Prologue
Prologue
The Taste of Fear
Fear of imminent bodily harm has an unpleasant flavor in the most literal sense. Bile rises from the stomach and plants in one’s throat a sharp, bitter, metallic taste. So it was with J. I.’s American friend as he and the birthday girl drifted out to sea off the coast of Maui on a capsized catamaran with a large shark swimming quietly round and round them. So it was with his Canadian friend as she trod water in the chilly Pacific after the boat had sunk. J. I. has known the taste himself, and probably you have too; you would be a remarkable person if you have not.
Other forms of fear may not leave the same bad taste in the mouth, but metaphorically they can spoil the taste of your life. They cloud your spirit by day, they keep you awake at night, they undermine your concentration at all hours, and they make you run scared on a regular basis. Of all the modes of drivenness that human life embraces, being driven by fear is perhaps in the long run the most uncomfortable and the most damaging; it spoils your relationships by draining your capacity to live, it robs you of wisdom by keeping you looking sideways rather than straight ahead, and it is a very hard disability to overcome.
During the past century and a half, the topic of guidance from God has become a focus of just such fear in many Christian hearts. Christian people have always rejoiced in the certainty that God in his omniscient wisdom and grace is working out his plan for our lives, and that he helps us in our decision making and strengthens us to do what obedience to his revealed will requires of us. But in some quarters the exuberant, outward-looking holiness modeled by such men as John Wesley and William Wilberforce shrank into a legalistic pietism. Pietism, which means living by the belief that nothing in life matters so much as my personal relationship with God, is right and good, but legalism, which means living by the belief that the quality of my relationship with God depends on my turning in some form of correct performance, is neither. In this case, two specific things went wrong. First, the notion spread that getting and following direct guidance from God, as something above and beyond making commonsense decisions in Christian terms, was a matter of great importance in the Christian life. Second, God’s plan for the Christian individual’s life came to be thought of like a travel itinerary in which making planned connections is crucial and missing a connection wrecks the plan and spoils the rest of the journey. For now a second-rate plan B must be formed to replace the original ideal, but now impracticable, plan A, and this will certainly involve some measure of loss.
In consequence, fearful (fear-full) and perplexed anxiety with regard to decision making became widespread among evangelical people. Believers felt unable to make far-reaching decisions until they had received some special personal indication from God as to what they should do. Fear of making what from God’s standpoint would be wrong commitments vocationally, professionally, socially, relationally, and matrimonially induced a kind of inner paralysis that resulted in good and desirable commitments not being made, because people could not bring themselves to make any commitment at all (which was, of course, an instance of decision making in itself, though it was not usually seen that way). This has not been a happy state of affairs.
The irony of the situation was that teachers (there once were many of them) who warned against sentencing oneself to the second-rateness of a plan B through not asking God’s guidance diligently enough and so failing to make the right decision, were trying to ensure that Christians would face up to Christ’s call to embrace costly, self-denying service of others for his sake. At one time it was almost axiomatic among evangelicals that all who aimed to be first-class Christians should become either missionaries overseas or ministers/ministers’ wives or medical personnel (doctors or nurses) or masters/mistresses in schools. All other walks of life, however legitimate, were viewed as second-class by comparison with these. So young Christians were urged to seek personal guidance into one or other of the favored four, rather than into any more lucrative line of work.
None of this, to be sure, was wholly wrong. These four forms of service do in fact ordinarily offer more opportunities for doing good and bringing immediate benefit to people than do many other trades and professions; so they should be seen as privileged, and young people should be encouraged to aspire to one of them on this account. But the idea that they set you in a higher plane spiritually is a new form of the medieval superstition that God sees the professionally religious as a cut above everyone else. And the idea that you would need a special sign from God, over and above interest, aptitude, and the estimate of your fitness by others, to warrant your committing yourself to serve in one of these fields, or in any other employment for that matter, is superstition too.
But believers still feel anxious about guidance and find decision making spiritually uneasy and problematical. Fear, it seems, is still here. It is to try to help in this area of tense sensitivity that the present book has been written.
Fear-full Saints
One last preliminary point. Ministering over the years has shown us that the redeemed community includes two sorts of people, as does also the wider world: those who run silly and those who run scared. In terms of the ancient doctrine of the four temperaments, those who run silly tend to be the sanguine and the choleric, while those who run scared tend to be the phlegmatic and the melancholy. In modern language, we would label the two types the impulsives and the depressives. The impulsives are not thoughtful enough in the service of God, being too hasty and superficial and happy-go-lucky to reach wisdom’s full seriousness, while the depressives, feeling that things are against them, are not sufficiently trustful of God to enjoy wisdom’s full stability. The pervasive fear of being somehow wrong-footed and let down is always with them, and weakens their spiritual life more than they are aware. In terms of the classic cardinal virtues, the first type lacks prudence, the second type lacks courage, and both make mistakes about God’s guidance to them by reason of their own particular weakness. We have written this book in hope of helping both sorts of believers. The reason why our expositions swing as widely as they do is our desire for maximum usefulness. It is our prayer that everyone who reads this book will gain from it. God grant it! Amen.
J. I. Packer
Carolyn Nystrom