Introduction
Of Faith With an Explanation of the Apostles' Creed by John Calvin Translated by Sophie Mauroux
Introduction From the foregoing chapter, the Lord's expectations enshrined in His law are now clear. Should the minutest aspect escape our grasp, He unveils His anger and the dread verdict of eternal demise.
Additionally, we have unveiled that adhering to the law, beyond humans' grasp, presents an insurmountable challenge.
Consequently, a glimpse inward reveals a bleak panorama, bereft of hope, and an ominous portent of death's clutches, a poignant exile from the divine embrace. Subsequently, we've ascertained that a singular path emerges to evade this abyss—an avenue paved by divine mercy, yet contingent on firm faith embraced with unwavering hope.
Amidst this exploration, the nature of requisite faith beckons explanation—the faith serving as the vessel through which God's chosen heirs step into the heavenly kingdom. The prevalent misconception ensnaring many, where 'faith' merely signifies the
acquiescence to gospel narratives, demands rectification. The roots of this misapprehension intertwine with the sophists and Sorbonnists who, through murky definitions, attenuate the potency of faith. Perniciously, they weave a tapestry of "formed" and "unformed" faith, conferring the appellation 'faith' to a vacuous opinion, devoid of divine reverence and piety.
Scripture unequivocally repudiates this notion. While I refrain from a direct assault on their definitions, I wish to elucidate faith's essence as illuminated by the divine discourse. Such illumination underscores their empty prattle.
This distinction is naught but hollow verbiage. While pedagogically useful in discerning the knowledge of God possessed by the ungodly, the sole faith acknowledged is the singular faith echoed by St. Paul, cherished by God's progeny.
In our quest for a profound understanding of faith, it becomes evident that not every word of God securely anchors the human heart in faith. Hence, we must endeavor to uncover the focal point of faith within God's word. While God's voice pronounced, "You shall die" to Adam [Genesis 2:17], and announced, "Your brother's blood cries out to me from the ground" to Cain [Genesis 4:10], these declarations, rather than fortifying faith, prove liable to erode it. We concede that faith indeed obliges us to embrace God's truth whenever He speaks, irrespective of His message or manner. However, our current exploration revolves around identifying the bedrock within God's word upon which faith can stand and rest. Should our conscience perceive solely disdain and retribution, terror inevitably takes hold.
Consequently, if dread of God consumes the conscience, how can it not flee? Faith, conversely, should draw us toward God, not propel us away from Him. It's evident that our current definition is incomplete, for it's insufficient to merely comprehend God's every volition as
faith. Consider the possibility of substituting "benevolence" or "mercy" for "will"; this might offer a closer alignment with the essence of faith. Our inclination to seek God grows once we grasp that our well-being rests in Him. This revelation is encapsulated in His assurance of caring for our salvation. Thus, the bedrock of faith is founded on the promise of His grace—a testimony that He is our
Father, favoring us, and upon which the human heart can confidently repose.
Furthermore, the significance of apprehending God's benevolence is realized when faith prompts us to find solace within that benevolence. To achieve this, knowledge tinged with doubt must be cast aside, for true faith flourishes in unwavering conviction, untroubled by vacillation. Human understanding, shrouded in darkness, remains incapable of fully comprehending God's will. The heart, accustomed to wavering doubt, craves confirmation to rest in faith's persuasion. Hence, both human understanding and the heart necessitate external illumination and affirmation for God's word to resonate fully within us. Now, a comprehensive definition of faith emerges—firm and unwavering knowledge of God's benevolent will toward us. This knowledge, grounded in the promise freely bestowed through Jesus Christ, is unveiled to our intellect and imprinted upon our hearts by the Holy Spirit.
With meticulous scrutiny, let's dissect each word. Upon this thorough examination, I'm confident that any lingering difficulties shall dissolve. When faith is characterized as the "knowledge of God's will," we are not referring to sensory comprehension. Faith transcends human senses, demanding the spirit to ascend beyond itself for its acquisition. Even after this ascent, faith does not achieve a comprehensive grasp. Instead, it thrives in unwavering conviction, comprehending more through the certainty of persuasion than it
could via human understanding. St. Paul's words resound with wisdom: he urges us to comprehend the boundless dimensions of Christ's love, surpassing earthly comprehension (Ephesians 3:18–
19). This elucidates that faith's grasp of an infinite God is accompanied by infinite certainty, surpassing mere understanding.
Correspondingly, St. John labels faith as knowledge, affirming believers' unassailable awareness of their status as God's offspring (1
John 3:1). Thus, while certainty prevails, faith is nurtured through unwavering assurance rather than empirical human proofs.
St. Paul further accentuates this disparity. He underscores our earthly pilgrimage, distinct from God, as we navigate guided by faith rather than sight (2 Corinthians 5:7). This underscores that faith thrives amidst realms invisible to the naked eye, beyond our visual perception.
Hence, faith's essence resides not merely in comprehension but more significantly in unwavering certainty.
Let us emphasize that this knowledge is not just firm, but "certain and unwavering," underscoring its unshakeable nature. Faith shuns the realm of doubtful and fleeting opinions, seeking instead a resolute and steadfast assurance akin to the confidence we hold in well-tested and understood matters. Some individuals perceive God's mercy with limited consolation, plagued by doubt whether it extends to them. This skepticism constrains their view of God's abundant mercy, causing anxious distress. They acknowledge God's vast mercy showered upon many, yet falter to believe it embraces them or that they can reach it. With this midway perspective, inner peace and confidence elude them, overshadowed by doubt and apprehension.
On the contrary, scriptural faith intertwines assurance and confidence, igniting trust in God's goodness. The Apostle draws courage from faith, invoking boldness through confidence, affirming that "through Christ and our faith in him we can now come fearlessly
into God's presence" (Ephesians 3:12). Such is the alignment between faith and confidence that the term "faith" often echoes
"confidence."
At the heart of faith resides a pivotal truth: the promises of mercy God extends are not merely external verities, but they are to be internalized within our hearts, becoming personal realities. This intimate embrace leads to the confidence that Paul elsewhere terms
"peace" (Romans 5:1), possibly an offshoot of confidence. This peace is a haven, comforting and joyous, granting respite to the conscience amidst God's impending judgment. Without this peace, the conscience writhes in turmoil, seeking temporary escape by veering towards forgetfulness. Yet this fleeting respite is short-lived, as God's judgment resurfaces in memory.
In summation, authentic faith is characterized by the unwavering conviction that God, a benevolent Father, bears a goodwill toward us.
This faith propels us to anticipate all blessings from His abundant kindness. Anchored upon God's promises of goodwill, unwavering expectation of salvation takes root (Romans 8:38–39). The Apostle emphasizes this by stating, "if we continue to the end, confident of hope" (Hebrews 3:6). In this declaration, he affirms that genuine hope in God empowers one to boldly proclaim heirship to the heavenly realm. This fact remains unaltered: those of true faith, fortified by the assurance of salvation, fearlessly defy the devil and death, as elucidated in the Apostle's conclusion to the Romans. "I am convinced," he declares, "that nothing can ever separate us from God's love" (Romans 8:38–39). Consequently, he asserts that the eyes of our understanding aren't truly enlightened unless we fixate upon the hope of the eternal inheritance to which we are called
(Ephesians 1:18). This theme resonates consistently: the true depth
of God's benevolence surfaces when accompanied by unwavering assurance.
A potential objection arises: "Yet the faithful often experience quite the opposite, battling not just the usual doubts, but facing extreme fright due to vehement temptations." This discrepancy appears at odds with the faith's unwavering certainty discussed earlier. To preserve the integrity of the preceding discourse, let's unravel this quandary. When we speak of faith's certainty and assurance, it isn't a certainty untouched by doubt or a security devoid of worry. Instead, we acknowledge that the faithful wage a continuous struggle against their own doubts. Their conscience is far from a tranquil sanctuary undisturbed by tempests. However, amid these conflicts, they never relinquish the resolute confidence they initially embraced in God's mercy. To fathom this better, we must revisit the dichotomy between Spirit and flesh. This separation endows the faithful with a dynamic struggle: they find themselves simultaneously uplifted by the knowledge of God's goodness and downtrodden by the weight of their own imperfections. This dichotomy plays out within their hearts—the joy of God's promise coexisting with the bitterness of human frailty; the peace of the gospel contrasted with the trembling sight of sin; the embrace of life intertwined with the fear of death.
This tumult arises due to the inherent imperfection of faith, as earthly existence never fully realizes the ideal state where absolute confidence eradicates all doubt. Consequently, this ongoing battle emerges as the flesh, tainted with doubt, contends with and seeks to undermine the firm foundation of faith.
In response, someone might inquire: "If doubt intertwines with certainty within the faithful heart, are we not led back to the assertion that faith is neither certain nor clear, but rather mired in obscurity and confusion?" To this, I answer resolutely: No. While
diverse reflections may tug us in different directions, the presence of doubt does not equate to a severance from faith. Being subject to bouts of disbelief doesn't plunge us into the abyss of unbelief.
Undermined by uncertainty doesn't imply stumbling into a pit of despair. The culmination of this spiritual warfare consistently demonstrates faith's triumphant conquest over the adversities that seem to threaten its very existence. In essence, the slightest trace of faith sparks a journey where God's kindness and favor become evident. While this perception may be distant, it's an indubitable sight, dispelling any deception. As we progress, growing in wisdom, we draw closer to God's countenance, gaining a surer view. This advancing proximity deepens our intimacy with this knowledge. As the illumination of God's knowledge dawns, ignorance's shroud gradually dissipates. Yet, ignorance doesn't hinder our grasp of God's will, nor does obscured perception dilute our understanding. This marks the core and foundation of faith.
It resembles a scenario where someone confined in a sunless prison glimpses the sun's radiance through a narrow window, casting an oblique and partial illumination. Although the view is not unhindered and unobstructed, even such limited brightness suffices to guide and serve. Similarly, while we dwell within the confines of our earthly vessel, ensnared in shadowy obscurities, the tiniest flicker of God's light unveiling His mercy offers ample illumination for firm conviction. The Apostle, too, addresses these aspects, unveiling divine wisdom's limited portion granted to us in this temporal existence. Yet, in another instance, he emphasizes the resolute assurance intrinsic to even the smallest droplet of faith. He attests that through the gospel, we behold God's glory unmasked, undergoing a transformation into His image (2 Corinthians 3:18).
Amid such obscurity, uncertainties, and ignorance, myriad misgivings and apprehensions may arise—especially considering our proclivity for disbelief. Additionally, various temptations exert their influence, launching sporadic assaults. Chiefly, the conscience grapples with the weight of sin, alternating between self-reproach and silent lamentation, occasionally convulsing with inner torment.
Hence, whether adversity seems to signal God's displeasure or the conscience finds reasons for self-critique, these instances become ammunition for doubt to wage war against faith. The adversary's intent: to paint God as an opponent, fueling fear rather than hope, and inciting a perception of God as a mortal adversary.
In this battle, faith arms itself with the shield of God's Word. When assailed by the notion that God stands as an antagonist due to affliction, faith counteracts with the defense that even in suffering,
God's mercy prevails, inflicting love rather than wrath. Confronted by the reflection of God as a just judge punishing transgressions, faith raises the shield of mercy, ready to pardon upon a sinner's return. Thus, the faithful soul, though tormented, eventually surmounts these trials. Its confidence in God's mercy remains unyielding and steadfast, metamorphosing doubts into an even greater assurance of this trust. Saints throughout history reflect this phenomenon. Even when confronted by God's chastisement, their laments are directed toward Him. When it appears they may not be heard, they still cry out. After all, why lament to One from whom they expect no succor? How could they implore if they didn't anticipate aid? This exemplifies how disciples, rebuked by Jesus for their wavering faith, still beseeched His assistance (Matthew 8:25–
26). We reiterate the earlier assertion: faith's root never fully withers from the faithful heart. Despite potential erosion, its luminance endures, always kindling a spark. Job encapsulates this when he vows to trust God, even if He takes his life (Job 13:15). Therefore, the
saints are never on firmer grounds for despair than when they sense God's hand poised to confound them, based on their current perception.
There exists a distinct type of fear and trembling that not only upholds the certainty of faith but also reinforces it. This occurs when the faithful perceive the divine punishments meted out to the wicked as instructive lessons. These serve to deter them from provoking
God's wrath through similar transgressions, thus fostering vigilant avoidance of evil. Furthermore, they recognize their own frailty and learn to rely utterly on God, realizing that without Him, they're more fragile and transient than a mere gust of wind. The Apostle, after recounting God's punitive actions against the Israelites, invokes a sense of trepidation among the Corinthians, urging them to steer clear of repeating the same errors (1 Corinthians 10:6ff). This isn't intended to erode their confidence but rather awaken them from complacency, which tends to smother faith rather than bolster it.
Similarly, he draws wisdom from the Jews' downfall to admonish the steadfast, guiding them to guard against stumbling (Romans 11:17ff).
This isn't meant to sow doubt in their resolution, but rather to shatter arrogance and misguided self-reliance, preventing us— gentiles—from disparaging the Jews, whose place we've inherited.
Moreover, when he advises us to work out our salvation with fear and trembling (Philippians 2:12), he isn't demanding uncertainty but instead encourages us to root ourselves in the power of our Lord while maintaining profound humility.
Indeed, nothing solidifies our faith in God's certainty and confidence as profoundly as acknowledging our own deficiencies and recognizing the extent of our wretchedness. This recognition doesn't breed despair but instead underscores our need for God. In this vein, let's reflect on the words of the prophet: "But I, through the
abundance of your steadfast love, will enter your house. I will bow down toward your holy temple in the fear of you" (Psalm 5:7). Here, the psalmist aptly intertwines the unwavering trust stemming from God's mercy with a sense of holy reverence and trembling before His majesty. (Through the radiance of His majesty, we discern our own defilement.) Similarly, Solomon's wisdom resounds: "Blessed is the one who fears the LORD always, but whoever hardens his heart will fall into calamity" (Proverbs 28:14). This fear begets heightened caution and wisdom, rather than despair. It's a fear that, in moments of self-doubt, seeks solace in God; when disheartened, it finds restoration in Him; when lacking confidence, it finds rest in the hope we have in Him. Thus, the faithful can experience fear and trembling while simultaneously embracing profound consolation. They ponder their insignificance on one hand and God's unchanging truth on the other.
Scripture attributes the fear of God to the faithful consistently. This fear is sometimes called the starting point of wisdom (Proverbs 1:7;
9:10; Psalm 111:10), and at other times, wisdom itself (Proverbs 15:33; 29:15). It's a singular fear, arising from two distinct sentiments. God demands both the reverence due a Father and the respect owed a Master. Consequently, those who genuinely wish to honor God endeavor to approach Him as dutiful children and willing servants. The obedience rendered to Him as Father, He designates as "honor"; the service offered as Master, He names "fear." "A son honors his father, and a servant his master. If then I am a father, where is my honor? And if I am a master, where is my fear?" He admonishes (Malachi 1:6). While He distinguishes these aspects, He initially groups them under the umbrella of "honor." Thus, the fear of God for us encompasses both reverence and fear—a blend of both.
It's unsurprising that the same heart experiences both these sentiments. Certainly, considering the kind of Father God is to us
yields a compelling incentive to avoid offending Him, surpassing even the fear of death, let alone the threat of hell. Conversely, given our fleshly inclination toward wrongdoing, we must remind ourselves that the Lord abhors all transgression. Those who disregard this truth invoke His wrath and must not evade His just retribution.
When St. John asserts, "There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear" (1 John 4:18), he doesn't contradict the above. He speaks of the trembling associated with unbelief, distinct from the fear of the faithful. The ungodly don't fear God because they're concerned about displeasing Him; rather, they dread His ability to punish and shudder at the mere mention of His wrath. Their fear is compounded by its immediacy; they anticipate its impending descent to crush them. In contrast, as previously stated, the faithful's primary apprehension is offending God, not punishment. They're not paralyzed by fear as if hell were imminent; rather, they exercise caution to avert peril. The Apostle addresses the faithful, urging them not to be deceived, as God's wrath befalls rebellious children
(Ephesians 5:6). He's not prophesying the onset of God's wrath but warning them that such retribution awaits the wicked due to their sins. This admonition ensures that the faithful don't emulate the wicked and thus meet a similar fate.
Another pivotal aspect under the purview of "God's benevolence" is the attainment of salvation and eternal life. When God's favor rests upon us, we lack nothing to affirm our assurance of salvation. It suffices that God's countenance shines upon us, as the prophet proclaims, "Let your face shine, that we may be saved" (Psalm 80:3).
In this vein, the summary of our salvation encapsulates this reality:
"For he himself is our peace, who has made us both one and has broken down in his flesh the dividing wall of hostility" (Ephesians
2:14). This underscores that once reconciled with God, the threats looming over us cease to jeopardize our well-being. Thus, faith encompasses not only the promises for the present and future but also unwavering assurance of all the blessings the gospel heralds.
Yet, faith doesn't assure us of long years, grand accolades, or abundant wealth in this temporal existence, for these are not the divine guarantees. Instead, it rests content in the knowledge that, even amidst life's myriad challenges, God will never forsake us. The bedrock of faith is rooted in the anticipation of the life to come—this is where God's word leaves no room for uncertainty. Regardless of the hardships and distress that might befall those embraced by the Lord's love, His benevolence remains the source of their profound happiness. Hence, when encapsulating blessedness, we evoke God's grace, the font from which all blessings flow. This theme resonates throughout scripture, which frequently underscores God's love/charity when referencing eternal salvation or any form of goodness. David aptly attests that when the faithful bask in God's goodness, it eclipses all desires and surpasses any life's sweetness
(Psalm 63:3).
The bedrock of faith is firmly anchored in "the gracious promise," as faith finds its secure footing on this very promise. Although faith acknowledges God's truthfulness across all spheres—be it commandments, promises, or warnings—it truly commences with the promise, gravitating toward it and making it the focus. Faith derives its sustenance from the promise of mercy, which is inherently gratuitous. Conditional promises, on the other hand, hinge on our works and are devoid of life unless we find it within ourselves. To ensure unwavering and steadfast faith, we must rely upon a promise of salvation—one that the Lord offers freely out of compassion, considering our wretchedness above our merit.
For this reason, the Apostle attributes this role primarily to the gospel, which he aptly dubs "the word of faith" (Romans 10:8). This distinction isn't extended to the commandments or promises of the law, as only this divine proclamation, a testament of God's kindness, can bolster faith. This Gospel is the ministry of reconciliation that God employs to draw humanity back to Himself (2 Corinthians 5:18).
Thus, it stands as the most compelling testimony of God's benevolence and serves as a prerequisite for faith. Consequently, when affirming that faith must rest upon free promises, we don't disregard the faithful's acceptance and reverence for God's entire
Word. Instead, we highlight the promise of mercy as faith's true objective. While the faithful certainly acknowledge God as a Judge and Punisher of transgressions, their focus remains on His mercy—
His kindness, compassion, patience, goodness, generosity, and love, extended to all His creation (Psalm 86:5, 15; 103:8; 145:8–9).
Furthermore, our emphasis on encompassing all promises in Christ isn't arbitrary, as the Apostle encapsulates the entire Gospel in the knowledge of Christ (Romans 1:17). In another instance, he affirms that all of God's promises find their affirmation and fulfillment in Christ (2 Corinthians 1:20), ratifying them. This is easily understood: when God promises goodness, He simultaneously bears witness to His benevolence, rendering every promise a testament to His love.
This doesn't conflict with the fact that the wicked may benefit from God's hand while simultaneously incurring His stern judgment.
Their lack of recognition or reflection upon the origin of their blessings prevents them from truly understanding God's goodness.
In contrast, the faithful, when turning away from promises directed toward them, ultimately store up harsher punishment for themselves.
Although it is through our acceptance of promises that their efficacy becomes evident, their veracity and essence remain undiminished, impervious to our unbelief or ingratitude. Consequently, when the Lord extends His promises, inviting us not only to partake in the fruits of His goodness but also to ponder and honor them, His affection for us is unveiled. We must, therefore, reiterate this truth: every promise is a testament to God's love toward us. It's beyond doubt that God's love is encapsulated in Christ alone, for He is the cherished Son upon whom the Father's affection rests (Matthew
17:5). Thus, this love must reach us through Him. Therefore, the Apostle rightly dubs Christ as "our peace" (Ephesians 2:14) and portrays Him as the conduit that bridges the Father's will to us
(Romans 8:3). Hence, whenever a promise is extended, we must perceive it in the light of Christ; Paul's assertion that all God's promises are ratified and realized in Christ is not an erroneous statement.
This straightforward declaration within God's word should suffice to instill faith in us, were it not for our spiritual blindness and obstinacy. Our human spirit, inclined toward vanity, can scarcely grasp the profundity of God's truth. It remains befuddled, unable to fathom His divine radiance. Thus, the bare word alone offers little benefit without the Holy Spirit's enlightenment—a poignant reminder that faith transcends human comprehension.
Simultaneously, merely illuminating the understanding with God's Spirit falls short unless the heart, too, is fortified by His power. It's a great folly, propagated by certain theologians, to reduce faith to a mere agreement with God's word, one limited to understanding and devoid of heart's confidence and assurance. Faith is indeed a unique gift bestowed by God in two aspects: firstly, through the illumination of human understanding to comprehend God's truth, and secondly, by fortifying the heart in that truth. The assertion that no one can
believe in Christ except through divine bestowal is perceived as odd by the world. This occurs partly because the profound nature of heavenly wisdom is underestimated, coupled with a disregard for human ignorance and fragility when grappling with God's mysteries.
It is also due to the oversight of the central role of heart's steadfastness within faith.
Nonetheless, this error can be surmounted. Just as Paul stipulates that a person's spirit is necessary to testify to their own will, the same principle applies to us understanding God's will (1 Corinthians 2:11). Moreover, when God's truth remains questionable even in matters directly perceived by the senses, how can it be unwavering and indubitable when the Lord pledges unseen and incomprehensible things?
In this arena, human wisdom proves inadequate and blinds us. The first stride towards reaping benefits in the Lord's school is renouncing this human wisdom. It acts as a veil that obstructs our grasp of God's mysteries, which only become accessible to the humble (Matthew 11:25; Luke 10:21). Flesh and blood are incapable of revealing them; the natural person is inept at grasping spiritual matters (Matthew 16:17). Conversely, God's instruction appears absurd to them, as it can only be comprehended spiritually (1
Corinthians 2:10ff). Thus, the Holy Spirit's guidance is paramount, and His power reigns supreme in this realm. No human being has fully comprehended God's secrets, nor served as His counselor. It is the Spirit that enables us to discern even hidden truths, illuminating our understanding. As Jesus Himself elucidates, "No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws him. And I will raise him up on the last day. It is written in the Prophets, 'And they will all be taught by God.' Everyone who has heard and learned from the Father comes to me—not that anyone has seen the Father except he who is from God; he has seen the Father" (John 6:44–46).
Since we can't approach Christ unless we are drawn by the Spirit, the moment of being drawn catapults us above our comprehension.
When the soul, illuminated by the Spirit, obtains a new perspective to perceive heavenly truths, the radiance that once dazzled our souls becomes accessible. Through the light of the Holy Spirit, the human understanding gains a taste for the mysteries pertaining to God's kingdom—mysteries that formerly eluded its grasp. This mirrors our
Lord Jesus Christ's experience: while He indeed reveals the kingdom's mysteries to the two disciples mentioned by Luke, their understanding remains incomplete until their senses are unveiled to comprehend the scriptures (Luke 24:27). After the apostles received divine instruction, the Spirit of truth was still necessary, infusing their understanding with a deeper insight into the teachings they had previously heard (John 16:13). God's word, akin to the sun, shines upon all to whom it is proclaimed. Yet, it is ineffective among those blind to its brilliance. As we are inherently blind to these spiritual truths, their penetration necessitates the illumination of God's Spirit
—the inward Master guiding our understanding.
Ultimately, it's essential that the understanding's acquisition is enshrined in the heart. If God's word merely hovers in the mind, it hasn't been embraced by faith. True reception occurs when it takes root in the heart's depths, serving as an impregnable fortress against the onslaught of temptations. Since understanding illuminated by God's Spirit constitutes true enlightenment, His power is even more evident in fortifying the heart. The heart's lack of confidence surpasses the mind's blindness, and bolstering the heart's assurance proves more challenging than instructing the understanding. Herein lies the purpose of the Holy Spirit as a seal—a seal to inscribe the same promises in our hearts that He first engraved on our understanding, and as a guarantee to affirm and validate them. The apostle succinctly states, "In him you also, when you heard the word
of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and believed in him, were sealed with the promised Holy Spirit, who is the guarantee of our inheritance" (Ephesians 1:13–14). This vividly portrays how the Holy
Spirit marks the hearts of the faithful with a seal, infusing them with confidence, and aptly labeling Him the Spirit of promise for His role in quelling any doubts surrounding the gospel. Similarly, to the Corinthians, Paul remarks, "But it is God who establishes us with you in Christ, and has anointed us, and who has also put his seal on us and given us his Spirit in our hearts as a guarantee" (2 Corinthians
1:22). In another instance, he attributes the foundation of our hope's confidence and boldness to the Spirit's assurance (2 Corinthians 5:5).
One cannot help but recognize the dangerous implications of the theologians' and sophists' teachings—a toxic doctrine asserting that we can only possess a conjectural understanding of God's grace, based on our own perceived worthiness of it. Should we attempt to gauge God's affection for us through our works, it must be acknowledged that comprehending even the slightest inkling of His grace proves insurmountable. Yet, since faith ought to align with God's unadulterated and gratuitous promise, any room for doubt is obliterated. How will we stand firm against the devil's schemes if we believe that God's favor hinges solely on our merit? However, as we have reserved a dedicated chapter to address this matter, we'll defer its exploration. For the time being, it's evident that conjecture and similar sentiments of uncertainty are diametrically opposed to faith.
To bolster their erroneous stance, the sophists frequently misrepresent a passage from Ecclesiastes: "No one can know if he deserves hate or love" (Ecclesiastes 9:1). Yet, it's crucial to emphasize that this statement has been inaccurately translated in the common version. Even young minds can discern that Solomon's intention is to underscore the futility of estimating, based on present circumstances, who God loves or despises. Prosperity and adversity
befall the righteous and the wicked alike, those who serve God and those who disregard Him. This observation leads to the conclusion that God's love or hatred is not always manifested in current events.
Solomon employs this to expose the shortcomings of human comprehension, highlighting its inherent limitation in comprehending fundamental truths. This echoes his prior remark, asserting that people often fail to distinguish between the fate of human souls and animals, a deficiency resulting from their inability to perceive the distinction. Should we deduce from this that our belief in the immortality of souls rests solely on conjecture? Would it not be deemed absurd? Consequently, is it not equally preposterous for these sophists to argue that human certainty regarding God's grace is unattainable, as it eludes the discernment of transient events?
The sophists contend that claiming an infallible knowledge of the divine will is rash presumption. I would concede this point, had we been audacious enough to subject God's incomprehensible wisdom to the confines of our limited understanding. Yet, when we simply echo St. Paul's assertion that we have received a Spirit who transcends worldly realms and originates from God, a Spirit through whom we apprehend the goodness bestowed upon us (1 Corinthians
2:12), what grounds do they possess to object without affronting the Holy Spirit? If deeming a revelation from the Spirit as false, uncertain, or ambiguous amounts to a grievous sacrilege, then how can we be faulted for affirming the certainty of His revelations to us?
The sophists might retort that our bold proclamation of the Spirit of Christ is an act of audacity, revealing their immense folly. To envision those who aspire to be the educators of the world displaying such ignorance in the foundational tenets of Christianity is astonishing. Their stance becomes evident through their writings. St.
Paul asserts that only those led by the Spirit are truly children of God (Romans 8:14). Contrarily, the sophists advocate that God's children are guided by their own spirits, devoid of God's Spirit. St. Paul teaches that unless the Spirit, who exclusively testifies to our souls that we are children of God, imparts this designation to us, we cannot claim God as our Father (Romans 8:16). Although the sophists do not prohibit invoking God's name, they effectively deprive us of the Spirit, the guide through whom we should approach
Him. St. Paul declares that one who isn't led by the Spirit of Christ cannot be considered His servant. Despite this, the sophists formulate a new version of Christianity, entirely detached from the Spirit of Christ. St. Paul provides no assurance of the blessed resurrection unless we sense the Holy Spirit dwelling within us, while the sophists construct a hope devoid of such spiritual connection.
Perhaps the sophists might assert that they do not deny the Holy Spirit's necessity, yet they advocate humility and modesty, encouraging us to remain unaware of His presence. However, what does the Apostle mean when he instructs the Corinthians to examine themselves, testing whether Jesus Christ dwells within them, and warns that anyone lacking this awareness is reprobate (2 Corinthians
13:5)? St. John echoes this sentiment: "By this we know that he abides in us, by the Spirit whom he has given us" (1 John 3:24).
Thus, what we truly do is cast doubt upon Jesus Christ's promises when we endeavor to serve Him without the presence of His Spirit, even though He had proclaimed that His Spirit would be poured out upon all His chosen ones (Joel 2:28). In essence, we diminish the Holy Spirit's glory by isolating faith from His realm, the very realm that is His domain. Since these foundational teachings form the bedrock of our faith, it's bewildering to label Christians as arrogant when they glorify the presence of the Holy Spirit—without whose
presence, Christianity itself would cease to exist. The sophists, by their example, affirm Christ's statement that His Spirit remains concealed from the world, and only those in whom He resides truly comprehend Him (John 14:17).
In their relentless quest to undermine the bedrock of faith, the sophists assail it from another angle, suggesting that while we may deduce God's grace based on our current righteousness, the assurance of our perseverance remains uncertain. Nevertheless, they argue, we can maintain a confident hope of salvation even if we possess nothing beyond a "moral conjecture" that we currently stand in God's grace. Regrettably, the apostle's words convey an entirely different sentiment. He unequivocally declares, "For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord" (Romans 8:38–39).
The sophists, in their pursuit of evasion, offer a flimsy resolution— contending that the apostle arrived at such knowledge through a distinct revelation. Their attempt to escape is bound by their own web, for here the apostle addresses the general blessings that befall all believers through faith, rather than his personal experience.
"Certainly," they assert, "but the apostle himself seeks to stir a sense of caution within us, warning us of our frailty and inconstancy when he admonishes, 'Let anyone who thinks that he stands take heed lest he fall' (1 Corinthians 10:12)." This holds true; yet, he does not intend to invoke fear for the sake of fear itself, but rather to guide us in humbling ourselves under God's omnipotent hand, as St. Peter advocates (1 Peter 5:6). Furthermore, how whimsical it is to restrict the certainty of faith, which ideally should extend beyond this earthly realm and encompass future immortality, to a fleeting moment!
Thus, when the faithful acknowledge that it is by God's grace they are granted the ability, illuminated by His Spirit, to behold the promise of future life through faith, such a glory should not be misconstrued as arrogance. To be ashamed of confessing this glory amounts to ingratitude rather than exemplifying moderation and humility, effectively obscuring and diminishing the magnificence of God's goodness that deserves our utmost reverence.
In a similar vein, the sophists' other fabrications are dismantled using the same rationale. Firstly, they construct the notion that faith is "perfected" when a virtuous affection is amalgamated with the knowledge of God. Secondly, they propagate the idea that ascribing the term "faith" to ignorance and misconceptions about God deceives the ignorant masses. Concerning their first falsehood, they expose their misunderstanding by labeling "informed faith" as ignorant and hollow agreement, thus betraying their lack of comprehension regarding the essence of faith's consent to receive God's truth. As we have already elucidated, the consent of faith emanates from the heart, surpassing the realm of intellect to the domain of affection.
Thus, faith is often referred to as obedience—a term elevated by the Lord above all other forms of servitude (Romans 1:5). This appellation is rightfully conferred, given the immeasurable significance of God's truth, a truth corroborated by believers, as witnessed by St. John the Baptist (John 3:26, 5:33). It is therefore unequivocal that the Sorbonnists err profoundly in asserting that "perfected faith" emerges from the union of consent and virtuous affection, for consent, as portrayed in scripture, cannot exist devoid of virtuous affection.
Furthermore, there exists a more conspicuous rationale. Faith, in receiving Christ as offered by the Father, embraces Him not merely as the source of righteousness, forgiveness, and peace, but also as the
wellspring of sanctification (1 Corinthians 1:30) and the fountain of living water.
Therefore, faith, which necessarily involves apprehending Christ's sanctification, cannot authentically recognize
Him without comprehending the sanctifying influence of His Spirit.
To put it more succinctly, faith is intrinsically linked to knowledge of Christ, and knowledge of Christ is inseparable from the sanctification of His Spirit—thus, faith and virtuous affection cannot be disentangled.
Those who frequently cite St. Paul's declaration that even if someone possesses unwavering faith enabling them to move mountains yet lacks love, such faith amounts to nothing (1 Corinthians 13:2) are gravely misunderstanding the passage's connotation. They intend to concoct an "imperfect faith," devoid of love. Regrettably, they overlook the context in which the term "faith" is used in this passage.
St. Paul is discussing diverse spiritual gifts conferred by the Holy Spirit, including tongues, powers, and prophecies, urging the Corinthians to prioritize gifts that yield greater benefits for the entire church body (1 Corinthians 12:10). He promises to reveal an even more excellent way (1 Corinthians 12:31). Though these gifts possess inherent excellence, they remain ineffectual without being conduits for love, given that their primary purpose is to edify the church. If they fail to serve this purpose, they lose their essence and worth. To emphasize this truth, St. Paul employs different terminology, employing alternative names for the same graces he previously mentioned. For instance, the "power" mentioned earlier is now referred to as "faith," signifying the power to perform miracles.
Given that this capacity, whether termed faith or power, is a unique gift from God susceptible to misuse by the wicked (similar to the gifts of tongues, prophecies, and others), it's understandable that it stands distinct from love. The critical error stems from the sophists' failure to recognize the multiple connotations of the term "faith." They
unreasonably persist in treating it as a consistent concept. The specific passage from St. James they invoke to bolster their claim will be addressed in a subsequent discussion.
The notion of "implicit faith" entertained by some not only obscures authentic faith but eradicates it altogether. Is it not considered an act of faith when one, in surrendering their senses to the guidance of the church, acknowledges and believes? Certainly, faith does not subsist in ignorance but in knowledge—knowledge not only of God, but also of His divine will. Our salvation is not contingent on our readiness to accept all that the church decrees as true, nor do we relegate to the church the duty of inquiry and comprehension. Our salvation is grounded in the knowledge that God, in Christ, has reconciled us to Himself as our benevolent Father. It is through this knowledge that we receive Christ—bestowed upon us for righteousness, sanctification, and eternal life. Our entry into the heavenly realm hinges on this knowledge, not on blindly submitting our spirit to enigmatic matters. When the apostle affirms that one believes in their heart for righteousness and confesses with their mouth for salvation (Romans 10:9), he does not imply that implicit belief in what one does not understand suffices. Rather, he calls for a clear and unblemished comprehension of God's goodness, which constitutes our righteousness.
I do not deny the inevitability of our existing in a realm of ignorance, where many truths remain veiled until we, shedding our mortal bodies, draw closer to God. In matters such as these, I concede that the most prudent course is to suspend judgment and, for now, anchor our will in unity with the church. However, it is fallacious to use this as a pretext to ascribe the label of "faith" to pure ignorance.
True faith rests upon the knowledge of God and Christ—not merely reverence for the church. Alas, the chasm the sophists have carved is
vast: whatever the church presents to the uninformed masses, they receive without discernment, even embracing the most absurd errors. This uncritical compliance, which leads people into perdition, becomes all the more problematic considering that they believe with a caveat: "if the faith of the church dictates." Through this approach, they pretend to uphold truth while immersed in error, to cling to light amidst darkness, and to possess knowledge in the midst of ignorance. To counter these deranged notions, I urge readers to contrast them with our teachings. The brilliance of truth itself will furnish an ample arsenal of arguments to silence these sophists.
The essence of faith finds a perfect expression when directed toward the gospel, its ultimate destination. Yet, it is vital to ask what faith should primarily focus on within the gospel. We touched on this briefly when highlighting how the gospel's essence resides in Jesus
Christ. This implies that not only are all promises encapsulated within Him, but they are also revealed through Him (2 Corinthians
1:20). However, a more detailed exploration of this theme is warranted.
"Eternal life is to know You, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom You have sent" (John 17:3). Indeed, a correct understanding of the Father and Christ is paramount. The Father's nature is discerned exclusively through the Son, for while the Father dwells in unapproachable light, He radiates the brilliance of that light upon us through His Son. Although invisible to our eyes and understanding, the Father offers us His living image through His Son. Thus, the apostle refers to the illumination of the knowledge of God in the face of Jesus Christ (2 Corinthians 4:4). Christ, acknowledged as the light of the world (John 8:12, 12:46), unveils the splendor of divine glory to humanity. It is accurate to say not only that Christ is the radiance of the Father's glory and the exact representation of His nature
(Hebrews 1:3), but also that in Christ, the Father's glory is revealed to us, and His nature is unveiled. The Father has chosen to place all that He possesses in Christ, enabling the Father to commune with us through Christ and glorify His name (John 13:3, 15:15).
Consequently, to seek access to the Father, one must return through the only avenue capable of revealing Him—Christ. When Christ identifies Himself as "the way" (John 14:6), He asserts His exclusive role as our guide. Likewise, when He calls Himself "the door" (John
10:7), He proclaims His role as the gateway, as affirmed in other verses: "No one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son, and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal Him" (Matthew 11:27; Luke 10:22). Just as we must be drawn by the Spirit of the Father to be stirred to seek and embrace Jesus
Christ, we must also acknowledge that the Father, who remains invisible, is only to be sought in Jesus Christ—the image of the Father.
This understanding constitutes genuine knowledge of Christ— accepting Him as the Father offers Him to us, replete with the inexhaustible riches of heaven. Through Christ, we discover a wellspring of joy and all things good (John 1:16). However, to fully appropriate these riches, we must first comprehend the pathway through which they have been procured for us. This pathway entails
Christ's obedience—a demonstration evident in His fulfillment of everything requisite for our salvation according to God's eternal purpose. In parallel to the gospel being the ultimate goal of our faith, and Christ being its distinct destination within the gospel, the gospel itself centralizes on Christ's accomplishments and sufferings for our redemption.
To offer a comprehensive understanding of faith, it is imperative to illuminate the facets within Christ that substantiate and fortify it. A
vivid depiction of its essence will facilitate a holistic grasp of its character, much like a painting that encapsulates the whole. In this endeavor, the Apostles' Creed serves as our artistic rendition, encapsulating the entirety of our salvation's narrative with meticulous precision. While the authorship of the creed is disputed, I remain untroubled by the question of its origin. It has unanimously been attributed to the apostles by early church fathers, whether they believed it to be a collective composition or a compilation of teachings summarized by others—a title granted to confer it with authority. Regardless of its provenance, one truth remains unshaken: from the inception of the church, and even from the era of the apostles, it has functioned as a public and assured expression of faith. It is improbable that a single individual authored it, given its enduring authority across generations. The fundamental fact is irrefutable—the creed encapsulates the entirety of our faith's narrative, leaving no aspect omitted. Therefore, we need not excessively agonize over the identity of its author. Instead, we should rest in the certainty of the Holy Spirit's truth, rather than expend energy debating who communicated it or which hand penned it.
Before delving into the exposition of the creed, let us first acknowledge two vital considerations. The first is that the purpose of expounding this narrative is not merely to possess a superficial knowledge of it. Instead, the intention is for our understanding to ascend to loftier realms of comprehension. The creed conveys two kinds of elements—visible and invisible—and we must examine both aspects thoroughly. The spiritual concepts such as the power of God, the Holy Spirit, and the forgiveness of sins, while intangible to the eye, demand our belief to extend beyond mere acknowledgment. Our faith should engender confidence and hope, driving us to not only recognize God's omnipotence but also to experience His sustaining power and to genuinely receive the Holy Spirit's influence. This
principle should apply equally to other analogous tenets. The same holds true for visible events in the creed—Christ's birth, death, resurrection, and ascension.
Rather than merely external observance, the faithful soul should delve deeper, contemplating the underlying wisdom that informed these events. Our faith's objective is to apprehend the narrative, while its purpose is to contemplate the hidden and unfathomable aspects derived from this narrative. For instance, from Christ's death, we derive assurance in the satisfaction
He offered, and from His resurrection, hope for eternal life springs forth.
The second consideration revolves around the structure of the creed.
It consists of three segments, each corresponding to the description of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. These three segments encapsulate the entire essence of our redemption. The fourth segment outlines the spheres within which our salvation is situated.
This sequence holds great significance and must not be overlooked.
To grasp our salvation's essence, we must initially engage with these three foundational aspects—the vast benevolence and love of the heavenly Father, His sacrificial delivery of His Son for us to restore life (1 John 3:16), the obedience of the Son in fulfilling God's merciful plan for our salvation, and the empowerment of the Holy Spirit that transmits the blessings of God's goodness in Jesus Christ to us. St.
Paul's wishes for the Corinthians encapsulate this concept—invoking the love of God, the grace of Christ, and the communion of the Holy
Spirit (2 Corinthians 13:13). Our blessings are rooted in God's love, offered through Christ's grace, and realized through the Spirit's empowerment. Subsequently, we more deeply explore the faith regarding the church, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and eternal life—forming the fourth segment of the creed.
Throughout history, Satan, aiming to eradicate faith from its very roots, has perpetuated turmoil surrounding the divinity of Jesus
Christ and the distinction of persons within the Godhead. Evil spirits, incited by him, have sown discord among believers, often disturbing the faithful with disputes that challenge the integrity of the scriptures. To commence our exploration of the creed, it seems fitting to address these matters. However, my intention is not to engage in protracted debates with dissenters, but rather to instruct those who possess a teachable spirit. I refrain from presenting a comprehensive argument, despite the gravity of the issue, opting instead to highlight the path we ought to tread and the pitfalls we must avoid. My primary concern remains the education of those who are receptive to the truth.
Foremost, considering the loftiness of scriptural mysteries, a balanced and composed approach is essential to comprehend them.
In this context, exercising moderation and sobriety becomes particularly imperative. Our thoughts and language should refrain from surpassing the bounds of God's Word. The task of compressing
God's infinite essence into human understanding is an audacious endeavor, especially when we have yet to grasp the nature of the sun's body that remains visible to our eyes. How then can our limited understanding encompass the vastness of God's substance? Let us leave to God the knowledge of Himself. He alone, in the words of St.
Hilary, is equipped to testify about Himself, as He is known solely to Himself. We should conceive Him as He reveals Himself, seeking knowledge only through His Word. Chrysostom's five homilies against the Anomoeans provide insightful arguments on this matter.
Nevertheless, let us be cautious, learning from the past, and content ourselves with the lessons scripture imparts. When pondering God's essence, let us not entertain speculations but adhere to His Word in our thoughts, reflections, and speech.
Scripture repeatedly and unmistakably attests to the existence of one God—a singular, eternal, infinite, and spiritual essence. Prolonged arguments are unnecessary to validate this truth. The Manicheans' distortion of a few testimonies to assert two principles is sheer folly.
Similarly, Anthropomorphites, who attributed a physical form to God based on scripture's anthropomorphic language, gravely misconceived His nature. These anthropomorphic expressions, attributing features like a mouth, ears, hands, and feet to God, are a divine condescension, akin to a nurse's gentle tone when speaking to a child. These expressions do not unveil God's essence but rather adapt His revelation to our limited understanding. Therefore, any attempt to measure God's essence based on such descriptions is futile. Consequently, we affirm the unity of God's infinite, eternal, and spiritual essence.
Yet, comprehending the distinctions among the Father, the Son, and the Spirit within the Godhead is far from straightforward and often perplexes many. Let us divide this discussion into two parts. First, affirming the divinity of the Son and the Spirit, and second, explaining the manner of distinction between the Father, Son, and Spirit. Scripture offers an abundance of evidence to establish both aspects. For instance, when we encounter the term "God's Word," it is illogical to envision a fleeting voice echoing through the air.
Rather, it denotes eternal Wisdom abiding within God—a source of ancient oracles and prophecies. Prophets in the Old Testament, as confirmed by St. Peter, communicated through the Spirit of Christ, just as apostles and truth-bearers in subsequent times did (1 Peter
1:10ff; cf. 2 Peter 1:21). This understanding is evident in Moses' account of creation, where God's eternal counsel, not a transient will, set forth the world's genesis (Genesis 1–2). Solomon's portrayal of Wisdom corroborates this understanding—begotten from eternity, it oversaw the world's creation and continues to guide God's work
(Proverbs 8:22). St. John's words provide the most intimate insight, as he declares that the Word, present with God from the outset, is
God Himself (John 1:1–2). Each phrase highlights the eternal essence of the Word. Consequently, while heavenly revelations are rightfully termed "words of God," we must recognize the essential
Word—the origin and fount of all revelations—unchanging and eternal in God.
Amidst the faithful, there exists a subtle group who, while not openly challenging the Son of God's divinity, secretly attempt to undermine
His eternity. They posit that the Word's existence commenced when God, in the act of creating the world, spoke forth His command to bring all things into being. This viewpoint, however, treads upon the majesty of God without due contemplation, as it suggests an element of novelty in His essence. Such an assertion disregards the principle that names ascribed to God in relation to His works were attributed when these works came into being—such as the title "Creator of heaven and earth." Moreover, it is impiety to suggest any name that implies change in God Himself. This perspective distorts the narrative, insinuating that Moses indicated the absence of the Word prior to the act of speaking. Yet, should we deduce non-existence before manifestation? Quite the opposite; as the power of His Word was manifest simultaneously with the creation of light, its preexistence becomes apparent. Jesus Christ, the Word, confirms this eternal presence, transcending time itself: "Father! Glorify your Son in the glory which I had with you eternally, before the world was made" (John 17:5). This declaration goes beyond temporal constraints, illuminating the eternal nature of the Son and affirming
His divine essence.
With the foundation of His divinity established, let us now deeply consider this revelation. However, before we proceed, it is beneficial
to briefly touch upon the Son's appellation as "Son of God." Early church fathers, convinced of the Son's eternal generation from the Father, sought to corroborate this belief through Isaiah's prophecy:
"Who will explain His generation?" (Isaiah 53:8). Yet, their interpretation veered from the truth, as the prophet referred not to the Son's begetting but to the multiplication of descendants in Christ's rule. Assertions drawn from the Psalms carry little assurance, for the line "I have engendered you from my womb before the star of the morning" (Psalm 110:3) stands on a translation that diverges from the Hebrew original. In truth, the Hebrew reads: "The dew of his birth is like the emergence of the star of the morning"
(Psalm 110:3).
A more compelling argument arises from the apostle's words, proclaiming that all things were created through the Son (Colossians
1:16). This logic upholds the Son's pre-existence, for His creative power necessitates His existence. Nonetheless, similar reasoning falters, as the name "Christ" is ascribed to Him in instances where it may not correspond to His eternal state—just as Christ is attributed to Moses in the wilderness (1 Corinthians 10:4). Similarly, stating that Jesus Christ is "yesterday, today, and will be forever" (Hebrews
13:8) lacks the robustness to assert His eternal suitability as the name "Christ." Thus, misusing scripture to support our cause only exposes our faith to the mockery of heretics.
For me, a single argument suffices to solidify my conviction in the Son's eternity: God, the Father, is truly Father only through His Son, to whom alone this honor rightly belongs. Therefore, as God has eternally been invoked as Father, it follows that the Son, by whose role this relationship was established, eternally existed.
Turning to the heart of the matter—proving the Son's divinity—two lines of evidence converge. The Son of God is unequivocally referred to as "God" in clear scriptural testimonies, and His divinity is substantiated by the potency of His works. In Psalms, David declares, "Your throne, O God, will remain forever; the scepter of your reign is a scepter of uprightness" (Psalm 45:6). Critics might attempt to argue that the term ELOHIM is applicable to angels and celestial beings. Yet, no scriptural instance depicts an eternal throne established for a mere creature. This is not merely "God," but also
"One with eternal dominion." This divine authority is not bestowed upon any but the true God. In the following verse, this God is anointed by His God, identifying Him as Jesus Christ, who, in His humanity, humbly submits to God the Father.
Isaiah portrays Him as the Living God, endowing Him with attributes befitting the living God alone. The prophet pronounces,
"Here is the name by which He will be called: 'the Living God, Father of the age to come'" (Isaiah 9:6). Attempts to distort this passage to reduce it to "the powerful God" prove futile. Jeremiah similarly testifies that Jesus Christ is the seed of David, destined for the salvation of His people, and the Eternal One of righteousness
(Jeremiah 23:5). By ascribing this name to Jesus Christ, the true God's essence is affirmed. This declaration aligns with another prophecy—Jesus Christ avowing, "I will not give my glory to another"
(Isaiah 42:8). This resonates against the Jews' efforts to apply this name to altars and the church. Their contentions are hollow; altars represent monuments, not God's essence, while the church's name signifies God's presence within it.
Amidst these, a more intricate passage emerges—the 33rd chapter of Jeremiah—where what is said of Jesus Christ is attributed to the church. Yet, this passage not only fails to counter our argument but
reinforces it. The prophet initially testifies that Jesus Christ is our true God, the source of righteousness. He then signifies the church's knowledge of this truth, allowing it to boast in His name.
The New Testament overflows with a multitude of testimonies, necessitating the selection of pertinent passages over an exhaustive compilation. It is imperative to highlight the apostles' proclamation that prophecies concerning the Eternal God have found fulfillment or will find fulfillment in Jesus Christ. Isaiah predicts that the God of armies will be a stumbling block for the Jews and Israelites (Isaiah
8:14). Paul affirms this fulfillment in Christ (Romans 9:32–33), thereby identifying Christ as the very God of armies Isaiah foresaw.
Similarly, Paul emphasizes that "we must all come to the judgment throne of Christ; for it is written that 'every knee will bow before me, and every tongue will swear in my name'" (Romans 14:10–11; Isaiah
45:23). As God proclaimed this of Himself in Isaiah, its manifestation through Jesus Christ confirms His status as the God whose glory is unparalleled. Furthermore, what Paul conveys to the Ephesians, concerning Christ's ascent to lead His adversaries captive
(Ephesians 4:8), resonates with a passage referring to God's victory over His people's enemies (Psalm 68:18). St. John attests that it was the glory of the Son of God that Isaiah witnessed, even though Isaiah referred to the majesty of the living God (John 12:40; Isaiah 6:10).
Moreover, the passages cited by the apostle in the Epistle to the Hebrews undeniably pertain to God alone. For instance, "Lord, you have established the heavens and earth from the beginning," and "Worship Him, all you His angels" (Hebrews 1:10, 6; Psalm 97:7;
Psalm 102:25). Although these designations honor God's majesty, applying them to Jesus Christ is not misappropriation, as their fulfillment lies solely in Him. He is the one who extends mercy to Zion and takes possession of all peoples and territories, establishing
His kingdom universally. Why would St. John hesitate to attribute God's majesty to Jesus Christ, having initially affirmed in his gospel that He was God Eternal (John 1:1, 14)? Similarly, why would St.
Paul shy away from placing Him on the throne of God, after explicitly declaring His divinity by proclaiming Him as the blessed God eternally (Romans 9:5)? To underscore his unwavering conviction,
Paul also conveys that Jesus Christ is God manifest in flesh (1 Timothy 3:16). Bearing the title of the blessed God eternally, Jesus merits all glory, as the apostle teaches in another passage (Romans
9:5). This truth resounds unequivocally as Paul underscores that, since Jesus Christ possessed God's glory, He did not perceive it as robbery to be equal to God, humbling Himself unto emptiness
(Philippians 2:6–7). Notably, St. John further affirms that Jesus Christ is the true God and eternal life (1 John 5:20).
Considerably, St. Paul predominantly bestows the title "God" upon Jesus Christ, openly declaring the oneness of God amidst the existence of numerous deities: "Although one may name several gods in the heaven and on earth, we nevertheless have one God only, from whom are all things" (1 Corinthians 8:5–6). Paul's attribution of God's manifestation in flesh and His acquisition of the church through His blood (1 Timothy 3:16; Acts 2:22ff, 20:28) nullifies the notion of a secondary, unknown god. Moreover, the consistent belief of the faithful substantiates this conviction; the apostle Thomas' confession—addressing Jesus as his God and Lord (John 20:28)— conveys that he worshipped the solitary God he had always known.
Furthermore, if we evaluate Jesus Christ's divinity based on the works attributed to Him in scripture, His divine nature becomes even more evident. When Jesus asserts that He has always worked with His Father, the Jews comprehend, despite their foolishness, that He claims the power of God. As St. John records, the Jews seek
to kill Him, for He not only violated the Sabbath but also behaved as the Son of God, equating Himself with God (John 5:17–18). This passage resoundingly certifies Jesus' divinity. Governing the world through providence and power, and holding all things under His command (Hebrews 1:3), solely befits the Creator. The authority to forgive sins—professed by the Lord in Isaiah—"It is I, it is I, Israel, who wipes out your sins because of myself" (Isaiah 43:25)—incites
Jewish outrage, perceiving it as an affront to God. Nevertheless, not only does Jesus assert this power through words, but He also proves it through miracles (Matthew 9:2ff). Hence, the ministry of forgiving sins, along with the power to do so—a power God once revealed— unmistakably resides eternally in Jesus Christ. The discernment of people's thoughts and secrets—a divine attribute—is also evident in Jesus Christ, confirming His divinity.
The realm of miracles stands as practical evidence of His divinity, discernible by the senses (John 2:11). While prophets and apostles also performed miraculous deeds, a significant disparity arises; they merely functioned as instruments of God's gifts, while Jesus Christ innately possessed the power. On occasion, Christ referred glory to His Father through prayer (John 11:41–42), yet more frequently He showcased His intrinsic authority. His conferment of the ability to perform miracles to others, under His own authority, attests to His role as the true Author of miracles. The evangelist narrates His granting the apostles power to raise the dead, heal lepers, and cast out demons (Mark 6:7, 13). The apostles employed these abilities in ways that unmistakably traced their origins back to Jesus Christ.
Peter's words to the paralytic, "In the name of Jesus Christ, get up and walk" (Acts 3:6), highlight this attribution to Christ. Thus, it's unsurprising that Jesus Christ utilized His miracles to expose the Jews' disbelief, for their direct manifestation by His authority unequivocally testified to His divinity. Furthermore, encompassing
salvation, righteousness, and life within Himself, Christ demonstrates His divine essence. He is not merely a recipient of salvation; He embodies salvation itself. When reflecting upon Christ's goodness, one must acknowledge that goodness and righteousness, in the truest sense, reside within Him. The evangelist's teaching echoes this truth: "From the beginning of the world life was in Him, and because He was life, He was also the light of the people" (John 1:2, 4). In light of these profound revelations of His divine majesty, we find confidence and faith to place in Him.
This decision, rooted in His Word, counters the notion of entrusting one's faith to a mere creature. St. John exhorts, "Believe also in me"
(John 14:1), reinforcing the trust that stems from believing in God.
St. Paul affirms, "We believe in Jesus Christ to be justified by the faith of Jesus" (Galatians 2:16), elucidating Isaiah's words, "Whoever believes in Him will not be put to shame" (Romans 10:11; Isaiah
28:16), and "There shall come forth a root from Jesse to rule the peoples, and the peoples will hope in Him" (Romans 15:12; Isaiah
11:10). The repetition of the saying, "Whoever believes in me will have eternal life" (John 3:16; 5:24; 6:40; 17:3; etc.), underscores this profound truth.
Furthermore, the invocation that hinges upon faith is rightfully directed to Him—a form of invocation that profoundly resonates with God's majesty. The prophet Joel avows, "Whoever calls on the name of God will be saved" (Joel 2:32), while Solomon asserts, "The name of God is a strong tower; the righteous run to it and are safe"
(Proverbs 18:10). Thus, the name of Christ invoked for salvation underscores His identity as God. St. Stephen's plea, "Lord Jesus, receive my spirit!" (Acts 7:59), exemplifies this practice. Witnessed within the Christian community, Ananias attests to the power of Christ's name in invoking salvation (Acts 9:13). Consequently, the fullness of divinity is unmistakably present in Jesus Christ. St. Paul's
confession, expressed among the Corinthians, affirms the supremacy of Christ's name. Exclusively teaching the knowledge of His name,
Paul refrains from preaching anything other than Christ (1 Corinthians 2:2). This declaration aligns with God's prohibition to glory in any name other than His own (Jeremiah 9:24). This truth resounds: Jesus Christ is not a mere creation; acknowledging Him as such would be a travesty, for knowing Him constitutes our singular glory. Furthermore, the salutations commonly placed at the beginning of apostolic writings resonate; they extend the same benefits from Jesus Christ as they do from God the Father. This not only signifies that through Christ's intercession, we acquire God's benefits but that Christ Himself bestows them. Such knowledge, rooted in practical experience, far surpasses speculative deliberations. The faithful soul attests to the unmistakable presence of God, tangibly sensing His existence through revival, enlightenment, salvation, justification, and sanctification.
This leads us to affirm the same foundation to affirm the divinity of the Holy Spirit. The scriptures attribute qualities to Him that transcend our human experiences and the realm of creatures.
Primarily, He extends everywhere, upholding, preserving, and imparting life to all things in the heavens and on earth. His infinite expansiveness excludes Him from the category of creatures, as divine omnipresence and the bestowal of life upon all beings inherently emanate from God. If rebirth into incorruptible life transcends physical power's grandeur, how exalted is the Holy Spirit, the source of this life? Scripture abundantly teaches that He, by His own power, initiates regeneration (John 3:6) and even promises future immortality (Romans 8:11).
In the fullness of divine revelation, the offices inherently belonging to divinity are attributed to both the Spirit and the Son in scripture.
He, the Spirit, uncovers the deep mysteries of God [1 Corinthians 2:10], providing counsel that transcends the realm of mere creatures.
Wisdom and eloquence, characteristics befitting God's majesty alone, are ascribed to Him—a reality that aligns with the words of our Lord to Moses (Isaiah 11:2; Exodus 4:11). Through the Spirit, we partake in the divine realm, experiencing the life-giving power that emanates from Him. Our righteousness finds its source in Him; sanctification, truth, grace—all that embodies goodness—emanate from His boundless essence. St. Paul underscores this truth, stating, "There is only one Spirit from whom we receive all kinds of good" (1
Corinthians 12:11). Particularly noteworthy, scripture refers to Him as "God." St. Paul deduces that we are temples of God, dwelling within us, a notion that should not be taken lightly. Throughout the Scriptures, our Lord's promises of choosing us as His temples and tabernacles find fulfillment through the indwelling of His Spirit within us (1 Corinthians 3:16–17; 6:19; 2:12). The apostle's writings alternate between calling us the "temple of God" and the "temple of His Spirit" [1 Corinthians 3:16–17; 6:19]. As St. Peter reproaches
Ananias for deceiving the Holy Spirit, he declares that Ananias lied not to people, but to God (Acts 5:4). Isaiah's prophetic words are attributed to the Holy Spirit by St. Paul (Acts 28:25ff; Isaiah 6:9–10).
When Isaiah depicts God's distress due to the people's stubbornness, St. Paul attributes this affliction to the Spirit of God (Isaiah 63:10).
In summation, a single argument suffices to firmly establish the triune divinity of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. If our baptism signifies initiation into the faith and devotion to one God, the name in which we are baptized designates our God. Thus, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit are encompassed within the same divine essence, evidenced by our baptism performed in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. St. Paul links these three—God, faith, and baptism—so closely together (Ephesians 4:5–
6) that he demonstrates their interdependence. The unity of faith, affirming a single God, logically implies that differing faiths would necessitate different gods. Baptism, as a sacrament of faith, confirms this unity. It follows that baptism in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit (Matthew 28:19) demands our belief in them.
This command underscores the inseparable unity of the triune God, declaring the three as one.
As we firmly establish the truth of a singular God, the conclusion emerges that the Son and the Holy Spirit share the divine essence.
The misconceptions of the Arians become evident as they conceded the title of God to Jesus Christ while denying His divine substance.
Similarly, the Macedonians erred by limiting the Holy Spirit to the bestowal of grace, dismissing the reality that He is the source of wisdom, understanding, strength, and all powers. The truth, however, remains undivided—the Spirit's grace flows in diverse forms, while His essence remains whole, in harmony with the apostle's words (1 Corinthians 12:11).
In the pages of scripture, a delicate distinction between God, His Word, and the Holy Spirit emerges—a distinction that calls for reverence and sober contemplation, given the immense mystery it entails. The wisdom of St. Gregory of Nazianzus resonates deeply: "I cannot think of one of them without being surrounded by the three; I cannot discern the three without being carried back to the one."
Thus, while acknowledging the reality of a distinction, we must tread carefully to avoid envisioning a trinity of persons that bewilders the mind and does not ultimately lead to unity. Certainly, the terms
"Father," "Son," and "Spirit" signify genuine distinctions, avoiding any inclination to perceive them as mere labels to differentiate God in various ways. Yet, it is essential to recognize that this distinction implies unity rather than division. Consider, for instance, how the
heavenly Father designates His Son as a "companion" or "neighbor" in Zechariah (Zechariah 13:7). This term implies a distinction between the Father and the Son, as there exists no familial relationship between God and creatures. Similarly, the Son emphasizes His differentiation from the Father by asserting the existence of another who testifies on His behalf (John 8:18).
Scripture, too, substantiates this distinction between God and His Word. When the Father creates all things through His Word, it underscores the differentiation between them. Importantly, this distinction does not originate with the incarnation of the Son, as the pre-existent Son dwelled in the Father's bosom (John 1:18) before descending to take on human form. This truth affirms that the Son's reign in glory existed from the beginning.
Likewise, the distinction between the Holy Spirit and the Father is evident in the Spirit's procession from the Father, while the distinction between the Spirit and the Son emerges when Jesus
Christ speaks of another Comforter coming (John 15:26), a distinction reaffirmed across various passages. Yet, explaining the essence of this distinction proves a challenge. While some analogies from human affairs have been borrowed by early church fathers, they themselves confessed the limitations of such analogies. Thus, an element of caution is warranted, lest our words be misconstrued and misused.
Indeed, the distinction is expressed in scripture: the Father is the origin of all actions and the source of everything; the Son embodies wisdom, counsel, and the arrangement of all things; the Holy Spirit represents power and efficacy in all actions. The unity of the Father,
Son, and Holy Spirit's eternal existence is irrefutable—God's wisdom and power could never exist independently, making it senseless to
prioritize one over the other. Although divine unity necessitates no hierarchy of first or second within eternity, the order between the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit remains significant. The Father is identified as the first, followed by the Son emanating from Him, and the Holy Spirit proceeding from both. This sequence mirrors the human mind's natural inclination, contemplating God, His Wisdom, and His Power in an orderly progression. This order is evident in passages like Romans 8, where the Holy Spirit is referred to as the Spirit of Christ and the Spirit of the One who raised Christ from the dead, showcasing unity without distinction (Romans 8:9, 11). This harmony resonates with St. Peter's testimony that it was the Spirit of Christ through which the prophets spoke (1 Peter 1:11), aligning with scripture's frequent assertion of the Spirit as both the Spirit of the Father and of the Son.
In truth, the distinction within the triune God does not negate unity; rather, it affirms the unity. It confirms that the Son shares the same divine essence as the Father, evidenced by their mutual possession of the same Spirit. Similarly, the Holy Spirit's essence is not separate from that of the Father and the Son, for He is their Spirit. This unified essence is uniquely expressed within each Person, reflecting their distinct roles. The Father fully resides in the Son, and the Son in the Father, as affirmed by Christ Himself: "I am in my Father and my Father is in me" (John 14:10). The consensus of the church fathers aligns with this understanding; they refute any differentiation within the Essence among the Persons. While some early fathers seemingly presented differing ideas, such as referring to the Father as the beginning of the Son, they ultimately upheld the unity of the divine essence. The seemingly contradictory language is better reconciled when considering that sometimes they explained that the Son possessed His divinity and essence from Himself.
The claims of Sabellians, who liken God's titles to adjectives like "powerful," "good," "wise," and "merciful," are easily refuted upon deeper reflection. These titles are descriptions that illuminate God's nature toward us, while the titles "Father," "Son," and "Spirit" reveal
His inner essence. The distinction between these names and attributes is crucial. Furthermore, we must not confuse the Spirit with the Father and the Son merely because God is referred to as Spirit (John 4:24). Indeed, it is fitting for the entirety of God's essence to be characterized as spiritual, with the Father, Son, and Spirit being harmoniously united within this essence. Just as scripture identifies God as Spirit, it also affirms that the Spirit is of God and proceeds from God (John 15:26).
Those who approach these truths without contentiousness recognize how the Father, Word (Son), and Spirit exist harmoniously within a single divine essence. Even the most stubborn opponents struggle to refute this point. The Father and the Son are God, and the Holy
Spirit is God. Yet, the truth that emerges remains unwavering—there is only one God. On the other hand, scripture explicitly names three distinct entities, highlights their individualities, and distinguishes them. This is the essence of both three and one: a singular God, a singular essence. Who are these three? Not separate gods, not distinct essences, but rather, three attributes or qualities. The early
Greek church fathers aptly described this as one essence containing three hypostases. Those using Latin language, while agreeing on the essence, modified one term slightly. They asserted the existence of one essence and three persons, perceiving the latter term as indicative of a relational aspect.
Critics and dissenters raised objections, comparing the terms "essence" and "hypostasis" to human inventions absent from scripture. However, the unassailable reality remains that three
distinct entities coexist within the same divine deity. It is essential to recognize that these words merely convey concepts found within scripture. The call to remain within scriptural boundaries is valid, urging us to avoid introducing new terms that could lead to division and disputes. Engaging in unnecessary word-battles and quarrels detracts from the truth and weakens love and charity. While the critique of using words not found word-for-word in scripture is reasonable, it's important to strike a balance. Demanding every word align syllable-by-syllable with scripture would be impractical and dismiss many valuable sermons. However, if "strange words" refer to inventions driven by curiosity, defended with superstition, leading to strife instead of edification, and straying from scriptural simplicity, it is a prudent stance. Reverence for God in both thought and language must match our understanding of His majesty, as our human thoughts and expressions fall short of grasping His fullness.
Nonetheless, finding a middle ground is necessary. While scripture guides our thoughts and words, there's room to clarify concepts that may be obscurely presented therein. This is permissible as long as our explanations faithfully align with scriptural truth, are rooted in reason, and avoid excessive liberty. Instances of this abound in our daily lives. Can it not be argued that the church adopted the terms
"Trinity" and "persons" to defend the truth against slander and misconstruction?
Criticizing these terms as novel suggests discomfort with the light of truth—especially when these words serve to elucidate scriptural truths that are challenged by adversaries. In the face of contemporary challenges, clear explanations are essential to confront those who evade the truth. Just as early church fathers confronted erroneous teachings with straightforward explanations, these clarifications left no room for misinterpretation, curbing the potential for deceit.
Arius, in his attempt to align with the testimonies of scripture, confessed Jesus Christ as God and the Son of God. However, he persisted in claiming Christ was created and had a beginning like other creatures. In response, the early church fathers proclaimed
Christ as the eternal Son of God, of the same substance as the Father, to expose Arian impiety. Had Arians confessed Christ's divinity from the start, they might not have denied His divine essence. Critics who question the intention of these fathers to incite conflicts ignore the gravity of these matters. A single word, carefully chosen, ignited fervent debates, revealing true believers from heretics.
Following Sabellius, who dismissed the significance of the titles "Father," "Son," and "Holy Spirit," and likened them to the attributes of God such as "powerful," "good," and "wise," we must address his misguided claims. While Sabellius acknowledged the Father and the Son as God, he later retreated, asserting that his words were akin to calling God "good" or "wise." Yet, he ventured further, suggesting that the Father was the Son and the Son was the Holy Spirit, erasing all distinction. Those in that era, upholding the honor of God, confronted Sabellius, urging him to recognize the trifold nature of one God. In response, they established the truth that within the divine essence, a trinity of persons coexists.
If these names were not coined haphazardly, then we should not be hasty in condemning them. It is preferable for these terms to be buried, if only the faith remains unwavering worldwide—that the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are one God, yet distinct in their characteristics. The word "hypostasis" appears to carry the same significance in the apostle's words as the early church fathers assigned to it here. The apostle refers to the Son as the image of the hypostasis of God the Father (Hebrews 1:3). I disagree with interpreting "hypostasis" as essence, suggesting that Christ merely
reflects the Father's image, like wax conforming to a seal. Instead, I believe the apostle implies that the Father, while distinct, fully manifests Himself in the Son. His very person—His hypostasis— radiates and is unveiled. It would be improper to label Christ as the image of His Father's essence, as He encompasses the essence wholly, not partially or through transfer, but in its entirety.
However, I am not so naïve or dogmatic as to provoke intense disputes over simple terms. It's evident to me that the early church fathers, though deeply respectful in their discussions, did not always reach unanimity in every instance. They varied in expressions and forms of speech, as evidenced by the councils and writings of St.
Hilary and St. Augustine. Discrepancies also existed between the Greek and Latin perspectives. To illustrate, the Latin fathers interpreted the Greek term "homoousios" as "consubstantial," signifying the Son's sameness of substance with the Father.
Conversely, St. Hilary mentioned "three substances" in God over a hundred times. He lamented the necessity of expressing profound truths through human words, and acknowledged the limitations of language in conveying divine mysteries. It's crucial to recognize this diversity within the church's tradition.
St. Hilary's moderation serves as a reminder not to hastily condemn those who don't fully embrace our vocabulary. Educating them about the necessity behind our expressions and gradually familiarizing them with our terminology is essential. In a climate of defending against Arianism and Sabellianism, any resistance to these explanations may raise suspicions of sympathy with these errors.
Arius admitted Christ's divinity, but in secret, he wavered, suggesting Christ was created and had a beginning. He confessed Christ's unity with the Father but privately implied it was a common privilege for the faithful. Affirming that Christ is of the same substance as the