I confess that this is beginning to strike me as a rather remarkable challenge:
Well, yes. If I construct the history that way first, it certainly sounds wonderful.
The Reformation!
Luther! Calvin! Beza! Puritans! Westminster!
The Gospel recovered! The good guys are doing textual criticism!
Yay, team!
Then comes the nineteenth century. Cue the ominous music. Now we have Westcott and Hort, unbelief, naturalism, liberal scholarship, Critical Text methodology and the men in black hats asking, “Did God really say?”
Once I have told myself that story, of course I know how Providence worked.
The Reformation was God's golden age of textual preservation. The manuscripts they had were the manuscripts Providence wanted them to have. The readings they settled upon were the readings Providence wanted settled. The printing press arrived at exactly the right moment. The text became “frozen in ink.” The Churches organically received it.
Done.
Now:
Convince you of what?
After you have already defined the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries as the providential point at which the textual question was settled, what possible evidence could convince you that a manuscript discovered afterward should ever affect a reading?
That is not an argument from Providence. It is an assertion that you know the secret operation of Providence because you are looking backward at an era you admire.
And there is a wonderfully convenient exception built into the theory.
Erasmus creates a slight difficulty. He was not exactly John Owen. He famously opposed Luther on the bondage of the will.
No problem!
God can use imperfect and even wicked men to accomplish holy purposes.
Yes. I completely agree.
But notice how this works.
Erasmus has theological problems and contributes to the TR:
Providence can use flawed men.
Later textual scholars have theological problems and discover or collate manuscripts:
their theology gives us reason to distrust the enterprise.
That is convenient.
Heads, Providence selected the TR.
Tails, Critical Text methodology loses.
And then things become even stranger because the very Reformed men who supposedly lived through this providential textual settlement apparently did not understand that the process had been settled.
The KJV translators themselves put textual alternatives in the margins.
Then I am told those notes may have been “lawful” but were not necessarily beneficial, with Paul enlisted to explain the problem.
Think about what we are saying.
These translators supposedly lived during the providential golden age in which God was bringing the Church to an organically settled textual form, yet apparently they themselves did not understand that informing Christians about manuscript differences was pastorally questionable.
Then Puritans after the KJV continue discussing variant readings.
Other seventeenth-century Reformed theologians continue examining manuscripts.
Eighteenth-century believing scholars continue doing it.
Nineteenth-century confessional Presbyterians continue doing it.
Apparently nobody told all of these men that the text had been “frozen in ink.”
They were living much closer to the Reformation than we are, but somehow we have become better at reading Providence than they were.
That should give us pause.
But this is still the caricature I have corrected repeatedly.
I am not trying to convince you that “Critical Text methodology” is good.
I am not defending Westcott and Hort.
I am not saying older manuscripts automatically win.
I am not saying unbelieving scholars determine Scripture.
I am not saying a committee in Germany gets to decree which verses remain in my Bible.
I am not saying the Church should accept whatever NA29 prints next.
I am asking an enormously simpler question:
May the Church examine the Greek manuscript evidence God has providentially preserved, including evidence that Erasmus, Stephanus and Beza did not possess, and may that evidence ever lead the Church to conclude that one of their fallible editorial decisions was incorrect?
And your answer appears to be:
“No, unless you first convince me that the entire modern Critical Text enterprise is superior to the providentially settled text of the Reformation.”
Why on earth would I have to prove that?
That isn't my position.
Suppose I think the longer ending of Mark is authentic.
Suppose I receive the Pericope Adulterae.
Suppose I think modern textual critics have overweighted certain early witnesses.
Suppose I think ecclesiastical reception matters much more than many modern scholars allow.
Suppose I reject naturalistic textual criticism outright.
And then I look at
Revelation 22:19 and discover that Erasmus lacked Greek at the end of Revelation and retroverted from Latin.
May I look at the surviving Greek evidence and ask whether “tree of life” was originally written?
Apparently before I am permitted to do that, I must first “convince” you of the legitimacy of the entire modern critical enterprise.
That is absurd.
The real burden of proof has been backward throughout this discussion.
You are making the extraordinary historical claim.
You are claiming that somewhere around the Reformation God did something more specific than preserve His Word.
He providentially brought the Church to a particular textual form.
That form became organically settled.
The advent of printing effectively froze it.
And subsequent manuscript evidence cannot legitimately cause the Church to reconsider its readings because doing so would abandon the doctrine of preservation confessed in WCF 1.8.
Fine.
Convince me.
Show me where the Westminster divines say this.
Show me where the Puritans say textual inquiry has reached its providential terminus.
Show me the seventeenth-century Presbyterian who says the appearance of the printing press means that readings outside the received printed editions can no longer alter the Church's judgment.
Show me the eighteenth-century confessional Presbyterian rebuking fellow Presbyterians for continuing to collate manuscripts because Westminster has already settled the textual platform.
Show me this supposedly historic Reformed doctrine actually functioning in Reformed history.
Because what we keep finding instead are believing, orthodox, confessional men continuing to examine manuscript evidence after the supposed “freezing point.”
And every time that evidence appears, the response seems to be another assertion about Providence:
“But surely the Reformation was the time when God would have done it.”
That may feel satisfying.
It may fit a very attractive story about the Reformation.
It may give us a wonderfully clean history with good guys, bad guys and a providential moment when everything was written in steel ink.
But “this is how Providence must have worked because this is how I prefer to understand the history” is not a historical pedigree.
So, yes:
CONVINCE ME.
But convince me of the proposition you are actually asserting, rather than continually demanding that I defend a “Critical Text methodology” I have repeatedly told you I do not hold.