Alongside the study of Scripture, I also enjoy researching history, especially British Parliamentarian and Reformation history, and have spent countless hours exploring those fields in particular. My interest also extends to early American history and the way our country was deeply influenced by scripture, dissenting faith, and the pursuit of liberty of conscience. Yet I have often noted that the Pilgrims did not come purely as champions of religious liberty in the modern sense. Many of them were driven not because they wished to extend freedom of conscience to all, but because they were losing the power to enforce their own religious authority in the old country. Ironically, in fleeing persecution, they sought a new land where they themselves could establish rigid boundaries, enforce conformity, and demand allegiance to their particular interpretation of Scripture.
In this way, the very impulse that led them across the sea was bound up with a sectarian rigidity that quickly turned to the persecution of those who differed, and none felt this more sharply than the Baptists. Though they too sought to live according to conscience and scripture, they became the targets of fines, banishment, and even imprisonment at the hands of those who themselves had fled persecution. The irony is striking, men who had once suffered under the heavy hand of religious conformity became, in the New World, enforcers of their own. This contradiction reminds us how easily the pursuit of liberty can be corrupted when men cling not to Christ, but to their own authority to rule in His name.
What brought this to mind were some words I recently came across from John Robinson, 1576-1625, the pastor of the English Separatists who later became known as the Pilgrims. Robinson’s congregation had settled in Leiden, Holland, in 1609, after fleeing persecution in England. By 1620, part of that congregation resolved to emigrate to the New World. Before their departure, Robinson preached his famous farewell sermon to those preparing to sail on the Speedwell (later transferring to the Mayflower) and eventually establish the Plymouth Colony. Robinson himself remained in Leiden with the larger portion of the congregation, intending to follow later, but he never did. Robinson’s farewell sermon to the Pilgrims contains a striking warning, one that feels as relevant now as then, a sober reminder to honor the past without idolizing it, and to look beyond men’s writings to the Scriptures themselves, where the light of Christ never grows dim. “For God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, hath shined in our hearts, to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.” II Corinthians 4:6.
These are Robinson’s words, “the Lutherans cannot be drawn beyond what Luther saw; the Calvinists, they stick where Calvin left them. This is a misery much to be lamented; for though they were shining lights in their times, yet God did not reveal His whole will unto them, and if they were alive today they would be as ready to and willing to embrace further light, as that they had received.” (John Robinson Farewell Sermon 1620.)
Robinson’s warning exposes a danger as real in our day as in his, the tendency to rest in the discoveries of our “fathers” rather than pressing on in the light of Christ. This danger is not confined to the followers of Luther or Calvin, but repeats itself in every age, men fastening themselves to teachers, hardening into systems, and neglecting the truth that only Christ is the Light. Just this past week, as I was driving home from work, I tuned in to a sermon audio feed from a local Protestant Reformed congregation. They were live-streaming what appeared to be an examination of a candidate for the ministry, essentially a public question-and-answer session. At first I had some difficulty following, not being familiar with their procedures, but it soon became clear that this young man, likely one of their theological students, was being carefully examined on matters of scripture and doctrine, and was expected to respond in harmony with their particular brand of Reformed Christianity. What struck me most was that, in sorting through their questions, he often leaned not on Scripture but on memorized lines from their confession and catechism, as though preparing for the pulpit required little more than passing a theological entrance exam.
These confessional forms, though originally intended as expressions of belief, have in practice become the framework upon which entire traditions prop up their doctrinal systems. It is not only the “reformed” who do this, but anybody that leans upon the writings of men, be it catechisms, councils, or creeds, as though they carried equal weight with Scripture itself. What was once a guide becomes the rule, and the Word of God is treated as commentary on man’s commentary. Here we see how easily reverence for tradition slips into reliance upon it. What begins as a safeguard for truth soon becomes a substitute for Scripture, and the very spirit Robinson lamented in his day takes root again, men halting where their fathers halted, instead of pressing on in the light of Christ, a light too often obscured beneath the shadow of human systems.
History shows how quickly movements harden into monuments of their founders. The Lutheran clings to Luther, the Calvinist to Calvin, the Puritan to Owen, the Baptist to Gill, the Methodist to Wesley, &c. In honoring men, their followers risk fossilizing partial glimpses of truth into rigid systems. But Christ’s riches cannot be confined to any one man. The Scriptures are ever-living, and the Spirit continues to unfold Christ to His people. John 16:14. God did not reveal the fullness of His counsel to Luther or Calvin, however brilliant their witness. Their strength was not in completing any given task, but in walking obediently in the light they were given. If they were alive today, Robinson hinted that they would be as quick to grasp fresh light as they were to embrace what was first revealed. It is a grave mistake when believers stop where their teachers stopped, as if the truth revealed to one man were the sum of all God’s counsel. The brightest lights of former days were only servants of Christ who walked faithfully in the measure of light given them. Their faithfulness was not in exhausting truth, but in following Christ as far as they were led. To turn their discoveries into a finished system is to betray the very example they set, and when their authority is appealed to in matters of faith and practice in place of Scripture, it can become a subtle contradiction of the very faith once delivered to the saints. May we be reminded that the Word of God is an inexhaustible treasury; and though we are grateful for the portion given to those before us, may the Lord lift our eyes to the greater light still shining in Scripture, where Christ is revealed in His inexhaustible glory. John 5:39.
In rereading the above, I should note that I am not speaking against confessions themselves, but only against giving them preeminence. Confessions of faith do serve a purpose. After all, anyone can claim, “the Bible is my creed,” but such a statement can mean almost anything. A confession at least attempts to summarize what a body of believers understands the Scriptures to teach, offering clarity and guardrails where vague appeals to Scripture often fail. At their best, they can help distinguish truth from error and remind us where the “church” has stood in the past; yet they must never be treated as equal to the Word of God, for their value lies only in how faithfully they reflect the Scriptures, not in standing beside them as a final authority. MPJ