Thursday, August 15, 2024

Lessons from an Old Theological Controversy

 

Lessons from an Old Theological Controversy

By

D. Patrick Ramsey

 

Introduction

            Theological controversies are nothing new. Acrimonious theological controversies are not new either. One example of the latter occurred among the English Dissenters in London at the end of the seventeenth century. This controversy lasted for nearly a decade, and it focused primarily on the doctrines of justification and the atonement. Unfortunately, it disrupted the newly formed union between English Presbyterians and Congregationalists. My goal in this article, however, is not to examine the theological issues of this debate. That has been done elsewhere.[1] Instead, I would like to focus on the manner of the debate, looking at how the two sides engaged each other and how they sought to resolve their differences. There are several lessons to be gleaned from this old controversy about how to, or perhaps more accurately, how not to engage in public theological debate. I will draw out five lessons, applying them to our own day and age.[2]

 

Know When to Run

            The history of this old controversy itself provides an important lesson, which may be summed up by the words of a country song, The Gambler: “You’ve got to know when to hold ’em, know when to fold ’em, know when to walk away, and know when to run.” 

            In 1690 the Presbyterians and Congregationalists joined forces to help one another financially with a common fund and then corporately in 1691 by uniting the ministers together on the basis of a doctrinal document. This latter union was well received by many. Matthew Mead took the occasion to preach a sermon on Ezekiel 37:19 entitled, Two Sticks Made One: Or the Excellency of Unity. Unfortunately, the celebration didn’t last long because a theological controversy that had already been brewing, in part due to the reprinting of the sermons of Tobias Crisp in 1690, would wreak havoc upon the Union.

            Besides the lecture hall, the debate played itself out in the public eye via the printing press. Although a number of people wrote on the issues, including Richard Baxter shortly before he died in 1691, it was the book by Daniel Williams (Gospel-Truth Stated and Vindicated) that became the center of debate. In this book, Williams attacked the views of Tobias Crisp, but many Congregationalists (correctly) believed it was aimed at them. They also believed that Williams went too far and expressed unorthodox views himself. In response, Isaac Chauncy published a lengthy reply to Williams in three parts entitled Neonomianism Unmask’d.  Williams responded to the first part with his A Defense of Gospel-Truth, only to be answered by Chauncy’s A Rejoynder. Robert Traill also entered the fray when he published anonymously A Vindication of the Protestant Doctrine Concerning Justification, and of its Preachers and Professors from the unjust charge of Antinomianism. This displeased a number of Presbyterians who had recommended Williams’ book and so they prevailed upon William Lorimer to pen a book length response to Traill, An Apology for the Ministers Who Subsribed only unto the Stating of The Truths and Errours in Mr. Williams’ Book.

            Many more books and pamphlets kept rolling off the presses, even after all forms of cooperation between the two sides were severed by 1695. People on both sides kept responding and replying to one another so that one gets the impression that all parties were fueled by the need for self-vindication, which could only be accomplished by having the last word.

            In reflecting upon the numerous writings of Isaac Chauncy, the Congregationalist historians, David Bogue and James Bennett, remarked: “for what controversialist will be outdone.”[3] A true statement indeed, not only of Chauncy, but also of Williams and the others.  And it is equally true of theological controversialists today. The temptation to defend ourselves or to defend our critiques continuously is a clear and present danger. Publishers and editorial policies are helpful in this regard because they compel us to stop. But now with the internet the safeguards are removed in many cases and we are free to post our reviews, responses, defenses, further defenses, rejoinders, surrejoinders and so on.

            One lesson then that we ought to learn from this past controversy is to know when to fold ’em and when to run away. We need to learn to put to death the desire to have the last word. After all, God’s truth will triumph and its success is not dependent upon our relentless and unending barrage of articles, posts, podcasts and tweets. This is not to say, of course, that all prolonged public debate is to be dismissed. The English dissenters spent a good deal of time debating the issues in order to maintain their unity and to correct error. Surely, that time was well spent even if it didn’t result in the desired outcome. And yet wisdom dictates that there is a time when the public debate should end and someone has to end it. But what controversialist will be outdone?

 

Over the Top

            Although this controversy involved godly ministers who were all part of the same but broad Reformed family—most of them had even formally united together on the basis of Reformed confessions—they did not treat one another very well during their public debate. This debate among “friends” began with a bang and only continued to get worse. Indeed, the caustic rhetoric and over the top charges were at times out of control. There is no question that the manner of this debate sullied the Dissenters’ name and cause.

            Both the Presbyterians and the Congregationalists were, of course, at fault for infusing heat into the debate and for overreaching at times. Richard Baxter did not help matters when he used the name Jezebel to refer to Tobias Crisp. Also, Daniel Williams didn’t bring calm to the brewing storm when he went overboard in his attack on Crisp, which was occasionally misguided.  Still further, the charge of antinomianism inflamed the debate. Nevertheless, the lion’s share of the blame belonged to the Congregationalists, a point observed by several historians, including Bogue and Bennett. The Congregationalists relentlessly went after Williams and accused him of not only contradicting the Thirty-nine Articles and the Westminster Standards on some doctrines but of heterodoxy and heresy: Arminianism, Semi-Socinianism/Socinianism, Pelagianism and legalism or justification by works. Williams was looked upon “as undermining the very foundation of the Gospel,”[4] and so was “run down, both from the pulpit and the press, as a notorious heretic.”[5]

            Isaac Chauncy was particularly nasty. After noting that he had been reading books all his life, Williams said that he had “never met with a Tract parallel to his [Chauncy], for abusive Language, violent Rage and uncharitable Censures.”[6] Although Williams was far from being an impartial observer, his comment should not be quickly brushed aside because even a cursory reading of Chauncy’s book will demonstrate that there is a large measure of truth to it. Bogue and Bennett pointed out that Chauncy’s “spirit was bad, and his accusations against Dr. Williams for heresy were numerous; but they were mostly as weak as they were bitter.”[7] Chauncy even coined a new term “Neonomianism” in order to “disgrace Dr. Williams’s sentiments, and his book.”[8]

            Of all the heated writing produced by this controversy, and there was a lot of it, J.I. Packer has observed that Robert Traill’s pamphlet was the best and the coolest.[9] The Presbyterians, however, did not share Packer’s assessment. In fact, Edmund Calamy described it as “angry letter,”[10] commenting that with its appearance “the hopes of a free brotherly Correspondence vanish’d away.”[11] The Presbyterians were furious with Traill in part because they understood him to be accusing them of rationalism, Arminianism, Pelagianism, Popery and of corrupting the gospel. At one point in his letter Traill presented himself and his cohorts as being the true proclaimers and defenders of the gospel and the Reformed faith; while the Presbyterians had imbibed Arminian schemes of the gospel, vilified and contemned their opponents, and were probably closet Pelagians and Arminians. Traill even suggested that their true colors would soon be exposed and that the people they had “seduced by their craft” would then turn on them.[12] Contrary to Packer, Traill’s letter was anything but cool. 

            The fact of the matter is that Williams and his fellow moderate Presbyterians such as John Howe and William Bates were not Pelagians or Arminians. David Field has recently shown that they were “committed to the fundamentals of a Calvinist theology.”[13] Though it may be true that they veered somewhat from some forms or formulas of Calvinism, the Congregationalists overreached with their accusations of heresy, which in turn made their heated rhetoric unnecessary, even ridiculous.

            Unfortunately, in-house theological debates do seem to bring out the worst in theologians. Robert Traill noted, somewhat ironically as we have seen, that “it is a sad but true observation, That no contentions are more easily kindled, more fiercely pursued, and more hardly composed, than those of divines; sometimes from their zeal for truth; and sometimes from worse principles, that may act in them, as well as in other men.”[14] In reflecting upon this statement Peter Toon quipped, “will theologians ever learn?”[15] 

            Another lesson then that should be gleaned from this controversy is that we need to be careful to avoid using over the top language. Overreaching is a sign of a lack of charity or incompetence or both. Consequently, it makes the accuser and his position look bad. And if he is on the side of truth, then he, instead of his message, will be the reason people stumble at the truth. Furthermore, if you come out with both guns blazing then you will squelch constructive dialogue and diminish the chances of an edifying resolution. This is not to say that you shouldn’t argue your case or even that you shouldn’t do so vigorously. Present your case well for what you believe and why you believe your opponent is in error. But do so without the inflammatory and excessive language. 

            Sadly, the use of exaggerated language in debate is something that we still witness today.  The internet surely has helped us in this regard. In the 1690’s one had to wait for the next pamphlet to come off the presses or for the next lecture to be given. But now the publication of outrageous theological discourse is one click away. Peter Toon was right to ask: will theologians ever learn?

 

The Personal Side of Polemics

            One of the striking yet sad features of this debate was the evident personal animosity towards Daniel Williams. Although John Flavel also wrote against Antinomianism, including some of the views of Tobias Crisp, he and his book did not become the center of a decade long controversy. That honor belonged to Williams. Ostensibly, the reason the Congregationalists lashed out at Williams was that he went beyond refuting antinomian doctrines and added his own unbiblical ones. To borrow the words of Robert Traill, they were motived by a “zeal for truth.” While there is no reason to doubt this, I do think it is fair to say that this debate was not just about the truth. It was personal. People didn’t merely dislike Williams’ views, they disliked him. The debate wouldn’t have lasted as long as it did; it wouldn’t have been focused on Williams; and it wouldn’t have been so acrimonious if it had been simply about defending the truth amid error. Personal animosity infected the controversy from the beginning. The details of this episode will bear this out.

            Daniel Williams’ views on the controverted subjects were well known before the Presbyterians and Congregationalists joyfully joined together and the publication of his book Gospel-Truth. Furthermore, Williams was for the most part successful in his stated purpose of avoiding contentious aspects of his teachings, or those of his fellow Presbyterians, in his book. Yet, it sparked a firestorm. If zeal for the truth were the whole matter, then Chauncy and company would not have joined the Union in the first place and Williams’ book wouldn’t have set them off. But it did and they continued to go after Williams in a vindictive manner. Chauncy published a caustic and protracted critique wherein he accused Williams of dishonesty among other things. New members were enrolled at Pinners-Hall for the sole purpose of ousting Williams from the lectureship. Two months after his dismissal, Williams had to endure a smear campaign as he was accused of sexual immorality by some of his most ardent detractors. After an eight-week inquiry he was fully vindicated.

            By no means was Williams alone in his views. Other moderate and leading Presbyterians such as John Howe and William Bates were basically on the same page theologically. Nonetheless, Williams took all the heat. An early attempt at reunion was very short-lived in part because the Congregationalists believed that the Presbyterians were determined to support Williams “in his Errors,” despite the fact that Williams had subscribed to a document that was a compilation of confessional passages addressing the controverted subjects.[16] In another attempt at reunion, the Presbyterians asked and received from the Congregationalists a list of errors that needed to be renounced. They then added to it a number of errors concerning Antinomianism. The combined list was unanimously accepted by the Presbyterians, including Williams, and sent to the Congregationalists. This effort to bring both parties back together was disregarded in part because it did not contain a renunciation of Williams. Affirming confessional orthodoxy and repudiating heterodoxy and heresy were insufficient. A person, not just error, had to be denounced.  This continued to be the case throughout the controversy. Williams was the sticking point at every turn and attempt at reunion. The debate was not just about defending the truth.  It was deeply personal.  

            Divisive personalities are not foreign to heated and protracted public disputes. But why Williams, and not Howe or Bates, generated so much animosity is hard to tell with any degree of certainty. Perhaps it was his ardent zeal to combat anything that smelled of antinomianism, a trait acknowledged by his friends; or his role as a leader among the Dissenters; or his Presbyterianism; or his personality; or a combination of these and other factors. Regardless, the hostility directed towards Williams was sinful and destructive in many ways. Besides the hurt it inflicted upon Williams personally, the hatred his opponents had for him was a major stumbling block to reconciliation. This was so because hatred produces an inability to see the truth clearly. Unsurprisingly, Williams’ opponents continued to misrepresent his beliefs even after his many clarifications and explanations. Commenting upon 1 John 2:11, John Stott wrote: “Hatred distorts our perspective. We do not first misjudge people and then hate them as a result; our view of them is already jaundiced by our hatred.”[17] This is the problem with the personal side of polemics. Disdain for a particular individual will make you see heresy where there is no heresy; and it will keep you from seeing your own erroneous judgments.

            Another lesson then that we need to learn from this controversy is to be on our guard for hatred in our hearts toward our brethren with whom we vigorously disagree. Traill was correct to note that theologians engage in debate out of zeal for truth but also “sometimes from worse principles.”[18] How can we know if we are acting out of “worse principles”? Well, wise friends should be able to give us an honest evaluation. Also, we could check for possible signs of hatred such as overreaching and a constant need to critique a particular person. Unfortunately, if hatred is our problem then we will probably be deaf to our friends and blind to any signs. So perhaps the best thing to do is to do what we are already commanded to do, namely, love. Focus on loving your opponent. Love will dissipate any hatred you might have in your heart. It will also enable you to see clearly and so become a good controversialist. As Stott has written, “It is love which sees straight, thinks clearly and makes us balanced in our outlook, judgments and conduct.”[19]

            Thus, the way to combat the personal side of polemics is to get personal. Don’t merely spend time getting to know the views of your opponent, get to know your opponent. If possible, spend time with him. Pray for him and his family. Serve him. Love him. During the 1540’s John Calvin and Heinrich Bullinger exchanged some heated letters debating the meaning of the Lord’s Supper. However, they were able to unite together rather quickly around a joint statement (Consensus Tigurinus) in 1549. According to Diarmaid MacCulloch, what helped bring them together was Bullinger’s gentle and pastoral ministry to Calvin after his wife had died.[20] A concrete and meaningful act of love changed the dynamic in their relationship and enabled them to constructively work out their theological differences. More recently, I heard about two Reformed churches that were at odds with one another theologically, which in turn created tension in the Presbytery. One of the churches noticed that the other church had a need and decided to meet it with a generous gift of a beautiful piano. That act of kindness went a long way in reconciling the two parties. Love, indeed, is a powerful antidote to the acrimony generated from a theological controversy. 

            The danger of personal animosity tainting theological debate is ever present. The line between zeal for truth and hostility towards a brother or sister in Christ is not always easily detected. So, watch and pray, and put on love, being eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.

 

Party Spirit

            If a theological debate has been infected with personal animosity and filled with over the top accusations and charges, then you will most likely find a party spirit, which will only further enflame the controversy. Like everyone else, theologians do not tend to denounce their friends in public even if they disagree with them, and they tend to support them publicly when they are charged with serious error or called heretics. This is true, not only for our personal friends, but also for our theological, institutional and ecclesiastical friends. We naturally circle the wagons when someone on our side of the aisle comes under heavy fire. By the same token, we do not hesitate to go after someone who is not a personal friend or part of our group. While we may like to think that we are solely motivated by a holy zeal for the truth, our actions often reveal otherwise. We are not so different from the saints in Corinth as we would like to believe (1 Cor. 1:10-17; 3:1-ff). The debate between the Dissenters in the 1690’s is a perfect example of a theological controversy mired down by a party spirit.

            Sixteen Presbyterians endorsed the first edition of Daniel Williams’ controversial book Gospel-Truth. Williams attempted to get some Congregationalists to endorse it but they all declined, including Matthew Mead who had originally expressed his agreement with it.  Incidentally, one of the reasons that Williams gave for seeking endorsements was that “People do oft value Names more than Arguments.”[21] Judging from the endless book endorsements that we find today on the cover and the inside pages, it doesn’t seem that much has changed. Nevertheless, that only the Presbyterians endorsed Williams’ book was a sign of things to come and evidence that people were already sticking together along party lines. 

            Once the controversy exploded with the publication of Gospel-Truth, the Presbyterians rallied around Williams. The second edition contained forty-nine signatures, an increase of thirty-three.  Encouraged by a number of ministers, William Lorimer wrote an entire book to vindicate Williams and the Presbyterians who had signed his book. Several other books and pamphlets were published in defense of Williams. After Williams was ousted from the lectureship at Pinners’ Hall, the remaining Presbyterian lecturers walked out with Williams and started a rival lectureship at Salters’ Hall even though the Congregationalists pleaded with them to stay. There they were joined by Samuel Annesley and Richard Mayo. It is noteworthy that Annesley joined Williams at Salters’ Hall because he had not endorsed Williams’ book and is considered to be a high Calvinist. Undoubtedly, Annesley differed with Williams on some things, yet he chose to side with his fellow Presbyterian over against the Congregationalists. Indeed, Annesley was not the only Presbyterian who would have differed from Williams on some matters. Yet, they all stood with him even when it meant they had to sacrifice reunion with the Congregationalists.

            The Congregationalists also supported one another. After Chauncy and some other Congregationalists expressed their displeasure with Williams to the United Ministers, an attempt at reconciliation was made. A doctrinal statement focusing on the controversial issues was put together and subscribed to by both Chauncy and Williams. Unity, however, was not forthcoming because a further statement was accepted, which indicated that the United Ministers had not endorsed everything in Williams’ book as well as Chauncy’s writings on this controversy. Some Congregationalists saw this as a rebuke to Chauncy, leading them to believe that it was the “firm purpose of the Governing Party of the United Ministers, to Uphold and Justifie Mr. Williams in his Errors.”[22] The Congregationalists thus rallied around Chauncy even as they believed the Presbyterians were rallying around Williams.

            The party spirit may also be seen in the way they treated one another. Like Thomas Manton, and many others, Daniel Williams knew and consequently greatly appreciated Richard Baxter. Thus, when Chauncy cited a passage from Baxter’s writings in order to question Williams’ own orthodoxy, Williams unsurprisingly read Baxter in a positive light, even though he admitted that Baxter didn’t always express his views well and that he didn’t always agree with Baxter. Williams, however, did not treat Crisp in the same way. He wrote an entire book on Crisp’s errors and tore to shreds every infelicitous phrase. What Williams gave, he received in abundance from Chauncy and Traill. They defended Crisp and recommended his writings without embracing all of his expressions, and they (mostly Chauncy) wrote voluminous material against Williams, wherein they interpreted his statements in the worst possible light. 

            The party spirit that reared its ugly head in the 1690’s is sometimes seen today and one problem with it is that it clouds our judgment. Our admiration for our friends and mentors keeps us from seeing or at least being willing to properly address and if necessary, publicly reject their errors. We can go to great and complex lengths in order to keep our mentor and friends within the bounds of confessional orthodoxy; and we can become eerily silent when they make outlandish statements that ought to be unequivocally rejected. 

            Another closely related problem is partiality. We go soft on those in our group and harsh with those who are not. We overlook a multitude of sins for our friends and shine the light on the tiniest of infractions of our opponents. We don’t utter a word about the tone and temper of those on our side, even though everyone else notices how bad it is, but then we are quick to rebuke our opponents for their sinful tone and temper. We trust and think the best of those who are in our camp, even when they make questionable theological moves; but we are suspicious and think the worst of those who are not, especially when they refuse to throw their controversial friends and mentors under the bus.

            How then are we to deal with a party spirit in theological controversy? Well, it is probably worth pointing out the obvious that it is not wrong to have friends and to treat them in a friendly manner. Fellowship with people of like mind and heart is indeed sweet. Nor is it wrong for people to align with one side or another of a controversy because of shared beliefs. The problem is not parties per se, but a party spirit. And the way to deal with that is the same way we need to deal with personal animosity. We need to love our theological opponents. 

            As I have reflected upon this old controversy and as I observe current ones, I have often wondered what would happen if people treated their theological opponents in the same way they treated their theological friends. I dare say that most theological debates would disappear, at least from the public sphere. Certainly, the rush to publish a biting critique on Facebook, Twitter or a blog would slow down since we don’t normally do that sort of thing to our friends. But even if we did continue to debate publicly, our conversations would be more edifying because we would go out of our way to understand one another, and we would be careful not to go overboard. Perhaps we need to treat our friends more like our opponents and our opponents more like our friends. Regardless, we need to truly love friend and foe alike.

            Love speaks the truth in love. It does not flatter or tear down. Love is also universal and impartial. It isn’t kind to one group of people and ruthless to another. Love loves all. It, therefore, is not only a powerful antidote to personal animosity, it is also strong enough to wipe out the nefarious effects of a party spirit.

 

Broaden Your Horizons

            The Presbyterians and the Congregationalists had an extremely difficult time working through their theological differences. There are a number of reasons for this, some of which we have already considered, but one was that they approached the issues from opposite perspectives. Our theological views, or at least our theological emphases and expressions, are in part shaped and informed by our understanding of the times in which we live. What we see as threatening problems in the church will influence, not only what we believe, but how and how often we articulate our beliefs. The reverse is true as well. Our theological opinions and proclivities will affect our vision of the major problems plaguing the church. The opposing perspectives of the two parties of this old controversy impaired their view of each other, making it nearly impossible to work out their differences.

            The chief problem that Daniel Williams saw in his own circles was that of Antinomianism. He believed that this was a serious theological error and that it was making inroads among the Dissenters including several ministers. As a pastor, he was more concerned for the laypeople than the ministers who advocated this error because the latter “have Grace to preserve their Minds and Practices,” but the former had “no such Antidote.”[23] As a churchman, Williams was grieved by the schism created by Antinomianism. He reported that “faithful Ministers [like William Bates and even the Congregationalist Matthew Mead] were deserted as Legalists, Churches divided, and Town and Country filled with Debates and Noise.”[24] Furthermore, he was anxious to protect the reputation of the Dissenters. Antinomianism in those days was tied, rightly or wrongly, to moral and social chaos. In order to protect their present liberty and to maintain the slight hope of rejoining the Church of England, Williams wanted to make it crystal clear that he and his colleagues had nothing to do with Antinomianism. For a host of reasons, then, Williams strongly believed that it was necessary to go after Antinomianism and go after it with vigor. Consequently, his formulations of various doctrines were designed to counter this error.

            Robert Traill, on the other hand, saw things quite differently. He didn’t think Antinomianism was on the rise at all. After scouring the scene, he confidently declared that he didn’t know “any one Antinomian minister or Christian in London.”[25] In fact, he believed that the far more common danger is and always will be Arminianism because it is “far more natural to all men.” He acknowledged that some people in the past had been seduced by Antinomianism and maybe some in his own day, but he believed that this error “is but a meteor or comet, that will soon blaze out, and its folly will be quickly hissed off the stage.”[26] The real danger that the church always needs to be on the lookout for is Arminianism, and Traill saw the Presbyterians as one of the purveyors of it in his own day. As a pastor, he was deeply concerned to defend the gospel and to protect laypeople from a corrupt gospel. In addition, he believed that the Presbyterians were creating trouble with their treatment of the Congregationalists. For similar reasons as Williams, then, Traill believed it was necessary to go on the offensive against the Arminian doctrine of the Presbyterians. Also, as was the case with Williams and Antinomianism, Traill’s formulations of various doctrines reflected his singular focus against Arminianism.

            Opposites, in this case, didn’t attract. Anti-Arminian doctrine looked suspiciously like Antinomian doctrine to an Anti-Antinomian such as Williams; while Anti-Antinomian doctrine looked like Arminian/Neonomian doctrine to an Anti-Arminian such as Traill. Thus, when they looked at each other they didn’t see a mistaken view that should co-exist within a broad Reformed family; they saw a dangerous error afflicting a vulnerable church that needed to be eradicated at all costs. What do we do in such a volatile situation? We need to broaden our horizons in at least three areas. 

            First, we need to force ourselves to look at the issues from our opponents’ perspective and carefully consider and address their concerns. If we are not in tune with what is driving our opponents and vice versa then discord, rather than harmony, will be the order of the day. This is what happened to the Presbyterians and Congregationalists at the end of the seventeenth century in London.

            After a failed attempt at reunion, the Presbyterians, tried again by asking the Congregationalists the reasons for their departure. The Congregationalists responded with a list of errors related to Arminianism that they believed needed to be rejected. The Presbyterians received them but also wanted their own concerns addressed and so added to the list a number of errors pertaining to Antinomianism. They then sent the full list of errors to the Congregationalists. The Congregationalists, however, ignored this communication because they firmly believed that Arminianism was the only problem. They were convinced that the Presbyterians needed to reject Arminianism, but that they were under no obligation to repudiate Antinomianism. Their utter disregard for the theological concerns of the Presbyterians was unloving as it was unwise. It displayed contempt for the Presbyterians and cast a shadow upon their own orthodoxy. Consequently, it further damaged their relationship and the likelihood of reunion. Eventually, the Congregationalists did address the issue of Antinomianism with a tract in 1699 but only after it was far too late.   

            The second way we need to broaden our horizons is in regard to our own outlook and ministry.  Our theology will be skewed or unbalanced if we are focused on one particular error (or truth). For example, in the arena of soteriology, if our chief (or only) concern is Arminianism, as it was for the Congregationalists, then we will tend to stress the sovereignty of God to the detriment of human responsibility. By the same token, if we primarily worry about Antinomianism, as it was for the Presbyterians, then we will tend to stress human responsibility to the detriment to the sovereignty of God. The truth of the matter is that we need to be equally concerned about both errors. Anthony Burgess once insightfully said that every person has a Pope and an Antinomian “in his belly.”[27] If the Congregationalists had been as concerned about Antinomianism as they were about Arminianism, and the Presbyterians as concerned about Arminianism as they were about Antinomianism then the two sides might well have been able to reconcile their differences. 

            A third and final way we need to broaden our horizons is to recognize and tolerate different formulations of Christian doctrine. In his final book on this controversy, Williams noted that the Congregationalists and Presbyterians formulated the doctrine of justification differently.  But he also recognized, particularly in light of the Congregationalists’ tract repudiating Antinomian errors, that they did not differ from each other as much as some “weak persons” suggested.[28] However, for the two parties to come together, especially on the matter of justification, they both had to be willing to recognize their differences as minor and be willing to tolerate them. Unfortunately, there were many in this debate that were reluctant or unable to do that.

            One of the key lessons that I have learned from my historical studies is that the Reformed tradition is much broader than I had once thought. The Reformed didn’t always agree with one another and not just on secondary matters but also on important and fundamental doctrines like justification, atonement and Theology Proper. Unity, in the presence of disagreement, will thus require a certain amount of breadth and toleration. This is as true in the seventeenth century as it is today.

            When the going gets tough in theological controversy, the tough get some perspective.  They look at the issues from their opponents’ point of view and consider their concerns. They are careful to avoid being one sided in their theological views and pastoral ministry. And they are willing to tolerate differences within acceptable limits. In short, good controversialists, broaden their horizons.

 

Conclusion

            The controversy that tore apart the union between the Presbyterians and Congregationalists in London was a low point in the history of English Dissenters. This is true, not so much for the matter of the debate as for the manner of it. People on both sides did not conduct themselves well, to say the least. It is a sad but true fact that Christians do at times treat each other in the most despicable way and the damage done to the name of Christ, to the truth and to one another is real and long-lasting. 

            This sad episode from the 1690’s, however, is not irredeemable. Since we are sinners who continue to debate the same important biblical truths, we are able to learn from their example and so, by the grace of God, learn not to repeat their mistakes. In this essay, we have gleaned a number lessons, which if taken to heart, will hopefully be of some use in our current debates and controversies.



[1] Peter Toon, Puritans and Calvinism (Seoul: Westminster Publishing House, n.d.), 85-101; D. Patrick Ramsey, “Meet Me in the Middle: Herman Witsius and the English Dissenters,” Mid-America Journal of Theology 19 (2008): 143-164; Anti-Antinomianism: The Polemical Theology of Daniel Williams, Westminster Theological Seminary, unpublished M.Th. Thesis, 2011.

[2] The bulk of this material originated as a series of articles posted at www.meetthepuritans.com. 

[3] David Bogue and James Bennett, History of Dissenters (London: 1808), 1:405.

[5] Walter Wilson, The History and Antiquities of Dissenting Churches (London: Walter Wilson, 1808), 2:202.

[6] Daniel Williams, “To the Reader,” in A Defense of Gospel-Truth (London: John Dunton, 1693).

[7] Bogue and Bennent, History, 1:404.

[8] Idem.

[9] J.I. Packer, A Quest for Godliness: The Puritan Vision of the Christian Life (Wheaton: Crossway Books, 1990), 158.

[10] Edmund Calamy, An Historical Account of My Own Life (London: Henry Colburn and Richard Bentley, 1830), 1:324.

[11] Edmund Calamy, An Abridgment of Mr. Baxter’s History of his Life and Times, 2nd ed. (London: John Lawrence, 1713), 516.

[12] Robert Traill, The Works of Robert Traill (1810; reprint Choteau, MT: Old Paths-Gospel Press, n.d.), 1:265.

[13] David P. Field, Rigide Calvinisme in a Softer Dresse (Edinburgh: Rutherford House, 2004), 161.

[14] Traill, Works, 1:253.

[15] Peter Toon, Puritans and Calvinism, 100.

[16] [Richard Taylor], A History of the Union Between the Presbyterian and Congregational Ministers in and about London; and the Causes of the Breach of it (London: 1698), 22.

[17] John Stott, The Letters of John, Rev. Ed.  (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1988), 100.

[18] Traill, Works, 1:253.

[19] Stott, The Letters of John, 100.

[20] Diarmaid MacCulloch, The Reformation: A History (New York, Penguin Books, 2003), 251.

[21] Williams, “To the Reader,” in Defense.

[22] [Taylor], A History of the Union, 22.

[23] Daniel Williams, “To the Reader,” in Gospel-Truth Stated and Vindicated: Wherein some of Dr. Crisp’s Opinions Are Considered; And The Opposite Truths Are Plainly Stated and Confirmed (London: John Dunton, 1692).

[24] Daniel Williams, “To the Reader,” in A Defense of Gospel-Truth (London: John Dunton, 1693).

[25] Traill, Works, 1:281.

[26] Ibid, 1:279.

[27] Anthony Burgess, A Vindication of the Morall Law and the Covenants (London: James Young for Thomas Underhill, 1646), 47.

[28] Daniel Williams, An End to Discord (London: John Lawrence, 1699), 98.

Thursday, April 1, 2021

The Good Friday Great Exchange


Introduction

 

My favorite scene in the Harry Potter movies is in the last one.[1]  Severus Snape had protected Harry throughout his life from Voldemort because of his undying love for Lily, Harry’s mother.  But now in this scene, Snape realizes to his horror that Harry must die at the right time and in the right way. 

 

As the Scriptures teach, Jesus came to die for our sins, but it was essential that he die at the right time and in the right way.  Although there had been attempts to silence Jesus (e.g. John 8:59), they were unsuccessful because his hour had not yet come.  When his hour did come, however, he needed to be arrested, put on trial, condemned and executed by crucifixion.  Why did Jesus have to suffer and die in this way?  This is what I want to consider because it leads us to the heart of the gospel.

 

The Necessity of the Trial

 

Jesus could have died in a number of different ways.  He could have been stoned by an angry mob or poisoned or assassinated by an elite soldier.  Instead, he was hauled before Pontius Pilate so that he might be crucified.  Why?

 

On the human level, Jesus “suffered under Pontius Pilate” because the Jewish leaders at the time believed that it was in their nation’s best interest.  If they had simply wanted Jesus dead, they could have had him killed without including the Roman authorities as some had tried to do with the Apostle Paul (Acts 23:12-15).  They did not do that because of Jesus’ popularity.  As evidenced by the events of Palm Sunday, many people believed that Jesus was the Christ and that he would lead the nation to victory against the Romans.  The Jewish leaders, however, are convinced that he is an imposter and therefore he would fail miserably.  Rome would destroy them all.  Thus, Caiaphas said to the Council: “You know nothing at all.  Nor do you understand that it is better for you that one man should die for the people, not that the whole nation should perish (John 11:49-50).”

 

The Jewish leaders, however, needed to be careful how they disposed of Jesus, lest his death incite the people to do something unwise.  Their plan was to take Jesus to Pilate—the only one who had the authority to administer capital punishment—and have him sentenced Jesus to death.  This would effectively curb interest in Jesus as the Christ because they believed that the Christ would conquer and not be conquered.  Furthermore, if Jesus is crucified then it would become clear that he was rejected and cursed by God (Gal. 3:13), something that would never happen to the Christ.

 

On the divine level, the situation is quite different.  Jesus had repeatedly said that he would suffer and die in this way (Mark 8:31; 9:31; 10:33-34; John 12:32-33).  Jesus’ arrest, trial, condemnation and crucifixion were all part of the divine plan to save us from our sins.  This is why Jesus had to “suffer under Pontius Pilate.” 

 

We learn about the necessity of the trial in the accounts of the trial itself.  There are two key points that the biblical writers emphasize.  First, Jesus is innocent.  Pilate knew this and declared it three times (John 18:38; 19:4, 6).  Herod also examined Jesus and came to the same conclusion (Luke 23:15).  Second, Jesus is officially condemned.  Although Pilate is convinced that Jesus is innocent, he succumbs to the political pressure and he judges Jesus to be guilty of treason and sentences him to death by crucifixion.

 

What is going on?  How is this part of God’s plan to save us from our sins?  The answer is the great exchange.  Jesus came, not merely to die, but to be our substitute and die for our sins.  We, not Jesus, are the ones who are guilty of rebellion and deserve to be cast out of the presence of God forever.  We are the ones who will stand before God on judgment day and be sentenced to eternal death.  But instead of us having to endure the judgment, Jesus endured it for us.  He went before the Judge, and was condemned in our place.  He, the innocent one, was sentenced to death, and we, the transgressors, are absolved and set free. 

 

This is what Isaiah had said would happen: “Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows…he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement for our peace was upon him… the LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all…for the transgressions of my people he was stricken…when you make his soul an offering for sin…he shall bear their iniquities… and he bore the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors (Isa. 53).”   And it is what Peter says did happen: Christ “suffered once for sins, the righteous for the unrighteous, that he might bring us to God (1 Pet. 3:18).”

 

This is why Jesus had to be put on trial.  To be sure, he stood before Pontius Pilate in a human law court; yet, at the same time he stood before the divine tribunal.  Behind and through Pilate, God judged and condemned Jesus for our sins.  This is why Isaiah says that God bruised him and put him to grief (Isa. 53:10), and why Paul says that God made Jesus who knew no sin to be sin for us (2 Cor. 5:21).  As J.I. Packer noted, “The miscarrying of human justice was the doing of divine justice.”

 

God’s mercy to us is eminently displayed in sending Jesus to be our substitute.  But it is also displayed in the fact that Jesus “suffered under Pontius Pilate” because by it we become privy to the great exchange.  It happened, as it were, right before our very eyes.  We know it is true because it happened in human history.  The trial of Jesus, therefore, reassures us of our salvation in Christ.  We can be confident that we will not be tried for our sins because we know that Jesus was tried and condemned for them.[2]

 

The Necessity of the Cross

 

Why the cross?  Why not some other form of execution?  One reason is that crucifixion was the typical punishment for the crime that Jesus had been found guilty of.  Another, more important, reason is that Jesus was suffering the curse of the law for us. 

 

Among the varied painful forms of punishment in the ancient world, crucifixion was one of, if not the worst.  It was so brutal that no Roman citizen could be crucified without approval from the Emperor.

 

Crucifixion was also shameful.  The act itself was degrading, but the fact that it was done publicly made it worse.  The victim would be stripped naked and paraded through the streets to the place of execution.  He would be crucified in a highly public area to maximize the number of people who would see it.  Jesus was crucified just outside Jerusalem beside the main road leading into the city.  Many people would have seen him hanging naked on the cross.  In contemporary terms, it would have been like crucifying Jesus in Times Square or live streaming it on YouTube.  The intent, of course, was to humiliate and shame.

 

The intent was also to make a statement and issue a warning.  Crucifixion asserted Roman domination and deterred people from even thinking about being part of a rebellion.  This is why the Jewish leaders didn’t like the sign (“The King of the Jews”) Pilate placed upon Jesus’ cross.  Their king (Christ) would never suffer such horror, shame and subjection.

 

Crucifixion was a horrible and humiliating way to die.  We describe terrible parts of the world as being “God-forsaken.”  A person witnessing a crucifixion would have said the same thing about the crucified.  And indeed, that is exactly what happened to Jesus.  He was forsaken by God on the cross.

 

The account of Jesus’ death reinforces this truth in at least three ways.  First, Matthew says that it became dark for three hours when Jesus was on the cross (Matt. 27:45).  Darkness in Scripture is associated with judgment (Isa. 13:10-11; Amos 5:18; 8:9).  By means of the darkness in the middle of the day, God was saying that he was forsaking Jesus and punishing him in body and soul.  Second, Jesus cried out on the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me (Matt. 27:46)?”  Third, the fact that Jesus hung on a cross indicated that he was suffering the curse of the law for us.  As Paul pointed out, “Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us-- for it is written, ‘Cursed is everyone who is hanged on a tree (Gal. 3:13).’”

 

This is why Jesus had to die on the cross.  He didn’t come merely to die, but to be forsaken for us and to suffer the curse for us.  The cross, therefore, is the means by which Jesus saves us and reassures us that we are saved.  The Heidelberg Catechism question 39 asks: “Does it have a special meaning that Christ was crucified and did not die in a different way?”  The answer: “Yes. Thereby I am assured that he took upon himself the curse which lay on me, for a crucified one was cursed by God.”

 

Conclusion

 

Jesus needed to die at the right time and in the right way because he came to be judged for us, and to suffer the curse for us. 

 

So, when you begin to doubt that God is for you, remember Good Friday. When you begin to wonder if God might judge you or forsake you, remember Jesus’ trial and death.  Remember that Jesus took your place in the courtroom and suffered the curse for you on the cross.  Remember the Good Friday great exchange.

 

And remember that we are remembering.  We are not waiting for Good Friday.  Good Friday has come and gone.  His trial and crucifixion have already taken place.  God has condemned sin in the flesh (Rom. 8:3).  God has canceled the record of debt that stood against us by nailing it to the cross (Col. 2:14).  There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus (Rom. 8:1).



[2] John Calvin wrote: “The curse caused by our guilt was awaiting us at God’s heavenly judgment seat. Accordingly, Scripture first relates Christ’s condemnation before Pontius Pilate, governor of Judea, to teach us that the penalty to which we were subject had been imposed upon this righteous man. We could not escape God’s dreadful judgment. To deliver us from it, Christ allowed himself to be condemned before a mortal man—even a wicked and profane man. For the title “prefect” is mentioned, not only to affirm the faithfulness of the history, but that we may learn what Isaiah teaches: “Upon him was the chastisement of our peace, and with his stripes we are healed” [Isa. 53:5]. To take away our condemnation, it was not enough for him to suffer any kind of death: to make satisfaction for our redemption a form of death had to be chosen in which he might free us both by transferring our condemnation to himself and by taking our guilt upon himself. If he had been murdered by thieves or slain in an insurrection by a raging mob, in such a death there would have been no evidence of satisfaction. But when he was arraigned before the judgment seat as a criminal, accused and pressed by testimony, and condemned by the mouth of the judge to die—we know by these proofs that he took the role of a guilty man and evildoer. Here we must note two things that had been foretold by the oracles of the prophets, and which greatly comfort and confirm our faith. When we hear that Christ was led from the judge’s seat to death, and hanged between thieves, we possess the fulfillment of the prophecy to which the Evangelist referred: “He was reckoned among the transgressors” [Mark 15:28, Vg.; cf. Isa. 53:12]. Why so? Surely that he might die in the place of the sinner, not of the righteous or innocent man. For he suffered death not because of innocence but because of sin. On the other hand, when we hear that he was acquitted by the same lips that condemned him (for Pilate was more than once compelled to give public testimony to his innocence [e.g., Matt. 27:23]), there should come to mind the utterance of another prophet: that he repaid what he did not steal [Ps. 69:4]. Thus we shall behold the person of a sinner and evildoer represented in Christ, yet from his shining innocence it will at the same time be obvious that he was burdened with another’s sin rather than his own. He therefore suffered under Pontius Pilate, and by the governor’s official sentence was reckoned among criminals. Yet not so—for he was declared righteous by his judge at the same time, when Pilate affirmed that he “found no cause for complaint in him” [John 18:38]. This is our acquittal: the guilt that held us liable for punishment has been transferred to the head of the Son of God [Isa. 53:12]. We must, above all, remember this substitution, lest we tremble and remain anxious throughout life—as if God’s righteous vengeance, which the Son of God has taken upon himself, still hung over us (Institutes 2.16.5).”  See also L. Berkhof, Systematic Theology, 339-340; Z. Ursinus, Commentary on the Heidelberg Catechism, 217-18.

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