I am rather a skeptic when it comes to many of the claims of global warming and environmentalism. However, this skepticism about the prognostications of doom and gloom does not indicate that I am unconcerned about the planet we live on. It is quite the opposite, really. I want my skepticism to allow me to find better solutions than those posited by the green movement. I want my diagnosis of the problem and my understanding of solutions to be grounded in the Bible. I have been helped here by Francis Schaeffer and his book Pollution and the Death of Man. It is, in my assessment, still one of the best treatments of a Christian understanding of creation care.

Schaeffer begins with the reassurance that as Christians we are able to acknowledge what today’s secular humanists cannot: That mankind has been called by God to exercise dominion over the earth. We are not here by chance and we are not here by mistake. We were placed here by God to care for this planet and have been called to be faithful stewards of it. But like everything else in this world, our ability to exercise this kind of stewardship has been affected by our sinful state. “By creation man has dominion, but as a fallen creature he has used that dominion wrongly. Because he is fallen, he exploits created things as thought they were nothing in themselves, and as though he has an autonomous right to them.” We no longer consistently tend the world in love, but instead ravage and pillage it. Though we may not believe in all of the dire claims being made about the state of our planet and its perilous future, we must at least acknowledge that we have not cared for the world as God has called us to.

The answers to this crisis lie not in our own efforts and not in the dictums of former Vice Presidents. Rather, if we are to understand the crisis, its roots, and its solutions, we must turn to Scripture. And this is precisely what Schaeffer does. Though his book was originally published in 1970, it reads as if it was written yesterday (if, that is, the reader is willing to replace the ecological crises of thirty years ago with those of our day, perhaps substituting global warming in place of DDT).

Schaeffer looks at the spirit of the day and examines how people are dealing with ecological issues. Perceptively, he understood that ecology, bereft of any firm, biblical foundation and without any consistent basis for morality, must breed a kind of pantheism. He saw that people would deal with environmental issues by making themselves one with the planet and it one with them, and this decades before the film Avatar. He responds with classic Schaefferian thought: “Pantheism,” he says, “will be pressed as the only answer to ecological problems and will be one more influence in the West’s becoming increasingly Eastern in its thinking.” Almost forty years later, his words have proven true. Witness the rise of Yoga right alongside and intertwined with the rise of the green movement.

William Cowper was keenly aware of the truth that God moves in mysterious ways. His life, as John Piper describes it in his biography of Cowper, seems to have been “one long accumulation of pain,” especially mental pain. But this hymn writer trusted by faith—not perfectly, but perseveringly—that in this mysterious and maddening providence, God was working wonders.

Cowper was born in 1731 in Berkhamsted, England. His mother died when he was only 6 years old, leaving him to be raised by his father. Unfortunately, it seems that he had an unhealthy relationship with his father, who may also have contributed to Cowper’s difficulties by pushing him into practicing law. He would abandon this career in his early 30s.

The mental pain Cowper struggled with was primarily depression. He had four major battles with it through his life, leading him to attempt suicide on several occasions. He was never successful, however, and God would preserve his life until death by dropsy in 1800, aged 69.

Cowper apparently became a believer in 1764 while in residence at St. Albans Insane Asylum. He happened upon a Bible on a bench in the garden, and God used John 11 and Romans 3:25 to open his eyes to the goodness of Jesus and the sufficiency of his atoning work.

After his conversion, Cowper’s fellowship was primarily with Christians on the Calvinistic side of the Evangelical Revival that was taking place in the Church of England at that time. Throughout the rest of his life he remained convinced of God’s sovereignty and goodness, even if at times he had great difficulty believing he himself was a beneficiary of them.

Cowper’s hymn writing came as a result of his friendship with John Newton. They became friends in 1767 when Cowper moved to Olney, England to be under Newton’s ministry.

Newton saw Cowper’s bent to melancholy and reclusiveness and drew him into the ministry of visitation as much as he could. They would take long walks together between homes and talk of God and his purposes for the church. Then in 1769 Newton got the idea of collaborating with Cowper on a book of hymns to be sung by their church. He thought it would be good for Cowper’s poetic bent to be engaged.

In the end Newton wrote about 208 hymns and Cowper wrote 68. The hymnal was published in 1779. Besides “Amazing Grace,” Newton wrote “How Sweet the Name of Jesus Sounds” and “Glorious Things of Thee Are Spoken” and “Come, My Soul Thy Suit Prepare.” Cowper wrote “God Moves in a Mysterious Way” and “There is a Fountain Filled with Blood” and “O for a Closer Walk with God.” (Piper)

The hymn “God Moves in a Mysterious Way” is a combination of assertions about God’s goodness, sovereignty and wisdom along with commands to take courage and trust in him. Cowper’s use of the metaphors of storms, mines, smiles, and flowers illustrate this meaning in a timeless way. The hymn is a beautiful expression of the kind of faith that sustained Cowper through long periods of darkness and despair.

We cannot yet claim to know all the mysteries of God’s plan for William Cowper’s life. In time, as Cowper himself says, God will make plain his bright designs. But until then we can praise God for one of the fruits that is already evident—this hymn. Only he knows how many saints have had their faith sustained amidst storms and sorrows by these words. It reminds us that many of the greatest hymns grow out of life’s most difficult circumstances.

God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea
And rides upon the storm.

Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never failing skill
He treasures up His bright designs
And works His sovereign will.

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy and shall break
In blessings on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.

His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.

Blind unbelief is sure to err
And scan His work in vain;
God is His own interpreter,
And He will make it plain.

The Bibliotheca Laurentiana at Florence is a repository for ancient writing. It contains a vast collection of more than 11,000 manuscripts and 4,500 early printed books. None is more precious than the fine volume labeled Codex Amiatinus. This is the most celebrated of the myriad manuscripts of the Latin Vulgate Bible and an important witness to the history of the Christian church. It is the fifth of the twenty-five objects through which we are tracing the history of Christianity.

As the Christian church grew and matured and moved beyond its infancy, early believers had to grapple with many theological questions and controversies. Creeds and councils were convened. Debates raged. Every Christian turned to the Bible to support his beliefs and yet a foundational question remained: What was the Bible? Codex Amiatinus is an important part of the answer.

In 382, Pope Damascus I concluded that the church was in desperate need of a new translation of the Scriptures. The church had begun to divide into two parts, the Latin-speaking church of the West and the Greek-speaking church of the East. As the Western church distanced itself from the East, it also distanced itself from the Greek language. As knowledge of Greek faded, the Greek New Testament and the Septuagint translation of the Old Testament were no longer easily understood. Meanwhile, even though there were many translations of the Bible into Latin, none of them was of good quality. For these reasons Pope Damascus commissioned a new, authoritative translation of the entire Bible.

Jerome, a scholar from northern Italy who was skilled in both Hebrew and Greek, was assigned to this task. He had at first intended to translate the Old Testament from the Greek Septuagint, but as he worked he came to see that the Septuagint had many weaknesses. For that reason he reached back to the Hebrew text to “give my Latin readers the hidden treasures of Hebrew erudition.” He also realized that the Septuagint included several books, together called the apocrypha, that were absent from the Hebrew Old Testament. Jerome argued that Christians must follow Jews and exclude the apocryphal books from the Bible; it was only in 1546 at the Council of Trent, that the Roman Catholic Church would decree that the apocrypha was also part of the inspired text.

If you know anything at all about the new Pope, Pope Francis, you must know this: he is the humble Pope. From the day of his election he has been widely praised for his humility. A recent article from The Washington Post is representative, lauding him for his humble deeds.

Over the past two weeks, with one act of humility after another, Pope Francis has proven he's willing to break with tradition. Just after being named the new pontiff, he asked the faithful to pray for him, rather than the other way around. He's refused to stand on the customary platform above other archbishops and dressed himself in simpler vestments than his predecessors. He's made a practice of shunning the rich trappings of the position, from paying his own hotel bill to opting out of the palatial apartment popes have lived in for a century in favor of simpler digs.

On Maundy Thursday it is traditional for the Pope to wash the feet of a dozen people. Where Popes have traditionally washed the feet of priests, Francis chose to wash the feet of twelve juvenile inmates. Such deeds are consistent with his legacy from Argentina where he was reputed to fly coach instead of first class and to ride public transit between home and office. These are the deeds that have proven so attractive and that stand in stark contrast to many of his predecessors.

What is humility? Humility, in the words of Wayne Mack, “consists in an attitude wherein we recognize our own insignificance and unworthiness before God and attribute to Him the supreme honor, praise, prerogatives, rights, privileges, worship, devotion, authority, submission, and obedience that He alone deserves. It also involves a natural, habitual tendency to think and behave in a manner that appropriately expresses this attitude.” Mack gets straight to the heart of humility when he shows that it is expressed before God before it is expressed before man. Humility before others must grow out of humility before God. If we are fundamentally proud before God, we simply cannot be humble before man.

Like any of us, Pope Francis can only be humble—truly humble—if he first attributes to God “the supreme honor, praise, prerogatives, rights, privileges, worship, devotion, authority, submission, and obedience that He alone deserves.” Yet Roman Catholic doctrine, and especially doctrine related to the papacy, steals from the honor, rights, prerogatives and authority of Jesus Christ and attributes them instead to the Pope. By definition and by Catholic dogma, Francis is no humble Pope.

The Vicar of Christ

According to the Catechism of the Roman Catholic Church, the most fundamental claim about the Pope is that he is the Vicar of Christ. “For the Roman Pontiff, by reason of his office as Vicar of Christ, and as pastor of the entire Church has full, supreme and universal power over the whole Church, a power which he can always exercise unhindered.” A vicar is a substitute (as we see in the word vicarious), which means, according to James White, that the Pope “functions in the place of Christ as the earthly head of the Church as Christ is the heavenly leader.” The Pope claims to be Christ’s representative on earth, left here to rule the Church. Yet this claim demeans the role of the Holy Spirit, for it is the Spirit to whom Christ has entrusted his church. As White says, “The truth of the matter is that the Holy Spirit’s role has been taken over by the hierarchy of the Church, and the individual Christian is subject to that authority as a matter of his eternal salvation.” Pope Francis proclaims that he is Christ’s Vicar on earth and that he, like Christ, has supreme and unhindered authority on earth.

The humble Pope must revoke his blasphemous claim to supremacy and instead direct people to the care of the Holy Spirit.

Augustus Toplady was born in England in 1740. His father was a Royal Marine and died on duty soon after his son’s birth, leaving the boy to be raised by his mother. Toplady had an interest in religion during his younger years, and showed this in spiritual journals and moralistic behavior. However, it wasn’t until his fifteenth year, while attending a Methodist revival in an Irish barn, that he felt “brought nigh to God.” It was at this point that he determined to go into ministry.

Having been converted under Methodism, Toplady initially aimed to become a Methodist minister. This changed, however, when he began to consider more closely the distinctions between Arminianism and Calvinism. The Methodist movement was decidedly Arminian, and Toplady, as an offspring of that movement, initially adopted that understanding. But, as Louis Benson writes, after he studied the 39 Articles of the Church of England, he became convinced of the Calvinistic perspective and thus became a minister in the Church of England.

The issue of Calvinism versus Arminianism was a hot topic in the church in those days, and for the remainder of his life Toplady would write and debate on the subject, arguing at length (and at times viciously) for the doctrine of election. Unfortunately, towards the end of his short life, the debate grew increasingly ugly, resulting in a major and public rift between him and John Wesley that would never find resolution.

Toplady died in 1778 (aged 38) from tuberculosis. He never married, his life and ministry were short, and he certainly had his share of flaws. But God was pleased to use him to write a hymn that would so powerfully communicate the gospel and encourage the saints that his name and story have been preserved to this day.

The Hymn

Toplady wrote a number of hymns in his life, but “Rock of Ages” is by far his most famous. When Benson wrote about it in 1923, he claimed it “is to-day in more church hymnals than is any other English hymn.” Not only is it well know among churchgoers, but it is also recognizable in popular culture. A 2006 Broadway musical about rock ‘n roll (and a corresponding Hollywood film in 2012) adopted the name “Rock of Ages.”

As for the hymn, the first stanza appeared in public in 1775 in a periodical called The Gospel Magazine (a periodical which, incredibly, is still in print!). The full version of the hymn was printed the following year in Toplady’s book Psalms and Hymns for Public and Private Worship.

There is a common story of the hymn being inspired by (and even written from within) a rock cleft that Toplady once took refuge in during a storm. The particular rock is in Burrington Combe gorge in North Somerset, England, and it has a plaque on it with this claim to fame. However, the story is probably apocryphal.

As Benson persuasively argues, Toplady was most likely inspired to write the hymn after reading the preface of John and Charles Wesleys’ Hymns on the Lord’s Supper (1745) which contains a prayer voicing many of the themes and words that are also found in the hymn. This is ironic, given the poor condition of Toplady’s relationship with John Wesley; but one can perhaps see the hand of God in it.

Regardless of where and how Toplady got his inspiration, the hymn is a blessing. For generations it has remained a solid testimony to the powerful sacrifice of our Savior and a great encouragement to saints around the world. May God continue its influence, and grant us many more songs with such enduring legacies.

Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
let me hide myself in thee;
let the water and the blood,
from thy wounded side which flowed,
be of sin the double cure;
save from wrath and make me pure.

Not the labors of my hands
can fulfill thy law’s commands;
could my zeal no respite know,
could my tears forever flow,
all for sin could not atone;
thou must save, and thou alone.

Nothing in my hand I bring,
simply to the cross I cling;
naked, come to thee for dress;
helpless, look to thee for grace;
foul, I to the fountain fly;
wash me, Savior, or I die.

While I draw this fleeting breath,
when mine eyes shall close in death,
when I soar to worlds unknown,
see thee on thy judgment throne,
Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
let me hide myself in thee.

I have spent the past few days in Orlando at the Gospel Coalition Conference. As it always the case when I am at a major conference, I have spent a lot of my time in the bookstore. There is something therapeutic about wading through a massive bookstore, and especially so when the bookstore is so big and so good.

Sometimes I can find myself getting a little bit skeptical about the sheer quantity of books being produced today. If all those thousands of years ago the Sage was already lamenting “Of making many books there is no end” what would he say today? There is a book for everyone on very nearly every topic. And there are times when I find myself wondering if this is really a good thing.

Help has come from two unexpected directions. The first is in my use of the program Evernote. Evernote is software for note-taking and organizing. At first I used it sparsely and hesitatingly, only putting my most important ideas into it. But over time I came to see that Evernote works better when I put everything into it, whether it is something I deem of critical importance or low importance. Rather than trusting myself to be the ultimate filter, I do better to put everything into the software and then to allow Evernote’s filters to separate what is needed from what is not. The lesson learned is that with good filters, more information is better than less information. Therefore, a greater number of books can be more helpful than fewer books, as long as we learn to filter effectively.

The second help has come from Thomas Manton, a Puritan, who tells us that people in his day were asking the same question: Do we really need more books? Here is his response:

All complain there is enough written, and think that now there should be a stop. Indeed, it were well if in this scribbling age there were some restraint. Useless pamphlets are grown almost as great a mischief as the erroneous and profane.

Yet tis not good to shut the door upon industry and diligence. There is yet room left to discover more, above all that hath been said, of the wisdom of God and the riches of his grace in the gospel; yea, more of the stratagems of Satan and the deceitfulness of man's heart. Means need to be increased every day to weaken sin and strengthen trust, and quicken us to holiness.

Fundamentals are the same in all ages, but the constant necessities of the church and private Christians, will continually enforce a further explication. As the arts and slights [expertise] of besieging and battering increase, so doth skill in fortification. If we have no other benefit by the multitude of books that are written, we shall have this benefit: an opportunity to observe the various workings of the same Spirit about the same truths, and indeed the speculation is neither idle nor unfruitful.

In more books, Manton saw more opportunities for us to learn from one another. The Holy Spirit works in each one of us very differently and what he teaches one he may not teach another, unless that person writes in a book and we read it. I can’t argue with him. There is something to this that takes direct aim at my skepticism.

This is not a call for mediocre books, of course, or for writing simply for the sake of writing. But it has helped shape my view that all of these books represent a tremendous blessing. My skepticism was misplaced.

Almost 2,000 years ago, a Christian named Paul wrote a letter to a group of people in Corinth, a city in Greece. People in that city had at one time been enthusiastic about the Christian faith, but had then begun to have some second thoughts. They had written a letter to Paul to ask something like, "You told us that this man Jesus died and then came back to life. We're pretty sure you don't actually expect us to believe that a man was dead and then alive again. That must have been some kind of a metaphor or a moral, right?"

But Paul doesn't blink. He says, "Yes, that is exactly what I am saying." In this letter to those Christians he affirms again and again that Jesus really and actually died. Paul is concerned that these people in Corinth are faltering in what they believe about the resurrection and he addresses them in an interesting way. He says, "Okay, so you think that dead people simply cannot come back to life. Well why don't we just take a moment to consider that. Let's consider the implications if that is true." He does this in 1 Corinthians 15:12-19.

I find it very interesting that he approaches things in this way. You and I need to think about the implications of what we believe, or what we don't believe, or what we refuse to believe. Sometimes we have these little dangling threads in what we believe and we just haven't considered them properly. What Paul does here is say, "Let's think about what will happen if we say that dead people don't ever come back to life. Let's just ponder that for a few minutes." He begins to tug on that loose thread.

We Worship A Dead Man

"If there is no resurrection of the dead, then not even Christ has been raised." If there is no resurrection, then Jesus Christ has not risen from the dead. We worship a dead man. Jesus went to the cross, he died, he was buried, and his body decayed to dust just like everyone else's. Christians are followers of a dead man.

The Christian faith is unique in claiming that its great teacher is not only a man but also God; it is unique in claiming that its great teacher not only died but was resurrected. But if there is no resurrection, suddenly the Christian faith is unique only in a few small points, but really, it is pretty much the same as every other faith. We are people who put our hope in a guru, a spiritual leader, who lived and then died. While he lived he taught us some good lessons and helped us see how to live a good and moral life. But then his time was over and he died and is gone. And now we are left trying to be like him, trying to model ourselves after him so we can be good like he was good.

We Preach an Empty Message

The second consequence flows right out of the first. If there is no resurrection, Christ has not been raised. And, says Paul, "If Christ has not been raised, then our preaching is in vain." If there is no resurrection, Paul has been preaching an empty message. His preaching is useless and a waste of everybody's time. He isn't talking so much about the form of preaching here -- standing in front of a church to explain and apply the Bible -- but the message. If Christ has not been resurrected, then everything he has been preaching to this church is a waste. If you deny the resurrection, you have gutted the Christian faith and the whole Christian message is destroyed.

We Hold An Empty Faith

There is a third consequence that builds on these other two. "If Christ has not been raised, then our preaching is in vain and your faith is in vain." If Christ has not risen from the dead, our preaching is in vain. And if our preaching is in vain, anything you've learned from it and any way you live differently because of it is a waste of time. This is a necessary conclusion. You can't have it both ways.

Whatever you have done with the message that has come by way of preaching, however you have applied it to your life, is also just a complete waste. You have built your faith upon nonsense, upon something that is impossible, something that didn't actually happen. This is what the Apostle taught these people he loved. “Go ahead and deny that Jesus rose from the dead, but if you do that, you no longer have a faith worth holding to.”

We Misrepresent God

Here is the fourth consequence of refusing to believe that dead men can return to life. Verse 15: "We are even found to be misrepresenting God, because we testified about God that he raised Christ, whom he did not raise if it is true that the dead are not raised." If we have been teaching that God resurrected Jesus from the dead, and if that did not actually happen, we are misrepresenting God. We are false witnesses.

Paul reminds these people of the message he proclaimed to them right from the time he first met them. He had told them that a matter of first importance, utmost importance, is that Jesus rose from the dead. If this is not true, if God did not actually resurrect Jesus from the dead, then we are telling lies about him. We are telling lies about the Creator of the universe. If we do this, we are directly violating one of the ten commandments which says, "You shall not bear false witness." We are violating the warning of Proverbs 19:5, that "a false witness will not go unpunished, and he who breathes out lies will not escape."

Over the past few weeks I have found myself thinking a lot about love. C.S. Lewis told us that according to the Bible there are four kinds of love: phileo, eros, agape, and storge. But I haven't been thinking of love in such neat categories and under such clear headings. (Plus, D.A. Carson declared the clean boundaries between these four terms to be an exegetical fallacy and I would not dare to contradict him.) I have been thinking about all the different kinds of love I have been able to experience, I have been considering how each one is unique, and I have been pondering how together these loves point me to one that must envelop and transcend them all.

We all know what it is to love and what it is to be loved, but we also know that there are varieties of love and that each variety is a little different from the others. I love Cheetos but I love them in a different way than I love my children. I love my children but my love for them is very different than the love I have for my wife. We do not know all that love is from any single experience or any single relationship. Rather, it is experienced in many forms and displayed in many hues. God is love, which means he is the source of love, the only reason we can experience love. All I can conclude is that God has allowed us to enjoy many different loves and in the sheer variety to learn something about him.

Just one month ago my son, my oldest child, turned thirteen. With every passing birthday I find my love for him growing in depth and intensity. It is not the same love as it was on the day he was born or even on the day that he turned twelve. This love has changed, and has had to change, as he has grown into who he is and as he continues to grow into who he will be. I cannot easily define this love, but I can at least describe it. What was once the love of a father for his baby, a protective but still nurturing love, is turning into something equally protective but closer in proximity to friendship. I am his father still, but he and I are also becoming friends--friends who have common history and common interests. There is a new kind of protectiveness now. I would still throw myself in front of a bus if it would save him, but mostly that isn't the kind of saving he needs. I love him in such a way that I want to teach him how to avoid all those snares I blundered into when I was his age and when I was beyond his age. I want to protect him from his own lack of wisdom and all the pain I know must come as a result of it. It is a love that wants to teach and train and in that way to protect.

My oldest daughter is ten and I am discovering a whole new kind of love in her. I have heard of this love, the love of a father for his daughter. I see in her a love for me that is also unfamiliar. We are growing into it together. She loves me deeply and longs for my affection and approval and I love her in return. This is a love that is even more protective, the love that demands that I protect her from anyone who would harm her or try to take advantage of her. I have heard many fathers tell of the importance of being affectionate with their daughters and I am beginning to see it, to see how she longs for my hand to hold hers and my arms to surround her. Men who are wiser than I have told me that it is my love that will teach her the difference between real love and so many of its counterfeits. This is a love that is powerful and fierce and sweet and innocent and so very real.

Edward Perronet was born in England in 1726, the grandson of a French immigrant. His father, Vincent, was a clergyman in the Church of England and a close friend and associate of John and Charles Wesley. Though Edward had planned to follow his father into Anglican ministry, the influence of the Wesleys prevailed, and he became a traveling Methodist preacher.

Louis Benson records in his Studies of Familar Hymns, Second Series that Edward was a capable preacher and sincere follower of Christ. For some reason, however, he developed a strong antagonism towards the Church of England, and began to express it in his behavior and speech. This proved to be a source of trouble for the Wesleys. (Benson describes Edward as having an “irascible temper, an impatience of authority, and a touch of bitterness that grows with ‘not being understood’”) Edward eventually left the Methodist movement and settled down with a dissenting congregation, which he pastored until his death in 1792.

In addition to preaching, Edward was also a skilled writer; and in the latter years of his life he published anonymously, in a series of small books, a number of hymns he had composed. One of these books, Occasional Verses, Moral and Sacred, contains as its third entry the hymn titled “On the Resurrection,” which is now known as “All Hail the Power of Jesus’ Name.”

The Hymn

Below are the original lyrics to the hymn, as first published in Occasional Verses. The hymn was originally sung to the tune “Miles Lane,” written by a friend of Edward, William Shrubsole. Just a few years after its release Oliver Holden of Massachusets composed an alternate tune for it, “Coronation,” which is the melody most familiar to us in North America. One other melody, popular in Australia and with choirs, is “Diadem.”

All hail the power of Jesu’s name!
Let Angels prostrate fall;
Bring forth the royal diadem,
To crown Him Lord of All.

Let high-born Seraphs tune the lyre,
And, as they tune it, fall
Before His face who tunes their choir,
And crown Him Lord of All.

Crown Him, ye morning stars of light,
Who fix’d this floating ball;
Now hail the strength of Israel’s might,
And crown Him Lord of All.

Crown him, ye martyrs of your God,
Who from His altar call;
Extol the stem of Jesse’s rod,
And crown Him Lord of All.

Ye seed of Israel’s chosen race,
Ye ransom’d of the fall,
Hail Him who saves you by His grace,
And crown Him Lord of All.

Hail Him, ye heirs of David’s line,
Whom David Lord did call;
The God incarnate, man Divine;
And crown Him Lord of All.

Sinners! whose love can ne’er forget
The wormwood and the gall,
Go--spread your trophies at His feet,
And crown Him Lord of All.

Let every tribe, and every tongue,
That bound creation’s call,
Now shout in universal song,
The crowned Lord of All!

The Vatican Museum houses a vast collection of ancient objects related to the early history of the Christian church. Within that collection, on public display and remarkably intact despite its age, is an intricately carved sarcophagus--a box designed to hold human remains--that was discovered in Rome’s basilica di San Paolo fuori le Mura during its restoration in the 1800’s. Historians date it between 330 and 350 AD..

The outside of this sarcophagus is divided into an upper and lower tier and each is carved all around with biblical imagery drawn from both the Old and New Testaments. Among the scenes along the upper tier are God giving his Creation Mandate to Adam, the wedding at Cana, and the miracle of the loaves and the fish. Along the lower tier is the arrival of the Magi to worship the baby Jesus, the healing of the blind man, Jesus foretelling Peter’s denial, and Peter baptizing his jailers. In the middle of it all is an image of the Christian couple who commissioned this sarcophagus as their final resting place.

In all of this the sarcophagus is unremarkable, for many similar objects have survived to this day. What sets this one apart and helps us as we attempt to see the history of the church in 25 objects is the scene carved at the top-left of the upper tier: The creation of Eve. Adam lies on the ground in a deep sleep. Eve stands beside him with the hand of God upon her head as he brings her to life. And there above her is God displayed as three identical figures. Here is a representation of Creation by Father, Son and Holy Spirit. This sarcophagus, known as the Dogmatic Sarcophagus or Trinity Sarcophagus, is a visual representation of early Trinitarian theology. There is special historical significance in this portrayal of the three members of the Godhead involved in Creation and in the three being identical.