J. D. Douglas, Light in the North: The Story of the Scottish Covenanters
By Shane Walker
The Paternoster Press, 1964, pgs. 220
Summary: A brief overview and assessment of the history and theology of the Scottish Covenanters by J. D. Douglas (1923-2003), a Scotchman and former editor of “Christianity Today” under Carl F. H. Henry.
Douglas argues that the Presbyterians in Scotland, when faced with the absolutism of the political theory of divine right of the house of Stuart (James VI, Charles I, Charles II, James VII), adopted “the Divine Right of Presbytery” (60). Divine right for both kings and churches—Rome or the Scottish Presbyter—establishes an earthly authority as a little god. As James VI wrote to his son, that God had made Charles I, “a little God to sit on his throne, and rule over other men” (17). This god cannot be disobeyed in its realm of authority.
The house of Stuart held to an Erastian policy that the king was the absolute head of the state and the church. And they were wont to require their subjects take oaths like the Test Act of 1661:
I do affirm and swear, by this my solemn oath, that the king’s majesty is the only supreme governor of this realm, over all persons, and in all causes, as well as ecclesiastical as civil. . . .and do promise, that from henceforth I shall bear faith and true allegiance to the king’s majesty, his heirs and lawful successors; and, to my power, shall assist and defend all rights, jurisdictions, prerogatives, privileges, preeminenceis, and authorities belonging to the king’s majesty, his heirs and lawful successors. . . [nor will I in] any other manner of way whatsoever, to endeavor any change or alteration in the government, either in church or state, as it is now established by the laws of this kingdom (209).
The Presbyterians responded in kind requiring the kings and individual citizens to take similar oaths for their loyalty to the Presbyter in ecclesiastical affairs. Below is Charles’ promise of 1651:
I, Charles, King of Great Britain, etc., do assert and declare, by my solemn Oath, in the Presence of Almighty God, the Searcher of Hearts, my Allowance and Approbation of the National Covenant, and of the Solemn League and Covenant, above written, and faithfully oblige myself to prosecute the Ends thereof in my Station and Calling; and that I for Myself and Successors shall consent and agree to all Acts of Parliament enjoining the National Covenant and Solemn League and Covenant, and fully establishing Presbyterial Government. . . . (65).
These oaths and covenants on all parties were thought universally binding. The Scots martyr James Guthrie (1612 c.-1661), tells us: “These sacred and solemn public oaths of God, I believe can be loosed or dispensed with by no person or party, or power, upon earth, but are still binding upon these kingdoms and will be for ever hereafter” (188).
The divine right of the presbyter combined with the binding oath then led to a particular hermeneutic of Scripture: Scotland and her kirk were now an Israel. (The theory seems to be that each nation was its own church/Israel.) And the pastors and preachers were allowed the power and language of the Old Testament prophets, while the perceived enemies of the kirk were to be meted the same punishment as the enemies of Israel in the Old Testament.
To be assiduously fair, the Presbyterians attempted to be loyal to their kings when the king spoke within the realm of his authority and legally. But the “acknowledgement of the king’s supremacy over the Church meant transferring a prerogative from the Crown of Christ to the crown of Charles II” (103).
They also held through Knox’s teaching and the English common law tradition that the kings’ powers were limited by national Parliaments. Further, “that while a people can subsist without a king, no king can exist without a people—thus the people are superior to their king” (51).
At the same time, they expected the king, having agreed to the covenants, to enforce the church discipline decisions of the kirk. Something “outrageous ecclesiastically. . .is sinful civilly” (56). “False teachers . . . may justly be put to death” (Ibid.)
The whole theory “strikes an unreal note, built as it is upon the assumption that the magistrate is himself a God-fearing man, that he, as it were, knows the rules, and has a due awareness of what is involved in being God’s vicegerent” (57). And the absolutism in calling human covenants Jesus’ covenants is both unbiblical and arrogant. As an exasperated Cromwell once said in response to “the unbending intellectual pride of the ministers. . . ‘in the bowels of Christ, think it possible that you might be mistaken.’” (76).
Further, when the king can accurately be described as, “A secularist, [who] shook off Presbyterianism as a viper, utilized Episcopacy as the as the readiest political tool, and finally put on Popery as a comfortable shroud to die in” (156), combining the Church and state was a vain hope.
The two divine rights could obviously not coexist, and so the house of Stuart and the English and Scotch Presbyterians spent a century killing each other. The grossest abuses were found with the kings. But Christian martyrs were found on both sides.
Benefits/Detriments:
When two godly men like Archbishop Robert Leighton (1613-1684) and Samuel Rutherford (1616-1661) at least tacitly agree that the other should be executed for his political ideals and understanding of church order, there must be a horrifying breakdown in their understanding of the Bible. And there is an element of this that can be traced to their mutual Calvinism.
J. D. Douglas writes, “The horrible scruples felt by one section of the Covenanters against granting any quarter in the hour of victory may be traced to the mental habit of dividing mankind into servants of God and servants of the devil” (193). And “. . .The Covenanters’ supreme conviction that their cause was right was illogically carried over to mean also that the course which they advocated was likewise right and justifiable” (190). And finally, at least in Scotland, “Arminians were the sole remnant who knew what liberty meant” (192).
We need to agree with above conclusions in part: the Arminian view of epistemology was based on human free will; and thus, religious convictions and conclusions could not be viewed as God’s revealed judgments. The Arminian pride of self was more fundamental but less politically dangerous in the days of the house of Stuart. Though the kings were as happy to slaughter Congregationalists, Quakers, Anabaptists, and Baptists and Presbyterians.
The Calvinists’ knowledge of salvation was based on the election of God, this supported the belief among the Presbyterians that those who were not in their party were necessarily the enemies of God. As they extrapolated this false conclusion through their system and behavior, it led to horrifying intolerance, false-expectations, and martyrdom.
The issue is not merely thinking of people as the enemies of God, but an over confidence and pride in the understanding. The responsibility here rests very much of the shoulders of the theologians and not the “simple honest souls, concerned only for the peace that passes all understanding” (119).
Yet we must notice that the concern is not merely of the extrapolation of confidence in their understanding. The Bible does not provide the New Testament church a normative description of her relationship to the state. Prudential models are available in the Old Testament, but their application is dependent on the church recognizing herself as “those who are elect exiles of the Dispersion” (1 Pet. 1:1).
The moment that the church becomes the Church of Scotland or the universal church rather than “elect exiles of the Dispersion” scattered as local congregations, the lack of biblical warrant leads to greater and greater outrages. Milton’s famous words hold true, “New Presbyter is but Old Priest writ large” (57).
Currently in the United State, Presbyterianism is national in ideal only and is essentially a form of church government for a series of lesser and greater collections of churches. The Presbyterianism of the Covenanters is a secular as well as churchly theory. A handful of the modern wee kirks hold to the theory.
In many ways, Light in the North is a vindication of the Baptist principles of congregationalism and the separation of church and state. Hooker’s assertion in The Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity (cf. review) that one can either be a congregationalist or an Episcopalian remains true at least in theory.
Having said such, let us remember not the sin of the Covenanters nor their hubris, but their love for God as seen in the “Seraphic Song on the Scaffold”:
And now I leave off to speak any more to creatures, and begin my intercourse with God, which shall never be broken off. Farewell father and mother, friends and relations—farewell the world and all delights—farewell meat and drink—farewell, sun, moon, and stars—welcome God and Father—welcome sweet Jesus Christ, the Mediator of the new covenant—welcome blessed spirit of grace, and God of all consolation—welcome glory—welcome eternal life, and welcome death (115).