Things New and Old - Glenn Conjurske
Things New and Old
by Glenn Conjurske
“Then said he unto them, Therefore every scribe which is instructed in the kingdom of heaven is like unto a man that is an householder, which bringeth forth out of his treasure things new and old.”—-Matthew 13:52.
New revelations we have nothing to do with. We have no need of them. But the fact is, there is no man, no age, no denomination, which has yet fathomed the depths of the old Revelation. We all know in part. The whole church, collectively, knows but in part. There always has been, therefore, and doubtless always will be while the present state of imperfection continues, occasion enough for the man of God to bring forth from his treasures “things new” as well as things old—-things which none of his fathers ever knew, but which are nevertheless the truth of God.
But we must begin by granting that most of the objections against new doctrines are quite just, though their novelty is no sufficient ground to condemn them. It is surely safe to say that the vast majority of novelties which have been hatched in the history of the church have been error, and usually folly besides. Those who have the most inclination to bring forth novelties have the least ability to bring forth anything sound or true. Their inclination is the fruit of their pride. If they manage—-and manage they do—-to discover something which no one else holds or teaches, their pride lays hold of it immediately, not only as the undoubted truth, but as the very truth which is most needed by the church or the world. The fact that it was born in their own brain gives it an irresistible appeal. Such men may bring forth great numbers of “things new,” but none of them are worth anything. A different sort of man is required to bring forth new things which are of solid worth.
The ability to bring forth things which are both new and true is generally confined to the humble and the conservative. These move slowly and with due deliberation.
But let us understand that the bringing forth of things new does not necessarily imply any change of doctrinal position. Whatever we held before we may hold still, but we may add to it.
All this is typified most aptly in the history of Isaac. In the first place, “And Isaac digged again the wells of water, which they had digged in the days of Abraham his father, for the Philistines had stopped them after the death of Abraham; and he called their names after the names by which his father had called them.” (Gen. 26:18). There is nothing new here, but only a restoration of the old, which the Philistines, with the perversity of the dog in the manger, had stopped up. And observe, when Isaac restored the old wells, he called them by their old names. He was no restless innovator. He did not call sin “wrong-doing,” nor a single eye a “good eye.” If he recovered the true doctrine of baptism, he called it baptism still, and not immersion. New terminology is more to be feared than new doctrine. New doctrine may but add to old truth. New terminology unsettles the soul, and usually undermines the truth besides.
Now such a man as Isaac was, who begins at the old wells, and calls them by their old names, is a fit man to dig new wells also, and we soon find Isaac doing so. This is quite proper, but when we see a man digging new wells, who has never opened up the old ones, nor called them by their old names, we may safely consider that his novelties are as empty as he is. Those who object to the new, however, merely because it is new, proceed always on the false assumption that there is perfection under the sun, and that once upon a time our fathers—-whether the church fathers, the denominational fathers, or some favorite teacher—-so attained the perfection of theology as to leave nothing more for us to learn. They dug all the wells which could be dug. They knew all the truth which could be known. All our business is to hold fast to the Westminster Confession, the Thirty-Nine Articles, the Keswick platform, or Brethren Principles.
But even assuming that there were no error in those systems, we have no right to assume that they contain the whole truth. Every age of the church brings its own exigencies. We must cross rivers and kill giants which our fathers never met. And we may cross the same rivers which they crossed in a better boat than any which they had crafted.
Those who exalt the past as the standard of truth proceed directly contrary to common sense. Those who adhere to the doctrines of the Reformation, the Westminster Confession, the principles of the early Brethren, or the Keswick platform, and decry any departure therefrom, or any advance thereupon, do but close their eyes to the truth. How much more those who wish to return to the fathers of the primitive church. They have somehow failed to lay hold of the common sense which is embodied in the old proverb, “He that comes after, sees with more eyes than his own.” The wisdom of the race is a cumulative thing. Though the Revelation which God has given is perfect and complete, as the all-sufficient standard of truth for all time, no age has yet fathomed its depths.
We can look back and see how the primitive church fathers’ unguarded exaltation of the authority of the bishops grew into all the ecclesiastical tyranny of the dark ages. Again, we can look back and see that the Reformers’ over-reaction to this, and their consequent unguarded exaltation of the right of private judgement, has led to all the proud presumption of modern Evangelicalism. Thus we may learn from the cumulative wisdom of the ages to temper ecclesiastical authority with the right of private judgement, and the right of private judgement with Scriptural authority, and so avoid the ditch on either side of the path. Neither the fathers nor the Reformers could do so. Neither of them were in so good a position to apprehend the truth as we are today.
Not that I would pretend that the church is therefore wiser today than it has ever been in the past. I believe no such thing. Quite the contrary. Perhaps only in the dark ages could we find a generation of Christians so spiritually incompetent as that which now cumbers the earth. But this has nothing to say against my thesis. Wisdom is for the most part confined to the few who will pay the price for it, and all that I contend is that those few are in a better position to learn wisdom today than ever any of their fathers have been. They have the cumulative wisdom of the ages before them—-indeed, much of it on the ends of their tongues, though they may be ignorant of its import—-and those who will search it out may find it.
And such will certainly bring forth things new as well as things old. “Every scribe which is instructed in the kingdom of heaven … bringeth forth out of his treasure things new and old.” The new he will bring forth sparingly and cautiously, no doubt. Yet he who is thoroughly settled in the understanding and the love of the old may safely bring forth that which is new, and far be it from us to condemn it merely because it is new.
We look to the past for wisdom, not for authority. What we find there is to be weighed, not blindly followed, and we often learn wisdom better from our fathers’ errors than from their understanding.
Darby says, “The approbation of centuries has no weight at all with me. Nor even is the constant faith of the saints in all ages a measure or a proof of truth; but neither is a light disregard of it a proof of a state of soul which gives competency to judge of truth.” A light disregard of the past, an itching to depart from things old, a hankering to bring forth what is new, these are the sure signs that a man is destitute of wisdom, while he is full of pride, and incapable of bringing forth anything which is both new and true. The exaltation of the old to the place of authority, however, and the rigid exclusion of all “things new,” is also destructive of wisdom, though generally not so dangerous.
Indeed, it appears to me that those who look to the past for authority have taken the bait which seems to be particularly alluring to the present lazy and shallow generation, and fallen into the same trap which has ensnared the modern church in every field. They have found an easy way—-a way which settles the truth without the exercise of wisdom, without thinking, without proving all things, without wrestling with difficulties, without weighing actions or scrutinizing motives. The doctrine or example of their fathers settles all. For it should be understood that those who look to the past for authority never look to the whole past, for that they would find more difficult than the Bible. They never look to the cumulative wisdom of the ages. They never weigh the past, or build upon it. All that were much too hard. They rather single out some particular age or people, and exalt it to the place of authority. With some it is the church fathers, with others the Reformers, with others the early Brethren, with others the Scofield Reference Bible, but the effect is the same in all. This is easy, and requires no wisdom. It narrows the mind, and usually the heart also. It puffs up the pride, too, for it proceeds on the assumption that we know the whole truth. It is a foregone conclusion that “things new” are false, and any system which excludes “things new” is founded in pride. So is every system which slights “things old.” The former is traditionalism. The latter is liberalism. Standing between them is conservatism, walking in the old paths, standing by the ancient landmarks, its primary attachment being always to that which is old and tried, but yet bringing forth “things new” as God enables, and as occasion calls for it.
Glenn Conjurske
