Haman's Gallows

by Phil Johnson

learned about the accusations against Tom Buck when they first surfaced months ago. Tom himself informed me on March 27 and sent me a copy of the packet someone had mailed anonymously to First Baptist Church of Lindale, Texas, where Tom Buck serves as Pastor. Copies were mailed to each of his elders' and deacons' homes (about 30 households). Tom wanted my opinion and counsel. On that same day, elders from Tom's church asked if they could discuss the matter with me in a conference call. So I read and digested the material thoroughly.
     There was no evidence that Pastor Buck was preaching sermons written by others. On the contrary, the evidence proved definitively that he was doing his own thorough study of the biblical text in the preparation of his sermons. But there were also examples of wording taken directly from commentaries without attribution. That's a practice I do not endorse—and when I've expressed opinions about it, I have candidly referred to it as "plagiarism," because it technically is.
     Nevertheless, it's small-time, non-criminal, traffic-ticket-level plagiarism, usually motivated by haste, carelessness, negligence, perhaps even laziness—not by a desire to steal others' work. The preacher who uses words he read in a commentary without attribution is not the moral equivalent of a horse thief. I don't condone or approve the practice, but unless it is being done on a large scale by someone who is using it to avoid his own study of the biblical text, it is ordinarily not a serious enough infraction to disqualify a teaching pastor or ruin his reputation and career.
     The packet of evidence against Pastor Buck was pretty weak, in my judgment, and the fact that it had been assembled and sent anonymously also made the motives and character of the incognito accusers suspect. I would be loath to join an obviously dishonest, underhanded campaign like that. Nevertheless, I tried to examine the evidence objectively.
     And to be clear: I hate plagiarism. I've been involved in Christian publishing for 50 years, and purposeful theft of another author's work is a transgression I do not view lightly. In publishing and in academia, deliberate plagiarism rises to the level of a capital crime. Students or people who publish works where they intentionally try to pass someone else's writing off as their own deserve whatever harsh consequences they receive.
     But, to reiterate, a pastor using words he got from a commentary is categorically different, because every careful expositor will glean ideas and insights from the best commentaries, and you don't want to front load a sermon with verbal footnotes.
     Still, pastors: Use your own words. Read commentaries while you're studying a biblical text. Read any and all commentaries that will help you think through the passage you are preaching from. But when you reach the process of preparing your preaching notes, set the commentaries aside. Using just your own brain and a sheet of paper for taking notes, organize all the good ideas you gleaned from your study into a logical flow reflecting your own thinking, and then write your sermon notes in your own words without leaning on the way someone else phrased the idea. The principle is simple: Do your own work. Say it in your own words. Don't just parrot the exact words you read in a commentary.

     And if you think a commentator has stated an idea in words so clear and brilliant that you could not possibly improve on the phrasing or say it differently, then go ahead and quote the commentary, but say whom you are quoting.
     I shared my concerns about the proper use of commentaries with Tom Buck, and I candidly told him he needed to adopt more careful methods in his preparation. He agreed and assured me he had already changed his study habits and was eliminating the use of any verbatim quotations without attribution. When I met with the Lindale elders and deacons, I was likewise completely candid about my concerns and convictions, and I offered to answer their questions regarding how they should handle their pastor's case, and how (if at all) they should respond to these anonymous mailings. The elders were receptive to my counsel and as far as I know implemented all the corrective measures I recommended.
     Tom asked if I thought he needed to make a public statement of confession and repentance to his congregation. I thought it would be good for him to do that, but it should come from his own heart and his own conscience, not from anyone's mandate.
     Tom did make such a statement. It was clear; it was candid; it was thorough; it was penitent. He described to his congregation what he had done, acknowledged the wrong in it, and outlined what he and the elders had done and would do to address the issue. In all of this, Tom Buck never pushed back, never made excuses, and never tried to argue that he wasn't doing anything he shouldn't. He embraced the criticism completely, admitted where he was wrong, and adjusted his approach immediately.
     The matter was thus settled as it should have been, in the context of the local church.
     Rather, it should have been settled, until someone started mailing out the accusatory packets some four months later, falsely claiming the Lindale elders had utterly failed "to deal with this public sin biblically." (The cover letter was full of plural first-person pronouns, making it clear that a group, not an individual, were the instigators in this campaign.)
      These letters were sent, it appears, to almost everyone who had ever been on the G3 speakers' list. I received one. It came to my old address and was forwarded by the postal service. The senders remained anonymous, but they fraudulently put return addresses on the packages to make it appear they were coming from someone affiliated with FBC Lindale. The envelope even bore a Texas postmark, but I knew immediately it didn't really come from FBC Lindale, because everyone there knew that I was already aware of the allegations and didn't need another copy of the packet.
     The fake return address also made it immediately obvious that whoever sent these packets was not motivated by a love for the truth or any other wholesome rationale. The entire charade was purely and simply an ugly, dishonest attempt by some anonymous group of miscreants to discredit Pastor Buck.
     The case had already been dealt with by FBC Lindale, so it didn't need to be broadcast to the wider public. But there is credible testimony that the scheme to make it as public as possible was hatched by someone in leadership at the board level both in Pray's Mill Baptist Church (Douglasville, GA) and in G3. Witnesses with firsthand knowledge say the packets were taken to Texas and mailed from there in an attempt to further conceal their origin.
     Now the whole affair is as public as they wanted it. And it won't go well for those who were building a gallows for Tom Buck.
     I don't know precisely who or how many men in leadership in those two organizations were involved in the plot to destroy Tom Buck. I'm not interested in trying to untangle a web of allegations and denials involving people who are willing to scandalize and discredit a fellow minister clandestinely. The rank dishonesty involved in such a strategy speaks for itself. It is sufficiently clear that men in leadership at both Pray's Mill and G3 were behind it. Indeed, members of both boards were privately informed of the charges and the evidence last week. They did not respond to the Lindale elders' request for a meeting.

One wonders how this itch to discredit or destroy their adversaries by anonymous dirty tricks crept into G3's DNA. This will be another scandal G3 did not need, and it is one they probably cannot survive.

     More significantly, they did not deny their involvement.
     The similarities between this episode and the issues that forced Josh Buice to step out of public ministry last year are too stark to ignore. One wonders how this itch to discredit or destroy their adversaries by anonymous dirty tricks crept into G3's DNA. This will be another scandal G3 did not need, and it is one they probably cannot survive. The organization frankly should not survive if anyone on the inside who knew about or participated in this plot remains in leadership. These are men who have refused to accept Josh Buice's expressions of repentance and want to dictate for him what his repentance should look and sound like. This case shows they are not qualified to make judgments like that.
     No one loved and promoted G3 with more enthusiasm than I did when the organization's focus was clear and singular. So it pains me to say this, but frankly, it is time for G3 to dissolve and go away.

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Music Appreciation

by Phil Johnson

This item is adapted and expanded from a post I made in June of 2005, the first week I began blogging.

ric Satie is one of Darlene's favorite composers. He called some of his work "furniture music"—music not to be listened to, but to be played as background. That's what most music has become these days, but it was a radical idea in Satie's day.

Now, don't tell Darlene this, but Satie was a supremely aberrant individual. Look up the French word for "eccentric." Instead of a definition, they could simply put Satie's picture there.

Satie was born in the French harbor town of Honfleur in 1866 and died in Paris in 1925 (just nine days before my dad was born). So we're coming up on the 100th anniversary of his death.

How weird was he?

You get a little glimpse from the titles he gave to some of his own compositions: "Chilled Pieces," "Vexations," "Drivelling Preludes (for a Dog)," "Dried up Embryos."

Satie was Frank Zappa at least 75 years before anyone ever heard of Frank Zappa.

He wrote humorous notations, drawings, and puns in the margins of many of his compositions, intended as private jokes between him and the performer. When he learned of instances where the jokes had been shared with the audience, he wrote, "To whom it may concern: I forbid anyone to read the text aloud during the performance. Ignorance of my instructions will bring my righteous indignation against the audacious culprit. No exceptions will be allowed."

Satie lived alone in a room in Arcueil, France for 27 years. No one but he ever entered that room. At his death, friends discovered an unbelievable hoard of personal memorabilia, including a large collection of umbrellas, drawings he had made, letters he had collected, and dozens of previously unpublished works. The manuscripts of his compositions were all stuffed in odd places—such as the pockets of his trademark grey velvet suits and behind the piano (which, as it turned out, was covered with junk and cobwebs, revealing that he never used it in composing).

My favorite Satie item is his description of a typical day:

See if you can make any sense of this fragment from Satie's pen, found in an article titled "Ce Que Je Suis" ("What I am"), in the French Journal, Revue musicale S.I.M., (15 April 1912), p. 69. He coins the word pyrophony, which could be very useful. But I'm not sure what he is saying:

Everyone will tell you that I am not a musician.* [* See: O. Séré, French Musicians of today, page 138.] It's fair. From the beginning of my career, I immediately ranked myself among the phonometrographers. My work is pure phonometrics. Whether we take the "Son of the Stars" or the "Pear-shaped pieces," "In Horse's clothing" or the "Sarabandes," we perceive that no musical idea presided over the creation of these works. It is scientific thought that dominates. Besides, I have more fun measuring a sound than I have hearing it. With the phonometer in my hand, I work happily and surely. What didn't I weigh or measure? Everything by Beethoven, everything by Verdi, etc. It's very curious. The first time I used a phonoscope, I examined a medium-sized B flat. I have, I assure you, never seen anything more repulsive. I called my servant to let him see it. At the phono-weigher an ordinary F-sharp, very common, reached 93 kilograms. It came from a very big tenor whose weight I took. Do you know the cleaning of sounds? It's pretty dirty. The spinning is cleaner; knowing how to classify them is very meticulous and requires a good view. Here we are in phonotechnics. As for the sound explosions, often so unpleasant, the cotton, fixed in the ears, attenuates them, for oneself, suitably. Here we are in the pyrophony. To write my "Cold Pieces," I used a kaleidophone-recorder. It took seven minutes. I called my servant to let him hear them. I think I can say that phonology is superior to music. It's more varied. The monetary return is greater. I owe him my fortune. In any case, with the motodynamophone, a poorly trained phonometer can easily note more sounds than the most skilful musician will do, at the same time, with the same effort. It is thanks to this that I have written so much. The future is therefore in philophony.

Erik Satie was a living example of the fact that even though sin has badly marred the image of God in man, the image is still there. We can see it clearly in the way fallen creatures, no matter how outré, are still capable of amazing creativity. I think our love for the beauty, humor, and artistry of creaturely creativity is also an expression of the imago Dei.

You'll be familiar with Satie's best-known work, "Gymnopédie No. 1." Enjoy:

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Martyn Lloyd-Jones on John Knox

Posted by Phil Johnson (ht: Mike Riccardi).

Click HERE to listen to this sermon excerpt from D. Martyn LLoyd-Jones.

hat was the sort of preaching you had from the Protestant Reformers. What kind of preaching? Prophetic preaching, not priestly preaching. What we have today, you know, is what I would call "priestly preaching"—very nice, very quiet, very beautiful, very ornate. Sentences turned beautifully; prepared carefully.

That's not prophetic preaching. No, no! What is needed is authority!

Do you think that John Knox could make Mary Queen of Scots tremble with some polished little essay? These men didn't write their sermons with an eye to publication in books. They were preaching to the congregation in front of them. They were anxious and desirous to do something, to effect something, to change people. It was authoritative. What was it? It was proclamation. It was declaration.

Is it surprising that the church is that she is today? We don't believe in preaching any longer, do we? You used to have long sermons here in Scotland. I'm told you don't like them now, and woe be unto the preacher that goes on beyond 20 minutes.

I was reading coming up in the train yesterday about the first principal of Emmanuel College in Cambridge. He lived just at the end of the 16th century. His name was Chatterton. He was preaching on one occasion, and after he preached for two hours, he stopped, and he apologized to the people. He said, "Please, forgive me. I've got beyond myself. I mustn't go on like this."

And the congregation shouted out, "For God's sake, go on!"

You know, I'm beginning to think that I shan't have preached until something like that happens to me. Prophetic, authoritative, proclamation, declaration. A preaching that didn't respect persons, that wasn't anxious to play to the gallery, or to the intellectuals wherever they may sit. And certainly not our modern idea of having a friendly discussion. Have you noticed it? Less and less preaching on the wireless programs. Discussions! "Let the young people say what they think."

How interesting! Let's win them by letting them speak, and we'll have a friendly chat and discussion. We'll show them that, after all, we are nice, decent fellows, there's nothing nasty about us, and we'll gain their confidence. They mustn't think that we're unlike them. So of course, if you're on the television, you start by producing your pipe and lighting it. You show you're like the people—one of them.

Was John Knox like one of the people? Was John Knox, a matey? Friendly? Nice chap you can have a discussion with?

Thank God he wasn't. Scotland would not be what she has been for four centuries if John Knox were that kind of man.

And can you imagine John Knox going to have tips and training as to how he should conduct and comport himself before the television cameras? To be nice and polite and friendly and gentlemanly? Thank God prophets are made of sterner stuff.

And Amos. Or Jeremiah. Or John the Baptist in the wilderness—camel hair shirt. A strange fellow. "A lunatic," they said. "He's mad!" And they went and listened to him because he was a curiosity. And there, as they listened, they were convicted.

Such a man was John Knox, with the fire of God in his bones and in his belly. And he preached as they all preached—with fire, and power. Alarming sermons; convicting sermons; humbling sermons; converting sermons. And the face of Scotland was changed. And your greatest epoch in your long history came to pass. There, as I see it, were the great and outstanding characteristics of these men.

What was the secret of it all?

Well, it wasn't the men, as I've been trying to say, great as they were. It was God. God in his sovereignty, raising his men, and God knows what he's doing. Look at the gifts he gave John Knox as a natural men. Look at the mind he gave to Calvin. Look at the training he gave to Calvin as a lawyer to prepare him for his great work. Look at Martin Luther, that volcano of a man. God, preparing his men in the different nations and in the different countries.

And of course, before he even produced them, he'd been preparing the way for them. Let's never forget Wycliffe—John Wycliffe. John Hus. Let's never forget the Waldensians and all the martyrs of those terrible Middle Ages. God was preparing the way, and then he sent his men at the right moment. And the mighty events followed.

. . . . . . . .

The God of John Knox is still there, and still the same. And thank God, Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today and forever.

Oh, that we might know the God of John Knox.

Full message: "Scottish Reformation" A sermon from D. Martyn Lloyd-Jones

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"God has not called us to impurity but to sanctification" (1 Thessalonians 4:7)

Posted by Phil Johnson

I'm often surprised and not a little shocked by the tone and flavor of some of the discourse on social media among people who self-identify as gospel-believing Christians. I'm not talking only about the annoying busybodies, false accusers, trash-talkers, and all-purpose haters. I'm thinking also of the people who routinely sprinkle their comments with obscene or profane language ("cuss words," as the idiom used to be known). They tend to be fiercely resistant to any criticism or correction of the practice. They think the casual use of salty language shows how "genuine," and "relatable" they are, and this somehow enhances the believability of their testimony. Wait. Did I say "tone"? In the evangelical districts of social media nowadays, if you try to correct a popular heresy or challenge some point in the new moral or political consensus, you'll likely be scolded about the inappropriateness of your "tone," no matter how carefully you express your concerns. But professing Christians commonly violate Ephesians 5:4 and Colossians 4:6 in the language they use, and most of their fellow believers don't seem to see anything seriously wrong with that tone. Unbelievers aren't genuinely impressed by the foul language, either. The subject matter of public conversations in evangelical forums is likewise often troubling for similar reasons. Professing Christians show a disturbing familiarity with the dark side of popular culture, and they talk about it—uncritically—with ease and enthusiasm. Our spiritual ancestors called that worldliness—a term hardly used anymore. Out of the same mouth proceedeth blessing and cursing—edification and debauchery. Suggest that these things ought not so to be (James 3:10), and you are certain to be labeled a legalist. Spurgeon's words in the following excerpt are germane to this issue. Here's what he had to say:

 

he followers of the early Reformers were distinguished by the sanctity of their lives. When they were about to hunt out the Waldenses, the French king, who had some of them in his dominions, sent a priest to see what they were like, and he, honest man as he was, came back to the king, and said, "As far as I could find, they seem to be much better Christians than we are. I am afraid they are heretics, but really they are so chaste, so honest, so upright, and so truly pious, that, though I hate heresy—I hope your majesty does not suspect me on that account—yet I would that all Catholics were as good as they are."

Now, this was what made the gospel victorious in those days—the stern integrity of those who received it, and thus it will be still. It cannot be otherwise.

But if you become worldly, if you members of this church are just the same as other men who have no grace and make no pretensions, what is the good of your profession? You are liars before God unless you live above the common life of the rest of mankind.

Oh! to get back to the simplicity of Christian manners! I cannot go into particulars, and ordain that this you shall do and that you shall avoid, but you know very well what that simplicity is, and were it carried out there is a great deal that is now practised amongst professors that would have at once to be given up.

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Charles Haddon Spurgeon, "Good Earnests of Great Success," in The Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit (London: Passmore & Alabaster, 1868), 14: 173.

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What Spurgeon Says Here Is Also Relevant to "Christian Nationalism"

posted by Phil Johnson

hen an enterprise begins in martyrdom, it is none the less likely to succeed; but when conquerors begin to preach the gospel to those they have conquered, it will not succeed; God will teach us that it is not by might.

All swords that have ever flashed from scabbards have not aided Christ a single grain. Mahommedans' religion might be sustained by scimitars, but Christians' religion must be sustained by love. The great crime of war can never promote the religion of peace. The battle, and the garment rolled in blood, are not a fitting prelude to "peace on earth; goodwill to men."

And I do firmly hold, that the slaughter of men, that bayonets, and swords, and guns, have never yet been, and never can be, promoters of the gospel. The gospel will proceed without them, but never through them. "Not by might." Now don't be befooled again, if you hear of the English conquering in China, don't go down on your knees and thank God for it, and say it's such a heavenly thing for the spread of the gospel—it just is not. Experience teaches you that; and if you look upon the map you will find I have stated only the truth, that where our arms have been victorious, the gospel has been hindered rather than not; so that where South Sea Islanders have bowed their knees and cast their idols to the bats, British Hindoos have kept their idols; and where Bechuanas and Bushmen have turned unto the Lord, British Kaffirs have not been converted; not perhaps because they were British, but because the very fact of the missionary being a Briton, put him above them, and weakened their influence.

Hush thy trump, O war; put away thy gaudy trappings and thy bloodstained drapery; if thou thinkest that the cannon with the cross upon it is really sanctified, and if thou imaginest that thy banner hath become holy, thou dreamest of a lie. God wanteth not thee to help his cause. "It is not by armies, nor by power, but by my Spirit, saith the Lord."

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Charles Haddon Spurgeon, "Independence of Christianity," in The New Park Street Pulpit (London: Passmore & Alabaster, 1857), 3:335.

More from Spurgeon on Christian Nationalism and Other Pragmatic Church-Growth Strategies

Posted by Phil Johnson

obody wonders that Mahometanism spread. After the Arab prophet had for a little while himself personally borne the brunt of persecution, he gathered to his side certain brave spirits who were ready to fight for him at all odds. You marvel not that the sharp arguments of scimitars made many converts.

Any religion will win assent when the alternative is conversion or instant death. Give a man a strong right hand and a sharp sabre, and he is a fit missionary of Mahomet's doctrine.

Our Saviour gave to his soldiers neither spears nor swords, but said, "Put up again thy sword into his place: for all they that take the sword shall perish with the sword." He asked no aid from governments, he disowned the temporal arm altogether as his ally. Had our Saviour been a State-churchman, and not, as he was, the grandest of nonconformists, it would have been said that under the wings of the State his church was fostered into power. If Cæsar had said, "I will gather thy children together as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings," it would not have been surprising if the brood of Christians had multiplied indefinitely.

But our Saviour sought no succour from potentates, and rested not upon an arm of flesh. The people would have made him a king, but he hid himself, for his kingdom was not of this world, therefore did not his servants fight.

Our Saviour as he used no force, so neither did he use any means which might enlist man's lower nature on his side. When I have heard of large congregations gathered together by the music of a fine choir, I have remembered that the same thing is done at the opera-house and the music-hall, and I have felt no joy. When we have heard of crowds enchanted by the sublime music of the pealing organ, I have seen in the fact rather a glorification of St. Cecilia than of Jesus Christ.

Our Lord trusted in no measure or degree to the charms of music for the establishing his throne. He has not given to his disciples the slightest intimation that they are to employ the attractions of the concert room to promote the kingdom of heaven. I find no rubric in Scripture commanding Paul to clothe himself in robes of blue, scarlet, or violet; neither do I find Peter commanded to wear a surplice, an alb, or a chasuble. The Holy Spirit has not cared even to hint at a surpliced choir, or at banners, processions, and processional hymns.

Now, if our Lord had arranged a religion of fine shows, and pompous ceremonies, and gorgeous architecture, and enchanting music, and bewitching incense, and the like, we could have comprehended its growth; but he is "a root out of a dry ground," for he owes nothing to any of these. Christianity has been infinitely hindered by the musical, the æsthetic, and the ceremonial devices of men, but it has never been advantaged by them, no, not a jot. The sensuous delights of sound and sight have always been enlisted on the side of error, but Christ has employed nobler and more spiritual agencies.

Things which fascinate the senses are left to be the chosen instruments of Antichrist, but the gospel, disdaining Saul's armour, goes forth in the natural simplicity of its own might, like David, with sling and stone. Our holy religion owes nothing whatever to any carnal means; so far as they are concerned, it is "a root out of a dry ground."

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Charles Haddon Spurgeon, "A Root out of a Dry Ground," in The Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit (London: Passmore & Alabaster, 1872), 18: 569-70.

A Word of Explanation

by Phil Johnson

ouTube and social media are full of AI-produced videos using John MacArthur's voice and image, making him say things that perhaps sound like something you might think he believed, but expressing opinions he never held and making statements he never made. There are dozens of these fake videos floating around, and I am asked about them almost daily.

My standard reply: "No, those are fake. If you want to be certain you are hearing something John MacArthur actually said; or if you are looking for a video or audio recording of John's that you can trust to be genuine, you'll find it at gty.org." If it doesn't come from gty.org or GraceChurch.org, I can't vouch for its authenticity.

Furthermore, any AI-produced recording that purports to express the views of John MacArthur is certainly fake.

Most of these are simply sensationalized mammon-grabbing click bait. They may not be maliciously expressing teachings or opinions contrary to what John actually taught, but they are created mainly for the purpose of increasing traffic and thereby generating ad revenue for their creators. They are virtually all produced anonymously or pseudonymously, and it is no easy task to get the traffic cops at YouTube or other social-media sites to take them down.

Some of the AI-generated videos of John might be produced for satirical or comedic purposes, but like the ones that are sheer click bait, they confuse unwitting readers and generate misunderstanding—and sometimes they spawn apocryphal tales and urban legends about John and what he taught.

A few years ago, the management team at Grace to You made this policy: We will never use AI to simulate the voice or appearance of John MacArthur, nor will we ever (even in jest) put words in his mouth that he has not said. That policy was strongly affirmed by John himself.

The policy was prompted by the fact that someone (not one of our staff members, but someone with some influence) had proposed making an app for smart devices that would offer AI-generated counseling and prayers for users in John MacArthur's voice.

John was never a fan of Siri or Alexa, and he certainly did not want to lend his face, voice, or personality to an AI-generated cyber-pastor or digital rabbi. The idea of an artificial John MacArthur saying fake prayers for people with real needs absolutely appalled him—perhaps even more than it appalled the rest of us.

That's why I'm not in favor of using AI to concoct quasi-theological debates between dead celebrities, either in standard language, Ebonics, pidgin english, Cockney rhyming slang, rap patois, or whatever. It's not merely that I'm a humorless boomer (true as that might be). It's because doing something in John MacArthur's name that we know with absolute certainty he would disapprove is no way to honor him.

It's not really funny, either, especially to those of us who knew and loved him.

I hope you understand, and I hope this is helpful.

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