October 2011
This is the second
sermon by Mr. Fox to review, and the seventh from Balmoral Bible Chapel. We
listened by podcast.
Mr. Fox, Balmoral
Bible Chapel, September 18th, 2011, Believe and Grow.
Summary: (Mr. Fox begins by touching
on his past; he then reads part of Psalm 78; he follows that up with a word on
the nature of the Church and the responsibility of discipleship; then he reads
from John 20.30, 31; and then he goes over some basics on the apostle John.)
What we want to do now is to look at John’s life after the cross, after the
resurrection. This is a great time of reformation in Israel Smyrna
Remarks: The only positive points we
can come up with are these: Mr. Fox reads the Bible with seriousness and
enthusiasm; he states that faith means trust; he stresses that faith must be in
Jesus Christ alone; and he mentions a string of doctrines near the end. If the
sermon were good enough to be called tolerable, we could devote more time and
space to speaking positively.
For content, spirit, form, and method, this sermon
is one of the most poverty-stricken that we have ever heard. In a word, this
sermon is worthless.
The content. Was the apostle John a disciple of John
the Baptist? Maybe he was, but where did Mr. Fox get the proof? He didn’t get
it from the Bible. He states the opinion so matter-of-factly that persons
knowing no more than Mr. Fox does might simply receive the dubious dogma as a
biblical fact. And what if someone decides to check this assertion out by the
Bible? He will find that the Bible says no such thing and he will be tempted to
doubt the religion that Mr. Fox professes. This is why opinions that are
biblically insupportable need to be tempered. Stating opinions from the pulpit
as if they are facts taken straight from the Bible, even on minor matters, can
cause unbelievers to become more skeptical and cynical than they already are.
They will doubt some particulars, and on good grounds, and then they will
resolve to continue disbelieving the Christian message. A mistake like this on
the beginnings of John is not a large doctrinal fault. But it goes a long way
toward making a listener suspicious. Why should a listener be comfortable believing
anything Mr. Fox has to say? He has no reason to. We found two sources on the
internet for this opinion on John: allaboutjesus.org and Wikapedia. (We do not,
of course, mention Wikapedia as a reliable source for interpretation of sacred
truth; we mention it because it seems that Mr. Fox may have used that secular
site to get some of his sermon material from.) We did not find this opinion
about John among the commentators that we
resort to: like Matthew Henry, Albert Barnes, and Adam Clarke. We did find it
in Jamieson, Fausset, & Brown, where it is dogmatically stated, but without
reference to the Bible because the opinion cannot be found there. What about
the apostle John being dipped into hot oil without suffering any harm? This
‘anecdote’ can be found on Wikapedia too, which mentions Tertullian for a
source. John Foxe, in his Acts and
Monuments, gives the story as a legend that may be true. He’s a bit of a
heavyweight. But usually, when you find this story being shared in a reputable
book, it is presented as a legend, not a historical event. And that is the
safest way to handle extra-biblical, sensational anecdotes that touch on
biblical characters, themes, or doctrines. State mere opinion as fact about
some subject in the Bible, and what happens? People listening to you believe
it, the opinion spreads, and what may be merely legendary begins to loom as
large as biblical truth. Is that not how the cult of Mary began? Begin to throw
opinions out as facts, and the thin edge of the wedge has begun, and heresies
will follow through the gap. Both Albert Barnes and Jamieson, Fausset, &
Brown are very careful to give this story out as legendary. No matter which way
we lean, either this way or that, a story like this must be shared with reserve
and qualification. Mr. Fox does not exercise any caution. What about Polycarp
being lit on fire and ‘nothing happens to him.’ This is a misrepresentation of
how the story is generally related. No doubt Mr. Fox gives it out like this in
order to parallel with, and build on, what he believes happened to John in the
notion of boiling oil. Even Wikapedia (which we never recommend as a source to
go to for confirmation of any sacred matter) is more careful than Mr. Fox is.
There it says that Polycarp was stabbed when the fire failed to touch him. This
agrees with John Foxe’s communication on the same: the flames encircled his
body like an arch, and so the executioner was ordered to put him to death by
piercing. (John Foxe probably gets carried away when he adds that the blood came
out so much as to extinguish the fire.) What should be especially taken note of
is that the way Mr. Fox presents the story of Polycarp confirms what we warned
of above: an opinion given out as a fact is the thin edge of the wedge for more
of the same; it is the avenue making way for more. Mr. Fox does not stop with
stating the doubtful story about John being dipped in oil and not suffering
harm from it. The temptation is to build on this, to go a little further for
effect. And this is probably why we get the strange spin from him on the
martyrdom of Polycarp. Just look at how these ‘accounts’ are presented by Mr.
Fox. The apostle John is dipped in oil and ‘nothing happens.’ And so Polycarp
is lit on fire and ‘nothing happens to him.’ Do you see the progression of
sinful assumption here? Mr. Fox encourages his crowd to read Commentaries. But
he does not mention any. Maybe he’s too embarrassed to say who is sources are.
Either this pastor reads good Commentaries carelessly (not minding the
provisos), or he reads to receive whatever uncritical Commentaries have to say.
In either case, he ends up preaching uncritical remarks from the pulpit. What
we have said so far could leave the impression that this sermon contains actual
content, albeit of doubtful legitimacy. In truth, there is almost nothing in
it. The history of himself, his own sons being sons of thunder, the notice of
his mentor’s death, the word ‘church’ being reserved for persons, not
buildings: this is pretty much what the sermon consists of, and all of this
space-filling, time-consuming information has nothing at all to do with the
title of the sermon: ‘Believe and Grow.’ And if you are going to give out your
testimony, even in part, is it not a good idea to tell us something more
significant about it than that you were picked up by a Presbyterian bus and
brought to church? Should such vacuous biography convince anyone that you got
saved? There just isn’t any content in this message: not in the testimony, and
not in what follows it. We have encountered this often by now: pastors talk a
lot about what they aim to say, but they end up saying nothing. There can be no
idea in this pastor’s head that his job is to wrestle with a text of Scripture
in order to get some substance out of it. The idea should be there, for this is
what he tells his listeners to do: “to wrestle with the things that the Bible
teaches concerning the book of John.” Those are his words exactly. What kind of
Bible-school could have been content to send a man out to teach who has not even
learned that the Scriptures must be mined? The doctrines he tacks on at the end
are so disconnected from the rest of the sermon that we wonder why they even
appear. There is no sense of progression here, no connexions, no reason, no
content, and the result is a confusing mess. Almost any man with a wee bit of
talent for speaking, any man, saved or unsaved, could give us, without any
study, more biblical truth than what this sermon contains. This pastor gives us
nothing. How can the Holy Spirit use a message that has nothing in it?
The spirit. The spirit of this sermon is like the
juvenile, immature atmosphere that swirls around the campfire at your
conventional Bible-camp for teenagers. There you might hear someone read a
verse, and then remark, ‘That’s the heart of the Father.’ Mr. Fox, this is no
acute observation. The whole Bible is the heart of the Father. Another error of
the spiritual sort is committed when the meeting at the mount of
transfiguration is brought up. Peter wanted to raise tabernacles, or booths,
there. But maybe it wouldn’t be hip enough to use biblical terminology. So
let’s have Peter say something like, ‘Let’s just camp here.’ Yes, and maybe
they should have cracked open a twelve-pack or even a two-four! Maybe they
might have put some steaks on the bar-b! That’s what Mr. Fox’s street-style is
suggestive of, and what it may yet come to if he doesn’t get sanctified. At
some other point in the sermon, he remarks, ‘How’s about the suffering in the
garden?’ Yes, how’s about it, Mr. Pastor, how’s about actually telling us
something about the tormenting event that led to the death that you claim to be
saved by? How about doing some work on your sermon so that death can be
elevated in the eyes of the people who have come before you to receive
Communion? How about becoming a trained, serious, holy pastor of souls? How
about that? Another fault is committed when he goes on about who his favorites
are. The apostle John is his favorite pastor. The apostle Paul is his favorite
theologian. And the theology of Paul trumps that of J. C. Did you know that?
When I heard this comment, my first impression was that there must be some
pastor going by those initials in the congregation. But then I began to wonder.
Is that possibly a reference to Jesus Christ? I have since learned that J. C.
for Jesus Christ is popular shorthand among churchgoers these days. The Analyst
must get out more, for he did not know this! That is an amazingly telling
anecdote! Is that where churchgoers are at, spiritually? We can be so familiar
with the Saviour of our soul that we may refer to him by an acronym now?! Oh,
he must be on the same level as Pastor Dan, Pastor Shane, and those guys! What
a marvelous revelation! It must be so easy to get a high place in heaven when
the Person who decides on whether you get there or not is your bosom-chum! Now,
having John for a favorite pastor, Paul for a favorite theologian, and to
maintain that the theology of Paul trumps that of our Lord, what does this
remind us of? (Let’s pass quickly over the fact that to put the sayings of
Jesus and the writings of Paul in competition with one another is a false
dichotomy since the Spirit is the underlying Author of all Revelation.) We stated in the first analysis that Balmoral has,
to our appearance, a babe in its pulpit. And here is more evidence that he is
in fact no more than a babe, and possibly something less. His emphasis on who
his favorites are reminds us of the baby Corinthians when they were choosing
favorites: “I am of Paul; and I of Apollos; and I of Cephas; and I of Christ”
(1 Corinthians 1.12.) Mr. Fox, “was Paul crucified for you?” (verse 13.) If you
are truly saved by faith in Jesus Christ, take heart, little Corinthian, for
“all things are yours; whether Paul, or Apollos, or Cephas” (3.21, 22.) You are
on the verge of idolizing John and Paul. And, “Ye have not so learned Christ”
(Ephesians 4.20.) The spirit of this sermon is babyish and irreverent. By the
pastor’s way of speaking, you get the feeling that if he met Jesus, he would,
instead of falling down to worship, punch him on the shoulder, and exclaim, ‘J.
C., how’s it going, dude!’ And maybe after punching him on the shoulder, he
would take Jesus aside to discuss who the best theologian is. Try addressing
the Lord Jesus Christ as ‘J. C.’ at the second coming and see how far you get
into God’s kingdom! Let’s wait and see if the Lord’s theology is ‘trumped’ on that day! (If the pastor means to denote
some peer by the acronym, we apologize for making an issue out of nothing. We
both hope and doubt that the apology is necessary.)
The form and method. A pastor should preach his
text, or announce that preaching will be trumped by testimony today, or fold
his testimony into the sermon somewhere, succinctly. To have your testimony (if
we may call it that) take up more than half your sermon, what is this done for?
Because you have nothing to say? Because you have no real sermon on ‘believe
and grow’ after all? It seems like this pastor went all over his imagination
and disreputable commentaries in search of sermon material, then scattered
these bits pell-mell and then called the grubby pile a sermon: fait accompli. The first sermon of his
that we reviewed was ordered like so: speech about being a pastor; textual
context; reading of passage; preaching; prayer; preaching. This one is ordered
like so: testimony; reading of passage; chat about Balmoral; preaching; chat on
family worship; prayer. He has no fixed idea on how to order a sermon. It’s
like he got his methodology, not from a reputable Bible college, but from a
commercial for Bits N’ Bites: ‘every handful is whole new ballgame.’ When there
is no rational arrangement to guide an effort, the production will look like an
object created during a fit of madness. The sermon doesn’t even begin until
minute eighteen! Then, not only does nothing of consequence happen, but the
sermon lasts for nine minutes, at which time it is entirely abandoned to make
way for another chitchat! Now that should seem like madness to anyone who cares
for order. When there is no order, there is no flow, and therefore no reason to
proceed from one subject to another. This makes the pastor appear ridiculous.
For instance, after telling the story of Polycarp, he says, “This brings us
back to John chapter 20.” No it doesn’t. It brings us nowhere. He’s just
jarring into another disconnected segment: reaching for the next piece from his
bag of Bits N’ Bites. There is no order because no good sermon prep was done.
That’s what it comes down to. This pastor fails to show up for work, as it
were. He might as well be absent for all the good this sermon can do. Just look
at the nonsense that happens when a sermon has nothing to say: “I want to
connect an important dot for you: John was a man who made disciples.” Does
anyone in church need a dot like that connected? Who in the whole wide world,
except for a few jungle natives, needs that dot connected? This is what we mean
when we say that this sermon is about nothing. It is absurd enough to laugh at.
But we reprove ourselves for laughing. The pulpit is in a bad way! That’s no
laughing matter. The elemental cause of this disaster is whatever training
center this man was unleashed from. Do professors really tell their students to
go about any order at all in the construction and delivery of sermons? What are
they thinking, anyway, giving out licenses to preach to men who have no idea
how to command a pulpit? The professors, whoever they are, cannot be very fit
men themselves.
Conclusion.
There is some talk
here about the need to press into Christ and to make disciples. But what these
acts imply is never told. There is some talk, too, on the necessity of study.
But the only thing we get on that is the poor example Mr. Fox sets. What an
insult to be told to study by a pastor, who not only does not do it himself,
but who has no idea how! The people are told to go out and learn. But being
taught nothing about how that may be done, what will happen but some
disorganized aimless effort? When there is no teaching from the pulpit, how
will your disciples learn and make disciples? To call this sermon ‘believe and
grow’ is an insult to these very words. You would think, or even hope, that
some of the more mature saints in this church would rise up, raise a ruckus,
and get this man relieved from his charge. That would be the responsible,
merciful thing to do. A mature congregation would have him sit in the pew for
instruction purposes. Pulpit work has become a sideshow, and few persons
realize it. We are not required, you know, to be so gracious as to believe this
man was called by God to pulpit-speak. The Bible is not that gracious. We do
not have to exceed the Bible in grace. “A bishop then must be blameless…apt to
teach” (1 Timothy 3.2.) Mr. Fox may be a fine family man, a nice guy, and
charming to all, but the one thing he is not is the thing a bishop must be:
‘apt to teach.’ There must be some precious few souls in this church who are
being tortured by sermons like this one. To patiently endure without saying
something is a terrible sin to the pastor and to the body as a whole. If
someone is working, say, in the oil industry, but he’s not cutting the mustard,
then he gets told that he should move on and get into something his
capabilities and talents can handle. Why shrink so much from doing the same here?
A major qualification for the ministry is aptitude for teaching. The Bible
tells us so. The Bible should be obeyed, especially when it is most
uncomfortable to do so. There is some talk in this sermon about martyrdom.
Would this message encourage a saint to die for his faith? Would it show anyone
what the gospel is? A sermon called ‘believe and grow’ should accomplish both
of these things. It does nothing. Like when John was in the oil and Polycarp
was in the fire, ‘nothing happens.’ This pastor may be a saved man. But we will
raise a question just in case. If faith without works is dead, and he is
failing this badly at his greatest work, is his faith dead or alive? It is
easier to suppose him saved if we can leave out of consideration his
ministerial work. If we must consider it a work, then what shall be said about
his faith, for can his faith be proved by this work? If we accept that he has
not been truly called to do what he’s doing, then we at least might know his
Christianity by other fruits than ministerial. Moreover, we have a right to
know more about his faith than what he tells us in his testimony before we
believe it to be genuine. It’s not wrong to desire more than nothing. Listener,
go back and listen, please, to the beginning of this sermon. Listen close to
this man’s testimony. See if there is even one doctrine there; see if you can
detect a conversion there; see if you can call that talk a testimony of faith.
Go and listen, and you will not find any mention of repentance, faith,
justification, redemption, cross, or blood there; you will find nothing like
that in there at all. There is nothing there but a ride to church and a
divorce. Is he called by God to do what he is attempting but failing to do?
There is nothing to convince us that he is called, nothing in the content,
nothing in the spirit, nothing in the form, and nothing in the method by which
the form is discharged. Is he a saved man? We wish so. But there is nothing to
convince us of that in this sermon, not by the testimony, and not because of
any content or spirit. No good can be done for this man’s soul by being as nice
to him as he himself comes across. There is a time to be nice; but this is a
time to refrain from doing so. We must let honesty have its way once the
examination has yielded its deductions. No one should get upset when proofs on
calling and salvation are desired and asked of him. We should all be blessed to
receive queries that compel us to self-examination. If someone is upset on Mr.
Fox’s behalf, then that person should ask himself if it’s a good idea to
discourage someone from examining his present standing with God.
