6. The Marrow Controversy and Later Developments
The Marrow Controversy and Later Developments T his same debate flared up in 18th-century Scotland, sparked by the republication of The Marrow of Modern Divinity—a book from the 1600s that defended gospel clarity. Some church leaders feared it leaned toward antinomianism, but the deeper issue was that it challenged rising neonomian tendencies in Scottish theology. Critics of the Marrow, like
Principal Hadow, were orthodox in many respects, but their overcorrections opened the door to Arminian and even semi-Socinian views.
A similar shift occurred in New England theology when Jonathan Edwards rejected the immediate imputation of Adam's guilt and Christ's righteousness. Over time, this moved New England theology closer to the rationalist direction.
Faithful Gospel Clarity The true gospel neither casts off the law (as antinomianism does) nor places our justification on our own works (as neonomianism does). Instead, it upholds the law, magnifies Christ's perfect obedience, and calls sinners to
trust in Him alone. His righteousness is not only the ground of our acceptance with God—it is also the power by which we are transformed.
In every age, the church must remain watchful. Whether the danger comes from legalism or license, the remedy is always the same: Jesus Christ, our righteousness, our sanctifier, and our King.
The Decline of Reformation Clarity in the Netherlands Starting in the mid-1600s, the influence of Reformed theology in the Netherlands began to erode. A noticeable shift occurred away from the clear teaching of justification by faith alone—one of the central truths recovered in the Reformation.
One of the first to reflect this change was Johannes Vlak, a pastor in Zutphen from 1674 to 1690. Vlak introduced a distinction between two types of justification. The first, he said, was based entirely on the forgiveness of sins through Christ's death—a justification for sinners. But the second, he claimed, was for the godly: it depended on the believer's own obedience, empowered by the Holy Spirit, and it resulted in eternal life as a reward for good works. In effect, Vlak taught that justification was partly earned by our righteousness.
This drift became more pronounced with preachers like Anthony van den Os, who in the mid-1700s redefined Paul's teaching about "the righteousness of God." For him, it simply meant God's kind willingness to save sinners through Christ. Faith was reduced to a general trust in Jesus and obedience to His commands.
By the 18th century, this weakening of the gospel had spread through much of Dutch Reformed theology. A faithful minority, including men like
Holtius, Comrie, and Brahe, resisted these changes. They insisted that human works had no place in our justification and held fast to the historic
Reformed conviction that justification flows entirely from God's eternal decree and is grounded in the righteousness of Christ alone.
But their efforts were increasingly isolated. Even respected theology professors at Leiden—such as J. van den Honert and J. J. Schultens— rejected the teaching of Christ's righteousness being directly and immediately imputed to believers. They argued that faith must come before justification, subtly shifting the foundation away from Christ's finished work.
This new way of thinking found a clear voice in David Kleman, a pastor in Voorburg. He taught that God, in His wisdom and goodness, connects our moral efforts with the gift of faith. According to this view, those who make the best use of their natural abilities—especially when guided by the moral teachings of the gospel—can expect God to grant them saving grace. This made salvation seem like a reward for human effort, not a free gift rooted in God's sovereign mercy.
Holding Fast to the Gospel What was once a firm foundation—the righteousness of Christ imputed to us by grace alone, through faith alone—was gradually replaced by a view that mixed grace with human merit. But Scripture teaches that our hope is not in our own righteousness, no matter how sincere, but in the righteousness of Christ credited to us (Romans 4:5; Philippians 3:9).
Whenever the church forgets this truth, the glory of Christ is diminished, and the peace of believers is put at risk. Yet even in times of decline, God preserves a remnant who love His truth and proclaim His gospel.
Let us join them in holding fast to the pure doctrine of grace—not merely as a theological idea, but as the very lifeline of our souls.
Pietism and the Shift from Doctrine to Experience
In the wake of debates over faith and works, a different error quietly crept in. Some began to define salvation not by obedience or faith in Christ alone, but by personal spiritual experience. In this view, assurance of salvation rested not on God's promise, but on the strength of one's inner feelings.
From the earliest days, there were voices in the Reformed churches who reacted against academic theology. They longed for a simpler, more practical faith that shaped everyday life. Thinkers like Peter Ramus called theology "the doctrine of living well," urging believers to pursue a life of godliness over theoretical knowledge.
This practical emphasis influenced many throughout Europe—Perkins in England, Ames in the Netherlands, and others who described theology as the pursuit of a life lived unto God. Out of this movement arose a form of Pietism, rich in devotion but sometimes veering into introspection. Leaders like Witsius, Brakel, and Schortinghuis called people to genuine conversion, warning that being raised in a Christian home, baptized, and even doctrinally sound was not enough. True faith, they insisted, must arise from deep conviction of sin, fear of judgment, and heartfelt trust in Christ.
But here is where caution is needed: many began to teach that before a person could believe, they must pass through a certain sequence—first terror under the law, then conviction, then a "refuge-taking" faith. Full assurance, they claimed, might come much later, even through visions or supernatural impressions. While they rightly urged self-examination (2 Cor.
13:5), they often portrayed salvation as a narrow road filled with conditions few could meet. The result? Many were left paralyzed with doubt, fearing their faith was false.
They taught that the gospel was not for everyone—only for those who were already convicted and prepared by grace. Faith, they said, was only
possible for those the Spirit had first made bold enough to take the leap.
This emphasis made the simple act of trusting Christ seem rare and unreachable.
Yet Scripture tells us the gospel is a free invitation to all who hear it:
"Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest"
(Matt. 11:28). Christ is not distant or hard to reach. Salvation is not reserved for the spiritually elite—it is for sinners who come empty and trust in Christ's righteousness alone.
The Rise of Lutheran Pietism In Germany, a similar movement took shape. Philipp Spener, deeply troubled by cold orthodoxy, called people back to heartfelt religion. He emphasized the need for inner rebirth, not just church membership. Faith, he said, must arise through deep sorrow over sin, through intense struggle with Satan and the flesh, before peace could be found. This "struggle of repentance" was seen as the true path to saving faith.
For Spener, faith was not just belief—it was trust born out of spiritual battle. Such faith, once obtained, would then lead to a holy and separated life. But this again introduced a heavy burden: people sought signs, emotions, or extraordinary experiences to confirm their salvation. Only after long struggle did some feel assured.
One of Spener's followers, Count Zinzendorf, pushed back. He believed that constant self-examination and sorrow risked replacing the joy of the gospel with fear. True repentance, he taught, flows not from the law, but from the love of Christ—his wounds, his suffering, his blood. Faith, in this view, was more a matter of heartfelt affection than rational conviction. He emphasized union with Christ, not through analysis or effort, but through a sense of being loved and embraced by Him.
Summary: A Needed Correction, But a Cautionary Path These movements rightly grieved over lifeless religion and nominal
Christianity. They rekindled the call to live holy lives and trust Christ personally. But in doing so, they sometimes confused the fruit of faith with its foundation.
True faith is not measured by intensity of feeling or length of struggle. It is not earned through self-examination or sorrow. It is a gift from God, resting on His promise, received by empty hands. As Paul says, "To the one who does not work but believes in Him who justifies the ungodly, his faith is counted as righteousness" (Rom. 4:5).
Let us examine ourselves, yes—but not endlessly. Let us come to Christ as we are—needy, weary, sinful—and believe that He is enough. For the gospel is not a maze for the spiritually elite; it is the open door for all who believe (John 6:37).