Chapter 24 of 27

The Dimensions of Certainty

The Dimensions of Certainty

historical grounds by an historical faith. But although it is also history, in that history it is more than a narrative, it is a word from God that comes to man calling him to faith and repentance. As such, it can be known through genuine faith. Whoever accepts its testimony confirms that God is truthful. Promise and faith are correlates; they address themselves to one another. The more the Christian develops, the more he roots himself in that Word, learning to know it better and to value it more. In the same act of faith he also embraces Christ, whose likeness comes to him unadulterated in the Scripture's witness of Him.

Therefore, faith is not the ground that carries the truth, nor is it the source from which knowledge flows to him, but it is the soul's organ; it recognizes the objective, self-subsistent truth. Faith is the pail with which the believer draws the water of life from the wellspring of God's Word. In all perception and thought, agreement between subject and object is required. It isn't enough for the sun to shine in the heavens. Man also needs eyes in order to see the sun by its own light. It isn't enough that the visible world is the embodiment of thought. Man also needs a mind to follow those thoughts and receive them into his consciousness. Similarly, the believer is nothing more than a normal human being whose eyes have been opened to the eternal and heavenly things, whose heart has again learned to understand the mysteries of the Kingdom of Heaven. The Christian does not construct his knowledge of the truth from faith, but through faith he penetrates ever deeper into the mysteries of salvation. The Word of God is always the solid ground on which he stands, the rock to which he clings, the starting point of his thought, the source of his knowledge, the rule of his life, the light on his path and the lamp for his feet.

The Dimensions of Certainty

But the certainty of truth is not enough for a Christian. He also needs the certainty of salvation. He will only be able to rest and glory in the freedom of the children of God when his faith is certain not only of the object on which he depends but also of himself. These two kinds of certainty, easily distinguished, cannot be separated. They are closely interrelated; the one does not exist without the other.

In this way faith is like knowledge. A characteristic of knowledge is certainty not only of its object but at the same time also of itself. If we really know something for certain, at the same time we spontaneously and immediately know that we know. Genuine, true knowledge excludes all doubt regarding itself. It reaches this certainty not by rational argument, and not by self-reflection or by logical inference; the light that knowledge sheds on the known object immediately reflects back on itself and expels all darkness. This is also true of faith. Faith that really deserves the name brings its own certainty.

Within faith we can again distinguish between what our fathers called the outgoing and the returning acts of faith, between the shelter-seeking and the assured trust of faith, between the being and the well-being of faith. But as fine as these distinctions may be, they must not be made into divisions. Faith is not an assemblage, which like a machine is put together from different parts and gradually molded into a unit. Nor is it a gift that is imposed from the top upon our own nature, always remaining inwardly alien to it. But it is a restoration of the right relationship between God and man, the return of the trust a normal child places in his father. In the state and attitude of the soul which the Holy Scriptures call faith, certainty is included by its very nature—certainty first of all regarding God's promises given us in the gospel, but also certainty that by grace we too share in these promises.

The latter form of certainty does not come to faith from the outside; it is not mechanically added on; it is not joined to it by a special revelation. This certainty is contained in faith from the outset and in

time organically issues from it. Faith is certainty and as such excludes all doubt. Whoever is stricken by guilt and crushed and honestly seeks refuge in Christ is already a believer. To the degree that he exercises a shelter-seeking trust he also possesses an assured trust. How else would a sinner convicted of his own guilt ever dare to approach God and evoke His grace unless in the depth of his heart, without being consciously aware of it himself, he shared in the certainty of faith and the hope that the Father of Jesus Christ is merciful and great in loving kindness?

Sometimes this is pictured as though the sinner, convinced like Esther of his sinfulness, turns to God with the words on his lips,

"And if I perish, I perish." The trust that flees to God for shelter is not an uncertain experiment nor a doubting calculation of chances; it means standing on the promises of God that He will not cast out anyone who cries to Him in Christ for grace and forgiveness. The assured trust is thereby included in this shelter-seeking trust. And both develop together. The stronger the shelter-seeking trust becomes, the stronger becomes the assured trust. And if the latter is small and weak, we may confidently conclude that the first too is needy and incomplete. Faith, therefore, does not attain certainty regarding itself through logical reasoning nor through constantly examining itself and reflecting on its own nature. Kant's Critique of Pure Reason hardly helps to establish our certainty. But certainty flows to us immediately and directly out of faith itself. Certainty is an essential characteristic of faith; it is inseparable from it and belongs to its nature.

Nevertheless, even in the most sanctified Christian, faith is often mixed with doubt; this doubt, however, does not originate in the new man but in the old. When, in the light of the Spirit, the object of faith places itself before the eye of the soul, that same light illuminates faith and raises it beyond all doubt. Just as the Israelites in the desert were healed not when they looked into themselves but when they looked up at the raised snake, so the believer becomes sure of his salvation when he expects it not from his faith but through faith from

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