The Living Letter, Written with the Pen of Truth: Being the Substance of a Sermon, Preached at the Obelisk Chapel, St. George's Fields, on Sunday Morning, Sept. 26, 1813

In Short

This text is a printed sermon delivered at the Obelisk Chapel in London in 1813. It centers on the Apostle Paul’s metaphor of Christians as “living epistles” written by the hand of God. Beyond its scriptural exegesis, the work functions as a personal vindication for the author, who uses the pulpit to address accusations of antinomianism—a charge that he taught lawlessness. It remains a compelling historical artifact, capturing the internal conflicts, intense theological rivalries, and the combative atmosphere of nonconformist preaching in the early 1800s.

The Story

The sermon begins with a personal acknowledgement: the author has received a gift of pens from two congregants, an act that prompts him to reflect on his role as a spiritual writer and the reception of his ministry. He addresses the congregation with a candid admission that his work, like all gospel preaching, invites both curses and blessings. Moving to his text—2 Corinthians 3:2-3—he pivots to the Apostle Paul’s experience in Corinth. He highlights how Paul, despite his success in converting many, faced opposition from false teachers who questioned his authority and misrepresented his doctrine as an excuse for immoral living.

The author adopts this narrative as his own. He defines the "writing" of the soul as a divine work, comparing the Holy Spirit’s transformative power to a pen engraving the image of Christ onto the human heart. He argues that this transformation is not mere intellectual assent or external moral posturing, but a fundamental change of nature—a "new heart" that naturally aligns with the laws of God. By equating his own ministry to a "pen" in the hand of the Divine, he argues that he is merely a tool, and that the fruit of his labor—the changed lives of his congregants—serves as the only "letter of recommendation" required to silence his critics.

The argument deepens as the author categorizes the ministers of his day. He draws on the work of William Huntington to describe the "Lord's army" in London, defending the use of simple, even obscure, men to preach the gospel. He then confronts his detractors directly. He systematically refutes the label of "antinomian," arguing that his critics are the true hypocrites—men who possess "Gospel notions in the head but no grace in the heart." He offers a scathing definition of a real antinomian, describing such a person as a "bastard in the congregation of the righteous," someone who claims to follow the law while remaining unchanged in spirit.

The sermon concludes by looking toward the "last great day." The author asserts that the "living letters"—the believers themselves—will be read by all, standing as the ultimate evidence of God’s work. He warns that those who lack this divine impression will bear the image of the devil, destined for exposure and judgment. The text finishes with a postscript, in which the author addresses a local scandal. He details his efforts to clear his name against "scurrilous" pamphlets and false reports circulating in Ipswich, choosing to rely on scripture rather than litigation to weather the storm of public opinion.

How It Unfolds

The call to write The author acknowledges a gift of pens, using them as a springboard to reflect on his duty to preach regardless of the controversy his words provoke. He establishes his reliance on the "Great Head of the Church" to guide his message.

The Apostolic precedent He recounts Paul’s trials in Corinth, drawing a parallel between the Apostle's struggle against false teachers and his own current predicament. He establishes that true authority comes from spiritual transformation, not formal letters of recommendation.

The anatomy of the Spirit He breaks down the metaphor of the "living epistle," explaining that the writing is the image of Christ and the means is the minister as a pen. He emphasizes that the minister is a passive instrument, shaped by divine trials.

The defense against slander He addresses the charge of antinomianism, carefully distinguishing between legitimate Gospel grace and the hollow, legalistic morality of his opponents. He provides a vivid, biting description of what a true hypocrite looks like in the eyes of God.

The final accounting The sermon shifts to the eschatological, picturing the moment when all souls will be revealed for what they truly are. He posits that the "writing" on the heart will be the only thing that survives the final judgment.

The People

J. Church presents himself as a beleaguered but faithful laborer. He wants to be recognized not for his own merit, but as a humble, shaped "pen" in the hand of God. He views his critics as "fiery flying serpents" who seek to destroy his reputation, yet he insists on rising above the fray through patience and adherence to scripture.

The "False Teachers" or critics are the antagonists. They represent the establishment or the jealous rivals who weaponize the term "antinomian" against him. To the author, they are men of "black" hearts who prioritize their reputation and "wonderful works" over the genuine, inward movement of the Spirit.

The "Congregation" or "Epistles" are the true focus of the work. They are the converts—the people whose changed lives serve as the proof of his doctrine. The author treats them with a mixture of pastoral tenderness and authority, urging them to remain steadfast in their "new hearts" despite the noise of the world and the slander of his enemies.

In Its Own Voice

"Some bless, some curse, some believe the things that are spoken, and some believe not, but to the great Head of the Church, I humbly commit my feeble attempt to shew forth his praise."

The author acknowledges that his ministry is inherently divisive, appealing to a higher authority than human approval.

"To this the Apostle alludes; here the minister is compared to a pen, to shew their meaness, their entire dependance, and that they cannot act to any good purpose only as they are led."

Reflecting on his role, the author emphasizes his own lack of inherent power, viewing himself as a tool that requires constant "nibbing or mending" by God.

"He is an enemy to the power of God, to the experience of the just and to every minister of the spirit; and is in union with none but hypocrites, whose uniting ties are the gall of bitterness and the bonds of iniquity."

In his definition of a false believer, the author uses harsh, vivid language to categorize those he believes are sabotaging the church.

What It's Really About

At its core, this sermon explores the tension between outward religious performance and inward spiritual reality. The author is deeply concerned with the question of authority: how does one distinguish between a true minister of God and a "false teacher"? He argues that the only valid proof is the manifestation of the Holy Spirit in the lives of the congregation. The text functions as an argument for the priority of subjective experience—the "writing" on the heart—over the objective, legalistic observance of rules. It asks whether religion is a matter of external conduct or an internal, life-altering transformation.

Why Read It Today

Readers interested in the history of religion or the rhetoric of 19th-century dissent will find this sermon fascinating. It provides a raw, unfiltered look at the way theological disagreements were fought in the early 1800s, complete with the personal grievances and intense, metaphorical language of the era. The text is not for the casual reader; the prose is dense, deeply rooted in biblical allusion, and heavily laden with the specific theological vocabulary of the time.

However, the experience of reading it is strangely intimate. You are not just reading a sermon; you are entering a heated, local conflict. The author’s postscript, where he discusses his struggle against pamphleteers and slanderers, creates a sense of immediacy that is rarely found in more polished, formal theological works. It captures the anxiety of a man who feels his life's work is being misrepresented and who is willing to fight back from the pulpit. While the theological arguments are rigid and clearly situated in a specific Protestant tradition, the human emotion—the frustration, the defensiveness, and the unwavering conviction—is timeless. It is a useful reminder that even centuries ago, the battle for truth was fought with as much personal intensity as it is today.