Edwards In the Hands of an Angry Mob

There is nothing to be gained by defending the character of slave holders.

I loved Beth Moore’s thread on Jonathan Edwards’ “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God” sermon. It’s got everything. Brave enough to drag Edwards. Vulnerable enough to come clean about what, in her own story, might contribute to her opinion. And, as in just about everything Beth has done in her whole entire life, clear-eyed enough to point to Jesus. 

You should really read the whole thread, but the tl;dr is that while “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God” might be the most famous sermon in American history, it’s a pretty long ways from the best. Reading over it now, you get the sense that Edwards takes an awful lot of glee in excoriating his audience’s wickedness. “The God that holds you over the pit of hell, much as one holds a spider or some loathsome insect over the fire, abhors you, and is dreadfully provoked,” Edwards told his audience in 1741. “You are 10,000 times more abominable in his eyes than the most hateful venomous serpent is in ours.”

Reports at the time tell stories of Edwards being frequently interrupted by an audience in the throes of terror, shouting “what must I do to be saved?” even as he spun stories about the horrors that were deservedly in their future. Even if we can allow that those reports might have been a little exaggerated, nobody questions that the sermon was instrumental in kicking off the Great Awakening. 

So, it’s considered a little impolite to pull at that thread. But pull Moore did. “I was so broken & self-loathing & ensnared in my sins, such preaching would’ve made me feel like dying. Like running away, not running toward God,” she wrote. 

“I was such a messed up kid. So much shame. I could not stop making terrible decisions. Such an unstable, boundary-less home. What drew me to God was merciful beautiful Jesus. Yes, Jesus who could warn the ever living fire out of you but Jesus who could tell you everything you’d ever done yet somehow, in doing so, be alight with such holy love toward you, that his confrontation gives you dignity you need to feel like maybe, in him—in his eyes—you’re worth saving.”

Of course, criticizing Edwards rubbed a lot of people the wrong way. There’s a reflexive corner of social media that would fill their diapers with fury if Beth posted “I like music.” But going after a guy as venerated as Jonathan Edwards is bound to push buttons, even if the take is as obviously correct as Moore’s was here.

As near as I can figure, the responses fall into three different camps. Two of them are ridiculous. The last is a little more interesting.