Writings of Samuel Rutherford: Okay, I promise that once I get back to my personal Facebook page, I’m turning off these Reformed advertisements. They have been giving me plenty to think about, though. Every time I visit FB another one pops up, and before long I’m thinking less about the product and more about the assumptions behind it. That’s just how I’m wired. I tend to overthink everything.
The latest advertisement announced that someone is republishing the complete writings of Samuel Rutherford in English. That sent me walking over to my own bookshelf to see what I already had. Before long I was flipping through books I hadn’t opened in probably twenty-five years. To my surprise, I found two old copies. One is a 1900 edition published by the Religious Tract Society of London. The other is a newer Banner of Truth edition of his Letters, complete with Andrew Bonar’s biographical sketch.
As I thumbed through them, I wasn’t really looking for Rutherford. I was looking for my younger self. I wanted to see what I had underlined, what I had written in the margins, and what had seemed important enough to stop and think about all those years ago. To my surprise, there wasn’t nearly as much underlining as I expected. There were pencil marks scattered throughout the older volume, so I know I read it carefully. But compared with some of the books on my shelves, Rutherford simply didn’t leave much of an impression on me. That naturally made me wonder: What is it about Samuel Rutherford that continues to generate so much enthusiasm? Is it the richness of his devotional writing? His historical importance? Or have we, at times, developed a tendency to value certain authors simply because they’ve become part of the Reformed canon?
Reading through his letters again, I was reminded why Rutherford has remained so beloved for generations. He wasn’t primarily trying to write systematic theology; he was writing as a pastor, speaking to troubled consciences and weary saints. His writing is deeply devotional and filled with the language of love and communion with Christ. Much of it draws heavily from the imagery of the Song of Solomon, which Rutherford understood as portraying the intimate fellowship between Christ and His people. Many readers have found that language deeply moving, and I can certainly understand why.
One underlined paragraph in particular caught my attention. Rutherford writes: ‘Therefore dig deep, and labor, and take pains for him, and set aside as much time in the day for him as you can; he will be won with labor.’ That paragraph reminded me of an observation I’ve made before. In devotional writings that rely heavily on allegorical interpretation, the practical emphasis can gradually shift from the sufficiency of Christ to the believer’s pursuit of communion with Him, even while the doctrines of sovereign grace remain firmly confessed. Perhaps that is one reason the distinction between law and gospel is never merely academic. It becomes evident in the counsel we give. One points weary sinners to Christ; the other, however unintentionally, sends them back to themselves.
At the same time, it is easy to understand why Rutherford’s writings have remained so influential, as they were clearly intended to instruct, encourage, and comfort his readers. Yet that also illustrates an important point. The way we encourage God’s people is never theologically neutral. Our deepest convictions inevitably shape the counsel we give, and it is often in those moments of practical encouragement, more than in our formal doctrinal statements, that the practical emphasis of our theology becomes most evident.
Two men may both confess God’s sovereignty and salvation by grace, yet consistently direct the believer’s attention in very different places. One repeatedly points the soul to Christ; the other, often without intending to, places greater emphasis upon the believer’s pursuit, experience, and spiritual exercises. As I read Rutherford today, that difference stands out to me much more clearly than it once did.
Another interesting point, especially on the heels of sharing my recent thoughts on religious liberty and the doctrinal distinctives of the early London Particular Baptists, is that Samuel Rutherford stood on the opposite side of many of those questions. In A Survey of the Spiritual Antichrist – 1648 – he wrote strongly against a number of the Independent and Baptist movements of his day. That doesn’t make him unusual for his time, but it is a helpful reminder that some of the very men we admire today were engaged in vigorous disagreements with other believers over matters they considered deeply important.
Something else I had forgotten is that Rutherford wasn’t only known for his devotional writings and pastoral letters. He also devoted a great deal of time and energy to defending what he believed were the essential doctrines of the Reformed faith. In that work, he argued vigorously against what he regarded as the errors of Antinomianism and other movements of his day. He was deeply committed to the abiding authority of the moral law, the Presbyterian form of church government, and the confessional theology of the Scottish Reformation. These weren’t minor subjects to Rutherford; they were central to his understanding of the Christian faith and the life of the church.
That also reminded me how differently I approach many of those same questions today. Over the years, my own understanding of the relationship between law and gospel has changed considerably. So when I pick up Rutherford now, I’m not simply reading an old devotional writer. I’m reading someone whose theological framework differs from mine at several important points. That doesn’t mean there is nothing to learn from him. It simply means I want to read him carefully, thankful for whatever the Lord is pleased to teach me through his writings, while testing every conclusion by the Scriptures.
Perhaps the advertisement raised a larger question than its publishers intended. One of the men promoting the books spoke of the need to ‘reacquaint ourselves with the Reformed heritage.’ I found myself wondering whether the apostles would have described the church’s greatest need that way. Their constant concern was to exalt Christ, proclaim His gospel, and open the Scriptures. That is where they continually directed the people of God, and I suspect that is where our attention belongs as well. MPJ