Elwell - Handbook of Evangelical Theologians

Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Books, 1993. – 465 p.

ISBN 0-8010-3212-1

 

The last thirty years have seen a recrudescence of evangelicalism in America. Accordingly, there has been increased interest in what evangelicalism actually is, what its roots are, who was influential in its earlier days, where it is going, and myriad similar topics. Fortunately, on most of these subjects competent individuals are expending a good bit of energy, and many of the gaps are being filled in. Yet it remains difficult, if not impossible, to find some of the basic information regarding the theologians who have played a role in informing and sustaining evangelicalism in the twentieth century, especially the earlier part. We have in view here biographical facts, theological development and stance, major writings, and evaluation of where a particular theologian might fit into the overall scheme of things. It was to provide this information that the Handbook of Evangelical Theologians has been put together.

 

Two major questions presented themselves at the outset—What is evangelicalism anyway? and What criteria should be used to determine who among the many possibilities should be included in this volume? Neither one of these questions was particularly easy to handle. It turned out that no single, simple answer could be given to the first question. Everyone seems to know, in some intuitive kind of way, what evangelicalism means; but when it comes to writing that meaning down on paper, no two definitions turn out exactly alike. They run the spectrum from the very broad understanding of evangelicalism as synonymous with Protestantism to some very specific formulations that entail acceptance of a lengthy list of precise theological statements; various middle positions define evangelicalism as commitment to the tenets of historical orthodoxy. David Bebbington, in a very fine volume entitled Evangelicalism in Modern Britain, speaks of the “enormous variation in Evangelicalism over time” in his country. The same holds true for America as well. For along the way considerations in the areas of sociology, economics, philosophy, and even the matter of personal style have made a single comprehensive definition of evangelicalism even more elusive.

 

For all of the complicating factors, however, there remained a feeling that evangelicalism could still be roughly defined and understood. The uncertainties obviously did not stop books from being written on the subject! Having to make a decision, we opted for a middle-of-the-road definition. Too broad a definition would have meant that almost anyone could be included: Karl Barth, after all, produced a volume entitled Evangelical Theology: An Introduction. Too narrow a definition would have meant that B. B. Warfield and perhaps even Gordon H. Clark (if Cornelius Van Til had his way) would have been left out. So rather than enter into a complex and, for our purposes, unnecessary discussion as to the exact nature of evangelicalism, we opted for a definition somewhat more on the broad rather than on the narrow side. That we have included theologians who by some definitions are not solidly evangelical goes without saying, but our purpose has been to allow for the inclusion of theologians who have had a marked influence on the evangelical movement and considered themselves evangelical, even if not everyone agreed. In the end, the reader will have to decide.

 

Once the first question was for all practical purposes settled, we established some criteria for deciding which theologians to include in our list:

 

1. Twentieth-century figures (i.e., for a theologian to be included, at least part of his career must have taken place in the present century)

 

2. Representatives from both halves of the century (i.e., pre- and post-1950)

 

3. Identification with the evangelical movement

 

4. Significant influence on or in the evangelical movement

 

5. Representatives of various denominational points of view; these include

 

(a) Arminian/Wesleyan, (b) Calvinist/Reformed, (c) charismatic, (d) dispensationalist, (e) Lutheran, (f) Baptist, and (g) Anglican (of course, some of these categories may overlap)

 

6. Major interest in theology rather than biblical studies

 

By using these criteria we were able to come up with a fairly good cross section of evangelicalism in the twentieth century. We knew at the outset that not everyone could be included and that some biblical scholars would eminently qualify. But our criteria were set, and the choices made. There might be legitimate discussion about some theologians who have not been included in this volume, but we doubt that many would exclude those who have been.

 

The next task was to choose writers for the various articles. It would have made excellent sense to have some of our subjects write on the earlier theologians. But that seemed too ingrown an idea. So we decided not to have anyone who was being written about write on someone else. That settled, where it was possible we chose people who were in one way or another close to the theologian being written about. For example, Glen Scorgie had written a biography of James Orr, and the general editor’s position at Wheaton College made Henry C. Thiessen’s literary output readily accessible. We hoped that this would provide a sense of freshness and immediacy to the essays.

 

* * *

 

Stott, John R. W.

 

Peter Williams

 

John Robert Walmsley Stott, the only son of a leading Harley Street physician, Sir Arnold Stott, was born on April 27, 1921. His father was “a scientific secularist,” but his mother brought him up as “a devout Lutheran.” He went to the famous Rugby School, where in 1938 he had a conversion experience under the ministry of E. J. H. Nash (“Bash”). Nash, who had developed a remarkable ministry amongst public-school boys, nurtured the young Stott, writing to him at least once a week for five years.

 

Stott was an idealistic young man who went up to Trinity College, Cambridge, in 1939 as an “instinctive pacifist.” This was an unusual attitude for an evangelical in those days, though one also held by Bash. It led to a severe straining of Stott’s relationship with his father, who was by now a major general in the Army Medical Service. For two years the elder Stott virtually refused to speak to his son. As a consequence, Bash became almost a surrogate father, subjecting the young man to severe and ruthless criticism, but also shaping significantly his Christian understanding. Bash was no intellectual—indeed, he was rather anti-intellectual—and seems particularly to have feared and distrusted theology. But Stott had what he modestly calls “an enquiring mind,” which led to a first class in modern languages in the first part of his degree and in theology in the second part. That he opted for theology was significant of the direction of his mind, and perhaps significant too as an indication of a new direction within evangelicalism. Academic theology was, it seemed, no longer to be feared and sneered at; rather, there was a commitment to use the mind in the service of God. Somewhat surprisingly, Bash does not appear to have objected, possibly because he was confident of Stott’s capacity and maturity. Even at this stage Stott was concerned to bridge the enormous gap between most British evangelicals and the intellectual world. A measure of the divide is that evangelical students were still warned of the dangers of social action and involvement in politics. Such concerns seemed “a fatal distraction from the main job in hand.”

 

That John Stott was unusual was recognized even in this rather narrow milieu. The leaders of the Cambridge Inter-Collegiate Christian Union had the wisdom not to ask him to join their committee, thus affording him time for evangelism and pastoral work. In 1945 he was ordained and became a curate in the parish in which he had been brought up, and to which he was to be attached for the whole of his ministry—All Souls, Langham Place. In 1950 he became rector. In 1970 he handed over much of the responsibility to Michael Baughen, and from 1975 he has held the title of rector emeritus.

 

From that base Stott has exercised an enormously significant ministry. He was from the first a teacher and preacher of the highest quality, committed to the centrality of the Bible. Consequently, he concentrated on expository preaching. The church was strategically placed in central London, so Stott began to use, as a means of evangelism, a monthly “guest service,” to which the congregation was encouraged to invite non-Christians. He also began in 1950 an annual training school to equip lay people for evangelism. And in 1961 he set up the All Souls International Fellowship to develop work among the many students from overseas.

 

Stott’s international vision, however, already encompassed much more than this. In 1961 he was a major force in the foundation of the Evangelical Fellowship in the Anglican Communion. This body displayed the emerging Stott hallmarks: a clearly evangelical but nonconfrontational approach; practical aims—the bringing of Anglican evangelicals worldwide into a closer fellowship; and concern that the evangelical voice be heard and commended so that an increasing evangelical contribution might be made throughout the Anglican communion. To achieve these ends, a number of evangelical councils were established. In England this took the form of the Church of England Evangelical Council, which was inevitably under Stott’s chairmanship. This group was to be of key importance over the next thirty years, first of all as a think tank, and then as a standing committee of the Anglican Evangelical Assembly (AEA).

 

This well illustrates the international nature and extraparochial character of Stott’s ministry, a feature established very early through his preaching, evangelism, and writing. A mission he led at Cambridge University in 1952 represented the reemergence of a much more scholarly and theologically credible style of evangelism. His addresses on this occasion were the foundation for Basic Christianity, which was to become his most widely read book. He was soon in very great demand as a preacher and evangelist, particularly in university contexts. Even at this early stage he was recognized as a leader within evangelical Anglicanism, at any rate among the younger clergy. He had natural gifts of leadership, as evidenced, for example, by his having been head boy at Rugby. Another mark of these gifts was his role in resurrecting the Eclectic Society (1955). Founded in 1783 by John Newton to bring evangelical clergy together, this organization had long been defunct. In its new shape it was confined to Anglican clergy under forty years of age and was, in its early days, composed mainly of “Bash” men with an Oxford or Cambridge background. It soon became more broadly based, however, and under Stott’s leadership provided a forum in which younger evangelicals could debate and explore issues outside the boundaries set up by their cautious elders, who were used to a much more defensive evangelicalism. The Eclectic Society was crucial in articulating new goals for evangelicalism and giving confidence to the emerging new leadership.

 

By the 1960s Stott’s central role within British evangelical Anglicanism was plain. His intellectual and theological capacity, his powerful and effective preaching, his visionary planning, and his capacity to create new national and international structures to embody the vision have already been noted. There were other qualities which marked him out as a leader of stature. He was, in the words of David Edwards, “a man of God, able to draw others into God’s presence.” Though an intellectual, Stott gave “the spiritual and the moral priority over the intellectual.” To those with whom he disagreed he showed a spirit of humble love which enabled him to appeal across the disparate forces within evangelicalism and to shake off the image of intolerant negativism which had too often characterized British evangelicalism in the first half of the twentieth century. He was, moreover, open to the rethinking and reformulations which marked the radical 1960s. These reformulations were hugely significant to evangelical Anglicanism, and Scott was central in their evolution. This can be seen in a number of ways.

 

First, Stott gave decisive direction to Anglican evangelicals when there was a major difference of opinion at the National Evangelical Assembly in October 1966. The issue was whether evangelicals should secede from their denominations when they felt that orthodox doctrine had been compromised. The nonconformist evangelical leader Martyn Lloyd-Jones urged this course of action. Stott, who was in the chair, “with much nervousness and diffidence” argued that both history and Scripture were against Lloyd-Jones’s views. If Stott later came to feel that he had abused the role of the chair in speaking so plainly and emotionally, his views remained unaltered. That there were few who followed Lloyd-Jones’s powerful call was in large part due to Stott’s influence.

 

Second, Stott was persuaded at some stage after the World Congress on Evangelism in Berlin in 1966 that the Great Commission included “social as well as evangelistic responsibility, unless we are to be guilty of distorting the words of Jesus.” This meant that a new ingredient—social action—was added to doctrinal, expository preaching, which had hitherto been his hallmark. This new ingredient was to become increasingly central. Under his direction a series of annual lectures by specialists on various relevant subjects began in 1974. And in 1982 he founded the London Institute for Contemporary Christianity, an action that a couple of years later led to a detailed study of some of the most intractable ethical and social problems of the time.

 

Third, and related to the first two considerations, was Stott’s role in the National Evangelical Anglican Congresses (Keele, 1967; Nottingham, 1977; and Caister, 1988). It is universally recognized that Keele marked a watershed for English Anglican evangelicalism, and that Stott’s role as chairman was decisive in enabling the younger evangelicals to have a major voice. The result was a statement which marked new directions: penitence for the individualism of the past; commitment to the present and future of the Church of England; renunciation of secession; endorsement of dialogue with other traditions; determination to work through the ethical implications of evangelical doctrines, “not only for the redemption of individuals but also for a reformation of society”; and making “a weekly celebration of the sacrament … the central corporate service of the church.” This was, judges Adrian Hastings, “one of the most important ecclesiastical documents not only of the sixties but of this century,” for it “greatly altered the Evangelical sense of direction.” At Nottingham, Stott was still central and enunciated the concern of the congress to apply the “truthfulness of Scripture [to] complex contemporary questions”; at the same time he acknowledged with characteristic humility and realism that the main contributors were “sometimes less than sure” in their understanding of how this should happen. If in the experiential, more self-consciously charismatic atmosphere of Caisters he remained formally central, but in reality more peripheral than he had previously been, he had played a key role in the emergence of the annual Anglican Evangelical Assembly.

 

Fourth, Stott came to terms, though rather uneasily, with the charismatic movement. Having encountered the movement in its early manifestations in English Anglicanism through his curate Michael Harper, Stott disavowed it in 1964. In the 1970s, however, he came to a practical rapprochement. Though his theological views did not change, he came to see that he had been “too negative” and “too reluctant to meet its leaders and talk with them.” His tempered acceptance of the movement was evidenced by his signing a joint statement of charismatic and noncharismatic English Anglican leaders in 1977. Though the document did not achieve agreement in detail, it did indicate a great deal of goodwill and understanding, which was surely significant in preventing a greater fissure over the issue. Stott now acknowledged that the charismatic movement had been beneficial to many and was “a healthy challenge to all mediocre Christian living and all stuffy church life.” He seemed prepared to “suspend judgement” on some charismatic manifestations and experiences, provided that they did not entail anything contrary to Scripture and that they were “beneficial to the believer and edifying to the church.”

 

Meanwhile, freed in 1970 from the day-to-day duties of pastoring a church, Stott became an increasingly major figure on the stage of world evangelicalism and Christianity. He developed tools for his vision, which had long been far wider than the Church of England and indeed Anglicanism. The Langham Trust, which was set up in 1969, enabled Stott to travel widely, particularly in the Third World; it gave to potential Third World Christian leaders scholarships for doctoral work at British centers of academic excellence; and it provided funds for educational, medical, and social needs in the Third World. In 1971 Stott created the Evangelical Literature Trust to distribute Christian literature in Third World and Eastern European countries. The initial funding came from Stott’s book royalties, but in time came from many other sources. By 1990 books with a face value of Ј1.2 million were distributed. All this was in addition to Stott’s international initiatives through the Evangelical Fellowship in the Anglican Communion, which, in addition to strategic planning, played a substantial role in providing scholarships and distributing literature.

 

Even more important has been Stott’s role as a sort of unaccredited international ecclesiastical statesman. Sir Arnold Stott had wanted his son to join the diplomatic service—and with some reason, as John demonstrated when playing “the role of diplomat in many evangelical gatherings.” His most telling contribution was at the Lausanne Congress on World Evangelization (1974). Here was a stage where evangelicals were separated not only by national but also by church boundaries, where there were many who had withdrawn from traditional denominations because of perceived compromises, and who were deeply hostile to the sort of ecumenical dialogue to which Keele had committed evangelical Anglicans. In this situation Stott was very influential as a theologian, speaker, president of the commission which produced the final draft of the Lausanne Covenant, and chairman of a follow-up committee, the Lausanne Theological and Education Group. It was, Hastings judges, because of him “that the Lausanne Covenant avoided a commitment to the verbal inspiration of Scripture, made social action a partner of evangelism, and stressed—instead of individual and undenominational evangelism—the collective responsibility of the visible Church.” This was all the more remarkable, Hastings argues, as none of these positions was particularly congenial to mainline American evangelicals. It is not possible at this stage in time and without access to Lausanne primary sources to assess the accuracy of this judgment. It has a general plausibility, though it will become clear that Stott’s own view of Scripture is broadly that of conservative evangelicalism as defined in the Chicago Statement. Moreover, there were many other voices speaking urgently for the emphases which are said to have emerged thanks to him. It is certain, however, that he did have a key role in drafting the covenant. Christopher Catherwood’s judgment that Stott bridged the divide between the traditionalists, who trusted him because of his commitment to evangelism and his “known devotion to the exposition of the Word of God,” and the radicals, who respected him because of his “evident concern for the poor and oppressed,” has an authentic ring to it.

 

Stott so closely intertwines reflection and action that it is impossible to look at his theology without paying close attention to the context in which it has been hammered out. Though intellectually very gifted, he has never been motivated to be an academic. He is self-confessedly “by temperament an activist,” and his work has been driven by evangelistic, pastoral, and ethical concerns. His books, then, have not pressed back the frontiers for theologians. They have, instead, sought to make the Scriptures accessible in a way which takes seriously but not slavishly the contribution of theologians; and recently, at any rate, they have sought to explore in some depth the biblical message for today’s world. They mix passionate conviction with open-minded exploration, a deep conservatism in regard to the biblical text with a sometimes adventurous radicalism in relation to its application, and occasionally a surprisingly savage rejection of positions he regards as false with a generally irenic disposition towards those who hold them. Thus he combines the urgency of the evangelist, the conviction of the dogmatic theologian who is also a pastor, the generosity of a wide-ranging churchman who has discovered unexpected affinities with those he once took to be implacable opponents, some of the caution of an upper-middle-class English diplomat, much of the charm of an instinctive persuader, the considerable self-awareness of a person who is both brave and humble enough to acknowledge having much to repent of and much to learn, and the unselfconscious love that results from an unusually close relationship with the Lord. This is a most effective combination which has ensured that his books, articles, and contributions to conferences have been as popular with committed and serious evangelical church members as they have been largely ignored by most academic theologians.

 

Doctrine of Scripture

There is no doubt that the starting place for understanding Stott’s theology must be his doctrine of Scripture. He most definitely does not subscribe to the theory of mechanical dictation; on the contrary, he is much concerned to stress that the “background, convictions and gifts [of the biblical authors] were fully and freely expressed in what they said and wrote.” But if God did not destroy their personality, “neither did their personality destroy God’s inspiration.” He is the source of Scripture. It is therefore true and, to quote the Lausanne Covenant, “without error in all that it affirms.” In the end the clinching argument is Christ’s attitude toward Scripture—inasmuch as “He endorsed the authority of Scripture, we are bound to conclude that His authority and Scripture’s authority either stand or fall together.”

 

Stott is, however, determined not to be considered a fundamentalist. This is primarily because of fundamentalism’s tendency toward the view that God actually dictated the Scriptures, which undermines the human element. The dictation theory insufficiently emphasizes the fact that the Bible is both a human and divine book. There is a “dual authorship.” Because it is human, the Bible must be studied critically. Consequently, Stott has no problems in principle with the approach of biblical criticism, though he may often disagree with its presuppositions and conclusions. While he defends the role of biblical criticism, he takes a very high view of the divine in Scripture and is prepared to align himself with the inerrantists, provided that the phrases “as originally given” and “as correctly interpreted” are inserted as qualifiers. At the same time, and this is typical of the breadth of the man, he is very anxious not to cause polarization with evangelicals who hold a somewhat less rigorous position.

 

All this opens up the question of interpretation, which Stott clearly regards as of the very first importance. Here the dangers of dependency on reason or on tradition, rather than submission to biblical authority, loom large for all—including evangelicals. If there is a proper submission to its authority, then the power of the Bible will be released. That means reading the Bible expectantly and trusting to hear what it says rather than depending on extrabiblical visions and revelations. It also means a commitment to expository preaching.

 

This basic position of submission to the authority of Scripture has been unchanged throughout Stott’s ministry. It was evident, for example, at Keele. Where there has been significant movement is in the understanding of the importance of interpretation and in particular the role of culture. This does not seem to have been a dominant subject in his earlier works; rather we find an emphasis on the Holy Spirit’s guidance to the individual combined with a rather grudging acknowledgment that the church must have a place provided that it does not undermine the Reformers’ insistence on “the right of private judgment,” and a commendation of the use of our “rational and critical powers.” After Lausanne the emphasis is increasingly that God uses “the cultural background of the biblical writers in order to convey through each a message appropriate to them as real people in real situations.” It is therefore crucially important to allow the various cultures to apprehend the Word which is particularly fitting for them. The gospel cannot be precisely packaged, but must be delivered with great sensitivity both to the leading of the Spirit and to the existential situation. Accordingly, in the words of the Willowbank Report, which came out of the Lausanne committee chaired by Stott, “the church must be allowed to indigenize itself, and to ‘celebrate, sing and dance’ the gospel in its own cultural medium.” At the same time he warns that this must not lead to provincialism that is adrift from the church and the rest of the world. Indeed, though his evangelical suspicion of tradition remains apparent, he does seem open to taking it seriously if it is understood as progressing and developing. He speaks, for example, of the continuing illumination of the Holy Spirit and its “progressively clarifying the church’s mind on the great doctrines of Scripture”; he also implies that the twentieth-century church enjoys a richer heritage than did any previous generation.

 

Emphasis on the Cross

If “we bow to the authority of Scripture because we bow to the authority of Christ,” we make the cross the center of our Christian understanding, for it “stood at the centre of Jesus’ own perspective.” Stott’s weightiest book is devoted to this theme and, in particular, to the contention that the atonement is to be understood objectively. In his explication he vigorously defends the concepts of substitution, satisfaction, and propitiation. He views sin with the utmost seriousness, defining it as an active “refusing to acknowledge and obey [God] as our Creator and Lord.” It is an individual responsibility. We are morally responsible agents whose sin is incompatible with God’s holiness. Stott rejects as unproven C. H. Dodd’s and Anthony Hanson’s descriptions of God’s wrath as impersonal. Writing powerfully of the incompatibility of divine holiness and human sin, he suggests that a major contemporary problem is the failure to take sin seriously. He quotes approvingly R. W. Dale’s judgment: “It is partly because sin does not provoke our own wrath, that we do not believe that sin provokes the wrath of God.”

 

God’s answer to sin was the atoning death of Christ, and the key to understanding what it achieved is substitution. Stott rejects any suggestion, however, that Christ appeased a wrathful God. Rather, God and Christ took “the initiative together to save sinners.” Thus our substitute is neither God alone, nor Christ alone, “but God in Christ, who was truly and fully both God and man, and who, on that account, was uniquely qualified to represent both God and man and to mediate between them.” This removes, Stott argues, any sense of immorality from substitutionary atonement, “since the substitute for the law-breakers is none other than the divine Lawmaker himself.” Yet Stott also contends that there was a moment of dereliction reflected in the cry, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Mark 15:34 niv). This was real separation, but a separation “voluntarily accepted by both the Father and the Son.” Substitution, then, is central to understanding the atonement, but it is a substitution in which God is totally involved. The cross “smashes to smithereens” any idea of God’s enjoying the suffering of the world, for on the cross he himself entered into its suffering. “We are not to envisage Him on a deck-chair, but on a cross. The God who allows us to suffer, once suffered himself in Christ, and continues to suffer with us and for us today.” Stott of course uses other terms—propitiation, redemption, justification, reconciliation—but he argues that substitution is not a parallel to them, “but rather the foundation of them all, without which each lacks cogency.”

 

Not surprisingly, such an uncompromising defense of an unpopular doctrine has opened Stott to severe criticism. David Edwards, for example, asks why if substitution is the heart of the gospel, it is not so categorized in the Gospels. Indeed, he declares that the idea of God’s “sacrificing himself to himself [is] not only inexplicable but also incomprehensible.” Stott’s reply is typical: gently pointing out a misrepresentation of what he had said (his actual words were, “God’s satisfying himself by substituting himself for us”), he goes back to the biblical evidence and argues that only the concept of substitution satisfactorily explains it; all other attempts at explanation fail to provide “a radical enough remedy for my needs.” He thus contends that the concept of substitution is not meaningless.

 

Emphasis on Preaching and Evangelism

Stott’s emphasis on preaching and evangelism flows naturally from the cross: “The gospel is in essence the good news of Christ crucified,” and it is ever the task of the preacher to bring the cross “out of the past and into the present.” Stott characterizes himself as “an impenitent believer in the indispensable necessity of preaching both for evangelism and for the healthy growth of the church.” Preaching is, in essence, “making known the Name of the Lord.” The contemporary disenchantment with preaching is the result of a loss of confidence in the gospel. There needs to be less concern for what modern individuals have to say to the church, and more concern for what the church has to say to them. Stott has great confidence in the appeal of the Bible: “For whenever the Bible is truly and systematically expounded, God uses it to give his people the vision without which they perish.” This declaring of the truth of the Word is above all the task of the pastor. Demanding much in the way of time, intellect, resources, and prayer, it must be followed by appropriate application. Such commitment is demonstrated in Stott’s joint editorship of The Bible Speaks Today series and in his personal contribution of six New Testament commentaries to it.

 

We have already suggested that Stott’s recent writings give a greater emphasis to contemporary culture. He admits that his practice in the past was “to expound the biblical text and leave the application largely to the Holy Spirit.” He now speaks of throwing bridges across the “broad and deep divide of two thousand years of changing culture.” This means understanding both the ancient and the modern world. It also means making greater rather than fewer demands on congregations. Too often, he judges, people come to church “with their problems, and they leave with their problems. The sermon has not spoken to their need.” Stott’s vision for preaching is underpinned by a fundamental conviction about human rationality. The intelligence of the congregation must not be underestimated:

 

My plea is that we treat them as real people with real questions; that we grapple in our sermons with real issues; and that we build bridges into the real world in which they live and love, work and play, laugh and weep, struggle and suffer, grow old and die. We have to provoke them to think about their life in all its moods, to challenge them to make Jesus Christ the Lord of every area of it, and to demonstrate his contemporary relevance.

 

In all this there is a recurring emphasis on recovering “the lost Christian mind.” Here the influence of Harry Blamires is evident. Blamires had stressed the degree to which Christians have come to accept secular attitudes and have lost the framework of Christian presuppositions. Stott pleads for a restoration of that framework, a balanced emphasis on creation, the fall, redemption, and the coming consummation. This can be achieved only by weekly preaching which features these teachings.

 

Emphasis on Social Issues

A natural extension of such preaching is to apply the Christian message to both personal ethics and sociopolitical issues. As far as general personal ethics are concerned, Stott is somewhat withering about the way some Christians have “pitifully trivialised” the real problems by an unhealthy concentration on insignificant matters relating to worldliness. Such matters are micro-ethics in comparison with the really significant issues that must be dealt with. The gospel has consequences for Christian behavior. These consequences must be spelled out in preaching; to do so is “neither legalism nor pharisaism but plain apostolic Christianity.”

 

Stott then moves on to social and political issues. These, too, should be dealt with—and from the pulpit. Stott is clear that, when taken together, several of the basic doctrines of Christianity (God is Creator, Lawgiver, Lord, and Judge; humans are of unique worth because they are made in God’s image; Christ identifies with humankind and calls Christians to identify with others; salvation involves radical transformation; and the church should be at once distinct from the world and able to penetrate it for Christ) constitute “the biblical basis for mission, for both evangelistic and social responsibility. They lay upon us our obligation to be involved in the life of the world.” Because they do that, there is inevitably a responsibility on the preacher “to open up the biblical principles which relate to the problems of contemporary society, in such a way as to help everybody to develop a Christian judgment about them, and to inspire and encourage the opinion-formers and policy-makers in the congregation, who occupy influential positions in public life, to apply these biblical principles to their professional life.”

 

When sociopolitical issues are deeply controversial, they must not be ignored (the way of the coward) or presented in a partisan way (a misuse of the pulpit). Rather, the aim should be to enunciate the biblical principles in such a way that the preacher’s own position is clear, but the congregation is given space to form their own opinions according to those principles. There is a strong duty on the local church to develop “a prophetic ministry to proclaim the law of God and to teach justice … to be the conscience of the community … to help the [members of the church] develop a Christian mind, so that [they] may learn to think Christianly even about controversial questions.”

 

All this demands close and detailed work on the issues of the day, a task from which Stott does not shrink. His chosen style, which is wholly typical of his character, is “the strategy of ‘persuasion’ by argument.” In a non-Christian, pluralist society, this strategy, instead of laying down laws (whether biblical or any other kind) authoritatively, involves arguing “the intrinsic truth and value of a thing which is self-evident and therefore self-authenticating.” All humans have an inkling of God’s law; arguments need to be deployed to show that its aim is one’s own well-being and that of society. Quite often these arguments will appeal to self-interest, but that is to be expected and is indeed necessary. Stott quotes William Temple approvingly: “The art of government in fact is the art of so ordering life that self-interest prompts what justice demands.” A realist about politics, Stott recognizes that those who are involved in public life will often have to use ad hominem arguments, “and in the policies they develop they will have to be content with reality.” Christians who live in democratic societies are particularly advantaged because democracy “reflects the balanced biblical view of man”; it is “the political expression of ‘persuasion’ by argument.” Ideally, in calling for discussion, criticism, and compromise, democracy involves more people in decisions and is concerned with the interests of all rather than of a faction or a party.

 

Stott remains hopeful about what can be achieved. While secular society succumbs to feelings of alienation and helplessness, many Christians, he laments, fall into line with a tendency to pessimism. For this pessimism they have neither historical nor biblical justification. In particular the doctrine of humanity’s having been created in the image of God gives grounds for hope: “The divine image … has not been obliterated … there are non-Christian people who have good marriages, non-Christian parents who bring their children up well, non-Christian industrialists who run factories on a just basis, and non-Christian doctors who still take the Hippocratic standards as their guide and are conscientious in the care of their patients.” Yet this is no argument to proceed as if the task were only to rouse people to some innate sense of God’s law within their hearts. The doctrine of redemption is crucial here. There is a close relationship between evangelism and social responsibility. In the end, societies which have begun to accept the gospel are more likely to demonstrate social justice. Stott is confident that a tiny minority of Christians can achieve a great deal.

 

In relation to particular questions, Stott’s approach is careful, fair, judicious, and extremely well briefed. Where the Bible speaks or appears to speak with clarity, his conclusions are always in tune with it, even if that means going against the contemporary grain—as with his views on women in the ministry. Where the Bible is not clear, his views can be quite radical. He is a nuclear pacifist. He is ecologically aware. A supporter of global economic cooperation and an increased voice for workers, he also protests against cultural imperialism.

 

It follows from all that has gone before that evangelism and social action are primary concerns for Stott. He eschews any view which makes either evangelism or social action the sole goal. The Great Commission in its Johannine form is the linchpin: “As thou didst send me into the world, so I have sent them into the world” (John 17:18 rsv). Jesus was sent as both Savior and servant in such a way that it is quite impossible “to separate his works from his words.” If Christians are sent in the same way, it follows that they must also serve.

 

Emphasis on Dialogue

Evangelism, Stott stresses, is an announcement of the Good News “irrespective of the results.” The Good News is of course that of Jesus—his death for our sins, his resurrection, the fact that he reigns “and has authority both to command repentance and faith, and to bestow forgiveness of sins and the gift of the Spirit on all those who repent, believe and are baptized.” Preaching is the major means of presenting the Good News, but Stott is open to dialogue with other faiths on the grounds that Jesus was “constantly addressing questions to his hearers’ minds and consciences.” Dialogue, however, must ever be subordinate to proclamation which has conversion as its end. Unacceptable is the type of dialogue emphasizing, as does the World Council of Churches on occasion, that Christ is present in non-Christian religions to the point where it seems that the non-Christian becomes “the bearer of Christ’s message to the Christian.”

 

There is, of course, a sense in which Christ is present in non-Christians. Paul makes it clear that there is a universal knowledge of God which is sufficient to render all humans without excuse. And John speaks of the Logos’s being in the world long before he actually came. Because of this presence, everyone “possesses some degree of light by his reason and conscience. And we should not hesitate to claim that everything good, beautiful and true, in all history and in all the earth, has come from Jesus Christ, even though men are ignorant of its origin.” Stott hastens to add that this is not a saving light. Humans have, however, sufficient light to be responsible for their rebellion against God, even though they have not heard of Christ. When pressed on the issue of their fate, Stott is neither wholly agnostic nor certain that they will inevitably perish. He cherishes the hope “that the majority of the human race will be saved,” of course citing biblical support (Luke 13:29; 1 Tim. 2:4; 2 Pet. 3:9; Rev. 7:9).

 

Who is to carry out the task of ministry in the world? Stott emphasizes the lay role and acknowledges the influence of the charismatic movement in bringing it back to the center. Yet he is clear that overseers or pastors remain necessary in churches of any size. They will work in teams, and at least some are likely to be full-time. On the other hand, Stott is uneasy with the concept of priesthood because he has been unable to find any support for it in the Bible. This has been noted by friendly critics such as George Carey and is in line with Stott’s general uneasiness in discussing such issues as the sacraments, the church, and tradition.

 

Clearly, Stott values the sacraments, though many of his references to them serve only to emphasize the primacy of the Word. Equally clearly the church is central in Stott’s thought; after all, it is “the creation of God by his Word.” Yet it would be quite difficult to work out an elaborate ecclesiology from Stott’s writings. We do know from his differences with Lloyd-Jones that he does not believe in a pure church. Indeed, many of his references to the church come with a sad catalogue of how far it has departed at various times from its Word-based center. And while he maintains that the beliefs of evangelicalism are “historic, mainline, trinitarian Christianity,” he retains and values fellowship with many, such as Edwards, who find difficulties in the evangelical position. His primary concern, it would seem, has been to reform the church rather than to define its boundaries.

 

Stott has little sympathy with the value which many place on tradition. Though he does sometimes mention it favorably as a counter to excessive evangelical individualism, these references are always heavily couched with declarations that tradition does not possess the infallibility of Scripture. More particularly, reliance on tradition ignores the Reformers’ insistence on the right of private judgment. It is, declares Stott, “the birthright of every child of God to learn his Father’s voice speaking to him directly through Scripture.” Here there seems to be more than an echo of nineteenth-century evangelical apologetic against Tractarian excesses.

 

In contrast to Stott’s position, Peter Toon has argued that the right of private judgment was more likely a seventeenth-century rather than a sixteenth-century concept. Certainly the Reformers saw the Word as primary, and in theory it was possible for them to be forced into a position where they had to hold to the Word against the whole church. In practice, however, when they disagreed with the contemporary church, they felt assured that they, rather than the contemporary church, were in tune with the traditions of the true church; and they certainly resisted the tendency of some of their followers towards valuing the judgment of the individual over that of the church with its long-held and deep understanding of the biblical revelation. It was the view of the Reformers that the Bible had primacy and was in continuity with much church tradition; accordingly, no individual plowman ignorant of the long and painful battles for doctrinal understanding should pit his judgment, however much apparently formed under Scripture, against that of the church.

 

It is perhaps significant that when Stott engages in dialogue with Roman Catholics, issues such as the sacraments, the church, and tradition do not seem to loom large. While there may be an emphasis in Stott on understanding Scripture within a community context, the areas of meaningful dialogue seem to be biblical authority, mission, salvation, and the relationship between the gospel and culture. This is not surprising because it is in these areas that Stott’s strengths lie.

 

A Practical Rapprochement with the Charismatic Movement

We have already noted that Stott came to a practical acceptance of the charismatic movement without abandoning his theological reservations. His fundamental objection was that Spirit baptism was regarded as an addition to the initial experience of salvation in Christ. All Christians by definition have experienced Spirit baptism, though there is a constant need to be filled with the Spirit, for “the fullness of the Spirit is to be continuously appropriated by faith.” The chief evidence thereof will be one’s moral life rather than miraculous gifts, the Spirit’s fruit rather than the Spirit’s gifts, a desire for fellowship and worship rather than any particular dramatic manifestation.

 

A problem with dramatic manifestations is that their origin and nature are not always clear. They may be demonic, they may be psychologically induced; on the other hand, they may be analogous to conversion experiences, or they may be an authentic deeper experience of God. He can come in varied and fresh ways appropriate to different personalities and thus fill his people with a love for him—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Stott is concerned that these experiences not be stereotyped by a few zealous souls, for though God may sometimes grant such experiences, they are certainly not necessary to the Christian life.

 

What is crucial to the Christian life is the fruit of spiritual growth. This demands discipline and personal endeavor and can be achieved only gradually. Nonetheless, special gifts are important for the diverse ministry of the church. They will be varied, more often in continuity than in discontinuity with one’s natural gifts, and may occasionally be miraculous. Miraculous gifts will be quite rare, however, because by definition miracles are “a creative deviation from God’s normal and natural ways of working.” Furthermore, miracles were intended to authenticate the four main vehicles of God’s special revelation—the law, the prophets, the Lord, and the apostles—all of which lie in the past; there can therefore be no expectation of frequent miracles today. In regard to contemporary manifestations Stott advocates open-minded inquiry. He reserves the word prophet, however, for those who had a role in God’s special revelation before that revelation was completed, for this is the biblical understanding of the term. He also maintains that the New Testament tongues were communications in other languages rather than ecstatic utterances, and that there is no benefit to tongues without a translation.

 

All this amounts to placing substantial question marks over the current charismatic movement. At the same time we have noted that Stott now acknowledges that the movement can bring blessing; clearly, he values its emphasis on the ministry of every member and indeed sees its protest against clericalism as one of the main factors in its growth. In all of this discussion Stott reveals his commitment to Scripture, using all the powers of reason that God has given him, and yet we also see the fair-mindedness and graciousness which are his hallmark. Nonetheless, Stott’s stance here, perhaps more than on any other issue, shows that he is more comfortable with the Puritan, Reformed tradition of evangelicalism than with Pietism, Keswick, and the charismatic movement. The former, in the shape that it has taken since the late eighteenth century, owes much to the Enlightenment; the latter, to the Romantic movement. Stott is, in this sense, an “Enlightenment man”; that is, he takes reason and a belief in a God of order as his starting place. David Bebbington observes that Stott’s career is evidence that evangelicalism has embraced rather than discarded the most admirable values of the Enlightenment, including “scientific investigation, hope for the future and humane reform”; indeed, “the career of John Stott is an enduring monument [to the principle that these] do not stand opposed to evangelical religion.” The assessment of Stott as an Enlightenment man also explains some of his problems with the experiential emphasis of the charismatic movement. It is surely highly significant that Stott asserts, in the course of a discussion on tongues, that the biblical God “is a rational God and does not delight in irrationality or unintelligibility.”

 

Influence

John Stott is a rare combination of preacher, teacher, pastor, evangelist, church statesman and diplomat, strategic planner and creative administrator, theologian, and ambassador for Christ. He must surely be placed alongside Charles Simeon as one of the most positive, creative, and formative leaders of English Anglican evangelicalism during the last two hundred years. This influence has done much to create and nurture the present strength of evangelicalism within the Church of England. It is not surprising, then, that Edwards considers him to be “apart from William Temple … the most influential clergyman in the Church of England during the twentieth century.”

 

Assessing Stott’s role in the worldwide church is more difficult. Manifestly, he has had great influence in the English-speaking world and those countries which have been evangelized by missionaries from that world. His inspiration and support of church leaders in less developed countries, combined with the immensely practical aid that he has organized (particularly, high-level theological study), may come to be regarded as one of his most enduring contributions. Because he decided not to be the official representative of a particular church, but a spokesman for worldwide evangelicalism, he has not had the decisive role in great international and ecumenical gatherings that might otherwise have been possible. On the other hand, his calls for a consistent reliance on biblical authority, a passionate commitment to evangelism, an engagement with the many-sided dilemmas in God’s world, and a careful creation of the structures necessary to draw evangelicals together and to effect practical policies have wielded considerable influence. In all this he has been a voice of authority, but also of calm, open, enlightened reason and common sense.

 

The true extent of Stott’s long-term influence will be evident only when the future course of the charismatic movement becomes clear. Will it be absorbed into evangelicalism and the church at large, adding depth and richness, but not undermining fundamental convictions about authority, preaching, and the role of the Christian mind? Or will it, as Stott at times appears to fear, subvert most of the principles for which he has stood? Nothing, however, can take away from his immediate impact. That a rather patrician upper-middle-class Englishman with a high view of biblical authority and a wholehearted commitment to godly reason and to careful organization has been such a mighty force in a world that is suspicious of inherited privilege, reluctant to acknowledge authority, inclined to be dismissive of structure, and more concerned to follow the immediate instincts of the heart than to engage in the hard work necessary for a true understanding of the Word and its implications for the world, is one of the modern miracles of the Lord.

 

Primary Sources

 

Secondary Sources