Correcting Theologians

A Response to Brian Mattson

Within two months of its release, every major evangelical outlet published a review of my book The Case for Christian Nationalism. This is the first time in recent memory that an author outside the evangelical speaking circuit, with no institutional affiliations, and with few friends in high places has received such attention. These reviews, as to be expected, were largely negative, but this only adds to the strangeness of the attention. They all saw the need to review and denounce it. 

The book has risen to the level of dangerous, and so these negative reviews are largely not in the form of outlined, analytical disagreement. Rather, they were charged with deep moral concerns, denunciatory language, and suspicion—their principal end not being the refutation of my arguments but the cordoning of acceptable opinion. Indeed, what I found striking and what has disappointed me in general is that my detailed and at-times tedious syllogistic reasoning is (with one notable exception) almost entirely ignored. The readers of these reviews might conclude that the book is a series of “takes”, not one that explains its methods and explicitly attempts to bring its readers to its conclusions.  

But I cannot say I’m ungrateful. Few authors get such attention, even when saying controversial (albeit once common) things. And I do not want to give the wrong impression about the reviews. Every review has offered legitimate challenges or opportunities for lively discussion.  

This is the first response in what I hope is a series. 

Mattson Review 

I will begin with the review by Brian Mattson. I begin here not because it is the best review; indeed, it is far from the best, despite what some have claimed. Rather, his review, being the first major review, serves a particular function in the minds of those who are inclined to dismiss this book. It is not enough to call the book dangerous; that makes it sound “based” and more attractive to the transgressive youth. It must be unserious as well and liking it makes you equally unserious. Mattson’s review thus completes the critique by claiming that it is unserious. 

The central charge against me is that I “exempt” myself from “the task of exegesis and biblical theology” to “actively piece together a collection of selected witnesses” from the Reformed tradition. Mattson has in mind chapters 1 and 2 in which I admittedly “assume” a system of protology or theological anthropology to serve as my theological framework for a Christian political theory. I do not attempt to demonstrate this theology from Scripture. Indeed, in the introduction I state the “I am neither a theologian nor a biblical scholar” and so I will “assume the Reformed theological tradition.” Several online critics, badly misreading what I said, mocked this statement, missing apparently that the theological expertise I had in mind is “moving from scriptural interpretation to theological articulation.” This moving from…to is far more complex than most evangelicals today realize, involving not only exegesis but questions around catholicity, tradition, precise terminology, coherent systematization, and other elements. Pick up Francis Turretin’s Institutes of Elenctic Theology and marvel at the learning and argumentation. My claim arose from respect for the theological discipline and was simply an acknowledgement that my expertise and training are in another discipline, namely, political theory.[1] 

Still, I wanted to build a Reformed political theory and so, naturally, I would rely on the Reformed tradition as its theological framework. Since my work demanded robust articulation and systematization, I chose to rely heavily on 17th century Reformed theologians, who developed the doctrines of Reformers into a “final, dogmatic codification,” states historian Richard Muller. Muller continues: 

Without detracting at all from the achievement of the great Reformers and the earliest codifiers of the doctrines of the Reformation—writers like Melanchthon, Calvin, and Bullinger—we need to recognize that not they, but rather, subsequent generations of “orthodox” or “scholastic” Protestants are responsible for the final form….Where the Reformers painted with a broad brush, their orthodox and scholastic successors strove to fill in the details of the picture.[2] 

The post-Reformation theologians provided me the precise formulations from which to write a precise Christian political theory. 

I am not claiming that the theological development and post-Reformational formulations were monolithic and uniform. Nevertheless, every doctrinal point I assume in the book is either the majority or the near universal position of Reformed orthodoxy. On matters that were widely disputed, I make my own arguments. So, for example, I give arguments for my conclusion that civil magistracy would have existed in a state of integrity—a position rejected by Luther but affirmed by Aquinas and many Protestants. It is clear in the book when I’m using sources to assume doctrines and when I’m using sources to support or supplement my own arguments.  Unfortunately, Mattson makes no effort to distinguish this usage in his review. 

It is absurd, given the complex work of codification in the post-Reformation era, to require me to independently prove these assumed doctrines, especially since the book is a work of Reformed political theory. If I were to write a book on, say, Trinitarian political theory, would anyone require me to demonstrate Trinitarian doctrine from Scripture? Would I have to begin from scratch as if I were dropped into the early 2nd century? Few would expect this of me. But by what principle can I assume the Trinity but not Reformed theological anthropology? As I said, it is a work of Reformed Christian political theory and so I assumed Reformed theology.  

As a practical matter, providing proof in the form of final precision would be a huge undertaking and make a large book much larger. And the exegetical work has, to my mind, already happened. The reader can consult my sources for that exegesis, including sources of explanation, the statements of the question, the nature of the controversies, etc. They provide better arguments than I could muster on my own; and if I were to make the attempt, my arguments would look very much like theirs.  

Mattson’s critique, however, goes beyond this: he claims that I cherrypicked my sources from a diverse tradition to build an idiosyncratic and dualistic theological system. He simply asserts this, expecting his reader to rely on his credibility as a theologian. But his claim is demonstrably false, and it pains me that I, a political theorist, must correct theologians who ought to know better. Let’s walk through what I assume in the book: 
 

The Two Ends of Man 

The most important assumed doctrinal position for the book is that prelapsarian man has two ends: an earthly end and a heavenly end. Or, as Bavinck writes, “The state of integrity is not yet the state of glory….[It] is a preparation for eternal glory.” Put differently, Adam was promised eternal life, conditioned on his active obedience to God. I discuss this on pages 42-46. 

For support of this doctrine, I cite several theologians you may have heard of: Martin Luther, John Calvin, Francis Turretin, Peter van Mastricht, John Brown of Haddington, Herman Bavinck, and G. K. Beale. I quote Turretin who calls this view the “received opinion of the orthodox.”[3] I could have fattened the footnotes even further with support from Franciscus Junius, James Ussher, Johann Heidegger, Herman Witsius, Thomas Watson, Stephen Charnock, Wilhelmus a Brakel, Daniel Wyttenbach, Heinrich Heppe, R. L. Dabney, Charles Hodge, Louis Berkhof, and Geerhardus Vos [See notes 4-13]. To name a few confessional documents, it is in the Irish Articles (1615), the Westminster Confession (1647), the Helvetic Consensus Formula (1675), and the Heidelberg Catechism.[14] I could go on and on.  

It is telling that Mattson’s only evidence for diversity on this issue comes from my own research (footnote 6 on page 44). I cite Thomas Goodwin, who denied that Adam was promised heavenly life. Instead, God promised his continuation in his state of integrity; the state of glory comes only through Christ. I attribute this position to Goodwin’s supralapsarianism. There are others in the Reformed camp who would join Goodwin (though most are obscure), and certainly the nature of this promised “life” is disputable. But a book of Reformed political theory can safely assume the majority position to build a Reformed political theory. 

Two Sets of Gifts 

Next, I assume that the gifts of God for Adam to accomplish these ends are distinguishable (though not separable) into two sets. For the sake of simplicity, I used Calvin’s terminology (which he took from Augustine) — “natural gifts” and “supernatural gifts.”[15] Though you see this sort of language in Junius,[16] post-Reformation theologians preferred to say that both sets are “natural” but still distinguishable—some being “essential” and “constitutive” to man as man and the others “accidental” and “perfective”. Heidegger says that “[original] righteousness was natural in the first man, not accessory and supernatural.”[17] Turretin gives the different ways we can speak things being “natural”.[18] This shift in terminology is developmental, not contradictory, for the substance is the same—Calvin used “supernatural” because the gifts concern heavenly matters while later theologians preferred to use “natural” to emphasize the necessity of these higher gifts for man’s natural righteousness. I chose the older supernatural/natural distinction for the sake of simplicity, though I was fully aware of the dispute between Reformed and Roman Catholic theologians on the nature of these “supernatural gifts,” having myself published an essay on it.[19]  

Mattson’s broadside against me is that my assumptions are Roman Catholic. It troubles me to report, however, that Mattson’s assessment is sophomoric and erroneous. 

The dispute between Roman Catholics and the Reformed, as Turretin writes, is this: “The Romanists hold original righteousness to be a supernatural gift, superadded to the native gifts and power of the entire man.”[20] The Reformed believed that all the gifts were native and original to man. I never use the word “superadded” to describe the supernatural gifts, and I explicitly say that both sets of gifts were “native to and ‘concreated’ in Adam at creation” (46). These terms—“native” and “concreated”—are Protestant terms, used to distinguish Reformed from Roman Catholic. Thus, I use Calvin’s terminology but clarify using post-Reformational terms to clearly (for those who understand the controversy) distinguish myself from Roman Catholicism. I am squarely in the Reformed camp, which affirmed that the higher gifts were original and native to Adam.[21] They were not superadded, as if placed on top of “pure nature”. My terminology directly contradicts the Roman Catholic idea of the donum superadditum, despite Mattson assuring his readers to the contrary.  

Furthermore, I state that these gifts are “necessary to perform good works well, for with them one performs with a good conscience inwardly before God” (48). Thus, these gifts are not, as Roman Catholic theologian Robert Bellarmine called them, a “golden bridle” to keep the pure nature of man in check, but their presence is necessary for righteousness. This entails that their absence or removal places man not in a state of “pure nature” but in a state of unrighteousness,[22] which is precisely what is at issue. Again, I am clearly in the Reformed camp.[23] In addition, throughout this section, I cite Peter Martyr Vermigli, Junius, and Turretin, which Mattson fails to mention. Indeed, Mattson does not acknowledge anywhere in his review that for every position I take on theological anthropology I cite several big names in the Reformed theological tradition. 

Mattson appears to understand neither the issues involved, nor his own tradition. He claims, for example, that in distinguishing these gifts with language like “constitutive” and “perfective” my position is Roman Catholic. But those are precisely the terms that Turretin and others used against Rome.[24] The earthly gifts are natural constitutively and the heavenly gifts are natural perfectively. An earlier version of the book contained this exact distinction, but I decided that it was too complex for the purposes of the book—not that it would have helped me against Mattson. The best I can tell is that Mattson’s only exposure to Protestant scholastic theology is secondhand, from his reading of Bavinck. Now, I like Bavinck and I cite him several times, but Mattson has not grasped the complexities of these controversies. 

In sum, though I use the 16th century natural/supernatural distinction (citing Calvin), my theological anthropology is thoroughly Reformed, not Roman Catholic. I state that original righteousness, or the perfective gifts, is native and original to man and necessary for righteousness. The question between Reformed and Roman Catholic is not whether we ought to distinguish the gifts into two sets. Rather, the question is: whether the higher gifts were added to the already native gifts to remedy their weakness or the higher gifts were native and original to Adam and necessary for his righteousness. I explicitly affirm the latter, placing me on the side of the Reformed.  

The Fall 

I argue that the principal (though not sole) effect of the fall concerned man’s inward ability to act to the glory of God. Fallen men can still perform the substance of moral duty, though he cannot perfect the work.[25] It remains a splendid sin apart from grace. I cite New England Puritan Samuel Willard: “Man had God's image [or original righteousness] on him at first, which was necessary, not so much to enable him to do the matter of duty, as to do it graciously; there must be holiness attending it.”[26] With original righteousness withdrawn, fallen man can still perform the substance of duty but he cannot perform it well; and thus he cannot act righteously. Again, this is the Reformed position. 

Moreover, contrary to the Roman Catholic view, I affirm that “the absence of original righteousness…introduces an active and efficacious inclination toward evil” (84). The loss of original righteousness does not constitute a mere privation but injects vicious habits into man. This directly opposes the Roman Catholic position (at least as argued by Bellarmine), and it is precisely the sort of language used by Reformed theologians to distinguish themselves from Roman Catholics. For example, after citing Thomas Aquinas against Bellarmine, Turretin says that “original sin…[is] highly active and efficacious.”[27] I see now that I unknowingly plagiarized Turretin. If according to Mattson my theology is Roman Catholic, then so too is Francis Turretin’s and much of the Reformed tradition. The fact is, despite Mattson’s repeated claims about my work, I nowhere state that man’s natural capacities are left “untouched” by the fall. I say precisely the opposite, and in saying the opposite I cite several Reformed theologians for support.  

Mattson’s lack of attention to what I actually said and to my sources taints his entire review. Reading attentively would have saved him from the “nausea” apparently induced by my frequent quoting of Bavinck. Mattson complains, “Bavinck believed that something couldn’t be ‘restored’ unless it had been first corrupted.” Well, yes, and I say as much: “The sanctified on earth are not perfect, but all the gifts that were either eliminated or corrupted by the fall are restored. Grace restores nature” (93). I then cite Bavinck again.  

I was repeatedly puzzled that Mattson, a theologian, could several times accuse me of Roman Catholic theology. He took great issue with this paragraph of mine, for example: 

The fall’s principal effect concerned man’s relationship to God and the promised heavenly life, for it removed man’s highest gifts (those that drew him to heavenly life). Man retains his earthly gifts, those that lead him to the fundamental things of earthly life, such as family formation and civil society. Thus, man still has his original instincts and still knows the principles of right action, which incline him to what is good. (22) 

The irony is that this is standard classical Protestantism and could serve as a summary of Calvin’s account in Institutes 2.2.12-18. Calvin says that man’s “supernatural gifts [were] withdrawn”. These gifts were necessary for Adam “for the attainment of heavenly life”. Man’s earthly gifts, according to Calvin, were not withdrawn but retained and “corrupted.” They were “partly weakened” and “partly corrupted.” They remain strong enough such that man is “disposed, from natural instinct, to cherish and preserve society; and accordingly we see that the minds of all men have impressions of civil order and honesty.” Similarly, Turretin states that original sin does not “extinguish the internal principles of action, but depraves them.”[28] 

Calvin continues: 

While men dispute with each other as to particular enactments, their ideas of equity agree in substance. This, no doubt, proves the weakness of the human mind, which, even when it seems on the right path, halts and hesitate. Still, however, it is true that some principles of civil order is impressed on all. And this is ample proof that, in regard to the constitution of the present life, no man is devoid of the light of reason….Nothing, indeed, is more common, than for man to be sufficiently instructed in a right course of conduct by natural law.[29] 

By Mattson’s standards, John Calvin’s theological anthropology was Roman Catholic.  

Heidegger reflects the consensus view that “the essence of sin does not consist in the substance of man, which good has God himself as author and preserver.” Thus, anything pertaining to man as man—i.e., what is naturally constitutive of man in essence—is retained, though it is corrupted.[30] 

Having affirmed that fallen man retained his earthly gifts, Turretin writes the following: 

We do not deny that some strength still remains in man after the fall as to those external and civil good works, so that he can exercise justice and temperance, put forth acts of mercy and charity, abstain from theft and homicide, and exhibit the operations of similar virtues, with the antecedent concourse and general help of God, to which the virtues of the heathen belong; but the question [about free will] is about spiritual and supernatural good, pleasing and acceptable to God.[31] 

Consent of the Nations 

Mattson faults me for having too positive a view of fallen man, though he does not understand my argument, nor does he acknowledge the wide range of sources for this positive view. I can state the position simply with a couple quotes from Bavinck: 

The doctrine of the incapacity for good is a religious confession. In light of the standard people usually follow in their daily life or in philosophic ethics, one can wholeheartedly admit that much of what people do is good and beautiful.[32] 

With respect to the moral commandments of the second table of the law there is always much agreement among the nations, inasmuch as the work of the law continues to be written on their hearts.[33] 

Does Melanchthon induce nausea as well?: 

For Christ did not come into the world to teach precepts about [civil] morals, which man already knew by reason, but to forgive sins, in order that he may give the Holy Spirit to those who believe in him.[34] 

Or consider what Calvin said about nations:  

As some principles of equity and justice remain in the hearts of men, the consent of the nations is as it were the voice of nature, or the testimony of that equity which is engraven on the hearts of men, and which they can never obliterate.35 

Or consider Turretin: 

The consent of nations [proves the existence of the natural law], among whom (even the most savage) some law of the primitive nations obtains, from which even without a teacher they have learned that God should be worshiped, parents honored, a virtuous life be led from which as a foundation have flowed so many laws concerning equity and virtue enacted by heathen legislators, drawn from nature itself. And if certain laws are found among some repugnant to these principles, they were even with reluctance received and observed by a few, at length abrogated by contrary laws, and have fallen into desuetude.[36] 

One finds the “consent of the nations” argument everywhere in the work for Reformed theologians, jurists, and political theorists in the 16th and 17th centuries—even on matters concerning natural religion and natural theology. This consent refers not to particulars but to the universal principles from which the particulars flow. That is, the nations in their civil ordering point to the principles of natural law, which entails that man is naturally directed by instinct and reason to act by these principles. Appealing to the nations makes sense only if one affirms from the outset that the natural principles of man continue to operate in man.  

The key point for my book was that fallen man retains his fundamental instincts, being deeply rooted in man. I quote Charles Hodge: “The Bible recognizes the validity and rightness of all the constitutional principles and impulses of our nature.”[37] I acknowledge, however, that “the effects of sin are all around us,” especially in our many different relations with fellow man. But, as I say, “these are abuses of these relations” (87). The abuse of a principle does not negate the principle, nor strike its inherent goodness. The mother’s instinct for her children is good in itself and is necessary for the good of children, but it can be abused or neglected to evil. Furthermore, the abuse of a principle still reveals the principle.  

My argument, which I will not fully restate here, is that the formation of nations is natural to man as man—flowing from his instinct and reason—and thus it is for his good and not a result of the fall; but it can be and is often abused for evil ends. Grace corrects the abuse but does not replace the fundamental structures of earthly life. 

Retaining an “instinct” for civil fellowship is standard Christian political theory. We saw it above in a quote from Calvin’s Institutes 2.2.13. Richard Hooker said that there is “a natural inclination whereby all men desire sociable life and fellowship” and Keckermann writes, “The origin of political society derives from God and the nature of man, to which man is driven by the law of nature and instinct.”38 Mattson himself in the review cites Rutherford, who states that man is drawn to “civil society” by nature. Rutherford also affirmed that the “heathen have by instinct of nature…made laws morally good, submitted to them.”[39] Keckermann’s Systema Disciplinae Politicae contains far more citations from pagan sources than scriptural references. The fact is, the Reformed tradition acknowledges the fundamental natural instincts of human relations and affirms that such instincts remain operative structurally (though not always directionally) for human good in a fallen world.[40]  

New Principles 

Finally, I will discuss another assumption in the book. I deny that the Gospel or grace supersedes, abrogates, replaces, corrects, or adds to the principles of natural law, being the only and immutable standard of righteousness. Included in this natural law are the principles concerning our relations to fellow man. The things of grace affect the application of those principles, as I state clearly in the book, but do not alter or add to the principles themselves. The immutability of the moral law is a near universal doctrine in the Reformed tradition. In his commentary on the Sermon on the Mount, Calvin writes, “We must not imagine Christ to be a new legislature.” Turretin likewise states,  

Is the moral law so perfect a rule of life and morals that nothing can be added to it or ought to be corrected in it for the true worship of God? Or did Christ fulfill it not only as imperfect, but also correct it as contrary to his doctrines? The former we affirm; the latter we deny against the Socinians, Anabaptists, Remonstrants, and papists.[41]

Consider Willard’s comments:  

The moral law took place as soon as man was made, and continues to the end, without any alteration. The same that it was, when given to Adam in integrity, the same it was when renewed on Mount Sinai, and is still the same in the days of the gospel.[42] 

I predicted that the neo-Calvinists would dislike my theology, especially the “dualisms” that I pull from dozens of Reformed theologians prior to the 20th century, but I was surprised to see Mattson question the immutability of the moral law. After quoting me, he writes, “I observe that one of the most obvious and central concerns of the New Testament is precisely a ‘new principle of human relations.’” Mattson is, of course, free to join the Roman Catholics, Arminians, Anabaptists, or neo-Socinians, but we cannot call his position Reformed. According to the Reformed tradition, the principles of human relations are immutable, and grace adds no new principle to their list. And since this is a work of Reformed political theory, I have assumed this doctrine, for it is Reformed.  

Conclusion 

Most of Mattson’s attacks on my book either 1. strike (perhaps unwittingly) against majority or near universal positions of the Reformed tradition (excluding the 20th aberrations); 2. arise from misreading what I explicitly say in the book, mainly by importing Roman Catholic distinctions that are contradicted by the text; or 3. arise from a surprising ignorance of the Reformed tradition, especially its 17th century codification. Thus, in this response, I, a political theorist, had to instruct a theologian about Reformed theology. Mattson’s review in substance is profoundly erroneous, on several levels; and, dare I say, it is an embarrassment to him and the theologians that endorsed it.  

One hopes that reviews like this will become a thing of the past, as neo-Calvinist anxieties about the Protestant retrieval of 17th century Reformed thought subside. Retrieval has increasingly revealed that, despite the diversity in the doctrinal development of the 17th century, the distinctives of neo-Calvinism have no place in that diversity, nor could they arise logically from that diversity. Reformed theology, from Calvin to the 19th century, was thoroughly “dualistic” – affirming distinctions between natural/supernatural, nature/grace, reason/faith, temporal/eternal, earth/heaven, and secular/sacred. Reformed theology did not reject these medieval categories as popish errors, let alone as paganistic. They incorporated them in their theological systems, modifying them as they saw fit, and these became essential to their system’s coherence. The neo-Calvinist impulse to denounce these things as “Roman Catholic,” as Mattson has said about my work, is now quite ridiculous, and let us hope that neo-Calvinists and others will do better in the future. 

___________________________________

Notes:

[1] Also, even theologians have proceeded in their systematic work by assuming the tradition. See, for example, Heinrich Heppe’s Reformed Dogmatics.

[2] Richard Muller, Post-Reformation Reformed Dogmatics, I.37.

[3] Turretin, Institutes of Elenctic Theology (IET), trans. James T. Dennison, 5.12.3.

[4] See Junius, Mosaic Polity, 48-51.

[5] “God promised [to Adam] eternal, heavenly life for [perfect obedience to the law].” See Heidegger, The Concise Marrow of Theology, trans. Casey Carmichael, 61.

[6] “We believe that God promised to Adam life eternal, that is, the most perfect fruition of himself.” See Witsius, The Economy of the Covenants: Between God and Man, 73.

[7] Adam “would have been translated to a better paradise.” See Watson, A Body of Divinity, 129.

[8] “When the law was first given as the covenant of works, it was for the happiness of man; and the end of giving it was, that man might have eternal life by it.” See Charnock, Existence and Attributes of God, II. 253.

[9] “Adam had the promise of eternal life.” In The Christian’s Reasonable Service, trans. Bartel Elshout, I.360.

[10] “Both [the covenant works and the covenant of grace] offer a plan of free justification, by which a righteousness should be accepted, in covenant, to acquire for the creature more than he could strictly claim of God; and thus gain him everlasting life.” See Dabney, Systematic Theology,  302.

[11] See his Systematic Theology, Vol. II.VI.1.

[12] “There was a promise of eternal life.” See Hodge, Systematic Theology, 213.

[13] “An element of reward, ex pacto [by covenant]. By the free ordination of God, Adam received a right to eternal life if he fulfilled the conditions of the covenant of works.” See Vos, Reformed Dogmatics, Vol. 2. Heinrich Heppe writes, “On condition that Adam gave perfect obedience he was promised eternal life, i.e. not so much eternal continuance…nor yet merely unending earthly bliss in paradise, but rather after consistent faithful obedience the most blessed enjoyment of God’s fellowship in heaven.” See Reformed Dogmatics, trans. GT Thompson, 294.

[14] “God did promise unto him everlasting life, upon condition that he performed entire and perfect obedience unto his Commandments” (Irish Articles, 21). “The first covenant made with man was a covenant of works, wherein life was promised to Adam” (WCF, 7.2). “Moreover that promise connected to the Covenant of Works was not a continuation only of earthly life and happiness but the possession especially of eternal and celestial life, a life namely, of both body and soul in heaven” (Helvetic, Canon VIII). “God created them good and in his own image, that is, in true righteousness and holiness, so that they might truly know God their creator, love him with all their heart, and live with God in eternal happiness, to praise and glorify him” (HC, Q. 6).

[15] Calvin, Institutes, trans. Henry Beveridge, 2.2.12

[16] “It is necessary that other principles above nature be inspired and infused by God so that we may know that end beyond nature to which we have been ordered, and the truth that would certainly lead to that end.” Junius, Mosaic Polity, trans. Todd M. Rester, 52.

[17] See Concise Marrow, 46.

[18] “Natural is taken in four ways: (1) originally and subjectively, drawn from nature and concreated or born together with it and most deeply implanted in it (which is opposed to the adventitious); (2) constitutively and consecutively, constituting the nature of the thing or following and flowing from the principles of nature (as such as are the essential part or properties of a thing which is opposed to the accidental); (3) perfectively, agreeing with the nature and adorning and perfecting it (opposed to that which is against nature); (4) transitively, which ought to be propagated with nature.” IET, 5.11.2

[19] See my “Pagan Civil Virtue in the Thought of Francis Turretin,” in Beyond Calvin: Essays on the Diversity of the Reformed Tradition.

[20] Turretin, IET, 5.11.5. Emphasis added.

[21] See IET, 5.11.1.

[22] Turretin writes against Bellarmine: “Thus it [the higher set of gifts] is so necessary to the perfection of innocent man that without it he could not have been such.” IET, 5.11.6.

[23] See Turretin, IET, 5.11.5.

[24] See e.g., IET 5.11.2, 6.

[25] Ursinus writes, “The difference which exists between the works of the righteous and the wicked, goes to prove that the moral works of the wicked are sins, but yet not such sins as those which are in their own nature opposed to the law of God: for these are sins in themselves, and according to their very nature, while the moral works of the wicked are sins merely by an accident; viz., on account of some defect, either because they do not proceed from a true faith, or are not done to the glory of God.” See Commentary on Heidelberg Catechism, 849.

[26] See Case for Christian Nationalism, 52.

[27] IET 9.11.

[28] IET 9.11.

[29] Calvin, Institutes, 2.2.13, 22.

[301] Marrow of Christian Theology, 70. Turretin writes, “It is one thing to speak of the essence of man; another of his integrity and perfection. At the taking away of a part or of some essential property, there follow in truth the destruction of the thing, but not forthwith at the privation of that which contributes to the integrity and perfecting of nature (as such as original righteousness was). The nature indeed remains mutilated and depraved (since it has lost what perfected it), but is not destroyed as to essence.” IET 5.11.11.

[31] IET 10.4.3.

[32] Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics, III.123

[33] See Reformed Dogmatics, III:134.

[34] Quoted in CCN, 102.

[35] Quoted in CCN, 85, fn. 12. Or Luther: “The Gospel does not trouble itself with these matters [civil affairs]. It teaches about the right relation of the heart to God.”

[36] IET, 11.1.13.

[37] See CCN, 87.

[38] Hooker, Law of Ecclesiastical Polity 1.10 and Keckermann, Systema Disciplinae Politicae, 9.

[39] Rutherford, Lex, Rex, Q. 8

[40] Mattson also claims that Samuel Rutherford opposes my view that magistracy is natural. Timon Cline responds to Mattson in his review of my book.

[41] Turretin, IET 11.3.

[42] See CCN, 50-51.