Category Archives: church history

Review: John Knox and the Reformation

John Knox and the Reformation

D.M. Lloyd-Jones & Iain H. Murray

The Banner of Truth Trust: 2011

In an address given in Edinburgh in 1960, Martyn Lloyd-Jones said, “perhaps the greatest of all the lessons of the Protestant Reformation is that the way of recovery is always to go back, back to the primitive pattern, to the origin, to the norm and standard which are to be found alone in the New Testament.” That the speaker was guided by faithfulness to “the norm and standard” found in the New Testament is evident in his writings, which is why I love reading him and am delighted that his work is still published years after his death.

Lloyd-Jones’s biographer, Iain H. Murray, is another advocate of looking back, and is another whose writings I can’t resist. With the Banner of Truth’s recent release of John Knox and the Reformation, I had the privilege to read both men in one book.

This short but valuable title consists of three chapters. “Remembering the Reformation” and “John Knox: the Founder of Puritanism” are addresses that Lloyd-Jones gave in 1960 to commemorate the 400th anniversary of the Reformation in Scotland. The third chapter is Iain Murray’s “John Knox and ‘The Battle’,” which is a biographical sketch of Knox that concentrates on his efforts to reform the church in Scotland.

John Knox and the Reformation is published for the 500th anniversary of the birth of Knox (2014), but not out of a “purely antiquarian or historical motive.” As Lloyd-Jones says, “the times in which we are living are too urgent and too desperate for us to indulge a mere antiquarian spirit.” Rather, “we look at these men in order that we may learn from them, and imitate and emulate their example.” He supports his view with Hebrews 13:7: “Remember your leaders, those who spoke to you the word of God. Consider the outcome of their way of life, and imitate their faith.”

Though Knox was, and still is, an object of controversy, there’s no denying that God used him greatly. Murray writes: “The only true explanation of Knox’s preaching is in words he applied to others of his fellow countrymen, ‘God gave his Holy Spirit to simple men in great abundance.’” Of a sermon that Knox preached to discouraged Protestant forces after beaten by the French, one man said, “The voice of one man is able in one hour to put more life in us than five hundred trumpets continually blustering in our ears.”

But again, the aim of this book isn’t to teach us about Knox, but to help us to learn from Knox. Lloyd-Jones and Murray each spell out the lessons that we can glean and apply to our day, and we would be wise to take heed.

When I asked what I should read for spiritual growth, a pastor and mentor told me that other than the Bible, he benefitted most from the biographies of great Christians. I’ve found this to be true for myself, and especially true of Iain Murray’s works. John Knox and the Reformation is no exception.

I received a complimentary copy of this book from The Banner of Truth Trust in exchange for an honest review.

“Wildcat” Morrell, a “Tireless Foe of [Texas] Hardshellism”

This post is for my friends Dorothy and Lela—not because it applies to them, but because they like this kind of post; also my dad, with whom I’ve spent hours discussing this very thing, and who is the pastor of an East Texas hard-shell church.

I’ve been doing a little reading in Flowers and Fruits in the Wilderness by Z.N. “Wildcat” Morrell. Morrell was one of the first travelling Missionary Baptists in Texas, and quite a character: “One of his first Texas activities [after arriving from Tennessee] was to plan a bear hunt with the famed David Crockett.”

The preface tells us that “Morrell was a tireless foe of hardshellism, so prevalent in East Texas at the time.”

Another name for “hard-shell,” is Primitive Baptist. Many of the East Texas Primitive Baptists still proudly wear the name. I’ve told you before how that I grew up amongst these East Texas hard-shell churches. In his book, Morrell often mentions his contemporary Daniel Parker, who founded Pilgrim Primitive Baptist Church, which is one that I attended as a child.

Though Morrell was a “foe” of the hard-shells, he considered them brothers and seems to have spent a good deal of time with them. I may change my mind as I read more, but at this point it doesn’t seem like election or predestination is where he disagreed with them. It was their anti-missionary, hyper-Calvinist, antinomian tendencies that he didn’t like.

Morrell tells of one of his friends “making sarcastic hits at the missionaries and their folly in trying to do God’s work:”

“To this I could only reply, that we missionaries had one decided advantage. While the ‘iron jackets’ [apparently another name for hard-shell] boast of election and predestination, the missionaries are masters of the situation. ‘How is that?’ cries the anti-missionary. We reply, ‘You worship a God that saw the end from the beginning, but left out all the means leading to and accomplishing the end. We worship an all-wise God who ordained the means leading to the end, as well as the end itself; and he has ordained the foolishness of preaching to save them that believe, as a means in his own hands.’”

I like that. So am I a rank arminian?

God’s Almost Chosen Peoples by George C. Rable

God’s Almost Chosen Peoples: A Religious History of the American Civil War

By George C. Rable

The University of North Carolina Press: November, 2010

George C. Rable says that during the American Civil War, “Loyalty to the nation could not be separated from loyalty to God.” This was the case regardless of which “nation” one was part of. Both sides believed they were doing the Lord’s work. A lack of patriotism equaled a lack of faith, or even atheism. “One could be a good citizen without being a Christian, an Indiana Baptist association conceded, but one could not be a Christian without being a good citizen.” At the same time, in his address to the Georgia General Assembly, Confederate preacher Benjamin Palmer said: “Our cause is preeminently the cause of God himself, and every blow struck by us in defense of his supremacy.”

During church services, it was common to “confess” the sins of the nation, though these sins were mostly attributed to the other side. While the North pointed to slavery and rebellion as the cause of God’s wrath, the South blamed it on the Yankee’s “atheism” and oppression:

“Lincoln, like the Egyptian Pharaoh, had hardened his heart against eleven states that sought to leave the house of bondage.”

Preachers throughout the Union and Confederacy found no shortage of Old Testament stories to represent their plight: the Exodus, the division of the twelve tribes (used skillfully by both sides), Israel’s battles with the Philistines, the Southern David fighting the Northern Goliath (less popular after Union victories), and so on.

Rable shows how religion was even used to justify slavery. In a sermon preached in Savannah, Stephen Elliott called slavery a “divinely guarded system, planted by God, protected by God, and arranged for his own wise purposes.” Calls for abolition were clear displays of the godlessness of the North.

This assurance on the part of both sides that theirs was the righteous cause helped justify hatred. One Alabama preacher claimed a “deep Christian and inextinguishable hatred toward the demons of the north….it is doing God service to kill the diabolical wretches on the battlefield.” Horace Bushnell, a Congregationalist Minister from Connecticut, asked a soldier whom he met on the road, “Killed anybody yet?” When the officer was not sure, Bushnell replied, “Time you had, that’s what you went out for.”

Though Rable records a lot of rhetoric and hypocrisy, he also gives plenty evidence of true religion, both on the battlefield and at home. There were some ministers who refused to be political and continued to preach nothing but the Gospel, while their congregations served in whatever way they could. Some, such as the Catholic Sisters of Mercy, tirelessly rendered aid and showed love to soldiers from either side. And though the war hardened some, it had a sanctifying affect on others. One soldier wrote:

“There is something irresistible in the appeal which the Almighty makes, when He strikes from your side, in the twinkling of an eye, your friend and comrade.”

As mentioned above, others found the war not so sanctifying. When upbraided for swearing, one Baptist minister turned captain replied: “The Lord has given me a furlough until this damn war is over.”

Most, however, were never Christians to begin with. Rable says estimates suggest that no more than 25% of Union armies and around 1/3 of the Confederate forces were Christians. But who can number the faithful? One thing is sure: there was enough drinking, gambling, cursing, and dancing on both sides to keep the tract presses running and the missionaries praying.

Rable examines every aspect of religion during the Civil War, showing both the good and bad without apparent bias. And if his book lacks in any area, it’s not in the research; there are almost two hundred pages of bibliography and footnotes. This is a work that would be difficult to dispute, as we hear directly from those who were involved. Rable quotes letters, diaries, sermons, and speeches from soldiers, mothers, preachers, and nuns.

Whatever Rable’s religious background, he shows an excellent understanding of church history, theology, and denominational distinctions. He also displays a thorough familiarity with the Bible. We can trust that he knows what he’s talking about.

My difficulty with this otherwise great work is the repetition. Though there is a loose chronological progression, the writing is mostly made up of short anecdotes and quotes that, after a while, sound the same. In the first chapter we learn that both sides believed God was on their side, both saw their victories as favor and their defeats as judgment, both twisted Scripture to justify their cause, both looked for providence in every blink of a gnat. And, though illustrated in different ways each time, we hear the same themes throughout each chapter. But Rable throws in enough new material and interesting quotes to keep us reading; in the end we’re glad that we did.

God’s Almost Chosen Peoples will be most enjoyable to history lovers, and is essential for those who have an interest in the American Civil War. But it will also be valuable to students of religion, as it provides an in-depth look at the state of religion during the most difficult period in American history.

I received a complimentary review copy of this book from The University of North Carolina Press.

Review: The Theology of B.B. Warfield by Fred Zaspel

The Theology of B.B. Warfield: A Systematic Summary

Fred G. Zaspel

Crossway: 2010

In his preface to The Theology of B.B. Warfield, Fred Zaspel says that his purpose “is not to critique or evaluate but to clarify the views Warfield actually held.” Does he do that?  I say that he does, and it will take a really big book to show otherwise. We might repeat the charge that Warfield’s only interest was to defend inerrancy, or that his theology was disjointed, or that he was a convinced Darwinian before we read Zaspel’s work, but we would have to be sloppy—or stubborn—readers  to say so after.

At nineteen, Benjamin Warfield graduated first in his class from Princeton University. After further education, he spent time preaching in Presbyterian churches and teaching at Western Theological Seminary before he began his career at Princeton, where he taught from 1887 to 1921. Warfield is known as one of the last of the great Princeton Theologians, “a towering figure in the counterattack against liberalism.” Even those who disagree with his theology say that he “had the finest mind ever to teach at Princeton Theological Seminary.”

J. Gresham Machen, one of Warfield’s colleagues, said that Warfield “has done about as much work as ten ordinary men.” That’s hard to deny when we consider that Warfield wrote “more than 40 books and booklets, nearly seven hundred periodical articles, more than a thousand book reviews,” and so on. That’s too much for most of us to survey, but no need to worry, Fred Zaspel has done the work for us. Besides the above, Zaspel gleaned from Warfield’s unpublished manuscripts, sermon notes, lecture notes, and even Warfield’s student’s class notes. There’s a heap of research packed into these 600 pages, and there are thirteen pages of bibliography and innumerable footnotes to prove it.

Warfield was an apologist. In his day, nearly every historic Christian doctrine was under attack. This he could not ignore: “To be indifferent to doctrine is thus but another way of saying we are indifferent to Christianity.” Most of his work, therefore, is a response to what he saw as a challenge to the gospel, which is why he is distinguished as “the polemic theologian.”

Warfield is best known for his defense of the inspiration and inerrancy of Scripture. These doctrines, Zaspel writes, “were the issues of Warfield’s day.” Warfield saw, rightly, that “Apart from inspiration there is no reference point and therefore no well-grounded reason for the Christian hope or life. Without an inspired Bible the ground for any of Christianity’s teachings is lost.” Since Warfield published over 1,500 pages on the subject, it is only right that Zaspel spends a considerable amount of time on it, too.  But the doctrine of Scripture wasn’t Warfield’s only interest. According to Zaspel, it wasn’t even his primary interest:

“The person of Christ and his work clearly topped the list of Warfield’s many interests as measured by his literary output and preaching….For Warfield, to maintain vigorously and carefully the doctrine of Christ set forth in Scripture is to preserve Christianity itself….Without question, in the person and work of Christ …we have reached the heart of Benjamin Warfield.”

The scope of Warfield’s work is vast. “The theological labors of B.B. Warfield touch virtually every department of biblical and theological studies.” We can say the same for Zaspel’s book.

Zaspel writes for the serious student, so we can’t fault him for using scholarly language. Most readers will benefit from a dictionary; I did, and I was happy to learn that “piacular” means “expiatory.” But an English dictionary will only get you so far. Some of the questions that Zaspel works through revolve around the meaning and use of Greek words. These sections of the book, though few, give the non-Greek speaking audience trouble.  Zaspel is also repetitive, which adds to the bulk of this already not so slim volume, but that will only be apparent to those who read straight through. When viewed as a reference, the repetition is probably necessary. Overall, Zaspel’s book is accessible to anyone with a serious interest in Warfield or theology. It is well written, well-edited, and well worth both the money and effort. It’s hard to imagine anyone ever writing a more definitive work on this great theologian.

I received a complimentary review copy of this book from Crossway.

Traveling Preachers and Once-a-month Primitive Baptists

* Update (8-29-2010): In my post below, I go from talking about my great, great-grandfather to talking about the parents and grandparents of Jonah Murphy. I left out the fact that Jonah Murphy and the great, great-grandfather I mention are the same.

Once upon a time, churches were scattered and preachers were few. Those few did a lot of traveling. And many of those churches that had to share the traveling preachers met only once a month out of necessity.

Preachers traveled, not by car or plane, but by horseback, wagon, or walking—often very long distances. For some in-depth reading about a horseback missionary, read Jonathan Edward’s excellent biography of David Brainerd.

When these road-weary servants reached their appointed destination, they boarded with members of the church. The homes of those who regularly hosted preachers might have had “prophet’s quarters.” Otherwise, the “prophet” slept wherever he could. My great, great-grandfather, who was the pastor of Leading Creek Primitive Baptist Church in Randolph County, West Virginia, was accustomed to “putting up” preachers. My great-grandmother used to tell me stories of having a house full of preachers. Apparently, Jonah Murphy’s father and grandfather did the same. I found this mention of Jonah’s grandfather recorded in The Life and Travels of William Conrad from 1871:

We reached Elder David P. Murphy’s in Randolph County near the meeting-house of Leading Creek Church, rested a little, after which we reached the meeting-house in full-time. The meeting opened at the hour appointed, and I being a stranger, they put me forward first that morning to preach to quite a large congregation, who gave me their full attention while I struggled to publish salvation through a crucified and risen Jesus to my dying fellow-men, forgetting wife and family, brethren and sisters, with the friends and all besides whom I left behind in Old Kentucky. I truly felt it was good to be at Leading Creek Church of Professed Old Baptists.
 

 

 

Mr. Conrad goes on to describe his entire weekend at the home of my ancestors, even mentioning the “young” preacher, Elder James Murphy, who was “quite a hopeful gift in the ministry of God’s Word.” James Murphy would have been my great, great, great-grandfather. Is there a shorter way to say that?

We then, soon as we breakfasted…made our way, halting but a few minutes at Elder Murphy’s, and then bid the old brother and as many of the family as were present farewell, for aught we knew, to meet no more in this sorrowful vale where we dwell.

Though things have changed, some Primitive Baptist churches still meet once a month for various reasons. While I was growing up and there were still a lot of “hard-shell” preachers living among our group of churches, the main reason for meeting only once a month was because “that’s how it’s always been.” Tradition dies hard with the Primitive Baptists; perhaps that’s why they call themselves hard shells.

A closely related reason is that Primitive Baptists are very careful to maintain their differences from other Baptists. Most hard shells don’t celebrate those things that they have in common with other churches. Instead, they go to great lengths to emphasize differences. Major uproars are caused when it’s even hinted at that one may start a Sunday morning Bible study (don’t dare call it a Sunday school class!), or that communion might take place without foot washing, or that a church might support a missionary. To meet every weekend would be too much of a move toward other Baptists, and one more dangerous step toward arminianism.

But, now that those churches from my past have dwindled, and most of the pastors and preachers have died (and not been replaced), it seems that they have arrived back to their original, more practical reason for meeting once a month. There aren’t enough preachers to go around. My dad, for instance, is the pastor of one of these once-a-month churches. He has an almost 500 mile round trip when he goes to preach there each 3rd Sunday. It would be difficult for him to make the trip every weekend, and the preachers that live closer already have full schedules. Besides, that church has only met once a month for decades. Why change now?

Review: The Church History ABC’s

The Church History ABC’s: Augustine and twenty-five other heroes of the Faith

 Stephen J. Nichols and Ned Bustard

 Crossway: 2010

“E is for eggs, elephants, and Jonathan Edwards.” How did I miss that when I learned the alphabet? Alas, public education. But now, thanks to The Church History ABCs, a new book by Stephen J. Nichols and Ned Bustard, the breakdown in my education has been corrected.

From Augustine to Zwingli, Nichols and Bustard give children a new way to learn the alphabet, while teaching church history along the way. Each page features a different historical character. The sketches are written in first person, giving the book a more personal tone, and include the most important (or most interesting) details of the subject’s life in a fun way: “Hi. Let’s get one thing straight, my name is Hippolytus, not hippopotamus.”

Though the book is intended to be a church history primer, it also teaches a few life lessons for the more pragmatic reader. For instance, after Martin Luther mentions his hammering “a piece of paper to the church door at Wittenburg,” he gives the following advice: “Now don’t try that at your church. People don’t like that.”

Ned Bustard’s artwork, a collage of illustrations and photos, will hold the children’s’ interest while making mom and dad laugh. John Wesley, for instance, wears a button that says, “Almost Perfect,” and Charles Spurgeon stands on a cigar box to deliver his sermon. Lest we miss the significance of the details, there is additional information about each character for parents in the back of the book. We are told there that the Wesley brothers “both believed in perfectionism, or as they put it, ‘love perfected,’ ” and so the button makes sense.

The book is intended for children ages 3 to 6. I happen to have a three-year-old and a six-year-old. Other than being interested in the pictures, the younger lost interest, as the information is still too advanced for her. The older, however, seemed very interested and asked a lot of questions, which, of course, is the goal. I suspect that children much older than six would enjoy and benefit from this book; I know that I did. We will use this book often, as it is full of important information that is presented in an enjoyable way, and I am happy to recommend it. Thanks to the authors for applying their knowledge and talent to the important task of teaching children.

I received a review copy of this book from Crossway.

The Forgotten Spurgeon by Iain Murray

The Forgotten Spurgeon

Iain Murray

Banner of Truth

Charles Spurgeon is one of the most quoted preachers of the past. Thousands still read his sermons and writings. Yet few, according to Iain Murray, remember Spurgeon’s theology. And even fewer remember his willingness to defend it. The Forgotten Spurgeon is not a normal biography. Instead, Murray’s book focuses on the three major controversies of Spurgeon’s ministry: his stand for historic Calvinism while at New Park Street in the 1850s, his involvement in the baptismal regeneration debate of 1864, and the Down-Grade controversy of 1887-1891.

Spurgeon’s biographers make special note of his popularity while at New Park Street Baptist. Hundreds were turned away each Sunday as the building overflowed with eager listeners. But the doctrine that Spurgeon preached, and the persecution and criticism that he endured because of it, is seldom mentioned. Spurgeon’s Calvinism was a favorite target of the public, news media, and even other pastors. This continued, in fact, throughout his entire ministry. He often felt alone in his defense of what he considered the only true gospel. Others also saw him as standing alone. One wrote: “[Spurgeon] was out of step with everyone else, because John Calvin’s ghost ‘rode him like a nightmare.’ ” The prevailing opinion, however, did nothing to modify Spurgeon’s defense of the gospel. On one hand he opposed the hyper-Calvinist belief that the gospel should only be preached to the elect. On the other hand, he saw Arminianism as destroying the whole system of theology, promoting superficiality and false assurance, and downplaying true conversion. To Spurgeon, this was more than a question of non-essentials.

The second controversy Murray deals with is the baptismal regeneration debate of 1864. The church of England was moving in a direction that evangelicals considered unacceptable. Much debate centered on questions concerning the use and meaning of the Book of Common Prayer. Spurgeon took the prayer book as a whole to task, arguing that it had no scriptural authority. But his main protest was against the Anglican’s growing acceptance of the doctrine of baptismal regeneration. To men like Spurgeon and the Anglican Bishop J.C. Ryle, this signified a “returning to Rome.”

The Down-Grade controversy lasted from 1887 until Spurgeon’s death in 1891. As higher criticism gained popularity among Protestants, a disregard for Scriptural authority and denial of Scriptural inspiration also grew, especially within the Baptist churches. Spurgeon’s main question now was whether believers should associate with those who advance such error. His conclusion? “Fellowship with known and vital error is participation in sin.” In 1887, Spurgeon withdrew from the Baptist Union. Rather than influencing any of his contemporaries, Spurgeon received a “vote of censure” from the Baptist council. It was this controversy in which Spurgeon was most alone, and in which he drew the most criticism. Regarding it, he remarked to a friend that “The fight is killing me.” He died a few months later.

Spurgeon had no desire to be divisive or controversial. He longed, instead, for the day when all believers could worship in unity. His willingness to take a strong stand against error came from “a spirit of compassion towards those who, not only in his own generation, but in ages to come, might be fatally deceived in receiving a gospel which is not a gospel. (Gal. 1:7).” He leaves us with a question that remains applicable today: “Shall truth be sold to keep up a wider fellowship?”

The Forgotten Spurgeon is terrific, though it isn’t an easy book. Murray takes us deep into the finer points of Spurgeon’s theology. For those interested in more than Spurgeon’s methods or personality, and for those who enjoy topics such as vicarious atonement, propitiation, or scriptural inspiration, I highly recommend it. Not only does it teach us about Spurgeon’s deepest convictions, but through his resolution, it encourages us to take a stand for the truth.

And the Pilgrim Church Story Continues: A Comanche War Chief’s Ties to the Primitive Baptists

Quanah Parker never lost a battle to the white men.

Daniel Parker led a small group to Texas to establish Pilgrim Primitive Baptist church. Elder Parker’s nine year old niece, Cynthia Ann Parker, and her parents, Silas and Lucy Parker, were among the group.

The Parkers started their church, and they established and settled at Fort Parker (near present-day Groesbeck, Texas).

May 19, 1836, was an important day in Texas history.  A war party of around 500 Comanche Indians raided Fort Parker. Many of the Parkers were killed, but Cynthia Ann was taken captive. The Comanches took her and her dog to the uninhabited West Texas plains, hundreds of miles from Fort Parker. Cynthia Ann lived with the Comanches for the next 25 years and married Chief Peta Nocona. Together they had three children.

In 1860, Chief Nocona led a raid in Parker County (where we currently go to church), and then headed back for the plains. Sam Houston, then governor of Texas, ordered Texas Ranger Captain Sul Ross to pursue. The Rangers met Nocona and his party in present-day Foard County. What then took place is now called the Battle of Pease River.

After a fierce fight, the Comanches fled. The facts aren’t clear after this point (assuming that they are up to this point). Was Chief Nocona killed? Sul Ross claimed to have ordered his execution after taking him captive. Nocona’s son (Quanah Parker), however, says that he escaped and died of illness years later. I believe Quanah. One thing is certain: Cynthia Ann and her infant daughter were taken by the white men, or “rescued,” as the Sul Ross party claimed.

The Rangers noticed that their captive had blue eyes, though she didn’t seem to understand English. After a long period of questioning, she patted her breast and said, “Me Cynthia Ann.” Against her will, she and her daughter were forced to return to her white relatives in Weatherford. Cynthia Ann’s daughter, Prairie Flower, died of illness. Cynthia Ann, grieving over her husband and children, died a few years later.

Two of Cynthia Ann’s sons escaped the battle of Pease River. One was Quanah Parker. Quanah became the last chief of the fierce Quahadi (Antelope eater) band of Comanches. During the late 1800’s, when many of the Indians were giving up and moving onto reservations, Parker and his band refused to quit. Along with groups of Kiowa, Cheyennes, and others, Quanah fought the Texans at famous battles like the battle of Adobe Walls. You might remember the Adobe Walls from Lonesome Dove.

When Quanah finally surrendered (without ever losing a battle), he moved into a house, adopted many of the white ways, and even became involved in politics, becoming friends with the likes of Charles Goodnight and Theodore Roosevelt. He died in 1911 and is buried at Fort Sill, Oklahoma.

A few years ago my wife and I lived in Motley County (Matador), Texas. Motley County lies in the plains of West Texas, and has changed very little (other than fences) since the Comanches roamed the hills. (The Comanches supposedly brought Cynthia Ann to Motley County after their raid on Fort Parker.) Mary Mason was our neighbor while we lived there. Mrs. Mason was 93 years old with a terrific mind. I loved visiting her and hearing her stories. Her father had been one of the first settlers in Motley County, a member of the Texas legislature, and a friend of Quanah Parker.

I said in the last post that it was easy for a boy to imagine that only a few generations had passed since Daniel Parker came to Texas from Illinois in his covered wagon. But as I sit and type this on a computer in what was Indian Territory just 150 years ago (70 miles west of Parker County), it’s hard to believe how true that is.

My Church had an Outhouse (and I’m Only 35)

 While writing the post about Pilgrim Church last week, I was tempted to go in several different directions. I’ll explore some of those different directions today.

In that post I included a picture of the replica of the original log cabin church, which sits 50 or so yards from the “new” church. The new church was, I believe, built in the 1920’s or 30’s, and is not much fancier than the cabin.

The replica is a log cabin with dirt floors. The pews are simple split logs, flat-side up, with four legs. Someone once told me that these pews came from the original church. Given the humidity in East Texas, it’s hard to imagine anything wooden lasting 170 years, but I believed it then. The pulpit was a simple wooden podium, which was about to fall down twenty years ago. The state of Texas maintains the site, so there’s probably a new one by now. And, of course, there is a fireplace for heat in the winter. As I hinted at before, this building provided a great place for my sister and me to play.

The new church is made of bricks and has a wooden floor. There’s electricity, but I think it was an after-thought. The front of the church has a large door, and there are two doors at the back—one on either side of the pulpit. Both sides of the church are lined with windows. The doors, windows, and a few fifty-year-old ceiling fans cool the church in the summer. There is not, nor ever was, nor ever will be, plumbing in the church. So yes, even though I am only (almost) 35, I have used an outhouse.

When we first started going to Pilgrim, the outhouses we used were probably those built when the “new” church was built, if not those built by Daniel Parker himself. I liked them because they looked just like the ones on Little House on the Prairie. Because we had to go down an overgrown trail through the woods, and because they were a favorite hang-out for Daddy Long-legs, my mother and little sister did not like them. But, alas, everything changes. When I was about 10, the soft, modern, spoiled men of our church thought that we needed new outhouses. These were a little larger, and the men built them with plywood—a product that wasn’t available when Daniel Parker built the predecessors. This ruined the Little House on the Prairie look.

I’ve described what these services were like when I wrote about another Primitive Baptist Church. I also described what the meals were like. As for the people, they were simple, old-fashioned, poor country people, much like you still find in rural areas in the south. When we were at Pilgrim, it was easy, especially for a boy, to imagine that only a few generations had passed since Daniel Parker had started the church in the 1830’s.

I should mention that, according to Texas History, Pilgrim Church was the first non-Catholic church in Texas territory (Texas was not a state in 1833). And although the founder, Daniel Parker, held some strange views, the doctrines of grace have been preached at Pilgrim for over 170 years.

The White Horse King: The Life of Alfred the Great, by Benjamin Merkle

Benjamin Merkle’s The White Horse King is a fast moving biography of Alfred the Great.

Danish Vikings terrorized Europe during the ninth century. They preferred targets that offered the least resistance and the most loot. The island of Britain was ideal. By the time Alfred became king of Anglo-Saxon Wessex in south west Britain, most of the island was conquered and under Viking rule.

The White Horse King tells how Alfred the Great defended Wessex. Fortified towns, strategically planned roads, and a new system to ensure a continuous army were all developed. But Alfred didn’t stop at that. He believed that wisdom and piety in his noblemen, soldiers, and citizens were essential to freedom. Scholars were hired, Christian writings were translated, books were distributed, and rewards were given to those who made progress. These efforts led to a “literary renaissance” and a transformation of worship and daily life.

With stories of Viking longboats moving up river to an unsuspecting village and detailed accounts of fierce battles where “spears cracked, shields split,” and “axes crashed down, cleaving helm and skull,” The White Horse King is hard to put down. Like most good biographies, the book is inspiring. It is also a great lesson in the history of England.

At times the author is repetitive, but that never kept me from eagerly turning the page. Detailed descriptions of gruesome violence may bother some readers; my wife asked me to stop telling the stories. But the author only included these when necessary, and there are relatively few. I learned much from the White Horse King, and I loved reading it. If you like history and biography, you will too.

Benjamin Merkle is a Fellow of theology and classical languages at Saint Andrews College and a contributing editor to Credenda/Agenda.

I received this book through the Thomas Nelson Book Review Blogger Program.