What I Learned from R.C. Sproul

I recall meeting Dr. R.C. Sproul for the first time. He was sitting with his wife Vesta and a few other scholars at lunch. A friend took me there and introduced me to him. “How are you, young man?” he asked. I didn’t respond to his question. Instead, I uttered with all the courage I could muster: “Thank you for your ministry.” Indeed I was thankful and still am.

Dr. R.C. Sproul died on the 14th of December, 2017. He died the year we celebrated the 500th anniversary of the Reformation. I have read the many tributes to Dr. Sproul in these last several days. Some of them written by people I know well and who worked closely with Dr. Sproul. Death provides a time of reflection. Sproul’s death at the age of 78 brought back many memories of my days in Orlando. His influence continues in my library. I have dozens of his books and an unending selection of Tabletalks magazines and almost a gigabyte of his audio lectures. His legacy will live on for generations to come.

Introduction to R.C. Sproul

I lived in Pennsylvania in the late 90’s. I had arrived to study a year in America. The evenings were cold in December. The only distraction I had at night was an old radio that worked half the time. One particular night, I turned on the radio to the sound of Handel’s Messiah. The lecturer was clear and poetic in his delivery. I listened intently for 20 minutes or so to a lecture on Augustine. “You’ve been listening to Renewing Your Mind with Dr. R.C. Sproul,” the voice concluded after each episode. I retired to my room early every evening to hear his talks.

Though my curiosity increased with each year, my commitments to my synergistic theology prevailed. I could not embrace a theology that took away my liberty to have a voice in my spiritual condition. The following winter I returned to Pennsylvania for Christmas. It was there that I read Michael Horton’s “Putting Amazing Back into Grace.” His brilliant analysis of John’s gospel pierced me and persuaded me to put down my lingering hesitations of Reformed Theology.

Returning to college after changing my convictions gave me a tremendous sense of liberty to explore and read unhindered by traditions. I immediately read “The Holiness of God” and “Chosen by God” and experienced the closest thing to a revivalistic episode. I was awed as Isaiah was in chapter 6. I cried with the new knowledge of a God who was far more glorious and powerful than I ever believed.

In his 1986 book, Lifeviews, Sproul began with these striking words: “We are all missionaries.” Throughout the book, he labored in thorough style to make a case for the Christian involvement in society. R.C. was an old-fashioned Kuyperian. God created every atom, and therefore every atom had God’s creative tattoo on them. This insatiable hunger to proclaim the exhaustive nature of God’s sovereignty drove much of R.C.’s ministry, and I delighted more and more as I sat under his teaching from afar.

My Time in Orlando

After I had finished college, I had already drunk deeply of the Reformed well. I was attending a PCA church deeply influenced by Dr. Sinclair Fergunson. I had the luxury of sitting under some of the finest Reformed thinkers alive. The Church had an abundance of wealth, and they used that wealth to educate the congregation with the best scholars alive. It was there where I engaged Dr. Jerry Bridges on numerous occasions (may he rest in God’s peace) and many others who were kind enough to talk to a zealous student.

As my time to choose a seminary approached, my church encouraged me to attend a seminary in Philadelphia. But by then I had already consumed a significant portion of R.C. Sproul’s material. I intently listened to the lectures available and was convinced I wanted to study wherever he was. At the time, it happened to be in Fort Lauderdale. He was an adjunct professor, as I recall. I eagerly began the application process to Knox Theological Seminary, and the day I was to turn in my application two things happened: first, one of Knox’s most accomplished Old Testament professor, Dr. O. Palmer Robertson, decided to go to Africa to do mission’s work. I had heard him speak at my PCA church and very much wanted to sit under his teaching in South Florida. But the second, to my great sadness, was that Dr. R.C. Sproul had a stroke. The stroke signaled his shift from the academic world to something closer to home.

These two coinciding news led me to dismiss my interest in Knox and look elsewhere. I had already visited Westminster Seminary in Philadelphia and decided not to attend because they were committed to Van Tilianism. As I mentioned, my academic allegiance was for Sproul, and Sproul a Van Tilian was not. I had read Classical Apologetics twice by then and had virtually memorized the conversation at the end of the book between a classicist and a Van Tilian. I had used it many times against my Presuppositional friends.

The one seminary I had not considered– perhaps it remained hidden because it was so close– was Reformed Theological Seminary in Orlando. Once I learned Dr. Sproul had situated himself in the Orlando area, I thought I could have the best of both worlds: attend a world-class seminary and sit under R.C.’s preaching. And so I did initially. We visited St. Andrews in Sanford, and I began my journey at RTS. For a variety of reasons, we decided to find a closer church. Still, we made the drive to Sanford for every special occasion at St. Andrews and whenever Sinclair Ferguson was speaking. R.C. referred to him as the “Braveheart of our generation.” Still, everything we did had Sproul’s imprint. My wife taught at a classical school started by R.C. Sproul. We attended a PCA church started by R.C. Sproul. The churches we visited early on had pastors influenced by R.C. Sproul. So, I found myself among friends.

I needed a job to help with some of my seminary bills, so naturally, I applied for a position at Ligonier. It was my first official job interview after college. I put on my best tie and drove to the Ligonier headquarters. The interview was bizarre, and the questions were so hypothetical that even one of the interviewers began to laugh. I did the best I could, though left uncertain of my future. It was only four weeks later that I decided to call them back and ask about the job. They told me they were not hiring at the time. I was truly disappointed. My dream of working in the same building with my theological hero fell apart.

The Providence of God

As a good Calvinist, I knew that all things were in God’s hands. I got a job elsewhere and invested myself wholeheartedly into my academic studies at RTS. It was there I was confronted with the awkward charm of Professor John Frame. Frame’s genius did not come through his teaching style. I don’t think anyone would say Frame was/is a captivating communicator. It was, instead, his thorough approach to philosophy and apologetics that drove the point decidedly home. Frame slowly and surely undid my classical apologetics and brought me to the methods of Cornelius

My theology at the time was harmonizing, and the classical apologetics didn’t fit any longer. Little by little Frame was dismantling my sense of neutrality and replacing it with a robust Creator/creature distinction. In other words, the fallen man was incapable of reasoning to God apart from special revelation. The classical arguments brought probability and not certainty. While everyone knew of R.C. Sproul’s Calvinism, most engaged students also knew of R.C.’s severe discomfort with Presuppositional apologetics. It was the first time I began to drift a little from my hero. My exposure to other schools of thought began to take me in a slightly different direction.

But my love for R.C. continued despite my change of theological direction. Many of my classmates worked at Ligonier or were interning at St. Andrews which kept me aware of things happening there. The beauty of it all is that I was able to sit under John Frame and benefit from Sproul in the same town on a frequent basis. It was an endless buffet of theological joy.

Sproul’s Lasting Influence

For those outside the Reformed community, it’s hard to grasp how diverse the Reformed world is. Sproul could preserve friendships with a broad range of Reformed thinkers though he was a unique figure in the Reformed world. As an example, he held to a classic view of Postmillennial eschatology. His book A Taste of Heaven argued for a high liturgy based on Old Covenant patterns. He favored the use of incense in worship. But none of these things defined him. What drew people to R.C. was his commitment to the doctrines of grace, his dogmatic assertion that a man is justified by faith alone, his influential lectures and writings on the holiness of God, and his ability to take the profound and make it understandable for the laity.

As I ponder this giant’s influence in my own life, I conclude with three lessons gained. Perhaps I could gather 100 into a lengthy article, but these three jump at me:

First, R.C. modeled excellent Christian scholarship in writing and speech. It is a rare combination for one to write well and also communicate well. R.C. did both with great enthusiasm. I used to sit around hearing him interact with parishioners about the Pittsburgh Steelers–his cherished football team. I remember how much he knew about them and how he engaged the topic with such enthusiasm, that I, a non-football fan, felt the need to watch a Steelers’ game. He drew me into this topic in a way no one could.

Second, R.C. spoke the Gospel winsomely. It is not enough to talk about the truth. The people standing on a street corner waving Bibles shouting about God’s judgment are speaking the truth, but they are not speaking the truth in love. They are not drawing people to the message, but are perpetuating the idea that Christians are fundamentalists unwilling to engage and prone to shouting down the opposition.

Sproul communicated through the use of logic and rhetoric the beauty of God through a particular display of words and rhythms. He called people to repentance to a God who was beautiful and lovely. He drew people to difficult doctrines instead of driving them away. As a result, a multitude of saints today believe and cherish the glory of God in salvation because of Dr. Sproul’s winsome presentation.

Finally, Sproul taught me to love God. His God was my God. One lesson I hope to communicate to all those who inquire about Sproul in future years is that we are not speaking only of a theological titan, but a man who breathed and exhaled God’s glory each day of his life. He was our modern day Jonathan Edwards.

I remember listening in awe as R.C. worked through the Bible in his famous series From Dust to Glory. Now, Dr. Robert Charles Sproul will no longer taste the dust but will dwell in glory forever and ever amen.

The Abuse of Introspection

Some people dwell so much on their sinfulness that they find themselves constantly bombarding their status with doubt. Am I really a Christian? Am I worthy? These questions are not atypical of those who grow up in environments where internalized Christianity is emphasized. There is a healthy form of self-examination and Paul informs Pastors (II Corinthians 13:5) to encourage parishioners to examine themselves. At the same time, there is a difference between self-examination and introspection that is not often considered.

It is worth mentioning that God cares about our hearts. Out of it can flow the waters of destruction or waters of peace (Ps. 42). The repentant psalmist cries that God would create in him a clean heart, and that God would restore the joy of his salvation. Here again it is important to notice that this salvation has a face, a joyful one.

Martyn-Lloyd Jones wrote that a depressed Christian is not a good apologetic for Christianity. Whether there are physiological components at the root of this depression or not, it is still not a good presentation of the Christian faith. Depression is a form of despising God’s gifts and goodness. All of us are prone to it, and all of us must fight it. Schmemann once wrote that “Of all accusations against Christians, the most terrible one was uttered by Nietzsche when he said that Christians had no joy.” Joy is not forced, rather it is the natural outflow of a heart saturated with grace.

But aren’t we all sinners in need of repentance? While Simul Iustus et Peccator is true, we can over-stress the clarity of our sinfulness. I am aware of pastors who declare with great boldness the sinfulness of men without declaring with great boldness the sublime fact of the justification of men through the act of the ascended Messiah. This latter part seems to be missing in our day. The doctrine of total depravity has had the effect of depriving many Christians from a life of common joy lived in the presence of the One who has become our joy. While stressing man’s condition as sinful is important, an over-use of this hermeneutical tactic can lead men and women to live lives of doubt and insecurity.

While we invest time in our spiritual journeys to reflect and examine our lives, and to see if there are any wicked way in our thoughts and actions, we must invest an even greater time nourishing the spiritual magnitude of our status before God. When we live our lives in a constant environment of self-mortification we will mortify not only our flesh, but also our joy.

Martyn Lloyd-Jones writes in his insightful Spiritual Depression: Its Causes and Cures that “we cross the line from self-examination to introspection when, in a sense, we do nothing but examine ourselves, and when such self-examination becomes the main and chief end in our life (17).” When the chief end of man becomes self-examination there will always be a temptation to morbidity and spiritual depression. By constantly “putting our souls on a plate and dissecting it” we are showing the world a severe level of insecurity in our union with the reigning and risen Lord.

There are vast implications for all of this. Two examples will suffice to make this point:

First, introspective people–as I hinted earlier–rarely find time for others’ needs.  They have the immensity of their own depraved heart to occupy themselves. I have seen this played out throughout the years and, in fact, I speak from experience. When one delves deeply routinely into the many conspiracies of the heart he will sink in them. The heart is deceitful above all things, even deceiving us to think we only need to dwell in it.  The pastor may encourage his people to examine whether they are loving, desiring, and pursuing God as they should. But if this is the theme of his preaching and pastoral ministry he is building a congregation of morbid purists. This is why–I argue–there is legitimacy to those who call us to look to Jesus (Heb. 12:2). But generally when some call us to look to Jesus, they are in fact calling us to look back to our hearts to see whether we are looking to Jesus. Again, this is problematic and only exacerbating the problem. We do not look to Jesus as a lucky-charm, rather we look to Jesus because we reflect his glory and righteousness. Those who are united to Jesus become like Jesus. Those who worship Jesus become like Jesus. We look to Jesus, so that we move from self-examination to living out our faith with joy, peace, and abundant satisfaction (Ps. 16:11).

Ultimately, introspection is deadly. It is not surprising, then, to see those who walk about with defeatist spirits sporting their defeatist introspective theology.

Secondly, this motif plays out in the Eucharistic life of a church. At this point, I criticize even my own Reformed tradition. Though strongly committed to Reformed truth I am also aware that instead of producing joyful Christians, our tradition produces an army of introspective experts.

This is seen most clearly in the Reformed liturgy. Some churches justify their monthly or quarterly communion by stating that the congregation needs a week or more to examine themselves for the day (usually Sunday evening) of the Lord’s Supper. But what kind of vision are we perpetuating for our people? That the Lord’s Supper depends on our worthiness? That the Supper demands an environment of perfected introspection? That the Supper and somberness are part of the same context?

It is my contention that until we are able to undo the decisively introspective evangelical culture we are going to provide ammunition to non-Christians. We must recover a healthy self-examination, but also a redemptive display of over-abundant joy.

Working Out Your Own Salvation

All theology is public. Privatized theology is for pagans. Pagans like to do theology in the dark. Christians do theology in the light. We are all light theologians. The principle of working out your salvation with fear and trembling is the principle of living out your salvation before the face of God. God is always present. His Spirit is the One who guides us into truthful living in this world. He is always with us shaping, re-shaping His new creation. The Christian faith is a call to consistency; consistency in repentance; consistency in reconciliation; consistency in living the life of faith.

In this sense, there are two temptations we face: the temptation for self-justification and the temptation to isolation.

The temptation for self-justification is a common one in our day. Those who seek self-justification are always seeking for ways to earn God’s salvation. Now, please understand: these people have tasted of the goodness of God in baptism, Eucharist, communion, and worship. But the problem is that is never enough. They are always trying to justify themselves before God. They never think they have done enough. They believe they are in Christ, but they can never wrap themselves around their Christ-likeness. And so they despair. They doubt. And they find some security in doing one more thing for Jesus, but when it is over they begin to ask again: “Have I done enough?” They are always very introspective. They are always looking within and never finding assurance and pleasure in life. If you fall under that description I say “Rest!” Christ has already redeemed you. Work out your own salvation in the fear of God; and by fear Paul means in the presence of God; knowing that God is everywhere. And also tremble in His presence because He is everywhere. You cannot hide from the Creator of secret places.

The other danger is that of isolation. “I can work out my own salvation as long as I am alone.” “Don’t call me. Don’t counsel me. I am ok and I will continue to be ok if I am left alone.” Have you ever met someone like that? This is the exact opposite of how Paul wanted us to work out our own salvation. Paul envisioned a community working together; striving after holiness as one. Lone ranger Christianity was never an implication of the Gospel.

One of the great problems with the modern evangelical church is that we have created a culture of secrecy; a culture that wants to portray only the good, but never the bad or the ugly. The Church is here for confession. She is here for grief. Work out your own salvation with repentance and with godly sorrow. God is asking you to look to the future with confidence, because in whatever conceivable scenario you may imagine He is there.

But here you must also remember that God is not watching you because He longs to catch you. He is not watching you because He longs to punish you. No. This is not the God we worship. God watches over you, so He can guide you into green pastures. He is not a cosmic kill-joy, He is a cosmic joy-giver. He will work in you perfecting you to become the image-bearer you were called to be. And He does this for His pleasure.

Luther’s Interpretation of I Timothy 2:4

There is a great history of Reformed interpretation of I Timothy 2:4. In this one verse the question of human will, the extent of the atonement, and the desire of God for the salvation of man comes to play. Luther, Calvin, Erasmus, and others offer sufficient hints to conclude that there was little agreement on this text. Erasmus argued that salvation had been offered and that it was up to man to respond. Calvin–following Augustine–understood that God’s desire is to save men from all classes of people (kings and such). Luther translates verse four in this manner:

God our Savior who wills that all people should be helped, and come to the knowledge of truth.

Luther did not see this text as a reference to salvation (as in soteriology), but rather to the health, or well-being of an individual. He understood this text to refer to God’s divine provision for all his creatures, “whether man or beast, and whether believer or unbeliever.”*

*Universal Salvation (I Timothy 2:4) according to the Lutheran Reformers by Lowell C. Green

The Abuse of Introspection

Some people dwell so much on their sinfulness that they find themselves constantly bombarding their status with doubt. Am I really a Christian? Am I worthy? These questions are not atypical of those who grow up in environments where internalized Christianity is emphasized. There is a healthy form of self-examination and Paul informs Pastors (II Corinthians 13:5) to encourage parishioners to examine themselves. At the same time, there is a difference between self-examination and introspection that is not often considered.

It is worth mentioning that God cares about our hearts. Out of it can flow the waters of destruction or waters of peace (Ps. 42). The repentant psalmist cries that God would create in him a clean heart, and that God would restore the joy of his salvation. Here again it is important to notice that this salvation has a face, a joyful one.

Martyn-Lloyd Jones wrote that a depressed Christian is not a good apologetic for Christianity. Whether there are physiological components at the root of this depression or not, it is still not a good presentation of the Christian faith. Depression is a form of despising God’s gifts and goodness. All of us are prone to it, and all of us must fight it. Schmemann once wrote that “Of all accusations against Christians, the most terrible one was uttered by Nietzsche when he said that Christians had no joy.” Joy is not forced, rather it is the natural outflow of a heart saturated with grace.

But aren’t we all sinners in need of repentance? While Simul Iustus et Peccator is true, we can over-stress the clarity of our sinfulness. I am aware of pastors who declare with great boldness the sinfulness of men without declaring with great boldness the sublime fact of the justification of men through the act of the ascended Messiah. This latter part seems to be missing in our day. The doctrine of total depravity has had the effect of depriving many Christians from a life of common joy lived in the presence of the One who has become our joy. While stressing man’s condition as sinful is important, an over-use of this hermeneutical tactic can lead men and women to live lives of doubt and insecurity.

While we invest time in our spiritual journeys to reflect and examine our lives, and to see if there are any wicked way in our thoughts and actions, we must invest an even greater time nourishing the spiritual magnitude of our status before God. When we live our lives in a constant environment of self-mortification we will mortify not only our flesh, but also our joy.

Martyn Lloyd-Jones writes in his insightful Spiritual Depression: Its Causes and Cures that “we cross the line from self-examination to introspection when, in a sense, we do nothing but examine ourselves, and when such self-examination becomes the main and chief end in our life (17).” When the chief end of man becomes self-examination there will always be a temptation to morbidity and spiritual depression. By constantly “putting our souls on a plate and dissecting it” we are showing the world a severe level of insecurity in our union with the reigning and risen Lord.

There are vast implications for all of this. Two examples will suffice to make this point:

First, introspective people–as I hinted earlier–rarely find time for others’ needs.  They have the immensity of their own depraved heart to occupy themselves. I have seen this played out throughout the years and, in fact, I speak from experience. When one delves deeply routinely into the many conspiracies of the heart he will sink in them. The heart is deceitful above all things, even deceiving us to think we only need to dwell in it.  The pastor may encourage his people to examine whether they are loving, desiring, and pursuing God as they should. But if this is the theme of his preaching and pastoral ministry he is building a congregation of morbid purists. This is why–I argue–there is legitimacy to those who call us to look to Jesus (Heb. 12:2). But generally when some call us to look to Jesus, they are in fact calling us to look back to our hearts to see whether we are looking to Jesus. Again, this is problematic and only exacerbating the problem. We do not look to Jesus as a lucky-charm, rather we look to Jesus because we reflect his glory and righteousness. Those who are united to Jesus become like Jesus. Those who worship Jesus become like Jesus. We look to Jesus, so that we move from self-examination to living out our faith with joy, peace, and abundant satisfaction (Ps. 16:11).

Ultimately, introspection is deadly. It is not surprising, then, to see those who walk about with defeatist spirits sporting their defeatist introspective theology.

Secondly, this motif plays out in the Eucharistic life of a church. At this point, I criticize even my own Reformed tradition. Though strongly committed to Reformed truth I am also aware that instead of producing joyful Christians, our tradition produces an army of introspective experts.

This is seen most clearly in the Reformed liturgy. Some churches justify their monthly or quarterly communion by stating that the congregation needs a week or more to examine themselves for the day (usually Sunday evening) of the Lord’s Supper. But what kind of vision are we perpetuating for our people? That the Lord’s Supper depends on our worthiness? That the Supper demands an environment of perfected introspection? That the Supper and somberness are part of the same context?

It is my contention that until we are able to undo the decisively introspective evangelical culture we are going to provide ammunition to non-Christians. We must recover a healthy self-examination, but also a redemptive display of over-abundant joy.