Gentle And Lowly (The Heart Of Christ For Sinners And Sufferers) Order Printed Copy

Author: Dane C. Ortlund
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About the Book

"Gentle and Lowly" by Dane C. Ortlund explores the heart of Jesus Christ for sinners and sufferers. Focusing on themes of mercy, compassion, and grace, the book highlights how Christ's love and understanding are available to all who seek Him. The author encourages readers to rest in the comforting presence of a Savior who is gentle and lowly in heart.

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.

No Holiness, No Heaven

No one will be in heaven who did not walk in good works on earth. In other words, and in the words of Hebrews 12:14, there is a “holiness without which no one will see the Lord.” Abbreviated, “no holiness, no heaven.” In directness, “Faith without works is dead” (James 2:26 NASB). In confession, “Faith, thus receiving and resting on Christ and his righteousness, is the alone instrument of justification: yet is it not alone in the person justified, but is ever accompanied with all other saving graces, and is no dead faith, but works by love” (Westminster Confession). In commandment: “Work out [literally, produce] your own salvation with fear and trembling” (Philippians 2:12). “No one will be in heaven who did not walk in good works on earth.” In illustration: “Every branch in me that does not bear fruit he takes away . . . and the branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned” (John 15:2, 6). In lyric, “He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake” (Psalm 23:3). In repetition: no one will be in heaven who did not walk in good works on earth. Two Familiar Heresies Now, to say this, I hasten to avoid a different heresy: no one will be in heaven based upon good works. “By grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast” (Ephesians 2:8–9). “A person is not justified by works of the law” (Galatians 2:16). Christ’s righteousness, not ours, justifies entirely. The man, woman, or child who believes in him who justifies the ungodly shall be counted righteous before God. His blood brings us near to God, his righteousness imputed to us is needed. In other words, him, him, him — not us — so that no man may boast. Although the Christian walks into the narrow path full of good works, God prepared them for him to walk in beforehand. So here we have it: no one will be in heaven who did not walk in faith-producing good works on earth — “the obedience of faith” (Romans 1:5; 16:26) or “faith working through love” (Galatians 5:6) — and no one in heaven will be there on the basis of his good works. One heresy says it doesn’t matter if you work, run, or fight at all; the other, that your working, running, and fighting earn your place before a holy God. James calls the first the faith of demons (James 2:19). Paul calls the second the faith of the bewitched (Galatians 3:1). One error sits comfortably among evangelicals; the other among Catholics. It is the dead faith closer to home that I wish to address. Once Saved, Always Saved Dead faith (which produces no works) is not necessarily a silent faith. It often rehearses (and abuses) golden mantras such as, “Once saved, always saved,” putting a jewel, as it were, up a pig’s snout. “Nothing shall separate his true children from the love of God; the Shepherd will lose none of his sheep.” Properly understood, “Once saved, always saved” would stand for the amazing truth that from the vantage point of the eternal mountain of God, his children, predestined to be saved before time began, will not fall away — he will bring them home. He carved their names in the book of life; his Son has atoned for their actual sins; he seals them with his very Spirit as a down payment — the Spirit that shall surely bring his work to completion at the day of Christ Jesus. Nothing shall separate his true children from the love of God; the Shepherd will lose none of his sheep. From this, however, some draw crooked lines. Instead of deducing with Paul, “God’s firm foundation stands, bearing this seal: ‘The Lord knows those who are his,’ and, ‘Let everyone who names the name of the Lord depart from iniquity’” (2 Timothy 2:19), some conclude that the perseverance of the saints is optional. They may imagine God putting souls on a conveyor belt to glory. “Once saved, always saved” — no matter how deeply compromised their lives may be. In so doing they pit the essential doctrine of justification against the blood, sweat, and toil of the essential doctrine of sanctification, judging the first to eclipse the second. We do not need holiness, it is thought, because once saved, always saved. And by “saved” we cannot help but conclude they include “saved from needing to obey.” Texts that speak conditionally of inheriting eternal life (conditions God empowers his true children to meet) bewilder dead faith. They cannot stomach texts about the need to continue stable and steadfast in the faith, to endure to the end, to stand firm through trials, to put the flesh to death by the Spirit, to work out one’s own salvation with fear and trembling, to make our calling and election sure through energetic striving (2 Peter 1:1–11). The shouts of their dead faith cry “Lord, Lord” while they disobey him with their lives. Theirs is a faith I knew too well. A faith soberly depicted by the character Talkative in Bunyan’s animated theology, The Pilgrim’s Progress. Along the Road with Talkative A man named Faithful, in Bunyan’s allegory, possessed a faith that worked, while Talkative possessed a faith that did not. They had a conversation along the way. Faithful: Are you going to the heavenly country? Talkative: I am going to that same place. Talkative believes himself headed to the Celestial City. And what’s more, he speaks very Christianly, possessing excellent Reformed doctrine: By this [profitable talk of the Scriptures] a man may learn the necessity of the new birth; the insufficiency of our works; the need of Christ’s righteousness, and so forth. Besides, by this a man may learn what it is to repent, to believe, to pray, to suffer, or the like; by this also a man may learn what are the great promises and consolations of the Gospel, to his own comfort. Further, by this a man may learn to refute false opinions; to vindicate the truth; and also to instruct the ignorant. Bunyan teaches that proper orthodoxy communicated well is not a sufficient sign in itself of living faith. Faithful, not knowing the report of Talkative, whispers to his companion, Christian, “What a brave companion have we got! Surely this man will make a very excellent pilgrim.” At this, Christian modestly smiles and answers plainly, This man with whom you are so taken will beguile with this tongue of his twenty of them that know him not. . . . He is best abroad; near home he is ugly enough. . . . Religion hath no place in his heart, or house, or conversation; all he hath lieth in his tongue, and his religion is to make a noise therewith. His Christianity lies only in his tongue. How does Christian know this? “I have been in his family and have observed him both at home and abroad.” The tree is known by its fruit. He is “a saint abroad, and a devil at home.” Like the Pharisees of Jesus’s day, he says much, but obeys little (Matthew 23:3). “The new covenant promises Christians with new hearts will hate their sin and feel it to be the shame it is.” It is easy for us to imagine that God has saved us because we know right doctrine. Talkative’s great religion of tongue proved untrue in his loves, his relationships, his life. He talks of truth he was never changed by. The grace he speaks of never trained him to say no to ungodliness and to live a godly life (Titus 2:11–14). Borrowing a phrase from C.S. Lewis, he speaks of new life like “a scholar’s parrot may talk Greek.” He repeats what he overhears without knowing the reality of it, as the parrot listening to a scholar may repeat words like charis and sōtēria. Christian observes what is true of many Talkatives today: “He talks of prayer, of repentance, of faith, and of the new birth; but he knows but only to talk of them.” What a fearful place to be. Questions for Self-Examination Are you like this Talkative? I was, and God woke me from my delusion. I pray he would for others like me. Talkative, in the end, does not venture from the City of Destruction. He labels Christian and Faithful judgmental and parts from them. His words traveled beyond his faith and obedience; in the end, he was lost. He never examined himself to make sure he was in the faith and truly born again. At times, we all ask plainly, Am I born again? Christian counsels Faithful concerning Talkative, “Ask him plainly (when he has approved of it, for that he will) whether this thing be set up in his heart, house, or conversation.” Some questions Faithful and Talkative discuss are still helpful to ask today. Do you hate your sin? Not merely talk about hating it, like a hypocritical pastor who denounces the secret sin he indulges. The new covenant promises Christians with new hearts will hate their sin and feel it to be shameful: “You shall remember your ways and all your deeds with which you have defiled yourselves, and you shall loathe yourselves for all the evils that you have committed” (Ezekiel 20:43). Blessed are those who mourn for their sin (Matthew 5:4); God will not despise the heart broken over its sin (Psalm 51:17). Do you love God? Paul said as plain as day, “If anyone has no love for the Lord, let him be accursed” (1 Corinthians 16:22). Do you love him? Do you desire to know him? Do you love him above father, mother, spouse, child? Can you confess that his steadfast love is better than life? Do you hate your remaining sin because it is against him, your soul’s Treasure? Do you obey what you know? Jesus says, “If you know these things, blessed are you if you do them” (John 13:17). “That servant who knew his master’s will but did not get ready or act according to his will, will receive a severe beating” (Luke 12:47). We can imagine we have advanced much in religion or the love of Christ because we know more and more texts on the subject. But these texts must be believed, obeyed, loved. They must take root in us. If we truly know and love him, we will keep his commandments (John 14:15; 1 John 2:3). What do others see? Bunyan writes, “A work of grace in the soul discovers itself either to him that hath it, or to standers by.” Other Christians’ judgments are not infallible, but they can help to reveal blind spots to us (and signs of grace) we do not see in ourselves. As the Faithfuls and Christians today keep along the narrow way with the Book in their hands and love in their hearts, they will do good in this world. They will because God is working in them to will and to work for his good pleasure, producing the fruit of the Spirit in them. They must do good, in fact, because they have a Book of promises commanding, warning, and wooing them onward to the Celestial City. No one in heaven will be there on the basis of his good works, and no one will be in heaven who did not walk in good works on earth. So, we press onward in holiness toward our heavenly home because Jesus has already made us his own. Article by Greg Morse