Book Review: A Heart Aflame for God
Matthew Bingham, A Heart Aflame for God: A Reformed Approach to Spiritual Formation. Crossway, 2025. 368 pp.
The internet is a marvelous and maddening place. A single viral clip can be watched by millions and yet leave no lasting impact beyond a moment of humor, shock, or provocation. At the same time, voices that would otherwise remain small (sometimes wisely, sometimes disastrously) can be amplified far beyond their real‑world significance. In an online ecosystem driven by algorithms, outrage, and monetization, many of us feel caught between fascination and fatigue as waves of opinions, polemics, and low‑effort content wash across our screens.
Christians are not immune to this digital chaos. The past decade has seen the rise of polished, highly visible online teachers from nearly every Christian tradition, amplifying debate and deepening division. Combined with the ongoing identity crisis among American evangelicals, the internet often presents a distorted picture: Protestants appear to be fleeing en masse to Rome or Constantinople in search of deeper roots. Data tells a different story, but the narrative persists because it thrives online.
Recovering the Spiritual Heritage of the Reformers
For Anglicans who value both our Reformation heritage and our connection to the ancient church, this moment raises real questions. Do other traditions offer spiritual practices we should recover? How do those practices relate to the Reformers’ insistence on the sufficiency of Scripture? Does “pick‑and‑choose” spirituality foster growth, or does it simply add clutter? And is Protestantism truly as spiritually shallow as some claim, or have we neglected the riches of our own inheritance?
Matthew Bingham, associate professor of church history at Phoenix Seminary, addresses these questions directly in A Heart Aflame for God. He argues that the Reformed tradition offers a Scripture‑centered, deeply formative vision of the Christian life—one that shapes mind, heart, and body through God’s appointed means of grace. This vision draws believers into deeper fellowship with God and conforms them to the image of Christ.
Bingham contends that this approach provides a rich, time‑tested path for spiritual growth while avoiding extrabiblical—and at times unbiblical—practices found in other traditions. He frames spiritual formation around a “Reformational triangle” of Scripture intake, meditation, and prayer, urging Christians to recover a serious, simple, and thoroughly biblical pattern of devotion.
The Reformation heritage that gave birth to evangelicalism already has a rich and biblically faithful tradition of spiritual formation, such that we do not need to create a pastiche of spiritual practices drawn from medieval mystical, Roman Catholic, and Eastern Orthodox authors. […] What is unfortunate and frustrating is to see evangelical Christians depart from the Reformation’s heritage of spiritual formation under the false assumption that no such thing actually exists. In other words, if you are going to reject your inheritance, you should first make sure you know what’s in it.
Word‑Centered Spiritual Formation
Many Anglicans feel pulled between worlds: the Gospel’s call to repentance and faith, the Reformation’s emphasis on Scriptural sufficiency, and the Church’s historic liturgical and aesthetic richness. Though Bingham writes from a distinctly Reformed perspective, his book helps Anglicans—and Christians across traditions—navigate these tensions with clarity in an age shaped by digital pressures and cross-tradition tensions.
Bingham does not write merely to critique other traditions or online polemics. Instead, he presents the Reformation’s “word‑centered piety” in positive terms. By stripping away later accretions, the Reformers recovered a simpler and more life‑giving vision of Christian living. The Puritans extended this vision by emphasizing the careful tending of the heart (Prov. 4:23). Bingham rightly identifies this focus on inward transformation as a crown jewel of the Reformation’s pastoral legacy.
Where “spiritual formation” can feel vague or even suspect, Bingham grounds it explicitly in Scripture. He defines it as:
the conscious process by which we seek to heighten and satisfy our Spirit-given thirst for God through divinely appointed means and with a view toward “work[ing] out [our] own salvation with fear and trembling” (Phil. 2:12) and becoming “mature in Christ” (Col. 1:28).
This biblically rooted vision makes the book both accessible and enriching for Anglicans of many stripes.
The Centrality of Scripture
God gave his Word to make us wise unto salvation (2 Tim. 3:15), to guide our steps (Ps. 119:105), and to sustain us with every word from his mouth (Deut. 8:3; Matt. 4:4). Scripture repeatedly calls us to meditate on God’s Word with delight (Ps. 1:2). For Bingham, this conviction anchors all spiritual formation: a life saturated in Scripture will bear fruit that pleases God.
Scripture does not stand alone as the means by which God shapes us, but it remains primary. Through it, we hear God’s voice, know his character, and open ourselves to the Spirit’s sanctifying work. Regular engagement with Scripture, therefore, cannot be separated from the habits that shape mind, heart, and life.
Anglicans have long shared this conviction. Our tradition commits itself to “the whole counsel of Scripture for the whole Church,” most clearly through the Daily Office. Reformed-minded Anglicans will find much common ground with Bingham’s insistence on reading and hearing Scripture consistently. Even with the various lectionary revisions across editions of the Book of Common Prayer, Anglicanism has always emphasized that the entire Scripture is for all Christians—meant to be “heard, read, marked, learned, and inwardly digested,” in Archbishop Thomas Cranmer’s enduring words. The recovery of Scripture in the language of the people was a rallying point for the early Reformers and remains enshrined in our historic formularies (Articles VI and XXIV). So, while Anglicans may differ from Bingham on certain points, we stand united in affirming that immersion in Scripture is essential for growth in the Christian life.
…the Bible undergirds and informs any other spiritual discipline we might undertake. When we come to the word, we come to commune with the living God, to hear from him, and to be formed and shaped thereby.
Prayer and Meditation as Mutual Reinforcers
Bingham’s other two practices—meditation and prayer—remain distinct yet inseparable from Scripture. We hear from God through his Word. We then meditate on what we receive, reflecting on God’s character and promises and seeking the Spirit’s illumination. From this meditation flows prayer, often shaped by Scripture itself. In prayer, we lay before him our needs, anxieties, hopes, and joys, trusting that he hears us in his fatherly kindness and will fulfill his promises as he conforms us to Christ.
The real significance of meditation lies in its capacity to transform mere thoughts about God and the things of God into heartfelt, soul-stirring, life-transforming convictions about the same. […] Meditation is a particular sort of thinking that moves toward personal application and transformation; it’s a reflection on divine truth that goes somewhere—namely, toward spiritual refreshment and growth.
When understood this way, prayer and meditation are inseparable companions. Both draw their life from Scripture and, in turn, drive us back to it. When severed from the Word, however, they easily drift into sentimentality, self‑absorption, or practices that lead us away from the clarity of God’s revealed will. Bingham’s insistence that Scripture remain at the heart of both meditation and prayer helps guard against these pitfalls and restores a simple, God‑honoring pattern of devotion.
The three activities reinforce each other and merge into one another, both logically and temporally. Because they are so tightly intertwined, we can meaningfully describe them as three sides of the same basic thing: communion with God.
Bingham develops these themes primarily through Puritan sources—Richard Sibbes, John Owen, John Calvin, and John Flavel—alongside contemporary Reformed voices. In doing so, he dismantles common caricatures of Puritan spirituality and presents a more humane and pastoral portrait than readers might expect.
Outward-Facing Practices
The second section shifts toward more “outward‑facing” practices: self‑examination, attentiveness to God’s work in creation, cultivating intentional Christian friendships, and caring for our physical, mental, and emotional health as part of our spiritual growth. For me, the heartbeat of the book lies in the thread connecting meditation, prayer, and self‑examination. These practices are naturally introspective, engaging the whole heart and mind. Yet Bingham wisely warns against allowing them to become overly inward‑facing, which can lead to scrupulosity and a failure to look to the Cross—where our sin and guilt are decisively dealt with.
For readers who, like me, struggle with a tender or overly anxious conscience, Bingham’s pastoral cautions and assurances help anchor these disciplines in the hope of the Gospel. He even acknowledges that some Puritans themselves wrestled with excessive introspection, and he offers a healthier, more Christ‑centered path forward.
Applying The Anglican Tradition
Bingham’s approach naturally raises questions for Anglicans regarding private devotion. As a Reformed Baptist, he extends the regulative principle of worship into personal piety. Anglicans have traditionally taken a gentler approach, treating private practices as adiaphora so long as they do not contradict Scripture.
While Bingham does not explicitly name practices such as lectio divina, the rosary, or contemplative prayer, he speaks strongly against any devotional method that, in his view, moves beyond the clear teaching of Scripture. He expresses particular concern with strands of Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox spirituality that emphasize moving past words (both God’s Word to us and our words to him) toward higher states of experience or union. Such approaches, he argues, can become subjective and can give the impression that the Christian life progresses through mystical “levels” of maturity rather than through steady, ordinary faithfulness.
Anglican readers will respond differently depending on churchmanship. Reformed‑leaning Anglicans may resonate with Bingham’s caution, even while allowing greater flexibility. Broadchurch and Anglo‑Catholic readers may find his critiques less compelling, given Anglicanism’s long‑standing use of practices he questions. Even so, Bingham’s challenge presses all readers to ask whether their devotions truly draw them deeper into Scripture and the life of Christ.
A Call to Devotion
While Anglicans may object to Bingham’s tendency to blur the line between extra‑biblical and unbiblical practices, his central call remains compelling: pursue a simple, serious, Scripture‑anchored life of devotion. It is a call all Christians desperately need, especially in an age when algorithms, blogs, and an endless cycle of theological hot takes can leave us spiritually scattered and emotionally drained.
In a season where so many feel stretched thin, the steady rhythms of hearing and reading Scripture, meditating on it with intention, and opening our hearts to God in prayer remain a source of profound rest. We already possess these tools within our tradition; the challenge is to use them faithfully. As I read A Heart Aflame for God, I was repeatedly reminded of Mary in Luke 10, choosing “the good portion” by sitting at the feet of Jesus and simply attending to his presence. Bingham’s book serves as a gentle invitation to do the same: to set aside distractions, return to the Word, and allow Christ himself to shape our hearts through the means he has given us.
Image: A Heart Aflame for God, © 2025 Crossway.
