By Jimmy Stephens

What follows is a critique of Tyler’s Medium article titled, “Conditional Forgiveness and Reformed Orthodoxy.” There are a number of errors to be observed, some conceptual, others exegetical. I cannot be exhaustive, but we shall cover what’s important as best we can.

Self-Defeat

In the first place, Tyler’s treatment of what he calls “Reformed orthodoxy” is performatively self-refuting. Nowhere in the history of the Reformed tradition do its representatives conceive of their own theology as a mere snapshot of one’s personally favorited historical figures, their theology. That Tyler treats Reformed orthodoxy as reducible to a few scattered quotes of a few theologians contradicts the very concept of Reformed orthodoxy found in his quoted theologians.

Recall that the cry of the Reformation was against the standing tradition and widespread theology of that time. The cry of the Reformers was Sola Scriptura, which is to say, Scripture is the sole rule of faith. And the Reformers did not make their case with a dogmatic traditionalist appeal to a few quotes of Christians who came before them whom they liked. The practical outworking of Sola Scriptura in the Reformers was to define, derive, and defend their theology from Biblical exegesis.

Imagine how Tyler would be nonplussed if requested the Heidelberg citation where it sets forth a definition of Reformed theology merely in terms of cited historical figures. To enumerate citations as if they were inherently authoritative is antagonistic to the very Reformed sources cited. It demonstrates neglect of what formal contest ignited the Reformation in the first place: will we define matters of faith in light of man’s testimony or God’s (Bahnsen ref)?

Consider that the historic Reformed confessions make a constant effort to appeal to Scripture, wherefore they are run through with allusion to it, citations of it. They never appeal to what their own representatives happen to believe. Much less would they dare appeal to human tradition that came before, especially not when they have God’s testimony in Scripture. And they certainly do not cite or treat any theologian as if they were immune to revision. The Reformed confessions do not treat themselves as immune to revision, inherently authoritative, or a mere snapshot of one’s favorite historic figures.

The Reformed do not asseverate for themselves the authority Tyler presupposes they have when he quotes them. His treatment of them is reminiscent of those Romanists who eisegetically and anachronistically appeal to church fathers as inherent authorities; when church fathers do not claim for themselves any such authority, recommend their views based on argument instead, and teach that they are fallible men subject to Biblical verification and falsification. Tyler’s quoted sources defined their own theology chiefly in terms of its Biblical soundness: that it is not only derived from Scripture, but that this is the only reason for which it can be taken as normative for the faith.

Simply put, Tyler’s idea of “Reformed orthodoxy” is repugnant to its historic representatives.

It gets worse. Notice that the article is not addressing ivory tower debate or minor matters subject to discernment. No, it endeavors to handle a conscience-binding matter of orthodoxy. It is not enough that the article employs a concept of theology incompatible with its cited sources, but outright violates the doctrine of Sola Scriptura by entering into salvific questions apart from Scriptural aid.

At this juncture, one might retort that Tyler does not intend to use his sources as infallible or inherently binding. Rather, he means to use them as lesser testimonial evidence. Two observations trivialize this response. First, the problem remains that Tyler neglects the evidential order commended by his sources. That is, his sources exalt Scripture as the first and best testimony to be considered, such that, God deserves more credit and preoccupation than human authorities, and for someone to appeal to humans without appealing to God, when he has ample opportunity to do so, is an epistemic blunder, if not a moral one.

Second, Scripture is the sole rule of faith and Tyler is demarcating faith and unbelief. He accuses his opponents of “dangerous and presumptuous error” that “tends towards Antinomianism.” On these and similar matters binding to the conscience, Scripture is a must according to Tyler’s sources.

To conclude, Tyler’s article is a case of performative self-refutation. Insofar as it merely appeals to Reformed representatives, Tyler misdefines “Reformed” because the Reformed did not delineate Reformed theology that way. Insofar as Tyler attributes to figures authority they denied themselves, Tyler misrepresents his sources. It appears “Reformed orthodoxy” for Tyler is really “Tyler orthodoxy.”

Sloppiness

Speaking of dangerous errors, isn’t it a little presumptuous to accuse someone of antinomianism without even bothering to define the term? There are a lot- too many terms bereft of disambiguation throughout Tyler’s article. He proffers no definition of Reformed or American Evangelicalism or OSAS. Why?

Now let’s be fair. Some of these words might not require sharper focus if he had just told us precisely what it means to be antinomian. The heresy hooplah is what matters, after all. We could then fill in the gaps where needed. Unfortunately, Tyler is too busy enumerating prooftexts to tell us what the antinomian hullabaloo is in the first place. The result is that Tyler’s article cannot be distinguished from alarmism and buzz-word raving shenanigans.

Most readers are likely to attach a negative concept to the word “antinomianism.” It’s a word meant to evoke condemnation. He’s counting on that. At the same time, though, Christians do not all agree about what the essence of antinomianism is, where to draw the line, and Christians too often disagree about what instances antinomianism as well as what occasions it. Many of us know “antonomianism” retains its etymological “anti-law” gesturing, but just what makes someone’s theology anti-law, and in what way does that threaten orthodoxy?

Furthermore, the implicit argument in Tyler’s article is that a bunch of Reformed guys said something, so the opposite is bad. Does it follow that said opposite is anti-law or serious error? Who knows, because that secondary argument is never given, on top of the fact that the term “antinomianism” is never clearly defined.

We can be sure about one thing. God makes clear in Scripture that making sloppy accusations about people and being divisive in that way constitutes bearing false witness. Even if Tyler’s article were right about something, it judges itself.

Self-Trivialization

Speaking of Tyler’s definitions and clarity, consider what would happen should someone counter-cite other putatively Reformed authors against the article. As Tyler himself knows, his view is not the only position claimed by self-identifying Reformed theologians. Would such dissentient figures simply be denied Reformed heritage? That would betray the author’s procrustean definition of “Reformed orthodoxy.” The article can then be dismissed as an article about “Tyler orthodoxy” instead.

(Additionally, this would make the parenthetical remark about “preconceived notions as to what constitutes orthodox reformed theology” regarding translations of the Canons seem like the article is talking back to its author.)

Let’s address the issue point blank: what does it mean to be Reformed? No matter how he answers, Tyler faces a dilemma. If he defines Reformed theology by merely enumerating a list of nominal representatives, then Christians are not obligated to care about his answer, much less accept it. That conception of “Reformed orthodoxy” makes itself doctrinally and orthopraxically irrelevant.

Alternatively, if he defines Reformed theology by linking a list of representatives, their beliefs and arguments, to Scripture – in other words, if he conceived of Reformed theology the way they did (viz. Sola Scriptura), then what is genuinely Reformed becomes just as much a historical question as it is an exegetical one. If the definition of “Reformed orthodoxy” hinges on exegetical claims, then those claiming to be Reformed (or those claiming someone else is Reformed) can be tested as to how consistently Reformed they truly are exegetically.

We see this same issue with, say, the topic of baptism. Mainline Presbyterians, Continental Reformed, and Reformed Baptists do not all agree on the nature of baptism. They do not agree about who is consistently Reformed, and they also do not all agree on whether their Reformed heritage is at stake either. The same is true over Sabbatarian controversies or ecclesiology, et al.

Here’s the bottom line. According to Tyler’s article, either it is a necessary condition of being Reformed that one comport to Scripture, or it is not. If not, “the Reformed” for Tyler is just an aggrandizing moniker for the author’s preferred theologians, a hagiographic version of their historic beliefs, and not something anyone should bother taking seriously – in fact, should condemn (1 Cor 3). On that horn, the article is trivial and (literally) wasting people’s time.

Alternatively, Tyler concedes that one must be Biblical to be Reformed, that the very concept of Reformed theology is contingent on Biblicality. In this case, there arises a tremendous burden for Tyler to critically analyze whether this or that theologian is consistent with their own putative commitment to Scripture, and to what extent; and then demonstrate that they were in fact Biblical. Naturally, Tyler does not bother to fulfill this onus, trivializing the article.

Either way, the article can be dismissed off-hand.

One note of caution. I have not argued this or that theologian holds no ethos. I have not said historic figures constitute no testimonial evidence or authority in their field. God Himself commands us to revere the wise, an imperative ubiquitous to Proverbs. There is nothing intrinsically fallacious about appealing to Christian figures. Don’t get it twisted.

What is fallacious is quoting men as a surrogate for God’s word, especially on matters where God’s authority is required. In theory, Tyler could have endeavored to show that some or a great many Reformers believed something, but that’s all he could ever accomplish by citations. He could never establish that they were consistent with their own theology or exegetically correct. It would not be binding on our consciences that way, and it is popery to think a quotation of a few sinners could ever do so.

Quote Mining the Canons of Dort

So far, I have pointed out how the article is self-refuting, how it banalizes itself, and how it is thoughtless in matters pertaining to salvation. Now let’s turn to the issue of quote mining and misrepresentation.

I should briefly qualify: like the author of this article, I am no expert in church history. Many such historians, especially Reformed ones, expressly disagree with the Tyler’s surmising. I’ll leave it up to anyone interested in church history to read the relevant authors themselves, but the fact that this article quotes Davenant positively or lists Anglicanism as a reliable source of Reformed theology is a point of departure for many.

It’s not that church history offers no perspicuity, though that’s true. It’s not just that the best human theologians are subject to error, inconsistency, even self-misrepresentation at times. That’s also true. No, the problem is that church history is riddled with fair controversy on top of textual unclarity and fallible sources. Unfortunately, Tyler neglects this inevitable fog and bumbles through as if historiology were clear weather sighted.

Sadly, it is easy enough to show that the article eisegetes most its citations. As a result, the author is not only refuted, but his hermeneutical ethos is impugned. That is, his reading comprehension is shown to be lacking. (I will later comment on how his implicit response to the Biblical witness on requital warrants utter skepticism about his ability to read less perspicuous sources from history.)

Starting with his Dort citation, we should note that the author’s argument is, prima facie, dangerously close to the etymological fallacy. Word etymology is the weakest form of evidence as to a word’s meaning. So at the outset, bringing up the Latin is not remotely enough to reach a solid conclusion about “deadly guilt.” But it gets worse.

One might and should consider the surrounding Articles under the Fifth Head to qualify Article 5. Notice how Article 1 states unambiguously, without prevarication:

Whom God calls, according to his purpose, to the communion of his Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, and regenerates by the Holy Spirit, he delivers also from the dominion and slavery of sin in this life. . .

Does Tyler mean to contest against the Synod that believers can by “deadly guilt” fall back under the dominion of sin, or that one can be transferred into a realm neither under sin’s dominion nor under Christ’s, as if there were some tertium quid? Or is he proposing that communion with the Son and regeneration are separate benefits that do not entail reconciliation (i.e. forgiveness)?

Now look at Article 3:
[T]hose who are converted could not persevere in a state of grace, if left to their own strength. But God is faithful, who having conferred grace, mercifully confirms, and powerfully preserves them herein, even to the end.

Does Tyler mean to contest against the Synod that God is unreliable to restrain the converted from deconversion due to sin? Or, again, is he proposing that God’s forgiveness can be divorced from conversion, and His preserving us in that state does not include preserving us from supposedly mortal sins?

Article 2 explicitly links (by entailment, if not causal chain also) conversion to a Trinity-guaranteed final state “with the Lamb of God in heaven.” Does Tyler mean to contest against the Synod that faith, which is the stuff of conversion, not to mention what the Canons have in view, is insufficient to entail confidence in that destiny? Again, he seems to be proposing that to “humble themselves before God, to flee for refuge to Christ crucified, to put the flesh to death more and more by the Spirit of supplication and by holy exercises of godliness” is possible without experienced forgiveness by God.

What we see in these first three Articles is that God monergistically preserves our salvific state while He synergistically ensures our sanctification. The trouble thus far with Tyler’s view is to see where the authors share his disunited view of that salvific state from God’s forgiveness. How is it possible to be elected, justified, converted, regenerate, and in communion with Christ without reconciliation to God? And if God’s requital is included in any one or combination of these salvific links in the golden chain, then Dordt plainly teaches that forgiveness is granted monergistically by God prior to matters of personal sanctification.

We come now to an answer about this question. You see, Tyler’s article conveniently skips over the concrete referent of “such” when he quotes Article 5. That “such” recalls examples listed at the end of Article 4. So it behooves us to look back and check them. These examples are “the lamentable fall of David, Peter, and other saints described in Holy Scripture. . .” What sort of fall is in view? Observe in full.

Although the weakness of the flesh cannot prevail against the power of God, who confirms and preserves true believers in a state of grace, yet converts are not always so influenced and actuated by the Spirit of God, as not in some particular instances sinfully to deviate from the guidance of divine grace, so as to be seduced by, and to comply with the lusts of the flesh; they must, therefore, be constant in watching and in prayer, that they be not led into temptation. When these are neglected, they are not only liable to be drawn into great and heinous sins, by Satan, the world and the flesh, but sometimes by the righteous permission of God actually fall into these evils. This, the lamentable fall of David, Peter, and other saints described in Holy Scripture, demonstrates.

Here the Synod carefully distinguished the saving “power of God” that not only “preserves” our salvific state, but “confirms(!)” it, on the one hand; from the “guidance of divine grace” “by the Spirit of God” on the other. Three remarks. First, at “God, who confirms,” one wonders what that even means apart from forgiveness? It either entails it is already possessed or being supplied. Either way, it is prior to the terrible sins in view in Article 4 and 5.

Second, nowhere does Article 4 define the consequences of these sins as a legal guilt to be requitted. No synonym or similar language or suggestion is found here at all.

Third, Article 4’s distinction between monergistic salvation and the Spirit’s influence demonstrates that what is in view is not an abrogation of justification, not loss of forgiveness, or need for requital, but a deprivation of practical harmony with the Spirit in one’s ongoing behavior. (One might even believe it comes in degrees, as do sins, and therefore could be called a “diminution” of the Spirit’s influence.)

Does Tyler mean to contest against the Synod by denying their distinction between a loss of the state of grace from a lessening of its daily outward expression? No concept of forgiveness in Dordt or the Bible places requittal in the latter category. (Indeed, requittal for Christians is just acquittal.) Tyler has confused justification and sanctification, as all Romanists do, and as the Synod did not.

The article casts David and Peter as paradigmatic examples of this loss. What loss? Again, not requital (a word ironically nowhere found in Article 4 or 5 or in David or Peter’s stories), but that of the Spirit’s “guidance,” His praxic influence. This diminution of the “guidance of divine grace” is then referenced in Article 5’s “such”, a loss Article 4 has already set up as incapable of reproving God’s election, the Son’s communion, the Spirit’s regeneration, that all deliver from sin’s dominion (Art1), are safeguarded by God to guarantee eternal life (Art2), based on His character and plan (Art 4, 6, 8), and which Article 4 is careful to comment God sovereignly confirms in us prior to sanctificational matters subject to our own agency of sinning and repenting.

Consider too that David and Peter’s stories do not fit Tyler’s paradigm. In both, God neither diagnoses their distance from Him in terms of guilt to be requitted, nor does God provide some legal solution or reconciliation they did not already have in principle. Peter, for example, is sought by Jesus who reaffirms Peter’s identity in Christ and corrects Peter’s behavioral inconsistency with his own identity as someone who’s guilt and enmity is dealt with before God in Christ. Peter has no legal guilt to be requitted; he has disharmony with the Spirit’s guidance to be stronghanded by Christ’s persuasion.

With these insights about Articles 1-4, we move to Article 5 itself. When we read of Article 5’s “deadly guilt” which is a consequence of Article 4’s diminution, even before we know what this “deadly guilt” talk means specifically, we know already it cannot mean a legal debt left unpaid somewhere along the golden chain of election, communion, adoption, regeneration, etc. It concerns the Holy Spirit’s guidance, not one’s reconciliation to God.

I reiterate: we do not even need to know exactly what “deadly guilt” refers to yet. We can dismiss Tyler’s interpretation merely on the grounds that he has failed to preserve an otherwise consistent reading of the Fifth Head. Specifically, his interpretation ignores the monergistic backing in view (Art1-4) that presumes all legal-guilt satisfaction distinguished in Article 4 from the Spirit’s immanent interaction with us. It switches God’s pre-human agency, up to faith, in the golden chain, with the effect links that follow. It divorces the concept of identity in Christ and justification before God from legal satisfaction and reconciliation. If confuses justification with sanctification and in that way is utter popery.

But wait, it gets worse. If we had just read Article 6 and nothing more, the author’s takeaway is explicitly repudiated. Observe in full.

But God, who is rich in mercy, according to his unchangeable purpose of election, does not wholly withdraw the Holy Spirit from his own people, even in their melancholy falls; nor suffers them to proceed so far as to lose the grace of adoption, and forfeit the state of justification, or to commit sins unto death; nor does he permit them to be totally deserted, and to plunge themselves into everlasting destruction.

Here I will point out two things. First, the “meloncholy falls” in view here are either some class paradigmatically represented in Article 4, or they are a broader class of sin including those introduced in Article 2 as well. Either way, “meloncholy falls” are nowhere said to accumulate or return debt to our account. The falls of Peter and David did not give need for requital. They do not cause guilt, the legal concept. They cause a social guilt, disunity with the Third Person’s sanctifying activity, and the sensed life-threatening distance from God’s provision that comes therewith.

Notice how Article 6 is aimed to clarify that the Holy Spirit is not “wholly” taken away. It clarifies something about the Holy Spirit’s role in sancitifcation, not something about God renewing forgiveness. This confirms that the consequence of the sin in view or the substance of the “deadly guilt” in view is sanctificational and practical in nature, not matters of reconciliation or requital. It is the diminution of the Spirit’s influence, not our legal status as pardoned.

Second, and more importantly, Article 6 leaves no room for loss of requital. It ties back to Article 1 and 2 by denying the total withdrawal of the Spirit because such a loss (among others) would entail the loss of categories like “adoption,” “justification,” eternal life, safety from the threat of eternal destruction, any one of which but especially altogether entail, conceptually include, or just are requital. That is to say, the Spirit’s total loss in Article 6 no less intuitively contradicts the prior salvific boons listed in the first three Articles than accumulation of guilt to be requited would contradict those selfsame boons.

Tyler’s interpretation demands us divorce requital and forgiveness from communion and justification, etc., but no such division is found in Heading 5. Instead, context suggests the “deadly guilt” is the grievance of the Holy Spirit (Eph 4:30), which like Peter’s denial of Christ does not revoke his forgiveness nor undoes Christ’s debt-paying atonement, but does cause temporary strife with the Spirit in one’s practical life, potentially life-threatening, potentially requiring God to do something more overt to correct this misbehavior as did Jesus with Peter.

We should also consider how suspiciously choicely limited Tyler’s citation is. Look carefully at the consequences listed in Article 5 again. By diminution of divine guidance, we can “offend God” and “grieve the Holy Spirit,” which are genus-species identical. We can also “interrupt the exercise of faith,” which means an inconsistent outward expression of a nevertheless possessed faith. We can lose a “SENSE of God’s favor,” and only “for a time,” not the favor itself, or at least not all of it, which reading is vindicated by the PERCEPTUAL analogy of divine light shining, not to mention the lack of comforting guidance from the Spirit. Not one of these indicates or even insinuates legal defaulting.

We see that Tyler completely ignores surrounding context, the argument and distinctions made therein, then stares hard, with etymological horse blinders, at a single word in Article 5. Tyler might as well have just quoted two words without any further context because that would have amounted to the same citational comprehension. “Guilt means guilt,” is effectively all he’s proposing, and that’s eisegesis plain and simple.

Before we conclude this section, let’s ask what guilt could theoretically mean other than unforgivienness or some state of legal debt to be payed. Guilt, after all, is not one-dimensional, and does not always refer to the sin-debt inherited from Adam.
“Guilt” can be a negative state of conscience in correlation with but not identical to legal guilt; the correlation can be, as in Romans 6, an outward unchristlikeness inconsistent with an internal Christlikeness. So says Strongs of Ashem, “The term can also imply the feeling of guilt or the acknowledgment of wrongdoing.”
“Guilt” can be a relational state, especially a covenantal distance, as when one is by sin estranged to another, to some degree. (More on this below.)
“Guilt” can be a horizontal debt, which is wrong to fellow humans, not (directly) God. If you think it would be silly to assume capital punishment is in view just because “deadly guilt” can refer to that, then for the same reason Tyler’s assumptiveness should be dismissed.
“Deadly guilt” could be phraseologically and not morphemically defined. That is, defined as an indivisible two-word phrase, not atomistically by the combination of one independently definable word beside another. If so, “deadly guilt” could mean some sort of moral problem that leads to death.
Notwithstanding, I’m no linguist, and Tyler certainly isn’t. There’s any number of combinations to consider, any one of which better fits given the context than Tyler’s etymological head in the sand.

For my part, I suspect that, because Article 4 introduces an issue of interpersonal interaction with the Spirit of Christ (read: sanctification, not justification); therefore, the “guilt” in view is probably the aforementioned covenantal distance. It is the notion of a damaged personal relationship. Just as a bodily disease does not contradict the life of its sufferer and in fact presupposes the aliveness of the person, “deadly guilt” in Article 5 contradict the person’s reconciliation and justification with God, but it is a straining of one’s friendship with the Spirit, which presupposes friendship with God already: forgiveness and requital.

During the earlier portion of Jacob’s life, he is selfish, irreverent, disengaged with God’s plan, treating his fathers’ God much according to the paganism of his die, like a genie to be chaffered with. Yet, God remains His friend, pursues Jacob despite the man’s dangerous sins. Nothing in the story suggests Jacob ever needed requital for his monumentally deadly guilts beyond what is presupposed in his faith. And later, through trials and tribulations, after some terrible decisions, increasing spiritual maturity, and a Christophanic intervention, Jacob changes quite a bit, becoming much more intimate with God.

This is probably what “deadly guilt” is about. The “debt” is not a dearth of legal due per se, but a dearth of intimacy. It’s not lack of restitution for sin, but the a lack of harmony, a distance between where the Spirit is calling vs where we are falling after having wandered, a non-legal distance “repaid” by returning, and that return’s first step is faith supplied by the regenerating Spirit, as the Articles prior to 5 clarify.

But I digress! Onto the WCF.

Quote Mining the Westminster Confession

First, let’s quickly address the author’s unsound argument, one Tyler will repeat elsewhere. He suggests that, because sins and forgiveness are reiterated daily, therefore requital is perishable and in need of reiteration. This simply does not follow. It commits two errors.

First, it’s a non-sequitar in the precise sense of that term. Just because effects or appropriations or instances are reiterated does not mean their cause or principle is. To wit, whatever the impetus for repentance is, that we repent more than once does not necessitate that we receive the impetus more than once. We sing new songs of praise for Christ’s death, not novel events, and so what? The premises of his argument do not entail the conclusion.

Furthermore, premises go unjustified. Tyler simply assumes a controversial and, to my knowledge, minority view on the nature of repentance to interpret Westminster. Namely, he assumes the purpose of, say, novel prayers for forgiveness is to amend for the novel consequences of novel sins. We sin daily, and that incurs daily guilt, which requires daily forgiveness or requital for which we pray. But why assume repentance or the concept of seeking forgiveness serves this purpose?

For the moment, I’m not interested to prove an alternative. (I’ll get to that later.) It is sufficient to reject Tyler’s argument that I simply point out alternatives to his assumption. There are at least two. One candidate understanding is that repentance counteracts doubt, not guilt, that it reconfirms our sense of peace with God, not the reconciliation itself. Another (my view) is that it remedies disunity with God, the Spirit, and increases intimacy with Him. It does so the way forgiveness in a family setting does not reinstitute children into a family, but presupposes that imperishable status to even motivate reunion.

Tyler provides no reason to believe his view (of the purpose of repentance/seeking forgiveness). He provides no reason to think the Westminster divines expressed his view, let alone shared his it. So his argument is

Even so, Tyler misinterprets the passage he quotes. The article’s author has practiced his right to embolden parts of the quoted WCF passage. My turn:
[W]e pray for ourselves and others, that God of his free grace would, through the obedience and satisfaction of Christ, apprehended and applied by faith. . .
This brief, glorious clause emboldened explodes Tyler’s interpretation. For here, Christ’s messiahship received at faith, which is to say justification, is the means. Justification, not our repentance and prayer, is the means through which God acquits us of sin and guilt unto reconciliation. Forgiveness of a guilt-acquiting nature is accomplished at justification, not afterward. It is striking that Tyler missed this.

Notice three textual features. First, our guilt and its inducing sin is spoken of singularly and definitively. It is not the many different daily sins and many different daily guilts, but the one guilt of all our sinfulness once-and-for-all paid. This is inappropriate on Tyler’s view.

Second, the text clarifies that this acquittal corresponds to communion “in His Beloved.” What would it even mean to have need for requital-forgiveness if the forgiveness we have at justification secures peace with God?

Third and lastly, the text pointedly precludes of Tyler’s view where it clarifies that what covers all sin singularly and definitively conceived, is the means by which God continues to “pardon our daily failings.” As if the singular definitive sin-talk was not enough, the Westminster Divines clarified that what covers our daily sins is the life, death, and resurrection of Christ on our behalf – at least, that is the means, the ground.

Tyler runs roughshod over these features. Specifically, his mistake is to spuriously bifurcate “the guilt and punishment of sin” from “daily failings.” But who says the latter is not just a subset of the former? He provides no rationale.

His reading also results in a contradiction. Christ does and does not secure, via justification, reconciliation with God; or even worse, Christ’s accomplishments can be undone by sins we commit. But surely Christ is not an incompetent or defeatable Messiah and cannot lose his own Messiaship, so neither can we lose its benefits won for us.

Finally, Tyler’s reading falsifies the means stated by which God pardons “daily failings,” which is justification. Either justification secures pardon for all sin whatever; or Tyler simply disagrees with the WCF by proposing that something more than “the obedience and satisfaction of Christ, apprehended and applied by faith” is God’s means to acquittal unto reconciliation.

If Tyler had read his cited material more carefullly, he would perhaps not have made this bungle, for we have elsewhere in the WCF direct repudiation of his view. Consider this from Chapter 11.3.

Christ, by his obedience and death, did fully discharge the debt of all those that are thus justified, and did make a proper, real, and full satisfaction to his Father’s justice in their behalf.

If Christ discharged the debt fully and for all believers, what debt is left requiring requital or sin requiring remission?

Consider also from Chapter 11.5.

God doth continue to forgive the sins of those that are justified; and, although they can never fall from the state of justification, yet they may, by their sins, fall under God’s fatherly displeasure, and not have the light of his countenance restored unto them, until they humble themselves, confess their sins, beg pardon, and renew their faith and repentance.

Like Article 4 in Dort, this WCF section makes clear: the notion of debt and requittal is not the concern of ongoing pardon. “God’s fatherly displeasure” is used in contradistinction from a judicial condemnation over guilt. By analogy, our sins can annoy and require a father’s discipline, but they do not threaten our adoption into his house.

Of course, one could retort that the Westminster Divines were inconsistent. In that case, so much for using the WCF as a standard of so-called “Reformed orthodoxy.” That rebuttal is no good to Tyler.

If we suppose, as Tyler does in his article, that the WCF and Canons of Dort largely concur (or well enough to represent the Reformed position), then we can compare them for interpretive insight. Doing so, we would come to Articles 7 and 8 of the Fifth Head, where the Synod teaches by what means God preserves believers through evils as egregious as David’s. Namely, “in the incorruptible seed of regeneration” “by His Word and Spirit” God “certainly and effectually renews them to repentance” so that “it is not in consequence of their own merits, or strength” (e.g., prayer) “but of God’s free mercy.”

What grounds of mercy? Article 8 clarifies, and this is the kicker. “[I]t is utterly impossible, since. . . intercession and preservation of Christ [cannot] be rendered ineffectual.” Does Tyler mean to contest against both the WCF and Canons of Dort that the finished work of Christ is insufficient to pay our whole debt, received through faith?

Likewise, in reading Article 5 under Dort’s fifth heading, we can see the distinctions the Westminster Divines made between what is and is not risked by post-conversion sin. Namely, the “deadly guilt” corresponds to “God’s fatherly displeasure,” not legal debt.

For these and other eisegetical howlers, we can dismiss the WCF quote mining entirely. There is much more that could be said. If you’re interested, plenty of Reformed historians do not agree with Tyler’s understanding either of the atonement and its relation to faith or of his understanding of ongoing forgiveness. Suffice it to say, Tyler is wont to quote mine by ignoring context, even within the same sentence.

Quote Mining Burgess

We now move to Tyler’s use of Burgess. To sum up, the article takes an already muddy passage and slops on mud for clarity. Read the quote and ask yourself, just what does Burgess have in mind when he distinguishes a non-reiterated justification, on the one hand; and particular acts of imputation and pardon reiterated, on the other? How does justification relate to the atonement except that Christ’s righteousness is given (read: imputed) to believers, and our unrighteousness is given (read: imputed) to him? And, for that matter, how is pardon, at least of our legal debt, to be differentiated from justification’s forensic declaration? What is the difference between imputation reiterated and application of justification?

The answers are not remotely clear without ample context investigation and/or argument, which the article unsurprisingly fails to provide. (It is as unsurprising as it is conspicuous in its otioseness.) The article’s author puts no effort to even disambiguate Burgess’s terms or his distinction even in briefest outline. So a wise man will pass over Tyler’s citation in silence until effort is put in.

Remember, the onus is on the article’s author: unless he can demonstrate beyond reasonable doubt that the Burgess quotes support his conclusion, his appeal to Burgess can be dismissed off-hand. The takeaway from the article’s thin (to put it gently) treatment of Burgess is that the author has failed to meet his onus. Before we move on, I want to be clear: the author could be right about Burgess. An unsound argument does not usually necessitate a false conclusion. But if so, his correctness would be:
despite his glaring quote mining, not because of it,
at the cost of demonstrating Burgess disagrees with Dort and WCF in at least one case.
It’s a loss-loss for Tyler’s position no matter what.

Quote Mining the 39 Articles

Now we reach the 39 Articles of Religion. I will try to be brief, but bear with me, because there is a lot to cover. The mistakes here are many and tremendous. One should note for purposes of evaluating Tyler’s ethos that he self-identifies as Anglican.

First, Tyler commits the same non-sequitar we covered earlier. He argues that, because “departing from the grace given” occasions need for forgiveness which is then warranted by repentance, therefore, “the grace departed from is remission.” This assumes repetition in the effect is repetition of the cause, and it begs the question that prayer pertains to guilt-requital.

Second, if Article XVI agrees with WCF and Dort, as Tyler presumes, then the departure from grace could just as well be the diminution of Spirit’s guidance and the Father’s providential displeasure we’ve already discussed, and not guilt related. It might just as well concern sanctification, not justification. If so, the article repudiates itself.

We come to a difficulty in undrestanding Tyler because he misrepresents Article XVI’s logical structure, drastically. Tyler attributes to it an inference that is not just a misportrayal, but his inference is strangely fallacious. I mean by that, it’s the sort of blunder that pleads explanation from miscommunication rather than logical mistake. It occurs here:
the authors reject the error that forgiveness is far off from the truly penitent. Hence, they conclude forgiveness is granted to those who repent.

That forgiveness is not far off from the truly penitent just means forgiveness is not denied but granted to those who repent. His conclusion restates that premise: “forgiveness is granted to those who repent.” In other words, repentance warrants forgiveness because repentance warrants forgiveness. This is patently question begging, and out of charity, we’ll assume it’s just poor communication.

In any case, it goes to show that Tyler has very poorly internalized Article XVI’s logical structure. Let’s pursue it. To preview, and as best I can make it, it looks something like this:

[
(1) Not all sins are unpardonable after Baptism.
(2) those indwelt by the Holy Spirit can depart “grace.”
(3) those indwelt by the Holy Spirit are by “grace” guaranteed renewal.
(4) Therefore, sinless perfectionism is false and antinomianism is false.
]

The conclusion of Article XVI is easy to find. It condemns sinless perfectionism as well as antinomianism together. Contra antinomianism, a believer always needs repentance. Contra sinless perfectionism, forgiveness is never denied to one who repents. However, the question is what, if anything, this Article says for or against Tyler’s claim about the role of repentance being to reacquire remission of sins.

Note that Article XVI presupposes believers in view. It clarifies its subject with “we have received the Holy Ghost” and ascribes these persons the ability to repent, which presupposes faith. These are Christian converts in view, not unbelievers nor merely regenerate people.

There are two different logical moves the Article puts together. They are not equally clear, though neither is muddled. The first logical move is that Christians can “depart from grace” into sin and by grace return. The question is this: what “grace” is this here – grace generically, remission of sins, cooperation with the Holy Spirit, His indwelling, baptism? It would be silly to assume “grace” is remission of sins without evidence.

The other logical move is that not all sins after baptism are unpardonable. This part is trickier because we were not born in Cranmer’s cultural milieu. Phrases like “deadly sin” and “willingly committed” can’t be understood by just considering how the average Joe on the street in our time uses those words. What do they mean?

As usual, Tyler brashly assumes what is convenient for his beliefs. He equates without argument the Article’s “grace” with remission of sins, and its “deadly sin” with “sins which endanger the soul of the just man unto death.” Beside the lack of evidence for his claim, there are other problems.

For one thing, his interpretation is self-referentially incoherent. That is, it is theologically self-contradictory, as we shall clarify exegetically later. For now, just ask yourself, how do sins endanger souls in the first place? Strictly speaking, they do not. God’s justice threatens the unjust; hell is the judicial punishment for one’s unjust state brought about by sin. So it is impossible for converts who have been made just by Christ’s righteous sacrifice to be threatened by justice. The just are not in danger of justice!

At this point, someone may hand-wave my objection, shrug, then double-down by claiming this Reformed Article XVI teaches guilt for the justified, my objection notwithstanding. If so, Article XVI is not only incoherent, but in direct contradiction of the Solae: Gratia, Fide, and Christus. We would then be right to either fault the Anglican Articles of inconsistency with their own Reformed heritage or reject Anglicanism outright.

(See the double-jeopardy section below for further insight.)

The capstone observation for our purposes is this. Repentance is urged for those who possess the indwelling Spirit of God in faith. More emphatically, those who depart are Christian converts, people who benefit from union with Christ, justification, ongoing sanctification. So we run into the same bifurcation problem as before: why is Tyler divorcing the forgiveness for our individual acts of sin from our union with Christ, justification, and so forth?
Now, if “grace” and “deadly sin” cannot conjoin to insinuate loss of sin-remission, and Article XVI has true converts in view, what might its phraseology mean instead? There are other candidates, but suppose “grace” is spoken of generically, like Paul speaking to the Ephesians of our spiritual blessings in Christ. The “departure” could then overlap with the grieving of the Spirit in the same epistle, which is or overlaps the concepts of the graded loss of the Spirit’s guidance and the inception of disciplinary annoyance. That is, Article XVI could just as well be saying that we suffer a minimization of our sanctification, not a loss of our Christ-wrought status as just according to the law.
Reiterated requests for forgiveness would then pertain to providence (viz. patience from the Father amidst discipline) and sanctification (viz. increase of the Spirit’s intimacy and guidance where it was lessened), not justificatory matters of remission, requital, et al. Return to “grace” is return to consistency with our just identity, not repossession of it. Cranmer would then be speaking with Paul in Ephesians that, though the irresistable Spirit is the downpayment which cannot be forfeited, who quickens our justifying faith that cannot be lost; nevertheless, we can defame our very Spirit-wrought identity (as justified in Christ) by acting as if we are not, even when we are, and in so doing oppose the Spirit’s work of sanctification, always in degree.
The language of “deadly sin” would, on this reading, correspond to difficult passages in the book of Hebrews. Therewith, at least three anti-Tyler theologies can inform Cranmer’s language. The deadly sin could be covenantal language that addresses a mixed congregation. Or, more consistent with my above suggestion, it could be reasoning per impossibile as Paul does in Romans 6. Just as well, it could refer to life-threatening socio-ethical and physical decay of worldliness.
Notice how the passage qualifies the departure in terms of daily practical life, not eternal eschaton. The passage concerns backsliding (“fall into sin”) and sin’s damaging consequences in the present, wherefore we need our lives amended, not our debt paid or our eternal states changed – language Cranmer could have easily used (and elsewhere does) had he so desired.

So far we have only discussed a candidate interpretation. We did this in order to show that Tyler is assuming and slipshod in his treatment. What if we look back on the surrounding Articles, the context of Article XVI? Are we going to discover the same cherry-picking Tyler committed with respect to the Canons of Dort or the Westminster Confession? Indeed, we will. Observe.

Article IX, “Of the Justification of Man,” teaches that we are declared “righteous before God, only for the merit of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ by Faith,” with no mention of outward acts of reiterative repentance or requests of forgiveness. Article XV qualifies the next with its concept of Simul Justus et Peccator as follows: “[A]lthough baptized and born again in Christ, yet offend in many things; and if we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.” Speaking of our daily acts of obedience, like repentance, XII clarifies that they “are the fruits of Faith, and follow after Justification, cannot put away our sins, and endure the severity of God’s judgment. . .that by them a lively Faith may be as evidently known as a tree discerned by the fruit.”

We can clarify our proposed candidate reading by drawing on this metaphor. A person who has experiences diminished Spiritual intimacy is like a tree which suffers diminished life by disease, and may appear all dead. Yet, the tree retains its hidden unkillable root, a root that will always develop life to revitalize or replace any dead bark, fallen branches, or diseased trunk. Tyler has confused the root with trunk and branches and bark. For the threat of deadly sin is like disease and damage to our living tree. It cannot threaten our root, our union with Christ via the indwelling Spirit who safeguards our faith.

But Tyler’s interpretation gets worse. For you see, Article XXXI, “Of the one Oblation of Christ finished upon the Cross,” outright condemns Tyler’s conclusion. Read:

The Offering of Christ once made is that perfect redemption, propitiation, and satisfaction, for all the sins of the whole world, both original and actual; and there is none other satisfaction for sin, but that alone. Wherefore the sacrifices of Masses, in the which it was commonly said, that the Priest did offer Christ for the quick and the dead, to have remission of pain or guilt, were blasphemous fables, and dangerous deceits.

Here, clear as crystal, Cranmer condemns as “blasphemous fables” any notion that sin (read: guilt, debt, unrequital, etc.) is left unsatisfied by Christ’s oblation, another term for propitiation. It leaves no room for daily sins: “both original and actual.” It leaves no room for remission not given already: “none other satisfaction for sin, but that alone.” Does the author mean to contend against Cranmer that Christ’s oblation left divine resolution to any sin unprovided?

At best, if Tyler’s reading of Article XVI is correct, it is not only self-refuting and anti-Reformed, but it also means the 39 Articles are inconsistent. Tyler’s use of the Articles is so bad an eisegesis as to be an affront to their own contents. It should color us skeptical about his use of sources and especially his unstated treatment of Scripture in the background.

In conclusion, the article poorly handles its citations. We have considered four and exegeted three, and that was enough to show that Tyler’s method is what we nowadays call quote mining. In addition, Tyler’s own conception of the Atonement and his own view of God’s timelessness make a mess of his conception of Reformed theology generally, but especially undermine his view of requittal.

The “justified but unfit” view fundamentally contradicts Scripture’s unified testimony about salvation’s permanence and security. It artificially separates what God has joined together: justification from final salvation, adoption from union with Christ, divine forgiveness from eternal security, and the Spirit’s sealing from ultimate glorification.

The biblical evidence is overwhelming and multifaceted:

Judicial: Romans 8:1 declares no condemnation for those in Christ, while Romans 8:33–34 challenges anyone to bring charges against God’s justified elect.

Covenantal: God’s immutable nature (Malachi 3:6) and irrevocable gifts (Romans 11:29) guarantee justification’s permanence.

Christological: Union with Christ makes believers partakers of his righteousness, life, and security—all of which are as permanent as Christ himself.

Pneumatological: The Spirit’s sealing (Ephesians 1:13–14) and indwelling provide God’s guarantee and ongoing power for perseverance.

Eschatological: The golden chain of Romans 8:29–30 links justification directly to glorification without any intermediate probationary state.

Analogical: Scripture’s analogies—adoption, marriage, death/resurrection, citizenship, inheritance—all emphasize permanence rather than conditionality.

The “justified but unfit” view ultimately undermines the gospel’s fundamental assurance, introducing uncertainty precisely where Scripture proclaims unshakeable certainty. It transforms the good news of God’s grace into the mixed news of human cooperation. It makes final salvation depend not on Christ’s finished work but on our ongoing performance.

Against this, Scripture unanimously testifies that those justified by faith have passed permanently from death to life (John 5:24), are perfected forever by one sacrifice (Hebrews 10:14), possess eternal life as a present reality (John 6:47), are sealed by the Spirit until redemption’s day (Ephesians 4:30), and rest secure in the unchanging love of God from which nothing can separate them (Romans 8:35–39).

To be in Christ is to be fit forever—not through our works but through his work, not by our righteousness but by his righteousness, not according to our faithfulness but according to his faithfulness. In him, we are not merely declared fit; we are perfected forever.

As Jude 24–25 triumphantly declares: “Now to him who is able to keep you from stumbling