Preaching Jesus: On T.T. Shields, Martyn Lloyd-Jones and losing my first love

 

Years ago, Martyn Lloyd-Jones met with T.T. Shields and, in the course of their conversation, confronted him about his ministry. At one point he said,

“Dr. Shields, you used to be known as the Canadian Spurgeon, and you were. You are an outstanding man—in intellect, in preaching gift, in every other respect—but over the McMaster University business in the early twenties, you suddenly changed and became negatory and denunciatory. I feel it has ruined your ministry. Why don’t you come back? Drop all this; preach the gospel to people positively and win them (Iain H. Murray, D. Martyn Lloyd-Jones: The First Forty Years (1899–1939)!” 

What happened to Shields can happen to any one of us. And by “us,” I mean especially preachers - though it can be true of laypeople as well. I’m not entirely sure how or why it happens, except that it is a very real temptation, and one to which many of us have succumbed.

During a visit with friends the other night, I found myself reflecting on my years in ministry and admitting that, toward the end of my time in a Reformed Presbyterian church, this very thing was happening to me. I didn’t see it at the time. As far as I can tell, I was entirely sincere. I loved the Lord and longed to see Him honored by His people. Malachi 1:6 was almost a mantra. But I had become distracted. In short, I was no longer making the main things the main things.

Looking back on that season, I see now that in my pursuit of holiness and reformation, I had become imbalanced. Though I loved the gospel of grace, my pursuit of holiness was not deeply enough grounded in the finished work of Christ. In the words of Ralph Erskine, there was too much of a “legal temper” in me (volume 2, pp. 78–84). I could take a text on the finished work of Jesus, or the compassion of Christ, or the wonders of God’s grace - and turn it into an imperative. Though I intended to faithfully preach Jesus, I was becoming negatory and denunciatory.

It wasn’t intentional. But at some point, the thrust of my ministry shifted - from preaching Jesus to preaching regeneration, law, prayer, reformation, and eventually COVID. Whatever I may have intended, it could no longer be said that I was determined to know nothing but Jesus Christ and Him crucified.

Of course, there is a place for imperatives in preaching. And COVID, lockdowns, and Romans 13 had to be addressed. But they shouldn’t have become the main thing. In my case, the shift had already begun before COVID.* I had become deeply concerned that many professing believers were unregenerate, and in my zeal for souls and for God’s praise, my preaching began to focus on regeneration. I was convinced the Church needed reformation, and I resolved to see a thorough reformation take place. When the churches began to close during COVID, it only confirmed my suspicions.

The challenge for me, as I look back, is that I don’t think I was entirely mistaken. I still believe churches should have remained open. I still believe it was wrong for church leaders to comply with government mandates that shut the doors of churches. I still believe there are unregenerate people in our churches - though not nearly as many as I once feared. I still believe prayer is essential. I still long for reformation - though perhaps not the kind I once sought.

But by God’s grace, something foundational has changed. When I stepped away from pastoral ministry, I was broken. Through a variety of circumstances, I had been brought very low, and for a period of years, I struggled with depression. In that season, I lost all confidence in myself. There were outward factors, but also the sinking realization that I was not what I thought I was. And suddenly, the gospel of grace was precious to me again. Actually, it seemed to be all I had. It wasn’t merely the foundation - it was everything.

Like the publican, I was given a glimpse of what was within, and the law could not help me. I needed Jesus. Sitting in the pew, I discovered something: legal preaching neither motivated nor helped me. It sat on me like an oppressive weight that, with time, became more than I could bear. Ironically, though the preacher might have been motivating with all his might, the motivation for service was gone. But when the preacher set Jesus before me, the imperatives seemed almost superfluous. Seeing Jesus, I wanted to live for Him and honor Him. When Christ was preached - when by faith I could hear His voice and see His face - I was like the man who found a treasure hidden in the field. I didn’t need to be told what to do; I wanted to do it, and I did it for joy.

That season reminded me why moralistic or legal preaching can be so dangerous. More than that, it reminded me why the best preachers preach not regeneration or law or reformation - but Jesus.

What happened to T.T. Shields - what happened to me - can happen to anyone. Preachers, like laypeople, can lose their first love.** In our blind zeal for God, we can become fixated on issues and polemics. We can become consumed with what’s wrong in the world and in the Church - and we may even be partly right. But this shift in focus subtly breeds pride and a censorious spirit. Sermons become hard and brittle, and the compassions and lovingkindness of Jesus no longer mark the ministry. Jesus, who once thrilled our hearts, is no longer the theme of our preaching. And for a time, a church may survive - perhaps even thrive - under such preaching. But eventually, it will shrivel up and die.

The process that brought me here has been painful, but I’m now grateful for it. I have come to understand Paul’s words: “What then? notwithstanding, every way, whether in pretence, or in truth, Christ is preached; and I therein do rejoice, yea, and will rejoice (Philippians 1:18).” We may have our differences, but when I find a man who preaches Jesus, I am so thankful. On the other hand, there is nothing so tragic as when a man - gifted and on the right side of all the issues - ceases to preach Jesus and instead becomes distracted.

Let’s pray for our pastors. Some - like Shields - are losing their way. If there’s one thing that is sorely needed right now, it’s that preachers, in particular, would return to their first love. We need more of Jesus in the pulpit and in the pew.  As the old saying goes, “Like priest, like people.”

Perhaps it would help if we spent less time paying attention to the latest debates and controversies, less time fixated on the sins of the age, and more time looking at Jesus. In the words of Robert Murray M’Cheyne:

“Learn much of the Lord Jesus. For every look at yourself, take ten looks at Christ. He is altogether lovely—such infinite majesty, and yet such meekness and grace, and all for sinners, even the chief! Live much in the smiles of God. Bask in His beams. Feel His all-seeing eye settled on you in love, and repose in His almighty arms."

The wise pastor might adopt a similar policy with regard to polemics and controversy: "For every look at the world, every look at the law, every look at social media, every look at the latest issue or controversy, take ten looks at Christ." In the end, it’s not issues, controversies, or even God’s law that sustains a ministry, a minister, and his people - it’s Jesus, the altogether lovely One. He alone can sustain and satisfy His people. He alone is the reason and motive for holiness. And He alone deserves to be the theme of the preacher, pulpit and people. 

* In November of 2018, I traveled with a friend to spend time with a group of pastors in the FCC. During that trip, the two of us had many conversations about the state of the Church, the problem of unregenerate membership among us, and the need for reformation in worship. I remember coming home deeply affected by my time with the FCC men and the conversations my friend and I had shared, and I resolved to do all I could to see the Church reformed - as I then believed it needed to be. Looking back, I’m fairly certain that was when the shift began.  Incidentally, shortly after returning home - and perhaps one or two sermons into a new series on worship - I recall an older woman offering me a word of caution. I wish now that I had heeded her advice.

I believe the burnout I experienced at the end of 2019 and into the early months of 2020 had everything to do with the pressure I had put on myself to see the unregenerate converted and the Church properly revived and reformed.  I remember the weight of that pressure and the anguish I felt over the state of the Church - both locally and more broadly.  Part of this was due to my allowing myself to be influenced by those whose standard of new birth was higher than that of the Bible; but part of it was due to my failure to recognize that my task was to faithfully preach Jesus and leave the results with Him.

**  Our times of worship during the lockdowns of 2020 and 2021 were times in which heaven seemed to come down.  There was something wonderful about that season, and I will always look back on it with gratitude. At the same time, I regret that I allowed the emphasis of the preaching to drift from Christ to issues and polemics, and that I gave too much of my time and attention to the problems I was seeing in the broader Church.