THE BATTLE FOR SOULS
By Peter MastersFROM SWORD & TROWEL 2005 No
2 - from an address given at the School of Theology 2004
The battle for souls is a topic which should grip the minds and hearts of all
Christians, unless we have become horrifically cold and self-contented in spirit. The
question behind this article is: Do we reflect the martial language of evangelism in the New
Testament, seeing ourselves as being on a war footing for the souls of men and women?
The title could equally be: Do we have authentic Calvinism in the British Isles? Do we
resemble our forebears, especially those in times of reformation and awakening, or any
other period of strong church growth?
Tragically, it must be said that Calvinists in general today do not appear to
be engaged in a battle for souls. In reformed churches it is rare for distinctive, persuasive
evangelistic messages to be heard, and it is equally rare to find really serious labour to reach
neighbourhoods. The result of this has been a steady decline of congregations, so that now
panic has set in, with some reformed churches turning cap-in-hand to the ‘seeker-sensitive’
church promoters and saying - in effect - ‘Show us how to revive our churches. Show us
your new praise culture and your worship songs. Let us incorporate these into our reformed
hymnbooks and our worship.’
Well-known reformed figures are leading the way into a new world. For
years they have been ultra-Puritans, and suddenly they have become semi-charismatics.
The power of panic is remarkable.
In the following paragraphs we shall draw encouragement from a number of
Bible passages using the language of warfare as a figure for winning the lost to Christ. This,
we believe, is the missing factor in British Calvinism. In another article we shall consider
an outstanding example of the implementation of ‘war footing’ in a notable church of the
past.
Warfare is about militant advance; the prosecution of a vigorous,
unrelenting campaign to take territory. Lacking this driving determination, pivotal and
historic conflicts have been lost. In 1940, for example, the Italians came into the war on the
side of Germany. Mussolini spoke haughtily of initiating a ‘drive to the Nile’, and sent a
massive force of five heavily-equipped divisions to the border of Egypt, defended by British
and Indian troops. The Italian commander, Marshal Graziani, gave the order to this huge
force to move forward. The Allies, having little more than two divisions at their disposal,
were heavily outnumbered, while in the air the Italians had a five-to-one superiority over the
RAF.
General Richard O’Connor, the British commander, was puzzled when the
Italian army, having rolled forward 50 miles, suddenly stopped. Reconnaissance officers
crept forward and saw an astonishing sight through their binoculars. Hundreds of Italian
engineers and labourers were digging in and erecting long-term fortifications, even laying a
great pipeline for water. One lieutenant radioed back - ‘It looks as though they have settled
here for ever.’ The drive to the Nile had ground to a halt.
General O’Connor, at forty the youngest of the British generals holding
command at the time, was eager to strike, and moved quickly. Early one morning, as the sun
came up, the British and Indian forces attacked with maximum impact, finding all the
Italians in bed except the sentries and the cooks preparing breakfast. The battle lasted under
two days, Allied tanks and infantry prevailing with ease. More than 20,000 Italian soldiers
were taken prisoner, along with (as the war historians love to tell us) countless bottles of
wine and mountains of spaghetti.
What was the problem that halted the Italian offensive? It was their
commander, Marshal Graziani. He would not fight. He moved his enormous army forward,
vacillated, and dug in, and it cost him the day (and ultimately his entire army).
How like our British reformed constituency! We have churches throughout the
land, we have excellent equipment (the Word of God and the great doctrines of the faith),
we have an abundance of food (fine sermons preached in our pulpits), we have a superb
heritage of example (in our history), and we are certainly looking after our troops, but so
many of our churches are not moving. Where is the thirst for victory? Where is the
evangelistic endeavour? How similar British Calvinism is to a stationary army! And yet we
are supposed to be the ‘church militant’.
The warfare illustration has tremendous suggestive power for the stance and
vigour of Bible-believing churches, and we naturally want to know how prominent this
theme is in the Bible. After all, if it is set forth as a standard for us, we are bound to be
shaped by it.
The New Testament has a number of passages using martial language, both
for the work of the ministry in general and for evangelism in particular. 1 Cor
inthians 9.7, for example, employs battle language to describe ministers, saying,
‘Who goeth a warfare any time at his own charges?’ We know that the warfare here
includes soulwinning because Paul mentions planting a vineyard, an obvious figure for
evangelism.
In 2 Corinthians 5.18-20 and 6.4-10 Paul lists the
rigours which commend a person serving in the ministry of reconciliation, mentioning
various actions, and saying - ‘By the armour of righteousness on the right hand and on the
left.’ This refers to a Roman soldier with his shield in one hand and his attacking sword in
the other. Does this resemble our evangelistic stance today, as Calvinists?
In 2 Corinthians 10.3-5 the apostle uses very remarkable
language: ‘For though we walk in the flesh, we do not war after the flesh: (for the weapons
of our warfare are not carnal, but mighty through God to the pulling down of strong holds;)
. . . bringing into captivity every thought to the obedience of Christ.’ These words may
properly be applied to the believer’s battle for holiness, but they are intended to apply even
more to the battle for souls. (Paul is here defending himself against those who said he was
not an apostle, but to do this he mentions the great principles of militant evangelism to
which he was committed.)
The longest warfare passage in the epistles is in Ephesians 6,
beginning - ‘Put on the whole armour of God.’ Much of the armour is defensive, and
clearly represents the believer’s struggle against temptations, trials, and attacks that are
made on the Truth. However, the offensive sword, the Word of God, is also there, and Paul
proceeds to appeal for prayer that he may open his mouth boldly to make known the Gospel
as ‘an ambassador in bonds’.
We see in this passage the fourfold battle of the Christian church: the
battle for the Truth (to educate God’s people and to defend the faith); the battle
for holiness (‘having on the breastplate of righteousness’); the battle for
assurance (‘taking the shield of faith’ to ‘quench all the fiery darts of the wicked’);
and the battle for souls (having ‘your feet shod with the preparation of the
gospel of peace’). All these activities are described using the language of warfare.
In 1 Timothy 6.12 Paul says to Timothy: ‘Fight the good fight of
faith.’ Is he referring to personal holiness or evangelism? Obviously both, because Timothy
received a two-part charge in these epistles, firstly to promote sound doctrine, and secondly
to do the work of an evangelist. We are to see both ministries as a battle, and conduct them
with great effort.
The language of military action continues in 2 Timothy 2.3-4 -
‘Thou therefore endure hardness, as a good soldier of Jesus Christ. No man that warreth
entangleth himself with the affairs of this life; that he may please him who hath chosen him
to be a soldier.’ We know that Paul is thinking of evangelism as well as preaching to the
saints because he immediately speaks of enduring ‘all things for the elect’s sakes, that they
may also obtain the salvation which is in Christ Jesus’.
What could be more martial than the picture of Christ in Revelation
6.2: ‘And I saw, and behold a white horse: and he that sat on him had a bow; and a
crown was given unto him: and he went forth conquering, and to conquer.’ Here, surely, is
the battle for souls illustrated under the direction and leadership of Christ Himself.
We have mentioned that the Christian warfare is a fourfold battle: firstly for
the Truth, secondly for holiness, thirdly for assurance, and fourthly for souls. Strictly
speaking the last should be first in our minds, because it comes first in the great commission
of the Lord.
It must be acknowledged that the battle for Truth is taken very
seriously by most reformed preachers today. We stand for the Reformation, and for the great
17th-century reformed confessions, those wonderful statements of biblical doctrine.
Everywhere reformed pastors seek to teach the doctrines with sincerity and diligence.
The battle for holiness is also promoted by reformed preachers.
Godly living and the mortification of sin by the power and help of the Spirit is ably set forth
in numerous pulpits. Does not the reformed tradition have its Puritans with their wonderful
expertise in presenting the standards and methods of holiness? We are inevitably concerned
to apply these.
The battle for assurance received renewed attention from the
1950s, when Dr Martyn Lloyd-Jones and others focused minds once again on Satan’s
offensive to take away the believer’s joy and peace in believing, and how he should be
countered.
It is vital that these three aspects of the spiritual warfare continue to receive
constant and careful attention, but what about the battle for souls? Without
doubt, this is the one which has faltered and failed during our ‘watch’, and so much so that
there often appears to be no battle at all. We know well that there are ministers and workers
struggling against the trend, and their labours must be acknowledged and honoured, but
since the 1950s evangelism has been the weakest theatre of war for the reformed movement
in Britain.
Generally speaking, Calvinists no longer thrill to the language of Bishop
Ryle, who would speak of attacking the strongholds of Satan to rescue perishing souls, and
of hunting the fox to its lair. Martial language has become an embarrassment, and present-
day British Calvinism has become a lopsided, peculiar thing - an oddity when assessed in
the light of the past.
Dare I mention another military analogy, this time from the American Civil
War? At the outset, the Confederate army in the south had fairly bleak prospects against the
superior Union forces, but then there was the strange, strange case of General George
McClellan. It is said that if this general had speedily marched his huge army of 168,000
men south and taken Richmond (the Confederate States’ capital) there might have been an
early end to the war. McClellan was the man of the hour, a wealthy former railway chief
who exuded decision and authority. When they painted his picture he struck a perfect
Napoleonic stance, even with his hand in his coat. His manual on the art of war was
essential reading for officers.
In the winter of 1861-2 his was the best supplied and best fed army ever seen
in America, chickens and equipment in abundance arriving in wagons every hour. The
trouble was not the availability of recruits and provisions, but the celebrated general. He
just wouldn’t move. He fussed and dithered for months, while Abraham Lincoln paced his
Washington study in exasperation saying, ‘What have we got to do to get him to fight? Why
won’t he go forward?’
Despite a three-to-one majority of troop numbers, McClellan repeatedly
appealed for reinforcements and additional supplies, having convinced himself the enemy
were far more powerful than they were (or ever could have been). Eventually he did move
forward and mount attacks, but these were all too little too late, and much blood shed on
both sides accomplished nothing. As a result the noble general went further into his shell
until relieved of his command.
Is this not just like our reformed scene? As in the case of our earlier military
illustration, we are so well equipped, having the Word of God together with many able
preachers, and some people willing to operate Sunday Schools and visit homes, all the
necessary weapons of our warfare, yet little or nothing is attempted. We wonder if the
angels in Heaven look down and say, ‘What have we got to do to get these British reformed
churches to fight? They do not seem interested in the battle for souls.’
We rightly have our obligation and concern for the other theatres of war we
have listed, but why not for soulwinning? Surely when compared with the Reformers, the
Puritans, the preachers of the golden age of Baptist church expansion, the Victorian pulpit,
the likes of Whitefield, Carey, Spurgeon and so many others of the reformed school, we are
theological freaks! We have preachers who believe in the free offer of the Gospel, but
hardly ever proclaim it. They are mainline Calvinists in theory, but hyper-Calvinists in
methodology, for their level of Gospel activity is often no greater.
We have reformed churches with no children’s Sunday Schools, no active
community visitation, no stress on the necessity of a serving church membership, and no
evangelistic preaching. But this is not authentic, historic Calvinism. It is something
abnormal, and we need to recognise this. Today, maintaining the army takes up all the
attention of reformed preachers and writers, while the purpose of the army has
been all but forgotten. Endless reformed conferences and publications exclusively
emphasise other departments of the Christian warfare seemingly unaware that
modern British Calvinism has by this omission become disfigured and unsound.
Earlier in this article we asserted that war requires advance, and
a vigorous prosecution of that aim. If we may add a second observation, it is the need for an
intelligent strategy in warfare. In the battle for souls we need to apply our
minds to how we may reach our community, thinking about children, young people and
adults.
Arminian church-growth authors have many novel plans, most of which are
sadly misguided. Popular ideas today include the abandonment of challenging preaching,
the stifling of any mention of sin, the constant use of drama as the premier mode of
communication, and the emphasising of worldly entertainment-style music. They have
their strategies, and we are amazed to see these being favourably considered by some
reformed churches and fraternals. We repeat, having left out the battle for souls with
disastrous result, many reformed pastors now turn in panic to Arminian superficiality.
In our reformed circles, however, we often have no strategy or battle-plan at
all. In fact, some seem to have the idea that if we hold to the doctrines of grace, it is
unsavoury to have campaign objectives of any kind. Some say that the only strategy for
soulwinning is to promote holy living among believers, and a very beautiful phrase has
come into vogue, namely - ‘We believe in the evangelism of holy living.’ Of course we do,
but the way the phrase is often used really means, ‘We believe in doing nothing.’
Certainly, the gracious lives of Christian people will attract others, but this is
only a part of the battle for souls. Nevertheless, some churches have closed their Sunday
Schools and given up the arduous business of running weeknight classes for young people.
They have also abandoned the visiting of the community, and similar outreach activities,
making the evangelism of holy living an excuse for being at ease in Zion.
Some kind of outline plan or policy is vital for every church, and it is clearly
implied by the warfare analogy. Can we imagine a nation being at war without any plan or
objectives? There are no end of matters that demand a great deal of thinking. If our location
is poor for Sunday School work, perhaps we need to hire a school where the children live.
We may be thankful to God we have a good ‘base’ for the church, but if it is no good for the
children, we’ll begin a branch. This is warfare thinking, but it is seldom seen today. There
were numerous branches of churches and Sunday Schools years ago. Roland Hill at the old
Surrey Chapel (and he was a whole generation before Spurgeon) had thirteen branch
Sunday Schools because he did not think much of the location and social image of the
chapel for that purpose.
This is what the battle for souls is about. Fighting a war is an elaborately
planned affair involving an entire army with its divisions, brigades and battalions in
different layers, down to the companies and the platoons, and all have to be deployed in a
co-ordinated way. This is like old-time congregational labour in authentic Calvinistic
congregations. Does our church think in terms of reaching all levels of society, and using all
the abilities of the membership in that task? Pastors and elders must be very exercised about
the best way to move forward in the mission for souls, and never allow this holy mental
activity to stagnate.
A third rather obvious observation about the warfare analogy would be the
enormous amount of sacrificial activity implied. War demands utmost
commitment despite unreasonable conditions. If the command comes that a mission must
be undertaken at midnight, the troops may not decline on the grounds that it is bedtime.
The military analogy points to inconvenience, difficulty and hardship. Is this the ethos in
our churches? A pastor was telling me that a plea for pianists for a weeknight children’s
meeting fell on deaf ears, despite the presence of many able pianists in that church. One
after the other they declined because they had something else to do, or more likely, because
their comfortable routine would be disturbed.
As a boy I once had an English master (actually a Welshman) who, at
twenty-one, had been a junior officer in the First World War. He told of how he
volunteered at the outbreak of war with twenty or so other young men who had been at
university together. They had just started their careers, but felt they should serve their
country, knowing it might mean loss of life or limb. There is a very famous documentary
film clip of a boyish 2nd lieutenant nervously pacing to and fro in a trench, then waving his
pistol and leading his men ‘over the top’, out of the trench. Leading officers were so often
the first to be cut down by enemy fire, and my English teacher was the only one among his
friends to return from the war. They knew the risks, but they were ready to volunteer for
king and country. Yet here are we today, children of the eternal King, called to a spiritual
warfare, and yet so few will come forward to regular service in many churches. We have
lost sight of the effort and injury of the war analogy, with all its sacrifice, cancelled home
leave, and crawling about for days on frozen ground or in flooded trenches. The far more
comfortable rigours of regular Christian service are unthinkable for so many reformed
Christians.
I know a number of people who had to move to a new location and a new
church, where they observed there was no Sunday School. These were nice churches, with a
good ministry and dear people who gave the new members warm encouragement when they
wished to begin Sunday Schools. People said, ‘What you are doing is wonderful and we are
so grateful to you. We are with you in this.’ And no doubt they were faithful in prayer, but
(and this is a story I have heard from a number of people) no one ever lifted a finger to help
in a practical way.
Just recently I met a couple who went from the Tabernacle to a provincial
town nearly 25 years ago, and since then have faithfully operated a Sunday School in a
sizeable reformed church of good reputation. But after all this time, when they go away on
holiday, the School has to close because they have no helpers.
What is wrong in our churches, whereby, when the Lord gives them a
zealous couple who get down to work, they provide no challenge or training to others to
join with them in the battle for souls? Is this kind of spiritual indifference to the work of the
Gospel authentic Calvinism? Of course not. We should reflect the spirit of Acts
20.16, where the apostle Paul rushes to Jerusalem to take
advantage of the Day of Pentecost, and the greatly swollen number of people who could be
reached with the Gospel. Where is the hunger for conversion today, apart from the writing
of books about revival, when, so it is hoped, God will do all the work for us?
Sometimes the battle is forgotten because the enemy is considered to be
unbeatable. Yet another military example occurs to us from World War II. How tragic it
was when Britain lost Singapore in 1942! It was very difficult to defend Malaya and so
four British divisions retreated into Singapore, crossing the causeway and attempting to
destroy it behind them. Eventually the Japanese invaded Singapore, taking the British by
surprise by approaching from an unexpected direction. Within seven days General Percival
had surrendered the British and Commonwealth forces, losing 9,000 in the battle, and
sending into captivity 100,000 British and Commonwealth troops. Many authorities have
called this the most humiliating defeat in the history of the British Army. In addition,
25,000 Chinese males between 18 and 60 were summarily executed by the Japanese. The
British POWs went into abject slavery, most of them in Burma working on the railway.
Why did they surrender? It was because they thought the Japanese were far
stronger than was the case. Afterwards it emerged that Japanese supplies were stretched to
breaking point, so that they had only one or two weeks’ fighting in them. But they were
thought to be far stronger.
Poor General Percival got the blame. He was by all accounts a gentleman, who
had evidently wanted to follow Churchill’s order to fight to the last drop of blood, but he
was weak before his fellow commanders and subordinated himself to their desire to
surrender. It was all because they thought the enemy was unbeatable. Is this why we will
not fight in the battle for souls today?
Do we look at the walls of atheism, and at the power of the media and the
entertainment world, and retreat into our little shells thinking it cannot be done? So the fight
of faith today is fought in the arenas of truth, holiness, and the maintenance of assurance,
but not in the battle for souls. May I say it again gently - viewed in the light of our
forebears, we British Calvinists today are a lopsided, freakish entity. We are nothing like
the historical mainstream. We do not have the fervour or the urgency. We do not have the
soulwinning priority. If only our constituency would recognise this, perhaps we would begin
to move forward once again.
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