Back to chapter headings previous chapter next chapter
Print This Post
Before commencing the serious study of theology I had done enough theological reading to be aware of the debate raised by the historical critical method. I had already realised the tension which existed between the traditional view of the authority of the Bible and the quest of modern criticism to regard it as a collection of human writings. I came to the study of theology with a firm conviction that the Bible was the revelation of God, because God had spoken to me through that word. This view of the Bible sprang out of my own Christian experience. Any lesser view of the biblical text seemed to me incapable of explaining the working of God in the history of the Christian church. I realised that my own convictions were supported by the fact that this had undoubtedly been the view of historic Christianity from the earliest days until the end of the eighteenth century. Yet I came to the study of theology with a enquiring mind, which would nevertheless expect some substantial evidence if the firmly rooted foundations of Christian orthodoxy were to be challenged. I was not disposed to accept statements of new opinions without carefully examining them. The concept of the consensus of scholarly opinions had little impact on me.
It is probable that my own enforced delay in commencing theological studies was contributory to my more cautious approach, since I had had ample time to consider the basic issues and brought with me to such studies a considerable period of Christian reflection. I had been fortunate in having some companions of a theological turn of mind with whom to thrash out many of the knotty problems. I had some advantage over my fellow theological students. The more I read the works of critical orthodoxy the more disposed I was to ferret out the basis of what was being proposed. From the beginning I was acutely aware of the need to examine presuppositions, always aware that in seeking those of others I must recognise the need for examining my own.
At that time there was little literature which approach the whole historical critical method in an objective fashion. I soon realised there was a sharp polarisation between critical scholars and those who disagreed with them. The latter who were genuinely trying to maintain the authority and inspiration of Scripture were too often so polemical in their approach and so dogmatic in their assertions that I not only found their work of little help, but felt that their approach was unsatisfactory. I determined to seek a different approach. I set out to gain an accurate understanding of critical opinions so as to examine the motives which were prompting them. It seemed important to me to seek out the presuppositions which lay behind the proliferation of theses and hypotheses which went under the name of critical scholarship. This was to my mind not a polemical task, but an academic one. With this purpose in mind I soon found myself faced with a considerable problem. I realised that critical orthodoxy was not a uniform structure, but a tangled mass of opinions. Moreover, too often one scholar would quote another scholar without repeating or examining the evidence. I became disturbed by frequent statements made about the assured results of criticism when I discovered the assured results of one period were being challenged by another. Some knowledge of the confident pronouncements of nineteenth century liberal scholarship which have since been discarded is a salutary warning against taking too confidently what has been declared as an assured result.
I began to formulate a definite policy with regard to critical studies in the New Testament where my main interests lie. I firmly rejected the polemical approach, not only because I regarded this as unsatisfactory, but also because it was alien to my temperament. I have never wished to engage in personal attacks. I strongly disliked the use of labels and resolved to avoid such adjectives as liberal or conservative or fundamentalist. My aim was to concentrate on what different scholars said and to find out why they said it. This meant the exclusion of any arguments based on dogmatic considerations. It seemed to me that such arguments were invalid in the debate with scholars devoted to the historical-critical method. My view was that if the biblical text was the authoritative word of God, it would establish its own truth. My quest was therefore for the truth. It was for this reason that the Guthrie motto, Sto pro vertitate (I stand for truth), seemed so relevant to me. It sums up my whole academic policy.
During my early lecturing on New Testament studies, and especially on New Testament Introduction, I soon became aware of the lack of suitable literature for text book purposes which presented the case for and against the critical opinions in an objective manner. I began to think of the need to produce such literature which would enter into some dialogue with current scholarly opinions and yet at the same time maintain the authority of the biblical text. It seemed to me the most imperative task was to set out dispassionately the wide variety of views which were in vogue and to attempt to enter into some dialogue with them. I was aware then, and still am, that it is difficult to present fairly the views of those with I disagreed, but I could see no reason why this could not be done. In this policy I knew that I would part company with some whose dedication to maintaining biblical authority had led them to reject any dialogue with those who clearly started from a different point of view. Many regarded the kind of aim that I had in mind as a waste of time. Indeed, time spent in dialogue with those of different persuasions was regarded b y many as of considerably less importance than preaching the gospel. Whatever sympathy I might have felt for this point of view was overshadowed by the importance of understanding the total theological climate in which the modern Christian church is obliged to operate. I felt some responsibility to give some guidance to those who found themselves more than a little perplexed by their studies of theology.
The urge to write did not arise out of my theological studies. At a much earlier age, when I was still a teenager, I developed an urge to express my thoughts. Words fascinated me and I used to rummage around the books in the public library in Ipswich to find books on written expression. I learned the importance of a flowing style and took some pains to develop such a style. As I played with words I became somewhat obsessed by the need for rhythm and would readily exchange synonyms which aided the flow for those which did not. I tried my hand at poetry with some satisfaction to myself although none of these saw the light of day, except that one poem was published in the magazine in the office where I worked. It was about the changes witnessed in the mansion which was now used as offices compared with its experience as a stately home. One of the executive engineers, who read a great deal of poetry, went out of his way to express appreciation of my poem. But that was the extent of my efforts. I also ventured to apply my experiments with style to a manuscript about the devil. I cannot remember now why I chose such a subject, not can I recall what I wrote. I decided to submit it to a publisher, although I had no expectation that it would be of value as a book. I had not even kept a copy of it, and I learned later that the publisher’s offices had been bombed and I presumed my script had been consigned to destruction. I am sure it was providential for my knowledge of the subject treated was quite minimal. However it does illustrate that the urge to write had gripped me early and had without doubt prepared me for the time when more serious writing would command my attention. I can see now the value of those exercises with words and of the attention paid to style. Theological writers perhaps spend too little time developing a readable style before launching their products. It may seem unimportant to some, but I am still concerned about the rhythmic qualities of the words I write. Indeed, I am concerned about the way the words sound as well as about what they mean.
My first occasion for putting pen to paper in a serious way was the invitation to deliver the Tyndale New Testament Lecture in 1947 which required the production of a written manuscript. I chose to lecture on The Pastoral Epistles and the Mind of Paul, because at the time I was doing some research on the Pastoral Epistles. The lecture was delivered at Tyndale House in Cambridge and I well remember the occasion. It was the first time I had given a lecture outside the London Bible College and I had some difficulty in keeping myself in a relaxed state of mind. I think my manner of delivery as a consequence must have seemed somewhat aggressive for my friend John Wenham commented that I had seemed too antagonistic to P. N. Harrison, whose views I was analysing. Since I had determined not to be polemical, I went through my script most carefully to eliminate any such suggestion. I discovered I needed to alter very little. I had clearly given an oral impression which was not reflected in the manuscript. Nevertheless I greatly valued the friendly advice for it certainly alerted me to the danger. The manuscript was subsequently published by the Inter-Varsity Press as a Tyndale monograph under the same title as the lecture.
It was because of my known interest in the Pastorals that I was invited to contribute a commentary on these epistles in the new series to be called Tyndale New Testament Commentaries. The venture was so new that no volume had yet been published and no pattern yet existed to follow. The editor was Professor Tasker who was working on a commentary on James, while Leon Morris was preparing one on Thessalonians. My own work was well on the way before I had access to proof copies of these first two commentaries. The purpose of the commentaries was to provide a fairly concise but scholarly interpretation of the text. The series was not, however, intended for the academic world. The aims of the series appealed to me. In setting out to write this commentary, I was faced with the need to come to grips with the issues raised by these epistles, yet at the same time to make a positive contribution to their understanding. I had become convinced that the evidence did not warrant dispensing with Pauline authorship in spite of the strong climate of critical opinion against this view. I felt it was reasonable to maintain not only the epistles’ own claims but the traditional view. Although there have been many subsequent commentaries and other works on the Pastorals, many of which deny the Pauline authorship, I have found no convincing reason for departing from the position adopted in my commentary.
It was the writing of that commentary on the Pastoral Epistles that whetted my appetite for further theological writing. I decided to turn my attention to the problems arising from the other Pauline epistles. I had sensed the need for a survey of critical opinions about these epistles. My studies grew into manuscript and I decided to consult Ronald Inchley, the publications secretary at the Inter-Varsity Press, which had published my previous literary efforts. Ronald was a near neighbour of mine and a fellow member of the nearby Baptist Church. As anyone will know who deals with publishers there is always a considerable delay in the assessing of manuscripts, but when at last it came it was through a personal word and not through a written communication. One sunny summer’s afternoon in Cambridge, where I was attending a New Testament study conference, Ronald Inchley invited me to walk with him along the backs by the river Cam. In this idyllic setting Ronald chatted to me about the manuscript, assuring me that the Tyndale Press would publish it, but pressing me to produce two more books in a similar style to cover the remaining New Testament books. This explains why my New Testament Introduction was originally published in three parts. While I was delighted that the value of my manuscript had been recognised, I was somewhat overwhelmed with the task of producing two more books. Perhaps had I started off with the intention of writing a full introduction I might not have written in such detail. But with one section already completed I could not then change the pattern. I had already taken two years on the first volume and the remaining two were to occupy a further two and a half years. The three books were later to be combined into one by 1970.
I often look back to that occasion along the backs at Cambridge as one of the most significant of my academic life, although at the time I did not realise just how significant. I had not anticipated the wide use to which my Introduction would be put. I have in fact never ceased to wonder at the turn of events which combined together to produce it. It was the result of very considerable labour. I often regretted that I had committed myself to such a daunting task. I had no alternative but to regard that as a priority, which led to the declining of many other interesting projects. I was a firm believer in the principle that every one must develop and use the particular gifts that God has given and I could not deny where my gifts lay. When I tackled the second book my College authorities also recognised the importance of the project and gave me a sabbatical term, but all the rest of the work had to be fitted into my spare time. I developed a technique for seizing every opportunity to use all my spare time to devote to it. I was of course lecturing on the subject of my books and my researches were contributing to the effectiveness of my lectures during this period.
I should have mentioned that before producing my first volume of introduction I had completed a doctoral thesis on early Christian pseudepigraphy and I had completed a commentary on Galatians for the New Century Bible although this was not actually published until some time later. I had been asked to write this by Professor Matthew Black and it was the first project to which I contributed in which the authors were drawn from different schools of thought.
It was of considerable relief to me when I finally completed my New Testament Introduction. It had been a mammoth undertaking, but it had nonetheless been very worthwhile. Since this work was published in three stages it was rather easier to judge what kind of impact it was having than if the whole had appeared as one volume. It has certainly been an encouragement to me to discover the use that has been made of it among theological students, especially since the three volumes were put into one volume in 1970.
I was invited to contribute to another series to be written by a fairly heterogeneous groups of writers. The series was to be called Bible Guides and my allotted section was Epistles from Prison, which was to set out the purpose and message of Ephesians, Colossians. Philemon and Philippians. The format chosen for this series tended to be rather restricted and this may account for the fact that the series fairly quickly went out of production.
Subsequently to the completion of my Introduction, I concentrated for a while on less demanding writing. I contributed a number of articles to the Zondervan Pictorial Encyclopaedia, one of which was a very long article on Jesus. The publishers decided to publish this as a separate book even before the publication of the Encyclopaedia. They decided to call it A Shorter Life of Christ. The writing of these articles on a more popular level led me to produce two books that were published by the same publisher. These were Jesus the Messiah and The Apostles, in which I tried my hand at a non-technical, devotional style. It is all too easy for scholars who constantly use technical language to forget that the layman is unfamiliar with the terms he is using. To be obliged to write in non-technical language is a valuable if demanding exercise. It forces an author to examine his terms more closely. I am not against the use of technical language for at times it is the most economical way to give expression to ideas. But some writers get so bogged down with jargon that they find it impossible to communicate without it. The problem for academics is that is they easily become immune to their own jargon. I make no claim to be exempt from this disease, but the more I think about it the more concerned I am to examine my language in order as far as possible to eliminate the jargon. I have known some whose use of jargon is a morale booster for it gives a feeling of superiority if others cannot understand one’s language. In some circles simple language is regarded as unacademic. But this must be avoided at all costs. However demanding it may be, the effort to communicate without jargon must be made. I am certain that truth has never been furthered by a mass of verbiage. Indeed more misunderstandings have resulted from sloppy and vague terminology than from any other cause.
I have been challenged at times when my own children have enquired why I use such difficult words and I have realised at once that my aim at simplicity of expression has not been achieved. It has caused be to look closely at the type of words I use, especially when writing in a more popular style. I have tried to achieve two objects with varying degrees of success. One is to be concise. Wordiness is the bane of much theological writing and it seemed to me that it was worthwhile to try to cultivate a style that was an economical as possible in the number of words used. The other aim was to be lucid, an aim difficult to attain. I formed the habit of asking myself what any uninformed reader would make of my words, and I found this was salutary in ejecting many expressions which would confuse rather than enlighten.
I mentioned above my contribution to an American Encyclopaedia, but even before that I was involved both as contributor and editor in the New Bible Commentary Revised and in the New Bible Dictionary. In both cases the production of articles was more enjoyable than the editing process. I appreciate the need for editors, but I have never derived much excitement from the task. The job needs a liberal amount of forbearance, especially where there is need to impose some kind of uniformity on a wide variety of completely individualistic authors. I think the born editor must be a rare breed.
I had been wondering what my next literary venture should be and had vaguely thought about turning my attention to New Testament Theology. At the same time I had a communication from the Inter-Varisty press about some matter and Ronald Inchley had added as an addendum the request that I might share with him my future writing plans. I mentioned my vague thought about a New Testament Theology and the publisher’s response was sufficiently positive to commission me to write such a book. I spent a considerable time planning the format. I had to decide quite specifically what my aim was to be. I decided against writing a book simply for the academic market. I wanted to produce something which would be of help to a wider circle of readers. Moreover I did not want to write the same kind of book as my New Testament Introduction in which I was mainly interacting with other people’s opinions. I had a more positive aim and that was to distil the essence of New Testament teaching in a form which would be of practical help to thinking laymen as well as theological students and pastors. I knew, of course, that I could not ignore the modern debates and the variety of critical opinions on New Testament themes, but I preferred to put references to these in the footnotes rather than in the text. Such a method has some disadvantages especially for those whose chief interest lay in those modern debates. But I was more concerned about the greater number of readers who would be more interested in the exegesis of the text. I am sure that many evangelical scholars setting out to write a New Testament Theology would have chosen a different path. But since there is no universally accepted standard for what a New Testament Theology should be, in the long run it must be a matter of individual preference. In some circles the possibility of writing such a book is denied because of the firm conviction that there is no basic unity within the New Testament. This has led many to prefer an analytical approach in which the aim is simply descriptive of the various strands within the New Testament as a whole, thus eliminating the need to weave them into a whole.
The only alternative to the analytical approach, in which Synoptic Theology (or the theology of the individual evangelists), Johannine, Pauline, Petrine Theology is dealt with separately, is to approach the subject thematically. I was not unmindful of the value of the analytical approach. the idea of studying Paul’s theology within the whole context of his letters makes some sense, but it is doubtful whether a full appreciation of Paul’s thought can be gained without comparison with the thought of the rest of the New Testament. I wondered whether a middle position might not be achieved by setting out the different treatments of the same themes side by side. Although I recognised that this procedure might lose something by being necessarily more selective than the alternative method, I felt there would be gains which would counter balance the losses. One of the major criticism against the thematic approach is that the theologian must choose his themes and that this becomes a largely subjective choice. But the procedure is not quite so arbitrary as this suggests, for there are major questions which Christians have been asking throughout the history of the church and these must be the starting point. We want to know what the New Testament teaches about God and man, about Christ and the Spirit, about the Christian life and Christian destiny. These are ageless questions and cannot be written off as impositions of systematic theology. What apparent parallels there were between my themes and those of systematic theology were superficial. I was not intending to impose a structure, but to ask recurring questions of the texts. I was fully aware that those who begin with the conviction that there is no unity in the New Testament would not appreciate my method.
It is unfashionable in these days to maintain the unity of the New Testament. Radical criticism dismisses the idea as untenable. But this runs counter to the centuries-old assumption of the Christian church. It seems most reasonable to suppose that the early church did not consist of innumerable groups who each had their own theology independently of other groups. In view of the strength of apostolic tradition and the appeal to the teaching of the apostles, it is difficult to see how at an early stage diverse ideas could have gained currency with any validity. We are entitled to assume that some uniformity of doctrine existed before the production of the New Testament literature. It is hardly credible to suggest that no restraints were imposed on those who ex hypothesi are supposed to have created their own theological thought. Such a view takes insufficient account of the guidance of the Holy Spirit in early thought and literature. It is for this reason that I preferred a methodology which would strengthen the idea of New Testament unity rather than its diversity.
Having formulated a certain approach, the actual writing of a book on New Testament Theology proved to be quite formidable. I had previously decided never again to write a book of the size of my New Testament Introduction, but the more I sketched out what I wanted to include the more I began to realise that the size of the work would be comparable. It was in fact destined to take me six years to complete it. I decided that it would be valuable to have some comments on the work during the course of its production and I was grateful to two of my friends who graciously undertook this task. They were Professor Howard Marshall of Aberdeen University and Dr. Dick France of Tyndale House, Cambridge. As I completed each chapter in hand-written manuscript form, they independently entered into dialogue with me. There were many issues over which we had differences of opinion, but I greatly valued their comments. Sometimes they were challenging, at other times encouraging. During this period I learned in a new way the value of friendly criticism, and I shall always remain indebted to those concerned.
The technical problems in producing a large manuscript for publishers are not always recognised. In this case, the typing of the manuscript was done by one of my own students, whose general knowledge of the content of the manuscript enabled her to produce a first class typescript. But this was only the beginning of the problems. Another of my students ably assisted in checking the footnotes and prepared the author index. The large number of scripture references and the need for a comprehensive index to these posed a problem since the time allowed was really insufficient, but with the help of many people the task was finally achieved before the deadline.
When at last the final proof sheets are checked and handed back, there is always a time lapse in which the anticipation of the publication of the book is mixed with apprehensions about the reception of it. I have no idea how other authors react to reviews but I am always too sensitive about them. Sometimes I deliberately avoid reading them, even when I have been told they have been favourable. Nevertheless, it is sometimes a salutary experience to discover what others may think, although I wonder how representative reviewers are of the general reader. This must vary considerably, for all authors must at times experience the anomaly of a bad review coupled with widespread demand. Having reviewed a number of books in my time, I try consciously to put myself in the place of the reader for whom the book is intended, although it is much easier to give what amounts to a purely personal view. I am particularly critical of reviewers who proceed on the basis that the book is not the kind of book they would have written, or else criticise the writer for not meeting the needs of a certain type of reader for whom the book was never intended.
But enough of these general comments about reviewers! My more recent literary works are of a more varied kind. One was a commentary on the epistle to the Hebrews, which had been written for some years and the manuscript put on one side. It finally came to publication as a replacement volume in the Tyndale New Testament Commentary series. There was further delay in the publication of the manuscript while final decisions were made about the new format for that series. I suppose these publication hold-ups are unavoidable, but they cause considerable frustration for the author. I think I have had my fair share of them, but at least I am able to offer some consolation to others who are similarly affected. Sometimes the delay itself enhances the thrill when the long awaited finished product finally appears.
Another fairly popular book which I was asked to write was a general book on the Teaching of the New Testament. this was to form part of the Bible Study Commentaries published by the Scripture Union. I discovered it was not as easy as I had first thought to distil the most important features into a brief compass, but it was a valuable exercise in conciseness.
A totally different kind of project has been the inauguration of a series of guides to the New Testament in the form of outlines on the text. The idea was to give several samples of the way in which the text can be analysed under headings with brief comments to give some substance to them. A published friend of mine suggested I might produce a sample of outlines on a brief section of Philippians, an epistle on which I was then working. He liked the idea and suggested that Hodder and Stoughton would be interested in publishing a manuscript based on such a format. I worked on the epistles to Philippians, Ephesians and Colossians and the work was published under the title Exploring God’s Word. The main idea behind this book was to enable the reader to see at a glance the ideas of a passage, and several alternative outlines were offered. I hoped that this kind of presentation would be helpful in individual or group bible study. I had never worked on this kind of project before, but any idea which brought people face to face with the text of Scripture would be worthwhile. I am certain that one of the major weaknesses of the Christian church today if the ignorance of many Christians regarding the teaching of Scripture and I am particularly keen on any means that enables the serious Christian to come to terms with the Word. My next venture is a similar guise to John’s gospel.
I began my account of my literary adventures with a reference to the Tyndale New Testament Lecture and I must mention two other published lectures of much more recent vintage. The first is the Laing Lecture which is held at the London Bible College. It was inaugurated during the early period after the move to Northwood. It was called the Laing lecture in honour of Sir John Laing, who had been such a generous supporter of the College. The aim of the lectures is to present academic propositions in a relevant way and to reach a wider audience the lectures are generally published in Vox Evangelica, the College’s own theological journal, of which for some years I was myself the editor. There had been a succession of notable lecturers and I was particularly glad to be invited to give this lecture for two reasons. The second lecture had been given by my brother Malcolm, just two weeks before he died. He gave a fascinating survey of the impact of Western culture on Evangelical thought. Unfortunately the lecture was never published because he left no manuscript. It gave me some satisfaction to follow in his steps. My own subject was Biblical Authority and New Testament Scholarship and this appeared in the 1986 edition of Vox Evangelica.
Another series of lectures to which I have contributed is the Didsbury Lectures held at the British Isles College of the Nazarenes. In this case the lectures are four in number and these are published in the form of a book. I chose as my subject The Relevance of John’s Apocalypse. I have long been interested in the last book of the Bible and had for some years lectured on it. I was fully aware of the multifarious theories of interpretation which abounded. My aim in these lectures was to leave aside the many disputed areas of interpretation and to concentrate on the message of the book for our day. This illustrates a trend which is becoming stronger in my own mind to stress the positive rather than the negative. It seems to me that no interpretation of this book is valid which would have made no sense at all to the original readers, and that as far as I am concerned must be the starting point.
Reflecting of the literary pilgrimage through which I have come, I can discern so many strands that have been woven together to make me what I am. In the long run an author cannot completely hide himself behind his writings, but it is hoped that these explanations of the influences which have led me to write will be useful as a background to the writings themselves.
Back to chapter headings previous chapter next chapter
