Particular Baptists: Some Theological Observations in 6 Parts: Part I: Many people talk about the early Particular Baptists, but very few seem to have spent much time actually reading them. Most discussions begin with the 1689 Confession and then work backward, viewing the men of 1644/46 through a later Reformed Baptist lens. Yet if you sit down and read Spilsbury, Richardson, Denne, Collier, and others in their own words, a somewhat different perspective emerges. What stands out is not merely a strong doctrine of sovereignty, although that is certainly prominent throughout their writings. What stands out is the constant emphasis on grace, Christ, and the finished work of redemption. Again and again, these men seem preoccupied with what God has done for sinners rather than with what sinners must do to prove something about themselves. Their writings often possess a warmth and gospel-centeredness that can feel surprisingly different from much modern theological discussion.
Another interesting observation is how little attention some of these men receive today. Entire conferences, ministries, and publishing houses are devoted to later Reformed Baptist history, yet many of the earliest Particular Baptist writers remain largely unknown. Samuel Richardson is a fascinating example. While names like Keach and Gill are frequently discussed, Richardson's influence often seems understated. Yet when one reads his works, it becomes difficult to dismiss him as a minor figure. His repeated emphasis on free grace, justification, and the believer's standing in Christ appears to have left a significant mark on the theological character of the early movement. Whatever distinctions existed among them, they often seem united by a common concern that rises to the surface again and again throughout their writings. Again and again, they seem less interested in building theological frameworks than in declaring the glory of Christ in the salvation of sinners. Their discussions of election, redemption, justification, and faith frequently lead back to the certainty of salvation resting in Christ rather than in the fluctuating experiences of believers.
Whether one agrees with all of their conclusions or not, it is worth asking whether something of that emphasis has been lost. The early Particular Baptists certainly cared deeply about truth, doctrine, and godly living, but they often seem to speak with a greater sense of wonder concerning grace itself. Again and again, their attention is drawn not to the believer's progress, but to the sufficiency of Christ and the completeness of His work on behalf of His people. Perhaps another way of saying it is this: their theology appears to serve their proclamation of Christ, rather than Christ serving their theological system. They certainly believed doctrine mattered, and they were willing to defend it vigorously. Yet their discussions of election, justification, redemption, and faith often seem designed to magnify the Savior rather than merely refine a theological framework. The system was not the destination. Christ was.
That may be one reason why some modern discussions leave me unsatisfied. Much of the debate centers on how these men should be classified, while comparatively little attention is given to the substance of what they actually wrote. And if one does read them, one may discover that their voice sounds a little different than expected. Not less sovereign, but perhaps more gracious. Not less doctrinal, but perhaps more occupied with Christ. Not less serious about truth, but often more eager to proclaim what God has accomplished for sinners than what sinners must accomplish for God.
Part II: After posting a few thoughts on the early Particular Baptists, I decided to listen to a sermon on Baptist history to see how others describe them. The speaker offered the following summary: > “The history of Baptists is the most controversial. What we do know is the name Baptist was not used by churches as a self-description until the 1600s. What is considered by many as the first labeled Baptist church is associated with John Smyth. He had been an Anglican in England but moved to Holland and was influenced by Anabaptist beliefs. Baptists gained their foothold in England with the Calvinistic type, with the Particular Baptists arising separately through the influence of Henry Jacob.” That was essentially the extent of the discussion regarding the Particular Baptists.
Now, the statement itself is not necessarily wrong. In fact, much of it reflects the standard historical narrative. The difficulty is that summaries of this sort can hide an enormous amount of complexity behind just a few sentences. For example, most historians trace the Particular Baptists through the Jacob - Lathrop - Jessey congregation. Fair enough. But once that narrative becomes accepted, it often seems that people stop asking questions.
Questions such as: How much continuity actually existed between the Jacob church and the later Particular Baptists? At what point did the London Particular Baptists begin to view themselves as a distinct and separate group? How much of their theology was inherited from earlier movements? To what extent were they arriving at their conclusions through their own reading of Scripture? What role did men like Spilsbury play? How much did the theological controversies of the 1640s shape their identity? Those strike me as important questions, yet I rarely hear them discussed. Most modern accounts seem primarily interested in origins and genealogies. Who came from whom? Which church separated from which church?
Those are legitimate historical questions, and they certainly have their place. Yet I find myself repeatedly drawn to a different question altogether. Why do the writings of these men sound the way they do? That is not primarily a genealogical question. It is a theological one. For example, suppose all we possessed were a handful of book titles from this period: Seven Arguments to Prove that in Order of Working God doth Justify His Elect before they do Actually Believe. Denne, 1643. The Exaltation of Christ. Collier, 1646. The Peculiar Interest of the Elect in Christ. Spilsbury, 1646. Justification by Christ Alone. Richardson, 1647. Gospel Glory. Drapes, 1649. Even without opening the books, certain themes immediately begin to emerge.
These men are not writing works entitled: The Duties of Believers. The Marks of True Conversion. The Evidence of Saving Faith. Rules for Self-Examination. The Christian's Guide to Sanctification. Ten Steps to Assurance. How to Examine Yourself, &c., Instead, their attention appears overwhelmingly fixed upon Christ, justification, election, grace, redemption, and the glory of God in salvation. That is one of the things I have always appreciated about many of these early writers. Whatever differences may have existed among them, there is often a refreshing determination to make Christ the subject rather than man.
In fact, if someone knew nothing about seventeenth-century Particular Baptists and simply read those titles, they would probably conclude that these men were obsessed with one thing: the sufficiency of Christ in the salvation of sinners. Perhaps that is part of the reason they continue to resonate with some of us today. They seem to possess a certain gospel simplicity. Their writings often feel less occupied with managing the Christian life and more occupied with proclaiming what Christ has already accomplished for sinners through His life, death, and resurrection.
Now, to be fair, they certainly wrote about practical godliness elsewhere. This is not to suggest that these subjects were absent from their theology. Yet when these men picked up their pens during the years surrounding the 1646 London Confession, they seemed deeply occupied with declaring what God had accomplished in Christ for His people. And while this observation does not prove anything about their historical origins, it does reveal something of their theological atmosphere. And that is where my interest increasingly lies.
Many historians understandably focus on tracing family trees, and those discussions can be helpful. I simply find myself asking different questions. What were these men actually preaching? What themes dominated their writings? Why did so many of them return repeatedly to grace, justification, redemption, and the finished work of Christ? Perhaps that is why men like Richardson continue to capture my interest. The historical questions have their place, but these writers repeatedly draw my attention back to the substance of the message itself. Once you begin reading them, you are no longer merely tracing Baptist origins. You are confronted with men relentlessly speaking about Christ, grace, justification, and the finished work of redemption.
Part III: In the previous posts, I suggested that many discussions of the early Particular Baptists tend to focus on origins, influences, and historical development. Those are interesting questions. Yet there is another observation that has increasingly captured my attention, and it leads in a somewhat different direction. Consider the dates: Denne's Seven Arguments appeared in 1643. Collier's The Exaltation of Christ in 1646. Spilsbury's The Peculiar Interest of the Elect in Christ in 1646. Richardson's Justification by Christ Alone in 1647. Drapes' Gospel Glory in 1649, and that is not all. These books did not appear gradually over the course of a century. They appeared within a remarkably brief period of time, roughly six years. That fact becomes even more interesting when we consider the historical setting in which they were written. This is a period that has fascinated me for many years. While I make no claim to being an expert, I have spent a great deal of time reading about these events, studying the people involved, and visiting some of the places where this history unfolded.
And what a period it was. We are not talking about a handful of theologians gathering together to compare notes on their favorite Bible passages. These writings emerged during the years of the English Civil War - 1642-1651 - and the political and religious upheaval that followed. The authority of the monarchy had been challenged. Long-standing assumptions about government, religion, and authority were being questioned on every side. England was changing rapidly, and these writers were living in the middle of it.
It was also during these years that questions of religious liberty and toleration moved increasingly to the forefront. For centuries, England had largely assumed that church and state would work together to maintain religious uniformity. Those who challenged accepted religious beliefs or practices were often regarded as a danger not only to the church, but to the social and political order itself. The Civil War changed much of that. The old order was being unsettled, and religion was no exception. It was during this period that numerous religious groups emerged or became far more visible, including Baptists, Independents, Seekers, Fifth Monarchists, and later the Quakers. For a brief moment in English history, men who might previously have kept their opinions to themselves suddenly found opportunities to preach, write, publish, and defend what they believed.
The liberty was neither complete nor equally applied, but it was enough to create something pretty remarkable. New ideas circulated rapidly, old assumptions were challenged, and a flood of religious books, pamphlets, and debates appeared. It was in the midst of this environment that many of the writings we have been discussing first appeared. When viewed against this historical backdrop, the titles mentioned earlier become even more interesting.
These were not books appearing in a vacuum. They emerged in the midst of civil war, political uncertainty, religious controversy, and growing debates about liberty and conscience. Yet despite the turmoil surrounding them, these writers repeatedly directed their attention to Christ, grace, justification, redemption, and the glory of God in salvation.
Another observation that continues to intrigue me concerns Samuel Richardson himself. The same man who wrote Justification by Christ Alone also spent considerable time defending liberty of conscience. To modern readers those may seem like unrelated subjects, but I am not entirely sure they were unrelated in his mind. If salvation is of the Lord, if faith cannot be forced into existence, and if a sinner's acceptance before God rests entirely upon Christ, then one begins to wonder what role remains for the magistrate in matters of belief. Richardson appears to have wrestled with that question. Whether or not one agrees with all of his conclusions, it is difficult not to notice how closely his defense of free grace and his concern for liberty of conscience seem to stand alongside one another.
This was especially significant for the Baptists. Men such as Spilsbury, Kiffen, Hobson, Knollys, and Richardson - five of the sixteen men whose names appear on the 1646 London Confession - were not simply debating theological fine points. They belonged to religious communities that often stood outside the established order. Questions of conscience, liberty, and the relationship between civil authority and religious belief were not theoretical matters. They were part of daily life. The freedom to preach, publish, gather for worship, and follow one's convictions was never assumed. It was a liberty that had to be argued for, defended, and in some cases suffered for.
It is easy for us to overlook how remarkable this was. Many of these men held strong theological convictions. They believed certain doctrines were true and others mistaken. Yet they often distinguished between persuading others through Scripture and compelling agreement through civil authority. That distinction would prove significant not only for the Baptists of their own day, but for the development of later Baptist thought as well.
The more I study these men, the more intrigued I become. Not because I imagine them to have been perfect, and not because I agree with everything they wrote, but because they seem to keep drawing my attention back to the same things: Christ, grace, justification, redemption, and the gospel itself. Perhaps that is why, nearly four hundred years later, some of us are still reading them.
Part IV: When one compares the 1646 London Confession and the writings surrounding it with the later Particular Baptist tradition associated with Keach, Collins, Gill, Brine, and ultimately the 1689 Confession, continuity is easy to see. The more difficult question is whether that continuity has sometimes caused us to overlook meaningful differences in emphasis that emerged as the movement developed over the next century. A comparison of the confessions and the writers surrounding them suggests that these differences were not confined to secondary matters. They can sometimes be observed in the very language used to describe God Himself.
Perhaps one of the most interesting examples is found in the way the earliest Particular Baptists spoke about the relationship between the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Their language often differs from that later adopted in the Westminster and 1689 traditions. While affirming the full deity of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, several of the earliest Particular Baptist writers appeared reluctant to employ certain speculative formulations that had become common in Protestant scholastic theology, particularly language concerning eternal generation and eternal procession. Their concern was not with denying the deity of Christ or the Holy Spirit, but with resisting explanatory formulations that they believed went beyond what Scripture had revealed.
A second example may be seen in the way these writers approached the relationship between Law and Gospel, the covenants, and the believer's standing before God. One repeatedly encounters a strong emphasis upon the finished work of Christ and the believer's complete acceptance in Him. The Law and the Gospel are often treated as distinct in both their nature and purpose, with the Gospel directing attention away from the sinner's performance and back to Christ's accomplishment on behalf of His people.
These are not minor matters tucked away in obscure theological debates. They stand near the center of how these men understood Christ, redemption, and the believer's relationship to God. Whether one agrees with every conclusion of the early writers or not, it is difficult to ignore how differently these subjects are often handled between the 1644/46 generation and the later 1677/1689 tradition. On both subjects the earlier writers often spoke in ways that sound surprisingly foreign to modern Reformed Baptist ears. In fact, some positions now regarded as standard within many Baptist circles may have been viewed quite differently by men such as Spilsbury and Richardson.
And so the historical question remains: are these merely different ways of expressing the same theology, or do they represent a genuine shift within Particular Baptist thought? I am not entirely convinced that the answer is as obvious as it is often assumed to be. Increasingly, I find myself wondering whether we have underestimated the distinctiveness of the earliest generation. The more familiar I become with their writings, the more I question whether the earliest Particular Baptists occupied a somewhat distinct theological space that later generations gradually absorbed into broader Reformed categories.
Whatever conclusion one reaches, the movement clearly did not remain static. By the time we arrive at Keach, Collins, Gill, and Brine, the theological atmosphere feels noticeably different from that reflected in the writings surrounding the 1644 and 1646 Confessions. The language, categories, and concerns increasingly resemble those found within the Westminster and Puritan traditions. This does not mean that the earlier and later writers had nothing in common. They clearly shared many important convictions. Nevertheless, it raises the possibility that some of the distinctive emphases of the first generation gradually receded into the background as the movement became more closely integrated with the broader Reformed world.
The issue is not whether later Baptist theology became influential. It clearly did. By the eighteenth century, the writings of men such as John Gill would exert enormous influence upon Baptist theology, shaping the way generations of readers understood Scripture, doctrine, and the Baptist tradition itself. That influence remains visible today. Because of it, many readers instinctively approach the earliest Particular Baptists with certain expectations already in place. The question is whether those expectations sometimes prevent us from hearing the earlier writers on their own terms.
Whether one ultimately concludes that the differences are substantial or relatively minor, the question remains the same. Have we listened carefully enough to hear their own voice? History is often interpreted through the lens of those who prove most influential, and few Baptist theologians have been more influential than John Gill. Yet the fact that a later theologian becomes influential does not automatically mean that earlier writers shared all of his assumptions, categories, or emphases. At the very least, these early writers deserve to be read on their own terms before their theology is explained by later generations.
Part V: As I have worked through these writings over the years, one observation continues to grow stronger. These men seem remarkably occupied with Christ. Not merely Christ as an example to follow, nor simply as a helper along the way, but Christ as the believer's righteousness, redemption, acceptance, peace, and standing before God. Whether reading Richardson, Spilsbury, Collier, or others from this period, I find the same themes appearing repeatedly. Justification by Christ. Acceptance in Christ. Redemption accomplished by Christ. The believer's standing in Christ. Again and again, the focus returns to what Christ has done rather than to what the believer must do. Their attention seems fixed upon the finished work of the Savior.
That observation becomes particularly interesting when we begin examining how these men spoke about faith, justification, and sanctification. They certainly addressed obedience, good works, and the believer's walk before God. Yet even when discussing these practical matters, they often began with Christ's accomplishment and only then considered its effects in the believer. One example appears in the language of justification itself. Modern discussions often speak of justification by faith, and rightly so, for the Scriptures use that language repeatedly. Yet many of these early writers seem equally concerned to emphasize something else: that faith is not the ground of a sinner's acceptance before God. Christ is. Again and again, they direct attention away from the act of believing and back to the Savior who is believed upon. Their concern is not merely that sinners believe, but that they understand who it is that saves them. The spotlight continually returns to Christ.
Today this distinction has become so uncommon that many people who identify themselves as Christians have never even encountered it. In most theological circles it has largely disappeared, surviving only among a few groups often regarded as unusual or extreme. Yet when one reads the earliest Particular Baptists, one discovers that they did not treat it as a secondary issue. They regarded it as a vital safeguard of the believer's standing in Christ and of the freeness of the gospel.
The 1646 Confession itself reflects this emphasis. When speaking of justification, it describes believers as being justified from all their sins by the blood of Christ and acquitted through the satisfaction He made by His death. Faith is certainly present in the discussion, but Christ remains at the center of it. That may sound like a small distinction, yet these writers appear to have regarded it as an important safeguard of the gospel itself. Faith was never treated as the thing that made salvation effective. Faith receives. Faith rests. Faith looks away from itself. Christ saves. These early writers feared anything that might subtly shift the sinner's attention away from the sufficiency of Christ and back upon himself.
It may well be that modern readers have become so accustomed to certain ways of speaking about faith that we no longer notice the distinction these men were making. Yet it appears repeatedly throughout their writings. Faith is precious, not because it contributes something to salvation, but because it lays hold of Christ. Its value rests entirely in its object. These men feared anything that might encourage sinners to look inward when they ought to be looking outward to Christ. Perhaps that concern deserves more consideration than it often receives today. Whether one ultimately agrees with every conclusion they reached or not, it is difficult to miss the object that continually occupies their attention. The question is whether it occupies ours.
Conclusion Part VI: As this brief series draws to a close, it may be worth mentioning a few additional areas where the earliest Particular Baptists often sound different from many who identify today as Reformed Baptists. None of these observations prove an entirely different theology. Yet taken together, these observations suggest that the earliest Particular Baptists were often asking somewhat different questions, emphasizing somewhat different truths, and speaking with a somewhat different voice than many of those who followed them.
One example appears in the language of sanctification. The 1646 Confession begins by describing believers as “a holy and sanctified people” and speaks of sanctification as “a spiritual grace of the New Covenant.” What immediately strikes me is where the emphasis falls. The discussion begins, not with the believer's progress in grace, but with the believer's standing in Christ. Sanctification is presented first as something flowing from God's grace in Christ rather than as a process of spiritual advancement.
This does not mean the early Particular Baptists denied growth in grace, obedience, or the believer's walk before God. They clearly addressed such subjects elsewhere. Yet even here one encounters the same pattern we have observed repeatedly throughout these writings. The emphasis begins with what Christ has accomplished and what God has bestowed before turning to its effects in the believer.
Another example appears in the doctrine of the Sabbath. The Second London Confession follows Westminster in identifying the Lord's Day as the Christian Sabbath and applying Sabbath language to the first day of the week. By contrast, the earlier Particular Baptist confessions are notably silent on this subject. Whatever one's conclusions regarding the Sabbath, it is difficult to ignore the difference.
This silence may not prove disagreement, but it does raise an interesting question. If the Christian Sabbath occupied the central place it later assumed in many Reformed circles, why does it receive so little attention in the earliest confessions and writings? At the very least, it suggests that the concerns occupying the first generation were not always identical to those that would occupy later generations.
A similar observation may be made regarding the identity of Antichrist. The Westminster and Second London Confessions famously identify the Pope as “that Antichrist” spoken of in Scripture. Such language reflected a widespread Protestant conviction during the seventeenth century. Yet this emphasis is absent from the earliest Particular Baptist confessions. Once again, the difference is not merely what is stated, but what is not stated.
Whether one agrees with the older Protestant interpretation or not, the omission is noteworthy. It reminds us that the earliest Particular Baptists were often more concerned with Christ, redemption, grace, faith, and the believer's standing before God than with many of the questions that would later become points of debate among their successors.
Looking back over these articles, my purpose has not been to argue that the earliest Particular Baptists were right in every conclusion they reached, nor that later Baptists were wrong in every development that followed. History is rarely that simple. My purpose has been much narrower. I simply want to encourage readers to return to the earliest sources and listen carefully to what these men were actually saying.
The very last paragraph of the 1646 Confession may tell us as much about these men as any doctrinal article: “Also we confess that we know but in part, and that we are ignorant of many things which we desire and seek to know: and if any do show us from the Word of God that we see not, we shall have cause to be thankful to God and them. There is something remarkably refreshing about that admission.
These men held strong convictions, yet freely acknowledged that there remained much they did not understand. They were willing to defend what they believed Scripture taught, but they also remained willing to learn. Perhaps that spirit explains why their writings continue to be so refreshing nearly four centuries later. The more I read these early Particular Baptists, the more convinced I become that their greatest concern was not defending a theological system, but directing attention to Christ. Four centuries later, that still seems like a worthwhile pursuit. MPJ