A "New Breed" of Presbyterians

If in the last half of the twentieth century liberal Protestantism lost the ears of the nation, there were nevertheless at the same time some stirrings of life in the American pulpit. One of these was the appearance of a "new breed" of Presbyterians. . . .

This is where I see myself. This is, at least, the company of preachers with whom I would like to take my stand.

One of the most important characteristics of this new breed is its devotion to the classics of both the Protestant Reformation and the ancient church. Even more, the new breed is a "back-to-the-Bible" breed. For the more sophisticated it is an ad fontes movement. We really like Dale Bruner's commentary on Matthew and Brevard Child's work on the Christian interpretation of Exodus. . . . Here is a breed that is rediscovering its heritage: Martin Luther and John Calvin, yes, but Bernard of Clairvaux and Augustine, too! Even more radical is the rediscovery of John Owen, Matthew Henry, and Thomas Chalmers. This is a breed that has rediscovered its progenitors. It knows its sires and dams. . . .

Back in our pedigree are a John Knox and a John Leith, a John Mackay and a John Chrysostom. We are a new breed, but our bloodlines are clear enough. (pp. 87-89)

There is something . . . that transcends the professional cleric of our day. It is that Old School Presbyterianism that appreciates both the holiness of God and the sanctity of the church. This Old School Presbyterianism, which one still finds in Virginia and the Carolinas, never got converted by the evangelism of Charles Finney. These were people who were born and brought up in the church. They learned the Ten Commandments from the catechism, and from time to time in the preaching of the Scriptures and the celebration of the Lord's Supper they felt the presence of the Holy Spirit. Some even felt the call to the mission field in China and Brazil. They died like flies in the Congo (but the seed they planted bore fruit). They believed, and their faith gave them strength for their work. Such are the spiritual roots. (p. 123)

The question here is whether what we have examined in this chapter constitutes a distinct school of preaching. . . . Do they really exemplify a "new breed" of Presbyterian preachers?

As I see it, there really is an identifiable group of preachers who are recognized above all by their rediscovery of systematic expository preaching. Sometimes this was accompanied by a rediscovery of catechetical or doctrinal preaching as well. It is not that this school was founded by anyone in particular or that it arose in any particular seminary. It is not that this was the method of preaching advocated by the Bible [it was, but they did not argue that], nor was it argued that this was the method of John Chrysostom or Ulrich Zwingli. Some of these contemporary preachers may have been aware that Augustine or Origen or Calvin used it, as indeed they did, but they did not argue for it for that reason. It was mostly because it seemed to be a good way of preaching. It seemed appropriate.

For me, preaching the lectio coninua [reading and so preaching continuously through books of the Bible, chapter by chapter and verse by verse] was one of the patristic roots of Reformed worship, as the title of my doctoral dissertation has it. But I still figure the biblical root is the taproot. The New Testament church probably did quite a bit of expository preaching. . . . That was the way it was done in the synagogue in the days of Jesus. . . .

Strong expository preaching as well as strong doctrinal preaching are beginning to fill the pews that the fifteen-minute homilies of a generation ago succeeded in emptying. To be sure, this is no whirlwind movement. It is developing slowly, but my guess is, it will be around a while. (pp. 171-172)

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