Contentment During a Civil War

Literally.

Feb 11, 2023

In a week when politics in the Church of England are at their stormiest for a long time, it usually helps to think back to a time when they were even more tempestuous. It’s hard to think of a more volatile time than the 1640s. A civil war raged across all three Kingdoms of The British Isles, killing tens of thousands and leaving far more starving, destitute and bereaved. Not only was King Charles I executed, but also the Archbishop of Canterbury, William Laud (see pic) on Tower Hill on 10^th January 1645.

This event is much overlooked by secular historians who continually frame The English Civil War as an irreconcilable political and constitutional dispute. This view reflects the attitudes of our own age, rather than that of the Seventeenth Century. Historians cannot imagine that the mild-mannered Brits would take up arms over religion. And yet that is precisely what happened.

Throwing the Stool

After all, the first shots were fired in a cathedral on 23^rd July 1637. The shots weren’t made of lead but wood. The projectile was a stool flung by a thirty-something woman called Jenny Geddes. She was incensed and appalled that the minister should try to read from the new liturgy in the Book of Common Prayer at St Giles’ Cathedral in Edinburgh.

In England, there had been decades of dispute about clerical robes, prayer books, bishops, predestination and how to spend one’s time on The Lord’s Day. The puritans simply couldn’t understand why anyone who called themselves a follower of Christ would wish to do anything on a Sunday other than worship Him, sing His praises, hear His word and feast with His people. Doesn’t that sound good?

Throwing the Book

Apparently not. In 1633, King Charles I re-issued the Book of Sports, originally published by his father, King James I, in 1618, which declared all the activities permitted on a Sunday which included archery, dancing, “leaping, vaulting, or any other such harmless recreation” as permissible sports, together with “May-games, Whitsun-ales and Morris-dances, and the setting up of May-poles”. All clergy were compelled to read the book aloud or be deprived of their position. Back in 1618, the original version of this liturgical supplement had not landed well. In fact, “so strong was the opposition that [King James] prudently withdrew his command.”1

To us, it may be surprising that the Seventeenth Century produced wonderful works of theology and spiritual reflection. One such book that has blessed me greatly in the last few weeks has been The Rare Jewel of Christian Contentment by Jeremiah Burroughs. I’ve been listening to it as an audiobook. It’s astonishing, timeless and timely.

Perhaps the turmoil is the reason works by Burroughs’ fellow Puritans have stood the test of time. Their times forced them to dig extremely deeply into God’s word, his promises and his character in order to find contentment in God.

The times were not just perilous because of war, which was just another worry on top of the constant struggle to produce enough food and stay healthy. A serious infection or a bad harvest could be fatal. Many of your children would not make it to adulthood. Times were hard. But the religious war made everything even worse and more painful.

Yet these Puritans did not complain in shrill tones. They found their contentment in and with Christ, rather than in spite of Him. The words of the Apostle Paul in Philippians 4:11 became real to them: “for I have learned in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.” The Rare Jewel of Christian Contentment unpacks what this means, and how one is to find contentment in all things.

And Yet

It is easy to write off these puritans as schismatics who went their own way and ignored the rest. Some were so theologically implacable that when they sailed off to the New World, the good people of Plymouth waved them off and breathed a sigh of relief. (For more on this, read Steve Tomkins’ excellent Journey to the Mayflower).

Burroughs was suspended as rector of Tivetshall, Norfolk in 1636. After a short spell in Rotterdam, he returned to England in 1641 and served as preacher at Stepney and Cripplegate in London where he delivered sermons that turned into his Rare Jewel of Christian Contentment.

He was a member of the Westminster Assembly but was one of the Five Dissenting Brethren who put their names to the Independent manifesto, An Apologeticall Narration. It would be easy to wish this non-conformist to have jumped onto The Mayflower - and then off again, half way across the Atlantic.

But before Burroughs died in 1646, his last sermon, which he also published, was his Irenicum, or an Attempt to Heal the Divisions among Christian Professors. And the words written on his study door in Latin and Greek read, “Difference of belief and unity of believers are not inconsistent". Living by that statement seems a lot harder than throwing a stool at a terrified clergyman. And we seem unlikely to do that without supernatural wisdom and help.

What Just Happened

The events of the General Synod this past week make it hard to see how such unity could be retained. Although some points of view, methods of argumentation and exegesis were very alarming, we can be content that our differences were acknowledged to be so deep as to be irreconcilable. That, at least, is a blessing, as is the unity among those with the historic orthodox view, which was palpable and encouraging for those, like me, who were there.

What comes next is impossible to say. The uncertainty is very difficult. But thanks to Burroughs, who lived through harder times than me, I am learning to say, “for I have learned in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.”