A Mind For The Times

A Mind For The Times

“Where is Timothy?” his mother and father wondered once again.

THE LAD was often late for dinner and predictably hard to find. When at last his parents found him, seated under an apple tree, he was teaching the catechism to a rapt congregation of New England Indians, whom he had met in the street and invited to discuss the Christian religion. Completely absorbed in his endeavor, Timothy Dwight had forgotten the hour. The particular event, though not out of character for the little boy, was highly unusual for someone his age—he was four years old.

Born in 1752, Timothy Dwight, the grandson of Jonathan Edwards, was a child prodigy. Between the ages of four and eleven, he was schooled in classical literature, taught himself Latin and studied geography, grammar, biblical history and the histories of England, Rome, and ancient Greece. At eleven he was tutored in Latin and Greek, and at thirteen he entered Yale. He graduated at seventeen, continued graduate study, and became a hired tutor at the college.

It was an amazing record—but with sorrowful side effects. The four-year-old who chose teaching the catechism to eating supper became an adult enslaved to intellectual achievement. He gave up physical exercise and cut back on eating and sleeping for increased study time. After ignoring his body for the sake of his mind, he was sick for months and nearly died. He was left nearly blind, never again to read without terrible pain and headaches or write without help to record his dictation.

But Dwight served a God who works good out of all things. Since he could no longer read, he went outdoors, where he could talk to people. Instead of learning from old dusty theology books, he learned from the man on the street. The long-term fruit of Dwight’s personal suffering was an increased understanding of the life and labor of the common man.

When the American Revolution began, Dwight joined the Continental Army as a chaplain. He counseled, prayed, and exhorted men to faith and courage in the midst of fear and death. In the crucible of war, a pastoral heart was born.

In 1783 he accepted the pastorate of the church in Greenfield, Connecticut, where he shepherded his flock and taught at an academy. Still an intellectual, he began to speak and write against French deism. In 1794 he published A Discourse on the Genuineness and Authenticity of the New Testament, a defense against the antibiblical French philosophies taking root at the university level throughout the newly formed United States.

In 1795 God called Timothy Dwight to a new chapter in his life. He became the president of his alma mater, Yale College, a growing hotbed of deism. Dwight found himself at war once more, but it was a war for which he was made. Prayerfully and confidently, he unsheathed the sword of the Spirit and stepped into the fray.

By 1802, after seven years of Dwight’s solid biblical preaching, hearts were softened, deism’s back was badly bent, and revival broke out on campus. One-third of Yale’s 225 students were converted to Christ under his preaching, and many became instrumental in a larger revival that spread throughout New England, upstate New York, and onto the Western frontier. It was the beginning of the nation’s Second Great Awakening.

When Timothy Dwight passed at last from this life into the next on January 11, 1817, he left behind a legacy of biblical scholarship and evangelical revival.

Reflection

How did God work his purposes through Timothy Dwight’s loss of most of his eyesight? How might his life have been different if he had not had the problem with his eyes? Was it a positive or a negative for his life and ministry?

The Lord disciplines those he loves.

Hebrews 12:6