Religious Affections and Evangelicalism

Helm describes Religious Affections as of central importance to evangelicalism:

[RA's] significance lies in its influence upon the evolving character of Protestant evangelicalism, as a phenomenon that identified itself (as David Bebbington has pointed out) partly by activism and conversionism: revivalism, massed choirs, large gatherings of people, the penitent bench, the centrality of the public testimony, and so on. Edwards’s Protestantism was of an older kind, but it nevertheless contained elements which, in other hands, contributed to developing the distinctive features of modern evangelicalism.

Is this fair? Can we draw a line from Edwards to Finney to Osteen?

I would argue not. First, Edwards believes that genuine affections are centered on the objective truths of Scripture. Affection for its own sake is of no value in Edwards' treatment. Affection that is accompanied by "God language", however effusive, is of no value to Edwards.

Further, Edwards distinguishes sharply between affection that is generated by the Spirit and affection that is generated by the methods of men. He is clearly aware of the dangers of "living on experiences."

Even when he seems to encourage affections, it is through the means of grace. That True Religion consists chiefly of holy affections appears from the nature and design of the ordinances and duties, which God hath appointed, as means and expressions of true religion. (RA, 242 I.2.9). Indeed, tellingly, he begins RA with Leviticus 9 and 10, the passage that forms the backbone for the regulative principle in worship.

We should not gloss over this point as simple old-fashionedness on Edwards' part. There is a huge fault line between Edwards and later revivalists. The "penitent bench" would not have been, for Edwards, a mere novelty or change in fashion. It would have been a man-made attempt to generate affections outside the God-appointed means of true religion.

Likewise, Edwards wrote "...it is no evidence that religious affections are of a spiritual and gracious nature, because they are great. It is very manifest by the Holy Scripture, our sure and infallible rule in things of this nature, that there are very high religious affections which are not spiritual and saving."

That is, he places no stock in the strength of affection; only in its movement of the will towards christian practice and the development of the character of Christ. It is hard to see how he can be held responsible for those who value "being on fire for the Lord"!

So evangelicals cannot really claim Edwards, unless they are willing to admit his criticisms at the same time.

And therein lies the value of Religious Affections. Even with its flaws, RA focuses the reader's attention on this question: Which evidences are legitimate tests of the work of God?

It cannot be but beneficial for a young Christian to discover that strong feelings, or spontaneous verses of Scripture, or much external zeal and piety, are no evidences of true religion; and that the fruit of Christian practice *is*. Even if we dispute Edwards' view of true religion (and we do!), and fault him for failing to consider faith and the Law in his account of affections -- still and all, he is much closer to genuine Reformed piety than he is to pietism or evangelicalism.

For this reason, I view Religious Affections as a flawed-but-helpful gateway out of excessive pietism and towards a spiritual life grounded in faith in the work of Christ for us. Edwards is not the answer; but he is on average a far better answer than one usually gets.

JRC Read more...

Religious Affections and the Law

One of the striking features of Religious Affections is that Edwards ties affections to law-keeping but fails to carry this thought to its conclusion.

In favor of his thesis that True Religion, in great part, consists in holy affections, he cites Deut 10.12, 6.4 - 5, and many other passages that show that it is our duty to have right affections towards God. In this way, Edwards is echoing Augustine, who taught that God's justification of us is accompanied by the implanting of divine love, charity, so that we desire to fulfill the Law. (cf. Against Two Letters of the Pelagians, 4). For both men, a true work of God will result in love.

So this raises an important question: Does Edwards cross the Law/Gospel line? Is he, in effect, telling his readers to become law-keepers in order to validate the genuineness of their faith?

No -- but he's not as clear as he might be.

Religious Affections is a polemical theological treatise. Much like Thoughts on the Revival (which contains many of the same arguments), Edwards' aims are (a) to defend the legitimacy of religious affections in principle, and (b) to criticize pernicious practices that have arisen when people have placed undue weight on affections.¹

In short, Edwards aims to be a friend to the good and a critic of the bad. His intended audience includes those who view outward expressions of affection of any sort to be works of Satan. Against them, Edwards emphasizes the necessity of the fruits of the Spirit (love, hope, patience) as a legitimate and necessary part of true religion.

But it would have been far clearer, I think, if Edwards had explored more thoroughly the connection between affections and Law. What happens if a Christian has but a meager love for God? What if his affections are weak? Does this mean he has sinned, perhaps having hardness of heart? Or does it mean that he needs to be strengthened in his faith? Would it not be fair to say that a meager love for God is failing to keep the Law to love God with heart, soul, mind, and strength?

And in that case, we have well-worn theology concerning Christians who fail to keep the Law (cf. WCoF 17, 18, 19).

Indeed, Edwards' failure to put things in terms of law-keeping meant that he had to roll his own objections to legalism. The Puritans struggled mightily with legalism in the form of demanding dramatic conversion experiences from each other (cf. Tennant's Dangers of an Unconverted Ministry). In Thoughts on the Revival, Edwards takes great pains to criticize those who condemn others as "unconverted" on the basis of their lack of outward affections. Based on these criticisms, I think we can clear Edwards of the charge of placing his readers under the law.

But, if he had more clearly thought about religious affections as a species of keeping the Law, this would have been unnecessary and even obvious.

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1. Helm views RA as a political treatise, aimed at defending the revivalists. It's an intriguing take, but the difficulty is that Edwards thinks of himself as laying down doctrine while defending the revivalists. And it's a strange "defense" that, like Thoughts on the Revival, sharply criticizes those whom he is defending. If Edwards is playing the politician, he is particularly inept at it. Perhaps it might be better to say that Edwards sees himself located on one side (the revivalists), but concerned to be both a friend to the good while opposing the bad. Read more...

Religious Affections and Faith

Edwards' Religious Affections consists of a preface and three main parts. The first is a defense of the thesis that True Religion, in great part, consists in holy affections. He then goes on to distinguish between those signs which do not provide evidence of true religion, and those that do.

What is an affection, anyway? Edwards thinks of affections as movements of the will. For Edwards, an affection properly considered is that which moves the will towards an action. Love, hope, zeal, fear of the Lord: these are all religious affections. They all contain an element of emotion in them, but the chief thing is not the strength of that emotion, but rather that the will is moved towards the certainty of divine things, the development of the character of Christ, and Christian practice. What makes an affection sufficiently affective is that it moves one above indifference and towards a definite action. Indeed, Edwards believes that there is scarcely a difference between an affection and an exercise of the will.

Whether this is a Lockean conception of the will is beyond this writer; but what is clear is that Edwards has a particular view of the psychology of man, and he incorporates this view into his doctrine of Religious Affections (cf. Edwards' Freedom of the Will). For Edwards, the affections are bound up in the will so that genuine affections lead ultimately to action; whereas inclinations that carry us but little beyond indifference are "weak, dull, and lifeless wishes."

At this point, one pauses to ask the question: Should we accept Edwards' particular theory of psychology as part of our doctrine of religious affections? Even granting Edwards' basic observation that Scripture enjoins love and hope and joy upon us, still and all, must we go further and accept that our affections are identical to exercises of the will?

I think not.

The glaring absence in Edwards' description of religious affections is the role of faith. Nowhere mentioned by name, faith is the anti-elephant in Edwards' room of affections. Is faith one of the religious affections? If not, then is it not an action of the will? Or is faith prior to all of these affections? Surely faith is a part of true religion?!

And this omission is notable because the Shorter Catechism speaks of the work of the Spirit in this way:

Q. 30. How doth the Spirit apply to us the redemption purchased by Christ?
A. The Spirit applieth to us the redemption purchased by Christ, by working faith in us, and thereby uniting us to Christ in our effectual calling.

Q. 31. What is effectual calling?
A. Effectual calling is the work of God's Spirit, whereby, convincing us of our sin and misery, enlightening our minds in the knowledge of Christ, and renewing our wills, he doth persuade and enable us to embrace Jesus Christ, freely offered to us in the gospel.

There it is: the work of the Spirit on our wills is to persuade us to embrace Christ; that is, to work faith in us. Faith would therefore seem to be, on Edwards' account, a motion of the will -- and yet it is absent.

So the question now is, why did Edwards omit faith? What does he mean by it?

Two points help us sort out the puzzle. First, the purpose of Religious Affections is to help the reader sort out evidences. Faith is ultimately invisible, and Edwards is clear that he is not providing us with a rule by which one may infallibly read the heart of another (RA 262-263, Section III preface). So part of our answer is that faith is simply not an outwardly expressible affection. It is outside the scope of Edwards' question. Though faith is an exercise of the will, it is not an affection in the sense in which he is speaking.

This is confirmed by a read through Edwards' Justification by Faith Alone. In this piece, it becomes obvious that Edwards does not see the affections as salvific, but as fruits of a salvation that is acquired by faith alone, apart from any virtue in us.

But why then does Edwards make holy affections the very definition of True Religion? Clearly he understands that faith is central to our justification? What is doing?

And here, we are stymied for a simple reason. Edwards assumes that his reader already has a clear idea of what "True Religion" is supposed to mean! As careful as he is to define "affections", he gives us no inkling as to what "true religion" means, other to say that it consists of holy affections.

Putting all this together charitably, it seems safe to say that "true religion" is supposed to be something like "the fruit of genuine faith."

But the omission of faith, not merely in justification but also in the ongoing Christian life, is a profound flaw in Edwards' account. It goes to the heart of the Halfway Covenant controversy and the perennial Puritan question of "Am I really, really, really, really, really really saved?" What does one do if one assesses oneself to believe the Gospel, but not be practicing true religion as expressed by "vigorous" (i.e., will-influencing) affections? Edwards gives no answer.

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Jonathan Edwards and Religious Affections

Paul Helm has recently written several articles on Edwards' A Treatise Concerning Religious Affections. His conclusion is that Edwards vastly oversimplifies true religion, offering a confused definition of both affections and religion. Helm views Edwards' confusion as significantly influential on subsequent evangelicalism, giving theological cover to conversionism. Sean Lucas has joined the fray, along with our Californian Pennsylvanian Delawarian Michiganian correspondent.

In the space below, I would like to offer two arguments in support of Helm's thesis and one against. In the end, Religious Affections is a confused document because it does not address the role of faith (!) in religion, and because it does not thoroughly address the connection between affections and the Law in the Christian life. The reader of Religious Affections walks away unsure of whether one is saved by having the right affections, or one is shown to be saved by having the right affections. Likewise, a reader who experiences little in the way of high emotions is unsure of whether this is a problem, and if so, what the solution might be.

But RA provides little cover for modern evangelicalism and emotionalism. Instead, it is a useful pivot point for those coming out of evangelicalism. For though Edwards affirms the role of affections in religion, in the end he directs the reader away from subjective assessments of affections, and towards affections grounded in the objective work of God, communicated by God-ordained means of grace.

The interested reader is encouraged at this point to leave this post and read Edwards:

A Treatise Concerning Religious Affections
Justification by Faith Alone

and then Helm:

Part I
Part II
Part III

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The Nature of Saving Faith

Can Faith Be Equated With Faithfulness?

"To believe is to obey." This was the thesis of Pastor Dave's sermon this Sunday. He and his wife had lunch with us afterwards, and it gave an opportunity for talking with him about this very point, which has in God's providence been one of my ruminations over the last couple of weeks.

Dave's sermon, incidentally, developed the point by examining why it is in Luke 9 that Jesus did not meet with Herod despite the fact that Herod seemed eager. Why not? Because disobedience -- cutting off the head of John the Baptist, say -- amounts to a denial of God's truth, amounts to unbelief. Clearly, Herod's eagerness to see Jesus was something other than faith.

Dave didn't mention 1 Cor 10 or Heb 10.26-39 in this context, but such were obviously in the background. To disobey is to deny; hence, to believe is to obey.

This was interesting for me because of recent conversations concerning the nature of saving faith (here , here, and here). Is it legitimate to speak of saving faith as "faithfulness"? Is it legitimate to require that saving faith include obedience as a part of its definition? Is it legitimate to require that saving faith be purely receptive of the grace of God? At the back of these questions are concerns on the one hand about legalism, and concerns on the other about antinomianism.

All of these questions are raised by a pair of recent books, the latest in the ongoing Protestant quest to nail down "saving faith" to the systematic subflooring with nary a bubble. These two are Covenant, Justification, and Pastoral Ministry and A Faith That Is Never Alone. The former is a product primarily of Westminster Seminary West and argues (I am told) for a hard separation between faith and obedience in a definitional sense. The latter is a product primarily of Norm Shepherd and those influenced by him, including many Federal Vision lights. It argues, apparently, that faith must include obedience by definition; that is, that faith is faithfulness.

Both are on my reading list, so the summaries above are second hand. Certainly, this post will not be an attempt to interact with either work!

Rather, I thought merely to blog some preliminary thoughts about faith viewed from two perspectives. From the "black-box", empirical perspective, faith looks like faithfulness. When we open up the box and peer inside, it turns out that faith proper is an instrument that receives God's grace, which leads necessarily to obedience. In other words, the inner workings of faith do not properly include obedience; and yet, living faith is always necessarily obedient.

Think about faith as it is presented in James. Not merely in chapter 2, but in the whole of the epistle, the burden of James is this: if your faith is genuine, then it will be seen in the works of your hands (Jas 1.26, 3.13, 4.4 but also 1.3-4, 1.5-8, passim). Or as I often say to my students, "You don't really know something until you know it in your hands." James says in effect, "You don't really believe something until you believe it with your hands."

The author to the Hebrews presents the contrapositive: that those who disobey are unbelievers. So for instance, he warns

So, as the Holy Spirit says:

"Today, if you hear his voice,
do not harden your hearts
as you did in the rebellion,
during the time of testing in the desert,
where your fathers tested and tried me
and for forty years saw what I did.
That is why I was angry with that generation,
and I said, 'Their hearts are always going astray,
and they have not known my ways.'
So I declared on oath in my anger,
'They shall never enter my rest.' "

See to it, brothers, that none of you has a sinful, unbelieving heart that turns away from the living God. But encourage one another daily, as long as it is called Today, so that none of you may be hardened by sin's deceitfulness. We have come to share in Christ if we hold firmly till the end the confidence we had at first. As has just been said:

"Today, if you hear his voice,
do not harden your hearts
as you did in the rebellion."

Who were they who heard and rebelled? Were they not all those Moses led out of Egypt? And with whom was he angry for forty years? Was it not with those who sinned, whose bodies fell in the desert? And to whom did God swear that they would never enter his rest if not to those who disobeyed? So we see that they were not able to enter, because of their unbelief. -- Heb. 3.7-19

Time does not permit examining Jesus' take on saving faith (think for example of the fruitful soil of Matt. 13 or the Rich Young Ruler of Luke 18), nor even Paul's confirmation that the disobedient are unbelievers (1 Cor 5.11-13, Eph. 5.6 || Col. 3.6, Tit. 1.16).

All of this is strong confirming evidence that to believe is to obey. We might call this the 'empirical perspective' on faith. From the outside without any access to the inner workings of faith, what does it look like to believe? It looks like obedience to God's commands. As a man thinks in his heart, so is he.

In many pastoral settings, this is exactly what is needed. Indeed, as I work with students in my Ethics class, we talk often about integrity as a person; that is, having actions that are consistent with our stated beliefs.

The 'empirical perspective', then, can include obedience within faith as a matter of operational definition. If we think of faith as a kind of black box whose inputs are the promises and commands of God and whose output is obedience, it makes sense to view 'faith' as faithfulness.

But it turns out that not all pastoral problems can be solved by this approach. Indeed, one of the problems that Paul frequently felt the need to counter in his ministry was the problem of legalism.

By "legalism", I don't mean what Wright is so anxious to clear the Pharisees of -- a kind of merit-gaining by means of racking up righteousness points. Nor do I mean the addition of human laws to God's law; nor strict scrupulousness in keeping God's law. All of these are, of course, kinds of legalism.

But the more general definition of "legalism" that fits best what Paul argued against is this: legalism is obedience to the Law in the power of the flesh.¹

It's immediately obvious that legalism in this sense can look exactly like our black-box definition of faith. Inputs: commands and promises of God. Outputs: obedience (at least by the metric of the legalistic community).

And yet, Christians all agree (following Paul) that legalism amounts to a different gospel -- unbelief! Or better, pseudo-belief.

How?

To get at this, we must follow Paul and open up the black box, examine what goes on inside the inner workings of faith.

And when we do, we find that the faith that saves is not actually itself obedience to the Law. Instead, for Paul as he addresses the Romans, Galatians, and Philippians, faith is an instrument that lays hold of the promises of God and receives as a result the work of God: justification, sanctification, adoption, the indwelling of the Spirit. Faith in this sense is separate from obedience to the Law.

We can see this most starkly in Luther's favorite epistle, Galatians. Crucial for Paul in his argument there is that we receive the Spirit by trusting in the promises of God over against obeying the Law (Gal. 3). He insists that we are justified by faith apart from performing works of the Law (Rom. 3, 4)².

This is mind-bending. Our black-box definition of faith was comfortable in including obedience as a part of its definition. Yet the inner workings of faith are set, apparently, apart from obedience. How?

The key (I think) is to view the black box as consisting of two components under the hood. Faith itself is that which lays hold of God's promises. As a result, God acts. He unites us to Himself, working in us through the power of the Spirit. As a result of that action, we are changed, both in initial salvation and also in its ongoing expression of sanctification. The result of that change is ... obedience.

Now, the relationship between our faith and God's work in us is inseparable from a causation perspective. Genuine, living faith will always result in God's work, resulting in obedience. Hence, the black-box perspective is operationally valid.

However, it is also incomplete. To those who labor under the illusion that their flesh-generated obedience is the same as the work of the Spirit, it must be told: faith is a receptive, not generative, instrument. 'Faithfulness' is not faith; it is the outcome of God's work in us that comes through faith.

Put another way, an emphasis on the work of the Holy Spirit is an irreducible part of teaching on faith and obedience. Without that teaching, legalists are led from bad to worse. With it, we can say to both antinomians and legalists: "The cure is to believe."

JRC

1. I am indebted to Jack Miller for this definition. It makes sense of Paul's frequent coupling of the flesh/Spirit dichotomy with his faith/works of the Law dichotomy. It also makes sense of the Pharisees' simultaneous reliance on the Law *and* antinomian tendencies -- both of which are sourced from the flesh nature.
2. Utterly unconvincing are solutions that try to make Paul's disparagement of fleshly obedience to the Law mean something limited: Jewish separatism from Gentiles, or adherence to OT ceremonial law. To argue thus makes light of Paul's robust view of the Law, which was in line with Jesus' (cf. Gal. 5.14). The "curse of the Law" was not visited on Jesus because Gentiles ate pork! Read more...

Faith fulfilled by works (Part III)

Previous parts: Part I Part II

Previously, we've seen that James unites faith and works by proving through four separate arguments that faith without works is useless, dead, and not salvific. He paints a picture of living faith as something that is fulfilled by works committed later. It is important now to consider what relationship James has to Paul. What additional perspective does Paul provide concerning faith and works that help avoid certain errors in thought (which, after all, is what the epistles are chiefly concerned with)?

Romans 4

James appears to be qualifying the doctrinal content of this chapter, though it is doubtful that it was available to James in written form when he wrote his epistle. Here, Paul presents a fairly complex picture of justification that cannot be fully explicated in this space. In summary, Paul teaches here that

• Justification entails both the forgiveness of sins (vv. 6-8) and being joined to the covenant with Abraham (vv. 12-16). These two are not separate benefits of justification, but viewed as a unity. This is seen in the free way in which Paul transitions back and forth between the two from 3.21-5.1.
  
• Justification occurred for Abraham at the moment of faith, prior to any works having been done (vv. 10-11).
  
• Justification is by faith and not by works (vv. 1-8) nor through the Law (vv. 13,16).
  

One very interesting feature in this passage is vv. 19-22:

He did not weaken in faith when he considered his own body, which was as good as dead (since he was about a hundred years old), or when he considered the barrenness of Sarah’s womb. No distrust made him waver concerning the promise of God, but he grew strong in his faith as he gave glory to God, fully convinced that God was able to do what he had promised. That is why his faith was "counted to him as righteousness." Rom. 4.19-22 ESV

Note here that Paul does much the same as James; he claims that Abraham's faith grew and was strengthened, resulting in his belief at age 100 in the promises of God, resulting in Isaac's conception (implied). And Paul attributes this faith, at age 100, as the reason that Abraham's faith was "counted as righteousness" at age 76. We have the same "pre-facto" attribution of later faithfulness to the initial faith that justified.

Paul is not being a wisdom writer here, but he is showing the same view of faith that James does: that living faith grows and matures over time, bearing fruit. James labels this fruit as "works"; Paul labels it as "being fully convinced" or more simply "faith" (as does the writer to the Hebrews in Heb. 11.11-12 and 17-19). Nevertheless, Paul (more explicitly than James) attributes the justification to the initial faith, prior to the maturity of the faith.

In short, for Paul, just as for James, a justifying faith is a living faith that matures over time.

Ephesians 2.8-10

Here, Paul is quite blunt about the mechanism of salvation. In context, he speaks of us as being under God's wrath and being dead in sin. But then, God raises us up:

For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast. For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them. -- Eph. 2.8-10 ESV

Once again, Paul presents a picture of "being saved" from God's wrath and from ourselves through faith, and he excludes any notion that our works contribute to our "being saved" (which indubitably includes our justification). And yet, our saving faith makes us God's handicraft, created for the purpose of works.

This is expressing the same notion as Romans 4 and James 2; that a living faith will mature into and be completed by good works.

What is the Mechanism?

If then we are to understand that living faith matures into works, but also that justification is on the basis of faith and not those works, then the next question is How? What distinguishes living faith from dead faith *at the moment of faith* so that justification does (or does not) take place? And, if the works are not credited as righteousness, then what role do they play?

Here, three passages are most relevant: Rom. 7-8, Gal. 5.16-26, and Eph. 4.17-24.

In each, Paul affirms that the source of our works is the Holy Spirit, given to all who belong to Christ (Rom. 8.9). The Spirit who dwells within then wars against the flesh (5.17) and ultimately produces fruit (through faith, not through human effort -- cf. Gal. 3.1-5). In Ephesians, the work of the indwelling Spirit is described as "the new self."

The mechanism can thus be expressed like this: At the moment of faith, we are justified. But more than that occurs; we are united with Christ (whether justification is a result of that union or a condition for it is immaterial here) and filled with His Spirit.

It is the work of the Spirit, then, that produces fruit in us. Without that fruit, we certainly do not have the Spirit -- which means that we do not have Christ.

This mechanism is consistent with the teachings of James and Paul (and of Jesus) concerning our faith and works.

The answer to the question is this: living faith results in reception of the Holy Spirit, who guarantees the works by producing them in us.

Practical Concerns

When I first read John MacArthur's "Lordship Salvation" in the summer of 1990, it made me angry. This was not because I disagreed with his conclusion, which agrees in concept with the position taken above. Rather, his way of framing faith and works seemed to bring in justification by works through the back door. This is the most pressing practical problem for understanding justification and works.

So many will seek to evaluate their works as a way of evaluating their faith; and if they deem themselves successful, they will mark themselves as "saved" and never consider the radical, impossible nature of God's commands (cf. Matt. 5, esp. v. 20; and Rom. 3.19-20). The result for these is a smug self-righteousness that rests in the flesh.

Others of a more sensitive nature evaluate their works and become worried that perhaps they fit into the category of those with dead faith. And they then feel the pressure to produce works. The result for these is a panicked self-doubt that continually self-examines without ever productively resting in Christ.

I was just beginning to emerge from that second category in 1990, and MacArthur's book angered me because I felt dragged by it back into a justification that is nominally by faith, but in reality is by works that are needed to prove my faith.

What was missing there was a description of mechanism: that both our faith and our works are a result of God's work in us. Also missing was a clear remedy: if my faith fails to produce works, the solution is NOT to produce works. The solution is to believe in the promises of God.

That is to say, real works can only be the result of faith. Or better: real works are the works that God does in me, and those are appropriated by faith.

For both of these groups, then, the answer is "Believe!" Believe in the promises of God (which might entail closer study of them...), and believe that He desires to fulfill them in you.

JRC
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Faith fulfilled by works (Part II)

Previous parts: Part I

The Larger Context

James is encouraging his readers to reconsider their lives and to adopt various types of good practices -- works -- as normative for themselves. In particular, he wants to communicate that what they "believe" must work its way into their fingers; else, their belief is worthless (1.22, 1.26, 3.13, 4.17). These practices include enduring testing and temptation (1.2-18), bridling the tongue (1.20; ch. 3), care for the poor (1.27-2.9), and walking away from worldly desires (4.1-6, 5.1-6).

In this context, the thesis of 2.14-26 is right at home: "faith, if it does not have works, is dead by itself." Apparently, a teaching had been circulating that faith alone is salvific, regardless of whether it is accompanied by works or not. This teaching appears to have been a distortion of the contents of Romans 4, although it is unlikely that James was reacting directly to that letter, which was published around 57-59. One indication that James is reacting to (a possibly garbled version of) Paul's teaching is his pointed repetition of the phrase "justified by works", a direct contrast to Paul's insistence that Abraham was not justified by works in Rom. 4.2.

Over against the teaching that "mere faith" is salvific, James raises the constantly repeated proposition that faith without works is unable to save because it is dead. This thesis is repeated in various ways in vv. 14, 17, 20, 24, and 26. These repetitions bracket four separate arguments.

First Argument

First, James makes an argument by analogy:

¹⁵ If a brother or a sister are naked and lacking in the daily necessities, ¹⁶ and one of you says to them, "Go in peace, be warm and satisfied", but does not give to them the necessities of the body, what's it worth? ¹⁷ Thus also faith, if it does not have works, is dead by itself.

James kills two birds with this argument, reminding his readers about their obligations to the poor while simultaneously pointing out the connection between words and actions. In this scenario, the right words are spoken, but the words themselves are left uncompleted by the actions. So the rhetorical question is raised: "What's it worth?" The force of the argument is that the action of neglect tells us what the words truly mean: nothing.

In like fashion, a lack of deeds tells us what the faith is really like: dead. And it is understood here in v. 17 that a dead faith cannot save.

Second Argument

Now, James turns to two possible objections. First up:

¹⁸ But if someone says, "You have faith, and I have works" – show me your faith without the works and by my works I will show you my faith.

The idea behind the objection is that faith and works are two different characteristics. Perhaps then they are independent of each other? Maybe some people have more faith, but other people have more works, and God accepts them all.

James responds with a dare: go ahead and show me your faith without works. Of course, it is impossible for the objector to comply, for the only demonstration of faith is ... works! Meanwhile, says James, I will show you that I have faith by demonstrating the fruit of faith. He shuts the door to the possibility of dividing faith from works as if they were independent qualities. Instead, what faith "looks like" is works. (This point will require further development when we consider the relationship of James to Pauline teaching in the next post.)

It would be a mistake here to imagine that James is equating all works with a demonstration of faith; certainly, false works are possible as Jesus often declared. The point here is simply that faith cannot be demonstrated except by its fruit.

But now, the objector takes refuge in orthodoxy:

¹⁹ "You believe that God is one." Nicely done. The demons also believe – and tremble.

Here, our objector appeals to Deut. 6.4: "Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God is one God." This statement was a Jewish shorthand for the statement, "I affirm the truth about God", which is then supposed by the objector to be a proof of faith.

James is rather caustic in response: "Good job." But the demons also believe that God is one, and their "faith" leads them to tremble at the certainty of their destruction. Unspoken by James but clearly implied is that the demon's belief is hardly a saving faith.

Thus, orthodoxy is no certain test of saving faith.

Third Argument

Now, James turns to the case of Abraham. This is a rich subject, because Abraham was declared righteous on the basis of his belief in Genesis 15. In fact, Abraham is precisely the example chosen by Paul in Romans 4 to demonstrate that we are justified by faith apart from works¹. This remarkable coincidence of topic and example serves as strong evidence that James was aware of some version of Paul's teaching and was anxious to qualify it.

²⁰ Do you want to know, O foolish man, that faith without works is worthless? ²¹ Abraham our father, was he not justified by works after he gave up Isaac his son upon the altar?

James begins by affirming something remarkable: that Abraham was justified "by works." Two puzzles immediately emerge. First, the affirmation of "justified by works" is very different from the thesis that James has been advancing so far, that a living, saving faith is accompanied by works. We might expect him to say that Abraham was justified "by faith that was accompanied by works", but it is a strange shift on his part to move from saving faith to justifying works. Second, James' statement at face value contradicts both the narrator of Genesis and also Paul's commentary on Abraham in Romans 4.

To see this clearly, we need to reconstruct the timeline of Abraham's introduction to the covenant. Because we don't have certain dates for his life, we will take year 0 to be his birth. Then, from Genesis 12.4, 16.3, 16.16, 17.1, 21.5 we can construct this sequence:

Year 75: Abraham leaves Haran
Year 76: Abraham receives the covenant promise
Year 86: Abraham sires Ishmael
Year 100: Abraham and Sarah have Isaac
Some time later: Abraham offers up Isaac.

We don't have a date for the last event, but Isaac seems old enough to know the pattern for sacrifice (22.7) but not old enough to resist Abraham or make a break for it (though perhaps he, also, trusted that he would be raised from the dead -- Heb. 11.17-19). For the sake of round numbers, we can put this event 30 years after the covenant promise (when Isaac is 6), understanding that this is only approximate. So, roughly, the events on Mount Moriah occur in Year 106.

Now here's the problem with James' statement, taken at face value: the narrator of Genesis stipulates that in 76, Abraham believed God and his belief was credited as righteousness. Paul affirms that Abraham was justified at that time (Rom 4.5,9,22-24). But James here states that Abraham was justified in 106, after (or "as a result of") his work of offering Isaac. It appears that there is a conflict between James and the others as to whether Abraham was justified in 76 or 106.

What are the possible solutions? The two most common are that either (a) James is talking about a second justification event, or (b) Paul and James are using the word "justify" in two different senses. These solutions are not incompatible, and some would combine them.

But now the puzzle gets even more curious:

²² You see, the faith worked together with his works, and the works completed the faith. ²³ And the Scripture was fulfilled, the one that said, "And Abraham believed God, and it was reckoned to him as righteousness", and he was called "God's friend." ²⁴ You see, by works a man is justified, and not solely by faith.

The faith that Abraham had in year 76 is said to work together with his work in 106! Somehow, the faith that caused Abraham to be declared righteous in 76 and to be called God's friend worked together with an event thirty years in the future.

Well ... how do we know that James is talking about the faith in year 76? Perhaps he meant Abraham's continuing faith, so that at the moment of near-sacrifice, his faith and actions were working together? That would certainly be a more reasonable statement of events: that the faith and the works both occurred in 106.

But three facts rule out this interpretation of James.

(1) James explicitly states that the faith that was completed is that mentioned in Genesis 15, year 76.

(2) The outcome of that faith, according to James, is that Abraham was called "God's friend." Yet, Abraham's covenantal relationship with God begins in year 76. It is certainly not the case that Abraham was something other than God's friend between 76-106! It is certainly not the case that Abraham changed or improved his status with God on Mount Moriah. In fact, Genesis 22.15-18 is a reaffirmation of the covenant promises made in Genesis 15; this is further evidence that Abraham's action in Genesis 22 completed the faith in Genesis 15. Here it is worth considering that God was "testing" Abraham (Gen. 22.1) on Mount Moriah. The outcome of that test was already known, but its function was to confirm the covenant relationship between Abraham and God. No additional justification is said to take place in Genesis 22; rather, Abraham's action fulfills his faith.

(3) James' overall thesis is that saving faith is a faith accompanied by works. The faith that saves Abraham begins in Genesis 15; yet the work cited by James occurs three decades later. It is unthinkable that Abraham's faith was "worthless" and non-salvific prior to year 106. It must instead be the case that the faith in 76 is salvific because it *is* accompanied by works; specifically, the work on Mount Moriah in 106.

What can we say then? James, in the mode of wisdom writers, is creating a paradox. Abraham's faith in 76 is working together with his actions in 106 to produce a living, salvific faith.

What is the point of the paradox, then? What wisdom are we to learn from it? How do we untangle the puzzle?

Several options need to be eliminated here. First, many Protestant commentators will assert that James is speaking of justification before men (by means of outward actions), whereas Paul is speaking of justification before God (by means of faith). While this approach is plausible if one emphasizes v. 18 in isolation, it is clear here that Abraham is not being justified before men. For one thing, the only "man" who knows of Abraham's deed is Isaac. Additionally, Genesis 22 explicitly notes that God is "testing" Abraham; this rules out some demonstration before men. And finally, James' overall point is clear: a faith without works is not a saving faith. James is talking about deliverance from God's wrath (v. 19), not vindication before men.

Second, Catholic commentators will cite this as an example of "initial justification" and "subsequent justification." In this view, God creates righteousness in us at initial justification, but that righteousness is tarnished by sin. As a result, subsequent receptions of righteousness (through the sacraments) are needed in order to be righteous.

The problem here is three-fold. (a) There is no indication in the texts of Genesis or James that his work of sacrificing Isaac restored some lost righteousness; nor was it a sacramental act. (b) There is also no indication that James views this as a subsequent justification. Rather, he declares the action as a completion of the faith, uniting both in a single act of justification. (c) Subsequent justification would be a significant tangent in an otherwise tight, disciplined argument. James' thesis, reaffirmed with regard to Abraham in v. 20, is that "faith without works is worthless", not that "works finish what faith started."

A more recent solution has come to my attention, that of Rich Lusk. According to Lusk², there are various justifying acts throughout the life of a believer. Citing Calvin at points, Lusk argues that we need continual forgiveness of our sins, and that the justification that James speaks of is a subsequent justification.

I would dispute that James means this, for the reasons given above. It seems clear to me that James is unifying the act with the faith; one completes the other. Rather than two acts of justification, there is only one.

It seems much better to read 21-23 thus: saving faith justifies. But saving faith itself will grow and will of necessity mature into the fruit of works. From this perspective, there is a unity between faith and works. We might pause to consider here the images that Jesus used to describe real, saving faith: trees that bear good fruit, wheat as opposed to tares, vines that bear fruit, plants in good soil that bear fruit. James learned this way of thinking from his brother!

And so he expresses the unity of faith and works in a rhetorical hyperbole: "the works do the justifying." And in his example, the works justify "pre-facto" -- Abraham is justified in year 76 by a work he did in year 106.

James' outrageous, mind-bending claim is the clue: James is being rhetorical. He doesn't literally mean that the works justify. He doesn't mean that Abraham was declared righteous once and then was made righteous in a different way thirty years later.

Instead, he wants his readers to be impressed with the indivisibility of faith and works. The works "justify" in the sense that without them, the faith does not justify.

Fourth Argument

Rahab (v 25) now serves as a test case for our reading. What does James say? That Rahab was "justified by works" when she received the spies and sent them off the other way. When we compare James now to Hebrews 11.31, we find that the same action is described as the "faith" of Rahab. It's not that she received two different types of justification here. Rather, she was justified by her faith that was completed by her works. Here again there is a unity of faith and action.

Conclusion

What can we say about James' message? James is trying to impress on his readers that faith cannot in any way be apart from works. To do so, he uses a variety of arguments, including a rhetorical re-analysis of Abraham that deliberately flouts the language of Paul and outrageously attributes Abraham's justification to a work committed thirty years in the future. All of this is an attempt to get at one truth: Just as the body without the spirit is dead, so also faith without works is dead.

The next post will examine the relationship of James to Romans 4, Ephesians 2, and various systematic concerns.

JRC

1Some would limit the works under discussion in Romans 4 to "works of the law" to make room for James at this point. Such a limitation is not warranted, since there was no Law at the time of Abraham and therefore Paul's discussion of circumcision would be nonsensical under such a limitation. But neither is the limitation necessary, as is shown above.

2 Lusk, The Tenses of Justification. Lusk has also graciously interacted with me on this point, with discussion found here.
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Faith fulfilled by works (Part I)

James 2.14-26 clearly teaches that a saving faith is a working faith. It has long been a passage of debate because it presents such an apparently different take from Paul on the role of works in justification. The next couple of posts will seek to explore this crucial passage, attempting a close reading to understand what James is saying and then connecting it to the Pauline doctrine of justification. This post presents background information, a translation of the passage, and analysis of its structure; the next provides exegesis; and the last compares James to Paul.

The author is "James, the servant of the Lord." Carson et. al. walk through possible Jameses and conclude that the best fit is James, the half-brother of Jesus on the grounds that the epistle shows linguistic similarities to James' speech in Acts 15 and that the other candidates are either too obscure or else died too early (CMM, An Introduction to the New Testament 410-413).

I agree, and would add this: The writer of this epistle could easily have spent significant time with Jesus. He seems to be familiar with Jesus' teachings in a way that does not simply parrot the gospels (4.11-12; 5.2,12), and he also shows similarities in his use of imagery and in his analysis to Jesus' teachings and interactions (compare for example Jas. 4.13-17 to Luke 12.15-21, or Jas. 4.4 to Matt. 6.24). I would estimate that James has more allusions per verse to Jesus' teachings than any other of the NT epistles.

The date is contested. Many would give it a date in the 40s; CMM takes this approach (414) on the supposition that James is reacting to a distorted form of Pauline teaching without having the benefit of having spoken to Paul directly. This is plausible, but so is the argument that James is writing at a time when there are Christians scattered far abroad, and when enough time has elapsed for Paul's teachings to become distorted. Such reasoning would place James in the late 50s, with a terminus ad quem in 62, when (as Josephus records), James was killed. I prefer the later date, but it makes little difference.

What seems beyond doubt is this: James 2.14-26, by its concern over "faith apart from works" and by its choice of Abraham as an example, seems familiar with a basic argument of Pauline theology. He is in some way countering teaching that was current within the churches, and this teaching bears the unmistakable echoes of Romans 4, though it was clearly a distortion of Paul's gospel. This point will be important for connecting the message of James together with the message of Paul.

The other crucial preliminary is that James is a New Testament example of wisdom literature. That is, James is written in the mode of Proverbs and Ecclesiastes, conveying truth by means of practical advice and certain unmistakable literary techniques.

James' advice echoes that of Proverbs. The topics of wisdom (1.5), the tongue (1.19-27; ch. 3), and wealth (2.1-9; 5.1-7) are prominent. Likewise, James makes use of the "wisdom" literary techniques: strong imagery (3.6-8 and 5.2, e.g.), paradox (1.2; 1.10-11; 2.13; 4.11), hyperbole (4.9), and riddle (2.10; 3.11-12) are all part of his method.

Of these, the riddle is most important for our passage. In Proverbs, truth is often expressed in terms of a riddle; wisdom comes from figuring out the meaning of the riddle (e.g., Prov. 14.4). As we shall see, James 2.14-26 contains a riddle that must be puzzled out.

The text itself is found here:

James 2.14-26 in Greek, NASB, and ESV

My own translation, which attempts to capture some of the word play involved:

¹⁴ What's it worth, my brothers, if someone claims to have faith, but has no works? Such faith is not able to save, is it? ¹⁵ If a brother or a sister are naked and lacking in the daily necessities, ¹⁶ and one of you says to them, "Go in peace, be warm and satisfied", but does not give to them the necessities of the body, what's it worth? ¹⁷ Thus also faith, if it does not have works, is dead by itself. ¹⁸ But if someone says, "You have faith, and I have works" – show me your faith without the works and by my works I will show you my faith. ¹⁹ "You believe that God is one." Nicely done. The demons also believe – and tremble. ²⁰ Do you want to know, O foolish man, that faith without works is worthless? ²¹ Abraham our father, was he not justified by works after he gave up Isaac his son upon the altar? ²² You see, the faith worked together with his works, and the works completed the faith. ²³ And the Scripture was fulfilled, the one that said, "And Abraham believed God, and it was reckoned to him as righteousness", and he was called "God's friend." ²⁴ You see, by works a man is justified, and not solely by faith. ²⁵ Likewise also, Rahab the prostitute, was she not justified by works after receiving the messengers and sending them off in a different direction? ²⁶ Just as the body without the spirit is dead, so also faith without works is dead.

Here, I've made some translation decisions that need justifying.

In v. 18, I take James to be quoting a possible objection, and then responding to it. Hence, the quoted objection should end at 18a, with James' response in 18b.

In v. 19, the second half appears to be a sarcastic response to the first; I take it to be parallel in structure to v. 18.

Verse 24 the major Protestant translations translate as "You see that a man is justified by works and not by faith alone", which is a faithful literal translation. It suffers from the disadvantage of leaving the door open to the reading "By works, you see that a man is justified...", which some commentators have taken. As shall be argued later, this is not a possible reading. Most telling at the translation level is that v. 22 and v. 24 have the same sentence structure, and in v 22, the οτι clearly extends to the end of the sentence. Hence, I've tried to render the two verses in parallel ways.

Also, the verbs βλεπεις (22) and ορατε (24) are not perfectly parallel, and they are technically in the indicative mood (the first for certain; the second by extension). Nevertheless, the sense in English is the language of proof: "You see that..." (drawing on the question in v 20). Hence, I've rendered them both in a colloquial "You see, ...", which lingers somewhere between the indicative and imperative.

Finally, the structure of this passage is fairly clear:

thesis: faith without works cannot save (14)
     argument by analogy (15-16)
 restatement of thesis (17)
     objections answered (18-19)
 restatement of thesis (20)
     example of Abraham (21-23)
 restatement of thesis (24)
     example of Rahab (25)
 summary restatement of thesis (26)

The thesis, "faith without works cannot save", is restated in various ways as a kind of chorus. It develops throughout this section into "faith without works is dead", a strong expression of the fact that a worksless faith is not a saving faith.

JRC
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