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About the Book


"God's Battleaxe" by Turnel Nelson is a spiritual book that explores the concept of believers being used as instruments of God's power. The author emphasizes the importance of prayer, faith, and obedience in fulfilling one's purpose as a battleaxe for the Lord. Nelson encourages readers to tap into their spiritual potential to bring about transformation and victory in their lives and the world around them.

Charles Hodge

Charles Hodge Scholar, educator, churchman, and distinguished American Presbyterian systematic theologian of the nineteenth century, Charles Hodge was born in Philadelphia in 1797. Following his father’s untimely death a few years after he was born, Charles and his brother were raised by their godly widowed mother. In 1812 Hodge’s mother moved the family to Princeton in hope of matriculating her sons at Princeton College. Charles Hodge graduated from Princeton College in 1815. During the 1814-15 school year a revival broke out on the college campus: Charles was one of a number of students converted during this time of spiritual refreshing. At the encouragement of Archibald Alexander, he enrolled at Princeton Theological Seminary, graduating with the class of 1819. Ordained in 1821, his scholarly gifts led to an appointment by his denomination in 1822 to serve as the seminary’s third faculty member. As Professor of Oriental and Biblical Literature, Hodge’s primary responsibility was instruction in biblical languages, hermeneutics, biblical criticism, and study of Old Testament texts. During 1826-28, he travelled to Europe to study with the leading European biblical and theological scholars. Hodge focused his studies on theology and biblical interpretation, with additional concentration in Semitic and cognate languages. His studies in Europe made him one of the leading Hebraists teaching in an American theological institution in the early nineteenth century. In the coming decade, Hodge would be assisted by the linguistic talent and philological expertise of Joseph Addison Alexander. With Addison’s arrival, Hodge concentrated his labours on New Testament texts and studies, serving as Professor of Exegetical and Didactic Theology from 1840 to 1854. From 1854 until his death in 1878, he served as Professor of Exegetical, Didactic, and Polemic Theology. During his half-century tenure at Princeton, Charles Hodge held several chairs, but is probably best remembered for the reputation he established as Professor of Systematic Theology. A stout Calvinist with a deep love for the Reformed confessions, his literary labours often involved a polemical thrust, as he sought to defend and expound the Reformed theology of the Protestant Reformation, and the teachings of the Westminster Confession and the Larger and Shorter Catechisms, as received and adopted by the Presbyterian Church in the United States of America. A prolific author, Hodge served for many years as editor of the seminary journal, Biblical Repertory and Princeton Review. Under his editorship, it became the leading theological journal of the nineteenth century: Hodge’s personal contributions included articles on biblical studies, spirituality, church history and historical theology, ecclesiological issues, philosophy, politics, slavery, abolition and the Civil War. An active churchman, he was at the forefront of ecclesiastical debates and discussion. In addition to articles and essays, Hodge published commentaries on Romans, 1 and 2 Corinthians, and Ephesians. A major historical work in defence of old-school Presbyterian doctrine and practice, The Constitutional History of the Presbyterian Church in the United States of America, appeared in 1840. His popular work on piety, The Way of Life, was published in 1841. His three-volume magnum opus, Systematic Theology, was published in 1872-73, and confirmed him as the outstanding Calvinistic systematic theologian of the nineteenth century. Additional publications on the relationship between Christianity and science, and a collection of essays delivered at the Sabbath Afternoon Conferences (published by the Trust as Princeton Sermons), served to further confirm the breadth of his academic competency and the depth of his Christian piety. [James M. Garretson in Princeton and the Work of the Christian Ministry, Volume 2 (Banner of Truth, 2012)]

The Awl

I saw a good Samaritan Slow down and stop. “This is that kind of road; and none Of my sweet business here.” Atop The hill just to the east he saw The restful spires Of Jericho. “There is no law,” He thought, “no statute that requires My bother, let alone the chance Of injury.” But conscience rose and put a glance Of his own son for him to see Before his father-eyes. He crossed The lonely road, And whispered to himself, “The cost Of this assault is not his load Alone. Perhaps his father waits In Jericho.” He knelt. “Such are the fates Samaritans endure.” Then, “No! This is a Jew!” And worse, much worse: The man was dead. “Now what?” he thought. “It is a curse To die and rot without a bed Beneath the ground. And he is young. His father will Be searching soon, perhaps.” He clung To one small metal awl until, In his dead hand, it pierced his skin, As if to say To highway thieves: “Not this, not in My life will this be snatched away.” The good Samaritan put him Upon his beast, And set his face to do the grim, Bleak work of bearing the deceased Up to Jerusalem to find A leather row Where some young tanner had been signed To take a load to Jericho. He stopped at the first shop, “Can you Say if a man Was sent with leather goods down through The road to Jericho?” “I can. But hardly yet a man! In age, Or worth, I think. For all I know, his grief and rage Drove him to steal the lot, and drink His sorry way to Gerasa. His father’s sick With fear. There was a bruhaha The night he left. He tried to stick A man because his mother’s name Was smeared. He slashed Him with a tanner’s awl. He came By here to get his load, and lashed It to his mule and disappeared. His mother died Last year. The old man with the beard, Down at the corner, right hand side, That’s his dad.” “Thank you.” Hesitant, And burdened down With death, he waited at the front, Until the old man, with a frown, Said, “What you got for sale there, sir?” “It’s not for sale, Or trade, or deals. But if it were, You’d pay me anything. This veil Lies on the treasure of your life: Your son. And in His hand, unstolen in the strife. There is an awl thrust through his skin.” The old man lifted up the cloak, And put it back. “I found him on the road.” “Your folk Hate Jews, my friend. And there’s no lack Of corpses on that road. What do You want from me For this?” “I want to know from you About the awl. And I would be Obliged if you would tell me what It means.” “All right. A year ago, tonight, we shut His mother’s eyes. And every light Went out for him. But just before She died, she called Him. It was early, and a score Of birds were singing. So enthralled, She seemed, then said to him, ‘My child, With singing birds, I give you now my awl.’” He smiled, “She always had a way with words.” John Piper

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