The scholastic approach to theology has arguably fallen on hard times. To many Christians today, the term “scholastic” may imply a concern with the esoteric and obscure aspects of the faith that majors in the minors at the expense of the “practical.” But is this perception an accurate reflection of the scholastic method? A study of one of its most gifted practitioners, Puritan minister John Arrowsmith (1602-1659), suggests otherwise.

John Arrowsmith was a minister, scholar, college master, and theologian in England during the Puritan era. In these roles, he crossed paths with many names familiar to readers of the Puritans, including Richard Sibbes, Thomas Goodwin, William Strong, and other delegates to the Westminster Assembly (1643-1653). In his biographical introduction to Plans for Holy War, Dr. Chad Van Dixhoorn describes Arrowsmith as one of the assembly’s most respected scholars. Indeed, he was regularly appointed to special committees where he put his pastoral and scholarly wisdom to good use.

Arrowsmith’s various talents were on full display in his final work, Plans for Holy War, published two years before his death. In this lengthy treatise, Arrowsmith traces the theme of spiritual warfare throughout the Scriptures, beginning with Genesis 3:15. Like many Puritan authors, Arrowsmith leaves no stone unturned, mining a myriad of biblical texts for concepts, principles, and applications for the spiritual soldiers under his care. But what makes Arrowsmith stand out among his peers is his command and judicious use of classical sources.

Van Dixhoorn notes:

“The one other aspect of Plans for Holy War that neither the translator’s nor editor’s introductions can fully capture is what the works says about the impressive extent of the author’s scholarship and reading. Here we are reminded again that Arrowsmith was no amateur theologian with Olympic confidence. He was drawing on a rich life of scholarship that is inadequately summarized in terms of statistics.”[1]

While most Puritan ministers were well-versed in these sources, Arrowsmith’s talent for weaving quotes and allusions into his pastoral writings stands out even among his most learned peers. Perhaps this stems from his distinction as a superior Latinist (this first edition of Plans for Holy War was translated from Latin by Dr. David C. Noe), which granted him more immediate command of these sources.

In any case, reading even a few lines of Arrowsmith’s writing reveals that he employed his learning in a manner that helps his readers better understand the truths from each biblical text. Contrary to the caricature of scholasticism as esoteric sophistry, Arrowsmith’s citations (of both Christian and pagan sources) are warm and life-giving. Arrowsmith himself calls this marriage of devotional and academic writing a “Scholastico-Pastoralis” style. As Noe says: 

“His winsome, brilliant, and diligent appropriation of the Christian tradition, as well as his dedication to the truth, his affability, and his wit, are good models not only for students of theology but also for students of the ancient languages Arrowsmith loved and whose study he vigorously championed.”[2]

In the excerpt below from Book 1, Chapter 5, Sections 8-10 of Plans for Holy War, the extent of Arrowsmith’s theological and pastoral insight is on full display. After Arrowsmith has established that all Christians are spiritual soldiers in Christ’s army, he encourages the believer by answering a crucial question:

What resources does Christ provide for His soldiers to claim victory in spiritual combat?

§ 8. First, then, let us discuss the weapons. People think an unarmed man is unwarlike. When it is time to join the battle, then he is called to arms. The weapons Christ supplies are denoted by a twofold character in the sacred literature. They are called “weapons of light” (Rom. 13:12), that is, most gleaming (in Romans 13). And this Paul does, if I am not mistaken, as an allusion to the practice of those same Romans. It was their established practice to dispatch soldiers to the line decked in shining armor. Thus Juvenal: “His silver shone in arms alone.”^[3] Suetonius, when writing about Julius Caesar, says, “He kept his soldiers so stylishly equipped that he decked them out with polished weapons of silver and gold. This was as much for their appearance as that they would grip them more resolutely in battle from fear of loss.”^[4] Onosander’s advice also had this aim: “A general must see to it that his army gleams, equipped with shining armor. For his soldiers look more awe-inspiring when sparks, so to speak, flash off their armor.”^[5] But even the very lightning is cast into shadow when compared to the light of spiritual weapons—I mean the light of knowledge, true godliness, and joy. In another passage, these are called the “weapons of righteousness” (2 Cor. 6:7). Within this title we note a luminous difference between our weapons and worldly ones. For the weapons of the world are generally dedicated to unrighteousness, and “sin is granted legal standing.” This was the poet’s complaint.^[6] We also note that famous passage of Antigonus where he mercilessly lambasts a man who provided him a commentary on the nature of justice while attacking foreign cities. Is there not also this bit about Marius, “who denied that he could hear the laws over the commotion of weapons”? Not to mention that anecdote of Pompey:^[7] “Did I put on armor so that I could meditate on the laws?”^[8] Horace really nailed it when he described Achilles’s savagery like this:

The laws, he claimed, were born for some but not for him to heed.

Whate’er he had he’d gained by might, and force of manly deed.^[9]

§ 9. Second, let us look at the soldiers’ pay. Wars depend on two motivating forces: iron and gold. From the former, weapons are forged, and from the latter, salaries are paid. The mark of a good general is to see to it that, if at all possible, these are not diminished. For, the Apostle says, “Who ever served as a solider at his own expense?” (1 Cor. 9:7). So by this very argument, Paul claims that ministers of the gospel are owed a fair wage. Consequently, nothing is so unfair as when soldiers enjoy the pay owed them, while ministers of the Word are either begrudged their salaries or it is denied that these are due them. This is not the way Christ acts as commander, who “established by a particular law”—ὁ κύριος διέταξε^[10]—“that those who proclaim the gospel should live from the gospel” (1 Cor. 9:14). If men regard this divine regulation I just mentioned (oh, how shameful that some consider this to be petty grasping!), the soldiers of Christ will not have to go without their pay. He will be, O man of God, whoever you are (provided you really are a man of God)—though you be treated very shamefully by the men of this world—the “Almighty will be your most precious gold, and your silver, and your strength” (Job 22:25). This is how the words of Eliphaz are rendered in the Junio-Tremellius version.^[11]

This is the third consideration: a good general will supply provision. A famished army cannot maintain its discipline, as Cassiodorus remarks,^[12] and commonsense proves it. Recall the famous Gaspard de Coligny,^[13] butchered in that Paris slaughterhouse. He had this to say about the army: “If anyone wants to build a brilliant army, he must begin with the stomach.” By this he meant that the daily ration was absolutely indispensable. This is such a keen concern to our general that He does not refuse to nourish us by His own Spirit and feed us on His word. No, He does more than that. So no one in His camp suffer hunger, He even stoops to offer us His own blood for drink and His flesh for food. Scriptural proof of this concept is very clearly given in the Evangelist: “My flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me, and I in him” (John 6:55–56).

§ 10. Fourth, we have the commander’s example. The vigorous commander will go out ahead of His army not merely in words but also in actions. Thus, one of the Caesars—I am not quite sure who, but unless I am mistaken, it was Julius—when something difficult needed doing, would typically address his soldiers like this: “I do not say, ‘Advance, soldiers,’ but, ‘Let us soldier on together.’”^[14] As Lucan said of Cato,^[15]

He went ahead on foot, his spear clutched tight

Before the faces of his host surprised,

And showed them how to bear the task nor did

He give command.^[16]

Abimelech, in the book of Judges, said to his men: “What you have seen me do, do quickly” (Judg. 9:48). And what of Christ? Let us listen to Him directly. “I have given you an example, that as I have done for you, so you should do yourselves” (John 13:15). And let us hear what Peter says about Him: “Christ suffered for us, leaving us an example, that we should follow in His steps” (1 Peter 2:21). Augustine sings in unison with both when he says, “The words of your Word are our lessons, the deeds of your Word our examples.”^[17] In another passage, moreover, he says, “Christ’s whole life was an instruction in proper morality.”^[18] Likewise, Leo wrote, “In vain are we called Christians if we do not become imitators of Christ. He said that He was the way: the teacher’s conversation was to be the student’s pattern, and the servant would choose that humility that his master followed.”^[19]

Fifth, there is help. It is truly the commander’s duty to come to the aid of even a common soldier when he is in danger. Trajan^[20] reportedly dressed his soldiers’ wounds with his own hand.^[21] And when they ran out of bandages, Trajan did not even spare his own clothing but tore it all up for tourniquets and poultices. The sacred Scriptures teach us that Christ our Lord offered up Himself—I do not mean His clothing but His very flesh—to be torn asunder that “by his wounds we might be healed” [Isa. 53:5]. Yet He is always present through His Holy Spirit to bring needed help to Christians and ministers as they toil. For this reason, Paul wrote to the Philippians, “I can do all things through Him who strengthens me: Christ” (Phil. 4:13). He does not, of course, mean all things without exception, for he could not create a world. But when he says “All things,” he means by this phrase whatever is in accord with his own calling, as Calvin notes.^[22] For now, I do not want to tarry over particulars. It will be sufficient just to touch briefly, as it were, on the main points of these topics. Do we need help reading? “Christ opened the disciples’ minds that they might understand the Scriptures” (Luke 14:45). We acknowledge that the Spirit of Christ is the doorkeeper to the holy books. No one may gain access to enter into these inner holy places if Christ does not admit them. Do we need to pray? Let us heed the Apostle as he writes to the Romans: “The Spirit with us bears our weaknesses. For we do not know what we should pray, but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with inexpressible groans” (Rom. 8:26). Augustine, in his Confessions, remarks eloquently as follows: “There is nothing, O Lord, that You hear from me that You have not first spoken to me.”^[23] What about preaching? If there is any power in our words, it is owed to Christ. For Paul says, “The one who worked through Peter as an apostle of the circumcision also worked through me as an apostle among the gentiles” (Gal. 2:8). Finally, what about hearing? The Lord is said to have “opened Lydia’s heart to heed what Paul was saying” (Acts 16:14). And concerning the Spirit of Christ, Gregory Nazianzus says, ᾧ μόνῳ Θεὸς καὶ νοεῖται καὶ ἑρμηνεύεται καὶ ἀκούεται (“Through the Spirit alone God is understood, explained, and heeded”).^[24]