"It will probably be right, then, to distribute the views of those who are accepted now as Orthodox teachers, into two classes—one who consider the death of Christ as availing by what it is; the other, by force of what it expresses; the former holding it as a literal substitution of evil endured for evil that was to be endured; the latter holding it as an expression of abhorrence to sin, made, through the suffering of one, in place of the same expression that was to be made by the suffering of many.

"As regards the former class of representations, we may say, comprehensively, that they are capable, one and all, of no light in which they do not even offend some right moral sentiment of our being. Indeed, they raise up moral objections with such marvellous fecundity, that we can hardly state them as fast as they occur to us."(19)



2. Great Importance attributed to this Doctrine.

But, notwithstanding the fact that there is such confusion in the minds of the Orthodox about this doctrine, there is, nevertheless, no doctrine the belief in which is regarded as so important. With respect to other doctrines,—the Trinity, for example,—dogmatic Christianity declares our salvation to depend upon our belief of it; but in regard to the atonement, it goes farther, and makes our salvation depend on using the phraseology of the doctrine. Other doctrines will save us, on the condition of believing them; this, on the condition of using the language. If a man shall lead a life of purity and goodness, but expresses doubts concerning this doctrine, his Orthodox friends will have scarcely any hope of his salvation; but if the most depraved criminal, after a life steeped in wickedness, shall merely say on his death-bed, that he hopes "to be saved by the atoning blood of Christ," he is thought immediately to be on the fair way to heaven. No matter how good a man is, if he does not accept the Orthodox language on this point, his friends fear for him: no matter how bad he is, if he does accept it, they hope for him. There is a sort of magical power attributed to the very words. They are almost supposed to act like a talisman or a charm.

Now, while we reject all such superstitious views of the power of mere words, while we reject all false meaning and all no meaning, it is proper to think that there may be some substantial truth in these Orthodox opinions concerning the atonement. Let us endeavor to find what this vital truth really is, and why this doctrine is so dear to the heart of Orthodoxy.



3. Stress laid on the Death of Jesus in the Scripture.

Consider the stress laid on the sufferings of Jesus in the New Testament. Notice what our Saviour says himself: "This is my blood of the New Covenant, which is shed for many for the remission of sins." "The bread that I will give is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world." "For as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of man be lifted up, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have eternal life." "I am the good shepherd: the good shepherd giveth his life for the sheep."

Consider, again, what is said on this subject in the Epistles. "Jesus Christ, whom God hath set forth as a mercy seat through faith in his blood." "When we were enemies we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son." "He died for our sins." "He is sacrificed for us." "He gave himself for our sins." "We have redemption through his blood, even the forgiveness of sin." "Having made peace through the blood of his cross." "He gave himself a ransom for all." "He washed us from our sins through his blood." "By whose stripes we are healed." "Though he were a Son, yet learned he obedience by the things which he suffered, and being made perfect, became the author of eternal salvation unto all them that obey him." Again: "But we see Jesus, who was made a little lower than the angels, for the suffering of death, crowned with glory and honor, that he, by the grace of God, should taste death for every man. For it became him, for whom are all things, and by whom are all things, in bringing many sons unto glory, to make the Captain of their salvation perfect through sufferings." "Wherefore in all things it behooved him to be made like unto his brethren, that he might be a merciful and faithful high priest in things pertaining to God, to make reconciliation for the sins of the people. For in that he himself hath suffered, being tempted, he is able to succor them that are tempted."

These are some of the passages which connect the sufferings of Jesus Christ with sin on the one hand, and salvation on the other.



4. Difficulty in interpreting these Scripture Passages.

There is a difficulty, however, in understanding the meaning and feeling the force of such texts as these. This difficulty consists in the fact that these passages are constantly quoted as proof texts. From our childhood up we have heard them brought forward to prove the truth of some particular doctrine or theory of atonement, and when we read these verses, we immediately associate them with some doctrine which we like or dislike. Our feelings and prejudices are involved in interpreting the passage one way or the other, so that we are unable to look at it fairly. In order to overcome this difficulty, we must make this obvious distinction. We must distinguish between the statement of a fact and the theory concerning it. The fact which the Bible states is simply this—that the sins of man were the occasion of Christ's death, and that by his death he saves us from our sin. This is the fact which the Scriptures assert. The way in which he saves us is a matter of theory. Why it was that human sin made it necessary for Christ to die, how it is that his death reconciles us to God,—this belongs to the theory.

Now, while the Scriptures say a great deal about the fact that Christ's sufferings save us from our sins, they say very little as regards the way in which they save us from our sins.



5. Theological Theories based on the Figurative Language of the New Testament.

The Scriptures state the fact; the theologians have supplied the explanations. Innumerable have been the theories devised by theology to show in what way the sufferings of Christ have availed for the salvation of men—theories of imputation, theories of substitution, theories of satisfaction. He was punished in our place; he paid our debt; he was our federal head and representative; he satisfied the justice of God; he appeased the wrath of God. But especially are the figures and metaphors of the New Testament pressed into the service of theology, and made the basis of grave theories. Thus are metaphors turned into metaphysics, and rhetoric changed to logic. The images of the New Testament were naturally taken from familiar objects and transactions, especially from war, from slavery, and from the Jewish ritual. Sin is our enemy, who has conquered us in battle, and made us his prisoners. Christ redeems us from this captivity, and pays our ransom. Sin is a cruel master, and we are his slaves. He is about to torture us with the rod. Christ comes and takes our punishment on himself. He bears our stripes. According to the Jewish ritual the paschal feast was a commemoration of God's mercy. It was to the Jews what Thanksgiving Day is to the people of New England. So the Christians said Christ is our Passover. In the Jewish ritual God was believed to manifest himself over the mercy seat in the inner sanctuary of the temple. The Christians said, Christ is our mercy seat. All this was natural; but these images have been turned into elaborate theories by the theologians who have argued that Christ's death was a literal ransom, a literal mercy seat, and a literal passover.

These theories have mostly passed by. The common Orthodox theory in New England now is much more reasonable, but unfortunately much less scriptural. It is founded on the analogy of human government. God is compared to a wise and kind ruler, who governs by law, and who wishes to pardon the penitent criminal, but fears that if he does so, he will impair the respect felt for his law, and therefore thinks it necessary to do something to show the evil of disobedience before he can pardon. Christ is willing to die in order to make this impression on the minds of men. And this he accordingly does. But unfortunately, as we said, there is nothing in the Scripture, not even a metaphorical expression, to support this theory. The apostles did not have recourse for their figures and images to such usage of government, and that for the simple reason that no such usage or necessity then existed. The governments were all despotic, and no despot, wishing to pardon, had any difficulty on the ground that the sanctity of his laws might be impaired.

War, slavery, and the Jewish ritual, and household usages existed. Their images were taken from these. They spoke of ransom, of stripes, of the passover, and the mercy seat, of washing and healing, but not of governments and laws.

Sin is our conqueror, and Christ redeems us. Sin is a slavery, and Christ ransoms us. Sin is defilement, and Christ washes us. Sin is a disease, and Christ heals us. All this occurs again and again, but nothing occurs about constitutional governments, or conflicts between the claims of justice and mercy.



6. The three principal Views of the Atonement—warlike, legal, and governmental.

Three principal views on this subject have prevailed in the Christian Church as Orthodox. The first may be called the warlike view of Christ's work, the second may be called the legal view, and the third the governmental view. The first was the prevailing Orthodox view from the earliest times till the middle ages, and is based on the idea of a conflict or war between Christ and the Devil for the soul of man. The Devil had gained possession of the human race in consequence of its sin. The right of the Devil over men was fully admitted. Augustine considered it as the right of property, Leo the Great as the right of a conqueror. Christ gave his own life to the Devil as a ransom, which was adequate to redeem the whole race. This theory rested on the literal interpretation of the words "ransom" and "redemption." If Christ's death was a ransom, if he came "to give his life a ransom for many," the question naturally arose, "From whose power were men redeemed, and to whom was the ransom paid?" Certainly, men were not redeemed from the power of God. The ransom could not have been paid to God, but to some enemy who held us as his prisoners. The only possible answer, therefore, is, that the ransom was paid to the Devil. The Devil was the cruel tyrant who had enslaved us. He had a right to do so; for we had become his slaves through our sin. But he had no right over Christ, for Christ had committed no sin; so that the death of Christ was a free offering to the Devil to redeem the race. According to this view, therefore, the atonement was made to the Devil.

But in the middle ages another view of the atonement became Orthodox, founded not upon the idea of a ransom, but on that of a debt. According to this view the divine law requires that the debt which man owes to God, which is perfect obedience, shall be paid, either by himself or by some one else. Anselm, the founder of this theory, defined sin "as not giving to God his due." Man cannot pay this debt himself, and therefore Christ pays it for him. This is the legal view of the atonement, or perhaps we might rather call it the commercial view.

But this theory, after having endured as Orthodox for some five hundred years, gave place to a third, based not on the idea of a ransom or of a debt, but of a state necessity. It would not do for God, as a moral Governor, to forgive sin, unless by some great example an impression could be made of the evil of sin. This impression is produced by the death of Christ, who therefore died not to atone for past sin, but to prevent future sin, or, in other words, to make a moral impression on the human mind. This is the popular theory of the atonement held by the Orthodox at the present time. But it is very much mixed up with the others. The different views held by modern Orthodoxy range all the way from the old Calvinism of Princeton, through the various shades of New England theology, to the latest form expressed by Dr. Horace Bushnell in his recent work on "Vicarious Sacrifice."



7. Impression made by Christ's Death on the Minds of his Disciples. First Theory on the Subject in the Epistle to the Hebrews.

The sufferings of Jesus produced a wonderful impression on the minds of his disciples. This impression was compounded of astonishment, tenderness, and gratitude. That a man so divine in character, in wisdom, in a command over nature, should submit willingly to such labor, ignominy, and anguish, was a wonder to them. But there was a mystery of sorrow beneath the visible sorrow, a pain within the pain, a depth of grief felt not for himself, but for others, an anguish on account of the sin of the world, which especially awed and touched them. Christ plunged into the midst of sin to save souls, as a hero rushes into the midst of burning flames to save lives. No man like Jesus had ever felt such anguish and horror at the sight of sin; but instead of flying from it, he came into the midst of it to save the sinner. This was the secret of his agony, the bitterness of his cup. Martyrs at the stake are borne up by their own triumphant self-approval. But Jesus, in his anguish, did not think of his own triumph, but the sin and sorrow of those who afflicted him. "Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not for me, but weep for yourselves and your children." "Father, forgive them; they know not what they do." This is the secret of Christ's anguish—this infinite horror of sin joined to an infinite love for the sinner.

Through this depth of sorrow there came to the minds of the apostles a revelation of the evil of sin and the infinite compassion of God, which produced penitence, hope, and love. The dying Christ reconciled them to God. This they felt and declared; they did not attempt to explain how, but by images and metaphors drawn from all familiar objects, they declared that Christ's sorrows more than his glory, his patience rather than his power, his death more than his life, had withdrawn their hearts from sin, and given them peace with God.

One writer alone in the New Testament attempts an explanation of this influence. It is only an attempt, a mere hint, the germ of a theology: it is found in the Epistle to the Hebrews.(20)

According to these passages Christ suffered,—1. To learn obedience; 2. That he might thus become perfect; 3. By an entire cultivation of his sympathies with the tempted; 4. So as to become to them the author of eternal salvation by reconciling them to God.

This, we may observe, so far as it goes, is really a theory of atonement, and not a mere statement of the fact. Moreover, it seems to us to contain the germ of a far nobler and deeper theory than any in which the Church has hitherto believed. It is more human, more rational, connected more with real experience and the solid facts of life.



8. Value of Suffering as a Means of Education.

The sufferings of Christ were necessary for his own perfection, and suffering in some form or other is necessary for all perfection. It is often said that suffering in this world is casual, an accidental thing, arising from human mistakes, and that the time will come in which man will grow up into perfection without suffering. A perpetual sunlight is thought to be the best condition for the human plant. Pain and want stunt its growth, winter storms arrest its development; and so it is supposed that if we can get rid of this element of suffering, human beings will soon become all they ought to be. But the poet speaks more wisely who says,—

"To each their sufferings: all are men Condemned alike to groan; The feeling for another's woe, The unfeeling for his own."

For suppose that we could remove from the world all outward evil—get rid of sickness, pain, poverty, death. Would not the worst part of evil still remain? Would not discontent, selfishness, envy, wilfulness, cruelty, self-indulgence continue? All these exist—perhaps exist most frequently—where there is the least of outward evil; and the outward evil is the bitter medicine which comes by and by as a cure.



9. The Human Conscience suggests the Need of some Satisfaction in order to our Forgiveness.

The central idea of the atonement is, that Christ has done something which enables God to forgive us our sin; and the reason why this doctrine of atonement seems so precious is, that we feel that there is a real difficulty in the way of forgiveness,—as if something else were necessary besides repentance,—as if some compensation or reparation should be made somehow to the offended law of God, or to the aggrieved holiness of God. We do not say that this feeling is a true feeling: that question we must consider afterwards. But it is, at any rate, a natural feeling, whether it be founded on our knowledge of God or our ignorance of God. It is hard to believe that a man whom we have injured will forgive us that injury merely because we ask him to do so, and are sorry for what we have done. We feel that we must make some reparation before he can or ought to forgive us. Unquestionably, the conscience is the source of this feeling. It led Zaccheus to say, "If I have done any man wrong, I restore him four-fold." A full reparation for an injury, accompanied with sorrow for having done it, the expression of which sorrow is confession, satisfies the conscience. Having done this, we feel that we have a right to be forgiven.

But it is very seldom that such full reparation can be made. The consequences of our wrong acts cannot usually be removed or effaced. Wrong-doing is like the gate of hell—easy to open, but difficult, if not impossible, to close again. "She opened, but to shut excelled her power." Instead of reparation, therefore, the conscience substitutes retribution—either reparation or the penalty; and the natural form of the penalty is an equivalent. Natural justice says, "An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth." This the conscience thinks right; this is justice. All less than this is mercy; all more than this is revenge.

We think that if we analyze the feeling which the conscience gives us concerning the consequences of wrong-doing, it is this: First, conscience demands reparation to the injured party; second, it demands punishment as a satisfaction to be made to the law of right, and this suffering to be accepted as just by the guilty party; and thirdly, it declares that guilt should produce an alienation or separation between the guilty party and those who are not guilty.

To illustrate all this, let us suppose a case. A man, hitherto respected and trusted by society commits some great breach of trust, and robs the community. What does the conscience in such a case demand? First, that he should give up his property, and make, if he can, full restitution; second, that he should endure some suffering—that he should not continue to enjoy, as before, all his accustomed privileges; and third, that he should not retain his standing in society, and receive, as before, the countenance and esteem of honorable persons. Conscience requires that he should make atonement to those he has injured by restitution; to the law of right, which he has offended, by suffering some punishment; and to honorable men by keeping out of their way.

This, which the conscience teaches of an injury done to man, it also teaches of an injury done to God. The offence against man is a crime; the offence against God is a sin. For a crime, the conscience requires restitution, punishment with confession, and alienation from the good, which is shame. For a sin, the conscience requires, in like manner, restitution, punishment, and alienation. It merely transfers to God's justice the ideas of atonement which human justice has given to it.

But God's justice is not like man's. The ideas of atonement so abstracted are essentially false; and to convince us of their falsehood is one of the objects of Christ's death. It is to show us that God does not demand this full restitution, does not intend to inflict this punishment, and is not alienated from the penitent sinner. The death of Christ has done this.



10. How the Death of Jesus brings Men to God.

As a matter of fact, the death of Christ has enabled men to come to God. "They who were afar off are made nigh by the blood of Christ." As a matter of fact, it has lifted men above the fear of God into the love of God. And this must be a divine work. Not the mere death of the human being could have done this; but the God who dwelt in him has uttered his tender love, his forgiving grace, from the cross. "God was in Christ, reconciling the world unto himself." The death of Christ is an expression of God's free grace. If we regard Christ, in his life and character, as a manifestation of God's will, then his pathetic and tender death reveals to us that God loves us even when we are sinners, before reparation or repentance; "for, while we were sinners, Christ died for us."

There is, however, a difficulty in believing that we can be forgiven. This difficulty is in the conscience; and,—

(a.) To say there is no difficulty, will not remove it.

(b.) To say that repentance and good works are enough, will not remove it.

(c.) To say that God is merciful, will not remove it; for the difficulty lies in the conscience, which declares that every sin is,—

1. An injury done to God.

2. An injury to the moral universe; inasmuch as it is an example of evil, and a defiance of right.

3. An injury to ourselves, by putting us away from God, the source of life, and alienating us from him.

Now, it is true that the New Testament says, "Repent, and be converted, and your sins shall be blotted out;" "Believe, and be saved." It is true that if we will believe ourselves forgiven, we shall be forgiven. But how can we believe it, when the inward voice of conscience is always saying that God ought not to forgive us without some reparation made for the injury done to himself, to the universe, and to ourselves?

We need something to believe in—some manifestation, some object. Something we need done by God to assure us that he is in earnest in desiring us to come and be reconciled to him.

Now, the sufferings and death of Christ seem to be this object: they enable us to believe in forgiveness, and so to be forgiven; they meet the difficulty of the conscience, and relieve it of its threefold embarrassment. For, in regard to the injury done to God, Christ's sufferings are substitution, or vicarious suffering. I do not say vicarious punishment. The innocent cannot be punished in the place of the guilty; but he can suffer, and constantly does suffer, in the place of the guilty. These two laws are announced in the Old Testament: "The soul that sinneth, it shall die;" "The wickedness of parents shall be on the children." If a man is alone, he must bear all the consequences of his sins; but if he have friends and children, they will relieve him of some by their self-sacrificing kindness: their sufferings take the place of his punishment. How often a wife does this!—interposing her sufferings between her husband's sins and their penalty. And what a profound impression is made by it of the evil of sin! It torments innocent women and children; it shipwrecks the peace of a family. What an effect is produced on the man himself! What a reproach and tender rebuke to him is this! The sufferings of Christ are substituted in this way for ours, according to this law; and this divine substitution is continued in the sacrifices of Christians. Missionaries and martyrs, by their zeal, patience, and generosity, carry out the sacrifice of Christ. This is God in Christ working in us and in the Church, and working for sinners.

Then, as to the injury to the world by the contempt sin does to the law, the sufferings of Christ are satisfaction: they satisfy the divine law; they make an impression of the importance of the law. But here, again, it is not merely Christ alone who does it, but God in Christ, and Christ in the Church, who honor the divine law by the respect produced for it. They bring us to repentance; they make us feel the sinfulness of sin; show us the misery it causes to those who love us,—how it pains God, pains Christ, pains the good, and pains our friends. So we feel it, and show it by true penitence, and so honor the law. The law is satisfied when the sufferings of Christ and his followers, caused by sin, lead men to abhor sin, and love righteousness.

As to the injury which sin does to a man himself by separating him from God's love, and making him at enmity with God, and God's wrath on him, the sufferings of Christ are reconciliation. "God was in Christ, reconciling the world to himself." Why was God alienated from man? Because he is holy. How can an unholy person be at one with a holy God? The answer is this: God comes into his heart by Christ, to form Christ within him, and to make him holy as Christ was holy. He sees that when united with Christ his sinfulness is killed in its roots, and a seed of perfect purity is planted in his soul; and so God is able to be at one with him through his union with Christ: "I in them, and thou in me, that we may be perfectly at one." A love for Christ in the heart forms Christ within us. He is our life, our motive power, our aim; and so he casts out the root of our sin, and brings us to God.

Thus we see that, even though we should reject all the Orthodox theories about atonement, we may accept the fact. We can believe that God in Christ does reconcile the world to himself,—does create a sense of pardoned sin,—does remove the weight of transgression,—does take away the obstacle in our conscience,—does help us into a living faith, hope, peace, and joy.

Moreover, Christ is really a sacrifice for sin—a real and true sin-offering. For what were the sin-offerings under the law? How did they remove sin? Not by themselves (it was impossible for the blood of bulls and goats to remove sin), but because they were an appointment of God, and so showed God's disposition. They showed that his holiness was displeased with evil; they showed that he loved the sinner, and wished to make him holy. So the death of Christ is a true sacrifice in exactly the same way, but in a higher degree, convincing us of the evil of sin and the love of God.

The experience of the whole Church teaches the power of this faith to create in our souls a new life of love. Seeing God coming to us in Christ to reconcile us to himself, and freely forgiving our sins, removes from our hearts doubt, anxiety, and the burden of hard responsibility, and fills the soul with a deep peace and joy in believing. So felt the apostle Peter when the Master forgave him his denial. From the fountain of that forgiveness flowed forth a river of devotion. So felt Paul when forgiven by Jesus; so felt Augustine, so Ambrose, so Luther, so Wesley: because they had been forgiven much, they loved much; for to whom little is forgiven, the same loveth little.

The practical conclusion is, that it is less important to speculate as to the how, than to endeavor to see the fact. What we need is faith in God's pardoning, redeeming, saving love in Christ Jesus—faith that our sins are blotted out; that we can come at once to our Father; that we can come boldly to the throne of grace; that the infinite Father looks at us with love when we are a great way off, and says, "This my son was dead, and is alive again; was lost, and is found."

We may therefore, when we are conscious of going wrong and of doing wrong, instead of trying to reform ourselves alone by our own strength, go first to God, and be forgiven through faith in the great sacrifice of Christ: "When God hath set forth to be a propitiation (or mercy seat), through faith in his blood, to declare his righteousness for the remission of sins that are past, through the forbearance of God, that he might be just, and the justifier of him which believeth in Jesus."



11. This Law of Vicarious Suffering universal.

Orthodoxy, in all its theories concerning the influence of the death of Jesus, has supposed his case exceptional and his work peculiar. It would be very shocking to most Orthodox minds to suppose that the same law of vicarious sacrifice applies to others; that the sufferings and death of the good, in all ages, have helped to atone for evil; have enabled sinners to obtain pardon. But such, we believe, is the fact.

Jesus Christ came, providentially, as the typical and perfect man—the one who was sent by God, in his providence, to illustrate what humanity is to be and to do. If this is so, then Christ did essentially nothing but that which is finally to be done by all, in some degree, or some way. He is a channel, a mediator, through whom God's life flows into ours; but then he makes us also mediators, by whom his life shall flow to others. He is the image of God; but every true Christian is, again, the image of Christ. For what Christ did, and was, was no afterthought, no exception, but a part of the plan of the universe. He was "foreordained before the foundation of the world, but manifest in these last times." He was the "Lamb of God, slain from the foundation of the world." That is, his coming, his character, his death, his resurrection, his miracles, were all a part of a divine law. And all God's laws are the same "yesterday, to-day, and forever."

If this were not so, we could not understand Christ, nor sympathize with him. His life would be, not only supernatural, which it is, but unnatural, which it is not. His miracles would be, not what they truly are,—God's higher life flowing into nature, and the Spirit overcoming the material resistance of things,—but they would be magical; they would be like sorcery and enchantment—violations of the course of events.

All of Christ's life, then, is typical of our future lives, in this world or in some other world. It would be easy to prove this out of Scripture. Everything asserted of Christ is, somewhere and in some way, asserted also of his disciples, and of all Christians. Is he said to be one with God? "I and my Father are one." They also are said to be one with God: "That they all may be one, as we are one; I in them, and thou in me. As thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also may be one in us."

Was Christ said to know all things? It is also said of his disciples, "Ye have an unction from the Holy Ghost, and know all things."

Did Christ work miracles? He says to his disciples, "Greater works than these shall ye do?"

Did God give to Christ glory which he had before the world was? He himself says of his disciples, "The glory thou gavest me I have given them."

Did Christ rise from the dead into a higher life? We shall do the same. "As we have borne the image of the earthly, we shall also bear the image of the heavenly."

Christ, in his high and perfect life, may be regarded as a prophecy of what man is to become: we may look on him as a revelation of the higher laws of human nature, as a type of all humanity.

As regards his atoning death, his reconciling sufferings, the same thing is true. As he died for man, so must we die for each other. Thus says the apostle John: "Herein is love; not that we loved God, but that he loved us, and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins. Beloved, if God so loved us, we ought also to love one another." And again, "Because he laid down his life for us, we ought also to lay down our lives for the brethren."

And Paul, after having spoken of "Christ's having made peace by the blood of the cross," says of himself that he rejoices in his own sufferings for their sake—rejoices to "fill up that which is behind of the afflictions of Christ;" that is, make up any deficiency in Christ's sufferings for them. "Christ's sufferings," he says elsewhere, "abound in us," his disciples. "We are partakers of his sufferings," says the apostle Peter. If he thought Christ's sufferings entirely different in their nature and meaning from all other sufferings, he would scarcely have said that he "partook" of them.



12. This Law illustrated from History—in the Death of Socrates, Joan of Arc, Savonarola, and Abraham Lincoln.

The death of Jesus, therefore, manifested in a higher degree the same law which is illustrated in the deaths of all good and great souls, martyrs to a principle, or to an idea. In proportion to the greatness and universality of the idea, and the greatness and holiness of the martyr, is the impression profound. We will give a few instances of this from history, to see that the death of Jesus was not something wholly outside of law, wholly exceptional, but the highest example of the great effect produced by one who walks straight into death for a great idea.

The first instance we take shall be that of Socrates. When we think of Socrates, we think of his death. He, like Jesus, spent the time before his death conversing with his friends concerning the highest themes. He talked of immortality through the long summer day. He showed the superiority of the soul to the body in which it dwelt; and he had lost all fear of dying. He had silenced what Plato calls "the child within us, who trembles before death." In fact, the whole tone of his defence before the judges shows that he did not care to save his life. The verdict of guilty was pronounced by a majority of five or six, in a vote of five hundred and fifty-seven dicasts. He made no preparation for his defence, and said that a blameless life was the best defence. When he came to speak before those whose vote was to decide on his life or death, his speech seems a sort of confidential clearing of his breast of all his opinions. He declares he has been the greatest benefactor of Athens. He tells them they ought not to be offended at the resolute tone of his defence, since it would be unmanly for him to beg and plead for life; for his duty was to instruct them, but not to supplicate. It was strange that so small a majority was cast against him after such a speech. Then the custom required him to say himself what punishment he should suffer. His accuser had called for death. If he had named something less severe, as exile, fine, imprisonment, no doubt his life had been saved. Instead, he said, "I propose that I be rewarded as a public benefactor, by being supported at the public expense, as a teacher of the people. Still, as my friends wish me to name a fine, I will say thirty minae." They took this as an insult, and sentenced him to death. Then he spent his hours in those immortal conversations which will be remembered when all the rest of the glory and beauty of Greek literature and art has passed away. Every moment of his last hours has been carefully recorded; and the death of Socrates gave a power to his life, and his life an influence to his death, which placed him among the names which will never perish from human memory and gratitude.

There is another name, which comes out of the darkness and cruelty of the middle ages, with a sweet, serene, and noble beauty—a pure life glorified by a death of martyrdom. I mean that of Joan of Arc—the Maid of Orleans. On her trial, the readiness and beauty of her answers astonished her prejudiced judges. The poor girl, only nineteen years old, a prisoner in chains, before these doctors and lawyers, showed as much courage as on the field of battle.

They asked why she let the people kiss her feet and garments. She answered, "The poor people came to me because I did them no wrong, and helped them when I could." "Was it well to attack Paris on Our Lady's day?" "It is well to keep the festivals of Our Lady always." "Do your saints love the English?" "They love what God loves, and hate what he hates." "Does God hate the English?" "As to his love or hate for their souls I know nothing; but I know he will drive them from France." "Can you tell whether you will escape death?" "That I leave in God's hands." When she went to death, her purity and truth had so touched men's hearts that a great tide of remorse and pity began to swell up against her persecutors. A priest, who had played the part of Judas, and betrayed her, repented like Judas, and flung himself down before her, accusing himself of his treachery. The soldiers who stood by were melted. They said, "We have burned a saint." The executioner declared that God would never forgive him. From the day of her death, all men began to believe in her holiness and truth.

Come down to the end of the same century, and take another instance in Savonarola, the Florentine friar—the man who was at once the patriot, leading the minds of the people of Florence to republican institutions; the reformer, seeking to root out the abuses of the Church; and the prophetic teacher, preacher, religious inspirer. He also climbed to the height of his glory on his funeral pile. As Athens was glorified by the death of Socrates, as the Maid of Orleans has been a vision of beauty in the square of Rouen, so the place in Florence where Savonarola was murdered, in front of the Palazzo Vecchio, is memorable as the scene of virtue triumphing over its enemies and over evil, when it seemed to be conquered. That day, also, will never be forgotten, when he and his two companions walked through the furious rabble to their death, calm as if to a marriage feast. Savonarola was so absorbed in the thought of the life to come, says his biographer, that he appeared already to have left the earth. He was put to death by the order of Alexander Sixth, the worst pope and worst man of modern times; but in twenty years Rafaelle was painting the monk's portrait on the walls of the Vatican by order of another pope.

So it is that death glorifies life. If John Brown had escaped from his prison, and gone to Canada, what would have been his influence? He would only have been remembered as a crazy fanatic. But now there remains in all minds the picture of the old man going quietly and peacefully to die, kissing the little negro child on the way, looking up at the surrounding hills, and admiring the beauty of the scenery. Death set its seal on his life, and so his soul became the leader of the armies of the Union, going before them to victory.

And how much, also, was Abraham Lincoln glorified by his martyr death! How he rose at once into a great figure in history—a monumental form before which enmity was silenced! All men forgot their hostility, their criticisms, their sneers—forgot that they had ever done anything but honor him. The assassin, who thought to revenge the wrongs of the southern slaveholders on Lincoln, gave to him a lasting niche in the temple of fame.

Now, we are not by any means comparing the work of these persons with that of our great Master, Jesus Christ. Such is not our object. We are only pointing out the law by which a person who has devoted himself to a great cause, when he comes to die in its service, gives to that cause an immense help, and seems to sanctify and glorify the cause and himself. There is a mystery about it which we do not fully understand,—which is not accounted for by saying that death proves a man's sincerity, and makes him a more competent witness, or that death conciliates his enemies, and puts an end to personal dislike. No; there is something more than this. When men live for a cause outside of themselves, when they labor for public objects, they are not seen while they live. Those whose interests are interfered with by their action, misrepresent them, and surround them with a cloud of suspicion, jealousy, and slander. When they go to death for their cause, all these slanderous voices are hushed, and they emerge from this cloud of prejudice, and are seen as they are. They are glorified then in their cause, and their cause is glorified in them. The cause for which Socrates lived was the education of the people of Athens to truth and justice. All the Sophists were his enemies. Aristophanes ridiculed him as no other reformer has ever been ridiculed, holding him up, by his inimitable wit, to the scorn of the crowded theatre. When he died, and died in the faith, all this ended. Socrates and his great cause of justice rose at once, and drew all men to them. So Savonarola, who lived only with the purpose of helping on the triumph of pure religion in the Church, and pure liberty in the state, was mocked and abused in his life; but his death made him an undying power, and being dead, he spoke across the rapid years to Martin Luther and the reformers who came after. John Brown lived and died for universal freedom; Abraham Lincoln lived and died for the existence and deliverance of the nation. Of them, exactly as of Christ, we may say that when they died the hour came for them to be glorified. They died, and they rose again. The resurrection, in these instances, came close after the crucifixion; not seen in their cases, as is that of Jesus, by the visible eye, but essentially the same thing inwardly as his. They and their cause went up, instead of going down, by their death. When they were lifted up, they drew all men to them. In all such deaths, also, there is a certain atoning, reconciling influence. Death brings together, in harmony, conflicting interests; it silences hatreds, and breaks down many a partition wall of separation.(21)

The difference between Christ's death and all of these is, that Christ lived and died not merely for popular education, for patriotism, for philanthropy, but to be the power of God for the salvation of the world; to found a universal religion of love to God and man; to reveal God as a Father, not a King; to show man to man as brother. But the effect of his death, as in all these other cases, was simply to glorify his life and his cause. The same law worked in his case and in theirs, only on a higher plane, and for a vastly greater object.

We may observe that most of the passages concerning the effect of Christ's death are from the apostle Paul. They are written thirty years after that death by one who probably had never seen him, at least never knew him. But Paul had seen the actual effect of the death of Jesus on the minds and hearts of the people. It was a reconciling effect; it did away with their hatred to his religion, and enabled them to see it, and be led by it to God. It made "those who were afar off, nigh." It made peace between man and God,—between man and man. When Jesus died, men's eyes seemed at once to open, and they saw for the first time the beauty and holiness of his life. His death, therefore, did what his life had not done. We, misled by a false theology, imagine Paul to be speaking of some transcendental transaction in the spiritual world by which the death of Jesus acted on God's mind to make him placable; whereas, in truth, he is speaking of the simple historic fact that the death of Christ did draw men to his religion, and so to God; did, therefore, bring them to see God's forgiving love; did unite them with each other. So Paul says that he "is not ashamed of the cross of Christ,"—not ashamed of the fact that Christ was hanged as a malefactor, since that very death was the power of God to bring man to salvation. It made men just, and kind, and true, and so was the power of God.



13. Dr. Bushnell's View of the Atonement.

In his book, lately published, Dr. Bushnell teaches that the vicarious sacrifice of Jesus consists in his sympathy with sinners. He suffers with them and for them, as a friend suffers for a friend, or a mother for a child,—in the same way, and in no exceptional or uncommon way. He did not die officially, but naturally. He did not come here to die, but he died because he was here.

We are persuaded that this is the right view. We are sure that one day we shall all see that Christ's sufferings and death, and their influence, are as simple, as natural, as wholly in accordance with human nature, as that of any other saint or martyr; that the difference is of degree, not of kind; and Christ will go before the world, its great Redeemer and Leader, all the more certainly because one of us,—educated, as we are, by trial and sorrow; tempted as we are, but without sin; crying out, as we do, from the depths of our despair, "My God! why hast thou forsaken me?" and rising, as we do, through death to a higher life, through sorrow to a completer joy, through the pains of earth to the glories of heaven. "For it became him for whom are all things, and by whom are all things, in bringing many sons unto glory, to make the Captain of their salvation perfect through suffering; wherefore in all things it behooved him to be made like unto his brethren, that he might be a merciful High Priest; for in that he himself hath suffered, being tempted, he is able also to succor those who are tempted. For we have not a High Priest who cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities, BUT WAS IN ALL POINTS TEMPTED AS WE ARE, yet without sin; who can have compassion on the ignorant, as he also himself is compassed with infirmity, and though a Son, yet learned obedience by the things he suffered."



14. Results of this Discussion.

The Orthodox doctrine of the atonement contains a fact and a theory which ought to be carefully discriminated. The fact asserted by Orthodoxy is, that Jesus Christ has done something by means of which we obtain God's forgiveness for our sins. The theory attempts to explain what is the difficulty in the way of our forgiveness, and how Christ removes it. Thus Orthodoxy attempts to answer three questions: "What?" "Why?" and "How?" The first of these regards the fact. "What has Christ done?" And the answer is, that he has brought to man forgiveness of sin. The second and third questions regard the theory. "Why was it necessary for Christ to do and suffer what he did?" and, "How did he accomplish his work?"

Now, as concerns the matter of fact, Orthodoxy is in full accordance with the Scriptures, which everywhere teach that through Christ we have redemption, through his blood, even the forgiveness of our sins. But the Scriptures are perfectly silent concerning the theory. They do not tell us why it was necessary for Jesus to die, nor how his death procured forgiveness. The only exception is, as we have seen, in the statement, in the Epistle to the Hebrews, that the sufferings of Christ were necessary to make him perfect, and to enable him to be touched with a feeling of our infirmities.

Of the three theories which in turn have been regarded as Orthodox in the Church, two have completely broken down, and the third rests on such an insecure foundation that we may be very sure that it will follow the others as soon as any better one comes to take its place. The warlike theory and the legal theory of the atonement have gone to their place, and are no more believed by men. The governmental theory must soon follow.

Nevertheless, in each of these three theories there is one constant element. And it is due to Orthodoxy to state it. This element is, that the necessity of the death of Christ lay in the divine attribute of justice. According to the first theory, Christ died to satisfy what was due by God to the Devil; according to the second, he died to satisfy what was due by God to himself; according to the third, he died to satisfy what was due by God to the moral universe. Divine justice, in the first theory, owed a ransom to the Devil, which Christ paid; in the second, it owed a debt to the divine honor, which Christ paid; in the third, it owed protection to the universe from the danger of evil example.

The difficulty to be removed before God can forgive sin, lay, according to all of these theories, in the divine justice. Christ died to reconcile justice and mercy, so as to make justice merciful, and mercy just.

But, in opposition to this view, the Unitarian argument is so formidable as to seem quite unanswerable. On grounds of reason, the Unitarian maintains that there can be no such conflict among the divine attributes, waiting till an event should occur in human history by which they should be reconciled. That God's justice and mercy should have been in a state of antagonism down to A.M. 4034, when Jesus died, is an incredible supposition. No event taking place in time and space can be the condition sine qua non of divine perfection. And any struggle or conflict like that supposed implies imperfection.

Moreover, the Unitarian truly maintains that the Orthodox theory that men cannot be forgiven on the simple condition of repentance, is wholly unscriptural. The Scriptures plainly teach that forgiveness follows repentance. In the classic passage of the Old Testament (Ezek. 18:20-32), the Jews were taught, unequivocally, that the death which is the wages of sin, is always removed by the simple act of repentance. If the modern doctrine of Orthodoxy be true, that in order to be saved it is necessary not only to repent, but also to believe in the atoning sacrifice, the Jews were fatally misled by this teaching of the prophet.

And so in the New Testament, the parable of the prodigal son teaches us plainly that when we repent and return to God, we shall be received, and that without any reference to belief in the atonement.

Moreover, the Unitarians are fully justified in saying that the New Testament nowhere asserts that the primary and immediate influence of the death of Jesus is upon the divine attributes. In every instance Christ is said to reconcile us to God, never to reconcile God to us. (See Rom. 5:10, 11; 11:15. 2 Cor. 5:18, 19, 20. Eph. 2:13, 16. Coloss. 1:20, 21. 1 Peter 3:18.) It is we "who were afar off, and have been made nigh, by the blood of Christ." It is we, "who, when we were enemies, were reconciled to God by the death of his Son;" not God, who was afar off, who has been brought nigh to us; not God, who has been reconciled to us. It is "we, who have received the atonement." Christ has suffered for sins, "to bring us to God," not to bring God to us. All this is plain, positive, and unequivocal.

And yet, notwithstanding that the Old and New Testaments declare the forgiveness of sin to the penitent, we nevertheless find a difficulty in believing it. It seems as if God ought not to forgive us our sins on so simple a condition. And it is on this very feeling that the whole Orthodox theory of the atonement rests.

The explanation of this is, that man is obliged to understand God by himself. Since man was made in the image of God, he can know God only by understanding the moral and spiritual laws of his own soul. Now, in himself, he finds the constant antagonism of truth and love, justice and mercy, conscience and desire. From this essential original antagonism of truth and love spring all the moral conflicts which make cases of conscience. Whenever we see before us a divided duty, on being analyzed, it resolves itself into this conflict between truth and love. We naturally, and almost necessarily, transfer this same conflict to the mind of God. Whenever we wish to forgive an offender, but feel as if we ought not to do so, we teach ourselves to regard God as feeling the same difficulty. Conscience tells us that we are not fit to be forgiven, that it would be wrong for God to forgive us. Orthodoxy plants itself on this instinct, and elaborates its various theories, which men accept for a time as a sufficient explanation of their difficulty, and then reject when their inconsistencies appear. The deep-lying difficulty is the sense of our want of holiness, and the instinctive feeling of the eternal mutual repulsion of good and evil. Since God is good, and we are evil, how can he forgive us? If forgiveness merely meant the remitting of penalty, it might be done after sufficient expiation. If forgiveness meant laying aside of anger, we can well believe that God cannot retain wrath against his children. But forgiveness means communion, the mutual love of father and child, the being always in the presence of God. And for this, even after we have repented, and are endeavoring to do right, we do not feel ourselves qualified.

This is the real difficulty. Christ did not die to pay a debt to God, or to appease his wrath, but "to bring us to God," and to put the Spirit into our heart by which we can say, "Abba, Father!" The atonement is made to the divine justice—but not to distributive justice, which rewards and punishes, but to divine justice in its highest form, as holiness. And this consists in making us fit to appear before God, notwithstanding our sinfulness, because we have received a principle of holiness which will ultimately cast out all our sin. When we have faith in Christ, we have Christ formed within us, the hope of glory. God, looking on us, sees us not as we are now, but as we shall be when we are changed into that same image from glory to greater glory.

This suggests the theory which may replace the rest, and reconcile all those who believe in Christ as the Saviour and Redeemer of men. Christ saves us by pouring into us his own life, which is love. When Christian love is formed within us, it has killed the roots of sin in the soul, and fitted us to be forgiven, and to enter the presence of God.

In conclusion, we may say that Orthodoxy is right in maintaining that Jesus has by his sufferings and death brought forgiveness to mankind—not by propitiating God or appeasing his anger, not by paying our debt or removing a difficulty in the divine mind, but by helping us to see that the love of God is able to lift us out of our sin, and present us spotless in the presence of his glory with exceeding joy. The way in which his death produces this result is the sympathy with human sinfulness and sorrow, which finds in it its highest expression. Those whom men cannot forgive, and who cannot forgive themselves, see that God, speaking through the sufferings of Jesus, is able to forgive them. So the love of God brings them to repentance, and those who were afar off are made nigh by the blood of Christ.



CHAPTER XI. CALLING, ELECTION, AND REPROBATION.



1. Orthodox Doctrine.

The Assembly's Catechism, with its usual frankness, states this doctrine thus:—(chap. 3).

I. "God, from all eternity, did, by the most wise and holy counsel of his own will, freely and unchangeably ordain whatsoever cometh to pass, yet so that neither is God the author of sin, nor is violence offered to the will of the creatures, nor is the liberty or contingency of second causes taken away, but rather established.

II. "Although God knows whatsoever may or can come to pass upon all supposed conditions, yet hath he not decreed anything because he foresaw it as future, or as that which would come to pass upon such conditions.

III. "By the decree of God, for the manifestation of his glory, some men and angels are predestinated unto everlasting life, and others foreordained to everlasting death.

IV. "These angels and men, thus predestinated and foreordained, are particularly and unchangeably designed, and their number is so certain and definite, that it cannot be either increased or diminished.

V. "Those of mankind that are predestinated unto life, God, before the foundation of the world was laid, according to his eternal and immutable purpose, and the secret counsel and good pleasure of his will, hath chosen in Christ unto everlasting glory, out of his mere free grace and love, without any foresight of faith or good works, or perseverance in either of them, or any other thing in the creature, as conditions or causes moving him thereunto, and all to the praise of his glorious grace.

VI. "As God hath appointed the elect unto glory, so hath he, by the eternal and most free purpose of his will, foreordained all the means thereunto. Wherefore they who are elected, being fallen in Adam, are redeemed by Christ; are effectually called unto faith in Christ, by his Spirit working in due season; are justified, adopted, sanctified, and kept by his power through faith unto salvation. Neither are any other redeemed by Christ, effectually called, justified, adopted, sanctified, and saved, but the elect only.

VII. "The rest of mankind God was pleased, according to the unsearchable counsel of his own will, whereby he extendeth or withholdeth mercy as he pleaseth, for the glory of his sovereign power over his creatures, to pass by, and to ordain them to dishonor and wrath for their sin, to the praise of his glorious justice."

This statement is contained in the creed of more than three thousand churches in the United States. So far as it is believed by those who profess it, it conveys the idea of a God who is pure will—a God, in short, who does as he pleases, saving some of his creatures and damning others, without reason or justice. He does not reward virtue nor punish sin, but scatters the joys of heaven and the torments of hell out of a mere caprice, as an Eastern despot gives a man a purse of gold, or inflicts the bastinado, without reason, simply to gratify his sense of power. The essential character of such a Being is arbitrary will, and this creed of Calvinism places an infinite caprice on the throne of the universe, instead of the Being whom the Gospels call "Our Father."

Let us see how far this view of God is mitigated by modern explanations.

The Old School Presbyterianism, or Princeton Orthodoxy, accepts it in its entireness. They simply deny the consequences supposed to be drawn from it. They deny that it makes God the author of sin, or that sinful dispositions are created by God. They deny that this doctrine interferes with freedom of will in man. But they are obliged to admit that, according to their creed, God decrees things which he forbids; for, "inasmuch as many things occur contrary to his commands, while yet he foreordains all things, it must be that in these cases he purposes one thing and commands another."(22) In other words, God sends his prophets, and apostles, and Son, to command men to do justly and love mercy, when he has already determined that they shall commit sin. This school rejects the Arminian doctrine that God's decree is founded on his foreknowledge, and asserts that his foreknowledge is based on his decree.

The Old School in New England do not go quite so far as Princeton. They say, decidedly, that God foreordains sin only by permitting it. Still, they reject, as stoutly as their sterner confreres, the Arminian view, and insist that God's decrees are not based on his foreknowledge.(23)

According to Dr. Duffield, of Detroit, the New School Presbyterians escape the pinch of this conflict by taking refuge in their ignorance. They are not "Ultra-Calvinists," and they are not "Arminians," and especially they "do not wish to be wise above what is written."(24) Dr. D. asserts that the Old School makes the decree in election to be wholly arbitrary, while the New School believes that it has a reason, though one wholly unknown. But the Hopkinsians(25) say that "the sovereignty of God belongs to him as the Supreme Disposer, and consists in his perfect right and perfect ability to do us he pleases." Of course, having made the will of God wholly arbitrary, they proceed to deny that it is arbitrary, or that wilfulness in God can possibly be wilful. But all this is using "words of wind for the Almighty," and "accepting his person."

Methodism, on the contrary, denies that God foreordains whatsoever comes to pass, holding foreordination to be a causative act.(26) It also denies that man is guilty for inherited sin, or is any way responsible for his depraved nature. He only becomes responsible when he begins to act freely. He may suffer for inherited evil, but cannot justly be punished for it. Thus Methodism avoids the rude injustice of the Calvinistic system. And yet, as Schleiermacher has shown,(27) if it accepts total depravity, it must also consistently accept the Calvinistic doctrine of election. For if man is totally depraved, he cannot take a single step towards his own salvation. God must, in every case, take the initiative, and begin the conversion of each man who is converted. Therefore, if we ask why one man is converted, and another not, the only answer possible is this—that God chose to convert one, and not the other. Schleiermacher accepts and defends the doctrine of election, but by connecting it with that of universal restoration, which reduces it to the statement that God saves all, but in a certain order, which order is determined by himself, without regard to any foresight of merit or demerit in man.



2. Scripture Basis for this Doctrine.

The principal passages relied upon for the doctrine of absolute decrees are found in Rom. 8:30, and 9:8-24. In these passages, Paul is, no doubt, speaking of an unconditional election. In the first, he declares that the gift of Christianity to those who received it was no accident. God had known them long ago as individuals, known them before they were born, known the character they were to have. He had foreordained them to become Christians, to be made into the likeness of Christ. He had called them to be Christians by his providence; he had forgiven them their sins; he had glorified them, filling them with the glory of the new life of faith and love. In the other passage, Paul shows the Jews that God selects races and families, not according to any merit of theirs, but for reasons of his own, to do his work. Ishmael as well as Isaac was a child of Abraham, but Isaac was selected. Esau as well as Jacob was a child of Isaac, but Jacob was selected. It is no merit of the man which causes him to be chosen, no fault which causes him to be rejected, but that one is made for the work, and the other not. One is influenced to obey and serve; one is allowed to resist God's will; and yet both of them—he who obeys and he who resists—serve the divine purpose. The Jewish Christians, therefore, may believe that their nation, in resisting Christ, is blindly serving the providential designs of God, and making way for the Gentiles to come in; and then, the Gentiles, in turn, will help them to come in, "and so all Israel shall be saved." But in neither of these passages is any reference to final salvation or damnation. All that is spoken of is the predestined and divinely arranged order, the providential method, in which gifts are bestowed and opportunities offered. In fact, in Rom. 11:28, election is formally opposed to the gospel. As regards the GOSPEL, or the reception of Christianity, the Jews are enemies; that is, are left out of the circle of God's gifts, in order that the Gentiles may come in. But as regards the ELECTION, they are still the chosen people, inheriting all the qualities, powers, position, which their fathers had before them, since God never takes back his gifts.(28) So also in Ephesians 1:5, 11, Paul says that we, Christians, have been chosen in Christ before the foundation of the world, and predestined to be adopted as children, and obtained an inheritance in Christianity. But neither here is anything intended concerning final salvation. It all refers to their having received the gift of Christian faith, in the plan of God, by a wise providence of his, and not by accident. So also, in Timothy (2 Tim. 1:9), Paul says that God hath saved us out of the world, and called us to be Christians, not because of any merit of ours, but simply according to a gracious purpose which he always had, that the Gentiles should come into his kingdom with the Jews. In none of these passages is any final doom or destiny hereafter intended: all of them refer to the gift of Christianity in this world. The apostle softens the exultation of the Gentiles, and consoles the sorrow of the Jewish Christians, by telling them that the acceptance of the Gentiles and rejection of the majority of the Jews is part of a great plan of Providence, which will finally redound to the good of both.



3. Relation of the Divine Decree to Human Freedom.

In order that God shall be the Ruler of the world, and its providence, he must know the course of events, and determine them. In order that man shall be responsible, and a moral being, he must be free to choose, at every moment, between right and wrong, good and evil. In part of his nature and life, man is a creature of destiny; in part, he is the creator of destiny. Every man's character is the result of three factors—organization, education, and freedom. The character he has now has come to him, partly from the organization with which he was born, partly from the influences by which he has been educated, and partly from what he has done or omitted to do at every moment of his life. Now, the two first of these factors are out of his power. A man born in Africa, or descended from Chinese parents, cannot, by any choice or effort, become what a man born of French or German parents may become. A man born among the Turks or Arabs, and educated by the circumstances surrounding him there, must be a wholly different man from one born in New England. Man's freedom, therefore, may be likened to the power of the helmsman to direct a vessel. He cannot determine what sort of a vessel he shall be in, nor what sort of weather or currents shall come: all he can do at any moment is to steer it to the right or left. If, now, in steering, he guides himself by a compass turning to a fixed point, and by a chart giving the true position of continents and islands, then this power enables him, in spite of storms and calms, to take the vessel round the world, to the harbor he seeks. But if he has no chart and compass, but steers as he chooses from moment to moment, he goes nowhere. His vessel will then drift before the steady winds and constant currents. So is human freedom a great power when it guides itself by eternal truths and fixed laws. But if it does not, then it is not freedom, but only wilfulness, and it accomplishes nothing. Man's freedom is thus surrounded by divine providence. God determines the original organization of every human being; God determines the circumstances which educate him; and God has fixed the laws by which he must guide himself in order to become really free. He cannot therefore resist the divine will, except temporarily. He can postpone the time when God's kingdom shall come, and his will be done; but that is all.



4. History of the Doctrine of Election and Predestination.

Before Augustine, all the Greek and Latin Fathers of the Church taught the concurrence of free will and grace in human conversion. They taught that man must begin the work, and that God would aid him. God and man must work together.

Then came the controversy between Augustine and Pelagius. The latter, being at Rome, heard this sentence read from the writings of the former: "Da quod jubes, et jube quod vis"—Give what thou commandest, and command what thou willest. Pelagius objected to this formula. He said, "Since man ought to be without sin, he can be without sin." "There is," said he, "in man, a 'Can Do,' a 'Will Do,' and a 'Do.' " The first is from God; in the others God and man unite.

Augustine objected that God worked in us both to will and to do. He had first taught that God sends motives which we can obey or resist; but he saw that if God works in us to will, he must also conquer our resistance, and work the power by which we consent.

But to this Pelagius replied, "Then there is no freedom in man."

Augustine answered, "God does not move us as we move a stone, but rationally; he makes us will what is good, and does not force us against our will. He frees the will from its proclivity to evil, by 'preparing grace,' and determines it to good by 'effecting grace.' That some do not yield to this, is not because of their greater resistance, but because God does not choose to conquer their resistance."

This is the point where grace passes into predestination.

The Old Church had maintained that God predestined to life those whom he foresaw would repent and obey him. His foreknowledge did not cause this to happen, but he foreknew it because it would happen. It did not take place because he foresaw it, but he foresaw it because it would take place.

Election, according to the early Fathers, was nothing arbitrary. It depended on man to be saved or lost. So taught Justin Martyr, Origen, Basil, Hilary.

Basil said, "God hardened Pharaoh's heart by his judgments, which were sent to show how hard it was, because he saw he would not repent."

Origen adds, "Like a wise physician, God did not cure Pharaoh too soon, for fear of a relapse. He let him drink the cup of sin to the bottom in this life, so as to cure him more thoroughly hereafter."

Pelagius (and Augustine at first) took the same view. They said that God foresees and permits evil, and decrees the consequence of it.

Augustine said, "God has chosen some men in Christ, not because he foresaw they would be good, but because he determined to make them so." The reason of this choice, therefore, lay not in man, but in God's arbitrary will.

Pelagius said, "This is fatalism, under the name of grace, and is saying that God accepts the persons of men."

Augustine answered, "All men in Adam are in ruin. God saves some of them. If he let all die, we could not blame him: how much less for saving some!"

But why does he not save all? The answer is,—

Because the elect see in the fate of the non-elect what they have escaped, and God's justice is revealed with his goodness.

None of the elect perish, though they may die unbaptized, and be ever so bad in their lives; but they will be all converted before they die.

The non-elect may be often better men than the elect; but they will not be saved.

The only place where Augustine allows freedom is in Adam, who might have turned either way.

Semi-Pelagianism consists essentially in saying, "Man begins the work; God aids him."

Augustine's view was carried out afterwards thus: "If God does all, it is no use to preach, exhort, or read Scripture, or use any means of grace."

Augustine had said that reprobation was not a decree to sin, but to punishment.

But Gottschalk, his follower, said it was a decree to sin. The Church rejected this statement, and softened the doctrine. Thomas Aquinas revived it again.

Luther and Calvin both maintained that there is no good in man after the fall. Flacius said that original sin is the substance of human nature, and human nature now bears the image of the devil.

Luther made freedom of the will to consist in doing evil with pleasure, and not by constraint.

Calvin denied that there is any free will. "Why give it such a lofty title?" he said. He seemed to think that all the power left to men is so much taken from God.

When God says, "Do this and live," it is, says Luther, merely irony on his part, as though he had said, "See if you can do it! Try it."

Luther actually taught that God's will in revealed Scripture was, that all should be saved, but his real and secret will was, that not all should be saved.

Melancthon said, "Man has no power by himself to do right; but when grace is offered, he can receive it or reject it."

Calvin went beyond Augustine. He taught that,—

1. The decree of predestination was not merely a decree to punishment, but to sin. He rejects with scorn the distinction between permitting and causing, between foreknowledge and predestination. He says it is improper to have God's decree waiting on men's choice.

2. He taught that Adam's sin was decreed by God. The Infralapsarian taught that God foresaw that Adam would sin, and so decreed some men to life, and others to death. The Supralapsarian taught that God determined to reveal his majesty, and mercy, and justice. He created men, and made them miserable to show his mercy, and made them sinful to show his justice.

3. If men complain that God has so created them, Calvin answers, God has the same right that the potter has over the clay. If they complain that God has chosen some, and not others, to life, he replies, that so oxen, horses, and sheep might complain that they were not men.

4. God causes the sin which he forbids. This is not a contradiction in him, for his nature is different from ours.

God created all for his own glory, and sinners to glorify his justice.

Finally, Calvin himself admits that this is "a horrible decree."



5. Election is to Work and Opportunity here, not to Heaven hereafter. How Jacob was elected, and how the Jews were a Chosen People.

This reductio ad absurdum disproves the common idea of election. If a man were elected by God to heaven, and so could not help going to heaven, it would not be worth his while to give diligence to make his calling and election sure. It is sure already, without any diligence.

The common Orthodox idea of election is, therefore, a false one. God does not elect, or choose us, for passive enjoyment, but for active duty. He elects us to opportunities. He elects, or, as we may say, selects, us for certain special work, gives us certain special privileges, and holds us to an accountability for the use of them.

In the parable of the talents, God elected, or selected, one man to the possession of five talents, another to the possession of two, and another one. Each was elected; but each was elected to opportunities, and each to a different opportunity; but they all had to give diligence to make their calling and election sure.

The word "elect" was first applied to the Jews. They were an elect or chosen people. They were selected from among all nations for a great duty and opportunity. They were taught the unity of God and his holiness. They were a city set on a hill, a light shining in the darkness of the world, to proclaim these truths. That was their opportunity. It was not happiness, or heaven, or even goodness, that they were chosen for, but WORK. As long as they continued to do this work, they continued to be God's chosen or selected people. But when they hardened into the bigotry of Phariseeism, and froze into the scepticism of Sadduceeism, when they ceased to do the work, then they ceased to be the elect people. While they were diligent to make their election sure, they were the elect, but no longer.

God selected Jacob and rejected Esau. "Jacob have I loved, and Esau have I hated." But how did God love Jacob? He loved him by giving him opportunity. And why? Not because he was better than Esau, but because he was different. Jacob was selected to be father of the chosen people because he had the qualities required for his work. Esau was wild, reckless, martial. Jacob was industrious, money-making, fond of small trade; pastoral, rather than warlike; tenacious of his ideas even to obstinacy. These were the qualities required in a people who were so few that if they had been warlike they would have been swept from the earth. They never fought for the pleasure of fighting, but only when they could not help it, or when a political necessity compelled it. Though surrounded by nations much more powerful than themselves,—the Assyrians on the north-east at Nineveh, the Egyptians on the south-west, the Babylonians on the east, the Tyrians on the west, and the Greeks on the north-west,—they saw the fall of all these great nations and empires, but they continued. Many waves of war swept over their Syrian hills, and left them still there, peaceful, industrious, worshipping Jehovah in their sacred city, offering no motive for conquest, too poor to tempt invasion, too far from the sea to grow rich by commerce, like the Phoenicians. Their obscurity, poverty, and unheroic qualities were their salvation, and these they derived apparently from Jacob, their ancestor.

Thus we see that the Jews were a chosen people, and we see what they were chosen for, and also that they were chosen not because of superior virtue, but for superior capacity.



6. How other Nations were elected and called.

Other nations were chosen, too, for other purposes. The Greeks also were a chosen people—chosen to develop the idea of beauty, as the Jews that of religion. Their mission was beauty in art and in literature. It was no accident that they came as they did from confluent races, flowing together from India and Phoenicia, and settling in that sweet climate and romantic land, where the lovely AEgean, tossing its soft blue waters on the resounding shore, tempted them to navigation, and awakened their intellect by the sight of many lands. There they did their work. They made their calling and election sure. Greek architecture—one birth of beauty after another—was born. Athens was crowned with marvellous temples, whose exquisite proportions amaze and charm us to-day—inimitable creations of beauty. Homer came, and then epic poetry was born. AEschylus and tragedy came; Pindar and the lyric song; Theophrastus and pastoral music; Anacreon and the strain which bears his special name. And so Phidias and his companions created sculpture, Herodotus history, Demosthenes oratory, Plato and Aristotle philosophy, Zeuxis painting, and Pericles statesmanship. This was their election, and they made it sure.

The Romans also had their chosen work. They were elected to develop the idea of LAW. A prosaic people, but filled with notions of justice, they developed jurisprudence. To show that a nation can be governed not by despotic will, nor by popular will, but by law,—this was the office of Rome. As long as it did this work it prospered; when it ceased to do it, it fell. All other races, no doubt, have their special calling too. Some make it sure; others seem to fail of making it sure, and so disappear. Thus the election of the Jews shows a principle of God's government, and is not an exceptional case.

That which is true of nations and races is also true of religions and of Christian denominations. All Christians are a chosen people. They are chosen for the work of teaching to the human race the great doctrines of the fatherhood of God and the brotherhood of man. Other religions were sent to men too. Mohammed had his mission—to convert the idolatrous Arabs to Monotheism. The religions of Asia were intended to prepare the way for Christianity by teaching the elementary ideas of religion and morality.



7. How different Denominations are elected.

Every great denomination, and small ones, too, are chosen to unfold some one Christian idea. The Catholic Church was chosen to carry forward the great central idea of unity—one Lord, one faith, one baptism. But the Catholic Church is not catholic enough: it has turned itself into a sect by excluding those who could not accept all its statements and methods, though they accepted Christ. The Jewish Church committed the same mistake. When it became narrow, bigoted, exclusive, it left its first love; it then ceased to enlarge itself, and was obliged to disappear. The Jewish religion, and all positive religions, are like vases in which a plant is growing. While the plants are young, they hold them easily; but as the plants grow, the vases, incapable of expansion, are shivered by the enlarging roots. So that, unless the Roman Catholic Church can be liberalized and enlarged, it must break to pieces.

Whatever is said of Jews as the chosen and elect people is intended to show us a principle which must be applied to others. It is a principle very visible in their case, but not confined to them. It is the law of divine Providence. By what we see of its working in their case, we are able to see it in other cases, where it is less distinct and less apparent.



8. How Individuals are elected.

And now let us apply the doctrine of election to individuals. When one is elected he is always elected to some special opportunity, which he can improve or not, and for which he is held accountable.

When God sends into the world a great and original genius, like Columbus, Sir Isaac Newton, Dante, Shakespeare, Mozart, Michael Angelo, Franklin, Washington, Byron, Napoleon, it is very plain that they are sent, provided with certain qualities, to do a certain work. It is evident that God meant Columbus to discover America, and Dante to write a poem. If Columbus had tried to write the "Inferno," and Dante had devoted himself to inventing a steam-engine, if Franklin had written sonnets and pastorals, and Isaac Newton had gone into trade, if Washington had composed symphonies, and Beethoven had travelled to discover the source of the Nile, they would not have made their calling and election sure. But such men (with an occasional exception, like that of Napoleon and Byron) were all faithful to their own inspiration, and each chose to abide in the calling in which he was called; and so each did the work God gave him to do in the world. Napoleon and Byron did their work only partially, for they allowed their egotism to blind them, so as to lose sight of their mission after a while. God sent Napoleon to bind together and organize the institutions of a new time—to organize liberty. He did it for a season, and then sought, egotistically, only to build up himself and his dynasty; then his work came to a sudden end. For it is vanity and egotism which make us fail. We wish for some calling finer or nobler than the calling God gives us; so we come to nothing.

In these great and shining examples we are taught how God elects men, how he elects all men, and how he elects all to work. These are not the exceptional cases, as we are apt to suppose, but they are the illustrations of a universal rule.

Every human being has his own gift and opportunity from God; some after this fashion, and others after that. If faithful, he can see what it is. If his eye is single, his whole body is full of light. If he is true to the light within his soul, it grows more and more clear to him what God wants him to do. Not every man's business is to do great works in the world; but every one is sent to do something and to be something—something which shall bring him nearer to God—something which shall make him more useful to man. At first he is confused; he cannot tell what his calling is. But each day, if he be faithful to each day's call, causes the whole calling of his life to become more luminous and clear. So we see that conscientious and faithful people, as they continue to live, grow more and more into specialty of work, and have more and more of a special place and duty. Thus we see that all God's callings are special, and none vague or general. "Every man has his proper gift from the Lord; one after this fashion, and another after that." Perhaps it is not a shining gift, it will not make him famous, but it is always a good one—always useful and noble. If we follow God's leadings, we shall always come out right. "Let every man," says the apostle, "abide in the calling in which he is called." Let him not be impatient of his own gift, nor covetous of another's; let him not be uneasy in his place, nor straining for something beyond his reach. But if faithful every day to his own gift, he may be sure that it will grow at last into something truly good, satisfactory, and sufficient.