Calvinism and America

Dr. David T. Crum is an Assistant Professor of History at Truett-McConnell University. In addition to the B.S. degree, Dr. Crum holds two M.A. degrees (Theological Studies and History, respectively) and the earned Doctor of Philosophy degree in Historical Theology.

The Protestant Reformation changed Europe, giving birth to religious freedom and redefining what it meant to be a Christian. Once discovered by Europeans, the New World and all of its land played an essential role in the continued advancement of religious liberty.  While Catholic settlement dominated modern-day South and Central America, Englishmen, and other Europeans, many of whom were descendants of reformers within the Protestant Reformation, sought refuge in a new territory focused on Christian liberty.

            From the Pilgrims to the Puritans, a mass migration of Europeans continued, leading to a unique Christian colonization of North America. While it would be irresponsible to state that every family migrated because of religious freedom, historians still acknowledge the fundamental fact that religious liberty and persecution of Christians played a monumental part in the forming of America.

            Within the original colonies, Puritanism dominated New England and even parts of the southern settlements. The religious atmosphere in the former colonies of the time of the Great Awakening remained closely associated with the Reformation, more specifically, the teachings of John Calvin. Any study of early America must recognize the impact of Calvin and reformed thought in the country’s history, including the settlement of the colonies and ultimate involvement and victory in the American Revolution.

Settlement and Early American Ideals

            The earliest European settlers had deep roots in the Reformed faith. Quoting historian George Bancroft, Presbyterian Loraine Boettner (1901-1990) wrote, “Calvinism came to America in the Mayflower… the Pilgrims Fathers were Calvinists in their faith according to the straightest system.”[1] To properly understand the impact of the Protestant Reformation on settlement in the New World, one must comprehend the religious fight endured by the Reformers, which in many locations in Europe resulted in death or burning at the stake.

            Calvin’s teachings dominated his town of Geneva, which some scholars argue the earliest Americans sought to emulate. Lutheran theologian Harold L. Senkbeil argues, “The popular piety of Evangelicalism has assumed the central role in America.”[2] Adding, “Some have deliberately set about completing John Calvin’s dream of building a society governed only by Christian principles.”[3] Calvin unmistakably emphasized grace in salvation but also underscored regeneration and sanctification. The Puritans perhaps best embodied this religious zeal, mimicking the teachings of Calvin.

Both the historical and theological fields of academia regularly attack and criticize Puritans, but they often misunderstand them. Accused of being legalists, they stressed God’s grace and mercy but also underlined God’s sovereignty and always maintained an admiration for their Creator. They believed in freedom but limited the concept of freedom to salvation in Jesus Christ. Referencing Geneva and early Puritans, R.C. Reed (1851-1925) wrote:

It is a familiar fact that the city of Geneva could not at first endure the severity of morals which Calvin had tried to enforce, and for this reason expelled him. He was soon recalled, however, and Geneva became an asylum for those who loved righteousness. Both his teaching and his spirit found a home in the hearts of the Puritans in England. Their name is the imperishable memorial of the scrupulous sanctify of their lives.[4]

These same Puritans and their descendants settled in America. Calvinists discovered New England and formed communities throughout the colonies. Reed explained where their settlements occurred, “Puritans to New England, the Dutch Calvinists to New York and Pennsylvania, the Scotch-Irish to the Valley of Virginia, and the Huguenots to the Carolinas.”[5] N.S. McFetridge (1842-1886) taught similarly, “This great American nation, which stretches her vast and varied territory from sea to sea, and from the bleak hills of the North to the sunny plains of the South, was the purchase chiefly of the Calvinists, and the inheritance which they bequeathed to all liberty-loving people.”[6] Senkbeil maintains, “In the rich soil of the colonial work ethic and the fierce spirit of independence, Calvinism grew and flourished.”[7] Adding, “Certainly the founding fathers of American religion held to traditional Calvinist teachings.”[8] From the creation of Harvard to Yale, educational institutes prescribed to Calvinistic thought.  

Many people often refer to Jonathan Edwards as one of the last Puritans. Edwards, along with another Calvinist, George Whitfield, receives credit for stirring up an eagerness for religious liberty in the colonists, eventually leading to the American Revolution. The logic states that genuine freedom is found only in Jesus Christ, not in any human, whether they are a king or political leader. Kings oppressed beliefs, while Jesus’ teachings laid freedom within the Scriptures and Christian living. Reed taught, “Calvinistic belief is to free the soul in which it finds lodgment from the fear of man, and to brace it for rendering unswerving allegiance to God.”[9]

The Fight for Freedom

Although a variety of Christians from several faiths served in the American Revolution, an impressive number of Calvinists fought for independence. Boettner shared, “It is estimated that of the 3,000,000 Americans at the time of the American Revolution, 900,000 were of the Scotch or Scotch-Irish origin, 600,000 were Puritan English, and 400,000 were German or Dutch Reformed. In addition to this the Episcopalians had a Calvinistic confession in their Thirty-Nine articles; and many French Huguenots also had come to this western world.”[10]

In a sense, the colonists viewed their own revolution as a continuation of the Protestant Reformation. How could religious freedom centered on Christ exist under a monarchy? For Christianity to flourish, the colonists felt the absolute freedom of political matters connected to religious liberty needed to be the foundation of their land. Acknowledging God’s sovereignty and His role in such matters, William P. Breed (1816-1889) commented, “Nations are armies, each soldier free, but God is the commander. All the world’s on a stage, and all the men and women are merely players, but God wrote the play, and he determines the entrance and exits of the actors and maintains sovereign control over their actions.”[11] Breed rightly pointed out the providential emphasis on Calvinism, which connects God’s sovereignty and absolute control and determination of historical and current events. R.C. Reed similarly wrote, “A republican state took their rise about the same time in Geneva; and from that day this Calvinism has ever been identified with the cause of liberty, or the rights of man.”[12]

            The Founding Fathers knew their history and held discussions of their rights, often commenting on past Biblical accounts of the Israelites. Breed shared the logic of Patriot John Witherspoon, a Presbyterian minister, “It is as creatures of God, created in the image of God, that man possess those inalienable rights. And as the God of the Bible is their only source, the religion of the Bible is their only effective conservator.”[13] R.C. Reed, quoting German Leopold von Ranke, argued, “Calvin is virtually the founder of America.”[14] From the battle of Bunker Hill to the formation of the Declaration of Independence, several colonists adopted Calvin’s ideals, as taught by Ranke, to fight for freedom. Reed commented on the declaration, “The first declaration of independence was put forth by the Presbyterians of Mecklenburg, N.C. and the first religious body to speak out in favor of separation from Great Britain was the Presbyterian Synod of Philadelphia.”[15]

            Using the teachings of Romans 13 and Colossians 1, Calvinists felt comfort in their pursuit of freedom. If their nation respected and acknowledged God, Calvinists believed God would provide freedom from England and bless their nation. John Clover Monsma (1890-1970) agreed writing, “God institutes governments through the instrumentality of the people… For the Calvinist, it is extremely easy to respect laws and ordinances of the government… the government is God’s servant. That means that as MEN, all government officials stand on an equal footing with their subordinates; have no claim to superiority in any sense whatever.”[16]  The misuse of the Romans’ and Colossians’ teachings is possible, specifically leading to the notion that Christians must adhere to all governmental laws, even those not in alignment with the Christian faith. However, such reasoning is a grave error; as Jesus taught, one only submits to humans’ laws when such guidelines do not jeopardize His teachings. Here, the colonists were creating a brand-new nation, forming its religious and human liberty ideals. Their justification for a rebellion derived from their Christian faith and principles being challenged and even in jeopardy at the hands of English rule. McFetridge argued, “The various bodies of dissenters, mainly Calvinists, which had settled in the colonies, had been driven away from their fatherland, not by the persecutions of the Romish Church, but by the tyranny of British sovereigns and the tolerance of the Anglican Church.”[17] McFetridge wrote, “The Calvinists, from their religious principles and by the free constitution of their churches, were naturally arrayed against monarchy when monarchy meant despotism.”[18]

Strongly adhering to Calvin’s teachings on God’s sovereignty and involvement in wars, American Calvinists found comfort in the idea of providence and preordination. Calvin specifically taught:

He (God) bids us to live chastely and refrain from all violence. However, when wars break out in the world, when there is bloodshed and countless acts of rape, will we say when these occur that God failed in his counsel to consider what was right? Do we think that he would let fortune prevail, as if he were asleep in heaven, or was enjoying a delightful rest? What a blasphemous idea! It would be like making God into an idol… If God did not determine everything in this world and keep Satan and all his evildoers in check, we would most certainly be doomed to perish a hundred times every minute of the day. Moreover, unless we realize that wars and similar things are judgments which God uses to punish our sins, we would surely not be brought to repentance.[19]

Many colonists and patriots cleaving to Calvinism saw the American Revolution as a punishment to England, in their eyes viewing the English as nothing more than adherents to similar teachings of the Papacy. The Lord’s will did play out, and in fact, determined American independence.

            Sadly, the nation’s influence and connection to Calvinism quickly disappeared not long after the Second Great Awakening. While the intentions were pure and justified, the creation of a separation of church and state complicated matters as the years progressed. A nation so deep in Christian and Calvinistic teachings slowly became more secular and hostile to Christianity, all while abandoning the principles that the patriots fought so earnestly for. The tenets of Calvinism still exist in a country that seems to be ever-changing, though the admiration and respect for God from most Americans appear to have dissipated.

Conclusion

            Calvin’s teachings played a role in establishing the United States and inarguably pushed the colonists toward independence in both fighting and verbiage found in the Declaration of Independence. Calvin emphasized human freedom, freedom from man-made religion, and absolute control. People found autonomy in Jesus Christ. McFetridge concluded, “It was Calvinistic France and Calvinistic America that were going forth in loving unity to fight on Western soil for the cause of human freedom.”[20]

            Studying history, there is no difference between Biblical accounts of ancient Israel’s adherence or disobedience to the Lord and His ways. Joshua knew this well, acknowledging that not only his family (Joshua 24:15) must serve the Lord, but His people (Joshua 24:18) needed to as well if they were to expect God’s blessings.

            Colonial Calvinists respected the teachings of God, and the independence of mankind was found only in Him. Likewise, it would be a mistake to deny the blessings that God has bestowed upon some of the great Protestant nations in the world. While those days might have ended or seem to be headed in an undesirable direction, the Lord provided for and allowed success for nations such as England and the United States. J.C. Ryle (1816-1900) argued, “What makes Scotland, the United States, and our own beloved England, the powerful, prosperous countries that they are at present, and I pray God they may long continue? I answer in one word: Protestantism, a free Bible and a Protestant ministry, and the principles of the Reformation.”[21]

            While Americans may slightly disagree with Ryle’s definition of Protestantism in American and English history, Ryle correctly placed an emphasis on the idea of Sola Scriptura and the connection of religious liberty to the Reformation. The American Revolution, in the eyes of the early Calvinist Americans, was nothing short of a continuation of the Reformation, in which they sought the same outcome: freedom from government and monarchy.

Lessons continue from both the Reformation and the American Revolution. The most profound is that God is an active Creator who desires history to be written in His accord. Furthermore, it is never too late for any nation to bow down to the Lord and reform their country. Calvinism is not dead, and in certain parts of the globe, the same principles the Puritans and American Calvinists fought for are still thriving. The Lord is sovereign, and creation can only find comfort in His providence.

[1] Loraine Boettner, The Reformed Doctrine of Predestination, (Phillipsburg: P&R Publishing, 1932), 382.

[2] Harold L. Senkbeil, Sanctification: Christ in Action, (Milwaukee: Northwestern Publishing House, 1989), 13.

[3] Ibid.

[4] R.C. Reed, The Gospel as Taught by Calvin, (Grand Rapids: Baker Book House, 1979), 137.

[5] Ibid., 138.

[6] N.S. McFetridge, Calvinism in History, (Philadelphia: Westcott, 1882), 60.

[7] Senkbeil, Sanctification: Christ in Action, 20.

[8] Ibid.

[9] Reed, The Gospel as Taught by Calvin, 139.

[10] Boettner, The Reformed Doctrine of Predestination,382.

[11] William P. Breed, Presbyterians, and Its Services in the Revolution of 1776, (Philadelphia: Presbyterian Board Publishing, 1875), 3.

[12] Reed, The Gospel as Taught by Calvin, 142.

[13] Breed, Presbyterians, and Its Services in the Revolution of 1776, 14.

[14] Reed, The Gospel as Taught by Calvin, 149.

[15] Ibid., 146.

[16] John Clover Monsma, What Calvinism has Done for America, (Collingwood: Trieste Publishing, 2017), 6.

[17] McFetridge, Calvinism in History, 61.

[18] Ibid., 81.

[19] John Calvin, The Doctrine of Election, (Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 2022), 183.

[20] McFetridge, Calvinism in History, 96.

[21] J.C. Ryle, Five English Reformers, (Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1960), 92.

The Christian Courage and Bravery of Stonewall Jackson

Dr. David T. Crum is an Assistant Professor of History at Truett-McConnell University. In addition to the B.S. degree, Dr. Crum holds two M.A. degrees (Theological Studies and History, respectively) and the earned Doctor of Philosophy degree in Historical Theology.

Not everyone possesses the characteristic of bravery. An examination of the Scriptures underscores that certain people are blessed with the trait, while others may be more timid and filled with fear. Samson, David, and Joshua serve as prime examples of men who faced adversity and battled it straight on. Thomas "Stonewall" Jackson undoubtedly embodied the distinguishing marks of a fearless, brave soldier.

  From losing both parents at a young age to being raised by a stern uncle, Jackson's childhood played a pivotal role in developing the courageous tenacity for which the world knows him. As a young boy, being forced to say goodbye to his dying mother affected his soul in a way he never forgot. His uncle Cummins reared the young boy into a man, instilling in him discipline, hard work, and confidence. Despite lacking formal education, Jackson's determination led him to success in adulthood. His first genuine test was convincing his local political leaders to sponsor his attendance at West Point, the most prestigious military school in the nation. Jonathan M. Bennett, a lawyer and official from Virginia, was hesitant to recommend Jackson initially but ultimately played a significant role in doing so.

People in the area, including Bennett, thought Jackson was admirable but worried he would not do well in school because he had little education. Convincing Bennett and others was no simple task; being verbally examined for hours, Jackson refused to yield to such concerns and doubts of his intellectual capability. Answering his objectors, he replied, "I know that I shall have the application necessary to succeed; I hope that I have the capacity; at least, I am determined to try, and I want you to help me."[1] He added, "I am very ignorant, but I can make it up by study. I know I have the energy, and I think I have the intellect."[2] Jackson's dedication endured, gaining him a seat at West Point.

            At West Point, Jackson did initially struggle. However, his refusal to quit and devotion to studying overcame any academic deficiency. Despite the order to turn off the lights and go to bed, Jackson hid and studied extensively, sacrificing his sleep each night. The young cadet graduated, earned the rank of a first lieutenant, and soon headed to Mexico for immediate military engagement.

            It was in the Mexican-American War that Jackson first impressed his superior officers, earning him a reputation as a man of courage on the battlefield. Jackson's composure during his first battle at Veracruz amazed those around him. He moved confidently and gave exact orders. Biographer John Richardson noted:      

Apparently, courage was not a difficult virtue for Jackson to acquire. To a large extent he was born with it. With men falling dead all around him and fire growing hotter and hotter, he was always in perfect possession of his faculties and his mind was clear under all circumstances. It has been said that Jackson was at his best when enveloped in fire and smoke.[3]

Jackson later remarked he held no anxiety in battle yet maintained a surreal attitude of calmness and heavenly direction. Such demeanor undisputedly led to a promotion of ranks, impressing high-ranking officials who saw first-hand a unique sense of valor few others possessed. Jackson did not disappoint his superiors, as his time in Mexico gave prominence to his leadership ability and military fortitude. It is said that Jackson flourished during moments of battle and almost enjoyed them. However, during his time in Mexico, he became concerned over his salvation and sought to gain more understanding of his Lord Jesus Christ, which in return challenged his emotions in warfare and gentled his soul.

            After the Mexican-American War, Jackson served ten years as a professor at the Virginia Military Institute. During this period, he suffered more losses in his life, losing his first wife, Ellie, and their unborn child. Marrying a couple of years later to Mary Anna, they too lost another child. The devastation brought both pain and endurance to Jackson, shaping him into a stronger and more faithful man. Jackson's faith and understanding of Christianity grew stronger, and he became a role model in his Presbyterian church as a deacon.

           Interestingly, Jackson was not the most liked professor, often mocked by cadets as boring; some students despised the late general. One student who was kicked out of the academy per Jackson’s recommendation sought revenge and planned on killing him. A classmate explained the details of the coming attack and urged Jackson not to walk on his usual path. Jackson responded, "Let the assassin murder me if he will!"[4] The event unfolded as follows:

As he approached the spot indicated, he saw the young man standing and awaiting him. He turned and gazed fixedly at him with that look which had fronted, unmoved, the most terrible scenes of carnage upon many battlefields. The youth could not sustain it; he lowered his eyes, and turning away in silence, left the spot, while Jackson calmly pursued his way.[5]

While he may not have been the preferred professor at VMI, he nonetheless garnered respect from most of the students. In fact, in just a few short years after the cadets graduated, several of them found themselves under his command in the Civil War. The majority volunteered willingly to serve him. James I. Robertson Jr. commented, "As often as not, those young cadets who most ridiculed Jackson became officers who begged to serve under his command in War. They laughed at him in one decade; they died for him in the next.”[6]

Perhaps most known for his service in the Civil War, Jackson's fame and reputation continued to develop. The illustrious military leader gained his nickname, "Stonewall," during the battle of Bull Run. The name—given by General G.E. Bee, who died in the struggle—stayed with Jackson for the rest of his life. When troops ran surrendering, Stonewall reinforced the line, held a powerful position, and reengaged the enemy. Filled with emotion, Bee yelled, "'They are beating us back! Jackson, said coolly, 'Sir, we will give them the bayonet.'"[7]

John Esten Cooke supported such accounts of bravery: "In the midst of this hot struggle Jackson's equanimity remained unshaken. He does not seem, during any portion of the battle, to have contemplated disaster or defeat, and opposed to the agitation and furry [sic] of many around him a demeanor entirely unmoved."[8] The following is a description of Jackson's resiliency:

Jackson had held his position for about an hour, and this had enabled General Beauregard to hurry forward troops from the lines along Bull Run. These were at last in position, and taking command of them in person, General Beauregard, about three o' clock, ordered the whole line to advance and make a decisive assault. Jackson still held the centre, and, although wounded in the hand by a fragment of shell, paid no attention to the accident. At the word, his brigade rushed forward, broke through the Federal line in front of them, and supported by reserves, drove the enemy from the plateau.[9]

Later, reflecting on how he could stay so calm during the Battle of Bull Run, Jackson remarked:

Captain, my religious belief teaches me to feel as safe in battle as in bed. God has fixed the time for my death. I do not concern myself about 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡, but to be always ready, no matter when it may overtake me.' He added, after a pause, looking me full in the face: 'Captain, that is the way all men should live, and then all would be equally brave.[10]

The once ridiculed professor became perhaps the most valiant military leader in the whole Confederate Army. His military group, the "Stonewall Brigade," gained fame and attention from Southerners and newspapers in the U.S. and Europe. One soldier later commented on Jackson:

We do not look upon him merely as our commander, we do not regard him as a severe disciplinarian, as a politician, as a man seeking popularity but as a Christian; a brave man who appreciates the condition of a common soldier, as a fatherly protector; as one who endures all hardships in common with his followers; who never commands others to face danger without putting himself in the van.[11]

Jackson found courage in his Christian faith, which gave him peace and understanding in all parts of his life, even during war. The general's favorite word, providence, underscored his Christian worldview. According to Jackson, he did not need to fear battle, as death came at the hands and will of his Lord and Savior. Jackson commented to one soldier who was not a Christian:

Nothing earthly can mar my happiness. I know that heaven is in store for me; and I should rejoice in the prospect of going there tomorrow. Understand me: I am not sick; I am not sad; God has greatly blessed me; and I have as much to love here as any man, and life is very bright to me. But, still, I am ready to leave it any day, without trepidation or regret, for that heaven which I know awaits me, through the mercy of my Heavenly Father.[12]

Death brought forth the bravest moments of Jackson’s life. Friendly fire wounded Jackson, and doctors initially expected him to survive after amputating his arm. Not realizing an infection had developed in his bloodstream, the general commented on the loss of his arm:

You see me severely wounded, but not depressed, not unhappy. I believe it has been done according to God’s holy will, and I acquiesce entirely in it. You may think it strange, but you never saw me more perfectly contented than I am today; for I am sure that my Heavenly Father designs affliction for my good. I am perfectly satisfied that, either in this life, or in that which is to come, I shall discover that what is now regarded as a calamity is a blessing. And if it appears a great calamity, as it surely will be a great inconvenience, to be deprived of my arm, it will result in a great blessing. I can wait until God, in His own time, shall make known to be the object He has in thus afflicting me. But why should I not rather rejoice in it as a blessing, and not look on it as a calamity at all? If it were in my power to replace my arm, I would not dare to do it, unless I could know it was the will of my Heavenly Father.[13]

Sadly, the infection rapidly spread, and his time on earth ended. Unsurprisingly, Jackson joyously awaited his destiny. His wife, Anna, shared the account:

When I told him the doctors thought he would soon be in heaven, he did not seem to comprehend it, and showed no surprise, or concern. But upon repeating it and asking him if he was willing for God to do with him according to His own will, he looked at me calmly and intelligently, and said, "Yes, I prefer it, I prefer it." I then told him that before that day was over he would be with the blessed Saviour in His glory. With perfect distinctness and intelligence, he said, "I will be an infinite gainer to be translated."[14]

Stonewall Jackson died at age thirty-nine. The great military leader showcased bravery and courage, which so few maintain. However, if given the opportunity, Jackson would have proudly asserted such actions came only from his Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.      

            While his reputation may be under attack today because of his service in the Confederate Army, few know Jackson did not seek conflict. Yet, he felt it was by the providence of God that he remained at war, in an altercation to him, that was justifiable in defending one's state and land. The Lord knows best, and Jackson, too, acknowledged the will of God would ultimately prevail in the brutal clash of brothers fighting brothers.

            Jackson was many things, including a loving husband, delightful father, great military leader, and humble soul. However, it was the Christian title he most earnestly sought. This Christian man exemplified godly traits, some of them being courage and unwavering faith. Bravery came from the hands of his Savior, who unquestionably was with him his entire life.

[1] Mary Anna Jackson, Life and Letters of General Thomas J. Jackson, (1892; reprint, New York: Harper & Brothers, 2019), 29.

[2] Lochlainn Seabrook, The Quotable Stonewall Jackson: Selections from the Writings and Speeches of the South’s Most Famous General, (Franklin: Sea Raven Press, 2012), 29.

[3] John R. Richardson, The Christian Character of General Stonewall Jackson, (Weaverville: The Southern Presbyterian Journal Company, 1943), 7.

[4] John Esten Cooke, Stonewall Jackson: A Military Biography, (New York: D. Appleton and Company, 1876), 30.

[5] Ibid.

[6] James I. Robertson, Jr., Stonewall Jackson: The Man, the Soldier, the Legend, (New York: Macmillan, 1997), 153.

[7] Cooke, Stonewall Jackson: A Military Biography, 67.

[8] Ibid., 72.

[9] Ibid., 73.

[10] John D. Imboden (CSA), "Incidents of the First Bull Run" in 𝐵𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐿𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐶𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑙 𝑊𝑎𝑟, Vol. 1 (1887), 238.

[11] Jackson, Life and Letters of General Thomas J. Jackson, 134.

[12] Robert Lewis Dabney, Life and Campaigns of Stonewall Jackson, (New York: Blelock & Co., 1866), 588.

[13] Jackson, Life and Letters of General Thomas J. Jackson, 293.

[14] Ibid., 301.

Defining Theology With Dr. Girardeau

Zachary Groff is the Director of Advancement & Admissions at Greenville Presbyterian Theological Seminary and Pastor of Antioch Presbyterian Church (PCA) in Woodruff, SC.

John Lafayette Girardeau (1825-98) occupies a significant place in the history of American Presbyterianism. His importance is most evident in his record of service to the Church as a preacher, pastor, churchman, and seminary professor. In 1875, the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church in the United States (PCUS) voted to replace William Swan Plumer with Dr. Girardeau as Professor of Didactic and Polemic Theology at Columbia Theological Seminary in South Carolina. On this development, Dr. C. N. Willborn notes, “For the next twenty years, [Dr. Girardeau] carried forth the Thornwellian tradition from the theological chair in Columbia. . . . Girardeau committed himself to working on those areas of doctrine Thornwell had not been able to complete.”[1]

The profundity of Dr. Girardeau’s theological thought is demonstrated in the important (and posthumously published) volume recently posted to Dr. Girardeau’s Log College Press author page: Discussions of Theological Questions. In this anthology of articles and essays, Dr. Girardeau develops a definition (and division) of theology along the lines of his teacher and predecessor at Columbia, Dr. James Henley Thornwell (1812-1862). In doing so, he identifies and confounds variants of the aberrant theology he denominates as Rationalism, including pantheism, intuitionalism, deism, technical rationalism, mysticism, and Romanism. Beyond the discussion of theology as such, the volume includes a brief article on the person of Christ and a very significant contribution to the development of the doctrine of adoption in Christian soteriology.

Students of American Presbyterian theology will mine rich rewards from a careful consideration of Dr. Girardeau’s Discussions of Theological Questions. What follows here is a brief introduction to the volume by way of a consideration of Dr. Girardeau’s definition of theology as an objective scientific discipline distinguishable from – but necessarily correlative to – subjective religious experience.

When Dr. Girardeau joined the faculty of Columbia Theological Seminary in 1875, he possessed the Thornwellian definition of theology as “the science of religion” available to him to accept, reject, or refine. Though his modifications were not great in number or substance, he did propose several refinements to the Thornwellian understanding of the relationship between theology and religion. In agreement with his predecessor, Dr. Girardeau regarded theology as an objective scientific discipline with a clear definition derived from its object of study. However, Dr. Girardeau further refined the relationship between doctrine and devotion as necessarily correlative.

For his inaugural address as the Seminary’s new Professor of Didactic and Polemic Theology, Dr. Girardeau took as his subject “Theology as a Science, Involving an Infinite Element,” delivered before the General Assembly of the PCUS on May 23, 1876 (available from LCP). The working definition he proposed in that address he further elaborated on in his essay “The Definition of Theology,” included as the opening chapter of Discussions of Theological Questions. In this important essay, Dr. Girardeau put forward the goal of theology as a scientific discipline: to “reduce the crude mass of facts into the coherence of a system” through “voluntary reflection” or discursive reasoning (“The Definition of Theology,” 3). These “facts” he identified with “the objective contents of the Scriptures” (18).

However, Christian theology is in no way coordinate with the theology of other world religions. Dr. Girardeau contended that the Christian religion “utterly rejects the hypothesis that it is merely a specific instance of a generic religion, and absolutely claims for itself the competency and the right to be the only religion of the [human] race” (5). The science of Christian religion stands apart from the science of non-Christian religion. The separation is insuperable, the distinction incontrovertible, and the differences irreconcilable. Dr. Girardeau’s words at this point seem to threaten his own definition of theology as the science of religion. He wrote, “Although, then, the broad definition, Theology is the science of religion, is upon logical grounds justifiable in the general, it is for all practical purposes inoperative and nugatory. It is not a working definition. It possesses only a theoretical value” (13). His solution was to specify the religious content of theology as being that of Christianity alone. He continued, “We are warranted in narrowing [the definition]. Since among the religions of mankind only one is entitled to be considered as true, we may define theology as the science of true religion – meaning the Christian religion” (13). Therefore, true theology as such involves the systematization of the raw data of Christianity. For Dr. Girardeau, the objective science of theology must be biblical from beginning to end. There must not be any subjective element allowed into the object-matter of theology. In other words, Dr. Girardeau limited the object-matter of theology to the content of the Bible. His emphasis on the objective nature of theology as a science matched his equally strong emphasis on theology’s necessary correlation to subjective religion.

Dr. Girardeau emphatically and indivisibly connected theology and religion as correlative pursuits – the first objective and scientific, the second subjective and practical – distinguishable from and mutually dependent upon one another. In order to be substantively biblical and orthodox, religious devotion needs true theology. “It is God’s external, verbal, authoritative delineation of the standard to which subjective religion, of the religious life, ought to be conformed, and by which it is to be judged” (18). On the other hand, scientific theology is utterly useless without spiritual vivification brought on through the regenerating activity of the Holy Spirit. “It is, therefore, not to be supposed that theology possesses any inherent power to produce true internal religion. It is an instrument adapted with exquisite wisdom to all the needs of the soul, but it is only an instrument requiring, in order to accomplish the end designed by it, the quickening, illuminating and applying energy of the Holy Spirit. The agent who makes it efficacious is the Spirit, and the organ through which he exerts his grace is faith. The spiritual knowledge, thus resulting, transmutes the frozen system of speculative science into a living scheme of saving truth” (20). Implicit in Dr. Girardeau’s definition of theology as an objective science is a necessary correlation to subjective religion as the end and aim of all such science. Theology without religion is pitifully incomplete, just as religion without theology is woefully incoherent. Dr. Girardeau went so far as to conclude, “Theology, consequently, is both the theory of true religion and the application of that theory to the concrete cases of religious experience” (18).

The correlation between theology and religion is, in Dr. Girardeau’s estimation, indestructible. He argued, “The very end of supernatural revelation is holiness of life to the glory of God. There is an indestructible relation between the Bible as the standard of religious truth and the religious character which was designed to be formed in accordance with it, between the mould and the life which is to be adjusted to it” (18-19). Theology as an objective science proceeds along the same lines as any other science: discursive reasoning concerning a specified set of facts and propositions. Theology as necessarily correlative to subjective religion departs from all other sciences in that it will be doomed to failure and uselessness without the active intervention of its ultimate principle, which is the Triune God Himself.

As much as we might admire Dr. Girardeau’s careful reasoning, his definition of theology was not without deficiencies. The principal weaknesses appear in the realm of the devotional life of the soul. As we have seen, Dr. Girardeau emphasized the necessary and mutually dependent correlation between the objective science of theology and the subjective practice of religion for either doctrine or devotion to thrive. However, theology as such is better understood to correspond – and not merely to correlate – to the practice of religion. Doctrine and devotion are enmeshed one with another. For true theology maximally to regulate religion, it must admit the centrality of devotion to its own purview. Such is reflected in the following definition of theology: the true doctrine of living unto God the Father, through God the Son, by God the Holy Spirit. Such a definition addresses a second weakness in Dr. Girardeau’s definition of theology. Dr. Girardeau’s definition lacks an explicitly trinitarian understanding of God in the definition itself. Whereas the doctrine of the Trinity is unavoidably to be inferred from Girardeau’s presentation of the correlation between objective doctrinal truth (the Word) and subjective religious devotion (made possible by the Spirit), the Triune God Himself must be central to any definition of true theology. Nonetheless, Dr. Girardeau’s refinements on the Thornwellian definition of theology mark a positive development in the theological tradition of American Presbyterianism in that Dr. Girardeau proposed a necessary correlation (tending toward true correspondence) between theology as such and religion as lived.

[1] C. N. Willborn, “John L. Girardeau (1825-98), Pastor to Slaves and Theologian of Causes” (PhD diss., Westminster Theological Seminary, 2003), 304, 305.

"God’s Electing Love and Mercy": 19th Century Presbyterians and the Question of Infant Salvation

Dr. Miles Smith IV is an adjunct instructor at Liberty University Online. His teaching generally focuses on the Nineteenth Century United States, but he also enjoys lecturing on Europe and Latin America.

Ecumenical movements in North American Protestantism during the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries have often led Presbyterians to rhetorically negotiate the sacramental understandings associated with the Westminster Standards. Perhaps more ominously, Reformed thinkers and pastors have downplayed historic Reformed understandings traditionally meant to bring solace—both pastoral and sacramental—to the people of God.

People in the pews of Reformed churches in 2019 might be quick to assume that their forbears were stern, or perhaps formalistic, or too tied to the Standards to be missionally or pastorally effective. What they are less likely to assume is the remarkable catholicity of historic Reformed tradition, and the rich theology offered to those in grief. Remarkable advances in medicine and associated technology has to some degree lessened the immediate effects of the curse, but death still roams human existence. Tragically, death often claims infant children of Christian parents.

The need to declare the capaciousness of God’s grace typified Presbyterian polemics and preaching in the nineteenth century. William D. Smith’s What is Calvinism? addressed Presbyterians’ belief in the salvation of infants directly. He noted that a popular slander against Reformed theology leveled by Wesleyans was the idea that human depravity automatically consigned infants to hell. Smith hotly rejected that idea entirely.  Reformed Christians believed that infants were born with the same damning sin nature as adults, but nonetheless they loudly “believed in the salvation of infants.” “It was not because we believed them holy, and without sin; but, because we believed they were sinful, and would be saved, through the imputed righteousness of Christ.” Smith rightly charged Wesleyans evangelists with obfuscating statements in the Westminster Standards regarding Presbyterianism’s belief in God’s grace to infants.[1]

Charles Hodge argued passionately that not only were the infants of Christian saved, but all infants were. “All who die in infancy are saved. This is inferred from what the Bible teaches of the analogy between Adam and Christ.” To those who demurred, he wrote:

We have no right to put any limit on these general terms, except what the Bible itself places upon them. The Scriptures nowhere exclude any class of infants, baptized or unbaptized, born in Christian or in heathen lands, of believing or unbelieving parents, from the benefits of the redemption of Christ. All the descendants of Adam, except Christ, are under condemnation; all the descendants of Adam, except those of whom it is expressly revealed that they cannot inherit the kingdom of God, are saved.

Hodge’s argument did not create sensation in the era. His argument for accepting Roman Catholic baptism proved more controversial at the time, especially with his southern rival, James Henley Thornwell.[2]

Perhaps the most famous southern divine, Thornwell’s famous admonition to treat children as unregenerate until they publicly communed has sometimes been held up as evidence that southern Presbyterians did not believe in infant salvation. The accusation is not entirely unfounded. Thornwell’s ambiguous treatment of baptism often hewed away from historic Calvinism and his fellow southern divines, and his peculiar view of baptism was no exception. Yet even Thornwell believed that infants on some level had a special relationship to the Covenant of Grace.[3]

Church historians’ tendency to treat Thornwell as representative of southern Presbyterianism often overshadowed majority opinion among other religious intellectuals of the time. Thomas Smyth, pastor of Charleston’s Second Presbyterian Church and a close friend of Thornwell, argued that infant salvation was the historic position of Calvinist churches. Likewise he saw the doctrine as a powerful affirmation of the pastoral and soteriological superiority of Reformed theology. He penned his Solace for Bereaved Parents in 1848, a tome over 300 pages long filled with declarations of God’s grace to infants. His serious scholarly training did not cloud his pastoral purpose. Parental grief was natural, he wrote, and should not be accused of excess, “Your affliction is great. Your heart is left lonely and desolate. Its strings are broken. That joy which had swallowed up all remembrance of the hours of solicitude and pain, is now turned into melancholy sadness.” The joyous “current of affection and gladness which had flowed out upon the object of your regard is turned back upon the soul —its channels are dried up, and its fountain gone.” Smyth understood that “the grief of a bereaved parent can only be known by those who have endured it.” Smyth saw this grief as natural, but believed Calvinism provided substantive hope for an eternal reunification of parent and child. The very aspects of Calvinist eucharistic thought that Roman Catholics and even Lutherans found most objectionable, Smyth saw as announcing the kingdom coming even to the infant dead. [4]

Smyth particularly appealed to the Westminster standards, particularly the Confession of Faith. Twentieth-century Reformed ministers affirm Westminster Confession of Faith 10.3 and its declaration that “Elect infants, dying in infancy, are regenerated and saved by Christ through the spirit.” Yet many have tended to caution against presumption that dead infants of covenant parents were among the elect.

Smyth, like William Smith, Charles Hodge, and the eighteenth-century church of Scotland, flatly rejected this circumspection as extra-scriptural. Smyth noted that in his own time the doctrine of salvation for dead infants of Christian parents was “universally believed by Presbyterians, and those who hold to the doctrine of election, that all dying infants are included among the elect, are made heirs of grace, and become members of the kingdom of heaven.” He noted that he was “not acquainted with any who hold an opposite sentiment.” He admitted that “possibly, when the doctrine is extended to the infants of Heathen parents, some might not be prepared fully to concur in it. But even then, he declared: “that there is ground from Scripture to believe that even they are included in the promises of Divine mercy, and are…all undoubtedly saved, is, I have no doubt, an opinion to which Presbyterians will, generally, subscribe.”[5]

Denial of infant salvation, Smyth warned, placed those of that opinion in the same camp with “some Calvinists, in common with many Arminians of former days…and the Roman Catholic Church.” Smyth addressed particularly the false notion that Presbyterians believed in infant damnation. Smyth noted that far from denying infant salvation, Calvin and his successors rescued the doctrine of God’s voluminous grace and that it extended to dead and unbaptized infants. “The opinion of Calvinists,” Smyth proclaimed, “is now universally in favour of the hope that all children dying in infancy are saved through the merits of Christ's death, applied by the Holy Ghost.” More importantly, this facet of Calvinist theology was not a modern innovation, but traced its roots to the beginning of Calvin’s writings in the Reformation. Calvin, noted Smyth, “was among the very first of the reformers to overthrow the unchristian and most horrible doctrine of the Romish and High-church divines, that no unbaptized infant can be saved.” [6]

Calvin’s intellectual assault on the errors of Medieval Roman Catholicism made infant salvation not merely ornamental, but crucial. Smyth refuted modern caution that the Westminster divines treaded softly on infant salvation. The Standards, he wrote, “wisely, charitably, and scripturally concludes, that this grace is co-extensive with God's electing love and mercy, and is bestowed upon the objects of that love, whether they are removed from this world in a state of infancy, or of maturity.” The Confession “overthrows the doctrine of Romanists, High Church Episcopalians, and others, who teach that this grace of salvation, by the renewing of the Holy Ghost, is tied down and limited—first, by what they most vainly and arrogantly call the only true Church, to wit, the Romanist or Episcopal Churches, and secondly by the ordinances of baptism as administered in these churches.”[7]

Nineteenth-century Presbyterians were, in many ways, more comfortable with grace extending to infants than modern Reformed thinkers. The historical record points to a consensus on infant salvation that stretched across cultural, geographic, and social lines. Smyth and Hodge, for example, disagreed on aspects of churchmanship, but they agreed that Westminster Confession of Faith 10.3 decidedly affirmed Smyth’s argument. Smyth said succinctly, and in bold type, that “Calvinists now universally agree in believing, THAT THERE IS EVERY REASONABLE GROUND TO HOPE THAT ALL INFANTS DYING IN INFANCY ARE INCLUDED IN THE DECREE OF ELECTION AND ARE MADE PARTAKERS OF EVERLASTING LIFE.”[8]

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[1] William D. Smith, What is Calvinism? (Philadelphia: Presbyterian Board of Publication, 1854), 9-10. This book can be found on the Log College Press website here.

[2] Charles Hodge, Systematic Theology (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1895), 1:26-27. This book can be found on the Log College Press website here.

[3] James Henley Thornwell, “The Revised Book Vindicated,” in James B. Adger and John L. Girardeau, eds., Collected Writings of James Henley Thornwell (Richmond: Presbyterian Committee of Publication, 1871), 4:363-364. This book can be found on the Log College Press website here.

[4] Thomas Smyth, Solace for Bereaved Parents, or Infants Die to Live (New York: Robert Carter, 1848), 1. This book can also be found in Volume 10 of Smyth’s Complete Works on the Log College Press website here.

[5] Smyth, Solace, 26. Emphasis his.

[6] Smyth, Solace, 26.

[7] Smyth, Solace, 36.

[8] Smyth, Solace, 36.

New School Presbyterians, Social Reform, and the Relationship Between Church and State

Dr. Miles Smith is an Assistant Professor of Government, History & Criminal Justice at Regent University in Virginia Beach, Virginia. He previously taught at Texas Christian University and Hillsdale College. His teaching generally focuses on the Nineteenth Century United States, but he also enjoys lecturing on Europe and Latin America.

New School Presbyterianism, birthed by the coerced theological association stemming from the 1801 Plan of Union between the Congregationalist and Presbyterian churches in the United States, began the infusion of Puritan pietism into American Presbyterianism. Infused with the millenarian idealism of New England Congregationalists, New School Presbyterian ministers began to envision the United States as a godly commonwealth. The question of moral reform has motivated and also divided Presbyterians in the United States since the creation of the American republic. In the twenty-first century, Evangelically-oriented Presbyterians likewise have pursued moral and social reform as a key part of the church’s mission. Modern moral and social reformers pursue a similar socio-moral mission, but few have reckoned with the intellectual foundations of socio-moral reform in Calvinist churches. Moral and social reformers such as the Rev. George Duffield IV, like the English Puritans and their North American successors, believed that some sort of establishmentarianism and unitary religious order was necessary for social and moral form. He asserted that national sins—which included abridging God’s natural law—solicited the specific judgement of God. Twenty-first Evangelical social and moral reformers typically reject establishmentarianism and a codified Christian order in favor of a priori liberal capitalist presumptions regarding religious liberty. Duffield’s work offers a useful window into how moral and social reform has been rhetorically pursued in the past, what that past might mean for Reformed ministers and thinkers in the twenty-first century.

George Duffield IV, a Presbyterian in Carlisle affiliated with New School ideology, co-opted moral covenantal language into his sermons during the upheavals both natural and political in the years that followed the War of 1812. Duffield pastored a church outside of the burgeoning American cities and blamed the War of 1812 on the avarice of American financial speculation. “Judgments,” he recalled, “followed in rapid succession, and in various forms, until, at last, the nation was involved in War, the most terrible of all; and that war was prosecuted, until the government was on the very verge of bankruptcy.” [1] The war caused men to turn back to God but only for a time. “Former sorrows were forgotten, and again men began to vie with each other in their pursuit of wealth.” Duffield argued that indifference of the knowledge of God guaranteed that the people of the United States regularly incurred the wrath of the Divine.

Duffield warned that “in almost every section of our country,” “the reigning sins of the land appear. Even the remote villages on our borders are not exempt from them. We may read them in our own Borough.” He quoted the prophet Isaiah: “For our transgressions are with us, and we know them.”  Duffield further applied the reproaches of Old Testament prophets—in this case Ezekiel—to his own era. “Ye have made your iniquity to be remembered, in that your transgressions are discovered, so that in all your doings your sins do appear.” American sins were too numerous and universal merely to state, said Duffield, but there was “one strictly national, that commenced in the adoption of the federal constitution, which is the want of an acknowledgement in it of a Supreme Being, and of a divine revelation.” The disestablishmentarian constitution rendered the United States “in form at least entirely atheistical.” Duffield declared that such an omission was “a great sin, to have forgotten God in such an important national instrument, and not to have acknowledged Him in that which forms the very nerves and sinews of the political body.” The Almighty led the American republic “through all the perils of the revolutionary struggle, and had established us in peaceful and plentiful security, and then, to have been forgotten, in the period of prosperity, certainly demerited his rebuke.” Duffield inferred that the United States enjoyed the specific favor of God in the revolution, reinforcing the notion that the United States, and not the visible Church, was the New Israel.

Six other social problems formed the foundation of the national sins Duffield believed earned the United States the ire of God. Immoral politicians, financial speculation, usury, the consumption of alcohol, and a lack of proper observation of the Christian sabbath each demanded the action of Christians and the state. The fact that the United States government carried mail on Sundays particularly infuriated sabbath-observing New Schooler and Congregationalists. “The highest authorities of the country have legalized the profanation of the Sabbath, by the transportation of the mail on that day; and have positively refused to hear the remonstrances of the Christian part of the community on that subject.” Much of Sunday mail pertained to the United States Army, but that did not keep a sizeable number of Protestant ministers from protesting to John Quincy Adams and his successor, Andrew Jackson.[2]

Social ills stemming from widespread alcoholism certainly plagued the Early National United States. Capitalism’s excesses pushed sustenance farmers away from cities and contributed the populist surge that elected Andrew Jackson. Evangelical New School ministers waded into fray and urged the church to take a leading role in the reformation of society. Often, however, New Schoolers co-opted the church into the roles traditionally reserved to the state and vice versa. Duffield, for example, argued that political officials shirked their duties if they simply punished public drunkenness. They needed to help spiritually reform drunkards as well. Historic confessional Protestantism saw spiritual reform as the province of the church. Duffield’s notion of the United States as a new Israel led him to theological novelties that abrogated historic Reformed church-state distinctions. The temptation for modern Reformed churches remains the same as it was for Duffield, but few modern Reformed proponents of social reform have dealt with the history and ideological breadth of reformist ministers in the United States. Engagement with historic American Presbyterian sources will be a necessity as major Protestant groups interact with and engage the benefits and limitations of social reform in the twenty-first century.

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[1] All Duffield quotes are from George Duffield, Judgment and Mercy: A Sermon (Carlisle, PA: George Philips, 1820), 5-23.

[2] James S. Kabala, Church-State Relations in the Early American Republic, 1787–1846 (New York and London: Routledge, 2016), 39.

From A Cappella to Accompaniment: The 19th Century Journey of Southern Presbyterians

R. Andrew Myers is the website manager for Log College Press. He has a B.A. from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. He served as editor of the Matthew Poole Project (2006-2012), and enjoys the study of church history and historical theology. He is a member of the Reformed Presbyterian Church of North America (RPCNA).

For centuries the public and stated worship of Presbyterians in Europe and America was a cappella (Italian for “in the manner of the chapel”), that is to say, praise without the use of musical instruments. This was consistent with the views and practice of the historic Congregational and Baptist branches (also descended from the Puritans) of the Protestant church as well.

Calvin had been opposed to the use of musical instruments in public worship on the grounds that it distracted the worshippers’ minds from the meaning of what they sung. None of the Reformed Confessions had sanctioned the use of musical instruments. The Westminster Divines had caused the great organs of St. Paul and St. Peters in Westminster to be removed and the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland had approved. Leading Calvinistic divines in recent times had remained opposed to the use of organs, among them [Thomas] Chalmers in Scotland, [Charles] Spurgeon in England, [James H.] Thornwell in America.[1]

In the 21st century, to survey Presbyterian churches in America – excepting the Reformed Presbyterian Church of North America and a few other groups which still adhere to a cappella worship – musical accompaniment is the rule. The transition between these diverse practices can be dated to the 19th century, but there was resistance among Southern Presbyterians and others who held to the historic a cappella position and practice. This article briefly examines the body of literature generated by 19th century Southern Presbyterian debates that took place over this key aspect of worship.

The first Puritan church in America to introduce the organ (the ecclesiastically-preferred modern musical instrument) into its public worship was First Congregational Church in Providence, Rhode Island, in 1770. Some of the earliest Presbyterian churches in America to follow suit were First Presbyterian Church of Alexandria, Virginia (1817); Independent Presbyterian Church of Savannah, Georgia (1820); First Presbyterian Church of Rochester, New York (1830); First Presbyterian Church of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania (c. 1845); First Presbyterian Church of Chicago (1852); and Second Presbyterian Church of Charleston, South Carolina (1856). Tabb Street Church of Petersburg, Virginia (1870); First Presbyterian Church of Lynchburg, Virginia (c. 1871); College Church of Hampden-Sydney, Virginia (1890); and the First Presbyterian Church of Tallahassee, Florida (1891), are later examples of the introduction of organs into public Presbyterian worship. In the case of the College Church at Hampden-Sydney, the building was designed in 1860 by its pastor, Robert L. Dabney, specifically to have entrances narrow enough that pipe organs could not get through. “When a pipe organ was installed in 1920, in the generation following his death, its parts were painstakingly taken up the slave gallery steps, piece-by-piece, and assembled in the balcony.”[2]

Dabney played an important role in the debates which played out in 19th century religious journals and newspapers. A flurry of letters to the editor of the Richmond, Virginia, Watchman and Observer in 1849 included writings by “H” in support of the use of musical instruments (which necessitated a letter by Moses Drury Hoge to deny that he was the author of H’s correspondence), as well as by “Simplex,” “Inquirer” and “Rusticus” in opposition to their use, along with a February 22, 1849, letter by Dabney, using the pseudonym “Chorepiscopus,” in which he argued against “this Popish mode of worship” (the organ).[3]

Robert J. Breckinridge issued a pamphlet in 1851 in which, while allowing Christian liberty for believers to use musical instruments for edification in private, he too identified the use of instrumental music in public worship as “a relapse towards Rome.”[4]

In 1855, John Douglas wrote the first of a series of articles on this topic which appeared in The Southern Presbyterian Review. He memorably began his argument thus: “If we agitate this subject, and seek to expel from the house and worship of God, all the lovers and devotees of Jubal, who was a descendant of that wicked one, Cain, it is simply because we know the beginning of evil is as the letting forth of water.”[5]

Thomas E. Peck published articles in The Critic (November and December 1855) titled “Liturgies, Instrumental Music and Architecture” and “General Principles Touching the Worship of God” in which he argued that the question was a matter of principle:

…a Christian may find it to edification to use a musical instrument in his private or domestic worship, as the sweet singer of Israel seems to have done, and as Martin Luther did; but it is a very different affair to introduce apparatus of this sort into the public worship of God. Before it can be done, there must be a covenant to do it; and before such a covenant can be righteously made, the word of God must be consulted; a thing it would be well for those to do who laugh, in the fulness of their self-conceit, at their brethren for seeing any principle in the matter.[6]

One of the most significant essays in defense of the use of musical instruments in worship was Thomas Smyth’s 1868 response to John Douglas in The Southern Presbyterian Review. He makes the case that the sound of the musical instrument served as legitimate auxiliary aid to human praise, and is justified in Christian worship today on the basis of God’s approval of such in the Old Testament.[7]

Thomas Smyth’s article called forth an anonymously-authored response by John Bailey Adger the following year. Adger takes issue with Smyth’s conjecture that the harp and organ were associated with divine public worship “under every economy [italics used by Smyth and Adger] of the church militant” from the time of Jubal. Adger further responds to Smyth directly:

This plea of the organ’s being a mere circumstance of worship, whilst it may be offered by others, is not and could not be employed by Dr. Smyth. With characteristic frankness he boldly defends the organ as a competent part of the worship of God under the New Testament. This is the only manly and fair position its advocates can take. But whenever they do take it, they have to encounter the condemnation which awaits those who presume to add to God’s commands respecting his worship. [8]

John L. Girardeau was finally called upon by his students to put his views on the matter in print. His 1888 treatise Instrumental Music in the Public Worship of the Church is perhaps the most enduring work by either side of the 19th century debate and has been often republished since. Girardeau thoroughly covers both the Scriptural principles at issue and the ecclesiastical history of musical instruments from the perspective of the historic Reformed church.

The question was discussed at length and from various angles but was based on the general proposition that whatever is not commanded by God as part of his worship is thereby forbidden. Instruments of music were indeed used in the Temple worship (as distinct from the Tabernacle and later the synagogue) but all elements of the Temple worship, Dr. Girardeau argued, pointed to Christ, and were elements in the old dispensation done away with in Christ.

Dr. Girardeau realized, however, that he was fighting a losing cause, as indeed he was….The church at large...rejected Dr. Girardeau’s argument and was not disturbed by Dr. Dabney’s warning.[9]

Girardeau further addresses the several classes of arguments in favor of the use of musical instruments in worship, including those from his fellow Presbyterians who claimed adherence to the Biblical and Confessional regulative principle of worship, but assigned the place of musical instruments to the category of “circumstances,” about which the church clearly has discretionary power, rather than “elements,” which require positive warrant from the Scriptures to be employed and otherwise constitute a binding of the conscience to the traditions of men, a distinction also found both in Scripture and in the Confession. After noting that men such as R.J. Breckinridge and J.H. Thornwell were barely in their graves before organs began to be used in their very own churches, Girardeau emphasizes the importance of understanding the “Doctrine of Circumstances.” As Girardeau argues, borrowing from the Scottish Presbyterian George Gillespie as well as from Thornwell, the church has only ministerial and declarative authority, not legislative, and thus, to understand where instruments fit in and the bounds of the church’s discretionary authority, it is necessary that we comprehend that “[c]ircumstances are those concomitants of an action without which it either cannot be done at all, or cannot be done with decency and decorum.” Girardeau argues that, given the fact that ceremonial worship is abrogated and only that worship which is moral and spiritual remains for the Christian to offer, the use of instruments, unlike the selection of a place of worship (a necessary adjunct to performing the elements of worship), is not a necessary adjunct to praise. Therefore, its use falls under the rubric of “element,” which makes it unauthorized, rather than “circumstance.”[10]

Dabney had again joined the battle with an 1889 review of Girardeau’s treatise,[11] but significant Southern Presbyterian resistance to the use of musical instruments in public worship largely ended in 1898 with the death of both men. With their pens set down for good, the basis of theological opposition to the use of musical instruments in Presbyterian places of worship seemed to disappear with them. As mentioned above, other dissenting groups of Presbyterians continued, and some still continue, to sing praises to God a cappella, and there is an important body of literature produced by American Reformed Presbyterians and others which continues to witness to the practice.[12] But as for the Southern Presbyterian Church, with the passing of these two theological giants in particular in one year, the tide had turned.  

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[1] Ernest Trice Thompson, Presbyterians in the South (Richmond, Virginia: John Knox Press, 1973), 2:429.

[2] Bruce C. Daniels, Puritans at Play: Leisure and Recreation in Colonial New England (New York: St. Martin’s Griffin, 1995), 59; John Price, Old Light on New Worship: Musical Instruments and The Worship of God, A Theological, Historical and Psychological Study (Avinger, Texas: Simpson Publishing Company, 2005), 133; Julius Melton, Presbyterian Worship in America: Changing Patterns Since 1787 (Eugene, Oregon: Wipf and Stock Publishers, 2001), 35; Lowry Axley, Holding Aloft the Torch: A History of the Independent Presbyterian Church of Savannah, Georgia (Savannah: Publication Committee of the Independent Presbyterian Church, 1958), 46; Thompson, Presbyterians in the South, 2:430-431; Jonathan Jakob Hehn, “American Presbyterian Worship And The Organ” (2013), 29-30, 66, 109, accessed on February 21, 2019, http://purl.flvc.org/fsu/fd/FSU_migr_etd-7417. Thompson, citing Richard McIlwaine, Memories of Three Score Years and Ten (New York and Washington: The Neale Publishing Company, 1908), 262, places the date of the introduction of an organ into the College Church as 1890, but the College Presbyterian Church at Hampden-Sydney website says this took place in 1920 (http://people.hsc.edu/organizations/collegechurch/history/history2.shtml).

[3] The Blue Banner 3, nos. 1-2 (January-February 1994): 1-11; Robert Lewis Dabney, Discussions (Harrisonburg, Virginia: Sprinkle Publications, 1999), 5:311.

[4] Robert Jefferson Breckinridge, A Protest Against the Use of Instrumental Music in the State Worship of God on the Lord’s Day (Liverpool: D. Marples, 1856), 8.

[5] John Douglas, “On Organs,” The Southern Presbyterian Review 9, no. 2 (October 1855): 224-225.

[6] Thomas Ephraim Peck, Miscellanies (Richmond, Virginia: The Presbyterian Committee of Publication, 1895), 1:73, 85-89.

[7] Thomas Smyth, “The Scriptural and Divine Right for Using Mechanical as well as Vocal Instruments in the Worship of God,” The Southern Presbyterian Review 19, no. 4 (October 1868): 517-556.

[8] John Bailey Adger, “A Denial of Divine Right for Organs in Worship,” The Southern Presbyterian Review 20, no. 1 (January 1869): 101-102.

[9] Thompson, Presbyterians in the South, 2:430.

[10] John Lafayette Girardeau, Instrumental Music in the Public Worship of the Church (Richmond, Virginia: Whittet & Shepperson, 1888), 135-154, 188-199; James Henley Thornwell, Collected Writings (Richmond, Virginia: Presbyterian Committee of Publication, 1873), 4:244-248.

[11] Robert Lewis Dabney, “A Review of Instrumental Music in the Public Worship of the Church, by Dr. John L. Girardeau,” The Presbyterian Quarterly III, no. 9 (July 1889), 462-469.

[12] See, for example,  Alexander Cameron Blaikie (ARP), A Catechism of Praise (Boston: S.K. Whipple and Co., 1849, 1854) and The Organ and Other Musical Instruments as Noted in the Holy Scriptures (Boston: Lee & Shepard, 1865); Robert Johnson (RPCNA), A Discourse on Instrumental Music in Public Worship (Burlington, Iowa: Osborn, Snow & Co., 1871); William Wishart (UPCNA), “Psallo,” The Evangelical Repository LIX (First Series), no. 13, IX (Fourth Series), no. 18 (June 1882); Proceedings of the Convention of United Presbyterians [UPCNA] Opposed to Instrumental Music in the Worship of God (Pittsburgh: Myers, Shinkle & Co., 1883); and Robert J. George, Instrumental Music a Corruption of New Testament Worship (Pittsburgh: The Witness Committee of the Synod of the Reformed Presbyterian Church, n.d).

Robert Lewis Dabney on "The Attractions of Popery"

Christopher A. Hutchinson is the Senior Pastor of Grace Presbyterian Church in Blacksburg, Virginia, and the author of Rediscovering Humility (New Growth Press, 2018). He graduated with an A.B. from Duke University and an M.Div. from Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary.

In her collection of essays, Holy the Firm, Annie Dillard explains that she began attending Roman Catholic Mass “simply and solely to escape Protestant guitars.”[1] Many of us have felt similar sentiments or have friends who became so fed up with evangelical fads or blandness that they have ended up “swimming the Tiber” to Rome. I am sympathetic with those who have a longing for greater grandeur, beauty and tradition in worship. They rightly judge that much of contemporary American Protestantism has so enmeshed itself in our surrounding culture that it can almost be considered a syncretistic religion. Money, numbers, emotion, and the constant desire to be deemed acceptable and successful by their unbelieving peers have so watered down many evangelicals’ concept of the Gospel, that it is no wonder serious Christians look elsewhere for a more authentic expression of the faith.

Nevertheless, I have often cautioned my Reformed friends who feel the need for a change to stop their pendulum swing somewhere north of the Tiber, and to try to stay on this side of the Thames or the Rhine; that is, to become Anglican or Lutheran if they must. Better yet would be to rediscover the simplicity and beauty of classic Reformed worship and ecclesiology, along with the latter addition of instrumentation and hymns for greater balance and catholicity. There is harm in going all the way over to Rome, whose official doctrines since Trent officially water down the grace of the Gospel, and which itself is a syncretistic mixture of Scripture and culture, albeit the culture of a dying Roman empire from a millennium ago. Just because it is older and feels grander does not make it any less corrupt than our contemporary evangelical mess. All means of clutter still serve to obscure the Gospel that comes by faith, not sight.

It may surprise readers that this dilemma is not new. Robert Lewis Dabney discusses the tendency of some Protestants to head to Rome in his 1894 essay, “The Attractions of Popery.”[2] While this essay belongs to an earlier, more polemic age, and one that was pre-Vatican II, which greatly softened Rome’s errors and stance towards us “separated brethren,” it nevertheless offers insights that ring true today. Indeed, it is refreshing to find in such polemics the actual idea that truth matters and that people should decide matters by precept rather than by sentiment. Moreover, we find Dabney to be not so much critical of Rome (which of course he is), but frustrated with the state of his contemporary Protestantism that made Roman Catholicism such an attraction option.

For instance, Dabney critiques not only “democratic Protestantism,” which has declined into “Jacobin libertinism,” but also “rationalistic and skeptical Protestantism.”[3] Both have so failed to guard truth and godliness that Rome appears as a relative bastion of stability and morality. Never mind that Rome is able to adjust her teaching when she sees fit, according to her own processes, since she rejects sola scriptura; in comparison to revivalistic and liberal Protestantism, she appears to be the conservative alternative.

In contrast to all this Protestant weakness, Dabney writes, “Meantime, Rome gets up no spurious revivals; she works her system with the steadiness and perseverance which used to characterize pastoral effort and family religion among Presbyterians. Her worship is liturgical, but her liturgies, however erroneous in doctrine, are at least, genteel, and marked by aesthetic dignity.”[4] In other words, worse than the superstitious Roman piety is the practical atheism of the typical Protestant.

And yet, Dabney insists that Rome is not the answer, despite the attractions it offers. He delineates six of these attractions which were a powerful draw in the American Gilded Age: 1) the political power that accompanies a “permanently endowed” institution; 2) an appeal to the natural “aristocracy” each man craves; 3) the show of a more “spectacular and ritualistic” worship with its “architectural pomps and operatic music;” 4) a half-way station to man’s natural polytheism and image worship via the “intermediate gods” of saint veneration; 5) the replacement of spiritual salvation with concrete, material and spectacular rituals; and 6) the offer of Purgatory as a more “reasonable” doctrine than the immutable fate of eternal heaven or hell.[5]

While some of these attractions may have held particular force in the late 19th century, I think we can agree that even in a post-Vatican II world, the basic thrusts of the attractions remain the same in our day. Particularly telling and dangerous are the last two attractions, ones that must be resisted by souls who love the doctrines of grace, and who know that their only hope remains in an absolute pardon founded upon the full propitiation of the substitutionary atonement, which is accessed by faith alone. As Dabney writes, rituals better suit the sinful, selfish soul that does not wish to part with its sins, and also does not wish to go to hell. “It is less irksome to the carnal mind to do twelve dozen pater-nosters by the beads than to do a few moments of real heart-work.”[6] But those who know the depths of their own sin and the sufficiency of Christ’s blood would rather do real heart-work than settle for a half-justification which, in the end, provides little comfort or assurance. Despite any sentiment we may feel towards propriety in worship, abandoning sola fide is never the answer.

In that regard, Dabney’s essay represents the best of theology, one that both addresses particular problems in its own age, and yet advances principles that are timeless, and an aid to all generations. And thus in our own age of such rampant evangelical errors, his essay remains a help to those who sense the urge to take the plunge into the cold Tiber. The far shore may look attractive from afar, but a closer examination reveals much healthier grounds closer to home, if yet distinct from what now dominates the landscape.

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[1] Annie Dillard, Holy the Firm (New York: Harper & Row, 1984), 59.

[2] Robert Lewis Dabney, Discussions (Harrisonburg, VA: Sprinkle Publications, 1994), 4:540-567.

[3] Ibid., 544-5.

[4] Ibid., 546.

[5] Ibid., 550-567.

[6] Ibid., 563.

James Beverlin Ramsey, Worthy To Be Had "In Everlasting Remembrance"

Mark Harrell, Sr., is an independent scholar in Chesapeake, Virginia and a member of the Presbyterian Church in America (PCA).

Pastor James Beverlin Ramsey, a Presbyterian minister, was born near Elkton in Cecil County, Maryland, on May 20, 1814. When he was six years of age, his father passed away, leaving him to the sole care and education of his mother. She was a woman of remarkable wisdom, strength, and godliness, and the two were close until her death, which came not long before his own. When James was fourteen years old, he made his public profession of faith in Jesus Christ. He did not know when he became a child of God, though his mother thought he showed evidence of being a Christian when his father died.[1]

Ramsay completed his education at Lafayette College on September 21, 1836, achieving the Valedictorian of the first graduating class.[2] That same year he commenced his studies at Princeton Theological Seminary, and after completion of the standard three-year curriculum, he concluded the fourth year in the study of theology and the original Scripture languages. One of his teachers with whom he became personally familiar, Dr. J. Addison Alexander, a renowned linguist, said that when Ramsey exited Seminary, he was competent to instruct any class at the institution.[3]

Following seminary, Ramsay was ordained by the Second New York Presbytery on February 2, 1841, and installed pastor of First Presbyterian Church, West Farms, New York.[4] He resigned in 1845 to serve as a missionary to the American Indians. On June 1, 1846, he assumed the superintendency of Spencer Academy, a boarding school for the Choctaw Indians located in the vicinity of Fort Towson, Oklahoma, on behalf of the Presbyterian Church. With adversities and trials pressing heavily on him, staff disunity at the zenith, and his health deteriorating, Ramsay decided to submit his resignation in March 1849. In June, he welcomed the news that his successor was on the way. However, before he could leave, both his wife and infant son died. He blamed his troubles upon his actions and refused to pray for a period.[5]

During the succeeding five years, Ramsey engaged himself in teaching, and as his health permitted him, also in preaching as a stated supply. The final two years before taking the pastorate at New Monmouth Church in 1853 he spent in the borders of New Providence Church in Rockbridge County, Virginia. He spent this time with the family of Reverend James Morrison, the pastor of New Providence Church and the father-in-law of R. L. Dabney. Afterward, Ramsey represented these two years as the happiest time of his life.[6]

As a consequence of improved health, he received a call in 1853 to serve the Presbyterian Church at New Monmouth Church in Rockbridge County, Virginia, the first year as their Stated Supply.[7] They installed him as their pastor on July 23, 1854,[8] and he spent four years of dedicated pastoral labor there among a compassionate people, harvesting valuable and plentiful rewards into eternal life.[9]

His election as the pastor of the First Church in Lynchburg, Virginia, transpired on July 17, 1858, with a salary of $1,200. He consented to the call “under a sense of public duty,” by the pressure of members of the Synod along with the Church in Lynchburg. He arrived in August 1858 and was installed on November 21, 1858. At his installation service, Dr. J. M. B. Atkinson presided and delivered the charge to the new pastor and Dr. R. L. Dabney preached and provided the mandate to the congregation.[10]

In May 1867, Ramsey’s health, fragile since 1849, had diminished to the point where the Session felt they needed to elect an “Assistant Pastor, E. M. Barnett, a licentiate of Lexington Presbytery,” for $400 per year salary and board. At the March 1869 meeting of Presbytery, discussion was held for First Church to establish a school on First Church’s school property next to the Church, where a boarding school for “young ladies” had formerly been run. Furthermore, the hope was that the church’s fragile pastor, no longer able to carry on the work of pastoring a congregation, might be able, with the help of his wife, to re-establish the school. On May 31, 1869, a joint board meeting passed a resolution to establish a female Presbyterian School in Lynchburg and to bring it before the Church and congregation. That meeting was June 9, 1869, and the decision was made that this “school should at once be established…under the supervision and control of the pastor, and…to ascertain what each would contribute to Dr. Ramsey’s salary next year,…for Dr. Ramsey’s use as a school.”[11] Shortly after that, Dr. Ramsey and his family, together with a few boarders who lived with the family, moved to the house next to the Church, where a day school was located for the next eighteen or nineteen years. In 1870, employed entirely in the school which supported him, he resigned his pastorate, “after repeated solicitations from himself” that he be allowed to do so. These solicitations had possibly begun in 1867, or even in 1866. Dr. Ramsey’s resignation was accepted at a congregational meeting on April 24, 1870, because of his “continued physical infirmities.” The resolutions adopted at that meeting reflected the love and admiration his congregation felt for their respected pastor.[12]

James Beverlin Ramsey lived for a little over a year longer, his death occurring on July 23, 1871, a Sabbath morning.[13] Major T. J. Kirkpatrick spoke of his ministry: “Viewed in any light, Dr. Ramsey was an extraordinary man. Gifted by nature with a great mind…and a rare power of concentration, he had from very early life devoted himself to the pursuit of knowledge…All these great gifts and attainments were, from the beginning dedicated to the service and glory of God. His love of Christ was the passion of his soul…For him to live was Christ – in motive, work, joy, and object. He was very like his blessed Master in humility, courage, honesty, benevolence and heavenly-mindedness. As a preacher, he was eminently earnest and instructive…As a pastor, he was watchful, faithful and tender…As a ruler in the Church, he was a wonderfully wise man…He had deep insight into human nature and great common sense.”[14] Charles Hodge concludes his brief biographical sketch with these words: “Had a longer life and more comfortable health been known by him, larger and richer fruits would no doubt have been harvested from his particular culture and ripe religious experience. His name stands worthy to be had ‘in everlasting remembrance.’”[15]

Notes on his sermons and writings[16]:

·       The Elders That Rule Well: A Sermon, Preached at Lexington, VA., April 4, 1855, At The Opening Of Lexington Presbytery, And Published at Its Request. Lexington [Va.]: Smith & Fuller, 1855. This sermon was on I Timothy 5:17, “Let the elders that rule well be considered worthy of double honor.”

·       The Deaconship: an essay, prepared by appointment of the Synod of Virginia, read before that body at their meeting at Charlottesville, on the 3rd of November, 1858, and published at their request. Richmond, Va.: Presbyterian Committee of Publication, 1858. Published in the Southern Presbyterian Review, 12.1 (April 1859), 1-24. In this essay Ramsey says that the great leading functions of the church may be regarded as four: the aggressive, the teaching, the governing and the charitable. The first three are for the elder and the fourth for the deacon.

·       God's way in the sanctuary remembered; a sermon preached Dec. 23d, 1860, before the congregations of the 1st and 2d Presbyterian Churches of Lynchburg, assembled together, in commemoration of the first meeting of the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland, on December 20th, 1560. Lynchburg [Va.]: J.C. Johnson, 1861. The passage for this sermon was Psalm 77:10-13. Ramsey proclaimed that perils are on every side of them, and help can come from God alone. He warns that it is a fearful thing to be found opposed to him, while full of zeal for the country.

·       True eminence founded on holiness. A discourse occasioned by the death of Lieut. Gen. T.J. Jackson, preached in the First Presbyterian Church of Lynchburg, May 24th, 1863. Lynchburg [Va.]: Virginian “Water-power Presses” Print., 1863. Ramsey preached this sermon when Jackson’s body was transported to Lynchburg to be put on the packet boat Marshall to convey him to Lexington. Doctor Ramsey declares in the sermon that although Jackson’s loss seems irreparable to the Church and country especially during the crisis of the day, God has the power to raise others in Jackson’s stead. This sermon was not planned for publication at first. However, there was such an outcry for it by the people that were not able to listen to the sermon preached, that he published it after getting the approval of Jackson’s connections, Jackson’s widow, Jackson’s pastor, and the requests of the people.

·       “How Shall I Live?” Tract no. 176 of the Evangelical Tract Society in Petersburg, VA. In this tract Ramsey uses Philippians 1:17 to talk about how happy Paul was to live in Christ even though his conditions were terrible. Usually attached to the tracgt was a short story entitled, The Strict Search, about being ready at all times to witness to all kinds of people we meet in everyday situations.

·       Follow the saints: a memorial of Samuel McCorkle, a ruling elder for thirty-four years of the First Prsbyterian [sic] Church of Lynchburg, Va., who died August 6th, 1866. An obituary notice and the sermon addressed to the church in improvement of his death. Lynchburg: Virginian Book and Job Office Print., 1867.

·        “The History of the Spiritual Kingdom.” Southern Presbyterian Review 19.4 (October 1868), 465-502. This article was republished posthumously in 1873 with a biography of James Beverlin Ramsey included. In the work, he talks about God restoring his kingdom when every vestige of sin’s dominion is wiped out, and death itself, the last enemy, destroyed, and all things are made new.

·       Questions on Bible doctrine for the closet, the family, and Bible classes. Richmond: Presbyterian Committee of Publication, 1869.

·       The spiritual kingdom: an exposition of the first eleven chapters of the book of the Revelation. Richmond, Va., Presbyterian committee of publication, 1873.

·       [With Robert Lewis Dabney] Questions on Old Testament history. Lynchburg, Va.: Bell, Browne & Co., 1879.

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[1] James B. Ramsey, The Spiritual Kingdom: An Exposition of the First Eleven Chapters of the Book of The Revelation (Richmond: J.S. Peacock & Company, 1873), 3. Charles Hodge wrote the biographical sketch of Ramsey included in this volume.

[2] Selden J. Coffin, Record of the Men of Lafayette: Brief Biographical Sketches of the Alumni of Lafayette College, from Its Organization to the Present Time (Easton, PA: Skinner & Finch, 1879), 9. Lafayette College was located in Easton, Pennsylvania, and was founded in 1826. Reverend George Junkin, D. D. was president fromm 1832-1840.

[3] Ramsey, The Spiritual Kingdom: An Exposition of the First Eleven Chapters of the Book of The Revelation, 3.

[4] Robert Bolton Jr., History of the County of Westchester, from Its First Settlement to the Present Time, Vol. II (New York: Alexander S. Gould, 1848), 268. First Presbyterian Church today is Beck Memorial Presbyterian Church.

[5] W. David Baird, “Spencer Academy, Choctaw Nation, 1842-1900,” The Chronicles of Oklahoma XLV, no. 1 (Spring 1967): 25-43.

[6] Ramsey, The Spiritual Kingdom: An Exposition of the First Eleven Chapters of the Book of The Revelation, 3-4.

[7] Wayne Sparkman, “James Beverlin Ramsey,” PCA Historical Center, May 20, 2013, accessed February 4, 2019, http://www.thisday.pcahistory.org/2013/05/may-20-james-beverlin-ramsey/.

[8] The Home and Foreign Record of the Presbyterian Church in the United States of America (Philadelphia: Publication House, 1854), 257-288.

[9] Ramsey, The Spiritual Kingdom: An Exposition of the First Eleven Chapters of the Book of The Revelation, 3-4.

[10] Mary Elizabeth Kinnier Bratton, Our Goodly Heritage: A History of the First Presbyterian Church of Lynchburg, Virginia, 1815-1940 (Lynchburg, Virginia: J. P. Bell Company, Inc., 1942), 37.

[11] Bratton, Our Goodly Heritage, 53-54.

[12] Bratton, Our Goodly Heritage, 53-54.

[13] Ramsey, The Spiritual Kingdom: An Exposition of the First Eleven Chapters of the Book of The Revelation, 4.

[14] Bratton, Our Goodly Heritage, 55-56.

[15] Ramsey, The Spiritual Kingdom: An Exposition of the First Eleven Chapters of the Book of The Revelation, 4.

[16] For more information, see “James Beverlin Ramsey,” PCA Historical Center, accessed February 14, 2019, http://www.pcahistory.org/HCLibrary/periodicals/spr/bios/ramsey.html

Thomas Smyth and Nineteenth Century Confessionalism

Dr. Miles Smith is an Assistant Professor of Government, History & Criminal Justice at Regent University in Virginia Beach, Virginia. He previously taught at Texas Christian University and Hillsdale College. His teaching generally focuses on the Nineteenth Century United States, but he also enjoys lecturing on Europe and Latin America.

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In 1789 Presbyterians in the new United States met and amended the Westminster Confession to more closely align with the American republic’s increasingly disestablishmentarian understanding of church and state. Thomas Jefferson’s violent hatred of the doctrine of the trinity and historical Protestantism dovetailed nicely with the anti-Anglican dispositions of the majority of Virginia’s population, which by 1790 attended Baptist or Methodist churches. Virginia’s Presbyterians, eager to remove the Church of England’s privileged institutional opinion, joined their low-church brethren in supporting disestablishment. Jefferson, however, proved less interested in religious freedom and more interested in attacking Christian orthodoxy. Athanasius’ defense of the Trinity, he told a friend, was “the hocus-pocus phantasm of a god like another Cerberus, with one body and three heads, [and] had its birth and growth in the blood of thousands and thousands of martyrs.” Virginia Presbyterians realized their mistake too late when Jefferson tried to install noted religious skeptic Thomas Cooper as the primary religion professor at the new University of Virginia. The appointment infuriated Presbyterians in Virginia like John Hartwell Cocke and John Holt Rice. The latter used his pulpit and the widely circulated Evangelical Magazine which he edited to mobilize respectable opinion. Jefferson chose another candidate and the controversy died, but Presbyterians subsequently confronted the dilemma of how to reconcile the consequences of their support for culturally and politically driven disestablishment with their belief in robust ecclesiology. Thomas Smyth, minister of Charleston’s Second Presbyterian Church, confronted that tension. At various times and in various works he seemed to take different positions. Smyth’s confessional commitments, however, ultimately anchored his public statements from the pulpit in accordance with the Old School Presbyterian Church, even as he used other writings to reach views that sometimes varied with the Old School orthodoxy.[1]

The maintenance of the appropriate place and power of the church in North American republican society concerned Presbyterians. The interaction of a churchmanship formulated in Europe and in Great Britain and steeped in magisterial and monarchical tradition presented a paradox for the libertarian religious realities of the United States constitution. Many Presbyterians were heavily Americanized, and they sought to make the church both consistent with the Confession and familiar for American churchgoers. The most effective way of perpetuating the church proved to be aggressive catechesis. More importantly, the Westminster Confession bounded the beliefs of American churchmen, even those whose dispositions regarding the civil order and politics were heavily influenced by their personal experiences and societal moments. Such was the case of Smyth, a well-known Irish-born pastor in Charleston, South Carolina.

 In 1840 Thomas Smyth wrote An Ecclesiastical Catechism of the Presbyterian Church. Rev. Smyth ostensibly wrote the catechism for family use, bible classes, and individual members. Yet it served a surprising wider purpose than mere catechesis. Smyth’s work helped preserve a cosmopolitan and transnational understanding of Calvinist churchmanship during a time when Evangelical and low-church innovation challenged the necessity and observance of the sacraments in Protestant worship.

Unlike his fellow South Carolinians John B. Adger or James Henley Thornwell, Smyth did not embrace the notion of high churchmanship as readily or as enthusiastically as a de facto panacea for Reformed churches. Still, he emerged as an intellectual and minister far more willing to maintain Calvinist sacramentalism than the so-called Evangelicals of his day. In many ways this was a struggle for Smyth. Like many Evangelicals he loved the United States’ republican liberties. He also saw republicanism as divinely ordained. Unlike other Old School Presbyterians, he did not see the ecclesiastic and civil realms as entirely separate, although he did not believe that the state should support a specific church. Smyth disagreed especially with the notion put forward by Charles Hodge that the Christian Scriptures did not put forth any natural framework for ecclesiastical structure. He also agreed with Adger and Thornwell that Presbyterianism was divinely instructed but went one step further and argued that nature and human association favored both Presbyterianism and republicanism. He defended his natural law argument for both against those who regarded “any alleged connection between the systems of ecclesiastical and civil government” as merely a “visionary dream, concluding, that because politically distinct and separate, their moral and intellectual relations are equally independent.” To such minds—like Hodge in his own time and John Knox and others historically—he presented “the considerations offered in the following work, and asks for them a candid and impartial hearing.” His “following work” was his Ecclesiastical Republicanism, which explained the history of divinely imprinted republicanism found in both Jewish and Christian civil and ecclesiastic history. Smyth’s arguments stemmed from his extreme dislike of Roman Catholicism and what he called high-churchism, both undoubtedly products of his upbringing in Ulster. Unlike Scotland, Presbyterianism did not enjoy state sanction in Northern Ireland. Smyth developed an intense dislike of Britain’s Anglican monarchy and Ireland’s Roman Catholic prelacy. Interestingly, however, Smyth’s views on slavery remained relatively moderate. [2]

A commitment to confessionalism kept Smyth’s diverse and Americanized notions of the relationship between church and state from impacting his understanding of doctrinal teaching or sacramental observation. His 1841 catechism affirmed the generally accepted understanding among Old School Presbyterians that “the Christian church is entirely separate and distinct from civil society, in its nature, objects, and ends. The church was “spiritual in its nature” and had as its reference the souls of men as its object.” He also affirmed scripture, rather than the natural order, as the source of the church’s government.[3]

Smyth’s writings developed over the course of the 1850s. Historian Brooks Holifield argued that Smyth “flatly repudiated” the notion that religion and politics had nothing to do with each other, a position that placed him at odds with Thornwell and others. Holifield also noted however that Smyth rejected the reformism common among Evangelicals of the era. Smyth confronted a paradox and tension that confronted Reformed churchmen throughout the United States’ history. He resolved it by relying on the confession to guide his ecclesiastic practice, even as he intellectually questioned Old School orthodoxies on the civil order and the church in his writings.[4]

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[1] Thomas Jefferson to James Smith, 8 December 1822; Clement Eaton, The Mind of the Old South (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University, 1964), 7.

[2] Thomas Smyth, Ecclesiastical Republicanism (Boston: Crocker and Brewster, 1843), 7.

[3] Thomas Smyth, An Ecclesiastical Catechism of the Presbyterian Church (Boston: Crocker and Brewster, 1841), 30-31.

[4] E. Brooks Holifield, "Thomas Smyth: The Social Ideas of a Southern Evangelist," Journal of Presbyterian History 51 (1973): 24-39.

Robert Jefferson Breckinridge and the Elder Question

Caleb Cangelosi is an Associate Pastor at Pear Orchard Presbyterian Church in Ridgeland, MS, and the Publisher of Log College Press. He is a graduate of Louisiana State University (BS), Reformed Theological Seminary (MDiv), and Puritan Reformed Theological Seminary (ThM). The following is adapted from his ThM thesis, which was on the controversy over the call to the ministry in the 19th century Southern Presbyterian Church, and can be found here.

Across the country this year in the denomination in which I serve (the Presbyterian Church in America), men will be set apart to the work of gospel ministry by the hands of other ministers (teaching elders) and the hands of ruling elders laid upon them. More than likely, no one present at these ordination services will think it a strange thing for ruling elders to participate in the ordination of a teaching elder. Yet a quick journey back to America in the 1840s reminds us that the PCA ought not to take for granted the practices and privileges of her current polity.

The “elder question” arose in January of 1841, just a few years after the Old School and New School parties within the Presbyterian Church in the United States of America divided in the face of their ecclesiological and theological differences.[1] From that split of 1837 until the outbreak of Civil War when they were rent asunder sectionally, the Old School Presbyterians, like other denominations of that era, were beset by differing opinions in the areas of church polity.[2] The elder controversy began when the Synod of Indiana’s decision to allow ruling elders to take part in the ordination of ministers was challenged in the religious press. Robert Jefferson Breckinridge engaged the issue, contending for the elder’s right to lay hands on ministers being ordained.[3] At the 1841 General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church in the United States of America, at which Breckinridge was elected Moderator, the Synod of Indiana put forward an overture recommending that “the question of the office of ruling Elders in ordination, be sent down to the Presbyteries.” The overture was taken up but indefinitely postponed.[4]

In 1842 the matter came back to the Assembly, this time as a communication from the Western District, a presbytery of the Synod of West Tennessee.[5] The Assembly approved the unanimous recommendation of the Committee of Bills and Overtures: that the church should adhere “to the order, and until recently, the uniform practices of our Church on this subject, viz. to allow preaching elders or bishops only to engage in that service [i.e., the ordination of ministers].”[6] The battle began to be waged even more fervently in the lower church courts and in the press, particularly in the Philadelphia Presbyterian, Breckinridge’s Spirit of the XIX Century, and Princeton Seminary’s Biblical Repertory. The West Lexington Presbytery sent a resolution to the 1843 General Assembly, declaring that it believed ruling elders did have the right to unite with ministers in the ordination of ministers. After much debate over several days, the Assembly, by a 138-9 vote, judged, “that neither the Constitution, nor the practice of our Church, authorizes Ruling Elders to impose hands in the ordination of Ministers.” Breckinridge voted with what was a definite minority. At the same Assembly, it was resolved that ruling elders did not have to be present to constitute a quorum of a Presbytery, but “any three ministers of a Presbytery, being regularly convened, are a quorum competent to the transaction of all business, agreeably to the provision contained in the Form of Government, Chap. x. Sec. 7.”[7] On this matter the vote was closer, 83-35, but Breckinridge still found himself in the minority.

At this point Breckinridge and James Henley Thornwell began to correspond regularly about the unfolding controversy. Thornwell wrote “The Ruling Elder a Presbyter,” published first in Breckinridge’s Spirit of the XIX Century. That fall, Breckinridge delivered two arguments before the Synod of Philadelphia: “Presbyterian Government not a Hierarchy, but a Commonwealth” and “Presbyterian Ordination not a Charm, but an Act of Government.”[8] These matters came before the 1844 General Assembly by way of an appeal and complaint by Breckinridge against the Synod of Philadelphia, and overtures from the Presbytery of Cincinnati, Transylvania, South Alabama, and East Alabama, asking the Assembly to reverse its 1843 decision. The Assembly judged that Breckinridge’s complaints and appeals were not permitted by the Constitution to come before the Assembly, and answered the overtures in the negative.[9]

With this decision, the matter was settled with respect to the Presbyterian Church in the United States of America. Breckinridge was content to “rest his case with providence after continual defeat,” and “never again advocated the divine right of elders in the church courts.”[10] But he never changed his mind about the principles involved:

I thought it my duty to submit unreservedly to the decision of the minority of that body, and other Presbyters, both Preaching and Ruling then present, whose opinions on these great questions coincided, in general, with my own; the line of conduct which it behooved us to adopt in such a case. Their judgment was clear and unanimous, that we were bound, in conscience, to adhere to our principles, to promote them as we had opportunity, and faithfully testifying for them, to await the developments of God’s providence.[11]

 What were the principles for which Breckinridge contended in this debate? Underlying his convictions that ruling elders should be allowed to impose hands in the ordination of ministers, and that ruling elders are necessary for a quorum of a Presbytery, were several key beliefs. First, he held that ruling elders were a constituent part of Presbytery, and therefore had a right to be present at Presbytery, and participate in the act of ordination, which was the work of Presbytery.[12] Second, he held that making ruling elders unnecessary for a quorum or ordination struck at the heart of Presbyterian church government. The representative nature of ruling elders, writes Breckinridge

is an essential element of Presbyterianism: destroy this, and the entire system perished. This is the element that distinctly separates it from prelacy on the one hand, and congregationalism on the other. Admit the principle that the ministry may, without the presence of any representative of God's people, transact the business of the people, and you lay our glorious system of representative republicanism in ruins: and over those ruins you may easily pave a highway to prelacy and popery.[13]

 There were many more arguments made by Breckinridge, Thornwell, and those on their side, but most fundamentally, their views on the ruling elder flowed out of their belief that Presbyterianism was jure divino, by divine right: “[T]he order of [Christ’s] house is not a question left to us – but it is one distinctly settled by himself.” Jesus had prescribed the government for his church:

The Lord Jesus Christ is King in Zion; the whole model and working of his kingdom are matters of revelation; the complete execution of the mission of his church is absolutely impossible, until she puts away all carnal devices and puts on the whole armour of light; and we have no more warrant from God to make a church government for him and in his name – than to make any other part of his religion. It is idle to talk about church government being jure divino, in its great principles and not in its details; or as they say, in the abstract and not in the concrete. The truth is, it is both: for not only are the great principles laid down for us, but the officers and courts are named; the nature and duties of the one, the qualifications, vocation, and powers of the other, are set forth; the relations of all the parts to each other and to the whole are precisely set forth. A government, in general – the kind of government in particular – the officers and courts in special – their duties and powers in detail: this is what God has set before us, by revelation, for the Christian church.[14]

 From these principles, Breckinridge argued for the rights of ruling elders.

Ironically, it would be the Southern Presbyterian Church after the Civil War which would finally codify the position of Breckinridge on ruling elders. This issue no longer agitates the church, as the Presbyterian churches in America have essentially settled the question satisfactorily for themselves in a variety of directions. Yet engaging the debate of the 1840s is important and helpful as we continue to think through the role of ruling elders in the life of the church and the true nature of Presbyterianism.

               1. For more on the Old School – New School split, see George Marsden, The Evangelical Mind and the New School Presbyterian Experience: A Case Study of Thought and Theology in Nineteenth-Century America (1970; repr., Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, 2003); James Wood, Old and New Theology (Philadelphia: Presbyterian Board of Publication, 1845); and Peter J. Wallace, “The Bond of Union: The Old School Presbyterian Church and the American Nation, 1837-1861” (PhD diss., Notre Dame University, 2004), accessed February 1, 2018, http://www.peterwallace.org/dissertation.

                2. See Ernest Trice Thompson, Presbyterians in the South (Richmond, VA: John Knox Press, 1963), 1:510ff.; Luder G. Whitlock, Jr., “Elders and Ecclesiology in the Thought of James Henley Thornwell,” Westminster Theological Journal 37, no. 1 (Fall 1974): 45. For Breckinridge’s views on the connection between the division of 1837 and the ruling elder controversy, see Edgar Caldwell Mayse, “Robert Jefferson Breckinridge and the ‘Elder Question’,” Affirmation 6, no. 2 (Fall 1993): 73-74.

                3. Mayse, “Robert Jefferson Breckinridge and the ‘Elder Question’,” 76. Mayse opines, “Although it would not be fair to call the elder question ‘a controversy of Breckinridge’s personal creation’ [quoting Elwyn Smith, The Presbyterian Minister in American Culture, 176], it is certain that the dispute would never have achieved its prominence and bitterness had the Baltimore pastor decided to confine his polemical attacks to the Catholics and abolitionists.” Mayse, “Robert Jefferson Breckinridge and the ‘Elder Question’,” 76. For more on the ruling elder controversy, see Benjamin Morgan Palmer, The Life and Letters of James Henley Thornwell (1875; repr., Edinburgh: The Banner of Truth Trust, 1986), 251ff.; Whitlock, “Elders and Ecclesiology in the Thought of James Henley Thornwell,” 44-56; Thompson, Presbyterians in the South, 1:516ff.; Mayse, “Robert Jefferson Breckinridge and the ‘Elder Question’,” 73-88; Mayse, “Robert Jefferson Breckinridge: American Presbyterian Controversialist” (ThD diss., Union Theological Seminary, 1974), 356-439; John Lloyd Vance, “The Ecclesiology of James Henley Thornwell” (PhD diss., Drew University, 1990), 194-208; and Mark R. Brown, ed., Order in the Offices (Duncansville, PA: Classic Presbyterian Government Resources, 1993), especially the article therein by Iain Murray, “Ruling Elders – a Sketch of a Controversy,” 157-168.

                4. Minutes of the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church in the United States of America (Philadelphia: The Stated Clerk, 1841), 447. Mayse writes that Breckinridge was not in the Assembly hall when these votes were taken, but when he returned he was able to convince the members to reconsider their vote. Due to time constraints, the issue was referred to the next Assembly. Mayse, “Robert Jefferson Breckinridge and the ‘Elder Question’,” 77. I was not able to find these actions in the Minutes of the Assembly, but it is possible that Breckinridge mentions them in the newspaper articles he published during the controversy, to which I do not have access. Cf. Palmer, Life and Letters of James Henley Thornwell, 254.

                5. Whitlock, “Elders and Ecclesiology in the Thought of James Henley Thornwell,” 46; Mayse, “Robert Jefferson Breckinridge and the ‘Elder Question’,” 77-80.

                6. Minutes of the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church in the United States of America (Philadelphia: The Stated Clerk, 1842), 16.

                7. Minutes of the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church in the United States of America (Philadelphia: The Stated Clerk, 1843), 183, 196, cf. 190.

  8. This article can be found in Thornwell, Collected Writings (1873; repr., Vestavia Hills, AL: Solid Ground Christian Books, 2004), 4:115ff. Breckinridge’s addresses were subsequently published together with a sermon that catalyzed another controversy over the call to the ministry, “The Christian Pastor, One of the Ascension Gifts of Christ.” See Robert Nickols Watkin, “The Forming of the Southern Presbyterian Minister: From Calvin to the American Civil War” (PhD diss., Vanderbilt University, 1969), 374n30. For the correspondence between Thornwell and Breckinridge, see Palmer, Life and Letters of James Henley Thornwell, 251ff. Charles Hodge of Princeton and Thomas Smyth of Charleston, SC, were two primary opponents of the position of Thornwell and Breckinridge. Hodge’s arguments can be found, among other places, in “The Rights of Ruling Elders,” Princeton Review 15, No. 2 (April 1843), 313ff.; and What is Presbyterianism? (Philadelphia: Presbyterian Board of Publication, 1855). Smyth’s writing on the subject are found in Complete Works of Rev. Thomas Smyth, D.D., Volume 4 (Columbia, SC: The R. L. Bryan Company, 1908).

                9. Minutes of the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church in the United States of America (Philadelphia: The Stated Clerk, 1844), 352, 362, 364, 366, 370-371.

                10. Mayse, “Robert Jefferson Breckinridge and the ‘Elder Question’,” 83.

                11. Robert J. Breckinridge, The Christian Pastor, One of the Ascension Gifts of Christ (Baltimore, MD: D. Owen & Son, 1845), 4. Through this sermon, and the footnotes in the published edition, Breckinridge gives his commentary on the way the controversy played out. He was clearly upset at how the Princeton Seminary party in particular treated him, and had little patience for their arguments.

                12. Breckinridge, The Christian Pastor, 38n19. See also the protest written by Breckinridge in Minutes of the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church in the United States of America (Philadelphia: The Stated Clerk, 1843), 199.

                13. Minutes of the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church in the United States of America (Philadelphia: The Stated Clerk, 1843), 199-200. Emphasis his.

                14. Breckinridge, The Christian Pastor, 43-44.

John Williamson Nevin and the Problem of American Evangelicalism: A Brief Review of The Anxious Bench

Dr. Miles Smith is an Assistant Professor of Government, History & Criminal Justice at Regent University in Virginia Beach, Virginia. He previously taught at Texas Christian University and Hillsdale College. His teaching generally focuses on the Nineteenth Century United States, but he also enjoys lecturing on Europe and Latin America.

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Very few ministers in the Presbyterian Church circa 2019 know the writings of John Williamson Nevin. Even fewer quote him on a given Sunday morning. But in the Nineteenth Century anyone in ministry in a Reformed church in North America not only knew who Nevin was, but most likely had a strong opinion on his writing. Nevin was a Presbyterian divine and intellectual who challenged the prevailing excesses among so-called Evangelicals and revivalists active during the early Republic. His 1846 work The Mystical Presence urged a return to Calvinist views on the Eucharist and challenged the Zwinglian understanding of the Lord’s Supper held by some prominent Presbyterians of the era, such as his one-time colleague Charles Hodge. Arguably his most important work, The Anxious Bench (1843), denounced the demagoguery, emotional coercion, and doctrinal deviation associated with revivalist movements that occurred during the so-called Second Great Awakening.[1]

Nevin studied at Union College in New York and received his divinity training at Princeton Seminary, then closely affiliated with the College of New Jersey (modern day Princeton University). From 1830 to 1840, Nevin taught at what is now Pittsburgh Seminary. During his time in Pittsburgh, Nevin read the works of August Neander and other Protestant scholars. Nevin worried about the increased Puritan and Wesleyan influence on Reformed churchmanship and sacramentalism. Nevin especially saw appeals to emotion in order to gain dubious immediate “conversions” as a direct assault of the work of the Holy Spirit and the sacraments more generally. Inherent in the so-called Evangelicalism of the day was a penchant for showmanship and celebrity that conflated enthusiasm and passion with entire working of the third Person of the Trinity. Holy scripture and its un-inspired but ecclesiastically authoritative auxiliaries, creeds, confessions, and catechisms, should form the core of Protestant churchmanship, not emotionally driven opinions or narratives that hinged on no other authority than that of the speaker’s enthusiasm. “Who shall assure us,” asked Nevin, that every conversion made at a revival meeting—wherein many of the supposed convertees never went again to church or exhibited marks of piety—was  “to be regarded with confidence, as the genuine fruit of religion? It is marvelous credulity, to take every excitement in the name of religion, for the work of God’s Spirit.” Emotionally driven faux-conversions places enormous demands the charity of devout Christians when they were “asked to accept in mass, as true and solid, the wholesale conversions that are made in this way.”[2]

During the ten years that followed Nevin’s move to Pittsburgh, he spent much of his intellectual and ministerial energy on reorienting Reformed churches towards their historic fraternity with Lutherans and other sacramental Protestants. Nevin joined the German Reformed Church in 1840 in order to take a position as a professor at Mercersburg Seminary, but he remained well within the world of Reformed theologians. Presbyterians and the continental Reformed churches, Nevin knew, shared more with Lutherans than they did with New England’s Puritan Congregationalists and Wesleyans. Their revivalist and doctrinal deviations from historic Protestant doctrines became more worrisome to Nevin as revival upon revival swept across western New York and Pennsylvania. In their wakes they left a trail of heterodoxy and new churches such Joseph Smith Jr.’s Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, Swedenborgians (precursors to Oneness Pentecostals), Millerites, Shakers, and other groups. Religious cacophony and religious demagoguery, a sort of “Evangelical” Führerprinzip, emerged wherein churches were driven by popularity and raw human will power.

Nevin and other orthodox sacramental Protestants watched in horror as word and sacrament were replaced by enthusiasm and successive “new measures” utilized by revivalist ministers to gain converts. Inevitably the newness of the measures would wear off, and revivalists would try and replicate the success of the preceding measures with even newer and often more outrageous measures, many of which took the form of unhealthy emotional coercion. The listeners who attended the revivals grew, said Nevin, “obtuse to the stirring show,” and felt themselves in “no connection with what is going forward, except as they find an opportunity, from time to time, to fall in with the catch of some familiar revival-song, which they shout forth as boisterously as anybody else.” Nevin argued that “fanaticism has no power to make God’s presence felt. It is wild, presumptuous and profane, where it affects to partake most largely of the power of heaven.” “No wonder,” Nevin wrote exasperatedly, “that the religion which is commenced and carried forward under such auspices, should show itself to be characteristically coarse and gross.” [3]

The Anxious Bench’s warnings went largely unheeded and North American religiosity proved increasingly driven by what Europeans called schwarmerei, or unbridled enthusiasm. Nevin went on to serve as president and professor at what is today Franklin & Marshall College. He authored several other well-received works of theology and church history. He and Philip Schaff collaborated regularly and Nevin encouraged his colleague to complete his magnificent eight-volume History of the Christian Church. A small but welcome reclamation of Nevin by Reformed historians and theologians has occurred in the twenty-first century. Jonathan G. Bonomo’s 2015 Incarnation and Sacrament contextualizes and explains the debate over eucharistic theology between Hodge and Nevin. D.G. Hart’s John Williamson Nevin: High-Church Calvinist is an excellent biography and primer on the robust ecclesiology that typified Nevin and other Reformed clerics in the United States during the Nineteenth Century. Bonomo and Hart’s works, one hopes, will not be the last on this useful and fascinating figure in the history of North American Reformed churches.

[1] For more on the eucharistic controversy see Linden J. Debie, Coena Mystica: Debating Reformed Eucharistic Theology (Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, 2013); George W. Richards, “The Mercersburg Theology: Its Purpose and Principles,” Church History 20 (1951): 42-55; Richard E. Wentz, John Williamson Nevin, American Theologian (New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997).

[2] John Williamson Nevin, The Anxious Bench (Chambersburg: The German Reformed Church, 1844), 35-36.

[3] Nevin, The Anxious Bench, 109-110.