Dr. Derek Cooper

First of all, tell us about yourself.
I am a native Texan who has managed to find himself living in suburban Philadelphia for the past decade! I have been married for almost ten years, and I have three young children. I teach biblical studies and historical theology at Biblical Seminary in suburban Philadelphia. Most recently, I have been working part-time as a pastor at a local church.

In any spare time I have, I enjoy writing. I wrote my first book to help those who are thinking about going to seminary or who have just started. It’s called So You’re Thinking about Going to Seminary (Brazos Press). My other writings focus on church history and biblical interpretation.

I’d like to ask you from the get-go, why is Thomas Manton worthy of our readers’ attention and investment of time and money?
I’ve always found the writings of the Puritans to be deeply rewarding as a Christian. Once you get past their sometimes dense prose, you meet people who are godly, intelligent, personable, and entertaining to read. Thomas Manton is no exception. He was a fantastic preacher and writer, and his images and analogies are as lively today as they were several centuries ago.

What’s more, Manton was actually a very prominent figure within his context. He was actively involved in one of the most significant and intriguing times in all of English history (1640s-1660s), and was friendly with the most well-connected and well-to-do people in all of England.

So how did you come to be interested in Thomas Manton?
I was working on my PhD a few years ago, and was hoping to write my dissertation on an English pietist or puritan who wrote biblical commentaries on the New Testament. After reading the works of several authors, I came across Thomas Manton. I really appreciated his writing, his use of the biblical text, his familiarity with previous commentators, and his importance within his time period.

Can you give us The Idiots’ Guide to the 17th-century context in which Manton ministered?
Thomas Manton lived during an extraordinary time in English history. Manton was just getting started with his career in the midst of the amazing events in the 1640s, 50s, and 60s. Here’s a brief snap shot: England was in the midst of a civil war, which carried on for several years—and which forced Manton to eventually relocate to London. Eventually an army formed (the New Model Army) that physically removed about 200 members of Parliament, the culmination of which was the arrest and condemnation of the king. King Charles I was beheaded in 1649! Then Oliver Cromwell, before whom Manton served as one of many chaplains, took control of the state for almost a decade. After Cromwell died, Manton himself traveled to Holland with others to negotiate with Charles I’s son, Charles II—who had been in hiding—to return to England. After he did so in 1660, a spate of legislative acts was passed by the new Parliament to remove those who had been opposed to the monarchy. Although Manton and many other presbyterians were in favor of the monarchy, they were opposed to new laws that required pastors to be (re-) ordained by a bishop, to abide completely by the Book of Common Prayer, and to agree fully with the Thirty-Nine Articles of Religion. In all, about 25% of ordained clergy in the Church of England (including Manton) were ejected from their positions in 1662 for refusing to sign on to the new legislation. Manton lived in the midst of these (tumultuous) economic, political, and religious times.

On that note, what sort of relationship did Manton have with John Owen?
Owen and Manton knew each other well, but my interpretation of the data leads me to believe that they may not have been the best of friends. They had disagreements about the nature of the church, which could be very intense at times. In short, Manton was a presbyterian who wanted the church to be affiliated with the English state, while Owen was an independent who wanted the church to be separate from the English state.

After the Restoration of the monarchy in 1660, the English Parliament made laws that prohibited pastors like Manton from preaching. Manton spent the last years of his life working very hard to reunite with the English church, while Owen did not want to see this happen. This was the reason for their disagreements.

Who were Manton’s models and mentors? In other words, how did he become who he was, humanly speaking?
That’s difficult to know for sure. The politician Alexander Popham was Manton’s patron (as well as the patron of Manton’s more famous contemporary John Locke), and Manton would have presumably been influenced by his tutor at Wadham College, Oxford, and perhaps one or more of his professors. It’s also likely that the well-known clergyman Edmund Calamy as well as Rev. Obadiah Sedgwick, whom Manton succeeded as rector of St. Paul’s, Covent Garden, in the 1650s, would have served as models or mentors. Manton also worked closely with Richard Baxter in the latter part of his life, who was several years older than Manton.

What are some of Manton’s most important works?
All of Manton’s works are essentially sermons that he preached over his career. These works are available in a 22-volume collection, many of which are available online. It’s generally agreed that Manton’s commentary on James is one of his best writings. He also wrote partial commentaries on other books of the Bible.

Is there a work of his that is overlooked but should not be?
Many of his writings are hidden gems that few people bring to light. I really enjoy a series of ten sermons he preached on one very small passage: “And Isaac went out to meditate in the field in the evening” (Genesis 24:63)! The sermon series is about Christian meditation, which I found to be very helpful as I was reading through it.

Tell us about some of the key features of his theology?
Manton was a typical puritan pastor and theologian, which meant that he emphasized Christ, godliness, practical living, prayer, and biblical study. He was less interested in abstract theology, and more concerned about people being transformed by the gospel of Christ. In his sermons, as was the custom, he divides his interpretation of the biblical text into doctrinal and application-oriented sections.

More practically, what were Manton’s daily disciplines?
On a daily basis Manton would have prayed extensively and completed Bible study alone, as well as prayed and done devotions with his family.

What can we learn from his daily spiritual disciplines?
The time period in which we live is much faster than the world in which Thomas Manton lived. This lifestyle leads us to the false notion that we do not have time—nor the patience, as we are not accustomed to slowing down—to let God take care of the hustle and bustle of life long enough for us to sit quietly before God in prayer and study. This is one of the many things we can learn from puritans like Manton.

Tell us why you think there hasn’t been a full biography of Manton published in the past?
Thomas Manton is just one of many great puritan authors whose life stories have been overlooked. William Harris wrote a short biography of Manton’s life to serve as a preface to the publication of Manton’s works about 150 years ago, but no one has written much more about Manton since then. For the most part, people have focused their attention on more well-known puritans like John Bunyan, John Owen, and Richard Baxter.

Is there any listing of Manton’s auction library?
Certainly! I have a copy of the auction of Manton’s complete library. Unfortunately, due to all the religious and political turmoil going on during the end of Manton’s lifetime, he died without any money. So, in order to provide for his wife and children, his entire library was auctioned off immediately after his death. He had an extensive library, which would have been quite valuable. Of the hundreds of books he owned, many consisted of biblical commentaries, English divinity, pamphlets, classical Greek and Latin texts, and works of theology.

Has the recent reprinting of Manton’s works escaped the problems inherent in 19th century “over-editing” of Puritan works?
When reading through Manton’s sermons, the work of editors—for good or ill—is sometimes apparent. In addition, as was quite normal, Manton did not actually write down the words that we now have. Instead, people in the audience wrote down his words. At the same time, though, I am confident that the style and wording that we have are Manton’s and not someone else’s.

Why/how did Puritans like Manton know Jewish rabbinical writings so well?
Puritans like Manton had extraordinary educations. Before beginning university, they were already familiar with classical languages and literature. At the university, they continued their study and were introduced to even more opportunities for advanced learning. Manton, who studied at Oxford, had the best education available at his time. He eventually received a Bachelor of Arts, a Bachelor of Divinity, and a Doctor of Divinity.

Also, it’s important to note that Henry VIII had appointed Hebrew professors at both Oxford and Cambridge since the 1540s. The puritans were some of the first Christians in Europe to be able to study Hebrew and rabbinic texts. Some Christians during this time studied with Jewish rabbis to learn Hebrew and rabbinic interpretations, and textual and linguistic interest in Oriental languages flourished in the 1600s. For instance, several Polyglot Bibles, which contained side-by-side translations of the Bible in multiple languages (including Oriental languages like Hebrew and Aramaic), appeared regularly in the 1500-1600s. One of the most learned Orientalists and rabbinical scholars was John Lightfoot, a puritan and contemporary of Thomas Manton. He wrote detailed commentaries on the New Testament from the perspective of (Jewish) rabbinical literature. The auction list from Manton’s library indicates that Manton possessed more than 30 books related to rabbinic or Jewish literature. It’s not uncommon when reading through Manton’s sermons on Old Testament texts for him to make reference to Hebrew words and Jewish interpretations.

Thank you, Dr. Cooper. We look forward to your popular introduction to Manton in the near future.

• The Pneumatology of the “Lost” Image in John Owen—Suzanne McDonald
• A Practical Scholasticism? Edward Leigh’s Theological Method—James E. Dolezal
• Samuel Rutherford and Liberty of Conscience—Crawford Gribben
• Marrow Theology and Secession Church History—William VanDoodewaard
• Review of Stephen Hampton, Anti-Arminian: The Anglican Reformed Tradition from Charles II to George I—Kenneth J. Stewart

Tolle Lege.

Notice the similarities. First, from “Of Christ the Mediator”:

Now the next thing to be considered is, how this motion takes with Christ’s heart, which his Father makes, and what he says to it, how he answers it again, and how willingly. And this is as necessary as the former; for besides that it could not be forced on him; for, John v. 26, ‘the Father hath given him to have life in himself, and so to have power over his life.’ John X. 18, ‘I have power over my life, and none can take it from me.’ Besides that, if it came not of him freely, it had not been satisfactory; for satisfactio est redditio voluntaria, it must be a voluntary payment; and as our disobedience was free, so must his satisfaction be. Though he had at last yielded, yet if he sticks at it we are undone, if he makes but an objection. And is it not infinite love he should not, being he was the party to undergo so much debasement?

How did the eldest son’s stomach rise, when but the fat calf was killed for the prodigal? But the eldest, only begotten Son of God, must sacrifice himself for enemies (not the sacrificing of worlds would serve, whereof he could have created enough), and yet not a thought did arise contrary to the Father’s will. So his own words, in answer to the former call of his Father, do shew, ‘Lo, I have come to do thy will, O God,’ Heb. x.7. The Psalmist, from whence the words are borrowed, hath it, ‘I delight to do thy will,’ Ps. xl. 8. ‘Lo, I come’ (says Christ); I am as ready, as forward, O God, as thou to have me; not willing only, but glad; I delight to do thy will. As the sun rejoiceth to run his race, so the Sun of righteousness to run his, for he was ‘anointed with the oil of gladness above his fellows,’ Ps. xlv. 7. He was as glad to do this work as ever he was to eat his meat: John iv. 34, ‘Jesus saith unto them, My meat is to do the will of him that sent me, and to finish his work.’ ‘With desire’ (saith he) ‘have I desired it’: Luke xxii. 15, ‘And he said unto them, With desire I have desired to eat this passover with you before I suffer.’ He longed as much, and was as much pained, as ever woman with child longed to be delivered, till this work was accomplished. Luke xii. 50, ‘But I have a baptism to be baptized with, and how am I straitened till it be accomplished.’ Christ the Mediator, Works, 5:24

Alright then, now notice that Goodwin uses essentially the same wording in his sermon upon Heb. X, 4-7 called “The One Sacrifice.” I would also like to point out that the similarities are even more obvious in the 1691-1704 edition of Goodwin’s Works because the Nichols editors were rather free in their editing. Hence, there are a few differences in these comparisons that are not in the original edition.

Now then, the second thing remains, how the motion takes with Christ, which his Father makes to him, which was as necessary as the former. For besides that, it could not have been forced on him; for John v. 26, the Father hath given him life in himself, and so to have power over his life: John x.18, ‘I have power over my life, and none can take it from me.’ I say besides, that if it come not off freely, it had not been satisfactory; satisfactio est redditio voluntaria. Our disobedience was free, so must his satisfaction be, ‘ a free will offering of himself.’ God stands more upon the will than the deed; as a kindness is spoked in the doing if it be unwillingly done, so would his satisfaction be. This therefore is another difficulty, and but that his Father struck in so, likely to have been greater than the former. Though he had at last yielded. yet if he sticks as it we are undone; if he makes but one objection, we perish. And is it not infinite love that he should not, being the party to undergo such debasement?

How did the eldest son’s stomach rise when but the fatted calf was killed for the prodigal? But he, the eldest, only begotten Son, must sacrifice himself (worlds would not serve, whereof he could have created enough) for enemies. but not a thought arose contrary to his Father’s will. So his own words in the text shew, ‘Lo, I have come to do thy will, O God,’ The Psalm, from whence the words are borrowed, Ps. xl. 8., hath it, ‘I delight to do thy will. As the sun rejoiceth to run his race, so the Sun of righteousness to run his, for he was ‘anointed with the oil of gladness above his fellows,’ Ps. xlv. 7. As glad as ever he was to eat his meat: John iv. 34, ‘With desire have I desired it,’ yea, and longed as much pain as ever woman with child longed to be delivered, Luke xii. 50. Sermon on Heb. X.4-7, Works, 5:497.

There are a number of small differences and omissions/additions. But, generally, the wording is the same, the Latin phrase is the same, and the proof-texts are the same. I wonder how common it was for writers to simply copy from other places in their writings? By the way, in the original Works (1691-1704), Goodwin does not cite his own work.

“Assertion of Liberty of Conscience by the Independents in the Westminster Assembly of Divines, 1644.”

Painted by John Rogers Herbert, RA, ca. 1844.

This may surprise some, but it needs to be said that for the most part Calvin’s theology was not original.  At least, he did not wish to view himself that way.  On some doctrines he did make unique contributions, namely, the Son’s aseity and Christ’s “descent” into Hell. Interestingly, both of these contributions produced a firestorm of debate among his successors in the 16^th and 17^th centuries, particularly at the Westminster Assembly.

The Protestant scholastic, Johannes Maccovius, used more careful scholastic language to speak about the Son as autotheos than Calvin.  Not only, then, did Roman Catholics take serious issue with Calvin on the Son’s aseity, but even Reformed theologians.  Of course, Maccovius preserved Calvin’s teaching, but he used language that would overcome the objections of those who denied Calvin’s position.

The “Calvin versus the Calvinists” debate has received a lot of attention in recent historiography.  Several scholars have recently argued that one of the problems concerning the “Calvin against the Calvinists” thesis was the error of making Calvin the norm for reading the later Reformed tradition.  This methodology had disastrous consequences for the conclusions of scholars like Alan Clifford and R.T. Kendall.

We might even argue that the response to Clifford and Kendall was wrong-headed.  The answer was not to posit a “Calvin for the Calvinists”.  In fact, not even a “Calvin for and against the Calvinists”.  The truth is that scholarship has given Calvin a prominence that almost reduces men like Vermigli to the status of Calvin’s inferior.  That was just not the case.

In connection with this, the Dutch theologian, Gisbertus Voetius, disliked the term “Calvinist”.  He preferred the term “Reformed Catholic.”  The same could be said for William Perkins.  From what I am told, Jonathan Edwards only used the term grudgingly.

An interesting way of rectifying the sorts of problems that I’ve highlighted would be to discuss the issue of how variegated Reformed orthodoxy was in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.  What their differences were remains as important as what their commonalities were.

Besides jettisoning the term “Calvinism”, I believe we should do-away with notion of making the “five points” synonymous with Calvinism or Reformed theology.  As Richard Muller has argued: “How Many Points?”

Related to this, many think one can only be a Calvinist if they hold to the “five points of Calvinism”.  However, Reformed theology was more complex than the “five points” suggest.  As several scholars have noted, the Hypothetical Universalists – e.g. the brilliant, John Preston – represented a trajectory within Reformed orthodoxy.  The real question about the atonement has to do with its nature.  As you know, the Arminians ended up changing the nature of the atonement so that it was consistent with their views of its extent.  Substitution was jettisoned in favor of versions of the Grotian theory (or versions of what we call the governmental theory).

Today we simply make it a question of “limited atonement” versus “unlimited atonement”.  This is a stupid (and annoying) way of formulating the debate.  First, what was the precise nature of the atonement? How does the atonement relate to God’s decree or the pactum salutis.  What about the inseparable relation of the Spirit to the death of Christ?

Finally, as an example of theological development and terminological change, we might look at the doctrine of regeneration.  Calvin had a broader understanding of the term than later Reformed theologians.  The narrowing of the term took place in reaction to the claims of Arminius and his followers; hence, we see in the Canons of Dordt a particular emphasis on the “one-time” monergistic work of the Spirit in order to combat the Arminians who were happy with much of Calvin’s language, but not happy with the irresistibility of the Spirit which had been a hallmark of Reformed orthodoxy.

Calvin certainly understood the idea to signify more than an aspect of the ordo salutis.  For him, it incorporated many aspects of the whole Christian life (Institutes, III.3.9).  Hodge remarked that “Calvin gives the term its widest scope” (Systematic Theology, 3.3).  That is not to say, of course, that Calvin denies the doctrine as it has been typically understood, that is, as an instantaneous “bringing to life from the dead”.  For example, Calvin writes:  “[The Spirit] regenerates us and makes us to be new creatures” (Institutes, II.2.27).  But he was not content with such a narrow view of the doctrine.  Regeneration is akin to sanctification insofar as “it is a renewal of the divine image in us” (Ibid, III.17.5).  Importantly, though he understands regeneration to encompass sanctification, “God only regenerates the elect with incorruptible seed forever” (Ibid, II.13.2).

There is also a good deal of evidence that the early English Puritans (I’m using this term very loosely) had a very elastic view of regeneration.  Perkins, for example, understood John 3:5 to incorporate sanctification (Foundation of Christian Religion, 278).

The narrowing of the term was a result of the theological controversies that led up to the Synod of Dordt in the early seventeenth century.  The Arminians used Reformed language in describing their views, but they denied explicitly the irresistibility of the Spirit’s work; rather, it was “a gentle advising”.  They were happy with Calvin’s language regarding regeneration as it pertained to the Christian life, but they were not happy with the Reformed view of “irresistibility”.

Maccovius was responsible for restricting the term regeneration, which had hitherto been more elastic in meaning, in order to uphold a monergistic view of the Spirit’s working (see Kuyper, The Work of the Holy Spirit, 293).  From this point on, the Reformed doctrine of regeneration was, in a sense, distinguished from sanctification while at the same time it was understood that one necessarily led to the other.