Continuation of article on Jonathan Edwards and revival:
In the “Treatise on the Religious Affections” (1744), Edwards trained his critical powers almost exclusively on his own party. He was concerned that pure Christian spirituality was being drowned in counterfeits. “‘Tis by the mixture of counterfeit religion with true, not discerned and distinguished, that the devil has had his greatest advantage against the cause and kingdom of Christ.”
As in “Distinguishing Marks,” Edwards starts by listing a series of “insufficient signs” that neither discredit nor validate a revival movement: intense religious emotions, involuntary bodily effects, talkativeness, self-oriented forms of love, a slavish fear of God, intense religiosity, praise of God that is really focused on self, assurance of salvation (or lack of this), and even pleasing other godly persons.
If these are not adequate signs of spiritual renewal, then what is? Edwards answers that the heart (the inmost center of the personality) must be touched by the Holy Spirit. This healing touch generates affections (driving motives that inform and direct the mind and will) flowing out of love for God himself, not just gratitude for his gifts. These affections are responses to God's own beauty, not merely to his power or greatness. They do not bypass the mind, they illuminate and transform it. They make faith more certain, but they also create humility. They change our nature, producing a meek and gentle spirit and a tender sensitivity to sin. They do not foster self- centered emotionalism but rather a vigorous social conscience that cares for bodies as well as souls. They lead inevitably to the practice of Christian charity.
By the time the “Treatise on the Affections” was published in 1746, Edwards was discouraged over the revival. In 1742, he had warned against the Devil's strategy of sowing tares among the wheat in order to discredit the whole crop:
“We may observe that it has been a common device of the devil, to overset
a revival of religion; when he finds he can keep men quiet and secure no
longer, then he drives them to excesses and extravagances.... Though the
devil will do his diligence to stir up the open enemies of religion, yet
he knows...that, in a time of revival of religion, his main strength
shall be tried with the friends of it; and he will chiefly exert himself
in his attempts to mislead them. One truly zealous person...may do
more...to hinder the work, than a hundred great, and strong, and open
opposers.”
In 1747, Edwards assisted a project of Scottish Presbyterians, asking for quarterly concerts of prayer for spiritual awakening in “A Humble Attempt to Promote Explicit Agreement in United Prayer for the Advancement of Christ's Kingdom.” At this point, he felt that the errors of revival leaders had temporarily derailed the revival. Still, he was confident that united prayer for the kind of spiritual awakening he had described in his writings could prevail. He argues that when the church is at its worst and weakest, it may be closer to revival, as it is drawn to God in greater dependence:
“The church's extremity has often been God's opportunity for magnifying
his power, mercy and faithfulness, towards her. The interest of vital
piety has long been in general decaying, and error and wickedness
prevailing; it looks as though the disease were now come to a crisis....
When his church is in a low state, and oppressed by her enemies, and
cries to him, he will swiftly fly to her relief, as birds fly at the cry
of their young.”
IF EDWARDS WERE HERE TODAY
If Edwards could return to America today, how would he evaluate the spiritual situation?
First, he might be surprised by the degree of activism, organization, and promotion in evangelicalism, resulting from Charles Finney’s influence during the last century. Puritans had been reluctant to intrude upon the work of the Holy Spirit, avoiding evangelistic invitations and all efforts to engineer spiritual response, except through presentation of biblical truth. The Edwardsian strategy was to pray for God to change the weather in human hearts. Finney, on the other hand, counterbalanced this passive/dependent approach with a stress on active planting of the seed, using weeks of extended meetings, invitations, lay exhortations, and other tactical innovations.
Edwards never doubted that God worked through human efforts, but he valued spontaneous stirrings among the laity, the churches, and a variety of leaders. He would be impressed by the huge rallies of laymen now gathering to respond to Scripture, often with a minimum of promotional hype.
For Edwards, the primary human catalyst for revival was always dependent prayer. He would be delighted with movements like David Bryant’s “Concerts of Prayer,” which is partly based on his own writings. He would be especially happy that prayer movements are now focused on broad-scale outpouring of the Holy Spirit and not just on support for individual ministries and campaigns.
For Edwards, as for Calvin, conviction of sin was the usual result of an awakening encounter with God. He would be nonplused by the public confessions of baby busters in Christian schools. Sharing on this level was restricted to pastor’s studies and small groups during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, though it became almost a public sacrament in modern movements like the East Africa Revival. In any case, Edwards would conclude that young people do not show such extraordinary candor unless God is moving them. The normal result of college revivals -- for example, the Yale revival under Edwards's grandson Timothy Dwight -- is a decades-long refreshing of the church's leadership.
What about the Toronto Blessing and its impact through other Vineyard churches? Edwards, Wesley, and other revival leaders also encountered fainting or prostration as the Holy Spirit dealt with individuals. Edwards’s concern would be to verify that the experience involved real illumination and transformation of the heart, with lasting fruit in Christian faith and life, and not just transient bodily effects.
But he would be impressed by the Vineyard’s study of his own writings and their growing grasp of the full implications of revival for evangelism and social transformation. He would be delighted with their optimism of grace, which insists that the church must become more visibly the glorious bride of Christ before the end of history.
Some of the components of the Vineyard renewal would give him pause. It is true that during the frontier revivals converts were seized with contagious behavior, jerking involuntarily and barking like dogs. Peter Cartwright encouraged the phenomena as an aid to humility, but others felt that the revival was being disfigured by these elements. One historian comments:
“Those opposed to the excitement soon realized that the attitude of the
preacher had a great influence upon the character of the meeting. A
peremptory command from him upon the first appearance of undue excitement
sufficed in most cases to quiet those affected, and prevented contagion.
A Baptist minister who was preaching where one of the jerkers began his
motions made a pause, and in a loud and solemn tone said, ‘In the name of
the Lord I command all unclean spirits to leave this place.’ The jerker
immediately became still.”
Vineyard leaders are now trying to downplay the phenomena. But some have defended the animal imitations as adjuncts to humility, which could not be demonic because of the holy atmosphere of meetings. But Edwards and the other revival leaders knew that in awakenings they were always in a tug of war with the Devil. Puritans said, “When the sun shines on a swamp, mist rises.” Sometimes conversion effects exorcism, and the displaced agents may not go quietly. Unable to beat the revival, they may try to join it, like the girl at Philippi who gave the apostles free advertising but was promptly exorcised by Paul (Acts 16:16).
A revival movement that finds itself replicating compulsive laughter, spiritual drunkenness, pecking like chickens or roaring like lions as expected aspects of spiritual awakening may be playing into the Enemy's hands. It is in the Devil's interest to make Christians weird. He does not need possession to do this; he can manage by suggestion. The goal of his strategy is to create a church that is so institutionally strange that unbelievers will detour around it. The goal of revival is conformity to the image of Christ, not imitation of animals.
Movements of revival usually center on recovered biblical truth. If we ask what the Toronto renewal has that would explain God's blessing, it may lie in the fact that the leaders had been praying for an outpouring of the Holy Spirit on an Edwardsian scale. The “Third Wave” has retained the Pentecostal gifts but has recentered the charismatic movement on spiritual warfare and healing, decreasing the emphasis on tongues and accepting a broader range of gifts as signs of fullness of the Spirit. This may be a winning combination, to which God wants to draw attention.
In any case, Edwards would find many parts of modern evangelicalism much stranger than the Vineyard, full of theological weakness, cultural conformity, and the disfiguring effects of spiritual pride: barren and uncomfortable houses where there is little to nurture spiritual life. He would be pleased with the trend of prophetic criticism that pinpoints these needs, but he would not be discouraged. His own final approach to the Great Awakening was to subject it to the most rigorous critique, on the one hand, and to solicit extraordinary prayer for its advancement, on the other. These are strategies we need to follow today.
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Richard F. Lovelace is professor of church history at Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary in South Hamilton, Massachusetts, and the author of “Dynamics of Spiritual Life” (IVP).
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