I Have Learned to Be Content
The Rare Jewel of Christian Contentment, by Jeremiah Burroughs
Reviewed by Rick Saenz

Taken together, the works of the Puritans are so broad in their scope, so rich in their language, so meticulous in their detail, and so varied in their approach, that it is a difficult thing to choose a single one to begin your reading of them. Some books excel in their exposition of Scripture, some in their systematizing of doctrine, some in their literary qualities, and some in their pastoral concern. It is unreasonable to expect any one book to be represen- tative of such a varied canon. And yet such rare jewels do exist, Burrough's book on contentment being one of them. Its language is accessible, its tone is pastoral, its organization is straightfor- ward, and its topic is an urgent one for present-day Christians to study. It's cheap, too, having been published by Banner of Truth as one of their series of Puritan Paperbacks. I strongly recommend it for an initial encounter with Puritan thought.

One admirable characteristic of Puritan writers is that they didn't bother keeping the reader in suspense; you can learn an awful lot from a Puritan book by reading its table of contents. Burroughs uses his not only to inform us of the topics he will be exploring—the defi- nition of contentment, what Christ had to say about content- ment, the excellence of contentment, what's bad about murmuring, what leads us to murmur, how we excuse our discontent, practical measures for developing contentment—but to list the conclu- sions that he reaches on each topic. It is not only an excellent preparation for in-depth reading, it makes it easy to refresh your memory about what you have read, and possible to find the sections you want to re-read.

Burroughs' exposition is always straightforward, often poetic. He begins by laying out a clear, precise, yet loving definition of contentment—"that sweet, inward, quiet, gracious frame of spirit, which freely submits to and delights in God's wise and fatherly disposal in every condition"—and proceeds to examine each part of this definition in detail, but not without a pastoral explanation of why he thinks it is an important endeavor—"l shall break open this description, for it is a box of precious ointment, and very comforting and useful for troubled hearts in troubled times and conditions."

This book was written during a troubled time, when the energy of the English Reformation was threatening to explode what unity existed among Protestant believers. Burroughs' troubles are not our troubles, but his book explores the understandings and atti- tudes which are to guide the Christian through troubles of any sort. The text lie takes as his starting point is Paul's statement in Philippians 4:11: "1 have learned, in whatsoever state I am, there- with to be content." He describes this statement as "a very timely cordial to revive the drooping spirits of the saints in these sad and sinking times." The Rare .Jewel of Christian Contentment is another such cordial, and we would be wise to drink deeply of it as we face these sad and sinking times of our own.

Saving the World, One Peace at a Time
The Napoleon of Notting Hill, by G.K. Chesterton
Reviewed by R.C. Sproul Jr.

Truth be told, in my business I receive a lot of books. Sometimes I get them in the forni of manuscripts, because someone wants an endorsement. Sometimes I get the finished product, because someone wants a review. The best free books I get, however, are when a friend sends a book, just because they liked it. I was first introduced to my favorite post-Tridentine fish-eater, Chesterton, when a friend sent a mammoth box full of his writ- ings, and related materials. (Including, among other things, that great collection of essays on Chesterton, Elliot, Lewis, Sayers and others, Permanent Things, which several of our students have profited from, and a terrific biography of Muggeridge.) Then another friend, (Trish, the winner of the old band contest we had) sent me the object of my review. What an unexpected delight.

Chesterton's novels were to me akin to the bear's chairs. First I read The Man Who Was Thursday. It confused me all the way to Sunday. Too hard. (Another advantage of my jobs- I wrote George Grant and asked for a Cliff's Notes explanation, and he actually gave it to me.) Then, while I greatly enjoyed the Father Brown stories, they weren't terribly didactic. Too soft. This book is just right. What we get in this novel is an understandable work that shows us not only what distributivism is all about, but why it is worth fighting for. For those who don't know what distributivism is, think Agrarianism in London. Think local trade, local affinities, local loyalties. Then you have something of the picture. Our Napoleon might just as well have been Robert E. Lee, only not quite so grave.

Our main character kicks the plot into gear when he niakes the fatal mistake of actually believing in the pomp and pageantry, the heroism and the heraldry of his own slice of London. That child-like faith grows into a heroic child-like faith as our hero establishes an independent nation, right there in Notting Hill, a London suburb. What follows is a war fought the proper way, not through dirty bombs or sniart bombs, but battle axes and swords. That which is small and local fights to defend itself against that which is gargantuan and distant, by fighting small and local fights.

I cannot tell you the end, who wins, at least of this story. But on the grand scale, it reminds us that the battle is the small scale. It reminds us that there will only be a universal recognition of the reign of Christ not when 900 foot Jesus squeezes into the UN building, but when every family, in every neighborhood bows their knees and confesses that He is Lord. Here is soniething for all Reformed folk, TR's CR's and BR's, to learn, one church at a time. In short, here is a short book that makes a short point, and niakes those who read it stand that much taller.