Chapter XCIII: Antinomians Deny the Law as an Instrument of Sanctification

Chapter XCIII: Antinomians Deny the Law as an Instrument of Sanctification

Chapter LXXI

The Justified Do Not Obey God by Necessity of Nature, as Antinomians Claim

Antinomians argue that justified believers cannot sin, and that they obey God as naturally and necessarily as fire burns or the sun gives light. The New England Libertines build this idea on several false foundations:

But:

Chapter LXXII

Glorifying God Through Sanctification Is Essential

Antinomians speak of two kinds of glorifying God. One, they say, is primary, internal, and passive—when God glorifies Himself in us through faith, by justifying us. This, they claim, is the true glorifying of God, as in Romans 4:20, where Abraham "gave glory to God" by believing. Unbelief, they say, dishonors God by making Him a liar. The second kind, they say, is more external and fleshly—glorifying God before men through good works and sanctification. This, they claim, is more about man's activity, and thus inclined to glorify man, not God.

Response:

While our best works are tainted with sin and cannot justify us, that does not mean they are false or hypocritical. Antinomians, however, claim that even Spirit-wrought obedience is, in substance, nothing more than refined hypocrisy. Yet they also say these same "hypocritical" works are not sins in the justified, because the justified have no sin at all—no more than Christ Himself. Thus they invent what can only be called "holy sin" or "innocent corruption"—a contradiction of Scripture and reason.

Chapter LXXIII

Sanctification, as well as Justification, Makes a Saint

Antinomians claim that while sanctification may declare someone a saint in the eyes of men, it is justification alone that makes them a saint before God.

To this we reply:

Therefore, when Scripture pronounces saints “blessed” for walking uprightly, delighting in God’s commands, and doing what Christ requires, this is not merely for show before men. It reflects God’s own approval, grounded in Christ, but including their real obedience. The Lord blesses such holy walking with eternal life—not as its cause, but as its necessary companion and evidence.

Chapter LXXIV

The Harmony Between Old Libertines, Familists, and Antinomians

We despise the Antinomian way all the more because it aligns so closely with the errors of the old Libertines in Calvin’s day, and with the teachings of David Georgius, Henry Nicholas, and the later Familists. Their doctrines of sin, sorrow, repentance, and sanctification are alarmingly similar.

Parallel 1. The Libertines in Calvin’s time taught that the original state of innocence meant being like children, knowing neither good nor evil. They said Adam’s first sin was gaining the knowledge of good and evil, and that regeneration is being stripped of any awareness or sense of sin or righteousness. So, when someone was burdened with guilt over sin, they would mockingly ask, “O Adam, do you still know something? Has the old Adam not yet been crucified?” If a person feared God’s judgment, they would say, “Do you still taste the old apple? Beware, or it may choke you.” If someone mourned over sin, they claimed sin still reigned in that person.

So it is with the Familists of New England. They taught that in conversion, the soul’s faculties are destroyed, and the Holy Spirit replaces them. One should take no notice of sin or repentance. Frequent or lengthy prayer, or concern over neglecting duties, they say, are signs of someone under the covenant of works—that is, someone still ruled by the old Adam. One even said, “I know I belong to Christ, not because I crucify sin, but because I don’t.”

Modern Antinomians say the same. To feel sorrow for sin, as David did in confessing his guilt, is, according to Mr. Town, a sign of weak faith—that is, a work of the flesh. He says, “I don’t look at myself, my sinful actions, or conscience. I only look to heaven, where there is no record of my sin since the blood was shed. My peace rests in forgetting myself and living in Christ, who is in heaven.”

This “not considering oneself” means not knowing, mourning, fearing, or humbling oneself for sin at all. But Protestant divines have always taught that though God forgives sin, the forgiven sinner never forgets it. He still mourns, fears, and humbles himself. Antinomians call such responses fleshly, works of unbelief, and marks of the old Adam—just as the Libertines did. Eaton says that Paul’s awareness of indwelling sin in Romans 7 was simply an act of the flesh, not of faith. Saltmarsh adds that if a believer lives by sense, reason, and experience (that is, feeling the presence of sin), then he lives under sin’s power and under the Law. But if he lives by faith, he lives above condemnation and unrighteousness.

So, according to Antinomians, to feel, fear, or mourn over sin is to live contrary to faith. Regeneration, then, must mean the end of conscience, knowledge, sorrow, and any sense of guilt. It is the death of repentance. That is why men like Mr. Archer, Dr. Crisp, and Saltmarsh preach against sorrow for sin and call it unbelief, a denial of grace, a hindrance to faith, and a discouragement to true religion.

The Antinomians, like the old Libertines and Familists, deny the value of any awareness of sanctification or spiritual growth in ourselves. The Familists claimed that seeking comfort from grace experienced within is no true way of grace. They called it “poverty of spirit” to recognize a lack of grace. In line with this, Saltmarsh, Den, Crisp, Eaton, Town, and others reject all assurance or joy that comes from sanctification or godly living. They say it is seeking righteousness in oneself, and therefore, a work of the flesh. To them, it is wrong even to discern that we are God’s children because we walk in love and in the Spirit.

Parallel II. Libertine Denial of Sin and Conscience

The Libertines went further, claiming that sin itself is only a matter of opinion—that guilt, conscience, remorse, and fear of judgment are all illusions. They said Christ’s work was to destroy this opinion of sin. Once that sense is gone, they argued, one becomes a new creature. They denied the existence of spiritual enemies like the devil, sin, or the world. David Georgius went so far as to say that the spiritual life consists in committing adultery without any shame or sense of guilt. To him, shame was a result of Adam’s fall, and true faith was the freedom to sin without remorse. Public confession of these sins, again and again, was meant to crush pride and magnify grace. Only after such self-denial—being dead to all sense of ownership of possessions, spouses, or even marriage—could one enter his so-called "kingdom," living above all moral or natural laws.

Antinomian Denial of Sin in the Justified

Antinomians closely resemble the old Libertines in their teaching. What the Libertines called "opinion" or "discernment" of sin, Antinomians like Saltmarsh, Eaton, Den, and Town simply call "sense"—or even "unbelief." They claim that sin, in the justified, is not sin before God, only before men and in outward appearance. According to Saltmarsh, acts like adultery and murder, when committed by the justified, are only seeming sins—they are considered sins in human judgment, but not before God or in the sight of faith.

To them, living by faith means denying the reality of sin in the believer. Town explicitly states that such acts, to faith, are nothing at all—mere illusions; while to sense and reason, they appear as sins. Saltmarsh and Eaton likewise argue that by faith, we see no sin in ourselves, because God sees none. As Den puts it, these are “sins in the conversation,” but not in the conscience or before God.

This all stems from the belief that the justified are under no Law, and therefore cannot sin. So, if a believer thinks his adultery is sinful, it is not faith, but unbelief—an ignorance of Christian liberty, rooted in the old Adam. In their view, faith actually teaches that adultery is no sin at all.

We agree that for the believer, sin no longer condemns him to wrath. But it is still sin—still a breach of God’s Law—not a nullity, as the Libertines and Antinomians claim. According to Saltmarsh, since the justified are under no Law, they cannot experience guilt or trouble of conscience. But this idea—that faith gives us the power to believe sin is not sin—is nothing less than what David Georgius taught: that shame for sin must be cast off entirely. In the end, such a view removes conscience itself from the justified, allowing him to sin freely and without grief.

Chapter LXXV

Libertines, Familists, and Antinomians Free the Believer from All Law and Accountability for Sin

Paral. III. The Libertines taught that believers are freed from every aspect of the Law—its commands, direction, authority, and condemnation. David Georgius and the Libertines of New England held the same view. Antinomians like Town, Saltmarsh, Crisp, and Den echo this, claiming that those in Christ are no longer under any law—not for guidance, obligation, or correction, as well as not for judgment or curse.

Paral. IV. The Libertines also taught that once a person is regenerate, they can no longer sin and are as pure as angels. Similarly, the Antinomians assert that believers are as free from Law, guilt, and hell on earth as they would be in heaven. All that remains, they say, is to believe it. Eaton even claims that whoever believes Christ took away his sin is as clean as Christ himself. To faith, they say, there is no sin. The believer’s person and works are perfect before God, free from all imperfection.

Paral. V. When confronted with sin, the Libertines would respond, “It’s not I who sin, but my flesh”—what they called “my Ass.” They cited 1 John 3: “He who is born of God does not sin.” Paul does say in Romans 7 that it is not he, but sin dwelling in him that acts—but Paul’s meaning is this: as a regenerate man, he does not commit sin as his full, willing task. His renewed nature opposes it. Though he sins, it is against his will, and he grieves over it, calling himself wretched. He sins, but not as one who fully consents.

Antinomians, however, adopt the Libertines’ view. Town teaches that it is only the “old Adam,” the flesh, that sins, which is already under God’s wrath. But Paul never intended to deny that believers still sin. Scripture says plainly: “In many things we all stumble” (James 3:2), and “If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves” (1 John 1:8).

Yet Antinomians claim that believers cannot sin any more than Christ or the glorified saints in heaven. They insist that God sees no sin in them. But this is to fall into the same error as the Libertines, who viewed sins committed by the flesh as no sins at all. Antinomians likewise say that adultery, theft, or deceit in a justified person are merely “seeming sins” (Saltmarsh), or “not sins before God” (Eaton). This is nothing but a denial of real sanctification and a turning of grace into license.

Chapter LXXVI

How Libertines and Antinomians Undermine Scripture and Exalt the Spirit Above All

Paral. VI. The Libertines, as Calvin notes, were so “spiritual” in their own imagination that they dismissed the written Word of God as mere fables—unless it served their agenda. When confronted with Scripture, they denied its literal meaning, saying, “The letter kills, but the Spirit gives life.” They allegorized the Bible, turning plain teachings into mystical speculations. They claimed the literal sense of Scripture was dead, and only the Spirit gave true insight.

David Georgius taught the same, and so does Mr. Dell, who cites that same verse. Randel, a known Familist, claimed that all earthly things—seeds, rocks, nets, leaven—were sacraments of Christ and that spiritual minds could see Gospel mysteries in all of nature. He even used “Do this in remembrance of me” to support this mystical interpretation. Yet this man, despite preaching dangerous error, is still permitted to draw large crowds around London each Lord’s Day.

The Libertines in New England go further. They say the will of God revealed in Scripture is no rule for Christian living. They claim that searching the Bible is not a reliable way to find Christ. Instead, they insist that all doctrine and revelation must be tested by Christ—not by the word of Christ. They assert that the entire written Scripture teaches a covenant of works. Saltmarsh echoes this, saying that interpreting the Spirit through the written Word obscures the Gospel’s glory. He claims that obeying Scripture’s commands produces only a refined kind of hypocrisy, and that the Spirit does not work freely through such outward rules. Mr. Towne spreads much the same teaching throughout his book.

This is the very spirit of Henry Nicholas, who in a letter to two women of Warwick argued that even the apostles, walking daily with Christ and hearing the Father’s Word, did not understand the Spirit until Pentecost. He mocked those who cling to Scripture without the Spirit, accusing them of using their fleshly wisdom to teach the Bible in ways that deceive the simple. These people, he says, boldly declare, “We have the word of the Lord,” when in fact they are only sharing their own thoughts.

Thus, these teachers make a false divide between the Word of the Lord and what they call the mere witness of an unregenerate man quoting the letter of Scripture. In doing so, they reject the very Word of God, just as the prophet said in Jeremiah 8.

Henry Nicholas divides time into two eras: one in which the apostles were under the Father’s teaching—unregenerate and guided only by the letter of Scripture—and another, when they were regenerated under the teaching of the Holy Spirit. The New England Familists speak similarly, saying that the soul passes through distinct phases under the Father, the Son, and the Spirit. Saltmarsh, too, in Free Grace (p. 113), claims that the Old Testament saints saw themselves as merely not destroyed, rather than truly saved. He suggests that only now, under the full revelation of the Spirit and grace (p. 115), is redemption truly known. Den likewise says that knowledge of forgiveness—both actual and eternal—was not part of the Old Testament faith, but now forgiveness is already finished.

But we affirm that the literal meaning of Scripture is the genuine sense intended by the Holy Spirit. The Word does not have two separate meanings, nor is the letter opposed to the Spirit. While the letter may be dead to the hardened hearer without the Spirit, it is not dead in itself. Therefore, outward preaching and ordinances should not be despised any more than the Spirit should be quenched.

But true faith holds that the Spirit and the Word are never to be separated. The Spirit is the divine cause of the new birth; the Word is the seed and instrument. These Antinomians and Familists, however, set the two at odds, and in doing so, they seek to abolish the Word, sacraments, and all ordinances as mere “legal” forms—contrary to the clear teaching and practice of Scripture.

It is true, Henry Nicholas sometimes gives lip service to outward ordinances, saying in his Epistle to the Two Maidens that they are means set forth by God to direct people toward the inward righteousness of Christ in the Spirit. Yet, as Ainsworth observes, he also calls these ordinances mere "ceremonies," and advises believers not to suffer martyrdom over defending Scripture as the perfect rule of faith and life, especially against Roman Catholic doctrines and ceremonies.

Nicholas argues that no one rightly uses or handles the Scriptures except the “illuminated elders” walking in his so-called “house of love.” He warns against anyone presuming to deal with Scripture unless spiritually renewed. And even then, not in any “elemental” or outward righteousness—what he calls man’s prudential works—but in an inward righteousness that comes through being mystically united to Christ. In short, he dismisses reading, hearing, or believing Scripture as mere carnal righteousness. Salvation, he claims, comes only through inward spiritual union—what he calls being “Goded” or “Christed.”

Similarly, Mr. Town tries to grant some value to the law, acknowledging that we only learn our duty to superiors from the fifth commandment, and understand murder or adultery through the sixth and seventh. But elsewhere (p. 3), he contradicts himself, saying we are no longer under the Law in any form—not under its authority, dominion, instruction, or power. Saltmarsh goes even further, arguing we must not borrow even a single ray of light from the Law, and seems upset that the Old Testament—especially the Ten Commandments—is even printed in the Bible.

Antinomians consistently show disdain for any written rule, whether Law or Gospel. In their view, all written or spoken covenants are dead and powerless—mere "letters that kill." For them, only the Spirit’s immediate, inward operation is a true rule of life.

Paral. VII. Antinomians, Like Libertines, Disparage the Scriptures and Their Writers

Libertines went so far as to insult the apostles—calling Paul a broken vessel, John a foolish young man, Peter a denier of God, and Matthew an usurer. David Georgius said the Church was still in infancy under the Patriarchs and Prophets, growing under John the Baptist and Christ’s earthly ministry, but only now reaching spiritual maturity under his own movement.

In similar fashion, many Antinomians become “perfectists,” claiming that since they have the same Spirit as the prophets and apostles, they can write or speak Scripture themselves. The New England Libertines push this idea further, criticizing Peter as a legalist and claiming that Paul preached more free grace than Peter did. Saltmarsh asserts that all Old Testament prophets were legal preachers, and even Christ and his apostles only preached free grace in partial or limited measure. He criticizes those who preach grace, faith, repentance, and obedience as taught in the Gospels and Acts, accusing them of only preaching “halves and quarters” of the Gospel.

By contrast, Saltmarsh claims that Antinomians in England reveal more of Christ’s fullness and free grace in their sermons than Christ and the apostles did in the New Testament—or even all the prophets in the Old.

2. Saltmarsh boldly claims that Christ, the Prophets, and even the Apostles (except in the Epistles) were “Legal Preachers.” To avoid misrepresenting him, I use his own definition: Legalists are those who try to bargain with God for salvation, refuse to submit to God’s righteousness, and rely on the sparks of their own works rather than on grace. He says Legalists conceive of the covenant in a way that makes free grace seem conditional, and that they live under bondage and death, without enjoying the freedom of the heavenly inheritance. He even suggests that those under the Old Testament only knew God conditionally, and in their fasting and obedience sought to earn God’s love, which Christ had already obtained.

By this reasoning, Saltmarsh implies that the Old Testament saints—being under the Law—had no access to heaven and were never reconciled to God. But where then did their souls go after death, if not to glory? He would have us believe they earned election through fasting and penance, and that their sins were never pardoned. This slanders the Old Testament and contradicts Romans 4, which says Abraham was justified by faith. If Saltmarsh believes such things applied even to Christ and the Apostles early in their ministry, he and the Antinomians ought to reflect soberly on such claims.

Paral. VIII. The Libertines taught that Scripture is nothing but the Spirit of God, and that the literal sense—the “letter”—is not truly Scripture. They claimed that the Spirit is Christ and the Bible, and that a godly life is one led purely by the inward Spirit. So also say the Libertines of New England: There is a direct, immediate testimony of the Spirit to the soul, apart from Scripture. Therefore, prayer should not follow set times but only the Spirit’s prompting. And all teachings and revelations are to be tested not by the written Word, but by Christ dwelling within.

The Antinomians speak the same way. Saltmarsh says that the Law now exists in the Spirit, not as an outward rule for believers. Holiness and sanctification, he claims, are no longer shaped by the Law or any external commandment, but by faith’s preaching—through which the Spirit is given. This, he says, renews and sanctifies the believer, making the heart itself the Law, the very tablets of Moses written within.

Such teaching effectively denies that the Word gives rise to faith. Instead, it treats the Scriptures as mere historical instruction for the flesh. This is precisely the view of the Libertines: that the Spirit replaces Scripture, and that the believer—living by “faith”—is the Spirit itself in his actions. Town throughout his book echoes this, turning the Law into a dead letter and the Gospel into pure inward Spirit. Saltmarsh, building on the so-called free working of the Spirit of adoption, releases believers from all outward obligations—commandments, covenants, vows—as though the Word and the Spirit were in conflict rather than working together in harmony.

Chapter: LXXVII

Antinomians and Libertines: Corrupt Opinions about God and the Origin of Sin

Paral. IX. The Libertines taught that there is only one Spirit in the world, which lives, moves, and acts in all things—even replacing the soul in every creature. From this, they concluded that God is the author of both good and evil, of righteousness and sin, since He works all things and the creature does nothing. Sin, they said, is merely an opinion. Devils and angels are nothing more than inward motions or qualities of the mind.

These same views are echoed by some New England Familists, who claim that in conversion the soul's faculties are destroyed and replaced by the Holy Spirit. In their view, Christ Himself—incarnate and present—is in the believer, not merely His grace or gifts, but His very person.

Randell the Familist, along with certain Antinomians, praised Theologia Germanica, a book that claims all true good is God Himself, making no distinction between created and uncreated goodness. According to it, God becomes everything in man, and nothing has real being or goodness apart from Him. Where God acts, man is present—but only as a vessel. The true Christ, they say, exists only where God alone works, and man has no individual will or being. Those illuminated by divine love are "deified" men. Similarly, The Bright Star, another book commended by Randell, teaches that nothing exists but God and His will. Man, angels, and devils are nothing—because they are not infinite or perfectly good.

Some may hesitate to charge such beliefs on today’s Antinomians. But consider:

This leads to a dangerous conclusion: that neither Law nor Gospel is our rule of life, and that written commandments carry no binding authority. Instead, only the direct, immediate prompting of the Spirit is considered our guide. So says Saltmarsh—and with him, the whole Antinomian school.

The Law, the Spirit, and the Antinomian Denial of Responsibility

Saltmarsh says that the Law is now in the Spirit, and that holiness and sanctification are no longer shaped by outward commandments—as if, under the Old Testament, holiness came only by external law without the Spirit. This assumption is false.

You may recall Dr. Crisp’s argument: that faith is not a condition of the covenant of grace because it is God alone who believes in us. Town adds that we are mere passive recipients—God does the believing for us. Therefore, if we don’t believe, it is not our failure but God’s. According to this reasoning, if God doesn’t work faith in us, then He is the one breaking the covenant.

This leads to a dangerous conclusion: that God alone is responsible not only for our obedience, but also for our disobedience. If God alone works in us to will and to act, then when a believer commits adultery, murder, or neglects repentance or prayer, the blame must fall on God for not acting. Crisp even says that the covenant’s entire performance lies with God, and that man bears no obligation at all. If any condition fails, it must be God’s fault, since He undertook to fulfill everything.

But this argument depends on an unbiblical assumption—that we have no responsibility to believe, obey, or lay hold of the covenant. Isaiah says we are to subscribe with our hand unto the Lord (Isa. 44:5), to take hold of the covenant (Isa. 56:4), and to walk in His commandments. Antinomians deny this. They portray us as mere stones or blocks—completely passive.

Yes, God promises to give us a new heart, to put His Spirit in us, and to cause us to walk in His ways (Ezek. 36:26–27; Jer. 31:33–34). But from this, Antinomians wrongly conclude that we have no obligation to do good or avoid evil. According to Crisp, if God does not move us to obey, then He alone is at fault for our sin.

Saltmarsh similarly claims that every promise with a condition belongs to us in Christ—because He alone is the qualified person for all promises. Town, Saltmarsh, and the rest insist that we are freed from the Law not only as a covenant, but as a rule for holy living. Since the Law cannot give life or sanctify, they say, it is a dead letter. Only the Gospel, like the sun, brings life.

But does not the Gospel, apart from the Spirit, also remain a dead letter? Can it sanctify without the Spirit any more than the Law can? If we are only obligated to follow what effectually sanctifies, then neither Law nor Gospel binds us unless the Spirit is actively working in us.

By this logic, the Spirit alone is our rule—and only when He is actively breathing in us are we obliged to act. So, if we do not believe, repent, or avoid sin, we are not guilty—because we were not moved by the Spirit. But sin, by definition, is a breach of some command. If we are under no command to believe or obey unless the Spirit acts, then His non-acting becomes the cause of our sins.

In that case, all sin is reduced to mere opinion. It is no longer truly ours, but only the result of God not acting in us. And if so, then what is sin, but God’s own work in us?

Chapter LXXVIII

Libertines and Antinomians Eliminate Remorse for Sin

Paral. X.

The old Libertines claimed that no one should feel troubled in conscience for sin, because everything that happens is God's doing, and nothing occurs outside His will.

Modern Libertines echo this, saying, “If God lets me sin, then it’s His concern.” In the same spirit, Mr. Archer writes that we shouldn’t be troubled by our sins, since they come from God. He even claims that God is the author of the sinfulness in His people. Other Antinomians may not say this so directly, but their doctrines imply it.

Antinomians also quiet the conscience by another argument:

Chapter LXXIX

Libertines and Antinomians Compare Believers with Christ Incarnate

Paral. XI.

As David Georgius and his followers once did, Libertines now claim that Christ in us is simply God manifested in the flesh—or that Christ is merely a symbolic figure of patience and virtue for us to imitate.

The author of The Bright Star calls Christ the "pattern in the mount," suggesting we follow Him as an example in life and worship. Worse, some of these writers go so far as to erase the Creator-creature distinction altogether, claiming that there is nothing in the believer but God Himself. This not only confuses the nature of Christ but also undermines a foundational truth of the Christian faith: that the eternal Son of God was made flesh.

The New England Libertines teach that Christ is incarnate in every believer. Some English Antinomians go further, rejecting Moses and the Law altogether and saying, “I am Christed and Goded.” One recent, foolish pamphlet goes so far as to say that a man in Christ becomes both a living, active God and a dead, passive creature.

Although Antinomians still claim to believe in the incarnation of the Son of God, their language shows how dangerously close they come to equating believers with Christ. They treat both the believer’s person and actions—even acts of adultery, theft, or deceit—as being just as sinless as Christ Himself or the glorified saints in heaven.

Chapter LXXX

Libertines and Antinomians Teach That Following Inner Sense Is the Only Rule of Life

Paral. XII

The Libertines taught that any lifestyle or calling was lawful, so long as it aligned with one's natural inclinations. They believed following personal desire was equivalent to following the Spirit. Thus, they claimed Christians could live however they pleased, since they were freed from all Law. Marriage, they said, only bound a couple as long as their mutual inclinations agreed; once those affections ceased, they were free to remarry. The same applied to possessions—one could rob or oppress if moved by their "calling," which they equated with inward inclination.

Antinomians teach much the same. Town, Eaton, Den, and Saltmarsh argue that believers are just as free from sin before God as Christ Himself—though they may still appear sinful to others, as they live "according to the flesh" or "by sense." But to live by sense, according to Saltmarsh, is merely how sin seems, not how it truly is before God.

So, when a believer commits adultery, lies, or steals, Antinomians say these are not sins in God's sight—only in man’s perception. They treat sense (which they equate with unbelief) as a false judge. Therefore, such acts are not violations of any law, since the believer is under none. But if there is no law binding the believer, then these actions must either be lawful—or else Antinomians contradict themselves by calling them sins at all.

In truth, this is no different than the Libertine idea that natural inclination is the only law. For Antinomians like Town and Saltmarsh, all external commandments are shadows. The Spirit alone is the believer’s rule. No outward command obligates the believer to obey under pain of sin before God. Hence, their views on marriage and divorce are as loose and worldly as their view of sin itself.

Chapter LXXXI

Some Antinomians Say That Even Irish Papists Should Have Liberty of Conscience to Practice Their Religion

Paral. XIII

The old Libertines claimed that they had eternal life and would never die—not even physically—because Christ had removed from them even the idea of death. They saw Christ’s death as abolishing not just eternal punishment, but the very notion of mortality.

While Antinomians cannot deny that believers die, they reject that death is a consequence of sin or God's righteous judgment for the believer. Instead, they say believers return to the dust peacefully, without fear or pain—because fear and pain are contrary to faith and grace. According to this view, it is unbelief to feel affliction or dread death, just as it is unbelief to be convicted of sin.

Following this reasoning, writers like Archer, Saltmarsh, and Crisp claim that even when a believer commits adultery or other sins, those acts are not truly sin in God’s sight. To the believer’s faith, sin is abolished and cannot be felt, feared, or grieved. Therefore, afflictions, including death, are to be seen as mere shadows, not true evils.

Saltmarsh teaches that the Spirit of Christ has so freed believers from hell, law, and bondage, that they are already as free as if they were in heaven. The only thing lacking is for them to believe it fully. Sin, Satan, and the Law may still seem near—but this, they say, is not reality, only a failure to walk by faith.

According to Town, faith drives away all the fog and mist of our earthly nature from God’s presence. So he says, “I am a sinner, and no sinner. I fall daily in myself, but stand forever in Christ.” Yet he contradicts himself. If, as Antinomians teach, sin in the flesh is not truly sin, then he cannot say he "falls in himself." According to their logic, even the sense of sin is a lie; faith declares that the believer is no more a sinner than Christ Himself.

And just as sin becomes an illusion to faith, so do pain, suffering, and even death. These, too, are declared to be false impressions—errors of the flesh. Feeling them is seen as walking by sight, not by faith. Therefore, the Antinomians turn Christ’s death into a means of removing all sense of sin, sorrow, or suffering. And to feel pain or fear becomes, in their view, a failure of faith and thus a sin. This is precisely the view of the Libertines, who claimed that Christ came not only to save us from sin and judgment, but to free us from any awareness or sense of affliction at all.

Chapter LXXXII:

Libertines and Antinomians Doubt the Resurrection and the Life to Come

Paral. XIV

The Libertines denied the bodily resurrection and echoed the error of Hymenaeus and Philetus, claiming that the resurrection was already past, and that walking in newness of life was all the resurrection to be expected. They mocked the hope of Christ’s return and eternal salvation, reducing it to a present spiritual experience.

David Georgius went further, asserting that just as Moses and the Prophets gave one level of revelation, and Christ and the Apostles a greater, so now in himself—the supposed "true David" and "Lion of the tribe of Judah"—there was a revelation more glorious and spiritual than Christ according to the flesh. He claimed his doctrine surpassed even that of the Apostles, and that when he came, all external ordinances and worship should cease, being inferior to his “spiritual” teaching.

He allegorized the return of Christ. The clouds in which Christ is said to return were, according to him, the minds of the saints. The trumpet of the Archangel was, he said, his own doctrine and discipline. He taught that heaven was not a place above, but here on earth. Paradise, heaven, and hell were merely inward conditions: heaven was the gifts of the mind, the earth the bodily pleasures, and hell the inner torment. All, he said, would soon belong to the saints.

Another deceiver, Henry Nicholas—who called himself “the Father of the Family of Love”—claimed God had done a miraculous work in him. Once dead in spirit, he said, God raised him up through Christ, filled him with divine life, and united him with Himself. He claimed to be the living tabernacle of God, the seat of Christ, and the anointed fulfillment of David's promised seed.

Consider, beloved, how deceitfully these false teachers twist Scripture. Henry Nicholas, the founder of the "Family of Love," claimed that the judgment seat of Christ had already been revealed on earth, and that he himself now sat on that seat in the “habitation of David,” judging in righteousness. He declared that this was the fulfillment of Scripture, and that through his appearance—the supposed coming of Christ in majesty—the resurrection of the dead had taken place in this present day.

Nicholas claimed that the resurrection spoken of in Scripture had already occurred among his followers, and that the dead now lived and reigned spiritually in them, fulfilling the promise of Christ’s return and judgment. He taught that his community, the "household of love," had received this resurrection and now proclaimed it as the joyful message of the kingdom of God to all the world.

One of his disciples, when asked if he believed that the bodies of the dead would be raised again, replied, “I do not know.” This uncertainty reveals the confusion and error of their doctrine.

Similarly, the Familist Anne Hutchinson and her followers taught that the souls of men are, by natural generation, mortal like those of animals (citing Ecclesiastes 3:8), and only made immortal by Christ’s purchase. They claimed that those united to Christ already possess new bodies—two bodies even—based on a misunderstanding of 1 Corinthians 6:19. They denied that the same physical bodies would be raised again, interpreting the resurrection passages in 1 Corinthians 15 and John 5:28 as referring not to bodily resurrection, but to spiritual union with Christ in this life and in the life to come.

According to them, there is no literal “kingdom of heaven” in Scripture—only Christ himself. These views mirror the heresies of Hymenaeus and Philetus, and the spiritualizing doctrines of the Libertines, who also denied the resurrection of the body, reducing it to an inward experience of mystical union with Christ.

Antinomians have never clearly stated their views on the resurrection and the life to come, nor have they openly opposed the errors of the Libertines and Familists in these matters. Yet they continue to embrace many of their other doctrines. Saltmarsh, for example, seems to acknowledge no heaven beyond this life—except in opinion. He writes that “the Spirit of Christ sets a believer as free from hell, the Law, and bondage here on earth, as if he were in heaven.” According to him, the believer lacks nothing of heaven but to believe he is already there—and in believing it, he is there.

But this overlooks what Scripture teaches. The believer does still lack much of heaven: the resurrection and glorification of the body (Phil. 3:19–21), the removal of original sin, full immortality, complete deliverance from sin, sorrow, and suffering; perfect joy and glory, the beatific vision, and the perfection of love. These are not possessed now—but are longed for. We groan in this earthly tent, having only the firstfruits of the Spirit, and being still absent from the Lord. Yet Saltmarsh, who claims a “purer” free grace and a fuller Gospel revelation, never once in all his writings speaks of the final and crowning act of Gospel grace—that Christ will raise us bodily at the last day.

Second, as long as Antinomians remain unclear on their claims about sin—namely, that it exists only “before men” or “according to the flesh” and not before God—they appear to follow Hutchinson and the Familists, who teach that sin resides only in the “old body” or “natural soul,” not in the new self redeemed by Christ. Unless they publicly reject this teaching, we must assume they embrace it.

Third, as Calvin teaches from Paul, “we are saved in hope.” Eternal life is not yet possessed in its fullness. We await the redemption of both body and soul at Christ’s return. The Libertines denied this, claiming we are already fully saved here and now. Antinomians say the same. Saltmarsh and Town reject the Protestant distinction—that we are saved by right, by hope, and truly in Christ our Head—but not yet in full possession. Instead, they insist we are already fully, perfectly saved in this life, lacking only the belief that it is so. But Scripture says otherwise.

Chapter LXXXIII

Familists, Libertines, and Anabaptists Anticipate Antinomians in Denying All External Worship and Obedience

Paral. XV.

Henry Nicholas taught that “love” is the very essence and Godhead of Christ, received through the power of the Holy Spirit. For him, this inward love was everything, and all outward obedience based on the written Word was merely fleshly and ceremonial. In the same way, Master Dell (Sermon 19), rejecting all forms of external reformation, called such practices hypocritical and carnal. He dismissed both Law and Gospel in Scripture as mere “dead letters,” placing all authority in the inward work of the Spirit. According to him, Christ's kingdom has no written laws—only three principles:

Henry Nicholas further taught that no one should boast of righteousness, or claim salvation or condemnation, until they are renewed by the Spirit of Christ. Not, he said, in what he calls "elemental" or “ceremonial” righteousness—works produced by human effort or wisdom—but in the righteousness that is found in Christ’s own being and revealed by the Spirit of God. According to Nicholas, the true Christ has not yet been revealed to those who depend on human wisdom or merely literal readings of Scripture. Such people, he said, pursue a man-made righteousness apart from the Spirit of Christ—a miserable doctrine, taught without the Spirit.

Henry Nicholas teaches that those not instructed by the Spirit interpret Scripture in an earthly, fleshly way, which cannot lead to true heart renewal. He argues that those baptized into Christ must show evidence of Christ's likeness within. Yet, he challenges others who claim to have Christian baptism, asking whether Christ truly lives in them, or whether they merely have a baptism of their own making.

He applies the same reasoning to the Lord’s Supper, reducing it to an inward experience of divine love, rather than an ordinance established by Christ. According to Nicholas, forsaking our life for Christ means abandoning our own self-driven life—a life that began when man turned from God's will and followed the desires of sin. In this way, man forsook God's life and embraced the life of the devil.

Nicholas claims Christ’s role is to bring man back to God—but this, he says, cannot happen unless man abandons his own life entirely. This inner “man of sin,” long hidden in the heart, is what must be forsaken. He misapplies 2 Thessalonians 2, not to the Pope, but to the sinful nature within man, which he calls the true Antichrist. Consequently, he forbids others to suffer or die for confessing Christ, praising instead those who err and avoid persecution.

In his writings, Nicholas also reduces church offices to inner meanings: bishops are simply figures of “holy understanding,” and parish priests only shadow Levitical figures. He mocks the idea that God could be appeased by the physical body of Christ, calling it an “earthly understanding”—as if God were fleshly like an unregenerate man.

Likewise, Master Dell insists that Christ’s kingdom is spiritual, and therefore all things in it must be spiritual—not external.

David Georgius, observing the suffering of his followers, eventually taught them to avoid persecution altogether. He encouraged them to conform outwardly to whatever religion was safest, teaching that all true reformation was inward, in the heart.

Bullinger reports that a sect of Anabaptists, called the "Free Anabaptists," held similar views. They considered infant baptism, civil authority, oaths, and preaching all to be indifferent matters, left to individual choice. They rejected public worship and church assemblies, claiming that all believers were taught directly by God and needed no instruction. Sacraments were seen as unnecessary, since they had the Spirit. Confessing Christ publicly, they said, was optional—depending on personal risk. God, they claimed, does not desire men to suffer or die for Him; it was enough to keep God in the heart.

Now observe what Henry Nicholas believed:

Antinomians closely align with the Familists in many points. Saltmarsh, in particular, elevates the inward Spirit as the only law, while rejecting even the smallest ray of the written Law's light. He opposes all external ordinances, covenants, and vows as merely “legal” and part of Old Testament worship. He denies the place of conditions or human responses in any Gospel covenant—rejecting even believing as a condition, claiming it contradicts the Spirit and free grace. He stands against all Gospel commands and precepts, favoring reasoning and persuasion instead. To him, the Gospel is only a promise, not a covenant. He also opposes personal mortification and sorrow for sin, calling them legal, unlawful under grace, and remnants of bondage. It is, he says, servile to pray at set times unless the Spirit moves us. He even claims that interpreting Scripture “in the letter” darkens the Gospel’s glory.

But if Saltmarsh understood the controversies between Protestants and Rome, he would know that the Roman Church teaches multiple senses of Scripture—the literal, spiritual, mystical, allegorical, tropological, and anagogical. Against this, we confess Scripture has one true sense: the literal, grammatical meaning that arises naturally from the words, whether they be plain, figurative, or sacramental. The so-called “spiritual” sense is not a separate or opposing meaning but is drawn from the literal one.

By rejecting the literal sense, Saltmarsh allies himself with the Familists, Henry Nicholas, and Roman allegorists—who commit the greatest violence against Scripture. The Spirit, who inspired the Word, also illumines the reader to discern its true sense—not a mystical or hidden one contrary to the text, but the intended meaning itself. In embracing fanciful revelations outside or even against the Word, Antinomians abandon the Spirit’s true work. For such abuses, Saltmarsh must be referred to his spiritual brethren among the Familists and the mystical authors of books like Philosophy Dissected.

Chapter LXXXIV

Dell and Saltmarsh reject outward reformation, ordinances, and Scripture, aligning with Familists by appealing solely to an inward spirit.

Among the Antinomians, Master Dell stands out for denying the authority of Scripture and all ordinances, elevating instead a mystical and inward “spirit”—not the true Spirit of God, but an enthused imagination.

Dell claims that during the time of Moses and the Law, until Christ came, there was no true inward reformation. He argues that despite all outward duties and ceremonies, people remained inwardly corrupt, no better than the heathen. Thus, according to him, there was no real transformation before Christ appeared with the ministry of the Spirit.

But this is a misreading of Hebrews 9:10. The Scripture there contrasts Levitical ceremonies with the fuller life in Christ—but not with moral duties or inward conversion. Contrary to Dell’s assertion, Abraham, David, and others under the Old Testament were indeed justified by faith (Rom. 4:4–6) and saved by the same grace as we are (Acts 15:11).

Furthermore, Dell pits Moses’ teaching—what he calls “the letter”—against Christ, who he says brings “the Spirit and life.” In doing so, he follows the theology of the Papists, who falsely claim that Old Testament sacraments were mere signs and not means of grace. Worse, he aligns with Socinians and Arminians, who deny that the Old Testament offered eternal life or the same covenant of grace found in the New. These views contradict clear biblical teaching that salvation has always been by faith in the promised Messiah.

Dell’s doctrine implies that the saints under the Old Testament had no experience of regeneration, no operation of the Spirit, and no hope of eternal life—only temporal promises. This is not only unbiblical but echoes the teachings of Rome and other enemies of grace. Yet, remarkably, Antinomians such as Dell align with these errors while claiming to champion the Gospel.

By contrast, true Protestant teaching affirms one covenant of grace throughout all redemptive history. Though the Old Testament saints saw Christ dimly through types and shadows, they were saved by the same Redeemer we trust today. The promises were the same; the grace was the same—only the clarity differs. Abraham was justified as we are.

So who now aligns with Antichrist: those who deny the Gospel in the Old Testament, or those who preach the same grace and Christ from Genesis to Revelation? It is not those who hold fast to the everlasting covenant who betray the Gospel—but those who, like Dell and the Antinomians, deny the work of grace under the Law and exalt themselves with visions of sinless perfection. These are not the ones prepared to fight the Lamb’s battles.

Moreover, can the mere letter of the Gospel—apart from the Spirit—save, reform, or justify more than the Law? Judas and others who heard Christ and the Apostles preach remained hardened and unconverted (Matt. 13:14–15; Acts 28:26–27; John 8:21). The Gospel, like the Law, becomes a word of condemnation to those who stumble at Christ, the cornerstone (1 Pet. 2:7–8). Dell must therefore mean something different by “spirit” than the Gospel itself, for the Gospel, too, condemns when not received by faith.

In this, he rightly speaks of heart-reformation: Zion shall be redeemed with judgment, and her converts with righteousness (Isa. 1:27). Christ is not only righteous in himself but becomes our righteousness by dwelling in us.

His reasons are these:

But civil and ecclesiastical reforms, Dell says, obsess over outward forms—orders, government, confessions, and practices—just like the Pharisees who cleaned the outside of the cup while leaving the inside filthy. Such reform paints a man with religious language and behavior but leaves him inwardly defiled through unbelief. It is a mere whitewashing, not a true renewal.

Objection: Is there no outward change under the Gospel?

Answer: Yes, there is an outward change—but only as it flows from an inward transformation. Outward reforms must follow inward renewal, not produce it.

In fact, one might think Dell had been sitting at the feet of Henry Nicholas, Anton Pocquius, or David Georgius, for he follows them closely. Nicholas, too, undermines Christ in the Scriptures and all outward worship, as if there were one Christ in the Bible and another contrary Christ known only by inward revelation.

But the Reformers never claimed mere external reform to be true godliness. They clearly distinguished between outward, hypocritical religion—which is from the flesh or even the devil—and genuine inward reformation wrought by God’s Spirit.

Henry Nicholas taught that even if one gave all to the poor, without true love (that is, without Christ), it amounted to nothing. For him, true righteousness came not from a “ceremonial Christ” preached through outward forms or ordinances, but from a mystical union with Christ through the Spirit. Dell says essentially the same: that no real reformation can occur unless the inner man is first renewed and the body of sin destroyed.

But Dell, like Nicholas, divorces the Spirit from the Word and opposes the outward ministry of the Word as fleshly and man-made. He speaks of the Gospel only in terms of inward feeling and rejects all ordered teaching of truth from one person to another as inadequate unless it arises from an already perfected inward state.

Henry Nicholas condemned the written Word as merely literal, carnal, and ceremonial. He viewed confession with the mouth as hypocritical and outwardly Pharisaical. He explicitly rejected all teaching through human ministry—contrary to what the Apostle Paul affirms (Eph. 4:11; 1 Cor. 4:2; 2 Cor. 4:7), and what the Lord Jesus commanded (Matt. 28:19–20; Acts 1:6–8). Nicholas claimed that man’s teaching of another was nothing but fleshly wisdom, unfit to bring about the new birth.

This monstrous error entirely disregards Scripture and external worship. He mirrored David Georgius, who rejected the historical Christ and claimed to be the true spiritual Christ. Likewise, Mr. Dell, in speaking of inward reformation—that is, conversion—follows the same path. He knows well that Presbyterians and the Assembly of Divines, though he accuses them of being enemies of Christ’s truth, teach that inward reformation does not come through mere external ordinances, laws, or synods. Rather, they maintain that only the sovereign power of the Holy Spirit can effect true conversion. Without the Spirit, Paul’s planting and Apollos’ watering avail nothing (1 Cor. 3:6–7).

Dell, however, argues as if Paul and the apostles could do nothing but produce external conformity, because their preaching was merely outward. Yet Paul preached to hardened Jews and mocking Athenians, and still declared the truth, trusting the Spirit to work.

Dell contradicts himself. Though he grants there is need for an outward change under the Gospel, he denies that any external change matters unless it arises from inward transformation. But if outward change is admitted, then outward reformation is not worthless. Still, Dell recognizes no ministry, no outward worship, no ordinances—just as the Familists before him.

The author of Theologia Germanica, though himself heretical, admits more than Dell. He acknowledges that Christ’s life, and even laws and ordinances, are not to be discarded or mocked. Henry Nicholas, though he says God speaks in Scripture, still asserts that only the Spirit is the true Word, not the letter.

Likewise, Dell pits the "letter in the book" against what he calls the "living Word of God in the heart"—an opposition that undermines the harmony between Scripture and the Spirit. But the true work of the Spirit never contradicts or bypasses the Word; rather, the Spirit applies it powerfully to the heart.

Dell asserts exclusively, “Other reformation besides that of the heart, I know none.” Again, he claims that Gospel reformation focuses only on the heart. If that is so, then it excludes all concern for external reformation. He argues that Christ, in speaking of New Testament worship, never mentioned outward forms, and that God’s aim in Gospel-reformation is solely the heart. But if this were true, then acts like reading Scripture, hearing preaching, or praying vocally in the Spirit would be unnecessary, for though these must flow from the heart, they are still external by nature—visible and audible expressions of worship. They inherently involve form.

This view is not new. Caspar Schwenckfeld, a Silesian in Luther’s time, taught that preaching and the ministry of the Word do not convert men, and that external proclamation of the Word is merely historical. He denied that Scripture was truly the Word of God, saying instead that only Christ as the substantial Word is the true Word of God.

Dell claims that when the heart is reformed, all is reformed. Therefore, if the Spirit is in the heart, prompting acts like reading, hearing, or praying, only then are we obligated to perform them. Otherwise, we are not. In this way, Dell and the Antinomians effectively deny that any command—whether from the written Word or from those appointed to preach or rule in Christ’s Church—has binding authority to require external worship. For them, unless the Spirit acts directly within, no Scripture, no external ordinance, no Synod, no command binds the believer.

This leads to the Familist and Antinomian notion that the Holy Spirit replaces the natural faculties of the soul, acting immediately in all things—both inward acts like faith and love, and outward acts like prayer and public worship. Therefore, unless the Spirit stirs one to pray, even in one’s own household, there is no obligation to do so. In this view, Christ acts in the regenerate as if they were dead, making all exhortations and commands pointless, for they have no power to obey unless the Spirit acts directly.

Dell (p. 26) denies that there should be any laws in Christ’s kingdom, except those “within”—the law of a new nature, the law of the Spirit of life in Christ, and the law of love. But in this teaching, he completely excludes Scripture itself, the preaching of the Gospel, church discipline, excommunication, or correction through the Word or church authority. All of these, being “external,” are rejected. Only the internal “law” of the Spirit and of love is recognized.

If, as Master Dell says, “when the heart is reformed, all is reformed,” then outward obedience must fall under no law or command, and the external man is led only by the free movement of the Spirit, not by any written Word. But this contradicts Scripture. The same Lord who says, “Purify your hearts,” also commands, “Cleanse your hands.” Paul likewise instructs the saints not to speak corruptly, to put away bitterness, wrath, and malice, and forbids fornication, uncleanness, and covetousness—declaring that such sins exclude people from the kingdom of God. Clearly, then, outward behavior is governed by the Gospel as well as inward renewal.

Dell’s teaching echoes that of the Familists, who insisted that inward faith and love were sufficient without external works. It aligns with the views of the Anabaptists and their leader Thomas Müntzer, who rejected the authority of Scripture and external ministry, claiming that inward revelations and visions were God’s true Word. They deemed baptism, civil government, and oaths to be indifferent matters, left to personal liberty. Preaching and Scripture were unnecessary, they said, because believers had the Spirit and no longer needed outward signs or ordinances. Confessing Christ publicly was unnecessary, especially in times of danger. It was enough, they argued, to keep the truth in the heart, for God delights not in outward suffering or martyrdom.

This same logic underlies Dell’s strongest argument. He claims that because Gospel reformation is inward—the spiritual destruction of the body of sin—it does not touch external matters. But if this is true, then all external church and civil governance is excluded: outward preaching, baptism, public prayer, confession of Christ, church discipline, civil justice—all of it is rendered unnecessary.

According to Dell (p. 6–7), Gospel reformation does not deal with the external man. If that is so, then the Gospel does not address murder, incest, theft, adultery, lying, blasphemy, or idolatry. Preachers cannot rebuke such sins by the Word, and magistrates have no authority by the Gospel to punish them, despite Paul’s words in Romans 13, that the magistrate is God's servant to avenge evil. If the Gospel does not concern itself with external actions, then it commands nothing of the outward man—not to walk circumspectly, nor to walk in Christ, nor to confess Christ publicly.

But this undermines the clear teaching of Scripture. Paul prays that “your whole spirit, soul, and body be sanctified” (1 Thess. 5:23), and the Gospel certainly calls for holiness in both inward heart and outward life. Dell’s view would make all externals—worship or conduct—optional. Killing, adultery, lying, and idolatry would all be matters of liberty if one inwardly believes in the righteousness of Christ. Dell insists the destruction of the body of sin is the only true reformation—and any outward reformation, he claims, he “knows not.”

Such teaching not only contradicts the Word of God but undermines the entire purpose of sanctification, which the Gospel calls for in every part of the believer's life.

Only True Gospel-Reformation Is Spiritual—But Not Merely Inward

Objection: Gospel reformation is spiritual, not carnal. But civil and ecclesiastical reformation is carnal, being wrought by flesh and blood.

Answer: This claim is both questionable and false. While civil reformation, as civil, is not formally spiritual, it can still be materially and objectively aligned with spiritual truth. To say that church reformation must be exclusively inward and spiritual—opposed to anything external—is a dangerous error. It undermines godliness as it appears in the outward man, through obedience to the commands of both tables of the Law.

Gospel reformation, from God’s side, is indeed inward, spiritual, and invisible—God alone renews the heart. Yet this is only half the picture. From man’s side, gospel reformation includes both internal and external obedience. It is worked out through the preaching of the Word and the discipline of the Church. The apostles and elders in Acts 15 offer a clear example: they reformed the churches in Antioch, Jerusalem, Syria, and Cilicia by sending them binding instructions—rejecting circumcision and ceremonial laws, while also urging them to abstain from practices that were morally or ceremonially offensive. This was both spiritual and external reformation, aimed at restoring the Church from doctrinal and moral corruption.

To claim, as Master Dell does, that church reformation is “carnal” merely because men carry it out, is false. While the outward means may involve the body and the senses, that does not make them sinful or fleshly in the corrupt sense. The ceremonial laws of Moses were described as “carnal ordinances,” but they were not sinful or unlawful—they were instituted by God and pointed to Christ. Dell's interpretation of Hebrews 9 is mistaken. He equates "carnal" with "sinful," which would make God's own commandments sinful—a blasphemous error reminiscent of the Manicheans.

Reformation carried out by preaching and godly assemblies—when aligned with Scripture—is both lawful and spiritual. Though outward, it binds the conscience because it proceeds from the authority of God. It leads to a spiritual end: obedience to Christ. The Church does not claim to change hearts directly but seeks to do so instrumentally—through planting, watering, and tending the Lord’s vineyard. Dell’s logic would eliminate not only gospel preaching but even natural means like farming. For example, if God alone nourishes life, does that make sowing and reaping unnecessary? No—God works through means.

Dell also misuses John 4, “God is Spirit, and those who worship Him must worship in spirit and truth.” This verse has long been twisted by Gnostics, Libertines, and Anabaptists to reject all outward worship and acts of obedience. Likewise, Town cannot answer Doctor Taylor’s challenge that Antinomians deny all external worship. Town claims that, because faith unites us to Christ, we are fulfillers of the Law, and thus have no need of outward sanctification.

Similarly, Dell reduces reformation to an inward change alone. He writes that gospel reformation is the destroying of sin by the indwelling righteousness of God through faith. He never mentions sanctification, mortifying sin, or walking with God. Yet Scripture teaches that sanctification is indeed heart-reformation—one that manifests itself in outward obedience as well.

Del's Misuse of the New Covenant to Deny External Obedience

Del (pp. 5–6) argues that the new covenant is entirely about inward reformation—the law written on the heart, as in Jeremiah 31. But he neglects that the same covenant also includes this promise from Ezekiel 36:27: “I will put my Spirit within them, and cause them to walk in my commandments.” The covenant of grace not only changes the heart, but also leads to outward obedience. Psalm 89:30–32 affirms that God's covenant chastens His children when they forsake His law or violate His statutes. Likewise, Ezekiel 11:19–20 and 2 Corinthians 6:16–18 and 7:1 call for separation from sin and cleansing both body and spirit, commanding holiness both inwardly and outwardly.

But according to Del—and as Saltmarsh also teaches—this heart reformation is simply believing that Christ obeyed the law, repented, sorrowed for sin, and was sanctified on our behalf. That, they say, is all the reformation required of us.

Yet this undermines the clear biblical call to walk in holiness. The reformation urged by faithful ministers is not hypocritical, as the Pharisees’ was, simply because it includes outward obedience. Though the church can only bring about external reformation—through preaching, teaching, and synodical guidance (as in Acts 15)—it does not promote mere formality. It depends on God to give inward increase. But to dismiss external obedience as hypocritical is to falsely accuse the ministry of the Word.

Del goes further (p. 89), claiming that Gospel-reformation is “thorough and complete” in both inner and outer man, while ecclesiastical reformation is “by halves.” He even suggests that God's power in reforming the elect is as irresistible as His power in creating or redeeming them. In contrast, ecclesiastical reformation has only human power and cannot change the heart.

Response: Del misunderstands Gospel-reformation. He defines it as the complete destruction of the body of sin. But this is a serious error. The body of sin is never fully destroyed in this life (Romans 7:24; Galatians 5:17). Yet Del seems to side with Eaton, Town, and the Familists, who claim believers are now as perfect and sinless as Christ Himself or the glorified saints in heaven. This is the same claim made by Pocquius the Libertine, who falsely asserted that the truly reformed cannot sin, citing 1 John 3:9.

2. Del's Argument Undermines the Entire Ministry of the Gospel

Del’s reasoning strikes at the heart of the entire ministry of the Word—Gospel preaching, sacraments, promises, commands, warnings—all of which the Swenckfeldians and Seekers likewise reject. But Scripture affirms that Paul was a spiritual father who begat the Corinthians (1 Cor. 4:15), and Timothy was called to save himself and others (1 Tim. 4:16). Del’s argument would make these apostolic labors invalid, since neither Paul nor Timothy could effect inward, perfect, and irresistible conversion. Yet, does it follow that their ministry was therefore unlawful or useless? Not at all.

Del essentially argues that because ministers cannot write the law on the heart or convert with omnipotent power, as only God can, all external ministry must be discarded—preaching, sacraments, exhortation, discipline, and every form of visible godliness. But to follow this logic is to deny not only the means God has ordained but the entire visible practice of religion. Del exceeds even the radical Enthusiasts of Münster who still spared the Bible. Del, by contrast, treats even the Scriptures as external and “carnal,” unsuited to the spiritual kingdom of Christ.

He writes (p. 6), “As the Kingdom of Christ is spiritual, so all the things belonging to it are spiritual.” And again (p. 9), he says Gospel-reformation continues as long as God's nature dwells in ours, gradually transforming the flesh until it is fully spiritual. In contrast, he says, civil and ecclesiastical reform begins with outward zeal but quickly fades once men achieve their ends.

Response:

This proves only that inward and outward reform are distinct—not that the latter is unlawful. God’s internal work is certainly more essential, but He has also appointed the ministry of men for preaching, shepherding, and governing. Acts 15 shows that the apostles and elders reformed the churches through commands and guidance—spiritually and externally. Their decrees, including abstaining from blood and fornication, were not mere ceremonies but moral instructions for holiness.

Del falsely claims that ecclesiastical reform is “carnal” because it is conducted by men. But external does not mean sinful. Moses’ ceremonies were “carnal” in that they were outward and temporary—not that they were wicked or contrary to the Spirit. To say otherwise, as Del seems to, is to revive the old Manichean heresy that God gave evil laws. Even outward ordinances, rightly administered, are spiritual insofar as they are grounded in God’s Word and point toward Christ.

Furthermore, Del’s language about God's nature dwelling in our nature, and the Spirit working until the natural man becomes spiritual, is deeply problematic. It resembles the heresies of Henry Nicholas and the Familists, who claimed God and man shared the same being, and that believers become one substance with God. This is blasphemous. True believers are partakers of the divine nature (2 Pet. 1:4), but only in the sense of sharing in God’s gracious likeness—not in His essence. Sanctification does not mean being deified.

If Del simply means that the Spirit sanctifies believers until they grow in holiness, his expression is poorly chosen. But if he means, as the Familists do, that believers become divine, or that Christ’s incarnation is replicated in each believer, then he has aligned himself with dangerous error. The New England Familists and the author of The Bright Star spoke in such terms of men being “Christed,” of “God humanized,” and even that “the Cross of God is God.” Del must clarify if he does not mean the same.

3. The Spirit does not dwell in our flesh—that is, in our sinful and unrenewed nature—as Paul uses the term in Romans 7.

Who ever imagined that grace dwells within original sin? If Del means by “flesh” the natural man or the outward self, then he implies that this outward man is transformed into a spiritual nature—so that we are, through justification, made spiritual like the angels. If so, then believers supposedly need no more ordinances, no Word, no sacraments, no Scripture—just as glorified saints do not. Saltmarsh says believers are as spiritual as the angels, and Del claims they are more spiritual. If that is true, then they should need even less of the written Word, preaching, moral law, or ordinances than angels do. They wouldn’t need marriage, couldn’t die or sin, and would be incapable of lying, stealing, or committing adultery—being as the angels in heaven.

I cannot help but suspect Del and his associates of leaning toward the views of the Familists. When Del says believers are “more spiritual than angels,” and that the “natural man must be made spiritual by the imputed righteousness of God” (pp. 6–7), I fear he echoes Mistress Hutchinson and others who claim that those united to Christ in this life receive “new bodies” (1 Cor. 6:19), that souls are mortal by nature and made immortal by redemption, and that the resurrection in John 5:28 is not of the body, but of spiritual union with Christ in this life. These are the same errors taught by the libertine Anton Pocquius, and others who, with Hymenaeus and Philetus, claimed the resurrection had already taken place and that salvation is complete before death. Antinomians such as Town and Saltmarsh repeat the same claims, teaching that we are already perfected in this life. Unless they openly reject the errors of the Familists from which they borrow, they must be held accountable for them.

4. Ecclesiastical Reformation, in its goal, is not fleshly or carnal but sincere and godly.

Unless Del, like the Nicolaitans, believes the written Word, all external ordinances, preaching, and prayer are abolished for the justified, and that believers are led only by the Spirit, then his argument fails. For if these external things are “Elementish” or fleshly, and all thought, meditation, prayer, or effort is useless to attain union with God—if there can be no means, no law, no Scripture between God and the soul—then he must mean that man is wholly passive, and all willing, loving, or believing is annihilated and replaced by some mystical union with God.

But the reason external reformation is constant and enduring, like inward grace, is because both are founded in the unchangeable will of God. The external commands of the Gospel remain: our ears must hear, our mouths confess Christ, our hands serve, our bodies abstain from sin—all these are external duties commanded by God, and they are as constant and enduring as internal sanctification. Yes, it is true that external obedience may be hypocritical when not joined with a renewed heart. But that only proves men may corrupt a good ordinance of God; it does not prove that external worship and reformation are themselves invalid.

5. The difference between inward and outward reformation highlights the superiority of the former.

This is undeniable. The Spirit’s work in regenerating the heart is infinitely greater than any outward form. But this does not mean outward reformation is worthless. God requires visible holiness—an outward, blameless profession of Christ (Matt. 10:32–33), abstaining from scandalous sins, and living uprightly before men. These are not to be despised or minimized. Outward obedience honors God publicly, even as inward obedience glorifies Him privately. Both are part of Gospel reformation, and neither should be set aside.

Del, page 10, writes: If the Church is to be redeemed, Christ must redeem it. If it is to be governed, Christ must govern it. If it is to be protected, Christ must protect it. If it is to be saved, Christ must save it. God has entrusted the care of the Church to Christ alone, not to any prince or magistrate. This is far better for the Church than if all the rulers of the world had been given the task.

Response: This reasoning would eliminate all human cooperation in the work of God. If Christ alone gives peace and godliness to His Church—as He alone redeems, governs, protects, and saves—then we need not pray for kings and authorities, as Paul commands (1 Tim. 2:2–3), nor support them in their efforts to preserve justice and peace. According to this logic, we should reject magistrates, armies, castles, and civil defense, since Christ alone protects His Church. Should we then do away with bread and agriculture too, since Christ alone feeds His people? But we know that Christ uses means—Joseph in Egypt, preaching in the Church, and magistrates in the state—as instruments of His care.

Second, Del’s argument resembles that of the Anabaptists and Libertines, who say that since God alone teaches the heart, no man should preach, and the Scriptures are lifeless compared to the Spirit. But this denies the clear teaching of Christ and the apostles that God has ordained pastors, teachers, and the written Word for the edification of the Church (Eph. 4:11–12). Yes, Christ is the one who saves and comforts, but He does so through means—especially through the preaching of the Gospel and the ministry of the Word.

Third, Libertines have similarly argued that sin is nothing more than an illusion, and therefore no one should be rebuked for sin, since God “works all in all.” This logic leads to the denial of moral accountability. Del claims that since Christ alone reforms the Church, no one else may preach repentance or correct error. But if ministers are silent, do they no longer sin? Paul says, “Woe is me if I preach not the Gospel” (1 Cor. 9:16), and the apostles were charged to feed the flock (Acts 20:28; 2 Tim. 4:1–2; 1 Pet. 5:1–3). To say no one should preach or reform because only Christ redeems is as absurd as saying no one sins by failing to redeem the world.

Finally, Del’s teaching dishonors the work of Parliament and the churches of the three kingdoms, who have taken solemn vows to pursue the reformation of religion in doctrine, worship, and discipline according to the Word of God. Del suggests this is an attempt to usurp Christ’s office, as though they were swearing to redeem the Church themselves. But in truth, they are only vowing to serve as instruments under Christ’s lordship, pursuing outward reformation through lawful means, as God commands.

According to Master Del and the Antinomians, if we follow their logic, then in our vocations we would assume roles exclusive to Christ: as kings, priests, redeemers, and prophets—offices that belong only to Christ. Yet, Del himself preached to the English Parliament, instructing them how they should reform the Church. In doing so, he took upon himself the very task he denies to others, effectively claiming Christ’s prerogative.

Del writes, “I do not doubt the Church’s reformation, because it is Christ’s own work.” He reasons that since Christ alone redeems, so also He alone reforms—and nothing can hinder Him. Therefore, Del rests in quietness, suggesting there is no need for human labor in the Church's reform.

But this is the same reasoning used by certain New England Familists, who twisted the doctrine of election and grace to say: only those known to be elect should be exhorted to believe. Others, being reprobate, should not even hear the Gospel. If Christ has not chosen them, then they are to be left in sin. On the same logic, if God has decreed one’s years and life, then there is no need to eat, sleep, or work; for God’s decree will stand regardless.

Paul, however, though he knew of God’s sovereign election (Rom. 9), still had “great sorrow and unceasing anguish” for the lost among his kinsmen. He labored with deep care for all the churches. If Del’s doctrine were true, there would be no cause for such effort, no burden for ministry, preaching, or personal conversion. But Scripture commands otherwise.

This error reflects the same heresy found among Libertines, who argued that since God works all things, sin itself is just an illusion. The Familists further claimed that all good is simply God, and that He is all in all, leaving no place for human responsibility or repentance.

Reformation and the Word of God: A Refutation of Del’s Antinomian Argument

Del argues that since Christ alone redeems and reforms, all second causes—ministry, ordinances, and human involvement in reformation—must cease. If Christ alone accomplishes these things, then why preach, write, or engage in any outward reform? Shouldn’t we simply wait while He does all? But this is Stoic fatalism, not biblical truth.

Del claims that Christ reforms only by the Word—not by outward power—and lists Scripture to support that all reform comes through the Word. Yet he fails to clarify that by "Word" he and other Familists mean not the Scriptures, but an inner, mystical word—what they call the "Spirit." They reject the Bible as merely the "letter," denying that it is the true Word of God. Antinomians in London openly deny that Scripture is God's Word, claiming instead they can speak and write new scripture by the Spirit. Some, like Mistress Hutchinson, even claim their revelations are as infallible as Scripture itself.

But this confuses two distinct ministries of the Holy Spirit:

The inspired prophets were not guided by human reason or debate. They spoke infallibly. But today, believers—though led by the Spirit—must still study, be taught, and submit to the written Word. Only what agrees with Scripture is God’s Word in a secondary sense. Jeremiah’s words, for example, were not merely "as true as Moses'" only if they agreed with Moses. They were God’s Word directly. But the words of modern believers are only authoritative as they conform to Scripture.

Del and the Antinomians confuse the two, claiming that believers today can speak as if inspired. This leads to great error. As Calvin rightly said, those who despise Scripture while claiming the Spirit act not by revelation but by delusion.

On Del and the Antinomians' View of the Word of God

It is evident that Del and the Libertines with him do not understand “the Word of God” to mean the Scriptures, but rather the Spirit of God working inwardly through His grace. Saltmarsh confirms this, saying the Gospel is no longer a mere law in the letter, but a law of life, spirit, and glory. He describes it as a law in Christ’s hand, enlivened by the promises of Christ. He points to passages like “I will put my Law in their inward parts,” and to the Spirit as the anointing that teaches all things.

But this is misleading. The Law, as given by Moses, was also part of Scripture—divinely inspired and written by the Spirit. The Ten Commandments given at Sinai were the very Word of God. If Del and the Antinomians deny this, they align with Anabaptists who removed the Old Testament from the canon, or with Manicheans who claimed the Law came from an evil spirit.

David Georgius, for instance, claimed that Christ and the Apostles preached only a literal gospel, not a spiritual one, and that he himself was the true, spiritual Son of David. He accused Christ of being merely a “literal” Messiah. Del appears to follow this same line of reasoning—by identifying the Word not with Scripture, but with the Spirit alone, and thereby excluding even the written Gospel from being considered the true Word of God.

Indeed, even the preached Gospel, if not accompanied by the Spirit, is as much a dead letter in the New Testament as the Law was in the Old.

Del argues that Christ reforms inwardly by His Word alone, and that no earthly power can reform the Church like the Word of God, which is “living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword.” But remember, he speaks here only of inward reformation, and of the Gospel Word, excluding the Law.

Yet, Del does not mean the external, written Gospel when he speaks of the Word. That cannot be, for the written Gospel can be preached to the likes of Judas and yet leave hearts hardened and unchanged (see Matt. 13:14–15; John 12:37–40). Nor can Del mean the Gospel accompanied by the Spirit—because when the Spirit empowers both Law and Gospel, they become instruments of inward transformation. The Law itself, when enlivened by the Spirit, leads to conviction and true reform.

Furthermore, Del says the Word alone reforms inwardly, and excludes “all the powers of the world.” But the letter of the Gospel, even when rightly preached, only works outward reformation apart from the Spirit. It is the Spirit working through the Word—Law and Gospel together—that reforms the heart. Therefore, Del’s teaching, which exalts a “spiritual” word while rejecting the written Scriptures and the role of the Law, cannot stand.

3. On the Word That Reforms Inwardly

This Word that truly reforms the heart excludes the powers of the world and all human effort. Man, at best, can bring about only an external reformation through the outward letter of the Word.

Henry Nicholas, for this reason, claimed that even the godly in England—such as the two daughters of Warwick—were Antichrists. Why? Because they were, in his view, regenerated only by the "ceremonial, fleshly, and literal Word"—that is, the Scriptures—apart from the Familist notion of the "inner Spirit of love." He insisted that true regeneration comes not by the Scripture rightly preached, but by a mystical, inward spirit that acts apart from, beyond, and even against the written Word.

Paul and Apollos, in their ministry of planting and watering, preached the Word faithfully. Yet even this preaching does not inwardly reform or convert the soul apart from the Spirit. The Word, no matter how true, is not effectual unless it is accompanied by the Holy Spirit, who alone is the efficient cause of inward transformation.

Contrary to Del’s teaching, the Spirit is not merely the Word itself or the only means of grace, but rather the sovereign Author who, through the Word, brings about effectual comfort, conviction, and conversion in the soul.

4. Del cites Isaiah 61:1 to prove that the Word alone is the means of conversion. He refers to the verse, “The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because He has anointed me to preach good news to the poor,” suggesting that the Word is this Spirit. But if Del means the Spirit and anointing Christ speaks of is merely the written Word, he implies Christ would say, “The Scripture is upon me,” which makes Christ no more than a literate teacher. That cannot be. The Spirit by which Christ was anointed is the Holy Spirit in full measure, not merely knowledge of Scripture.

When Christ said in Luke 4:21, “This day is this Scripture fulfilled in your hearing,” He declared the Word preached with power, not as a dead letter. To call Christ a "literal" preacher, as some Antinomians and Familists do, is blasphemous. If the written Gospel without the Spirit is dead, then Christ’s preaching would have been dead also, which is untrue.

Del further claims the Word Christ uses to reform is not the external Word, like the Law, but the internal Word written in the heart—“The Word is near you, in your mouth and heart.” But this inward Word is not a means; it is the result of inward regeneration. The new heart, the circumcised spirit, the indwelling Christ formed by faith—these are the effects of the Spirit working through the outward, preached Word.

To say Christ reforms only by an internal Word is like saying Christ brings about inward change by inward change, which is nonsensical. Christ reforms by His Spirit working through the external Word—both Law and Gospel—not by excluding them.

Saltmarsh wrongly says obedience that arises from outward commands, vows, or covenants is merely “legal” or hypocritical. But Scripture teaches that obedience to the outward Word—commanded by God—is genuine and Spirit-wrought when done in faith. As we see light because it is light, and hear sounds because they are sounds, so we obey God's Word because it is God's authoritative voice.

Obedience for no other reason than “thus says the Lord” is true Gospel obedience, not hypocrisy. Abraham’s faith, for instance, was demonstrated when he obeyed the outward command to sacrifice Isaac, despite natural reason and apparent contradictions.

The Spirit speaks to the churches through the external written Word—Revelation 2:11—"He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches.” That is not some inner word unique to each heart, but the Spirit speaking through written Scripture.

So we are bound to obey and believe based solely on God's outward Word—His revealed Law and Gospel—because it alone lays a binding claim on our conscience and is the appointed means of grace and reformation. To reject this for an “inward word” is not piety but the error of Familists and Antinomians.

It is not the Word alone that effectually produces obedience. Unless the Spirit of grace works with both the written and preached Law and Gospel, we cannot truly obey. Antinomians wrongly claim that obedience flowing from the outward, written command is legalistic or hypocritical, while only obedience stirred by the Spirit is genuine.

This is a serious error.

Indeed, the Word alone, without the Spirit, cannot bring new life. But it does not follow that the Spirit works apart from the written Word. The Spirit uses the Word as the means of renewing the heart.

It is equally false to claim, as Del does, that the Word and Spirit are always joined in the Gospel. If that were true, then all who hear the Gospel would be saved. But Scripture teaches the opposite—many hear the Gospel without faith and are hardened, and the Gospel becomes a means of their condemnation, just as the Law does.

Del also teaches a dangerous Libertine idea—that the Spirit reforms us by removing all evil from the flesh in justification, making us like angels, as if sin no longer dwells in us in this life. He further claims that the Spirit transforms the flesh into itself, like fire changing everything it touches into fire.

But what does he mean by “flesh”?

If he means sinful human nature, then he’s implying that sin becomes spiritual and holy—something no Scripture supports.

If he means the physical body, then he must believe justification turns our bodies into spirits, like the New England Familists who claimed believers have two bodies. This too is absurd.

If he means the soul, he’s speaking heresy. Scripture never says the Spirit turns our spirit into “Spirit.” The Spirit dwells in our spirits and sanctifies us, but He does not turn us into divine essence.

Familists do teach that we came from God’s essence and will return to it, being transformed into God himself. But this is pantheistic error. Libertines use this to deny the bodily resurrection. If by “flesh,” Del means our sinless nature, then he is dangerously close to the errors found in Theologia Germanica and The Bright Star, which twist God’s truth and obscure the distinction between Creator and creature.

Chapter LXXXV

Libertines and Antinomians Draw Near One Another in Making God the Author of Sin

Parallel XVI

The Libertines taught that all things—good or evil—happen by the will of God. From this they concluded that rebukes and exhortations are unnecessary, and that we ought simply to forgive one another’s sins and bear with one another’s weaknesses. Their reasoning was: “To the pure, all things are pure,” and “he who is cleansed is wholly acceptable to God.” Therefore, the only caution is not to offend a fellow believer, for Scripture says, “Love your neighbor” and “Do not seek revenge.”

From this principle, Pocquius, a known Libertine, concluded: Do not rebuke others for sin, since it is God's will that it happened. Similarly, Bullinger recounts an incident from 1526, where two brothers, Thomas Schykerus and Leonard, spent a night in an enthusiastic gathering of Anabaptists. Thomas ordered Leonard to kneel before him. When others tried to stop him, Thomas replied with the Libertine maxim: Nothing should be feared, for nothing can happen apart from the Father’s will. Then he beheaded his own brother, claiming the day of the Lord had come and that God’s will was fulfilled. He was rightly executed by the magistrate.

But such reasoning—appealing to God’s sovereign will to justify sin—completely misses the mark.

God’s decree does not excuse sin, nor does it eliminate the need for rebuke or the call to avoid evil. God’s revealed will in Scripture—not His secret decree—is the standard by which we must live. To rebuke sin is not an act of hatred or revenge, but of love and fidelity to God’s Word.

The Libertine and Antinomian Denial of Responsibility for Sin

The Libertines and Familists in New England hold that no one should be exhorted to believe unless it is known that they are elect or have the Spirit already working in them. According to them, we should not pray against what is inevitable—nor even pray against all sin. Antinomians draw close to this view. For instance, Dr. Crisp and Mr. Archer both discourage believers from being troubled or dismayed over their sins. Their reasoning, if carried through, would apply just as much to unbelievers: since everything—including sin—falls under God’s providential care and eternal grace, why fear or grieve over sin at all?

By this logic, sin would neither be something to avoid nor something to rebuke. If all sorrow, sin, and change come from God, then being troubled by sin would seem a rejection of God’s will. Mr. Archer goes so far as to say that God's will is the very womb from which every action—good or bad—comes forth. Moreover, he claims that all that befalls the believer, even sin and sorrow, proceeds from God's powerful decree, grounded in eternal love and the covenant of grace.

Similarly, Mr. Del, in dismissing all outward reformation, says, I do not doubt the Church’s reformation, because Christ has taken it upon Himself, and no power on earth can help Him, nor can hell hinder Him. Therefore, he warns Parliament not to build the Temple—reasoning that since God alone can reform the Church, human involvement is unnecessary. But by this same reasoning, he should also refrain from preaching, since no one can resist God’s decree.

Antinomians also assert that men are justified, pardoned, and saved even before they believe—without faith—simply because they were unconditionally elected to glory. This implies that God has ordained the end (salvation), but the means (faith, repentance) might be unnecessary. It denies the biblical truth that many fail to enter God's rest because of unbelief (Heb. 3:19). Their view treats sin as something morally indifferent, entirely determined by God’s will—as if sin itself were conceived in the womb of divine sovereignty, as Mr. Archer puts it.

Chapter LXXXVI

Libertines and Antinomians Argue We Should Do Nothing, Since God Does Everything

Paral. XVII

The Libertines taught that apart from God, all people are nothing, and everything we do or know is vanity. From this, they concluded that we must deny ourselves entirely and do nothing—believing instead that God alone works all things in us and for us, and that all should be attributed to Him. This led them to say we may live as we please.

Saltmarsh echoes this thinking. He claims that all the commands related to sanctification simply show that Christ is all in all. According to him, Christ has already believed, repented, grieved over sin, and mortified sin perfectly on our behalf. Therefore, we are but dead, passive creatures—like blocks of wood—and the Spirit alone acts within us. As such, he implies we should not act at all. This line of reasoning would make God the author even of sins of omission.

The Familists express similar ideas, frequently saying things like: I receive nothing from the creature; I can do nothing. Their teaching leads to spiritual passivity, excusing disobedience under the pretense of exalting divine sovereignty. But this is to distort grace and deny the active role God calls us to play in sanctification and obedience.

Chapter LXXXVII

Antinomians Accuse Us of Reducing the Spirit’s Work to Moral Philosophy

Antinomians wrongly accuse us of making the work of the Spirit gross and carnal, saying our theology resembles mere moral philosophy. Saltmarsh claims that unlike us, they do not base regeneration on outward signs or feelings of flesh and blood, but seek the Spirit’s inner impressions. He accuses us of describing regeneration like philosophers describe moral virtues.

Let us examine whether their so-called spiritual divinity is truly spiritual. We hold that it is deeply carnal to say, as Eaton does, that an unjustified man who merely believes his sins are taken away by Christ is as sinless as Christ himself. Or that for a believer, nothing is sin. This is blasphemy. Can one truly say that lying, adultery, or denying Christ are not sins for believers?

If God no longer sees drunkenness or theft in believers as sin, then are they no longer sins at all? If believers must view their sins as no longer sinful, simply because God justifies them, then confessing those sins would be falsehood. For how can someone say, "I have sinned," if God says it is no sin?

Antinomians also teach that to grieve over pardoned sin is unbelief, and that regeneration means we no longer see sin in ourselves. They claim it was Adam and Eve’s sin to see their sin, and that the Pharisees’ guilt in John 9 was that they acknowledged their blindness. These are the teachings of Pocquius, Saltmarsh, Eaton, Town, Den, and Crisp. Their doctrine says that once we believe, our sins—no matter how grievous—are no longer sins in God’s sight, nor to our faith. These supposed sins, they say, are only sins to the senses, to our flesh, and to other people.

This is not new. It was the same objection made by the worst of the Anabaptists in Bullinger’s day, who dismissed the Reformation as shallow and unspiritual. Thomas Muncer and his followers claimed that their writings were more spiritual than those of Luther or Zwingli, and that true reformation had to be higher and deeper.

But the way of the Spirit, rightly understood, has some likeness to moral virtue in these three ways:

4. The Superiority of Reformed Spiritual Theology Over Antinomianism and Moralism

We affirm that true spiritual theology, unlike the doctrines of Antinomians and Moralists, rests on divine grace and the supernatural work of God.

Finally, Saltmarsh nearly blasphemes when he compares the Spirit’s work in giving assurance to fleshly feelings. The Spirit assures us that we have passed from death to life because we love the brethren (1 John 3:14)—something flesh and blood cannot confirm. This spiritual knowledge is given by the Spirit whom the world cannot receive (1 Cor. 2:12).

Chapter LXXXVIII

That We Are Both Righteous in God's Sight, and Yet Sinners in Ourselves: A Refutation of Antinomian Error

Antinomians deny that a person can be both righteous in the sight of God and yet still a sinner in themselves. To a point, they are right—one cannot both be justified by Christ’s imputed righteousness and at the same time not justified. That would be a contradiction.

However, they err by claiming that if a person is justified, then they are no longer sinners in any real sense—not even in themselves. They insist that once we are made righteous in God’s sight, we are just as sinless as Christ, and thus can no longer be called sinners at all. This is not only false, but dangerous.

Scripture teaches otherwise.

Yet Paul also affirms in Romans 3 that all have sinned. “There is none righteous, no not one.” David, even as a justified man, still sinned. He was not under the dominion of sin, yet sin still dwelled in him.

Antinomians cannot claim David sinned only before conversion, because Paul uses David as an example of a justified believer. To say David was “as sinless as Christ,” as Dr. Crisp and Eaton claim, is blasphemous and lends strength to the Roman Catholic argument against the doctrine of imputed righteousness.

Yet at the same time, there was no one—even the justified—who could claim sinlessness. “There is not a just man on earth who does good and does not sin” (Eccl. 7:20). “Who can say, ‘I have made my heart clean, I am pure from my sin’?” (Prov. 20:9). Even Job, the most upright man on earth, said his own garments would defile him (Job 9:30–31).

So, it is clear: we are, by God’s grace, righteous before Him through Christ, while still being sinners in ourselves. Sin no longer reigns, but it still remains.

To say sanctification is only a declaration before men, not a real inward work, contradicts the end of redemption, which calls us to holiness. Antinomians, like Eaton, claim that if sanctification is more than a mere outward declaration, we fall into the Roman Catholic error of making good works part of our justification. But this is a confusion of categories.

Rome says our inherent righteousness justifies us before God, even apart from Christ. We utterly reject this. We confess that our sanctification is pleasing to God only in Christ, and is required of us by God’s command—not as a cause of justification, but as its necessary fruit.

Antinomians, by contrast, treat all acts of sanctification as optional—acts of mere courtesy, not obligation. If omitted, they say it is no sin. If performed, they say they are no more pleasing to God than acts of gross sin. But Scripture teaches otherwise. Our obedience matters to God—not to justify us, but to honor Him.

Master Eaton objects—wrongly—that if believers are still sinners in themselves, then God would be placing them in two contradictory states at once: saved and condemned, members of Christ and members of the Devil. He further claims that if sin still dwells in us, then the blood of Christ has failed to cleanse us from all sin. These arguments, like many others from his party, reflect confusion and weak theology.

Answer: Scripture uses the word sinner in two senses.

Antinomians deny this. They claim that the justified have no sin at all, since Christ has washed away all sin. But they confuse two things:

Justification removes sin’s guilt, not its presence. Our sins are pardoned, cast into the depths of the sea, but that does not mean we are completely rid of sin’s presence. That would be sanctification, which grows by degrees and remains incomplete until glorification.

So, when we say a believer is still a sinner, we do not mean he is ruled by sin. Sin no longer reigns in him, but it still resides in him. He is not under Satan’s dominion, but neither is he yet perfected in holiness. This does not make him both condemned and justified, but rather justified in Christ, and still sinful in himself, though that sin is subdued and pardoned.

Thus, Christ fully accomplishes His purpose in redemption:

Christ can dwell in the heart by faith even where sin remains, so long as sin does not reign. God sees the believer as righteous in Christ, though still sinful in himself. He imputes righteousness and does not count sin against us.

This is the clear and consistent teaching of the prophets and apostles in Scripture.

Chapter LXXXIX

Antinomians Are Ignorant of True Faith, Believing Their Sins Are No Sins at All

Antinomians claim that faith means believing the opposite of what we see in ourselves—especially when it comes to sin. They say that if God has declared us clean, then we must believe our sins—though they appear real—are actually nothing in God’s sight. Thus, lying, adultery, oppression, and other evils committed by the justified are, according to them, not sins at all, but nullities in the court of heaven. They argue that faith is believing what contradicts sense and reason, simply because God has said it.

But this is not biblical faith—it is a false, lifeless, and dangerous distortion.

If adultery is not truly sin, then the justified person has no reason to avoid the path that leads to it. According to Antinomians, to think otherwise is a delusion of reason. But Scripture teaches that even the approach of sin is dangerous and to be feared. Their view undermines all true warnings and moral restraint, leaving the justified free to indulge sin without fear or repentance.

In short, Antinomian faith—if it can be called that—denies the reality of sin, the necessity of confession, the value of repentance, and the work of the Holy Spirit in sanctifying the believer. It is not faith at all, but a counterfeit that leaves the soul exposed to error and ungodliness under the false cloak of grace.

Chapter XC

Antinomians Remove the Obligation of Obedience from Both the Converted and Unconverted

Antinomians protest loudly against the preaching of duties, labeling it a "Legal way" and claiming it undermines the true preaching of Christ and faith.

But this is a grave error. Our inability to do good without grace does not remove the obligation to do our duty. In fact, omitting these duties is a greater sin than attempting them imperfectly. Otherwise, the unconverted would not sin in failing to give to the poor—since they can’t do it from pure motives; or in refusing to pray—because they can’t pray in faith. Yet Peter told Simon Magus to pray, even though he was in the gall of bitterness and lacked saving faith (Acts 8).

Chapter XCI

How, and for Whom, Christ Intercedes in Heaven

Antinomians claim that Christ intercedes at God’s right hand not only for believers but also for the unconverted elect. They argue that Christ does not intercede for the application of redemption to the elect, but only for the manifestation of it.

It is true that Christ’s redemption was purchased for the elect, both converted and unconverted. But Antinomians wrongly assume that sinners are justified and pardoned before they believe and are converted. Scripture, however, teaches that Christ’s intercession is directly tied to the application of redemption—not merely its provision.

We do not deny that Christ regards the elect differently even before their conversion. He keeps for them a fountain of cleansing and will certainly call them, in due time, to grace and glory. But His present intercession is for the believing, not the unbelieving.

Chapter XCII

Antinomians Promote Assurance but Deny Dependent Faith

Antinomians emphasize the necessity of assurance in faith and teach that every person commanded to believe should be fully persuaded that God loves them with an everlasting love. They assert that no one should question whether they believe, any more than they should question the truth of the Gospel or Christ Himself.

In this, they align with the Libertines—promoting a faith of full assurance, while denying any kind of dependent faith, as though justification does not involve trusting and leaning on God through Christ.

But Scripture most often describes saving faith as a dependence upon the Lord. For example:

2. Faith Exists Even Without Full Assurance

Many true believers trust in Christ without having full assurance that they are elect or that they possess faith. They may struggle with doubt and still have saving faith.

Even faint faith is still faith, if it clings to Christ. A crying faith—though mixed with doubt—is real. A silent faith, that never calls upon God, is no faith at all. Consider Jonah 2:4: “Then I said, I am cast out of thy sight; yet I will look again toward thy holy temple.”

Chapter XCIII

Antinomians Deny the Law as an Instrument of Sanctification

Antinomians teach that the Law plays no role in sanctification—that only the Gospel is used for that purpose. Their main reason is this: the Law commands but gives no grace, while the Gospel, they claim, is joined with the Spirit and ministers righteousness. According to Del, the words of Christ are "Spirit and life" because they both come from the Spirit and carry the Spirit with them. In contrast, he claims the Law is merely a letter—an outward word—void of the Spirit.

But this comparison is flawed. Antinomians contrast the Law in its condemning form (as in the hand of Moses) with the Gospel empowered by the Spirit and applied only to the elect. Naturally, when the Law is viewed only as cursing and void of grace, and the Gospel is seen in its Spirit-filled effectiveness, it seems that the Gospel alone sanctifies.

However, if we compare the letter of both Law and Gospel—apart from the Spirit—then the distinction breaks down. It's true: the Gospel promises a new heart and righteousness, while the Law, as Law, does not. But the letter of the Gospel, on its own, does not impart grace any more than the letter of the Law. Grace is given only when the Gospel is joined with the Spirit in the hearts of the elect.

Antinomians wrongly imagine that the mere letter of the Gospel is always “Spirit and life.” Yet Scripture shows that, to many, even the Gospel is a “savor of death unto death” (2 Cor. 2:16). Both Law and Gospel, without the Spirit, can result in death—because of our sin and unbelief.

But there is this difference: the Gospel contains promises of grace and a new heart; the Law does not. Still, the Law—when wielded by Christ and accompanied by the Spirit—becomes a pedagogue to lead us to Christ (Gal. 3:24). It convicts, humbles, and points us to our need for the Savior. In that way, it serves as a subordinate instrument in our sanctification. Though it is not the same as the Gospel, it is not useless—it has a God-appointed role in bringing sinners to holiness.

The Law Is a True, Though Subordinate, Instrument of Sanctification

FINIS.

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A Modest Survey of the Secrets of Antinomianismn, by Samuel Rutherford. Copyright © 2025

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