Storms Signs of the Spirit

An Interpretation of Jonathan Edwards's "Religious Affections"
1. Auflage 2007
ISBN: 978-1-4335-2096-9
Verlag: Crossway
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 0 - No protection

E-Book, Englisch, 240 Seiten

Jonathan Edwards's treatise Religious Affections is widely considered the most important and accurate analysis of religious experience ever written. Unfortunately, many well-intentioned readers sit down with Religious Affections, only to give up in frustration over Edwards's lofty style and complex argumentation. For this reason Sam Storms, one of evangelicalism's experts on Edwards, has attempted to bridge the gap between how Edwards said what he did in the eighteenth century and how he might say it today. In Signs of the Spirit he articulates the substance of Edwards's arguments in a more understandable way. The point is not to 'dumb down' Jonathan Edwards but to make his work accessible to a wider audience. This volume serves those both in and outside the academic realm as valuable preparation for, or as a companion guide to, a reading of Edwards's Religious Affections.

Sam Storms (PhD, University of Texas at Dallas) is the founder and president of Enjoying God Ministries and serves on the council of the Gospel Coalition. Sam served as visiting associate professor of theology at Wheaton College and is a past president of the Evangelical Theological Society. He is the author or editor of 37 books and blogs regularly at SamStorms.org. Sam and his wife, Ann, are the parents of two daughters and grandparents of four.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Storms, Sam

Leseproben

Preface: A Brief Apologetic for Signs of the Spirit

ASIDE FROM THE biblical authors themselves, no one has had greater influence on my life than Jonathan Edwards. I first became acquainted with him at the urging of Dr. John Hannah, longtime professor at Dallas Theological Seminary, from which I received my Th.M. in historical theology in 1973. John suggested that I undertake an independent studies course in Edwards and that I begin by reading his treatise on the Freedom of the Will (which eventually led to my writing a master’s thesis on that volume). My first exposure to Edwards’ Religious Affections came when John also insisted that it be included in the list of readings. I will forever be grateful for his wise counsel!

Because of the profound and truly life-changing influence that Edwards has exerted on me, I am quick to recommend his works to others, indeed, to everyone. This brings me to my defense of this interpretation of his treatise on the Affections. If people heeded my advice, I would hardly have undertaken this project. Nothing grieves me more than to hear that yet another has started reading Edwards only to give up, frustrated by his style or overwhelmed by the complexity of his argumentation.

I can’t begin to count the number of times I’ve been asked for recommended reading and have suggested Edwards (specifically the Religious Affections), only to be greeted with a contorted face or an embarrassed evasion that goes something like this: “Well, I tried reading Edwards. I really wanted to read the Affections, but after about fifteen or twenty pages into it, I just quit. For whatever reason, I couldn’t follow him. His style was aggravating and, well, to be honest, I just couldn’t understand what he was saying.”

Such confessions have come not only from average lay folk, but from well-educated seminary graduates as well. Edwards’ penchant for torturously complex sentence structure, together with the abundance of theological “bunny trails” that, at least initially, don’t seem to contribute to the point he is making, have tested and all too often triumphed over the determination of even the most avid and intellectual of Christians.

For years I have taken the high ground when it comes to the reading of Edwards, refusing to yield to the insistent demand that someone “tweak his prose” or paraphrase his theological concepts. I have faithfully exhorted countless men and women, again and again, to renew their commitment to working through some of Edwards’ more daunting treatises. “Your patience and perseverance will reap a bountiful harvest,” I have said again and again, to little (or no) avail I’ve come to discover. Sure, there are a few, here and there, who’ve made their way through the Affections and were (justifiably) proud of their journey. But even in the majority of these cases, they aren’t sure they understood, far less appreciated and embraced, what they had read.

I’ve worked my way through the Affections at least ten times and I still struggle in places to make sense of Edwards. I’m more than happy to attribute this failure to my shortcomings rather than his (indeed, I still hesitate, at times, to acknowledge that he had any shortcomings!). But I can no longer escape the conclusion that no matter how passionately I exhort and encourage and rebuke and challenge people to read Edwards, no matter how exuberantly I promise them great treasure at the end of their labors, the vast majority of folk simply won’t do it. Or they will read at most a few pages and then set aside the book, forever convinced that Edwards is beyond their grasp. I wish it were otherwise. I pray that it could be otherwise. But it isn’t and, I fear, never will be.

The theology of Jonathan Edwards and his insight into the nature of religious experience are simply too important, too relevant, and too enriching to sacrifice on the altar of some lofty ideal that it is beneath his (and our) dignity to make his work accessible to a more general audience. I suppose I could go to my grave proudly congratulating myself for not having yielded to the temptation to do what this book proposes. But I’d go there with the disturbing realization that other people are likewise going there without having reaped the eternal benefits of what Edwards had to say.

Let’s be clear about something. I’m not advocating the “dumbing down” of Jonathan Edwards (or any aspect of the Christian faith). Yes, I would much prefer the “smarting up” of the Christian public, equipping them for the task of wrestling with this magnificent theological mind (and others as well). And I will continue to challenge believers of every age and educational background to think and dig deeply into the rich treasures of Christ, his Word, and the resources made available to his church throughout the last two millennia. My prayer is that Signs of the Spirit will be a helpful tool in the pursuit of that goal.

Nevertheless, I suspect that on reading this many will come to me, protesting, “Sam, you’re wrong! I read the Affections. I loved it. Yes, it was really hard, but my perseverance paid off.” Praise God for every one of them. But for every one of them there are one hundred others who tell a different story, whose encounter with Edwards was frustrating and embarrassing. It is for the latter that I wrote this book, not the former.

In my decision to write this book, I also had to overcome the comments of John E. Smith, who edited Religious Affections for the Yale University Press edition of Edwards’ works (which is now at twenty-five volumes). In his editorial introduction, Smith wrote:

In directing attention to his style, we cannot overlook the fact that many readers have found the Affections difficult going, nor should we ignore what is implied in the activity of the many editors who thought it necessary to rewrite the text. It is admittedly an exacting work; it calls for a reader’s best effort. But there are rewards if we are willing to raise ourselves to the level of Edwards’ austere standards; nothing is to be gained by bringing him down to a more facile plane in order to make him say what we would like to hear.1

“So, what say ye, Sam?” For the most part, I agree with Smith, at least with his conclusion that it is “difficult going,” “an exacting work,” shaped by “austere standards.” But it would be a mistake to think that this book is an effort to bring him down to a “more facile plane in order to make him say what we would like to hear.” My goal is to enable the reader to hear only what Edwards himself intended to say. I’m simply attempting to bridge a rather cavernous gap between how Edwards said it in the eighteenth century and how I believe he would say it were he alive in the twenty-first century.

It would be easy to read Smith’s words, nod our heads in agreement, and walk away with a smug complacency for having heeded his warning. But that wouldn’t result in more people reading Edwards! Or at least not enough people would read him to justify that sort of well-intentioned but idealistic response.

Many of you will contend that I’ve done a disservice to Edwards, that I’ve failed to honor him for all that he has meant to me personally. I hope that’s not true. I would rather think that I’ve honored him in the way he deserves by laboring to make accessible to as many people as possible his marvelous insights into the Christian faith. So what exactly have I done in this book? What is Signs of the Spirit?

As the subtitle indicates, this is an interpretation of the Religious Affections. When it comes to Edwards’ Personal Narrative, it is more an application, but to include that in the subtitle would make it impossibly cumbersome. So why do I call it an interpretation?

I had considered describing it as a contemporary rendering, but that strikes me as a bit dishonest. The fact is, I have interpreted the Religious Affections. To think otherwise would be both naïve and a failure to recognize that I am rendering his work through my own theological and personal grid. Every time I choose to omit a particular paragraph, I am making an interpretive decision that inescapably reflects what I regard as most important in the treatise. There are reasons, both personal and philosophical, that govern my choices as to what is central and controlling in Edwards’ work as over against what is secondary and peripheral. Every time I rewrite a paragraph or paraphrase an argument or summarize a theological point, my own convictions are in evidence. I think it’s important that the reader understand this.

Of course, I wouldn’t have undertaken this task if I didn’t believe that I truly understood what Edwards was getting at in his argument. But I leave it to scholars more adept in Edwards than I to render a judgment on my success. I’m certain that some readers who are familiar with Edwards will object to editorial decisions I’ve made as well as theological interpretations that are reflected in my effort to make his lofty ideas not more “facile” but hopefully more intelligible. That’s the risk one takes when writing a book like this.

The strategy I followed is simple. I sat down over several months and read and reread the Affections, each time rewriting or articulating in a more understandable way the substance of Edwards’ argument. I would determine, as best I could, what sections to omit, believing them to be tangential to the main argument or perhaps repetitive in a way that would only bog down the average reader (such as Edwards’ many extended citations...