A Pacific Address
To the highly respected, learned, and celebrated professors of divinity in the universities of the United Provinces of Holland; pastors of the Reformed churches; and zealous defenders of the faith once delivered to the saints.
The present age has produced so many books that the world is nearly exhausted by them, and the church certainly strains under their weight. This is especially striking given that the church has never flourished more than in those seasons when, in the pure simplicity of faith and love, and without any appetite for controversy, it fixed its attention on the teaching of our Lord alone and drew its truth from those writings that could make David wiser than all his teachers, and equip the man of God completely for every good work. It is genuinely difficult, in our time, to write anything that will satisfy readers. Learning is everywhere abundant, or at least the pretense of it is; attachment to long-held positions is stubborn; the study of narrow specialties is intense; and the judgments passed on other people's work are often uncharitable, a tendency that can affect even good people without their fully realizing it. Anyone who hopes, through writing, to satisfy the refined tastes of careful readers, or those engaged in a broader search for knowledge, seems to be overestimating his own abilities and misreading the spirit of the age.
I am well aware of my own limitations, and no one who has spent any real time in the world can remain ignorant of how it works. It therefore seems right to explain why I am presenting myself to the public again, and to lay out the purpose of the work I now offer to the churches.
And to whom, reverend and learned Sirs, should I offer these reasons if not to you, who are qualified to judge what I have written, and whose approval of my work I deeply desire, second only to God's and my own conscience? Let me state plainly at the outset: what has moved me to write is not some restless compulsion to put words on a page, nor a burning hunger for recognition, nor a jealous spirit, nor any contemptible desire to tear open wounds already inflicted on the churches. It is not the ugly satisfaction of smearing someone else's reputation by twisting what is genuinely sound, and it is certainly not the shameful ambition to start, fuel, or prolong conflict. Beyond my own word on the matter, the work itself, even on a casual reading, will clear me of any such motives.
Seeing the minds of sincere believers disturbed by the careless assertions of some writers, and by their unconventional interpretations of Scripture, was deeply troubling to me. The suspicions of others added to this concern, suspicions not always guided by charity, whatever role prudence may have played. Beyond this, the doctrine of the covenant of grace, which explains how sinners are reconciled to God, along with the varied ways that covenant has been administered throughout history, has been a source of painful controversy in the Netherlands. In fact, nearly every theological dispute currently in circulation, if we set aside the new methods of interpreting prophecy and the ideas borrowed from modern philosophy that are being unwisely imported into theology, can and should be traced back to this central doctrine.
For these reasons, I judged it the most pressing subject to address. I have handled it, however, in a way that remains consistent with the truths the churches have long received, and without the flippancy or harshness that the law of love forbids. With that in mind, I chose not to limit myself to bare polemical disputation, which is generally unproductive and, when stripped of its bitterness, tends to be entirely without elegance.
I chose to begin this subject from its very foundation, working to explain it as methodically and clearly as I could. Throughout, I have tried to illuminate the more difficult passages of Scripture, examine carefully the language the Holy Spirit uses, and connect everything to the practice of faith and godliness, and to the glory of God in Christ, so that my exposition might be both useful and engaging. Nothing proved more profitable and delightful to me personally, and nothing more effectively convinces the minds of others, than a clear and measured demonstration of truth to the conscience. Such a demonstration works by gradual and pleasing steps: it begins with plain, widely accepted truths, links them together carefully, and moves steadily toward the more difficult points, drawing the reader to agree with those points just as firmly as with the ones that were obvious from the start. And in doing so, it brings certain previously unknown truths before the innermost part of the soul, leaving it arrested in something close to wonder at the contemplation of God's remarkable perfections.
I found it absolutely necessary to engage with opposing viewpoints: those of the public adversaries of the Reformed churches, among whom I count first the Socinians and the Remonstrants, the Dutch Arminian party, who have corrupted the doctrine of God's covenants with their reckless interpretations; and those of certain brothers in the faith who have taken it upon themselves to construct new theological systems, nearly uprooting sound doctrine in the process. I like to think that no fair-minded critic could deny I have acted with honesty and restraint. I have framed each controversy accurately, never attributing to anyone a position he would not recognize as his own, and I have relied only on arguments that first satisfied my own conscience. If those arguments are not convincing on their own merits, I don't believe that adding more heat would make them any stronger. I was especially careful to treat the views of my fellow believers with generosity. I never went hunting for a careless word, a clumsy phrase, or an awkward expression just to score a point against them. It seemed far better to show how much the orthodox agree, and how the less careful expressions can be charitably read, reserving criticism only for those positions that are genuinely different. And those genuine differences, I dare say, will turn out to be fewer and less significant than is commonly assumed, provided we examine them without bias.
Even so, I could not simply ignore certain strange expressions, foreign interpretations, or contradictory claims; and I occasionally note the dangers some of them carry, though without any ill will toward their authors. For I will be honest: I share the view of those who believe the doctrine of the covenant has long rested on too solid a foundation in the churches to need new theoretical frameworks, and in those frameworks I cannot find the rigor or the usefulness that sound theology requires.
The idea of a threefold covenant of grace has been widely promoted: the first, under the promise, in which grace and freedom prevailed without the burden of an accusing law; the second, under the law, when the Old Testament era subjected the faithful to the rule of angels, the fear of death throughout their lives, and ultimately to the curse, denying the fathers any true or lasting blessings; the third, under the Gospel, when the godly began to be freed from the rule of angels, from the fear of temporal death, and from the curse that strict observance of the ceremonial law carried with it, and when they at last enjoyed true and lasting blessings: the circumcision of the heart, the law written within it, full and genuine forgiveness of sins, the spirit of adoption, and things of that kind.
This idea, I have to say, does not seem to me worthy of the enormous attention it has received in so many academic lectures, so many sermons, and so many books published in both Latin and our own language, as though the whole of theological learning depended on it. In the work that follows, I have shown that however these doctrines are explained, they are dreadful to even state aloud, and they cannot be defended without twisting Scripture.
Far more dangerous, in my view, are the opinions of certain scholars who are otherwise highly learned, yet deny that a covenant of works was ever made with Adam. They are reluctant to accept that the death threatened as the penalty for sin included any bodily death, and they deny that spiritual and heavenly blessings (the very blessings we now receive through Christ) were promised to Adam on the condition of perfect obedience.
By means of a stale and artificial distinction, they divide the sufferings of Christ into two categories: those that were painful and those that were judicial. They then argue that only the judicial sufferings, or as they sometimes soften the claim, primarily the judicial sufferings, were truly satisfactory. In doing so, they effectively exclude His anguish in the garden, the sentence pronounced against Him by both the Jewish council and the Roman governor, the wounds inflicted on His body by flogging, His nailing to the cursed cross, and finally death itself. On all of these matters, I have spoken my mind freely and honestly, as befits a defender of truth and an opponent of falsehood. That same honorable description was applied to the emperor Constantine IV by the Sixth Ecumenical Council, which convened at Constantinople (AD 681), and it is a standard that everyone in our calling should strive to deserve.
I have also noted some matters of lesser importance that seemed to lack solid scriptural grounding, or that were conceived less carefully than they should have been. This labor was not without its rewards. Amphilochius, the early church bishop, was rightly praised by Basil the church father for believing that no word used concerning God should pass without the most careful inquiry into its meaning. I have pursued this same standard, however, without bitterness or mockery: not to rebuke the authors themselves, but so that the diligent reader might benefit from seeing their errors identified, as Polibius somewhere puts it.
I hope the learned and fair-minded will not take it badly if (to borrow nearly the words Augustine uses when he expresses his disagreement with Cyprian) while I cannot reach their level of merit, while I acknowledge my own writings as inferior to many of theirs, while I admire their ingenuity, take delight in what they say, and hold their virtues in high regard, I still cannot agree with them on every point, but instead make use of the freedom to which our Lord has called us. This is especially true when they can see that I have gladly embraced their own brilliant insights: what they discovered through careful study of the original languages, what they skillfully recovered from the remains of previously unknown antiquity, what they confirmed with sound judgment or explained with clarity, and what I have commended warmly to the reader.
They will also find that wherever I consider them correct, however harshly others may judge them, I have defended them wholeheartedly and cleared away the charges of absurdity and novelty. I have done this so often and so carefully that some will no doubt say I have gone too far. But I cannot bring myself to regret having dealt so honestly with them. How could anyone have done otherwise, if he is not bound to any faction, not enslaved to his own preferences or anyone else's, but has devoted himself to truth alone and cares not who is speaking but what is being said? Whoever loves the peace of Jerusalem would rather see controversies reduced than multiplied, and will gladly learn that several things once treated as matters of dispute are, in fact, harmless or even beneficial.
All good people are rightly offended by the kind of intellectual recklessness that, in our day, launches dogmatic attacks against sound and established opinions, and that boldly offers interpretations of prophecy that are often more absurd than illuminating, dragging in whatever material suits the argument, even when that material contains nothing beyond the basic doctrines of our common faith and Christian conduct. This abuse does no small damage to public life and to the sacred work of ministry. It is no surprise, then, that the more passionate among us have responded to this recklessness with the sharp criticism it deserves, and perhaps with more force than was strictly necessary.
Even so, moderation should govern everything we do. I cannot endorse the approach of those who, while discussing points of disagreement, feel the need to catalog not merely dozens of controversies but hundreds of them, and who frequently bring a kind of cruel eloquence to bear on subjects that deserve far gentler treatment. Whether this style of disputation does anything to advance saving knowledge or build up the souls of believers, I will leave for others to judge. What I am certain of is this: the enemies of our church take great delight in it, and quietly rejoice that our internal disputes are as numerous and as heated as the disputes we carry on with them. And not so quietly, either, for they have never stopped throwing this charge in our faces, and they never will. It is a reproach that, I am sorry to say, is not easily answered.
How much better it would be if we devoted our greatest efforts to reducing, healing, and, if at all possible, ending every controversy among us. Make this your chief concern, reverend and learned sirs. The godly who grieve over the wounds in Joseph's house call for it; the churches entrusted to your care call for it; and Jesus himself, the king of truth and peace, calls for it and expects it from you.
They plead with you in the most earnest terms: "If therefore there be any consolation in Christ, if any comfort of love, if any fellowship of the Spirit, if any tenderness and mercies, fulfill my joy, fulfill the joy of all the saints, fulfill the joy of our Lord Jesus himself, that you may be like-minded, having the same love, being of one accord, of one mind." We have already seen more than enough quarrels, slanders, and suspicions; more than enough strife among brothers, which, I assure you, will give no one any real cause for triumph; more than enough internal divisions that are tearing us apart; and more than enough passion run to anger. From this point on, let the love of division, the hunger for dominance, and the use of divisive labels be driven from among us. Let all combative, mocking, and venomous writing be set aside, since it only fans the flames of harmful disputes.
But if we must write on these controversies, let us lay aside every corrupt disposition that distorts our thinking and misleads our readers. Let us fight with arguments, not insults, keeping in mind the words of Aristophanes: it is dishonorable, and entirely unworthy of poets, to rail against one another. How much less does it become Christians to do so. The streams of theology are pure; they rise only from the fountain of sacred learning and should never be polluted with the murky waters of ancient or modern philosophy. Let us avoid harsh and unusual expressions, and crude or reckless assertions, from which come "envy, strife, railings, and evil suspicions." The instruments of both covenants should be handled diligently by all, but with sacred reverence and humility. Let no one congratulate himself on his commentaries simply because they contain something new and unknown to those who came before him. Whoever believes he has discovered something better than the received opinion should offer it to the public with modesty, without belittling his brothers; not asserting or deciding rashly, but submitting his thoughts to the scrutiny of the learned and the judgment of the church; not forcing them on ordinary believers to the confusion of their minds; and not rushing to press them on impressionable young students, who are poorly equipped to judge such weighty matters. Nor should anyone reject a reading simply because it is new, provided it fits the meaning of the words, aligns with scriptural language, conforms to the analogy of faith, or respects the relationship the text bears to others. Cajetan, the Roman Catholic cardinal and theologian, whom our Chameir, the French Reformed theologian, commends, put it well on this point: "If a new sense of the text presents itself, though it differs from that of theologians in general, let the reader judge it for himself." And elsewhere he writes: "Let no one refuse to accept a new sense of sacred Scripture simply because it differs from what the ancients gave; for God has not bound Himself to the truth of their interpretations." Let the depths of prophecy also be searched diligently, but reverently, without twisting the Scriptures, and without violating the boundaries it has pleased God to set around them as a guard against unaided human insight; lest the one who attempts to peer into the majesty be overwhelmed by the glory.
Let no one, regardless of how great their reputation, use their authority to bind the free consciences of believers. As Clement of Rome once said, let the truth be drawn from the Scriptures themselves. In religious matters, everything should stand or fall by Scripture alone, and all controversies should be settled by it. The ancient councils were guided by the sacred and undefiled Gospels of our Lord Jesus Christ. That said, no one should carelessly use this principle as an excuse to withhold agreement from expressions that are drawn directly from God's Word, that align with Scripture, that serve as bonds of church unity, marks of orthodoxy, barriers against heresy, and boundaries for undisciplined minds. To treat such expressions as though they were remnants of the Tower of Babel, forcing people to think and speak alike in religion, would be a serious mistake.
No one should single out one modern theologian as their personal guide, receiving everything that person says as if it were divine revelation, treating him as a new teacher and light to the world (as the ancients said of Basil), and regarding everyone else by comparison as children or dwarfs. This is especially misguided when the man himself likely insists that he never intended to introduce anything new or to become the founder of a sect. On the other hand, no one should dismiss such a person as though nothing true, nothing good, and nothing useful for understanding Scripture could be learned from him. God does not move devout people to search the Scriptures night and day without opening to them something of the treasures of His sacred wisdom.
Let us proclaim the good news of the Gospel, celebrate it with the church, and make the most of it in our own lives. No one who has generally expressed the truth with skill and eloquence should be harshly condemned for a careless word or a clumsy phrase that slipped into their writing. Poison does not hide in syllables, nor does truth live in sound alone but in intention; and godliness is not found in the ringing of brass but in the meaning behind the words. Even so, let us all strive to express ourselves as precisely as we can, and resist the urge to defend what we or our friends have said carelessly, lest others hold it against us. Instead, as far as honesty, truth, charity, and the judgment of thoughtful people will allow, let us set aside, retract, or correct our mistakes. This is exactly what many great thinkers, both ancient and modern, have done, and it has served their reputations well.
Let none of our fellow believers be branded as heretics on the basis of what someone else claims logically follows from their words, when they themselves reject and abhor that conclusion. Solid learning, conduct that reflects genuine Christian holiness, a peaceable spirit, and a faithful and quiet fulfillment of our responsibilities will earn far more respect than reckless, heated zeal or the forceful outbursts of a passionate temperament. Such outbursts are designed, more often than not, to elevate our own status and sense of importance, even when the cause of God is offered as the justification for them.
Let some freedom also be given to scholars in how they interpret Scripture passages, in the arguments they choose to defend the faith we hold in common, in the terms and language they use, and in how they resolve difficult questions (for in our present state of limited understanding, we cannot expect everyone to think and speak identically). But let this freedom stay within the boundaries of humility, wisdom, and love, so that it does not decay into arrogant carelessness and turn our Zion into a Babel.
These, reverend and learned gentlemen, are my deepest hopes; these are my convictions, which I commend to your wisdom, faith, and devotion. I commend you and your faithful labors to the grace of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ, who can equip you fully for every good work, to do His will, working within you what is pleasing in His sight; and who, when you have at last fought the good fight of faith to its happy conclusion, will crown you with an everlasting glory. This has long been, and remains today, the most earnest prayer of, reverend and learned gentlemen, your fellow laborer and servant in the Lord,
Utrecht, Oct. 20, 1693.
H. WITSIUS.
