Puritanism: I received a brief message last week from a new friend who mentioned his interest in reformed theology and the puritans. With no particular subject coming to mind and having an entire day – Christmas – to myself, I thought I would set down some reflections on “puritanism,” approached from an angle that may be new to some, and offered simply for consideration. What follows are scattered thoughts, shared not to diminish what was good, but to highlight certain features that may be less obvious, particularly to those inquiring after the way of Zion or newly come to the faith of Christ. There is no shortage of good to be spoken of these men, many of whom the Lord graciously used to proclaim the gospel and to strengthen believers in their joy in the Lord. I Thessalonians 1:6-8.
Before I begin with any critical reflection, I should also say something positive here, and gladly so. I have been familiar with the “puritans” for nearly forty years now, and by the mercy of Christ have spent many profitable and joyful hours in their company. Their seriousness and genuine concern for godliness is unmistakable. They were not careless toward sin, nor light or casual in their dealings with spiritual things, and their writings often reflect a sincere desire to walk closely with Christ in the Scriptures. The works of Owen, Goodwin, and Bunyan naturally surface in my mind, along with others, particularly among the early Particular Baptists, who, whatever their differences, seemed chiefly occupied with making Christ known.
So, these thoughts are not offered as an attempt to tear down or dismantle puritanism, nor to place it on a pedestal, but simply as reflections formed over years of reading their writings, an interest in the history of that period, and some familiarity with reformed theology. There is no denying that the puritan period was, in many ways, a time of God’s special activity, marked by earnest devotion and writings filled with gospel substance and Christ-centered truth. Others, of course, went before them, reformers like Luther, Calvin, and many more, &c., men whose influence has been assessed differently as time has passed. Much like the Puritans, they have been praised by some and carefully scrutinized by others.
Without wandering far from the present discussion, I recall a conversation from years past in which a man, earnest and confident in his convictions, reasoned that because the understanding of Christ held by others fell short of his own, it must therefore be fundamentally flawed. From this he concluded that the majority of the Reformers, the Puritans, and especially most modern exponents of these doctrinal systems must be regarded as “lost” simply because they did not, or could not, articulate Christ according to what he believed to be a final and perfect understanding of the “one true gospel.” It was an approach that suggested the gospel had been fully grasped at last, and that nothing further remained but to measure others by it.
It is striking that some, in their zeal for precision, speak as though the gospel were preserved only by flawless articulation, and as though those who labored faithfully in earlier generations must now be regarded with suspicion for failing to express every doctrine in the terms we presently employ. The certainty with which such judgments are made feels strangely out of step with the gospel itself, which teaches us that light comes gradually, and that salvation rests not upon precision of expression, but upon Christ Himself.
Reasoning of this sort shifts assurance away from Christ and places it in comprehension. It overlooks the fact that we were once opposed to God in our own minds, and that any true apprehension of the gospel we may now possess came not from our ability to understand rightly, but from God mercifully teaching us Christ. Ephesians 4:20. This way of thinking seems to overlook the patient manner in which God brings His children into the knowledge of His Son. It assumes that clarity is the result of having arrived, rather than the fruit of being taught.
In this well fortified camp, peace can never be spoken until doctrinal arrival is confirmed. Life is not acknowledged until belief is properly articulated, repentance is clearly defined, and the gospel is received in the way they have been taught to recognize it. Christ is confessed, yet life itself is treated as commencing only when the approved understanding is reached; and whatever work of Christ may have preceded that moment is rendered invisible, unrecognized, and theologically irrelevant. Deuteronomy 8:2. The gospel no longer declares what Christ has already secured; it functions as the dividing line between those who may be spoken “peace” to and those who must remain under suspicion. The “gospel of grace” is still affirmed, yet “grace” itself is only reserved for those who already see clearly, or rather, those who see as they have been taught to see, and that only with prescription lenses.
Yet the inescapable truth remains that whatever understanding or clarity we now enjoy did not originate within us, nor was it uncovered by our own ingenuity to search out these things, but was given, revealed to us, we trust, in Christ, made precious to us by the Spirit, and mercifully taught over time through experience. This understanding is not granted all at once, nor without correction, but gradually, often through much unlearning, and always with a growing awareness that apart from Christ we cannot see, know, or judge anything as we ought, and that whatever light we now walk in is entirely of grace. “And I will bring the blind by a way that they knew not; I will lead them in paths that they have not known, I will make darkness light before them, and crooked things straight. These things will I do unto them and not forsake them.” Isaiah 42:16.
With that said, I return to my subject, as what follows may now be clearer in light of what has already been said. One of the defining features of puritan spirituality, and perhaps its most enduring legacy, is what has often been called “experimental Calvinism.” By this was meant a religion that refused to settle for outward profession or mere agreement with gospel truth, but sought an inward, examined, and traceable experience of grace. Though grace alone was confessed as the ground of salvation, the day-to-day emphasis frequently rested upon careful self-observation, progress in holiness, and the search for confirming signs. Faith was expected to show clear signs, progress through recognized stages, and produce visible evidence by which both the believer and others could judge whether it was real.
At first glance, this emphasis appears sound, for Scripture itself speaks of fruit, growth, and transformation. The problem is not that such things exist, nor that they really do matter, but how they are made to function. In much puritan thought, inward experience gradually shifts from being the fruit of life in Christ to becoming the standard by which that life is measured. What should follow faith begins to govern it, and assurance is quietly redirected from Christ to the believer’s own experience.
What Scripture presents as the evidence of life is then pressed into service as the measure of life itself, so that growth “in grace and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ,” II Peter 3:18, is no longer received as the fruit of light shining from “the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ,” II Corinthians 4:6, but is turned into a standard by which life must be demonstrated rather than a blessing to be enjoyed. I John 5:11-13.
Closely tied to this was the idea of preparatory works. Before one could rest in Christ, one must first be suitably humbled, awakened, distressed, emptied, and made willing. Rather than being directed to Christ at once, he was taught to look inward first, to see whether the soil had been sufficiently plowed for grace to safely take root. Faith, in this framework, was no longer simply the persuasion of the gospel testimony, but a kind of inward act accompanied by proper affections and spiritual sensibilities. As a result, assurance was frequently grounded not in Christ’s finished work alone, but in the believer’s internal state. Frames, feelings, progress in sanctification, and moral seriousness were leaned upon as confirmatory signs. Here lies a vital flaw. When inward experience is elevated into a test of legitimacy, the soul is inevitably turned back upon itself. And the believer, instead of standing on a finished redemption, is left continually checking the ground beneath his feet. This is the point at which many sincere souls, especially those newly drawn to “calvinistic” theology, find themselves confused. Christ does not save us by producing proper inward qualifications. He saves by His blood, His righteousness, His obedience, His death, and His resurrection. Faith does not add to that work, nor does experience confirm it. Faith simply believes the testimony God has given concerning His Son.
Alongside this arose the notion that genuine believers are marked not only by coming to Christ as poor and needy, but by remaining in that state as a defining spiritual posture that must be preserved and displayed. What Scripture presents as our need for Christ is reshaped into a spiritual temperament that must be sustained and exhibited. Poverty of spirit, instead of leading us again and again to Christ, becomes something to be monitored within ourselves as though it were a spiritual condition to be maintained rather than a continual reason to look to Christ. In this way, even humility can be subtly turned into a qualification, and the believer’s attention is drawn away from Christ’s sufficiency back to the shifting state of his own soul.
Having said all this, the question is not whether experience matters, but whether we have allowed it to speak where only Christ should speak. Based upon the admonitions of Scripture to test all things, perhaps we should be cautious about how much weight we give to what is often called “christian experience” today. Much attention is given to inward feelings and impressions, yet little care is taken to ask whether these things are grounded in truth. What Scripture sets before us as true Christian experience is always the fruit of divine teaching. It is sustained as the word dwells in us and is applied by the Holy Spirit according to our real condition and need. In this way, true experience consists in the Spirit opening the Scriptures, giving them weight and reality in our hearts, and making them the ground upon which faith rests. John 6:63.
Through this work, Christ is revealed to us as He is set forth in the gospel, and the heart is drawn to Him in love, not apart from the Word, but through it. This is the Spirit’s own work, and He brings it about in a simple yet powerful way. He causes the truths of the gospel to live and settle in the believer’s mind, giving them weight and reality, so that they are no longer merely heard, but believed and rested in. I Thessalonians 2:13. Through this work, the believer grows in the knowledge of Christ, rooted in Him as the foundation and living from Him as the source of spiritual life. “As ye have therefore received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk ye in him; rooted and built up in him, and established in the faith, as ye have been taught, abounding therein with thanksgiving.” Colossians 2:6-7. And because this work is the Spirit’s own, it is always in full agreement with the Scriptures, as He brings understanding and assurance to what God has already spoken, sealing the gospel to the heart rather than adding to it. Ephesians 1:13-14.
So while I tend to view that period as shaped more by political pressures than by sustained spiritual life, there nevertheless appear to be unmistakable moments in which the Lord was pleased to preserve His truth. Important doctrines were clarified, the Scriptures were searched, and Christ was preached, though never without mixture, as is always the case when truth passes through human hands. If I have any closing thought to offer, it is simply this: The gospel does not ask us to authenticate Christ through experience, nor to sustain assurance by inward qualification. It sets forth what God has accomplished in His Son and calls us to believe that testimony. I John 5:9-11. When this order is preserved, experience finds its proper place, faith is freed from self-inspection, and Christ alone is honored as the beginning and the end of salvation. MPJ