Dr. D. Martyn Lloyd-Jones: His Life and Ministry
by Sir Fred Catherwood
With the death of Dr. Martyn Lloyd-Jones, a great pillar of the 20th century
evangelical church has been removed. A pillar, however, is too static a metaphor
to describe such a figure, for his spiritual and intellectual leadership created
a new dynamic which owed little to the church he entered in the mid-twenties. By
the fifties its full impact had been felt; by then there were ministers not only
in Britain but around the world, who understood and preached a full-blooded
gospel. That gospel once more rested fairly and squarely on the framework of
reformation theology, based on the sure foundation of apostolic and biblical
authority, and irradiated by the example of 18th century evangelism.
Dr. Lloyd-Jones was brought up in Welsh Calvinistic Methodism, first as a boy in
Wales and then as a teenager and student in London, when the Charing Cross
Chapel, which his family attended, was living on the left-over emotion of the
Welsh revival. There was little doctrine to counter the rising trend of
liberalism or to bring out the distinction between church-goers and true
Christians. The three Lloyd-Jones boys enjoyed intellectual debate, but each was
more committed to his career than to his professed faith.
Martyn's career was medicine. He went from school to Barts, one of the great
London teaching hospitals, and was brilliantly successful. He succeeded in his
exams so young that he had to wait to take his MD, by which time he was already
chief clinical assistant to Sir Thomas Horder, one of the best and most famous
doctors of the day. By the age of 26 he also had his MRCP and was well up the
rungs of the Harley Street ladder, with a brilliant and lucrative career in
front of him. Then something happened.
Slowly, reading for himself, his mind was gripped by the Christian gospel, its
compelling power and its balanced logic, like the majestic self-supporting
arches of a great cathedral. He had no dramatic crisis of conversion, but there
came a point when he had committed himself entirely to the Christian gospel.
After that, as he sat in the consulting room, listening to the symptoms of those
who came to see him, he realised that what so many of his patients needed was
not ordinary medicine, but the gospel he had discovered for himself. He could
deal with the symptoms, but the worry, the tension, the obsessions could only be
dealt with by the power of Christian conversion. Increasingly he felt that the
best way to use his life and talents was to preach that gospel.
At the same time he faced another crisis. He wanted to marry Bethan Phillips,
who attended Charing Cross with her parents and two brothers. Her father was a
well-known eye specialist and Bethan was about to qualify as a doctor at
University College Hospital. After what had been a long courtship he told her
that he wanted to give up Harley Street and become, a Minister. After a year in
which God clearly guided her too, they married and in 1927, after their
honeymoon in Torquay, they moved in to their first home, a small manse in
Aberavon, beside Port Talbot.
The dramatic move of the young Harley Street specialist and his new bride could
hardly fail to attract attention and the press descended on them. Mrs.
Lloyd-Jones once turned a reporter away at the front door with 'no comment' and
was horrified to read the headline next day ' 'My husband is a wonderful man'
says Mrs. Lloyd-Jones.'
The press description of the solidly built two storey Manse as a 'dock-side
cottage' did not go down very well with the office bearers. The local doctors
were not too happy with the new arrival either. They felt certain that he had
come to show them up and poach their patients. It could all have gone sour. But
it didn't.
Dr. Lloyd-Jones was not another young minister fresh out of a liberal
theological college, trimming his message to contemporary opinion and the
prejudices of his congregation. He was determined to preach the message with the
crystal clarity in which it had come to him. That was too much for some of the
congregation and they left. But in their place - slowly at first- there came
increasing numbers who were gripped by the truth, the working class of South
Wales. The message brought them and the power of the Holy Spirit converted them.
There were no dramatic appeals, just a young man with the clear message of God's
justice and his love, which brought one hard case after another to repentance
and conversion.
He was not able to throw off his medical career entirely. In the South Wales of
Cronin's The Citadel his brilliant diagnostic skill was in short supply. After a
few years during which he was deliberately ignored by the local medical
fraternity, he was called to a case which defied diagnosis. He knew exactly the
nature of the obscure disease, from which the patient would apparently recover
and then die. His prognosis was borne out exactly and the general practitioner
said: 'I should go down on my knees to ask your forgiveness for what I've said
about you.' After that it was difficult to keep down the medical calls on his
time.
The church in Aberavon grew with the steady stream of conversions. Notorious
drunkards became glorious Christians and working men and women came to the Bible
classes which he and his wife conducted to learn the doctrines of their
new-found faith. And around South Wales, other churches, often starved of sound
teaching and of preaching which dealt with the world as it was in the depth of
the great slump, invited him to their pulpits. His reputation grew across the
Principality - and outside.
The evangelical with perhaps the greatest national standing in the thirties was
G. Campbell Morgan, Minister of Westminster Chapel. When he heard Martyn
Lloyd-Jones, he wanted to have him as his colleague and successor in 1938. But
it was not so easy, for there was also a proposal that he be appointed Principal
of the Theological College at Bala; and the call of Wales and of training a new
generation of ministers for Wales was strong. In the end the call from
Westminster Chapel prevailed and the Lloyd-Jones family with their daughters,
Elizabeth and Ann, were finally committed to London in April 1939. He had begun
his ministry there, on a temporary basis, in September 1938.
Campbell Morgan personified the evangelical tradition after Spurgeon. He was an
Arminian and his Bible exposition, though famous, did not deal in the great
doctrines of the Reformation. Martyn Lloyd-Jones was in the tradition of
Spurgeon, Whitefield, the Puritans and the Reformers. Yet the two men respected
each other's positions and talents and their brief partnership, until Campbell
Morgan died at the end of the war, was entirely happy.
September 1938 saw the Munich crisis and a very uncertain future for the new
ministry. For the next year the family lived with the Doctor's widowed mother in
Vincent Square and, when the war finally came, they moved to Haslemere in
Surrey. But the services at Westminster Chapel went on, apart from a brief time
in the Livingstone Hall, until in 1944 a flying bomb exploded on the Guards
Chapel a few hundred yards away, covering the Westminster Chapel preacher and
congregation in fine white dust. One member of the congregation opened her eyes
after the bang, saw everyone covered in white and decided that she must be in
heaven!
For the next year the services were again in the Livingstone Hall nearby.
Meantime the Doctor had become sole minister and had moved into a manse in
Ealing just as the flying bombs started to rain on London. But he, his family
and the Chapel were spared. He had been given an assurance by God that the
Chapel would not be destroyed.
London, the great metropolis, is a sink for provincial reputations. Great
Scottish orators have come to nothing in the face of sharp London audiences. The
bombing, the flying bombs and the difficulties of travel hit central London
churches and the new minister's style and message were not that of Dr. Campbell
Morgan. But Dr. Lloyd-Jones's preaching met a need and his reputation spread.
For everyone who left the Chapel, someone else arrived, so that by the end of
the war he had a firmly settled congregation and a well established position.
In his approach to the work of the pulpit Dr. Lloyd-Jones did not follow
Spurgeon. He believed in working steadily through a book of the Bible, taking a
verse or part of a verse at a time, showing what it taught, how that fitted into
teaching on the subject elsewhere in the Bible, how the whole teaching was
relevant to the problems of our own day and how the Christian position
contrasted with currently fashionable views.
He kept himself in the background and tried to show his congregation the mind
and word of God, letting the message of the Bible speak for itself. His
expository preaching aimed both to let God speak as directly as possible to the
man in the pew with the full weight of divine authority and also to minimise the
intervention of the preacher and the watering-down of the direct and
authoritative message by human intrusion and diversion.
His style was that of sharp clinical diagnosis, analysing the worldly view,
showing its futility in dealing with the power and persistence of evil, and
contrasting the Christian view, its logic, its realism and its power. He had the
ability to clothe his clinical analysis with vivid and gripping language, so
that it stayed in the mind. He could be scathing about the follies of the world
and give a contrasting vision of the wisdom and power of God in a way which
brought strong reaction from his audience. People would walk out, determined
never to come again; yet, despite themselves, they would be back in the pew the
next Sunday until, no longer able to resist the message, they became Christians.
After the war, the congregations grew quickly. In 1947 the balconies were opened
and from 1948 until 1968 when he retired, the congregation averaged perhaps 1500
on Sunday mornings and 2000 on Sunday nights.
Discussion classes
On Friday nights, he continued his Aberavon practice of discussion classes;
using the Socratic method, he made the members of the class work through the
logic of their own confident assertions. He would try to bring out contrasting
views, matching the proponents against each other, putting the objections and
solutions no one had thought of, until finally he led the class to a conclusion
with which few of them could by then disagree. He would himself confront the few
who could stand it, leading them inexorably down their own false trail to the
precipice at the bottom! Afterwards he would apologise and say: 'I know that a
lot of people hold the view you put, and I cannot be as brutal with them in
public as 1 have been with you, but 1 know you are big enough to take it!' In
the early fifties the Friday night discussion had become too big and there was a
demand for a straight Bible study, so in 1953 the Friday night Bible studies
took over for a much larger audience in the main church. He began with a series
on Biblical doctrine and then commenced the long study on Paul's letter to the
Romans which was subsequently published in book form.
At the beginning of the war Dr. Lloyd-Jones had become President of the
Inter-Varsity Fellowship of Evangelical Unions and was deeply involved in
advising and guiding their founder and General Secretary, Dr. Douglas Johnson.
In 1939 and then after the war, he and Douglas Johnson met with the leaders of
the movements of other countries and formed the International Fellowship of
Evangelical Students.
Both the British and the International movements have since grown greatly and
both owe a great deal to his formative influence. He encouraged them to add to
their pietism and evangelism a strong backbone of sound doctrinal teaching. To
those who argued that 'intellectualism' detracted from evangelistic zeal, he
pointed out that a sound basis of belief was the only sure foundation for
evangelism. This -change of emphasis was enormously important in the battle for
the minds of students and in ensuring that IVF was not a passing student
enthusiasm.
Utterly unimpressed
But Martyn Lloyd-Jones also made sure that IVF conceded nothing to the liberal
wing of the church. He took the view of Francis Bacon, the founding father of
modern science, that science was about secondary causes and that men had no
business to believe that they could enquire into the great primary cause beyond
what God had himself revealed.
He was utterly unimpressed by the theory of evolution well before scientists
themselves had begun to express doubts. For that reason, he saw no need for a
theory of 'creative evolution'. Theology came first. What were we taught about
the Creator in his own revelation to us? Theology must guide our attitude to
science, not the other way round. As a distinguished physician, trained in
medical science, and also a theologian, he could understand both theology and
science and his views carried weight. The IVF increased in strength, while in
course of time the once strong Student Christian Movement, with its liberal
views, faded from sight.
It was not long before this powerful leadership produced a group of young
ministers and theologians and a regular forum for discussion. This was the
Puritan Conference, which met regularly every December under his chairmanship.
In its early days some Anglicans were among the leading figures, as was lain
Murray. There was a strong feeling for the need to go back to the theological
foundations of the Protestant tradition, to the period when a hundred years
after the Reformation, its theological implications had been worked out. Papers
were read and discussed and Dr. Lloyd-Jones chaired the meetings with skill and
authority. The proceedings were good-humoured, but no one was allowed to get
away with slipshod thinking or to make theological slips.
The conference influenced scores of young ministers each year and established a
tough theological position in face of the rise of situational ethics and the
general repudiation of authority by the clerical establishment in the fifties
and sixties. The 'Banner of Truth' publishing house and The Evangelical Magazine
were both started with help and encouragement from Martyn Lloyd-Jones, who also
powerfully backed the work of the Evangelical Library.
On a pastoral level, he led a monthly ministers' fraternal since the early
forties, when pastors discussed all the problems they faced both within the
church and in its outreach. Here his ever widening experience, his profound
wisdom and his down-to-earth common sense helped many a young minister with
apparently unique and insoluble difficulties.
A strong character and a strong leader cannot avoid controversy. Believing, as
he did, in the power of the Holy Spirit to convict and convert, he was
profoundly opposed to the tradition which had grown up since Moody and Sankey of
large meetings with soft music and emotional appeals for conversion. Though he
never made any public criticism of particular evangelists, he never took part in
or supported the large crusades. Billy Graham came to see him at the Chapel in
the fifties, but though he never criticised the Graham crusades, he would not
support them either.
However, it was in his relations with the Church of England that the most
serious controversy came. Martyn Lloyd-Jones was a strong believer in
evangelical unity. He did not believe that denominational barriers should
separate those who had a true faith in common. And, as the ecumenical movement
gathered impetus and the liberal wing in the churches made greater and greater
concessions to the currents of worldly opinion, he came to believe that the
right answer was for the evangelicals to leave the compromised denominations and
form their own grouping. He had no illusions about the possible ultimate fate of
new church groupings. They might, in their own time, go astray. But he
maintained that each of us had to do the best for our own generation, regardless
of what might come later, and that the ecumenical movement put those who stood
for the long line of truly Christian theology and practice in an impossible
position.
The crisis came in a meeting chaired by the Rev. John Stott, leader of the
evangelical wing of the Church of England. Martyn Lloyd-Jones made an immensely
powerful appeal to his large audience to come out of the compromised
denominations. The meeting was a watershed. The evangelical Anglicans went one
way and evangelicals in the nonconformist churches went the other. When the
Congregational Union merged with the English Presbyterian Church, Westminster
Chapel left the Congregational Union and joined the Fellowship of Independent
Evangelical Churches. Many evangelical ministers in the Baptist Union and the
Methodist church left those bodies some with and some without their
congregations.
The British Evangelical Council linked the FIEC and other small evangelical
denominations. These churches have held their own in face of the secularist
trend, while the traditional nonconformist churches have gone into steep
decline. On the Anglican side, some evangelical theologians took a leading part
in attempting to find accommodation between the Evangelical, Anglo-Catholic and
Liberal wings and, most regretfully, the Puritan Conference to which they had
initially contributed, was disbanded. In its place, those who took the same view
of the ecumenical movement as Dr. Lloyd-Jones, formed the Westminster
Conference, which he continued to chair and lead with vigour. This avoided the
issue becoming a continual grumbling controversy between the majority opposed to
the ecumenical movement and the minority who believed in remaining in the
ecumenically-linked denominations.
He had always pointed to the combination in the Welsh Calvinistic Methodists of
the doctrine of the Calvinists and the enthusiasm of the Methodists. In the
sixties, he became anxious lest the newly recovered emphasis on sound reformed
doctrine should turn into an arid doctrinaire hardness. To counteract this
danger he began in his teaching to emphasise the importance of experience. He
spoke much of the necessity for experimental knowledge of the Holy Spirit, of
full assurance by the Spirit, and of the truth that God deals immediately and
directly with his children - often illustrating these things from church
history.
Early in 1968, in his 68th year, Dr. Lloyd-Jones had a major operation and,
though he recovered fully, he decided that the time had come after 30 years at
Westminster to retire as minister. His ministry had, on any reckoning, been
greatly blessed by God. There had been a steady stream of conversions, many
remarkable and, above all, a wide variety of people from all walks of life had
been taught the breadth and depth of Christian doctrine.
At the Chapel were soldiers from the nearby Wellington Barracks, workers from
west-end hotels and restaurants, nurses from the big hospitals, the 'Antioch
club' of actors and actresses from west-end theatres, civil servants junior and
senior from Whitehall, and chronically unemployed coming in from the Salvation
Army hostel. His last sermon, on June 8 1980 was preached in the church of a
minister who had come to the Chapel as a newly-converted building labourer, as
tough and sharp a young Cockney as you could find. Dr. Oliver Barclay, Douglas
Johnson's successor and General Secretary of IVF (now UCCF), used to attend the
Chapel and also his successor Dr. Robin Wells.
The church was always full of students, especially overseas students, among
which was the now President Moi of Kenya. The Chinese Church used to attend in
the morning and many Plymouth Brethren in the evening. When the Exclusive
Brethren split up, many who lived in London came to Westminster Chapel. And, of
course, there were many professional workers, teachers, lawyers, accountants and
perhaps more than a fair share of those who had some mental deficiency. Young
and old, rich and poor, men and women, bright and dull, all seemed to come in
equal measure to hear the Christian message put with a power and authority not
often matched.
All kinds and conditions of people came to see him in the vestry afterwards,
where he would spend hours patiently listening and wisely advising. One of them
has written: 'I have a lovely memory of going to him in deep personal need, yet
very afraid of his formidable public manner. His gentleness and winsome
kindliness, coupled with such straight simple advice, won my heart. His brain
and brilliance as a preacher earned respect and admiration; that other gentler
side, shown to me in private, made one love him.'
In the 12 years after his retirement he continued both the Fraternal and the
Westminster Conference and gave a great deal of his time to counselling other
ministers, answering letters and talking endlessly on the telephone. Freed from
the rigid routine of Sundays at Westminster he was then able to add to the
outside engagements he had taken as a minister, especially by taking weekends at
small and remote causes, which he loved to encourage.
After much protest, he began to do some television. When Joan Bakewell on late
evening TV said that she was surprised that anyone listened today to such
old-fashioned views, he said, 'They may be old-fashioned, but they can still
fill the Free Trade Hall in Manchester. Tell me a modern politician who can do
that.' Wherever he went, he filled the halls and churches.
He believed that, even in a secular age, people respond to the uncompromising
truth, - a view which was confirmed as he saw the liberal churches emptying and
the evangelicals maintaining their cause. He travelled to Europe and the United
States again, but refused new and return invitations to other countries.
Perhaps the most lasting result of these years was in the time it gave him to
turn his sermons into book form. He had already published a number of small
books such as Why does God allow war? and Spiritual Depression, which was a
best-seller. The first of the bigger books had been the two volumes of Studies
in the Sermon on the Mount. Now he set out to publish two series, on Ephesians
and on Romans, bringing out one or two books a year.
Although sermons are notoriously unpublishable today, all the volumes in these
series sell well throughout the English-speaking world, showing that there is a
real demand for reasoned, analytical and applied Bible exposition. He had many
letters from all corners of the earth. One day, for example, he was visited by
the Rev. Chuck Smith of Calvary Church, Costa Mesa, California, who told him
that the books had transformed his preaching. He had once driven himself into
mental breakdown trying to use his personality to put over the message. Since
then he had let the Bible speak for itself and said that both his ministry and
his own health had benefited enormously. What he did not say was that his Sunday
morning congregation was then up to 24,000!
Martyn Lloyd-Jones had a very happy home, which was open every Christmas to
those members of the church who had nowhere else to go. Before Christmas the
carollers from the church came to the manse after their rounds and the
conclusion of the evening was a fiercely fought table tennis match between the
minister and his wife, spurred on by the cheers of the party. In retirement he
used to take his older grandchildren on in argument. They were like young cubs
going for an old lion, daring where no one else would dare, thrown back by a
growl, but bounding in again at once.
In 1979 illness returned and he had to cancel all his engagements. He was
even-minded about the prospect of preaching again. He had seen too many men
going on well after they should have stopped. In the spring of 1980 he was able
to start again, but a visit to the Charing Cross Hospital in May revealed that
his illness demanded more stringent treatment which kept him from preaching.
Between wearing sessions in hospital, which he faced with courage and dignity,
he carried on working on his manuscripts and giving advice to ministers, but by
Christmas he was too weak for this. To the end, however, he was able to spend
time with his biographer (his former assistant, lain Murray).
Towards the end of February 1981, with great peace and assured hope, he believed
that his earthly work was done. To his immediate family he said: 'Don't pray for
healing, don't try to hold me back from the glory.' On March 1st, St. David's
Day and the Lord's Day - he passed on to the glory on which he had so often
preached to meet the Saviour he had so faithfully proclaimed.
This material originally appeared in the Christian monthly newspaper, the
Evangelical Times.