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About the Book
"Invading Force" by Roberts Liardon follows the story of a daring military operation to rescue hostages from a terrorist group in the Middle East. Through twists and turns, the team must work together to overcome obstacles and complete their mission. The book is a thrilling tale of courage, sacrifice, and the power of teamwork in the face of danger.
A.W. Pink
Arthur Walkington Pink (1 April 1886 – 15 July 1952) was an English Bible teacher who sparked a renewed interest in the exposition of Calvinism or Reformed Theology. Little known in his own lifetime, Pink became "one of the most influential evangelical authors in the second half of the twentieth century."[1]
Biography Arthur Walkington Pink was born in Nottingham, England, to a corn merchant, a devout non-conformist of uncertain denomination, though probably a Congregationalist.[2] Otherwise, almost nothing is known of Pink's childhood or education except that he had some ability and training in music.[3] As a young man, Pink joined the Theosophical Society, an occult gnostic group in contemporary England, and he apparently rose to enough prominence within its ranks that Annie Besant, its head, offered to admit him to its leadership circle.[4] In 1908 he renounced Theosophy for evangelical Christianity.[5]
Desiring to become a minister but unwilling to attend a liberal theological college in England, Pink very briefly studied at Moody Bible Institute in Chicago in 1910 before taking the pastorate of the Congregational church in Silverton, Colorado. In 1912 Pink left Silverton, probably for California, and then took a joint pastorate of churches in rural Burkesville and Albany, Kentucky.[6] In 1916, he married Vera E. Russell (1893–1962), who had been reared in Bowling Green, Kentucky, and Pink's next pastorate was at Scottsville Baptist Church, Scottsville, Kentucky.[7] Then the newlyweds moved in 1917 to Spartanburg, South Carolina, where Pink became pastor of Northside Baptist Church.[8]
By this time Pink had become acquainted with prominent dispensationalist Fundamentalists, such as Harry Ironside and Arno C. Gaebelein, and his first two books, published in 1917 and 1918, were in agreement with that theological position.[9] Yet Pink's views were changing, and during these years he also wrote the first edition of The Sovereignty of God (1918), which argued that God did not love sinners who had not been predestined unto salvation, and that He had deliberately created "unto damnation" those who would not accept Christ.[10] Whether because of his Calvinistic views, his nearly incredible studiousness, his weakened health, or his lack of sociability, Pink left Spartanburg in 1919 believing that God would "have me give myself to writing."[11] But Pink then seems next to have taught the Bible—with some success—in California for a tent evangelist named Thompson while continuing his intense study of Puritan writings.
In January 1922, Pink published the first issue of Studies in the Scriptures, which by the end of the following year had about a thousand subscribers and which was to occupy most of his time for the remainder of his life and become the source for dozens of books, some arranged from Studies articles after his death.[12] In 1923 Pink suffered a nervous breakdown, and he and his wife lived with friends in Philadelphia until he regained his health. In 1925, the Pinks sailed to Sydney, Australia, where he served as both an evangelist and Bible teacher at the Ashfield Tabernacle. But his impolitic preaching of Calvinist doctrine resulted in a unanimous resolve of the Baptist Fraternal of New South Wales not to endorse him. From 1926 to 1928, Pink served as pastor of two groups of Strict and Particular Baptists.[13]
Returning to England, Pink was invited to preach at a pastorless church in Seaton, Devon; but though he was welcomed by some members, the overseers thought his installation as pastor would split the church.[14] In the spring of 1929, Pink and wife returned to her home state of Kentucky where he intended to become pastor of the Baptist church in Morton's Gap. Once again his hopes were unrealized. To a friend he wrote, "I am more firmly convinced today than I was 14 months ago that our place is on the 'outside of the camp.' That is the place of 'reproach,' of loneliness, and of testing."[15] In 1930 Pink was able to start a Bible class in Glendale, California, while also turning down opportunities to speak in some Fundamentalist churches.[16] The following year, the Pinks rented an unpainted wooden house in Union County, Pennsylvania, where a small group met; then in 1933 they moved to York, Pennsylvania.
Pink decided that if his ministry was to be totally one of writing, he could do that just as well in England. In September 1934 he and his wife moved to Cheltenham, Gloucestershire, near honorary agents of Studies in the Scriptures. Pink seems to have finally given way to despair. To a friend he wrote "that those of my friends who would dearly like to help me are powerless to do so; while those who could, will not. And in a very few years at most it will be too late. What I have gone through the last seven years is so reacting on my physical and mental constitution, that ere long I shall be incapacitated even if doors should be opened unto me. However, I can see nothing else than to attempt to seek grace to bow to the Lord's sovereign pleasure, and say, 'Not my will, but thine be done.'"[17]
In 1936, the Pinks moved to Hove, on the south coast near Brighton. After the death of his father in 1933, Pink received enough of the estate to allow him and his wife to live very simply without financial concerns; and between 1936 until his death in 1952, Pink devoted himself completely to Studies in the Scriptures. Vera believed her husband's almost unrelenting work schedule unhealthy, and she remarkably succeeded in having him take up stamp collecting as a hobby.[18] In 1940, Hove became a regular target of German air raids, and the Pinks moved to Stornoway, Isle of Lewis, Outer Hebrides, Scotland, where they remained for the rest of his life. The island was a bastion of Calvinism, but church services were held mostly in Scots Gaelic, and visitors were not especially welcomed in any case.[19] Pink governed his time in study and writing with "military precision." To a friend he wrote that he went out to shop and get exercise for an hour, six days a week, but that otherwise he never left his study except when working in a small garden. While in Hove, he even published a note in Studies advising subscribers that "it is not convenient for us to receive any visitors, and respectfully ask readers who may visit these parts to kindly refrain from calling upon us, but please note that we are always glad to hear from Christian friends."[20] Rather than attend church, on Sunday mornings, Pink spent time ministering to readers by letter.[21]
In 1951 Vera became aware that Pink was failing. He lost weight and was in pain but refused to take any medicine that might dull his mind and hinder him from completing his work. He died on 15 July 1952. His last words were "The Scriptures explain themselves." Pink left enough written material to allow publication of Studies until December 1953.[22] Vera Pink survived her husband by ten years and after his death made new friends and mingled more freely with others.[23]
Influence
It is alleged that Pink's personality made it difficult for him to have a successful pastoral ministry. He has been criticized for being too individualistic and of too critical a temperament, lacking the benefit of thorough theological discussions with other men of similar gifts. One young pastor, Rev. Robert Harbach who corresponded with Pink for years remembered a very different Pink, who possessed a "pastor's heart." Pink's correspondence with Harbach (until Pink's failing health ended their correspondence in 1949) was warm, heartfelt and fatherly. Early in their correspondence, Pink wrote "I want you to feel perfectly free to call on me for any help I may be able to render you. I am in touch with a number of young pastors, and I deem it part of my work, and a privilege, to offer what advice I can."[24]
Pink's acclaimed contemporary D. Martyn Lloyd-Jones received spiritual benefit from reading Pink and recommended him to others. To one young minister, he said, "Don't waste your time reading Barth and Brunner. You will get nothing from them to aid you with preaching. Read Pink."[25] But Lloyd-Jones also said, "If I had behaved as Pink did, I would have achieved nothing. Nothing at all... I had to be very patient and take a very long-term look at things. Otherwise I would have been dismissed and whole thing would have been finished."[26] Furthermore, without the assistance and companionship of his wife, who dedicated herself completely to him and his work, Pink would have (as he freely admitted) "been overwhelmed" and probably would have achieved little even in writing.[27]
Theologically Pink was rejected during his lifetime because of his opposition to Arminianism; but after his death, there was a major shift of evangelical opinion towards Calvinistic theology. By 1982, Baker Book House had published 22 of Pink's books and sold 350,000 total copies. Nevertheless, it was Pink's Sovereignty of God that did "more than any other in redirecting the thinking of a younger generation." After Banner of Truth Trust republished it in 1961—modifying it to remove Pink's alleged hyper-Calvinism—the book sold 177,000 copies by 2004.[28]
References
7. "NEW LIGHT ON THE EARLY MINISTRY OF A. W. PINK (PART 2)". The Arthur W. Pink Archive. Retrieved 27 June 2020.
13. Murray argues that Pink left the first of these two groups because he was not Calvinistic enough for them because he asserted belief in the "free offer of the gospel and in human responsibility to receive the gospel.", 77-123; R. P. Belcher, "Pink, Arthur Walkington," Timothy Larson, ed., Biographical Dictionary of Evangelicals (Downers Grove, IL: IVP, 2003), 529. Ronald Hanko argues that "Pink never taught that God loves everyone or desires to save everyone, or promises salvation to everyone in the gospel, as the Banner does." Ronald Hanko, "The Forgotten Pink," British Reformed Journal No. 17 (Jan-March 1997), 4.
23. Murray, 283. She was remembered by one of these friends as "an elegant and gracious lady with a radiant expression and a loving and lively interest in people."
28. Murray, 314–15. The Banner of Truth Trust edition has been criticized for omitting nearly half the original work, including three entire chapters. Hanko, "The Forgotten Pink."
Though Dead, He Still Speaks - How Satan Remembers C.S. Lewis
The scene is in hell at the annual dinner of the Tempters’ Training College for young devils. The principal, Dr. Snufftub, has just proposed a toast to the health of the guests. Grimgod, a very experienced devil, who is the guest of honor, rises to reply: Headmaster, favorite Decadents, Ghouls, Fiends, and Imps, to my Intolerable Tempters, Ghastly Graduates, and Gentledevils: Gladly do I assume my place in our great tradition to charge our recent graduates towards highest malevolence, mischief, and devilry. I could begin my remarks by dribbling on about how honored I am to have been invited — but you, my lowly esteemed guests, are not humans to be flattered, and I, not a man to feign humility. I tell you plainly: I both deserve and expected to address you this evening. If but for that incompetent Dr. Slubgob — whose faults and failings (and finish) you are all keenly aware — I would have said my piece centuries ago. You would search in vain to find one more suitable in all of Satandom to enflame you in such crucial times as ours. Now that I have your attention, let me direct it to the point of my address: As the tide begins to turn decisively in our favor, we must not let the enemy regain his footing. To initiate a final push, to rally the closing campaign, we must do what young devils tend to relax: We must sever the humans from voices of the past. Now is the time to dispel the great cloud of witnesses, silence those terrible men and women who, though they died, still speak — should they continue to make fools of us? In the name of all that is unholy, they will not! Some of you — and this to your disgrace — do not mind old books lying peacefully upon nightstands. Some of these (and check the registry to recall which ones) cast light upon our shadows, point out ancient traps, inform them of our designs, and thus threaten to rouse this otherwise slumbering generation — but there they lie, tolerated. Many of you are too young to have grown already so careless. As we feast in celebration, I for one agitate to hear their voices sound disgracefully, mockingly outside of our gates. Can you not hear them? For every scrap of the damned that lies upon your plate, for every bite that inspires your snorts and howls, awaken to the fact that negligence in this matter allows the dead to steal meat from our bellies and drink from our cups. Gnash your teeth to realize that they caused us — during this past shortage — to sup on the relatives of most in this room. Their shrieks of protest, still fresh in my mind, commission us all to exorcise these voices from the earth. Should our war efforts continue to be frustrated by ghosts? Appraise one such a phantom — whose birthday happens to fall on this very day — that Irksome Irishman whose very name has become a curse: C.S. Lewis. Stories of Aslan First recall, with trembling voice, that embarrassment, Soretongue, who lost the patient after so many decades in his grasp. A blunder, young Graduates, that few listening to my voice could hope to surpass. His influence took a staunch atheist, a reviler of the faith, and turned him into one of these haunting voices of which I now warn you. Consider the error in full. Consider what this Lewis became. For one thing, this man — unlike so many of their drab ministers and colorless academics whose work we most heartily support — made ghastly impressions upon even our most prized possessions: the children. Through that otherwise terribly useful faculty, the imagination, he corrupted boys and girls across the globe with stories containing the Enemy’s horrible Echo scribbled across their pages. In a make-believe world, with a make-believe lion, and all sorts of other bumbling characters, he captured more than their attention. Can you believe that after losing the man, this dimwitted Tempter actually laughed over Clive’s shoulder as he wrote? “Pure rubbish,” I believe he called it. He could not discern the Enemy’s propaganda smuggled into fictional stories featuring the children, princes, rats, dragons, magical kingdoms, white witches, curses, and fauns. “As threatening to our designs as an old, blind, toothless tiger,” Soretongue reported. But this seducer beckoned into Narnia to show them earth. He introduced Edmund, Lucy, Peter, Eustace, Reepicheep to introduce them to themselves. He told of Aslan — and excuse me for my exasperation — to bring them to that nasty Uncreated One of Judah. He discovered how to preach sermons to children, and Soretongue smiled at it. The Enemy plundered our keepsake through the back of a wardrobe. Wicked Leaks In another turn, that logic, which we knew those many years only as an ally, betrayed us in the end. With each passing essay, with each published book, with each responded letter, radio broadcast, and sermon, he toured them up the mountain to look above to the Enemy and then below upon the labyrinths we so carefully devised for their destruction. Soretongue grossly underestimated the danger of this topographer in our war efforts. Our twisted and turned paths, knotted by delicious deceits and half-truths, began to be spoiled by his mapping out our temptations and pits. Our smoke of relativism, atheism, materialism — and our other favorite isms — availed minimally against this crow who made his nest above the fog. In the last, you might have thought, after Soretongue was through with him, that this fattened pig turned wizard to have broken so many of our spells of worldliness. So often did he — with great exaggeration and deceit, to be sure — appeal to that other world beyond, that many of our enticements fell useless against the bewitched souls of his hearers. His many embellishments about the “weight of glory” and other such nonsense, gross as such slobber stands to us, moved countless humans to take seriously the Enemy’s lies about such things as eternal life. He, pirating the Enemy’s horrible Book, talked often and much of holidays at sea, the country beyond, about the scent, the sight, the longing for a land that they were “made for” — a home standing just over the hill, just around the bend. And something called Joy with a capital J. He fooled the vermin, with pretty colors and poetic potpourri, that the Enemy’s torture and death somehow ensured that his followers — who also take up their own crosses and endure their own sufferings after him — might be the better off in the end. May it never be! Should not the mere existence of our established kingdom below expose the slight of hand? If heaven was as the Enemy so shamelessly boasts it is, why should a host of us so violently leave? But Lewis, with his wand in hand doodling fictions, compelled the swine towards the true ruin we so narrowly escaped. They will find him out eventually. Yet, though they will be sorely and deliciously disappointed at the road’s end, we will still remain the hungrier for it. Silence the Skunks But, enough of the man. I do not mean to honor the vermin by speaking too much of him. The point is this: Do not let the message of the departed saints survive. Should we, of all beings, not know how to silence the dead? Cut out the tongues of the mischief-makers. Six feet below is too shallow — dig deeper. A toast, then. You have studied. You have hungered. You have tempted, watched, and waited for this day. Each of you has, with the indispensable help of your more fiendish advisor, damned one human soul. The dish prepared so perversely before you contains remnants of your spoil — the lion’s share going, of course, to your mentor. May it be the beginning of uninterrupted success — for you know what awaits any alternative. Raise your glasses. To a future brim-filled with courage, cruelty, and conviction. To the setting of sun and the fleeing of the light. To the return of the age of devils. To the silencing of the skunks — to one we mock, “Happy birthday!” Onward and downward! Article by Greg Morse