Bicentennial Notes on Restoration History . . .

RESTORATION EFFORTS
BEFORE THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION

Early on the morning of Dec. 15, 1974, a few hours before gathering with the saints at the old Coplaw Street Church of Christ, it was my pleasure to visit the Old Cathedral in Glasgow, Scotland, whose elegant spire has stood like a sentinel over the ancient city since the Middle Ages. The old kirk was once the home of the archbishops who ruled Scotland for the pope in Rome, and it went on to witness the great Reformation under Luther, which swept through old Scotia under the leadership of the fiery John Knox.

The reformation adage, “The blood of martyrs became the seed of the kingdom,” was especially true of Scotland. John Knox himself, born in 1505 (12 years before Luther nailed his theses on the Wittenberg castle door), was inspired by George Wishart, who was burned at the stake for. preaching the priesthood of all believers throughout Scotland. Young Knox would stand at Wishart’s side, with his sword drawn, protecting him from the papal forces which still held sway in that country. But a single sword was not enough. The cardinal that condemned Wishart to the stake was himself murdered not long afterwards. Scotland was bleeding in those days, not only with the blood of her sturdy sons who would reform her, but from the continuing war with England that had gone on for over two centuries.

Patrick Hamilton is one of the great names in Scottish history. He was of royal lineage, educated at the influential University of Paris, and motivated by the teachings of Erasmus. He was on the faculty at Edinburgh when the Parliament ruled that Luther’s work could not be circulated or read anywhere in Scotland. This stirred his evangelical soul, and he was soon advocating reform everywhere. He died heroically at the stake in 1528.

But Scottish martyrs had borne witness to reformation for a century or more before Knox, Hamilton and Wishart. John Resby, a Lollard preacher, and Paul Crawer, a Hussite, were burned for disseminating their antipapal views in 1407 and 1432, respectively. For a century and a half a religious war was waged between papal forces until finally, in 1560, when Knox’s preaching led to the destruction of shrines, images and cathedrals, the Parliament recognized the reformers as victorious. Knox was asked to draw up a summary of doctrine, which was strictly Calvinistic, which became the “official” religion of the country. This was the beginning of the Church of Scotland, which, as we shall see in our ensuing study, became as intolerant and persecuting as the Roman Church, a fact that is helpful in understanding the early history of our own Restoration Movement.

Such history as all this seemed to fill the air around the old Glasgow Cathedral as I walked her yards that cold December morn, where, they say, as many as a million (!) saints are interred. Before my mind’s eye passed the gallant lives of John Glas, Robert Sandeman, Greville Ewing, John Campbell, Pastor Innes of Stirling, and the Haldane brothers, Robert and James. All these were Scotland’s own native sons, reared in the official state church, who finally, one by one, left that church and started free congregations. They staged a reformation or restoration that called down the fury of ecclesiastical authority upon them. Thomas Campbell, a pastor in his native Ireland, was exposed to their thinking when some of them made their way across the Irish sea. Alexander Campbell was exposed to it even more when he studied in Glasgow in 1808. All this we shall be reviewing in subsequent installments.

Had I listened quietly enough that Lord’s day morn I might have heard, through the ear of faith at least, the clarion voice of Rowland Hill, the English evangelist, who was brought to Scotland in 1798 by the Haldane brothers. His preaching of Jesus fired the hearts of the Scots like the poetry of their own Robert Burns. Rowland Hill remained always a part of the Church of England, working for reform from within. Chastened by the ignorance of the gospel he found even within the church, along with all the carnality, he was dedicated to the cause of church reform.

One of Hill’s great meetings was right there on the grounds of the old Cathedral, where 5,000 persons heard him lift up Jesus as the light of life. Basing his remarks on Isa. 60:19, where the prophet says, “The Lord shall be unto thee an everlasting light, and thy God thy glory,” he urged the people to accept Jesus as God in Christ, the hope of glory and the light of the world. Robert Haldane, a wealthy layman who worked outside the established church, brought Hill to Scotland, and together they brought many laymen into a reformation movement. Robert Haldane, an old sea captain whose story we shall be telling with some detail, preached reform with such zeal that he sometimes had to refrain on account of spitting up blood.

It does something to you, standing there all alone amidst so great a cloud of witnesses, realizing that within the thick walls of that ancient shrine lie the remains of Robert Haldane himself. It says something for the independent mind of the Scots that they would bury the old reformer within the sacred blocks of the Cathedral.

It was in the days of Rowland Hill and Robert Haldane that Bobby Burns, old Scotia’s homemade poet, wrote as follows, in honor of a humble cottager, who would no doubt have responded to the call for reform:

Compared with this, how poor Religion’s pride,

In all the pomp of method and of art

When men display to congregations wide

Devotion’s every grace, except the heart!

The Power incensed, the pageant will desert,

The pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole;

But haply, in some cottage far apart,

May hear, well pleased the language of the soul,

And in His book of life the inmates poor enrol.

Agony and tragedy marks Scottish history, whether religious or political. Two centuries ago our own Patrick Henry urged our founding fathers against the English with that cry, “Give me liberty or give me death!” and he went on to enjoy the liberty won as a governor of Virginia, dying peacefully in his old age. Scotland’s counterpart would be William Wallace, who also urged his countrymen against the English, leading the army himself, as did our George Washington. While he gained momentary victory, his lot was at last an ignominious death. The king of England mangled his body and impaled it on London Bridge, inspiring that line from Burns:

O Thou who poured the patriotic tide

That streamed through Wallace’s undaunted heart.


The young bard used the right word to describe the Scottish spirit — undaunted. The Scots first appear in history keeping the Romans at bay, and a millennium later they are routing the English, always struggling to be a free people. Since 1707, seven decades before our own birth as a nation, they have been a voluntary (voluntary, they’ll have you know!) member of the British Commonwealth. Since the union of the two countries no British monarch has dared to wear the crown worn by the rulers of Scotland. For 269 years Scottish guards have watched over the glass-encased crown in the old castle in Edinburgh, once worn for nearly half a century by their beloved Mary, Queen of Scots. The present British monarch, after her own coronation in Westminster Abbey in London, visited the crown room in Scotland. She gently put forth a hand and barely touched the crown, as if to pay homage to that “patriotic tide that streamed through Wallace’s undaunted heart.” It is a crown that will never again be worn, unless perchance a Scot someday rules over the British Empire.

Such is the spirit of Scotland. Her history has lent distinction to her culture, literature, law, education, and religion. The Church of England, like ourselves, has congregations in Scotland, but, also like ourselves, they must be part of the free churches, separate from the Church of Scotland. Her several universities are among the oldest and most renowned in the world. Her system of justice has for centuries been uniquely respected by the world of jurisprudence. Her scientists invented both TV and penicillin.

And this is the spirit of her martyrs and reformers. It is an august roll call the Hamiltons, the Knoxes, the Haldanes, the Wisharts, both before and after our own Revolution. John Knox came up from a galley slave to wrest power from the pope in Rome, and her adopted son, Alexander Campbell, came out of a wreck at sea to find new directions in her changing religious culture.

But in this first installment of notes on our history as a distinct religious movement, I want to review briefly a few other examples of restoration thought that go back before the American Revolution.

Only heaven knows all those lesser lights who have worked for reform, serving their own generation, not even a tithing of which are even mentioned in the history books. Some of them were especially conscious of the unity of the Spirit, realizing that a divided church could never be the true Church of Christ on earth. There was, for example, one George Calixtus: a Lutheran, who lived from 1586 to 1656. His father studied under the great Melanchthon. He antagonized his fellow Lutherans by advocating union not only with other Protestants but with Roman Catholics as well. His basis of union: “what has been believed always, everywhere, and by all,” which is strikingly similar to some of the slogans of our own Movement.

Then there was John Dury (1595 - 1680), another Scotsman, by the way, but one who labored all over Europe, appearing before courts as well as churches, advocating a unity based upon “practical divinity” rather than “ordinary philosophical jangling” of the creedal theologies, which sounds as if it were lifted from our own Thomas Campbell’s Declaration and Address. And he sounded like Barton W. Stone, over a century before Cane Ridge, when he contended that all Protestants should be called simply “Reformed Christians.” For 50 years this man labored among the warring factions, pleading for freedom in Christ and calling for a cessation of those controversies that divide believers.

There were even books published on unity that far back. Hugo Grotius (1583-1645) wrote The Way to Ecclesiastical Peace, in which he appealed to primitive Christianity as the basis for oneness. And Edward Stillingfleet of the Church of England published his Irenicum in 1662, in which he pled for unity on the ground that nothing should be made a basis for communion that Jesus did not make a basis for discipleship. He insisted that divisions have been caused by “the adding of other conditions” than those required by Jesus and his apostles. A German, Christoph Mathew Pfaff, issued his Pacific Address in 1720 in which he pled for unity on the ground that all Protestant churches are in essence one.

There were still others who may be better known to you. Richard Baxter (1615-1691) was a Puritan who was fined and imprisoned for preaching reform, and he was a fervent advocate of unity. He gave us the slogan adapted by the Campbells: “In fundamentals, unity; in non-fundamentals, liberty; in all things, charity.” John Bunyan (1628-1688) was another Puritan who was imprisoned for preaching contrary to traditional doctrines of the Anglican Church. During one long imprisonment he produced Pilgrim’s Progress, which is a plea for biblically-based piety. Archbishop James Usher (1581-1656) is known more for his chronology in the King James Bible than for his efforts toward reform and unity. He must have been the only Irish Roman Catholic of high rank who accepted Presbyterian ordination and advocated union with them.

Most all this reformed thinking had two characteristics: it took place for the most part within the churches, and they were efforts, in one way or another, to recover the simplicity of primitive Christianity. They did not think of themselves as innovators introducing new doctrines, but as agents of renewal seeking to recover the old doctrines. Luther had long since said in his commentary on Galatians: “We teach no new thing, but we repeat and establish old things, which the apostles and all godly teachers have taught before us.” Lancelot Andrewes (1555-1626) was one of the 47 scholars who produced the King James Version, and he also was a reformer within the Anglican church, though not a Puritan. Pleading for a return to the New Testament norm, he said: “We are renovators, not innovators.” Renovators, not innovators! Hardly any saying coming out of pre-Revolutionary history so well summarizes the ideal set forth by our own pioneers. And Alexander Campbell was to say in his day what Bishop Hugh Latimer said in his, almost in the same words: “But you say, it is new learning. Now I tell you it is the old learning.” Latimer had to burn at the stake for saying that, in defiance of “Bloody” Queen Mary, being among the 300 (one-fifth of them women!) that she executed as heretics. Campbell suffered in a different way when he said it. But what Latimer said at the stake just before his death, Campbell could have also said: “Be of good comfort, Master Ridley (who was dying with him), we shall this day light such a candle by God’s grace in England, as I trust, shall never be put out!”

Thank God that the candles lighted by dedicated reformers have not only kept burning all these years, but they have grown into mighty torches that turn all the brighter the more they are born and shaken by continuing generations!

Lastly, this kind of thinking is reflected in some pre-Revolutionary philosophy and literature, which shows that it penetrated circles beyond the church itself.

The pen of John Locke is generally credited for having ignited three revolutions — the French, the Cromwellian in England, and the American. This is because of the philosophical base he gave for questioning of the old doctrine of divine right of kings, teaching as he did that the power to rule really comes from God and resides with the circumstances, making it easier to muster a nation against injustices contrived against it. He spoke of moral law as few have, and his reference to inalienable rights as life, property, and the pursuit of happiness inspired our own Constitution.

In his Letter Concerning Toleration (1689), he revealed his conviction that the simple faith of primitive Christianity, and that alone, should be the basis of communion between believers, even though he belonged to the Church of England.

Since men are so solicitous about the true church. I would only ask them here, by the way, if it be not more agreeable to the Church of Christ to make the conditions of her communion consist in such things and such things only, as the Holy Spirit has in the Holy Scriptures declared, in express words, to be necessary to salvation?

This is one source for Alexander Campbell’s constant plea that nothing should be made the basis of union that God has not made a basis for salvation. Campbell greatly admired Locke, referring to him now and again as “the Christian philosopher.” That Locke has had his role in our own Restoration heritage is evident in the fact that the pioneer preachers carried in their saddlebags a copy of his Essay Concerning Human Understanding along with a Bible and a hymnal. Locke contended that “the first planting of Christianity in the world gives no countenance to the exclusive claim of any national church to determine doctrine, ritual and worship for all,” which may be as relevant today as it was in his day, written as it was in defense of non-conformity.

A rather unexpected advocate of the primitive faith was Daniel Defoe, author of Robinson Crusoe. He led an eventful life, not only as novelist and journalist, but also as a spy for the British government. Coming from a family of Dissenters, he published in 1702 a satirical essay, poking fun at the established church for its bigotry. By this time persecution was less severe in England, so for this he was only pilloried. The public applauded his stand and brought gifts to him while in the stocks. He must have had a sense of humor, for he then wrote verses on Hymn to the Pillory! He was among the first in history to issue a periodical, in which he advocated social and religious reforms.

It was in Crusoe that he states his case for primitive Christianity. Finding this savage on the island, whom he names Friday, Crusoe proceeds to teach him the Christian faith from the Bible he rescued from the wrecked ship. The scriptures and the scriptures alone become the source of religious knowledge both for him and Friday. Finally Crusoe acknowledges that Friday has become a Christian, even a better one than himself. “We had here the word of God to read, and no farther off from his Spirit to instruct, than if we had been in England.” He goes on to applaud the simplicity of the plan of salvation, so clearly set forth in the scriptures. He testifies that the truth led him to repentance, and Friday as well — all this without any teacher except the word itself.

Crusoe then says: “The same instruction sufficiently served to the enlightening of this savage creature, and bringing him to be such a Christian as I have known few equal to him in my life,” and he goes on to refer to the Bible as “the sure guide to heaven.” Referring to all the disputes and contentions in religion over the niceties of doctrine, he could not see that he and Friday needed these at all. Even if they had the greatest knowledge in the world on all the disputed points of religion, he could not see that they would have been of any value.

DeFoe quite obviously was speaking for no orthodox opinion, but only as a free man. All these testimonials indicate that any effort toward reform point in one way or another to the primitive faith and the sufficiency of the scriptures. And so we have seen that long before the American Revolution, which was itself a half century before the Stone-Campbell effort, there were constant rumblings of reform both within and without the established churches. In all cases its effectiveness depended on the degree to which it reached the grassroots. Already it is evident that while many clergymen did indeed become reformers, the broader influences were imposed by the rank and file who were less dependent on the church. That restoration movements, which means the same as reformation movements, have for the most part been “lay movements” will become more evident as we proceed with our study. —the Editor