John Cotton: The Forgotten 17th-Century Puritan – J. Stephen Yuille

John Cotton was born in Derby, England, in 1585. At 13, he attended Cambridge University. William Perkins was at the zenith of his ministry—a preacher known for driving the terrors of the law so deeply into the consciences of his hearers that they trembled under conviction. Cotton didn’t appreciate it. When the bell tolled announcing Perkins’s death, he confessed to being secretly glad that the man who had “laid siege to his heart” was gone.

But Cotton couldn’t escape God’s Spirit. On hearing a sermon by Richard Sibbes, all his false hopes gave way, and he turned to Christ—the Savior of sinners.

Cotton served at Emmanuel College as fellow, lecturer, and dean before accepting a call to pastor St. Botolph’s Church in Boston, Lincolnshire, at age 28. Twenty years later, he was summoned before the High Court to answer the charge of nonconformity—specifically for refusing to kneel at the sacrament and neglecting other church ceremonies. There were only two options: prison or exile.

He resigned his pastorate and sailed for the Massachusetts Bay Colony, arriving in a settlement barely three years old. He served the First Church of Boston for another 20 years before crossing the Charles River on a cold winter’s day and catching a severe cold from which he never recovered. He died on December 23, 1652.

Twenty years in old Boston. Twenty years in new Boston. A life of struggle, persecution, grief, and loss. A tireless ministry. What makes this man still significant today? His political theology? His congregationalism? His postmillennialism? His view on religious liberty? His struggle for purity in worship? His role in the antinomian controversy? His contribution to the sociopolitical development of the colonies? All of it matters. All of it sets him apart. And all of it is in his Works.

But there’s something else—namely, Cotton’s unwavering conviction that “a Christian’s whole spiritual life is Christ.”

This vision of the Christian life appears in a series of sermons he preached on Galatians 2:20 while still ministering in old Boston. “I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.” This life, Cotton argues, consists of three parts.

1. We live the life of justification by faith in Christ.

Cotton is adamant. We don’t look to be justified on the basis of anything in us. We see all we have as loss that we might win Christ, having not a righteousness of our own but that which is “through faith” in him (Phil. 3:7–9). “When the conscience is struck with remorse for sin,” says Cotton, “and the heart is deeply distressed, a man looks at himself as undone. Then, by faith he finds that indeed God has discharged him of all his sins.”

Faith draws us to Christ. It convinces us of the goodness of God. It fixes our heart on Christ—to look to him, depend on him. Cotton pictures a child frightened by a midnight storm who runs to his father and clasps hold of him. That is us: Terrified by the sight of our sin, we hold fast to Christ alone for salvation.

This is encouraging. God sees into our hearts—our self-love corrupting everything we think and do. Our sin is an affront to his holiness. And yet, wonder of wonders, the Son of God draws near to us in the incarnation. He fulfills the law’s demands, bears our sin, and rises triumphantly. The Spirit makes us one with Christ, so all the blessings he purchased now flow freely to us. What Christ was, he was for us. What he did, he did for us. We rest in the fullness of Christ’s perfection, and we find ourselves complete in him.

2. We live the life of sanctification by faith in Christ.

Trusting Christ for justification, Cotton explains, conveys the Spirit of grace into our hearts, by whom we’re made holy. Faith, he says, presents “our work to God in the name of Christ and makes us believe that it will be accepted.”

What Christ was, he was for us. What he did, he did for us.

A young boy gathers flowers for his mother, but with every flower he picks, he inadvertently gathers weeds. His older brother takes the bundle, removes the weeds one by one, and presents a beautiful bouquet. That is what Christ does with our imperfect worship, prayer, service, and obedience. He removes every selfish motive, every imperfect act, every corrupt thought, and presents what remains as acceptable in the Father’s sight.

This is reassuring. Our fumbling prayers aren’t lost on their way to heaven. Our bungling ministries aren’t dismissed as worthless. Our stammering sermons aren’t discarded as failures. Our woefully inadequate attempts at parenting aren’t despised. When we’re discouraged by our apparent defects and weaknesses, faith helps us see that every act of worship and service, every attempt at obedience and faithfulness, every prayer and meditation—however flawed—finds acceptance through Christ’s mediatorial work.

3. We live the life of consolation by faith in Christ.

Cotton doesn’t deny the reality of pain, sadness, or discouragement. He knows we’re on a journey fraught with joys and sorrows, pleasant valleys and perilous mountains. He knows trials come in many forms—illness, bereavement, loneliness, poverty, and persecution. He knows there are sorrows carried in the innermost recesses of the soul, never spoken, never acknowledged.

Cotton knew such sorrow firsthand. Eighteen years of marriage without children. His first wife, Elizabeth, dead from malaria. Separated from his church. Exiled from his homeland. An arduous ocean crossing. Two of his six children dead from smallpox. Through it all, he acknowledged that life isn’t life if it’s overwhelmed with discouragements.

We’re on a journey fraught with joys and sorrows, pleasant valleys and perilous mountains. Cotton knew such sorrow firsthand.

But he wasn’t overwhelmed, because faith refreshes the heart with God’s grace and peace, leads us to cast all our cares on him, shows us that trials come from fatherly love, and reveals the light of God’s countenance in the darkest days. One kind word, one favorable glance, one smile from God satisfies the soul’s deepest longing.

“A Christian’s whole spiritual life is Christ.” Christ for justification, sanctification, and consolation. Christ in old Boston and Christ in new Boston. Christ in the home and Christ in the church. Christ in the light and Christ in the darkness. Christ on the mountain and Christ in the valley. Christ at the beginning and Christ at the end. This is the life we live “by faith in the Son of God,” who loved us and gave himself for us (Gal. 2:20).

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