Experimental Calvinism: Looking back through some letters from over twenty years ago, I was reminded of a time when I corresponded with several brethren connected to the Gospel Standard Baptists. They spoke with a real seriousness about sin and the Lord’s dealings, and often very sweetly of Christ. Their background showed in their language, giving it a certain weight and distinct tone.
Although I attended Zion Strict Baptist Church in Grand Rapids for around a year when we first relocated from Arizona to this area, I always remained somewhat on the outside looking in. Nevertheless, I became acquainted with several brethren connected to them over the years. Their assemblies were often small, many consisting largely of their own households, yet there is something beautiful in seeing families gathered together under the sound of the gospel of the grace of God. I cannot think back on those days without thankfulness. The Lord is kind to bring such people into our lives to direct us toward Christ.
One of these men pastored Ebenezer Strict Baptist Church in Clapham, South London, where Jesse Delves preached the gospel. I still have a number of his typed letters, substantial, thoughtful, and enough to form a small volume. After recently rereading a few of them, I was struck again by how weighty and rich in spiritual reflection they are, so much so that I’ve even been trying to find a way to pass them along to his family.
During this period in my life, I embraced much of what is often called “experimental” language, and it shaped how I thought and spoke. But over time, and through a closer searching of the Scriptures, I’ve found it necessary to revisit those things. Not to dismiss what is good, but to weigh it more carefully. Language has a way of shaping thought, and sometimes more than we realize. And this raises the question: is everything commonly called “experimental” truly grounded in the simplicity of the gospel, or does some of it subtly turn the focus inward?
By “experimental,” I’m referring to that way of speaking about the truth which places emphasis on inward experience, how a man feels, what he passes through, and the exercises of his soul. At its best, this is simply an attempt to describe the Lord’s dealings with His people, and there is something right in that. Scripture itself speaks of being taught, tried, humbled, and brought low. But the real issue is not the existence of such experience, but how it is used, whether it points us to Christ, or becomes the standard by which everything is judged.
And this is where the difficulty begins. What was meant to describe the Lord’s work begins to function as a way of measuring it. The question shifts from what God has made known of Christ to what a man finds within himself. From there, he is drawn into continual self-examination, trying to determine whether his experience is real enough or sufficient, yet never arriving at rest, because the ground he is looking at is always changing. The result is a lingering uncertainty, even where there is sincerity.
True, not every claim to grace is genuine, and Scripture plainly warns us of this. II Corinthians 13:5. A man may adopt the language of the truth and yet never truly know Christ. Feelings can deceive, the heart is treacherous, and there is a right and necessary place for self-examination. So far, all of this is both scriptural and necessary. But the difficulty begins when examination, instead of serving the truth becomes the means by which truth itself is determined. Instead of looking first to what God has testified of His Son, the attention slowly turns inward: Do I truly feel these things as deeply and sincerely as I should?
Over time, this tendency begins to show itself in the very language being used. As I went back through some of these old letters, especially those written by the friend mentioned above, whose correspondence carried a very elevated form of this experimental language, I noticed certain expressions appearing again and again: “Was it only words?” “Have I that gold?” “Am I deceived?” “Do they have the root?” “Do I feel real union?” Now, there is something understandable in such language, and I do not question the sincerity behind it, but over time the soul can become so occupied with measuring its own condition that inward experience becomes the lens through which everything is judged. Even Christ Himself begins to be viewed largely through the state of one’s feelings about Him.
And this is what makes the matter so subtle. Christ is certainly present in such language. These men spoke often of justification, the fullness of Christ, the preciousness of His blood, and the glory of sovereign grace. Yet, in practice, the weight gradually falls elsewhere – not so much upon what God has testified concerning His Son, but upon whether one has truly felt, known, or inwardly confirmed these things within himself. This brother wrote, “Oh to have a confirmation of it.” And while I understand what he meant by that, notice where the emphasis falls – not upon Christ crucified, nor upon the objective truth of the gospel, but upon obtaining an inward confirmation of one’s experience. And because experience itself is always fluctuating, deepening, fading, strengthening, weakening, the result is often a lingering uncertainty, even in sincere believers.
Not to single out this brother unfairly, for I believe he truly loved Christ and faithfully preached the gospel, but some of his letters help illustrate the very tendency I am trying to describe. He was extremely sharp in exposing false assurance, and much of what he wrote was genuinely perceptive. One line in particular stood out to me where he spoke of “self going snugly to sleep… thinking about Christ.” There is something deeply searching in that, because it exposes the danger of resting in religious thoughts, language, or impressions without any true revelation of Christ. Yet this is also where the difficulty begins to unfold. Again and again the focus returns to questions such as: Is the soul truly humbled? Is the groaning real? Is this the right kind of experience? And little by little, the soul becomes occupied less with Christ Himself and more with examining the state of its own inward condition. Clarity becomes suspect, settled peace is treated cautiously, and assurance itself is viewed as something fragile and uncertain. And in certain cases, this atmosphere can gradually produce the impression that a believer ought never to speak too confidently, rest too freely, or feel too settled, lest such peace be mistaken for presumption. What begins as a necessary caution against deception can gradually develop into a continual habit of inward scrutiny.
The difficulty, then, is not with spiritual experience itself, but with allowing experience to become the interpreter of the gospel. Scripture does not teach us to ignore inward exercises, but neither does it direct us to rest in them. I John 5:9-10. The believer is continually called away from himself and unto Christ; not to determine whether he has attained the right depth of feeling, but to behold the Son of God revealed in the gospel. Hebrews 12:2. For faith ultimately rests, not upon the steadiness of our inward experience, but upon the finished work of Christ and the certainty of His promise. MPJ
PostScript: After finishing this post, I happened upon an old photograph of the brother mentioned above, and I confess it affected me deeply. I would never want my words to come across as dismissive or disrespectful toward him, because he was one of the kindest and most spiritually serious men I have ever corresponded with. I can still remember the long letters he would send, often written with great care and thoughtfulness. In one of them he mentioned that his wife had just given birth to their tenth child. Looking back now, I realize how greatly the Lord used him in my life. And seeing his face again after all these years has only stirred up gratitude in my heart that the Lord should ever allow me fellowship, in any measure, with those who truly love His Son.