John Stott, in his book, The Cross of Christ, briefly mentions the role of the image of a fish in early Christianity:

Only the initiated would know, and nobody else could guess, that icthys ('fish') was an acronym for Iesus Christos Theou Huios Sotēr ('Jesus Christ, Son of God, Saviour'). But it did not remain the Christian sign, doubtless because the association between Jesus and a fish was purely acronymic (a fortuitous arrangement of letters) and had no visual significance.

Clearly Stott never had the privilege of driving around 21st century America.

There is a guest post on the Faith and Theology blog today remembering John Stott, which focuses on Stott's strong belief that Christians must be engaged with the world around them. Stott would argue that Christians should follow Christ's call to be salt and light, seeking societal transformation in a world God loves.

The author of the post wonders why other evangelicals don't feel the same way. He points to something Tim Challies once wrote as a conclusion to a book review:

There is a time and a place for humanitarian work, no doubt. Christians can carry out great ministries serving the poor and the oppressed and in so doing can have remarkable opportunities to share the gospel. And yet still the history of Christianity shows that when Christians do this, the gospel quickly becomes secondary and the work itself becomes the gospel. I still see the Bible primarily emphasizing charity given to other believers; when I look at Acts and the epistles, this is what I see most—Christians helping other Christians as a sign of love and fraternity. Now of course there will be some who engage in humanitarian work outside the context of the local church, but it seems to me that the closer we come to making this a necessary part of the Christian mission, the more likely we are to see the gospel diminish.

I have two reasons for bringing this up. First, the author is right to critique evangelicalism's general avoidance of the calling Stott believed we all had. But second, he commits the error that has been committed by far too many people ever since that blasted TIME article came out a couple of years ago – he calls Challies a Neocalvinist.

Challies is not a neocalvinist. He is a New Calvinist. A Neocalvinist would never say what Challies has said above. 

Stop confusing the two!

John Stott once said, "One of the major reasons people reject the Gospel today is not because they perceive it to be false but because they perceive it to be trivial." Because of that, he founded the London Institute for Contemporary Christianity in 1982 to be a resource to help Christians grow in their understanding of what it means for Christ to be Lord over all. The mission of LICC, according to their website, is "to envision and equip Christians and their churches for whole-life missionary discipleship in the world. We seek to serve them with biblical frameworks, practical resources, training and models so that they flourish as followers of Jesus and grow as whole-life disciplemaking communities."

Here is Mark Greene, the institute's director, talking a bit more about their mission:

This is very encouraging. It's always exciting when Christians really understand that Christ's Lordship extends over all of life.

(HT: Bob Robinson)

We have just begun to read John Stott's little book, The Living Church, together as a staff team at our church. In the first chapter, he writes about some of the defining marks of the early church as recorded in Acts 2:42-47, one of which was a strong committment to evangelism.

The fervor the early church manifested in fulfilling its mission to be witnesses to the gospel of Jesus Christ is no secret, and Stott highlights the fact that the Lord blessed their efforts by "adding to their number daily those who were being saved" (Acts 2:47). He notes that "those early Christians did not regard evangelism as an occasional activity...[but] their witness was as continuous as their worship" (32).

Part of the reason they devoted themselves wholeheartedly to this task was because they had this eager expectation that the Spirit was actively at work drawing people to himself and believed that they were his instruments to gather the people of God from every nation, tribe, and language. They were animated by the conviction that if they faithfully proclaimed the gospel of Jesus Christ, they would see their efforts bearing fruit by the power of the Spirit.

In the West as we continue to witness the rapid decline of Christianity, it is easy to lose hope in ever seeing this kind of result in our day. And our disillusionment plays a part in leading us to neglect our call to bear witness to the risen Lord. We also lose confidence in work of the Spirit, and in some instances, may even be tempted to think that the Spirit has left the church. As a result, we turn to devising all kinds of plans and methods and programs to get people to come into our churches, and hope that in the process, the Spirit comes back.

But the Spirit already came at Pentecost, and the reality is that he has not left the church! We can rejoice in this truth, and root ourselves in the knowledge that he is always with us. Jesus promised in Matthew 16:18 that he will build his church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it. We are living in a time where most of his work to build his church seems to be going on in other parts of the world, but the staggering growth of the church around the world alone should remind us how amazing the work of the Spirit can be.

Let us recover the eager expectation that characterized the early church and pray that God would work powerfully through us to gather his people to himself.

John Stott, in discussing the necessity of pastors to be sincere in what they preach, cites a story in his book, Between Two Worlds, about the 18th century philosopher, David Hume:

A friend once met [Hume] hurrying along a London street and asked him where he was going. Hume replied that he was going to hear George Whitefield preach. 'But surely,' his friend asked in astonishment, 'you don't believe what Whitefield preaches, do you?' 'No, I don't,' answered Hume, 'but he does.' (269-270)

Whitefield had a transparent sincerity that attracted Hume. So it must be with us. John Poulton has said, "The most effective preaching comes from those who embody the things they are saying. They are the message."

That couldn't be more true.

John Stott is well-known for his advocacy of expository preaching. In his book, Between Two Worlds, he says that to "expound Scripture is to bring out of the text what is there and expose it to view. The expositor prizes open what appears to be closed, makes plain what is obscure, unravels what is knotted, and unfolds what is tightly packed." The intent of such preaching is nothing more than setting forth the truth of Scripture in a manner that is plain – and excuse the buzzwords  – relevant and applicable.

Stott goes on in his book to set out what he feels are some of the strongest arguments for expository preaching, one of which is the recognition that exposition imposes limits upon the preacher. He writes,

It restricts us to the scriptural text, since expository preaching is biblical preaching. We are not expounding a passage from either secular literature or a political speech or even a religious book, let alone our own opinions. No, our text is invariably taken from God's Word. The very first qualification of expositors is the recognition that we are guardians of a sacred 'deposit' of truth, 'trustees' of the gospel, 'stewards of the mysteries of God.'

Not many people like the idea of being confined by something, or being limited by something external to themselves, but when it comes to preaching, there really is no other option if we are to faithfully proclaim the truth of Scripture. Stott quotes Donald Coggan, the former Archbishop of Canterbury, who noted that it was, in fact, a joy to be confined as a preacher by the Word of God:

The Christian preacher has a boundary set for him. When he enters the pulpit, he is not an entirely free man. There is a very real sense in which it may be said of him that the Almighty has set him his bounds that he shall not pass. He is not at liberty to invent or choose his message: it has been committed to him, and it is for him to declare, expound and commend it to his hearers... It is a great thing to come under the magnificent tyranny of the Gospel!

I quite like that, the "tyranny of the Gospel." It is, indeed, an absolute authority that we come under when we submit ourselves to Lordship of Jesus Christ and his Word. It demands our complete and unfailing loyalty. But yet it is under that authority that we find the most faithful and the most powerful preaching.

Earlier today I found a nice used copy of John Stott's book on preaching, Between Two Worlds (which now, somewhat ironically, sits right beside Martyn Lloyd-Jones', Preaching and Preachers, on the bookshelf). I opened the book at random to page 69, where I found this:

It is difficult to imagine the world in the year A.D. 2000, by which time versatile micro-processors are likely to be as common as simple calculators are today. We should certainly welcome the fact that the silicon chip will transcend human brain-power, as the machine has transcended human muscle-power. Much less welcome will be the probable reduction of human contact as the new electronic network renders personal relationships ever less necessary. In such a dehumanized society the fellowship of the local church will become increasingly important, whose members meet one another, and talk and listen to one another in person rather than on screen. In this human context of mutual love the speaking and hearing of the Word of God is also likely to become more necessary for the preservation of our humanness, not less.

I guess he was off by a few years, as the social networking revolution came along a little later than 2000, but he made a pretty fair assessment back in 1982 when the book was published.

What do you make of his call to the local church in response?