This is a great question—not least because this brother was not awash in pessimism. While working faithfully in a day of small things, he retained confidence that the Lord’s arm is not shortened, such that he could not save. By this time, the pastor in question has a pretty good idea of what godly ministry looks like when the opposition is pretty intense, but he wondered how his priorities should change if the Lord in his mercy visited him with the blessings of reformation and revival.

Recently I was speaking in a part of the country known for its antagonism to the gospel. Church planting in that area is very hard work. The small number of confessionally strong churches are making headway, but slowly. I admire these pastors, evangelists, and church planters more than I can say; it is a pleasure and a privilege to spend time with them.

In the course of a meal with several of them, one pastor said, “I know full well that I may serve all my years working in the teeth of strenuous opposition that may get worse before it gets better. But suppose that genuine revival breaks out, whether in one church or in a larger region. What should my priorities be?”

Great question—not least because this brother was not awash in pessimism. While working faithfully in a day of small things, he retained confidence that the Lord’s arm is not shortened, such that he could not save. By this time, the pastor in question has a pretty good idea of what godly ministry looks like when the opposition is pretty intense, but he wondered how his priorities should change if the Lord in his mercy visited him with the blessings of reformation and revival.

As it happens, I’ve been on the edge of such visitations a couple of times. In 1970–1971, when the so-called Canadian Revival swept through parts of Western Canada, sparked by ministry led by the Sutera twins, I was serving as pastor of a church in British Columbia. And then, brought up as I was in French Canada, I witnessed the unprecedented (for Québec) multiplication of about thirty-five French-speaking churches to just under five hundred, in eight years (1972–1980). More importantly, I’ve tried to read some of the histories of revivals in various corners of the world, partly to think through what is genuinely of God and what is not. As a result of my own experience and of my reading, filtered by what I understand Scripture to say, my list of dos and don’ts when revival comes, in no particular order of importance, would look something like this:

1. Re-read some serious literature about what is real and what is most likely fraudulent in revival. You cannot do better than to begin with A Faithful Narrative of the Surprising Work of God, and A Treatise Concerning the Religious Affections, both, of course, by Jonathan Edwards. Edwards is remarkably open to various displays, but the real test is never the display but God-centered righteousness, gospel-fueled integrity. About a century after Edwards, some “revivals” in Kentucky and elsewhere produced a disproportionate number of illegitimate births nine months later. One can guess why: emotional intensity often combines with human intimacy which, if it is not of God, is more likely to produce babies than righteousness. Knowledge of abuses easily breeds a slightly supercilious cynicism, while infatuation with revival easily breeds naïveté. Don’t be cynical; don’t be gullible; be discerning.
2. Examine your own heart; fan the flames of personal devotion to Christ. Abundantly use the ordinary means of grace: that is, instead of relying on the intensity of the revival, turn again and again to Bible reading, prayer, self-examination and confession, death to self-interest, a joyful focus on the cross, faithful evangelism, service, and eager anticipation of the glories yet to come. If instead you rely for your sustenance on the sweeping movement of the revival, ignoring the ordinary means of grace, you are likely to burn out in a frenzied pursuit of what is instantly gratifying but not very nourishing.

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