J.C. Ryle
​John Charles Ryle (May 10, 1816 - June 10, 1900) was an evangelical Anglican clergyman and first Bishop of Liverpool. He was renowned for his powerful preaching and extensive tracts.
Biography
Ryle was born on May 10th, 1816 at Park House, Macclesfield, the eldest son of John Ryle MP and Susannah Ryle. His family had made their money in the silk mills of the Industrial Revolution, and were prominent members of Cheshire society. Accordingly, Ryle was educated at Eton College and then Christ Church, Oxford, where he took a congratulatory First in Greats, and a Blue in cricket.
Conversion and ordination
Ryle's family were nominal Anglicans, and until his time as an undergraduate Ryle had a similar attitude to Christianity. However, as he was due to sit his final examinations, he became seriously ill with a chest infection, and was confined to his bed. During this time he began to pray and seriously read the Scriptures. However his conversion occurred when he attended an unknown church, and arriving late, he heard the reading Ephesians 2:8-9. The force of these words hit his heart, and from that point on he was assured of his salvation.
After leaving Oxford, he returned to Macclesfield to assist his father in business and with the assumption that he would inherit the estate. However in June 1841 Ryle Senior was bankrupted, and the family was left ruined, and forced to leave Macclesfield.
With his future now in tatters, Ryle was forced to look for a profession to sustain himself, and as a last resort, he offered himself for ministry in the Church of England. He was duly accepted and ordained in December 1841 by Bishop C.R. Summner of Winchester.
Parish ministry
Ryle's first charge was as curate of the hamlet of Exbury in Hampshire, an area of a rough but sparse agricultural population, and riddled with disease. After a difficult two years, he became unwell, and was forced to spend several months recuperating. In November 1843 he moved to become the rector of St Thomas', Winchester, where he made a reputation for himself as an energetic and thorough pastor. Over a period of six months the congregation grew to well over six hundred communicants, and the church was forced to consider alternative accommodation. However Ryle was offered the living of Helmingham, Suffolk, and it was to here that he moved in 1844, where he stayed until 1861. With a congregation of some two hundred, it was here that Ryle began to read widely amongst the Reformed theologians, and produce the writings that would make him famous. It was at Helmingham that he began his series of "Expository Thoughts on the Gospels", and started his tract-writing.
Though his time at Helmingham was extremely fruitful, Ryle quarreled with the squire John Tollemache, and by 1861 he felt the need to move on. His final parish incumbency was Stradbroke, also in Suffolk, and it was from here that Ryle became nationally famed for his firm preaching and staunch defense of evangelical principles, both from the study and the platform. He wrote several well-known books, mainly based on his tracts and sermons, and often addressing issues of contemporary relevance for the Church from a Biblical standpoint. Of these, perhaps the most enduring are "Holiness" and "Practical Religion", both still in print.
Episcopate
Ryle's uncompromising evangelicalism in the face of increasing liberal and Tractarian opposition gained him many admirers, and he was fast becoming one of the leading lights of the evangelical party. He was originally recommended for the post of Dean of Salisbury, but before he was appointed the out-going Conservative Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli offered him the position of Bishop of the newly-created Diocese of Liverpool.
Ryle moved to Liverpool in 1880, and would stay until 1900. Despite his previous ministry experience having been almost exclusively exercised within a rural context, his plain speech and distinctive principles made him a favorite amongst Liverpool's largely working-class population. He proved an active bishop, encouraging the building of more churches and missions to reach out to the growing urban communities, and generally seeking to develop the new diocese as best he could.
In common with many late Victorian bishops, Ryle was increasingly forced to deal with the tensions caused by the developing Anglo-Catholic wing of the Church of England. Of particular note is the so-called "Bell Cox Case" of 1885. Bell Cox was vicar of St. Margaret's, and a committed Ritualist. His Catholic practices soon came to the attention of several prominent evangelicals in the city, and one of them, James Hakes of the Liverpool Church Association, brought a private prosecution against Bell Cox under the Public Worship and Regulation Act of
Despite Ryle's entreaties, Bell Cox refused to moderate his behavior, and thus the case proceeded to the Chancery Court of York, where Bell Cox was found guilty of contempt of court, and imprisoned for seventeen days. Ryle's behavior in particular was criticized for his failure to exercise his legal episcopal veto over the prosecution, and his apparent willingness to allow one of his clergy to be imprisoned over matters of worship. However, an examination of letters written by Ryle from the time suggest that Ryle was by no means a supporter of such practice, yet felt it wrong to come between the law and the defendant, particularly in the case of a private prosecution. In his speech to the Liverpool Diocesan conference the same year he openly declared the imprisonment of clergy over such matters as "barbarous", hardly a note of support.
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Ryle's tenure as bishop in general is remarkable for his efforts to build churches and mission halls to reach the rapidly expanding urban areas of Liverpool. Though subsequent biographers have criticised this policy, owing to figures which suggest a general decline in church attendance,[[ Link title]] it perhaps says most about Ryle's heart as an evangelist; a desire for all to hear and respond to the Gospel.
Ryle served as Bishop until March 1900, where in his eighty-fourth year, a stroke and a general decline in health forced him to retire, despite his desire to die "in harness." He retired to Lowestoft, Suffolk, however passed away on 10th June 1900. He was interred in All Saint's, Childwall, next to his third wife, Henrietta.
Bio. Taken from Theopedia
There Is a Name
In a world of tolerance and pluralism, few truth claims taste as sour as this one: Jesus is the only way to God. Or as the apostle Peter so boldly says, There is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name given under heaven by which we must be saved. (Acts 4:12) Just one name for eight billion people? Just one Savior for almost seven thousand people groups? Just one heavenward path for men and women, young and old, urban and rural, Asian and American and African and European? Peter, apparently, felt unashamed of the claim. “Let it be known to all of you,” he began (Acts 4:10). But what Peter proclaimed, many of us whisper, especially among those who take offense. “No other name” may sound fine in small group, but our voices can crack at a neighbor’s kitchen table. Embarrassment, not boldness, might mark even the lovers of Jesus’s name. “Into this world of curse and sin, where half our house hangs over the cliff edge of judgment, God has given a name.” Perhaps, then, we need help feeling the wonder that there is any name at all. Into this world of curse and sin, where half our house hangs over the cliff edge of judgment, God has given a name. World with No Name By all just reckonings, we ought to live in a world with no name. We ought to walk east of Eden, with no promise of a coming son. We ought to toil under Pharaoh, with no outstretched arm to rescue. We ought to tremble before Goliath, with no David to sling his stones. We ought to hang our harps in Babylon, with no hope of a future song. On our own, of course, we struggle to consent to such dismal oughts. We feel, even if we do not speak, not that we ought to perish, but that God ought to save. We sense that heaven, not hell, is humanity’s default destination. We talk of a hundred paths up the mountain because we assume, deep down, that most (if not all) deserve to reach the top. Yet we feel, sense, and assume like this only when we feel, sense, and assume that our sin is smaller than God says. To those with slight views of sin, little could be more offensive than there being only one name. But for those who, like Job (Job 42:6), or Isaiah (Isaiah 6:5), or Peter (Luke 5:8), or John (Revelation 1:17), have found themselves thrust into the presence of the Holy One, little could be more wonderfully surprising. Why should God send a sunrise to pierce our chosen darkness? Why should the Father rise and race to meet his wayward son? Why should Christ become our Hosea to redeem us from the brothel? Why should heaven’s blood be shed to win back heaven’s haters? Why should Jesus give his name to rescue crucifiers? Only because the reckonings of heaven reach beyond mere justice. There Is a Name Now, hear again the words that so often offend or embarrass: There is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved. (Acts 4:12) The exclusivity of Jesus Christ does indeed sit at the center of Peter’s words, like a stone of stumbling or a rock of offense (Acts 4:11; Romans 9:33). Yet strewn around that stone are jewels so beautiful that Peter’s claim, so far from offending or embarrassing, ought to break the hearts of sinners and unloose the tongues of saints. NAME GIVEN There is . . . [a] name . . . given. When the Son of God was born in Bethlehem, he was born into a world without a saving name. No name among Greece’s wise philosophers could save. No name in Rome’s expansive pantheon could save. Israel, of course, had long taken refuge in the name of Yahweh (Exodus 34:6–7). Yet even Yahweh waited for the day when he would give his name in a new way — and through it, a salvation far beyond the Jews’ imagination (Jeremiah 23:5–6; Joel 2:32). Then on that lonely night, the God of heaven gave a name to lost and dying sinners. Unto us was born that day in the city of David a Savior, named Jesus Christ the Lord (Luke 2:11). Take heart, exiles of Eden. Have courage, slaves of Pharaoh. Lift up your heads, soldiers of Israel. Play your harps, prisoners of Babylon. Your God has come, and he has given you a name. UNDER HEAVEN There is . . . [a] name under heaven given among men. God could have given this name to the Caesars and Herods of the world. He could have handed it to the wise and powerful. Or most likely of all, he could have entrusted it to the Jews alone. Instead, he gave a name under (all) heaven, among (all) men. “Jesus’s name will meet the eastern sunrise. Jesus’s name will watch the western sunset.” Wherever men and women live under heaven, however far the image of God has wandered, there this name must go. It must run beyond Jerusalem; it must reach past Judea; it must fly outside Samaria to find the ends of the earth (Acts 1:8). As the psalmist sings, “From the rising of the sun to its setting, the name of the Lord is to be praised!” (Psalm 113:3). So it is and will be in Jesus. His name will meet the eastern sunrise. His name will watch the western sunset. And everywhere in between, all people “will be blessed in him, all nations call him blessed” (Psalm 72:17). FOR SALVATION There is . . . [a] name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved. God has given a name. This name is for everyone under heaven. And here is God’s purpose, God’s desire, in giving that universal name: my people must be saved (Acts 2:21). God saw fit to wrap salvation in the syllables of this name. “You shall call his name Jesus,” the angel told Mary, “for he will save his people from their sins” (Matthew 1:21). “God sees,” “God sympathizes,” “God strengthens” — any of these names would have been wonderful. But Jesus, “God saves” — or more literally, “Yahweh saves”? No wonder Mary marveled (Luke 1:46–55). God did not send this name into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through it (John 3:17). What a Glorious Name So then, in Jesus, we hear the only name that saves. We can, if we want, nurture offense or embarrassment about God’s giving only one name. Or we can thank God for that name, treasure that name, and join God himself in spreading that name wherever it is not sung. If we do, we join a mission that cannot fail. Hear God Almighty take up the longing of Psalm 113:3 and turn it into a prophetic promise, sealed twice over: From the rising of the sun to its setting my name will be great among the nations, and in every place incense will be offered to my name, and a pure offering. For my name will be great among the nations, says the Lord of hosts. (Malachi 1:11) His name will be great: in Zambia and New Zealand, in India and Iceland, in China and Colombia, and in the darkened streets of our own cities. And to that end, God has made us stewards of his sacred name. In Christ, we can shine the light that splits the darkness (Luke 1:78–79), lower the hand that lifts the fallen (Psalm 40:2), raise the snake that heals the bitten (John 3:14–15), and say the name that saves the sinner. There is no other name given among men by which we must be saved. And oh what a glorious name it is. Article by Scott Hubbard