Arminianism and Evangelism

Chapter 4 from The Forgotten Spurgeon
(Banner of Truth Trust, 2nd edition, 1973)

by Iain Murray

(Copyrighted material used by the kind permission of Banner of Truth and Iain Murray)

We believe, that the work of regeneration, conversion, sanctification and faith, is not an act of man’s will and power, but of the mighty, efficacious and irresistible grace of God.  –from the ‘Declaration of Faith and Practice’ held by the New Park Street congregation.  The Early Years, 552.

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No more soul-destroying doctrine could well be devised than the doctrine that sinners can regenerate themselves, and repent and believe just when they please…. As it is a truth both of Scripture and of experience that the unrenewed man can do nothing of himself to secure his salvation, it is essential that he should be brought to a practical conviction of that truth.  When thus convinced, and not before, he seeks help from the only source whence it can be obtained.  – Charles Hodge, Systematic Theology, 2, 277.

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The extracts from sermons in our last chapter make it quite plain that Spurgeon did not believe that there is a gospel message which can somehow be detached from the whole structure of Biblical theology.  He regarded all truth as having a place in evangelism.  But what is likely to be questioned in view of the above statements which are so far removed from our modern conceptions of evangelism, is whether the gospel can be preached at all on a doctrinal basis such as this?  It must at once be admitted that if by the gospel we mean that Christ has died for everybody, that God ‘respects His gift of free-will to man,” and that ‘a decision for Christ’ is the crux of salvation, then such a gospel is not at all recognizable in Spurgeon’s sermons.  But he did unceasingly set forth the greatness of Christ’s love to sinners, the freeness of His pardon and the fullness of His atonement; and he persuaded and exhorted all to repent and trust in such a Saviour.  The point at which he diverged from both Hyper-Calvinism and Arminianism is that he refused to rationalize how men can be commanded to do what is not in their power. [1]  Arminians say that sinners are commanded, therefore they must be able; Hyper-Calvinists say they are not able, therefore they cannot be commanded.  But Scripture and Calvinism sets forth both man’s inability and his duty, and both truths are a necessary part of evangelism – the former reveals the sinner’s need of a help which only God can give, and the latter, which is expressed in the exhortations, promises and invitations of Scripture, shows him the place in which his peace and safety lies, namely, the person of the Son of God.

The fact that regeneration is the work of God certainly forbids us to tell men they can be born again at a moment which they or the preacher may choose, but it does not hinder the evangelist from doing his true work, which is to show men that they must be saved by grace through faith, and that trust in Christ is the way to peace with God.  However much it is beyond the power of reason to reconcile the command to sinners to believe on the Son of God for salvation with the truth that only grace can enable them to do so, there is no conflict between the two things in Scripture.  Spurgeon took these two truths, man’s duty to believe and his sinful inability to do so, and used them like the two jaws of a vice to grip the sinner’s conscience.  Take the following example:

‘God asks you to believe that through the blood of Jesus Christ, He can still be just, and yet the justifier of the ungodly.  He asks you to trust in Christ to save you.  Can you expect that He will save you if you will not trust Him?  Man, it is the most reasonable thing in the world that He should demand of thee that thou shouldst believe in Christ.  And this He does demand of thee this morning.  “Repent and believe the gospel.”  O friends, O friends, how sad, how sad is the state of man’s soul when he will not do this!  We may preach to you, but you never will repent and believe the gospel.  We may lay God’s commands, like an axe, to the root of the tree, but reasonable as these commands are, you will still refuse to give God His due; you will go on in your sins; you will not come unto Him that you may have life; and it is here the Spirit of God must come in to work in the souls of the elect to make them willing in the day of His power.  But oh! in God’s name I warn you that, if, after hearing this command, you do, as I know you will do, without His Spirit, continue to refuse obedience to so reasonable a gospel, you shall find at the last it shall be more tolerable for Sodom and Gomorrah, than for you; for had the things which are preached in London been proclaimed in Sodom and Gomorrah, they would have repented long ago in sackcloth and in ashes.  Woe unto you, inhabitants of London!’ [2] 

But he did not leave sinners at this point.  Listen to the way in which he closes the sermon from which we have just quoted.  With a great crescendo of truth he has been attacking the consciences of the unconverted from every direction and now, in an agony of earnestness, he reaches this tremendous conclusion:  ‘I charge you by the living God, I charge you by the world’s Redeemer, I charge you by the cross of Calvary, and by the blood which stained the dust at Golgotha, obey this divine message and you shall have eternal life; but refuse it, and on your own heads be your blood for ever and ever!’ [3]

Moreover, he not only exhorted sinners, he frequently directed them.  In language which seems so far off from the present formula for closing an evangelistic message, he would counsel men how to seek Christ:  ‘Before you leave this place,’ he says on one such occasion, ‘breathe an earnest prayer to God, saying, “God be merciful to me a sinner.  Lord, I need to be saved.  Save me.  I call upon thy name.”  Join with me in prayer at this moment, I entreat you.  Join with me while I put words into your mouths, and speak them on your behalf – ‘Lord, I am guilty, I deserve thy wrath.  Lord, I cannot save myself.  Lord, I would have a new heart and a right spirit, but what can I do?  Lord, I can do nothing, come and work in me to will and to do of thy good pleasure.

Thou along hast power, I know,
To save a wretch like me;
To whom, or whither should I go
If I should run from thee?

But now I do from my very soul call upon thy name.  Trembling, yet believing, I cast myself wholly upon thee, O Lord.  I trust the blood and righteousness of thy dear Son…. Lord, save me tonight, for Jesus’ sake.”’

Another verse which he used in directing sinners was Charles Wesley’s stanza:

O God, my inmost soul convert,
And deeply on my thoughtful heart
Eternal things impress;
Give me to feel their solemn weight,
And trembling on the brink of fate,
Wake me to righteousness.

In this way seeking souls were directed to God alone, and while the members of the Tabernacle were expected to be always looking out for those needing spiritual help, there was no outward or physical sign required of those who were under concern.  It was just at that point, Spurgeon knew, that Arminianism works havoc by calling attention to the human action instead of the Divine.  ‘Go home alone,’ he would say, ‘trusting in Jesus.  “I should like to go into the enquiry room.”  I dare say you would, but we are not willing to pander to popular superstition.  We fear that in those rooms men are warmed into a fictitious confidence.  Very few of the supposed converts of enquiry-rooms turn out well.  Go to your God at once, even now where you are.  Cast yourself on Christ, now, at once, ere you stir an inch!’  These words were spoken before the enquiry-room had fully developed into the modern system of appeals and decisions; how sadly Spurgeon would have viewed such a development is not hard to imagine.  He recognized that once such things became a part of evangelism, men would soon begin to imagine that they could be saved by doing certain things or that these things would at least help to save them – ‘God has not appointed salvation by enquiry-rooms’ becomes a recurring warning in his later sermons.

Man has made a connection between coming forward after an appeal and ‘coming to Christ,’ but Spurgeon would have strongly repudiated any such connection.  Not only does such an evangelistic method not exist in Scripture, it vitiates what Scripture does teach on coming to Christ: ‘It is a motion of the heart towards Him, not a motion of the feet, for many come to Him in body, and yet never came to Him in truth,… the coming here meant is performed by desire, prayer, assent, consent, trust, obedience.’ [4]  Furthermore, Spurgeon had enough experience of the powerful working of the Spirit to know that these human additions to preaching the gospel were not justified by their supposed helpfulness:  the man genuinely convicted by the truth may be the last to desire to comply with the public actions which an ‘appeal’ would force on him:  ‘For the most part, a wounded conscience, like a wounded stag, delights to be alone that it may bleed in secret.  It is very hard to get at a man under conviction of sin; he retires so far into himself that it is impossible to follow him.’ [5]  The practice at the Tabernacle was entirely in harmony with these convictions.  At the close of services the congregation of 5,000 would be bowed in solemn stillness with no organ or other music to break the silence, and then members of the church would be ready to speak to any strangers who might be sitting near them and desiring help.

These considerations on the way Arminianism affects the presentation of the Gospel lead us to a final reason why the teaching must necessarily be regarded in a serious light.  It is because this type of evangelism, wherever it prevails, has an inevitable tendency to produce a dangerous religious superficiality.  Arminianism in by-passing, as we have seen, the offensive truth that all saving experience must begin with regeneration, and because it implies that men come to faith and repentance without the direct and prior work of the Holy Spirit, sets up a pattern for conversion which is below the Biblical one.  The sinner is instructed, under Arminian preaching, that he must begin the work by becoming willing and God will complete it; he must do what he can and God will do the rest.  So if a firm ‘decision for Christ’ is made, he is at once counseled to trust that the Divine work has also been done, and to regard such texts as John 1:12 as describing his own case.  But the truth is that Arminianism has erected a pattern of conversion which is sub-scriptural and which unregenerate men can attain to.  By representing repentance and faith as something possible for unrenewed men it opens the way to an experience in which the self-will of the sinner and not the power of God may be the main feature.  The Scripture everywhere represents the will and power of God as first, not second, in salvation, and a teaching which promises that God’s will must follow our will may have the effect of causing men to trust in a delusion – an experience which is not salvation at all.  And the urgency of the warning arises in part from the fact that there is a ‘faith’ which can be exercised by unregenerate men, and the exercise of it may even lead to joy and peace.  But Arminianism, instead of cautioning men against this danger, inevitably encourages it, for it throws men, not upon God, but upon their acts.  The impression is distinctly given to the gospel hearer that the choice is not God’s but his and that he is able there and then to decide the time of his rebirth.  For example, a booklet, which is much circulated in student evangelism at the present time, lays down ‘Three simple steps’ to becoming a Christian:  first, personal acknowledgment of sin, and second, personal belief in Christ’s substitutionary work.  These two are described as preliminary, but ‘the third so final that to take it will make me a Christian.  …I must come to Christ and claim my personal share in what He did for everybody.’  This all-decisive third step rests with me, Christ ‘waits patiently until I open the door.  Then He will come in…’  Once I have done this I may immediately regard myself as a Christian.  The advice follows:  ‘Tell somebody today what you have done.’

On this basis a person may make a profession without ever having his confidence in his own ability shattered; he has been told absolutely nothing of his need of a change of nature which is not within his own power, and consequently, if he does not experience such a radical change, he is not dismayed.  He was never told it was essential, so he sees no reason to doubt whether he is a Christian.  Indeed the teaching he has come under consistently militates against such doubts arising.  It is frequently said that a man who has made a decision with little evidence of a change of life may be a ‘carnal’ Christian who needs instruction in holiness, or if the same individual should gradually lose his new-found interests, the fault is frequently attributed to lack of ‘follow-up,’ or prayer, or some other deficiency on the part of the Church.  The possibility that these marks of worldliness and falling away are due to the absence of a saving experience at the outset is rarely considered; if this point were faced, then the whole system of appeals, decisions and counseling would collapse, because it would bring to the fore the fact that change of nature is not in man’s power, and that it takes much longer than a few hours or days to establish whether a professed response to the gospel is genuine.  But instead of facing this, it is protested that to doubt whether a man who has ‘accepted Christ’ is a Christian is tantamount to doubting the Word of God, and that to abandon ‘appeals’ and their adjuncts is to give up evangelism altogether.  That such things can be said is tragic proof of the extent to which the Arminian pattern of conversion has come to be regarded as the Biblical one. So much is this the case that if anyone raises an objection to the use of such unscriptural expressions as ‘accepting Christ,’ ‘opening your heart to Christ,’ ‘letting the Holy Spirit save you,’ it would generally be regarded as merely cavilling about words.

Spurgeon saw Arminianism to be a departure from the purity of New Testament evangelism and, in asserting the religious superficiality to be one of its attendant consequences, he recognized what has become so characteristic of modern Evangelicalism.  It was not so much the advent of musical accompaniments and enquiry rooms that alarmed him, though he was troubled by these things and had no time for them, but rather the disappearing emphasis on the necessity of the Spirit’s work and the stream-lining of conversion into a speedy business:  ‘Do you know,’ he asked in a sermon entitled ‘Sown Among Thorns’ preached not long before his death, ‘why so many professing Christians are like the thorny ground?  It is because processes have been omitted which would have gone far to alter the condition of things.  It was the husbandman’s business to uproot the thorns, or burn them on the spot.  Years ago, when people were converted, there used to be such a thing as conviction of sin.  The great subsoil plough of soul-anguish was used to tear deep into the soul.  Fire also burned in the mind with exceeding heat: as men saw sin, and felt its dreadful results, the love of it was burned out of them.  But now we are dinned with braggings about rapid salvations.  As for myself, I believe in instantaneous conversions, and I am glad to see them; but I am still more glad when I see a thorough work of grace, a deep sense of sin, and an effectual wounding by the law.  We shall never get rid of thorns with ploughs that scratch the surface….’ [6]

With a lowered standard of conversion came a lowered conception of the real nature of true Christian experience, and Spurgeon viewed with dismay the failure to apply searching Scriptural tests to those who professed conversion.  ‘I have heard young people say, “I know I am saved, because I am so happy.”  Be not sure of that.  Many people think themselves very happy, and yet are not saved.’ [7]  A sense of peace he likewise regarded as no sure sign of true conversion.  Commenting on the verse, ‘The Lord killeth, and maketh alive: he woundeth, and his hands make whole,’ he asks: ‘But how can He make those alive who were never killed?  You that were never wounded, you who tonight have been sitting here and smiling at your own ease, what can mercy do for you? Do not congratulate yourselves on your peace.’ [8]  There is a peace of the Devil as well as the peace of God.  Throughout his ministry Spurgeon warned men of this danger but in some of his later sermons this note of alarm is increasingly urgent.  In one such sermon entitled ‘Healed or Deluded? Which?’ preached in 1882, Spurgeon speaks of the large numbers who are deceived by a false healing.  This may even be the case, he shows, with those who have gone through a period of spiritual anxiety:  ‘Convinced that they want healing, and made in a measure anxious to find it, the danger with the awakened is lest they should rest content with an apparent cure, and miss the real work of grace.  We are perilously likely to rest satisfied with a slight healing, and by this means to miss the great and complete salvation which comes from God alone.  I wish to speak in deep earnestness to everyone here present upon this subject, for I have felt the power of it in my own soul.  To deliver this message I have made a desperate effort, quitting my sick bed without due permit, moved by a restless pining to warn you against the counterfeits of the day.’ [9]

Wherever Arminianism becomes the dominant theology, true religion is bound to degenerate and false security to be promoted.  By separating the sinner’s need to believe from his need of regeneration, Arminianism places in the background the fact that ‘change of heart is the very core and essence of salvation.’ [10]  It is inevitable that it should not give prominence to the latter truth because no man can cause his nature to be forever divorced from the love and rule of sin, and regeneration means nothing short of this.  Instead Arminianism depicts regeneration as something within the scope of man’s choosing, or something which will accompany his decision, and in so doing its tendency is to make men imagine that the new birth is something less than it actually is.  ‘Your regeneration,’ Spurgeon would say, ‘was not of the will of man, nor of blood, nor of birth; if it were so, let me tell you, the sooner you are rid of it the better.  The only true regeneration is of the will of God and by the operation of the Holy Ghost.’ [11]

Arminianism gives men no such warning and its silence is dangerous because it fails to make clear the truth which safeguards men from false security – namely, that God never forgives sin without at the same time changing the nature of the sinner.  ‘I speak advisedly,’ Spurgeon declared, ‘when I say that the doctrine of “believe and live” would be a very dangerous one if it were not accompanied by the doctrine of regeneration.’ [12]  By emphasizing that ‘faith saves’ without also insisting that wherever true faith exists there is a new life, created in likeness to the character of God and manifesting itself in a hatred of all sin, Arminianism opens the way for a ‘believism’ which debases the meaning of conversion and does not give to that word its full content.

While the new life imparted in regeneration is never the ground of our justification, nevertheless the Scripture knows nothing of the possibility of a justified man who has not experienced ‘the washing of regeneration’ (Titus 3:5).  Arminianism has frequently separated conversion and sanctification because it has lost the truth that regeneration is the cause of conversion; but once the Biblical doctrine of regeneration is grasped it means that no man can be a true believer who does not possess a new life ‘created in righteousness and true holiness’ (Eph. 4:24).  According to Scripture it is quite impossible to be justified by faith and not to experience the commencement of true sanctification, because the spiritual life communicated by the Spirit in the act of regeneration (which introduces the new power to believe) is morally akin to the character of God and contains within it a germ of all holiness.  Thus saving faith is never found in isolation.  As the Westminster Confession teaches, faith ‘is the alone instrument of justification; yet it is not alone in the person justified, but is ever accompanied with all other saving graces.’

Because they teach this, the doctrines of grace are a barrier against carelessness and superficiality.  The very system which has been accused of lessening man’s responsibility has wherever it has prevailed, produced generations of serious, God-fearing and saintly people, for Calvinism has always emphasized that it is by obedience and holiness that we fulfill the apostolic command to make our calling and election sure: ‘If the divine calling has produced in us the fruit of obedience, then we may assuredly believe that we were separated unto God ere time began, and that this separation was according to the eternal purpose and will of God.’ [13]  On the other hand, Arminianism, which claims to be the protector or the doctrine of human responsibility, has within its teaching an inevitable tendency to lower the standard of true Christian experience.  In this connection it is significant that modern Evangelicalism has popularized the phrase ‘the eternal security of believers,’ whereas historic Calvinism has maintained the final perseverance of the saints: ‘We believe in the perseverance of the saints, but many are not saints, and therefore do not persevere.’ [14]

It is true that Arminianism has been productive of many ‘holiness’ meetings and conventions, but this fact, instead of rebutting the charge made above, rather confirms it, because there was no need of special teaching on sanctification until Arminianism began to prevail in evangelism.  Calvinism held that the same message which saves men makes them holy, and that a faith which is not bound up with holiness is not saving faith at all.  It was because he knew this that Spurgeon took no part in holiness conventions, but had he been called upon to address worldly ‘believers’ who needed to be sanctified there is no question what he would have had to say:  ‘Those people who have a faith which allows them to think lightly of past sin, have the faith of devils, and not the faith of God’s elect….Such who think sin a trifle and have never sorrowed on account of it, may know that their faith is not genuine.  Such men have a faith which allows them to live carelessly in the present, who say, “Well, I am saved by a simple faith,”…and enjoy the carnal pleasures and the lusts of the flesh, such men are liars; they have not the faith which will save the soul….Oh! if any of you have such faith as this, I pray God to turn it out bag and baggage.’ [15]

As we shall see in a subsequent chapter, the Arminian view of conversion received a more concrete form in England in the 1870’s when it came to logical fruition in Moody’s method of giving an ‘invitation’ at the end of an evangelistic address.  As it was not emphasized that a change of nature is necessary to effect a true response to the gospel, the idea was soon popularized that a man may be converted and then receive ‘sanctification’ at some later state in his Christian life.  The ‘holiness teaching,’ as it came to be called, was largely based on a concept of sanctification as something separate and distinct from conversion, and it is significant that it came into vogue along with an evangelism which promoted a defective theology of the new birth.  As B.B. Warfield has pointed out, the teaching owed not a little of its immense influence to the fact that it was ‘embroidered on the surface’ of the popular Moody and Sankey missions. [16]  In a preface to his book Holiness, J.C. Ryle, a critical Victorian contemporary of the ‘holiness’ movement, noted the fundamental flaw in the holiness teaching when he wrote:  ‘Many talk now-a-days about “Consecration” who seem to be ignorant of the “first principles of the oracles of God” about “Conversion.” [17]

The superficiality which is attendant upon Arminianism may be traced to the very center of its system.  ‘If you believe that everything turns upon the free-will of man,’ says Spurgeon, ‘you will naturally have man as its principle figure in your landscape.’ [18]  This being the case there is inevitably the tendency to regard Divine truth only as a means to gain men, and whatever truth does not appear to us to be effective towards that end, or whatever truth seems an obstacle to the widest possible evangelism, it is consequently liable to be laid aside.  The end must be greater than the means.  But what is here forgotten is that the ultimate end of the gospel is not the conversion of men but the glory of God.

It is not man’s need of salvation which is the supreme think, and once this is realized, the attitude which thinks ‘we must get men converted’ and fails to ask whether the means are according to Scripture, is seen in its true light.  ‘In the church of the present age there is a desire to be doing something for God, but few enquire what He wills them to do.  Many things are done for the evangelizing of the people which were never commanded by the great Head of the Church, and cannot be approved of by Him.’ [19]  We know His will only by His Word and, unless truth comes before results, conversions will soon be regarded more important than the Divine glory.  Spurgeon denounced the kind of evangelism in which there is ‘a wretched lowering of the truth upon many points in order to afford encouragement to men’ [20]; he saw that it would end ‘in utter failure’ and bring neither glory to God nor lasting blessing to the Church.  He deplored the fact that men were being allowed ‘to jump into their religion as men do into their morning bath, and then jump out again just as quickly, converted by the dozen, and unconverted one by one till the dozen has melted away.’ [21]  In contrast to this sort of thing, he declared solemnly on one occasion, ‘I do not wish for success in the ministry, if God does not give it me; and I pray that you who are workers for God, may not wish to have any success except that which comes from God himself in God’s own way; for if you would heap up, like the sand of the sea, converts that you have made by odd, unchristian ways, they would be gone like the sand of the sea as soon as another tide comes up.’ [22]
Spurgeon’s marks of true conversion are as follows:

‘When the Word of God converts a man, it takes away from him his despair but it does not take from him his repentance.
True conversion gives a man pardon, but does not make him presumptuous.
True conversion gives a man perfect rest, but it does not stop his progress.
True conversion gives a man security, but it does not allow him to leave off being watchful.
True conversion gives a man strength and holiness, but it never lets him boast.
True conversion gives a harmony to all the duties of Christian life;…it balances all duties, emotions, hopes and enjoyments.
True conversion brings a man to live for God.  He does everything for the glory of God, — whether he eats, or drinks, or whatsoever he does.  True conversion makes a man live before God….He desires to live as in God’s sight at all times, and he is glad to be there….And such a man now comes to live with God.  He has blessed communion with him; he talks with him as a man talks with his friend.’ [23]

Before we leave the subject of the relation between the doctrines of grace and evangelism we must hear a characteristic reply from Spurgeon to the objection that ‘Calvinistic’ belief must prove an obstacle to practical endeavor in Gospel witness.  The objection has not infrequently been regarded as so valid that theological criticisms of Arminian evangelism have been impatiently set aside, the presumption being that if it were not for such evangelism there would be not evangelical endeavor at all.  Spurgeon met this prejudice by turning from theories about the supposed effects of faith in God’s electing love to the historical evidence of evangelistic zeal found in those whose theology was contrary to Arminianism.  Upon this evidence he loved to expatiate:

‘The greatest missionaries that have ever lived have believed in God’s choice of them; and instead of this doctrine leading to inaction, it has ever been an irresistible motive power, and it will be so again.  It was the secret energy of the Reformation.  It is because free grace has been put into the background that we have seen so little done in so many places.  It is in God’s hand the great force which can stir the church of God to its utmost depth.  It may not work superficial revivals, but for deep work it is invaluable.  Side by side with the blood of Christ it is the world’s hope.  How can men say that the doctrine of distinguishing grace makes men careless about souls?  Did they never hear of the evangelical band which was called the Clapham sect?  Was Whitefield a man who cared nothing for the salvation of the people?  He who flew like a seraph throughout England and America unceasingly proclaiming the grace of God, was he selfish?  Yet he was distinctly a free-grace preacher.  Did Jonathan Edwards have no concern for the souls of others?  Oh, how he wept, and cried, and warned them of the wrath to come!  Time would fail me to tell of the lovers of men who have been lovers of this truth.’ [24]

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Notes

[1]  The same difficulty is raised when it is asked, How can men be responsible when they perish in sin if grace alone can prevent such an end?  ‘Someone says, “But I do not understand this doctrine.”  Perhaps not, but remember that, while we are bound to tell you the truth, we are not bound to give you the power to understand it; and besides, this is not a subject for understanding, it is a matter for believing because it is revealed in the Word of God.  It is one of the axioms of theology that, if man be lost, God must not be blamed for it; and it is also an axiom of theology that, if man is saved, God must have all the glory of it.’  56, 294.
[2]  8, 405.
[3]  8, 408.
[4]  19, 280.
[5]  23, 428.
[6]  34, 473-4.  Many similar quotations could be given.  ‘I must confess,’ he says, ‘my preference for these old-fashioned forms of conviction:  it is my judgment that they produce better and more stable believers than the modern superficial methods.’  30, 446-7.
[7]  23, 647.
[8]  36, 691.
[9]  28, 255.
[10]  24, 526.
[11]  ibid.
[12]  52, 163.
[13]  56, 290.
[14]  35, 222.
[15]  8, 403
[16]  Perfectionism, 1931, I, 315.
[17]  Holiness, 5th ed., 1900, viii.  This preface is omitted from the modern reprint.
[18]  34, 364.
[19]  30, 245.
[20]  30, 447.  In his book, Truth and Error, Horatius Bonar summarized the cause of this growing habit:  ‘Our whole anxiety is, not how shall we secure the glory of Jehovah, but how shall we multiply conversions?  The whole current of our thoughts and anxieties takes this direction. We cease to look at both things together; we think it enough to keep the one of them alone in our eye; and the issue is that we soon find ourselves pursuing ways of our own.  We thus come to measure the correctness of our plans, simply by their seeming to contribute to our favorite aim.  We estimate the soundness of our doctrine, not from its tendency to exalt and glorify Jehovah, but entirely by the apparent facility with which it enables us to get sinners to turn from their ways.  The question is not asked concerning any doctrine, Is it in itself a God-honouring truth, but will it afford us facilities for converting souls?’ 1861 edition, 16.
[21]  38, 434.
[22]  36, 688.
[23]  50, 79-80.
[24]  34, 372.