DEFINING THE ENLIGHTENMENT

In his history of Christian doctrine Dr. John Hannah writes:

Karl Barth (1886-1968) defined the [enlightenment] as "a system founded upon the presupposition of faith in the omnipotence of human ability" (Our Legacy: The History of Christian Doctrine, 58).

MORE EDWARDS: On Our Obligation to Acknowledge Difficult Realities

Today I am, in part, reading Edwards on divine providence. He makes a statement in his work on Original Sin that I think is well worth posting.

Edwards is responding to the argument of John Taylor against the doctrine of original sin, more particularly of imputed guilt. He summarizes Taylor's argument writing, "All may be summed up in this, that Adam and his posterity are not one, but entirely disctinct agents" (394).

Edwards first responds by observing that Taylor is arguing against a "most evident and acknowledged fact" (394). In other words, Taylor is arguing against a fundamental fact of reality, a presupposition. From there Edwards offers an argument from effect to cause. Since all mankind clearly exists in a depraved, damnable condition, "God either thus deals with mankind, because he looks upon them as one with their first father, and so treats them as sinful and guilty by his apostacy; or (which don't mend the matter) he, without viewing them as at all concerned in that affair, but as in every respect perfectly innocent, does nevertheless subject them to this infinitely dreadful calamity" (395). Of course Edwards understands God's dealing with fallen humanity to be based on its oneness with Adam. He also acknowledges that this doctrine is attended with some difficulty, but nonetheless, it is true. He then proceeds to admonish theologians saying:

Hence, however the matter be attended with difficulty, fact obliges us to get over the difficulty, either by finding out some solution, or by shutting our mouths, and acknowledging the weakness and scantiness of our understandings; as we must in innumerable other cases, where apparent and undeniable fact, in God's works of creation and providence, is attended with events and circumstances, the manner and reason of which are difficult to our understandings (395, emphasis mine).

Not only do I think Edwards's admonition is true, but I think the way Edwards says it is appropriate. When my three-year old son persists in stubborn defiance, I raise my voice to communicate an apparent seriousness he has not yet perceived. Some Christian doctrines are so apparent and serious that when we see another resisting them we need to raise our voices, so to speak, in the hopes of communicating the gravity inherent in their rejection. If my son runs wildly into a busy parking lot, I do not whisper for him to stop and come back to me. I yell at the top of my lungs with threatenings intended to communicate a fear he should already have.

But it is also so true that many times theologians must simply stop talking and worship the incomprehensible God. My fellow intern Shawn Newsome has said something a few times during the last year as we discussed theological difficulties that reminds me of Edwards's admonition. He said that one of the most important things he learned in the systematic theology classes at Westminster Theological Seminary was that the doctrine of divine incomprehensibility is the starting point of theology. We work from faith to understanding not vice versa. I think that is basically what Edwards is reminding us of above. When thinking through theological issues that present special difficulties theologians must be very careful in the process of working out a solution not to deny clear revelation, and if we cannot find a solution, we must be willing to "get over the difficulty . . . by shutting our mouths, and acknowledging the weakness and scantiness of our understandings."

A DISCUSSION ON DIVINE OMNIPOTENCE

I have been a contributor to the Conservative Reformed Mafia blog for a few months now. This week I posted an article entitled The Arminian Demiurge (I posted it here a while back too). Well, it sparked a lot of good discussion.

The discussion began in the comments section of my original post. Then a fellow contributor, Nathan Gilmore, whose understanding of divine omnipotence is not Calvinian, responded with a post entitled Playing Erasmus: An Alternative Account of Biblical Omnipotence. I followed with another post entitled A Response to my Dear Friend Erasmus (Nathan): On the Omnipotence of God. The discussion has been very stimulating.

FIRDAY EDWARDS QUOTE: On Dependent Existence

From Original Sin:

All dependent existence whatsoever is in a constant flux, ever passing and returning; renewed every moment, as the colors of bodies are every moment renewed by the light that shines upon them; and all is constantly proceeding from God, as light from the sun. "In him we live, and move, and have our being" (404).

Just priming the pump for my second and final post in the Berkhof vs. Edwards series. In the quote above we see a bit of Edwards's understanding of the relationship between uncreated and created being. Berkhof categorizes Edwards's teaching as implicitly pantheistic. I think he has misunderstood Edwards and am currently focused on studying Edwards's teaching on this and the related issues. I hope to post on it later next week.

BOOK REVIEW: The Wages of Spin (pt. 6)

In part 5 we looked at Chapter 3 "Theology and the Church: Divorce or Remarriage?" Trueman offers four theses for the academy and four for the church toward mending their divorce from one another. The first two theses for the church were:

1. The Church must rethink her emphasis upon experience.
2. The Church needs to revise her worship practices in light of the above.

We continue with the last two theses.

3. The Church needs to acknowledge the role of tradition.

First Trueman points out that all churches have a creed. Even those who claim "No creed but the Bible" have that as their creed. "We've all met them, the no-creed-but-the-Bible guys and gals. What they usually mean is, of course, that, while they have a creed (even if it is 'no creed'), they cannot be bothered to write it down and want to privilege their view of the Bible (the right one) over your view of the Bible (the wrong one)."

Nonetheless, Trueman acknowledges a sense in which it is true that evangelicals have no creed but the Bible. "We acknowledge only one ultimate epistemological source and criterion for judging statements about God: the Bible." The key word in that sentence is "ultimate."

But there is also a sense in which everyone depends on extra-biblical formulations. For instance, there is no trinitarian formula worked out in Scripture. Nowhere does Scripture say that God is one in nature and three in persons. Does that mean Niceno-constantinopolitan trinitarianism is unimportant or any less authoritative? Not at all! To deny trinitarianism is to deny the Christian God.

So Trueman asks a crucial question:

Why the fear of creeds? Well, this is of course part of the wider cultural disposition of modern Western society and is, interestingly enough, one of the key points of contact between the academic world and the evangelical world. While scholars, liberal and conservative, have developed a highly sophisticated biblicism which routinely discounts the thoughts and insights of the church over the centuries into the meaning of the biblical text, so evangelicalism has developed a crude and unsophisticated biblicism which routinely rejects (or, more often, simply ignores as irrelevant) the history of church and theology.

The trouble is that our understanding of God, which comes primarily from our understanding of the Bible, is not to be found in what the text simply says but what it means. "This is where the creeds come in: they are simply summaries of the biblical teaching, using language and concepts which have been publicly endorsed by the church as orthodox throughout the centuries, thus providing an orthodox scheme and vocabulary for theological life."

Also, creeds help give us historical perspective. While this doesn't mean we should accept a creedal formulation on the basis of history alone, and of course every creed should be evaluated against the clear testimony of Scripture, we must beware taking this kind of evaluation to the extreme.

There is a sense, however, in which the pendulum has swung too far in the direction of an automatic hermeneutic of suspicion regarding historic theological creeds and tradition. Nowadays it is more likely to be assumed that the church has generally got it wrong than that she has got anything right. I commented to colleagues just recently in reference to the views on justification and Christology being put forward by a leading British New Testament scholar that I was left wondering if this person, who identifies himself as orthodox, thought the church had managed to get anything right regarding the Bible over the last 1900 years. The attitude of the Reformers was very different: they rejected those traditions which were explicitly rooted in an understanding of the church as having new, revelatory powers after the closing of the canon, but they took very seriously the exegetical, theological, and, above all, the creedal tradition of the church and only modified or, as a very last resort, rejected it at those points where scripture really did make it untenable. The difference is one of attitude and culture, I think: they operated with a basic hermeneutic of trust, albeit biblically critical trust; too often today we operate with a basic hermeneutic of suspicion. Yet, if we take the church seriously and if we take God's promises to the church seriously, such a knee-jerk iconoclasm can only be a bad thing.

Trueman finishes this thesis with a call to a hermeneutic of humility. Notice how Trueman pushes back against the prevailing tendency to absolutise ourselves while relativising everything else.

When some creedal formula or doctrinal position has been held by the church with vigour for some considerable time, then the church of today should think very carefully before deciding to change it in a fundamental way. Our perspective is so limited; our moment in time so insignificant in the grand scheme of things; therefore, we do well to see the church's creeds, confessions and traditions as giving us some perspective by which we may relativise ourselves, our contribution, and our moment in history. I have lost count of the number of times I have heard church leaders declare that 'the church needs to move beyond. . . .' (add your own central tenet of the faith: the cross, the wrath of God, the Trinity, justification by faith, the authority of scripture--I've heard them all cited). Underlying such sentiments are not so much a hopeless naivety but rather a tragic arrogance, an arrogance which implicitly says that the church in the past did not really get the gospel and that only in the present day have we approximated some kind of doctrinal maturity. I would suggest that reflection upon the creeds and confessions of the church might well go someway to overcoming the chronological arrogance (to use C.S. Lewis's phrase) that afflicts the church as it should also do in the academy.

4. The Church needs to realize that not all answers to questions about the Bible are that simple.

Trueman finishes this chapter by pointing out that the doctrine of the perspicuity of Scripture does not mean that all Scripture is equally simple to understand.

I well remember giving a lecture on how the Puritans of the seventeenth century established high standards for ministerial education at a British seminary. At the end of my talk, I was challenged by one individual who saw what I said as running counter to what he took to be the basic thrust of Paul's pastoral letters, of the nature of saving faith, and of scriptural perspicuity. Of course, he read the relevant quotation from a translation of the Bible, implicitly conceding that none of these made void the need for somebody, somewhere to have a good grasp of the vocabulary, grammar, syntax, and historical context of koine Greek. The certainty of faith and the perspicuity of scripture were never intended to mean that all answers to everything were simple, any more than the idea of scriptural sufficiency was intended to mean that the Bible gives answers to all questions about life, such as what time the next bus arrives. Rather, they pointed to the fact that the Bible's basic message was clear and easy to grasp by even the simplest of minds, a point to which the Reformers and Puritans held while at precisely the same time pursuing theological education and study at the highest level. The church needs to understand this once more. She has always faced complicated questions; once, these focused on the doctrine of God; now perhaps, they focus on the relationship of one culture to another, of how the church in the West, with all of her financial and educational resources, can both learn from and serve the church in the South and the East, with her massive numbers, her signs of great blessing from God, but her economic and intellectual dependence upon the North and the West. These are tough areas which demand careful and humble reflection and which cannot be resolved by simplistic claims to truth on one side or the other, claims which are, of course, more often claims to power than to truth.

This is the final part in this series of posts. Special thanks to Nathan and Mark [at CRM] for offering their keen observations and critiques. I apologize to you both if I have been overly defensive of Trueman's work. In my own defense, I think his assessment and suggestions are correct.

If I haven't convinced you yet, I hope you will read The Wages of Spin: Critical Writings on Historic and Contemporary Evangelicalism. Trueman's critique of issues in contemporary evangelicalism is superb, and there is much more that I haven't covered. For instance, one of his last chapters is entitled "The Marcions are Coming!"

MY RESURRECTED HEART SINGS A PSALM TO THE GOD OF RESURRECTION

Psalm 30 (ESV):

1I will extol you, O LORD, for you have drawn me up
and have not let my foes rejoice over me.
2O LORD my God, I cried to you for help,
and you have healed me.
3O LORD, you have brought up my soul from Sheol;
you restored me to life from among those who go down to the pit.

4Sing praises to the LORD, O you his saints,
and give thanks to his holy name.
5For his anger is but for a moment,
and his favor is for a lifetime.
Weeping may tarry for the night,
but joy comes with the morning.

6As for me, I said in my prosperity,
"I shall never be moved."
7By your favor, O LORD,
you made my mountain stand strong;
you hid your face;
I was dismayed.

8To you, O LORD, I cry,
and to the Lord I plead for mercy:
9"What profit is there in my death,
if I go down to the pit?
Will the dust praise you?
Will it tell of your faithfulness?
10Hear, O LORD, and be merciful to me!
O LORD, be my helper!"

11You have turned for me my mourning into dancing;
you have loosed my sackcloth
and clothed me with gladness,
12that my glory may sing your praise and not be silent.
O LORD my God, I will give thanks to you forever!

FRIDAY EDWARDS QUOTE: The Dispositional Nature of God

In The Philosophical Theology of Jonathan Edwards Sang Hyun Lee writes:

Edwards makes a new beginning in Christian theology by conceiving the nature of God as at once fully actual and also dispositional. God is perfect in actuality and also inherently disposed to further actualizations--that is, to repetitions of the prior actuality (245).

This dispositional nature of God is most prevalent in Edwards's treatise The End for Which God Created the World. In chapter 1 section 3 he writes:

This propensity in God to diffuse himself, may be considered as a propensity to himself diffused; or to his own glory existing in its emanation. A respect to himself, or an infinite propensity to and delight in his own glory is that which causes him to incline to its being abundantly diffused, and to delight in the emanation of it. Thus, that nature in a tree, by which it puts forth buds, shoots out branches, and brings forth leaves and fruit, is a disposition that terminates in its own complete self. And so the disposition in the sun to shine, or abundantly to diffuse its fulness, warmth, and brightness, is only a tendency to its own most glorious and complete state. So God looks on the communication of himself, and the emanation of his infinite glory, to belong to the fulness and completeness of himself; as though he were not in his most glorious state without it. Thus the church of Christ, (toward whom and in whom are the emanations of his glory, and the communication of his fulness,) is called the fulness of Christ; as though he were not in his complete state without her; like Adam without Eve. And the church is called the glory of Christ, as the woman is the glory of the man.

Anticipating the objection that his view militates against divine self-sufficiency Edwards writes:

Nor do these things argue any dependence in God on the creature for happiness. Though he has real pleasure in the creature’s holiness and happiness, yet this is not properly any pleasure which he receives from the creature. For these things are what he gives the creature. They are wholly and entirely from him. His rejoicing therein is rather a rejoicing in his own acts, and his own glory expressed in those acts, than a joy derived from the creature. God’s joy is dependent on nothing besides his own act, which he exerts with an absolute and independent power. And yet, in some sense, it can be truly said, that God has the more delight and pleasure for the holiness and happiness of his creatures. Because God should be less happy if he were less good: or if he had not that perfection of nature which consists in a propensity of nature to diffuse his own fullness. And would be less happy, if it were possible for him to be hindered in the exercise of his goodness, and his other perfections, in their proper effects. But he has complete happiness, because he has these perfections, and cannot be hindered in exercising and displaying them in their proper effects. And this surely is not, because he is dependent; but because he is independent on any other that should hinder him.

From this view, it appears, that nothing which has been said is in the least inconsistent with those expressions in Scripture, that signify, “man cannot be profitable to God,” &c. For these expressions plainly mean no more, than that God is absolutely independent of us; that we have nothing of our own, no stock from whence we can give to God; and that no part of his happiness originates from man.

I read a bit from Edwards's Freedom of the Will this week. Inside I found a piece of paper in which I had scribbled some thoughts my last time through. What I wrote down was a thought on how Edwards's doctrine of the human will might be applied to God, particularly with regard to the doctrine of election. As I reflect on that reflection in light of this reflection, I see another connection. Here's my thought:

According to part 2 section 4 of Freedom, a choice cannot be made from indifference. Applying this to the doctrine of election, there must have been something that influenced God's choice of some for salvation. He could not have been indifferent about choosing (i.e. electing) some, or he wouldn't have chosen anyone.

There are only two possible influences:

(1) Something inherent to the creature
(2) Something inherent to God

It could have been (1), if the creature had something that pleased God unto salvation. But Scripture tells us that humanity is totally depraved and lives under the condemning judgment of God. "For God has consigned all to disobedience" (Romans 11:32a). There is no hope for the creature within himself to please God unto salvation.

Therefore it must have been (2). God chose certain individuals for salvation rather than others because of something inherent to God.

But what? What about God motivated God in election? The Bible tells us. He was motivated by himself; he is disposed to demonstrate his glory in election, love extended mercifully. "For God has consigned all to disobedience, that he may have mercy on all" (Romans 11:32). And who is the all? All he chooses to save, vessels of mercy. "[God] says to Moses, 'I will have mercy on whom I have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I have compassion.' So then it depends not on human will or exertion, but on God, who has mercy" (Romans 9:15-16). In his loving election, God demonstrates "the riches of his glory for vessels of mercy" (Romans 9:23b).

Edwards's description of the divine nature in The End, which professor Lee calls "dispositional," is in a sense a reapplication of the biblical principle behind election. Edwards is expanding the idea that God is motivated by something inherent to himself out to the cosmic level, and, even further, to the very nature of God. Just as God is his own motivation and, therefore, his own ultimate end in election, so also he is his own ultimate end in all that he does and is.

Yet love displayed in mercy would not exist apart from a fallen creation, so there is a sense in which God would be incomplete without the fallen creation to redeem, but NOT because he is dependent on anything inherent to the creation and NOT because of any deficiency in himself, but because an aspect of his complete, perfect, glorious, effulgent, and self-sufficient nature is the disposition to express itself through repetition. In the history of redemption God is repeating, among other things, the fullness of his eternal love.

As Lee says of Edwards's thought:

God's creation of the world is not for self-realization of God as God. It is rather the exercise of the disposition of God who already is God. This self-communication of God ad extra is an act of God's self-realization to the extent that it is a further exercise of God's dispositional essence. But it is an act of self-realization in a peculiar sense--namely, as a self extension or repetition of what is already fully actual. So the world is meant to be "an increase, repetition or multiplication" of God's internal fullness (247).

A HOLY WEEK OFFERING: "Light Revealed by Darkness"

Yesterday I was privileged to be able to deliver the Midweek Vespers homily at PCPC. Below is the manuscript of that message.

LIGHT REVEALED BY DARKNESS
M. Jay Bennett
Pastoral Intern
Park Cities Presbyterian Church
3-19-8

Thesis: Part of beholding the glory of God is recognizing that you came to behold it through God’s sovereign work alone.

John 12:37-41: Though he had done so many signs before them, they still did not believe in him, so that the word spoken by the prophet Isaiah might be fulfilled: "Lord, who has believed what he heard from us, and to whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed?" Therefore they could not believe. For again Isaiah said, "He has blinded their eyes and hardened their heart, lest they see with their eyes, and understand with their heart, and turn, and I would heal them." Isaiah said these things because he saw his glory and spoke of him.

Our text for this evening is an explanatory interlude between Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem and his soon betrayal, arrest, and murder at the hands of lawless men. The foremost question in John’s mind, at this point in his gospel, seems to be this: If Jesus is Israel’s Messiah, why has Israel not believed in him? Let me explain. Perhaps you’ve heard the old leadership axiom. It comes in the form of a question and answer. Q. How do you know if you are really a leader? A. Look around to see if anyone is following you. The assumption behind that axiom is that true leadership entails popularity that is perceivable. As Jesus enters Jerusalem for the last time large crowds greet him. He certainly seems to be a leader, perhaps he is the true Messiah. But John is writing in retrospect. He knows where the story is going. He knows that, in less than a week, those same crowds will turn against Jesus. Those who had shouted “Hosanna in the highest!” will soon be shouting “Crucify him!”

Why the drastic change? Two reasons: (1) Because most of those in the crowd simply saw Jesus as a miracle worker who could make their life a bit easier and (2) Because the leaders of Judea, threatened by Jesus’ popularity, never really believed that Jesus was the true Messiah. And they plotted, and they schemed, and later when they presented Jesus to the crowds naked, bloody, and nearly beaten to death, the crowds saw weakness, and they lost interest, and they turned against him. As Isaiah prophesied “He had no form or majesty that we should look at him, and no beauty that we should desire him. He was despised and rejected by men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief; and as one from whom men hide their faces. He was despised, and we esteemed him not. . . . We esteemed him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted” (Isa 53:2b-3, 4b). Early on, when Jesus enters Jerusalem as a triumphant king, the crowds honoring him, while the leaders quietly plot his demise in the background. Later, when Jesus goes to the cross as a convicted criminal, the crowds mock him, while the leaders openly slander him. Is this Israel’s Messiah!? This is the dynamic John has in mind throughout his gospel (cf. Jn 12:18-19). That is the context in which our passage is situated.

Again, given the context, the one question in John’s mind seems to be this: If Jesus is Israel’s Messiah, why has Israel not believed in him? If anyone should be able to discern the identity of the Messiah, shouldn’t it be Israel? In our text, John answers this question by quoting two passages from the prophet Isaiah. But he begins by setting up the tension inherent to the question at hand. Look at verse 37.

Though he had done so many signs before them, they still did not believe in him.

Here John affirms the clarity of the revelation that Jesus Christ is the Messiah. The signs that Christ had done were sufficient evidence to warrant Israel’s belief in him. Before moving forward, John wants us to recognize something of vital importance. The unbelief of the people is justifiably condemnable. In other words, those who rejected Christ are held culpable for the sin of their unbelief. Why? Because they had sufficient evidence available to warrant belief in Jesus as Messiah. “He had done so many signs before them.”

But while the signs Jesus performed were sufficient evidence to warrant belief in Jesus as Messiah, they were not efficient to actually cause one to believe. Why? Because trusting Christ unto salvation is not a matter of gathering evidence in order to make a reasoned decision. Trusting Christ is a miracle of God procured for the elect by the atonement of Jesus Christ.

Let’s read further. Why has Israel not believed? Look beginning at verse 38.

. . . so that the word spoken by the prophet Isaiah might be fulfilled: "Lord, who has believed what he heard from us, and to whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed?" Therefore they could not believe. For again Isaiah said, "He has blinded their eyes and hardened their heart, lest they see with their eyes, and understand with their heart, and turn, and I would heal them."

According to God’s own word, why has Israel not believed in their Messiah? Why do the crowds and the leaders turn against him? Because God has not supernaturally revealed him to them. “Therefore,” John says in verse 39, “they could not believe.” Not only has God not revealed himself to them, but “he has blinded their eyes and hardened their heart.” That is why most of Israel did not believe in their Messiah. That is why in less than a week the crowds that had welcomed Jesus into the city with “Hosannas!” would be calling for his crucifixion.

So what is the point? Besides answering the question of why Israel has not believed in Jesus, even though he is their Messiah, I think John is fundamentally teaching us this: Part of beholding the glory of God is recognizing that you came to behold it through God’s sovereign work alone.

This is one of the major themes of John’s gospel. He begins in chapter 1 saying of Jesus, “He was in the world, and the world was made through him, yet the world did not know him. He came to his own, and his own people did not receive him.” (Jn 1:10-11). And then in chapter 3, Jesus tells Nicodemus, “"Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born again he cannot see the kingdom of God" (Jn. 3:3). And in chapter 6 he tells the crowds, “All that the Father gives to me will come to me” and “No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws him” (Jn. 6:37a, 44a). And then in chapter 10 the temple leaders ask, “How long will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Christ, tell us plainly.” And how does Jesus respond? “I told you, and you do not believe. The works I do in my Father’s name bear witness about me, but you do not believe because you are not part of my flock. My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all, and no one is able to snatch them out of the Father’s hand. I and the Father are one.”

Isaiah understood and prophesied exactly what John is teaching throughout his gospel. What was the content of Isaiah’s prophesy? That coming to trust in Christ is a work of God alone. God alone reveals his glory to his people. Look at how John concludes his quote from Isaiah in verse 41.

Isaiah said these things because he saw his glory and spoke of him.

How did he come to prophesy about how one comes to trust the Messiah? Isaiah said these things because he saw his glory. And part of seeing the glory of God for Isaiah was recognizing that he had come to see it through God’s sovereign work alone. The same is true for all humanity. The same is true for you and me.

Friend, you did not come to Christ because you saw evidence of his work. You did not come to Christ because you were smarter or more righteous than others. Banish the thought. You did not come to Christ because you were of a more glorious family, race, nation or position than others. You came to Christ through God’s sovereign work alone. God alone reveals his Son to his people.

Indeed, your coming to Christ and beholding his glory is part of what Christ purchased for you at the cross. When Christ died in the place of his people, suffering their punishment, that punishment included the penalty due for their unbelief. You and I were once in rebellion, shouting with the crowds, “Crucify him!” But because he was crucified for us, our rebellious shouts have been forgiven. Rather than shouting “Crucify him!” we now shout “Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord, for he was crucified for me!” So rejoice this Holy Week as you reflect on what Christ has actually purchased for you. He purchased the very faith by which you have been justified before God.

In conclusion, listen to the words of our denomination’s confession. The Westminster Confession of Faith chapter 8 “Of Christ the Mediator” section 8 reads:

To all those for whom Christ has purchased redemption, He does certainly and effectually apply and communicate the same; making intercession for them, and revealing unto them, in and by the word, the mysteries of salvation; effectually persuading them by His Spirit to believe and obey, and governing their hearts by His word and Spirit; overcoming all their enemies by His almighty power and wisdom, in such manner, and ways, as are most consonant to His wonderful and unsearchable dispensation.

Amen.

BERKHOF vs. EDWARDS: On Inability

Introduction

My colleague Matt Bradley is currently reading through Louis Berkhof's Systematic Theology. Both of us agree that it is a foundational work in Reformed theology. I have been enriched by my study of it greatly. His chapter on "The Dual Aspect of the Covenant" provided the breakthrough I needed to understand the Reformed view of covenant membership. I thank God for men like Berkhof who faithfully give themselves in service to the church to help it love its God with all its mind.

Yesterday Matt showed me a couple of sections where Berkhof disagrees with Jonathan Edwards. Given Berkhof's stature among Reformed theologians and my appreciation for Edwards, I was immediately interested. In this series of posts I will examine Berkhof's critiques and offer responses either in defense of Edwards's teaching or in recognition that, according to my own evaluation, (heaven forbid!) Berkhof is right.

Round One

The first section is from Chapter 4 "Sin in the Life of the Human Race." It is on the subject of total inability. Berkhof defines the doctrine of total inability writing:

When we speak of man's corruption as total inability, we mean two things: (1) that the unrenewed sinner cannot do any act, however insignificant, which fundamentally meets with God's approval and answers to the demands of God's holy law; and (2) that he cannot change his fundamental preference for sin and self to love for God, nor even make an approach to such a change. In a word he is unable to do any spiritual good (247).

Berkhof and Edwards are basically in agreement on this point. But Edwards goes a bit further in his analysis of the doctrine of inability in his book Freedom of the Will. Berkhof disagrees with a central distinction in Edwards's doctrine of the will.

Edwards begins his classic work in the usual fashion, defining key terms. The will is "that by which the mind chooses any thing" (137). Notice the distinction between the mind and the will. Later Edwards will make the case for understanding the will as a non-power. This is fundamentally linked to his definition of choice. What is choice? Edwards writes, "I trust it will be allowed by all, that in every act of will there is an act of choice; that in every volition there is a preference, or a prevailing inclination of the soul, whereby the soul, at that instant, is out of a state of perfect indifference, with respect to the direct object of the volition" (140). In other words, choice is "a prevailing inclination of the soul" based on understood options. Therefore, while the will itself is a faculty by which choices are made, it does not have within itself the power of choosing. The will is not self-determined. The power of choosing comes from the inclinations of the soul (i.e. the affections), which are informed by understood options (i.e. the mind or understanding).

With those definitions in place we are now in a position to understand the distinction Edwards makes with which Berkhof disapproves. That distinction is between natural ability and moral ability.

1. Natural ability- The ability to do whatever one's nature allows. With respect to human willing, it is the ability to do whatever one pleases. Edwards writes, "A man never, in any instance, wills any thing contrary to his desires, or desires any thing contrary to his will" (139). Or in other words, "the will is always determined by the strongest motive" (142).
   
2. Moral ability- The inclination to do what is pleasing to God.
   

Berkhof lodges four critiques against this distinction in Edwards's understanding of the will.

1. "It has no warrant in Scripture, which teaches consistently that man is not able to do what is required of him."
2. "It is essentially ambiguous and misleading: the possession of the requisite faculties to do spiritual good does not yet constitute an ability to do it."
3. "'Natural' is not a proper antithesis of 'moral,' for a thing may be both at the same time; and the inability of man is also natural in an important sense, that is, as being incident to his nature in its present state as naturally propagated."
4. "The language does not accurately express the important distinction intended; what is meant is that it is moral, and not either physical or constitutional; that it has its ground, not in the want of any faculty, but in the corrupt moral state of the faculties, and of the disposition of the heart" (247-48).
   

Let's look at each in turn:

1. "It has no warrant in Scripture, which teaches consistently that man is not able to do what is required of him."

This is, respectfully, a baseless critique. Edwards's distinction does not militate against the Reformed doctrine of total inability. Unrenewed humanity is unable to do what God requires of it, but it is not unable to do what is required of it in every sense. In other words, there is a sense in which humanity is able to do what is required of it whether renewed or not. That is natural ability. But there is another sense in which unrenewed humanity is unable to do what is required of it. That is moral inability. Scripture teaches both senses.

A classic passage on moral inability is found in John 6. Jesus is recorded as saying, "No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws him" (John 6:44a). In context, we understand what Jesus means by the phrase "come to me" is "trust me unto salvation." No one can trust Jesus unto salvation apart from the Father's drawing. That is moral inability.

But the Scriptures also speak of a sense in which every man is free to do what he knows is right, namely ascribe due honor and gratitude to God. Paul writes in Romans 1:20-21, "For his invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made. So they are without excuse. For although they knew God, they did not honor him as God or give thanks to him, but they became futile in their thinking, and their foolish hearts were darkened." God has clearly revealed himself to humanity. Humanity, even though fallen and dead in sin (i.e. moral inability), possesses ability in some sense to perceive God's self-revelation and recognize that he is deserving of our honor and gratitude. And Paul does not regard honor and gratitude as things unrenewed humans are unable to perform. Indeed, we are quite able to honor whatever we esteem as honorable. So Paul writes further, "They exchanged the truth about God for a lie and worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator, who is blessed forever! Amen" (Romans 1:25b). The unrenewed human, while totally unable to love God, is not thereby unable to love. He is unable to love God, because he hates God (i.e. moral inability), but not because he cannot love. He is still able to love, because he still bears the image of God (i.e. natural ability).

Therefore Edwards, I think, rightly understood that the fundamental problem of unrenewed humanity is not that it doesn't have the natural ability to please God. Again, God has not commanded us to do anything beyond our natural capabilities as his image bearers. The unrenewed human, naturally speaking, can please God if he will. But he won't. The fundamental problem with the unrenewed human is not that he can't; it is that he won't. The unrenewed human doesn't desire God; he doesn't want to please God; he knowingly and willingly hates God; therefore his sins condemn him. This is what is meant by moral inability. What the unrenewed human needs is not a new natural faculty, but a renewed natural faculty. He needs a new habitual ordering (i.e. state) of the soul to cause him to forsake sin and love God. That is the miracle of regeneration.

2. "It is essentially ambiguous and misleading: the possession of the requisite faculties to do spiritual good does not yet constitute an ability to do it."


Here Berkhof admits that he agrees with Edwards's teaching that we do not gain new faculties in regeneration. In that sense, we are equipped to do spiritual good prior to regeneration. We have all the natural faculties we need. But, Berkhof says, simple possession of the natural faculties does not constitute ability in any sense. Berkhof misses the importance of maintaining a doctrine of natural ability on this point.

Here is the problem: If God were to require us to do something that we are naturally unable to do, then he would be unjust. To put it in more practical terms, if God were to require us to be omnipresent, and then condemn us for failing to meet this requirement, then he would be unjust. Human beings are, by nature, unipresent.

In the history of creation God has never asked his people to do anything they were naturally unable to do. What is the first and greatest command? "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind." (Matthew 22:37b). In other words you shall worship God with all of who you are above all other things. Paul reminds us in Romans 1:25 that unrenewed humanity has natural ability to to do just that. They do worship, but they refuse to worship God. That is why "they are without excuse" (Romans 1:20b).

Moreover, every human being is naturally able to not murder, not commit adultery, not steal, not bear false witness, honor his father and mother, and love his neighbor as himself. There is nothing, naturally speaking, that hinders us from doing these things. Remember Jesus' encounter with the rich young ruler recorded in Matthew 19:16-30? The list above is the same six commandments Jesus gave to him when he asked, "Teacher, what good deed must I do to have eternal life?" After receiving Jesus' answer, the young man replied, "All these I have kept. What do I still lack?" How did Jesus respond? Interestingly, he didn't challenge the young man's assertion that he had kept all those commandments. He didn't say, "What you need to realize is that you were actually unable to keep the commandments, because no one can really do that." Instead, he replied, "If you would be perfect, go, sell what you possess and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me." Again, Jesus gave him something that he could do, naturally speaking. It would have been very easy for the young man to sell all his possessions and go off to follow Jesus. Indeed, some of Jesus' disciples had done just that. This man's problem was not his natural ability. His problem was his moral ability. His problem was that he had no desire to do what Jesus had asked. He simply did not want Christ more than his own possessions. His treasure was own earth rather than in heaven. That prevailing inclination could only be overcome by a miracle of God. He needed to be born again from above.

Rather than causing ambiguity, Edwards's distinction helps clarify this biblical dynamic with respect to the freedom and bondage of the human will.

3. 'Natural' is not a proper antithesis of 'moral,' for a thing may be both at the same time; and the inability of man is also natural in an important sense, that is, as being incident to his nature in its present state as naturally propagated.

Edwards would agree with Berkhof on this point. Indeed, the adjectival category "natural" is not antithetical to "moral." There is significant overlap in the way these two concepts relate in Edwards's thought. Also, there is a sense in which our corruption (i.e. moral inability) is incident to our natural propagation (i.e. being in Adam). But Berkhof seems to confuse the concept of "nature" itself with a "state of nature."

Adam's nature prior to the fall is identical to his nature after the fall. For that matter our natures, even in their unrenewed states, are identical to Adam's pre-fall nature. The difference is not the thing itself but the state or condition of the thing. After the fall, human nature exists in a state of total depravity. While we are in a depraved state; we are not therefore essentially depraved (i.e. fundamentally defined by our depravity). If we were essentially depraved, then we would no longer be human, and the man Christ Jesus could not have been our penal substitute. Berkhof seems to miss the distinction between "nature" and "state of nature" at this point.

4. The language does not accurately express the important distinction intended; what is meant is that it is moral, and not either physical or constitutional; that it has its ground, not in the want of any faculty, but in the corrupt moral state of the faculties, and of the disposition of the heart.

Berkhof seems to be saying that the idea of natural ability has no place in the discussion of total inability. He defines total inability for the unrenewed human as "In a word he is unable to do any spiritual good" (247, emphasis mine). That is a correct definition. It is the same definition as that offered by The Westminster Confession of Faith Chapter 9 "Of Free Will" section 3, "Man by his fall into a state of sin, hath wholly lost all ability of will to any spiritual good accompanying salvation" (emphasis mine). This is the doctrine of total inability.

But what do Berkhof and the divines mean by the adjective "spiritual?" An understanding of that concept requires an understanding human nature. The spirit of a man is an aspect of his nature. This is how the Westminster divines approached the doctrine of inability in Chapter 9 "Of Free Will" sections 1-3. Let's take a look.

First the divines confess the doctrine of natural ability. Section 1 reads, "God has endued the will of man with that natural liberty, that is neither forced, nor, by any absolute necessity of nature, determined good, or evil" (emphasis mine). The divines understood that in order to begin to speak of a state of the will, one must first understand the will itself; therefore they teach that the nature of the will is to have liberty that is not forced. In other words, man, according to his very nature, is endowed with freedom of choice (i.e. free will), which is the ability to choose according to his prevailing inclinations. This natural liberty exists in all human beings. It is of their nature. This is the same fundamental distinction Edwards is making when he speaks of natural ability.

Next the divines confess the doctrine of moral ability. Section 2 reads, "Man, in his state of innocency, had freedom, and power to will and to do that which was good and well pleasing to God; but yet, mutably, so that he might fall from it." Here we see the divines speaking of the moral ability of humanity in terms of a state, a "state of innocency." That state is described as being able to will what is pleasing to God. This is moral ability.

Finally the divines confess the doctrine of moral inability. Section 3 reads, "Man by his fall into a state of sin, hath wholly lost all ability of will to any spiritual good accompanying salvation" (emphasis mine). Notice that the doctrine of total inability is also described in terms of state, "a state of sin." It is understood as a condition of nature, a moral condition. This is exactly how Edwards understands the doctrine of total inability.

If Berkhof intends to assert that Edwards's development of the distinction between natural and moral ability is problematic because the concept of nature has no place in a discussion of total inability, he has misunderstood Edwards. Edwards would agree that the doctrine of total inability is subsumed under the rubric of moral ability as distinct from natural ability. But that does not mean the distinction has no place in the broader discussion. Indeed, understanding the natural abilities of the will is foundational to understanding its moral abilities and, therefore, to understanding the doctrine of total inability. Since total inability is a state of human nature, we should not expect to understand it without first understanding human nature itself.

Conclusion

In conclusion, I think Berkhof's critique of Edwards's distinction between natural and moral ability is unfounded. Edwards would have been in agreement with the basic thrust of Berkhof's understanding. But Berkhof's points of difference are the result of an unnatural limiting of the scope of the original discussion in which Edwards was a part. The doctrine of total inability is a subset under the larger rubric of free will, which necessarily includes a doctrine of natural ability. Furthermore, Berkhof's charges (e.g. "no warrant in Scripture," "essentially ambiguous and misleading," "'natural' is not a proper antithesis of 'moral,'" and that natural ability has no part in the discussion of total inability) are demonstrably baseless.

Nonetheless, let me reiterate my high regard for the work of Dr. Louis Berkhof. I wish I could have sat in his class to hear him lecture and feel his spirit. Thankfully, he has left us a wonderful legacy in his Systematic Theology. I have benefited from it greatly. If you don't have a copy, I encourage you to go out and buy it asap. It is currently listed on Amazon for $31.50--well worth every penny!

THE ARMINIAN DEMIURGE

[Also posted at CRM with discussion in the comments section and further posts here and here]

Jared Nelson and I have had the privilege of teaching a great group of folks this semester at PCPC's Midweek. The class is called 12 Questions that have Shaped Church History. The subject is the history of doctrine in the Christian church. Each class is titled with a question. My last class was on this question: "How are the full benefits of Christ's atonement acquired?" We covered the development of the doctrine of particular redemption in the years following the Protestant and Roman Catholic reformations. A large portion time was spent discussing the Five Articles of Remonstrance delivered by the Arminians to the Dutch Reformed Church early in the 17th century.

I began the class as usual with a quick review of the questions we had addressed for each prior class. The first class dealt with the question "How has God revealed himself?" We examined the way Gnosticism, Ebionism, Marcionism, and Montanism understood divine revelation.

Gnosticism teaches that God reveals himself through a secret, higher, spiritual knowledge. The problem with humanity is ignorance; therefore the solution (i.e. gospel) is attaining a higher knowledge. Attaining higher knowledge is what saves people from evil.

You might then ask "What evil?" or "Where did this evil come from?" And that would be a good question. Philosophers and theologians have wrestled with the problem of the origin of evil for thousands of years. The way a system answers the question of the origin of evil will determine much of its makeup from that point forward. Before we move forward let me briefly clarify what I mean by the problem of evil. Simply stated the problem is this:

1. The world was created by an all-powerful and all-loving God.
2. Evil exists in the creation.
3. If God were all-powerful, he could immediately destroy evil.
4. If God were all-loving, he would immediately destroy evil.
5. Therefore, God cannot be both all-powerful and all-loving.

Gnostics explained the problem of the origin of evil by denying divine omnipotence through dualism (i.e. two-principle system). Dualism is a term used to describe any worldview that posits two fundamental opposing principles to explain the origin of evil; its opposite is monism (i.e. one-principle system). There are of course variations of dualism; but dualists basically understand evil to be the result of a fundamental principle which is, at least in some respect, outside the control of the good principle. In Gnosticism this fundamental principle is called the demiurge. The demiurge is the cause of the existence of evil in the world.

So what does this have to do Arminianism? Well, as my class discussed the difference between the Reformed definition of grace and the Arminian definition of grace, I made this statement (learned from my former theology professor Dr. John D. Hannah): "According to Reformed theology, grace isn't grace if it isn't discriminatory." Here's what I mean:

According to Arminianism

1. There will be two distinct types of people in the end, the redeemed and the damned.
2. Since all begin in the same place (i.e. as sinners equally deserving to be damned), something must cause the final distinction.
3. The work of prevenient grace is applied by God universally so that all who hear the gospel can either believe it unto salvation or reject it and stay on the same trajectory of damnation.
4. Therefore, the distinction between the redeemed and the damned is ultimately caused by the sinner himself.

According to Calvinism

1. There will be two distinct types of people in the end, the redeemed and the damned.
2. Since all begin in the same place (i.e. as sinners equally deserving to be damned), something must cause the final distinction.
3. The work of prevenient grace is applied by God discriminately so that all who receive it believe the gospel unto salvation.
4. Therefore, the distinction between the redeemed and the damned is ultimately caused by God alone.

The reformed understanding is that grace cannot be grace if it is not discriminatory, because if it is not discriminatory, the sinner ultimately makes the discrimination for himself with regard to his final end. If a sinner makes that distinction himself, then he is left with something of himself to boast about in his salvation. While many others who had the same opportunity and ability to believe did not believe, he did. That is ultimately why he enjoys a better end than them.

As I was thinking through this with the class, I made a connection with regard to dualism and the problem of evil. What the Arminian system is fundamentally doing through its understanding of grace is adopting a measure of dualism in order to resolve the problem of the origin of evil. Notwithstanding the wills of angels, the two fundamental opposing principles in the world, according to Arminianism, are the divine will and individual human wills. In a manner of speaking, the human will is the demiurge of Arminianism.

That's all well and good, but what's the point? Is it necessarily a bad thing that Arminianism is rooted in dualism?

I think it is for one reason: Dualism, by definition, requires one principle to be powerless to the other at some point, which means that neither principle can be omnipotent, and therefore neither can be God. Dualism shuts God out of an area of his creation, and therefore destroys the very concept of divinity altogether. In giving the human will the power of self-determination, it gives the creature the power, at least with respect to his moral decisions, to create ex nihilo.

This is why Jonathan Edwards worked so hard to stave off the Arminian insurgence into the church of his own day. His treatise Freedom of the Will is a fruit of that labor. Paul Ramsey writes of Edwards's thoughts on the Arminian doctrine of the human will:

For Edwards as a theologian the issue is a simple one: either contingency and the liberty of self-determination must be run out of this world, or God will be shut out. "If there be no absurdity or difficulty in supposing one thing to start out of nonexistence, into being, of itself without a cause; then there is no absurdity or difficulty in supposing the same of millions of millions" (p. 183) ("Editor's Introduction," Freedom of the Will vol. 1 of The Works of Jonathan Edwards, [New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1957], 9).

GRACE AND ATONEMENT (pt. 2): Does common grace require atonement?

In part one we asked this question: Does redemptive grace require atonement? We finished by understanding that, according to Reformed theology, without the atonement redemption could not be accomplished, since it would impugn the righteousness of God. Therefore, redemptive grace does require the atonement offered in Christ's blood. However, this in no way diminishes the graciousness of the work of redemption, since Christ's substitution on behalf of his elect is totally unmerited by them.

The syllogism behind the assertion above is this:

1. Because God is just, the penalty for sin must be paid, even for those he forgives in the working of redemptive grace.
   
2. And the penalty for the sin of those God forgives in the working of redemptive grace is satisfied through atonement.
   
3. Therefore, atonement is required in the working of redemptive grace.

The Initial Question

Now we get to the genesis of this two-part series. Recently my friend Jared Nelson began to think through the relationship between the cross-work of Christ and God's common grace. He asked me to read his thoughts and comment. What follows are my most recent thoughts on this question: Does common grace require atonement?

Given the syllogism above, we see that the atonement offered in Christ's blood is fundamentally a payment for the sins of those whom God redeems. By grace, Christ was the divinely appointed substitute for his people. He suffered and died in their place so that God could redeem them without impugning his justice. Therefore, the cross-work of Christ is fundamentally a satisfaction of divine justice.

In light of that, a new question can be asked to help us reach an answer to the first: Would the extension of common grace be a violation of divine justice? Or to put it another way, would it malign the faithfulness of God with respect to his original covenant threat (Genesis 2:17; Romans 6:23a)? In the end would anyone be able to point to God's common grace as grounds for injustice on his part?

With respect to the reprobate, it would not. In that case, God's justice is finally satisfied through the death of the sinner himself. Therefore, since the justice of God is not finally violated, whether common grace is extended or not, then the work of common grace with respect to the reprobate does not depend on the atoning death of Christ.

To further simplify here's a syllogism:

1. The satisfaction of divine justice in the work of grace with respect to the reprobate requires the death of the reprobate himself.
   
2. And atonement comes through the death of a divinely appointed substitute.
   
3. Therefore, atonement is not required in the work of common grace with respect to the reprobate.

However, the work of common grace with respect to the elect does require atonement. Here's that syllogism:

1. The satisfaction of divine justice in the work of grace with respect to the elect requires atonement.
2. Common grace is an aspect of the work of grace with respect to the elect.
3. Therefore, atonement is required in the work of common grace with respect to the elect.
   

A Second Question

Jared also asked a great question referring to the original covenant threat of Genesis 2:17:

But when God is forebearant in regards to the reprobate, not killing them instantly but allowing them to live, is this a result of the cross, as God said "in the day you eat of it, you will surely die." Was this patience in letting Adam live bought in the cross?

My response began by referring back to the syllogism above:

According to (1) above, in order for divine forbearance to require atonement we would have to be able to argue that it somehow impugns divine justice. But I don't think we can make a case for that.

Here's why:

With regard to the phrase included in the covenant threat of Genesis 2:17, "in the day" or "when", if we understand the phrase to mean immediacy, which I think is correct, then another question emerges. What does "you will surely die mean?" If we understand "you will surely die" to mean physical death, then we have a problem regardless of whether we are discussing redemptive or common grace. Either we must revise our understanding of "in the day" away from immediacy, or God could be implicated for injustice in his forbearance, since the only way God could truly be just is if the atonement also occurred "in the day." Follow me here.

Now, it is surely proper to understand the benefits of Christ's atonement as being applied chronologically prior to its historical occurrence. The Westminster Confession of Faith chapter 8 "Of Christ the Mediator" section 6 provides a nice summary statement of that idea:

Although the work of redemption was not actually wrought by Christ till after His incarnation, yet the virtue, efficacy, and benefits thereof were communicated unto the elect, in all ages successively from the beginning of the world, in and by those promises, types, and sacrifices, wherein He was revealed, and signified to be the seed of the woman which should bruise the serpent's head; and the Lamb slain from the beginning of the world; being yesterday and today the same, and forever.

But applying the benefits of Christ's atonement and the implication of injustice in this case are two different things.

The phrase "in the day," from the original covenant threat, would seem to demand immediate payment. How then could a payment made thousands of years later be just? And if the payment made by Christ was not just, how did it propitiate divine wrath? And if it did not propitiate divine wrath, then exactly what benefits are being applied retrogressively? If we understand the threat "in the day you eat of it, you will surely die," to be referring to immediate physical death, we are left with a paradox.

But there are, I think, at least two ways to understand the text in order to resolve this dilemma. One could interpret it as a threat of the certainty of future penalty rather than immediate penalty. In other words, future physical death would be made certain in the day the fruit was eaten. I don't like that interpretation. I think the phrase "in the day" is meant to communicate immediacy.

However, one could also interpret the threat of death to mean spiritual death. I think this is a better interpretation. Here's why:

Paul uses death as an image of condemnation in Romans 5:12, 18a:

v. 12- "Therefore, just as sin came into the world through one man, and death through sin, and so death spread to all men because all sinned."

v. 18a- "Therefore, as one trespass led to condemnation for all men."

The words "sin" and "trespass" are parallel, and "death" and "condemnation" are parallel. While this is not an airtight argument since parallelism does not require equation, Paul could be equating physical life in a state of condemnation with a concept of spiritual death. This possibility becomes all the more probable when we read from Paul in Ephesians 2:1: "And you were dead in the trespasses and sins." In this case Paul must be thinking of death in terms simultaneous with physical life. He says to those physically alive in the present, "You were dead" (i.e. in the past). What does he mean? He explains, "in the trespasses and sins." Paul has a broader concept of death than simply physical death. He understands that living in a state of condemnation is death in a spiritual sense.

Therefore, I think it is best to interpret the covenant threat of death in Genesis 2:17 as being the threat of entering into a state of condemnation. "In the day you eat of it, you will surely die," could then be paraphrased, "In the day you eat of it, you will surely enter into condemnation."

Physical death is just a shadow of the punishment of condemnation. It is an aspect of the condemning judgment pronounced by God "in the day" in Genesis 3. God declared: "By the sweat of your face you shall eat bread, till you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; for you are dust, and to dust you shall return" (Genesis 3:19).

Conclusion

So given the argument above, I don't think divine forbearance extended toward the reprobate sinner requires atonement. The reprobate sinner who enjoys the forbearance of God for a season is still under judgment in a state of condemnation and incurring more guilt all along. God's justice against that guilt will be satisfied in the ultimate condemnation of the reprobate himself.

However, I do think divine forbearance extended to the elect sinner requires atonement. The elect sinner who enjoys the forbearance of God for a season is also incurring a debt of guilt that must be paid unless the justice of God be impugned. That debt is paid in the condemnation of his divinely appointed substitute, the Lord Jesus Christ.

So in conclusion, how should we answer our original question? Does common grace require atonement? Yes and no.

As we have seen, the satisfaction of divine justice in the work of grace with respect to the reprobate requires the death of the reprobate himself. And atonement comes through the death of a divinely appointed substitute. Therefore, atonement is not required in the work of common grace with respect to the reprobate.

However, the satisfaction of divine justice in the work of grace with respect to the elect requires atonement. Common grace is an aspect of the work of grace with respect to the elect. Therefore, atonement is required in the work of common grace with respect to the elect.

FRIDAY EDWARDS QUOTE: Particular Redemption Proved by Divine Foreknowledge

From Jonathan Edwards's book Freedom of the Will:

Such a particularity and limitation of redemption will infallibly follow, from the doctrine of God's foreknowledge, as from the decree. For it is impossible, in the strictness of speech, that God should prosecute a design, or aim at a thing, which he at the same time most perfectly knows will not be accomplished, as that he should use endeavours for that which is beside his decree ([Morgan, PA: Soli Deo Gloria Publications, 1996 reprint], 329).

Basically Edwards is saying that just as it is impossible that God would do anything in the creation that does not work towards accomplishing his decree (since to suppose that is to suppose that there is something outside the decree, which is nonetheless related to it, which is nonsense), so it is also impossible that God could have aimed at the salvation of those whom he knew would not be saved.

GRACE AND ATONEMENT (pt. 1): Does redemptive grace require atonement?

[Also posted at CRM]

Reformed theologians understand that the atonement actually secured the redemption of God's elect. This is distinct from contemporary Eastern Orthodox, Roman Catholic, and Arminian theologies, each of which teaches that the atonement only secured the potential for redemption, a potential that is available to all who hear the gospel (for more on this distinction see here). One reformed confession of the efficacy of the atonement comes from the Westminster Confession of Faith chapter 8 "Of Christ the Mediator." This chapter concludes with section 8 which reads:

To all those for whom Christ has purchased redemption, He does certainly and effectually apply and communicate the same; making intercession for them, and revealing unto them, in and by the word, the mysteries of salvation effectually persuading them by His Spirit to believe and obey, and governing their hearts by His word and Spirit; overcoming all their enemies by His almighty power and wisdom, in such manner, and ways, as are most consonant to His wonderful and unsearchable dispensation.

Therefore redemption, which is given by God's grace (i.e. unmerited favor) alone, is dependent on the atonement of Jesus Christ. In other words, redemptive grace--the grace that unfailingly leads to redemption--is dependent on the atonement. Why? Because if God were to be gracious to us, redeeming us from sin, yet not require that the penalty for sin be paid, then he would be guilty of an injustice. If God is just, sin cannot go unpunished. This is why we read in Romans 3:23-26:

For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, whom God put forward as a propitiation by his blood, to be received by faith. This was to show God’s righteousness, because in his divine forbearance he had passed over former sins. It was to show his righteousness at the present time, so that he might be just and the justifier of the one who has faith in Jesus.

In other words, God put Christ forward as a propitiation by his blood (i.e. atonement) in order to demonstrate his own righteousness. Why? He had passed over the former sins of his people, not requiring that the penalty for those sins be paid prior to their forgiveness; therefore he had appeared to be unrighteous. That appearance of unrighteousness would have been validated as actual unrighteousness without the atonement in Christ's blood. Therefore, the substitutionary atonement of Jesus Christ is the way in which God is able to simultaneously execute the penalty sin deserves, while also forgiving the sins of his people. It is the only way he could be both just and justifier of those who believe in Jesus.

At this point you might ask, if grace is unmerited favor, and God is requiring a payment prior to doing the work of redemptive grace, in what sense is redemption a gracious work of God? I'm glad you asked! :-) This is a very important question.

One of the radical offshoots of the Protestant Reformation in Poland was led by Laelius Socinus (d. 1562) and his nephew Faustus Socinus (d. 1604). It came to be called Socinianism. Socinianism was a reversion back in the direction of an early church heresy called Arianism. Upon the death of Faustus, official Socinian dogma was set forth in the Racovian Catechism (1605). It is still followed by some Unitarian churches today. Socinus taught that the atonement could not be a penal substitution, because true forgiveness of sin cannot require a payment. When God forgives, he simply wills to forgive. According to Socinian teaching, to require a payment is to undermine the essence of forgiveness. It is to undermine the very essence of grace as unmerited favor.

How did Reformed theologians answer Socinus? They said that Socinus had misunderstood the doctrine of redemptive grace at a crucial point.

That God requires the payment of a penalty for the sin of those he forgives does not necessarily undermine his grace. Why? Because the penalty is not paid by the sinner himself but by a divinely appointed substitute. The grace of God in our redemption is fundamentally found in the person and work of Jesus Christ on our behalf. EVERYTHING hangs on that last prepositional phrase, "on our behalf." Substitution is itself the manifestation of redemptive grace, because no sinner could merit Christ's substitution. The substitution comes by God's unmerited favor.

So how should we answer our original question? Does redemptive grace require atonement?

As we have seen, according to Reformed theology, without the atonement redemption could not be accomplished, since it would impugn the righteousness of God. Therefore, redemptive grace does require the atonement offered in Christ's blood. However, this in no way diminishes the graciousness of the work of redemption, since Christ's substitution on behalf of his elect is totally unmerited by them.

PIPER ON HUMILITY

Today Pastor John Piper posted an excellent article entitled 6 Aspects of Humility. Here's one point that spoke to me about the delicate balance between a willingness to consider and learn from criticism while holding firm convictions and seeking to persuade others to accept them:

5. Humility knows it is fallible, and so considers criticism and learns from it; but also knows that God has made provision for human conviction and that he calls us to persuade others.

We see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face; now I know in part, but then I will know fully just as I also have been fully known. (1 Corinthians 13:12)

A wise man is he who listens to counsel. (Proverbs 12:15)

Therefore, knowing the fear of the Lord, we persuade men. (2 Corinthians 5:11)

BOOK REVIEW: The Wages of Spin (pt. 5)

Last time we began our review of Chapter 3 "Theology and the Church: Divorce or Remarriage?" We saw that Trueman begins by pointing to three fundamental issues which manifest a breach between theology and the church:

1. the perceived opposition of knowledge and experience
2. the differing presuppositions of church and academy as seen in the church's minimizing the importance of doctrine and the academy's minimizing the importance of experience
3. the divergent agendas of church and academy as seen in the church's attempt to simplify an increasingly complex world for the sake of staying on its perceived primary task of converting those outside the church and the academy's fragmentation (i.e. movement toward complexity, further specialization) under the exponentially increasing load of available information

We then looked at four theses offered to the academy in the interest of integration:

1. The academy must reform its vision of God.
2. The academy must acknowledge the authority of scripture.
3. The academy must acknowledge the effect of sin upon scholars.
4. The academy needs to return to traditional trajectories of theology.

This time we look at the first two of four theses Trueman offers the church toward the same end:

1. The Church must rethink her emphasis upon experience.

Here, Trueman explores the age-old problem of the relationship between the objective message of the gospel and the individual experience of redeeming grace. Evangelicalism is fundamentally committed to both doctrinal and experiential purity as ideals. True religion must include both elements. However, as Trueman points out:

The two things are formally separable and this, of course, means that the public distinctives of evangelicalism can be learned by those who lack the second, while the second can be claimed with no real grasp of the first. This has led, in some quarters, to a fear not simply that the truth might be preached through the mouths of those who are actually unbelievers but also that there can be a fundamental opposition between the two, the head and the heart, and that the latter, the heart, should therefore be given precedence.

This is the same issue Jonathan Edwards thought through in his great treatise The Religious Affections. Edwards comes to the conclusion that true religion must include both an objective knowledge (i.e. understanding) component and a subjective experience (i.e. affections) component. One may have right knowledge without right affections, but that is hypocrisy. One may have affections without right knowledge, but that is delusion. True religion requires both right knowledge and right affection. Nonetheless, there is a logical priority with respect to right knowledge. Right affection cannot exist apart from right knowledge.

Trueman points to the Donatist controversy as evidence of this line of thought. That controversy reinforced the fact that the gospel is a message independent of the messenger. It is objective fact. He writes:

To take any other position is surely disastrous, as none of us can know for certain what the state of anyone else's heart is; it is only because the gospel concerns the promise of God revealed in Christ that we can have confidence in the efficacy of the message preached. To put it more bluntly: it is better to have the gospel competently preached by one who proves to be an unrepentant adulterer than to have it preached incompetently by one who has been born again, precisely because it is the Word which is efficacious not the heart of the preacher.

Amen!

CAUTION: DIGRESSION AHEAD. This is one of the arguments (i.e. the objectivity of the gospel, the covenant) that compelled me to move from the Baptist tradition to the Presbyterian tradition. Knowing that the covenant sign (i.e. baptism) is only for covenant members, and as Baptists understand that only the regenerate are covenant members, then I could not in good conscience ever baptize anyone as a Baptist. Why? Because I could never know this side of glory if they were really covenant members. As a Presbyterian, I don't have that problem. Covenant membership is not based on the condition of a person's heart; it is based on the promise of God alone. END DIGRESSION.

Trueman concludes:

Much of the anti-intellectualism which pours from pulpits in churches, from Reformed to charismatic, is the result of precisely this confusion between gospel as message and the believer's response in experience--a confusion which has just enough appearance of truth to be superficially plausible while resting on a fundamentally skewed understanding of what the gospel actually is. Only when the church comes to acknowledge in both belief and practice that the gospel is a message, not a feeling or an experience, will such fuzzy thinking (and much else) finally be put to rest.

2. The Church needs to revise her worship practices in the light of the above.

Trueman is quick to remind us that he is not attacking the experiential element of the Christian religion per se. He is just arguing that experience must flow from the objective truth of the gospel, the promises of God. To reverse the order is disastrous.

Once the gospel starts being presented primarily as that which brings such-and-such benefits, be they freedom from alcohol abuse or just emotional highs every once in a while, the distinctive particularity of Christianity is lost.

This should lead to worship that is governed by the Word rather than human experience. The gospel message (i.e. content) should be central in worship. Style and experience should be in large part a matter of indifference.

This should also direct the church away from an obsession with revival and conversion as the main agenda behind our church services. Now, do not misunderstand me here. I am not saying that we do not want conversions; emphatically, we do. What I am saying, however, is that the Sunday service of the church is primarily for the equipping of the saints for the work of being a Christian Monday to Saturday. The church should be like a mother, nurturing us in our faith, giving us rest from the world and a tiny anticipation of what the fellowship in heaven will be like. . . . Of course, if an outsider attends our service, he should be made welcome, and should be able to understand what is going on and being said--one might add, he should be able to see an obvious connection between what is read, said, prayed, and sung; but accommodating him should not be the decisive priority in the service. In fact, coming into the presence of God's people worshipping a holy God should be an unsettling experience for the unbeliever.

THE DOCTRINE BY WHICH THE CHURCH STANDS OR FALLS?

[Also posted at CRM with discussion in the comments section]

Every time I go shopping with my wife, I take a book. Usually I will either stay in the car or find a comfy bench somewhere (preferably near a Starbucks barista). While she's spending money, I spend time--reading.

Tonight I trekked my way through a couple hundred years of doctrinal development in the late medieval Western Christian tradition courtesy of former Sterling Professor of History at Yale University Jaroslav Pelikan. His five volume work The Christian Tradition: A History of the Development of Doctrine is excellent. I highly recommend it.

I am currently reading volume four Reformation of Church and Dogma (1300-1700). In his discussion of the ecclesiological confusions of the late medieval period, which were brought to climax and further agitated in the Great Schism, he writes:

Once it had become part of the doctrinal discussion at the beginning of the fourteenth century, the church became, especially in the fifteenth century, a primary issue, or the primary issue, "the first and the most universal principal of doctrine and of science of faith," upon which all other doctrines depended. So it was at the Council of Basel "both the theologians of the council and the leaders of the Czechs found themselves compelled to discuss the concept of the church as the basis for all the items on the program" (p. 71).

Reading Pelikan's analysis tonight I was reminded of Martin Luther's famous assertion that justification by faith alone is the doctrine by which the church stands or falls. I have always thought of Luther's statement as well-intentioned hyperbole, meant to point out the vital importance of the doctrine of grace in salvation. I say hyperbole because, historically speaking, the doctrine of justification by faith alone, as Luther developed it, was not explicit Christian dogma until the confessions of the Protestant Reformation. No doubt, a compelling case can be made that it was understood implicitly prior to Luther. But is it proper that an assertion as grand as Luther's be based on implication? While I hold to sola fide firmly and dearly, I've always thought the assertion that justification by faith alone is THE fundamental doctrine of the Christian church was a bit of an overstatement. But after reading Pelikan, I think I may have misunderstood Luther.

It is common knowledge that Martin Luther was a brilliant and erudite theologian. He had a profound mastery of canon law and the development of the scholastic doctrinal traditions of the late medieval period. It is also common knowledge that he was driven by the ecclesiological and soteriological confusion of his own day. With regard to the question of assurance in salvation Rome had answered "Trust the church," by which was meant the papacy. Recognizing that Rome's answer was wrong, Luther answered "Trust Christ" (i.e. sola fide).

Given this historical context, maybe rather than reading Luther's assertion as a claim to the doctrinal priority of sola fide it would be better to see it as a clever response to Rome's claim to absolute ecclesiological priority. Rome's claim is encapsulated well in Pelikan's quote above.

Rome said: The doctrine of the church was "'the first and the most universal principal of doctrine and of science of faith,' upon which all other doctrines depended."

Luther responded: "Justification by faith alone is the doctrine by which the church stands or falls."

According to Rome, the doctrine of justification depends on the church's ruling. According to Luther, that is backwards thinking. The church itself depends on the doctrine of justification by faith alone in Christ alone. Why? Because assurance of salvation, rest for the soul, can be found in one place: the person and work of Jesus Christ. Christ is the only one in whom we must trust to have peace with God. Christ alone is our savior and mediator. Christ alone is the head of his church. Rather than claiming absolute doctrinal priority for sola fide, it appears that Luther was just asserting the priority of Christology over ecclesiology. Rome had betrayed that priority, a betrayal the papacy belied.