1. “The Reformers taught that assurance is of the essence of faith, and therefore that all believers have assurance. Luther and Melanchthon and Calvin taught this. It was taught also in the Augsburg Confession, and in the Heidelberg Catechism. It is not taught in any other of the Reformed confessions. This is now generally believed by Protestants to be an untenable position. There were two reasons which led the Reformers generally to take up this position—first, they were godly men themselves, constantly abounding in the work of the Lord, and God seems to have given them constant assurance of their salvation; second, they were contending with Romanists, who taught that no one could possibly know that he was a believer, without a special revelation from God, and they were naturally led to go to the opposite extreme, and to hold that no one could be a believer without knowing it. But almost all Protestants now agree that this position is an extreme and an untenable one, and that the doctrine taught in the Bible is that believers may be, and should be, assured of their salvation, but that persons may be believers without being assured of it.” [Note: W. J. Patton, Pardon and Assurance, 209.]
(1) The author of those words—an Irish Presbyterian—says further: Christians may have assurance, and ought to have assurance; but it is possible to be a Christian without having assurance. This is the doctrine of the Westminster Confession also. Except the Bible, there is nothing clearer on assurance than the 18th chapter of the Confession. It teaches that Christians “may, in this life, be certainly assured that they are in the state of grace”; and this certainty “is not a bare conjectural and probable persuasion, grounded upon a fallible hope, but an infallible assurance of faith”; yet that it “doth not so belong to the essence of faith, but that a true believer may wait long, and conflict with many difficulties, before he be partaker of it.” The words, “doth not so belong,” show that the Westminster divines considered faith and assurance to be very close to each other, though distinct.
The phrase in the Westminster Confession “infallible assurance” does not relate to the certainty of our faith or trust as to the truth of the object upon which the faith rests—that is, the Divine promise of salvation in Christ—but to the certainty of our hope or belief as to our own personal relation to Christ and eternal salvation. Hence it follows that while assurance, in some degree of it, does belong to the essence of all real faith in the sufficiency of Christ and the truth of the promises, it is not in any degree essential to a genuine faith that the believer should be persuaded of the truth of his own experience and the safety of his estate. Theologians consequently have distinguished between the assurance of faith (Heb_10:22)—that is, a strong faith as to the truth of Christ—and the assurance of hope (Heb_6:11)—that is, a certain persuasion that we are true believers, and therefore safe. This latter is also called the assurance of sense, because it rests upon the inward sense the soul has of the reality of its own spiritual experiences. The former is of the essence of faith, and terminates directly upon Christ and His promise; hence it is called the direct act of faith. The latter is not of the essence of faith, but is its fruit; and is called the reflex act of faith, because it is drawn as an inference from the experience of the graces of the Spirit which the soul discerns when it reflects upon its own consciousness. God says that whosoever believes is saved—that is the object of direct faith: I believe—that is the matter of conscious experience: therefore I am saved—that is the matter of inference and the essence of full assurance.
That this full assurance of our own gracious state is not of the essence of saving faith is proved—(1) From the form in which the offer of salvation in Christ—which is the object of saving faith—is set forth in the Scriptures: “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved”; “Whosoever will, let him take,” etc.; “Him that cometh to me, I will in no wise cast out.” Act_16:31; Rev_22:17; Joh_6:37. The matter revealed, and therefore the truth accepted by faith, is, not that God is reconciled to me in Christ, but that Christ is presented to me as the foundation of truth, and will save me if I do truly trust. It is evident that trust itself is something different from the certainty that we do trust, and that our trust is of the right kind. (2) All the promises of the Bible are made to classes—to believers, to saints, etc.—and not to individuals. (3) Paul appeared to doubt as to the genuineness of his faith long after he was a true believer. (4) As we saw above, the Bible contains many exhortations addressed to believers to go on to the grace of full assurance, as something beyond their present attainments. Heb_10:22; Heb_6:11; 2Pe_1:10. (5) The experience of the great body of God’s people in modern times proves the same thing. [Note: A. A. Hodge, A Commentary on the Confession of Faith, 245.]
This morning I went to call on M. Malan, without introduction, except that of many mutual acquaintances. I sat talking with him about two hours. The chief subject of discussion was that of assurance. He says that a Christian cannot be without assurance, except sinfully. This I agreed to, though not exactly on the same ground as that on which he puts it. The proof of adoption is a changed heart—2Co_5:17. If a man see this change in himself, it is a proof to him that he has believed, because the work of regeneration is begun—the work which God performs in the heart of all whom He has chosen, conforming them to the image of His Son—Rom_8:29. If he does not see this change, it is evidently because of the predominance of sin, and therefore the want of assurance springs from sin. But Malan makes it sin, not indirectly, but directly. His argument, simply stated, is this: Whosoever believeth that Jesus is the Christ is born of God. You acknowledge that. Is He the Christ? Have you any doubt? You are sure He is? or do you mean to say you do not believe that He is? But if you tell me you do believe that He is, how can you doubt your safety? Would you make God a liar? for He says that “every one who believes is born of God.” I do not think this satisfactory, because I believe many who never will be saved are convinced of it, and so in a certain sense believe it, as the devils do who tremble, or as Simon did—Act_8:13—who was yet in the bond of iniquity. And it is this possibility which can make a Christian doubt his own state even when he says, I believe. Still I admit that want of assurance is the mark of very low attainments in grace; because if sanctification were so bright as to be visible, there would be no doubt. [Note: Life and Letters of the Rev F. W. Robertson, 60.]
(2) Take the Methodist position. There were many tragedies in the lives of Wesley’s sisters, but with nearly all of them a strange peace lay on their dying beds. As an example, John Wesley’s account of the last moments of Patty, perhaps not the cleverest, but certainly the gayest, and perhaps the most ill-fated, of the Epworth girls, may be recalled. She died with a triumphant whisper on her lips: “I have the assurance I have so long wanted. Shout!”
In his earlier days Wesley believed that such a conscious assurance was essential to salvation, but later he attained to a truer view—“When, fifty years ago, my brother Charles and I, in the simplicity of our hearts, taught the people that unless they knew their sins were forgiven they were under the wrath and curse of God, I marvel they did not stone us. The Methodists, I hope, know better now. We preach assurance, as we always did, as a common privilege of the children of God, but we do not enforce it under pain of damnation denounced on all who enjoy it not.”
There is no doubt Mrs. Wesley was puzzled. There was something infinitely perplexing to her in her sons’ assurance: they were moving with every - day familiarity amongst those mysteries which all her life she had desired, yet feared, to look into. “For my part,” she had written a few years before to her son John, “after many years’ search and inquiry, I still continue to pay my Devotions to an Unknown God—I cannot know Him. I dare not say I. Love Him—only this, I have chose Him for my only Happiness, my All, my only Good, in a Word, for my God—And when I sound my Will, I feel it adheres to its choice—tho’ not so faithfully as it ought; therefore I desire your Prayers, which I need much more than you do mine.” [Note: M. R. Brailsford, Susanna Wesley, 115.]
(3) Take the Baptist position. Dr. B. H. Carroll asks: Is assurance necessary to being a Christian at all? Is it such an essential element of saving faith that where it is lacking there is no saving faith? Or, if you prefer it, is assurance such an instantaneous and continuous effect of saving faith that the one can never be, even for a moment, without the other? So that where there is no such assurance you may positively know there is no faith.
He answers: “Such assurance is not Baptist doctrine. This is a question of fact to be settled by the evidence of history. And I am perfectly confident when you consider the evidence you will join me in saying that anything akin to this theory of assurance is a vital and fundamental innovation on Baptist doctrine: This infallible assurance doth not so belong to the essence of faith but that a true believer may wait long, and conflict with many difficulties, before he be a partaker of it; yet, being enabled by the Spirit to know the things which are freely given him of God, He may, without extraordinary revelation in the right use of means, attain thereunto; and therefore it is the duty of every one to give all diligence to make their calling and election sure, that thereby his heart may be enlarged in peace and joy in the Holy Spirit, in love and thankfulness to God, and in strength and cheerfulness in the duties of obedience in the proper fruits of this assurance.’ ” [Note: B. H. Carroll, Sermons, 239.]
2. There are three cautions to be given here.
(1) Men should not indulge in boasts of their religious assurance. False lives have no right, saintly lives have no need, and in ordinary lives it is out of place.
Do I speak to you as one who has fully entered into this great inheritance? Nay, I am making no such claim. Often I am timid and despondent and more anxious than I ought to be; often small things vex me, and the judgment of men irks me, and I am afraid of losses and reverses; the whole trouble is that I am not nearly so sure of God as I ought to be. I am not standing on some eminence above you and calling down to you. I am standing with you, on the common plane of our humanity, but I am lifting my eyes to the hills from which our help must come, and trying to get you to look in the same direction. I have not yet attained, but I know, as well as I can know anything, that the life I am talking about is the right kind of life; that it would be worth to me more than everything else that I ever wish and strive for to be perfectly sure of God and to live, without flinching, right up to that assurance. I know that if that knowledge were in my heart all things would be mine,—the world, life, death, things present, things to come. I should never be a coward, I should never shrink from any sacrifice to which the truth summoned me. I should hold the prizes of pelf and praise for which men are wearing out their lives very cheap. I should not be bartering honor and integrity to get some little selfish advantage, and I should be as happy every day as the day is long. No; perhaps I could not be quite happy if those whom I loved were unhappy; I should have to carry their burdens, to take upon my own soul something of their sorrow. But I should be able, so it seems to me, to help them far more than I help them now; to lead them, if they really loved me, out into the light of God. [Note: W. Gladden, Where does the Sky Begin? 331.]
(2) No one should claim certainty on any subject if he does not possess it. The biographer of Cardinal Manning says: “As an accepted teacher in religion, the habit had grown upon him of speaking always on all points of faith with an absolute assurance of certitude. In a letter to Robert Wilberforce of this date, Manning confesses that ‘people are rising up all over the country and appealing to me to solve doubts and difficulties which, as you know, perplex my own mind. But if I leave their appeals unanswered, they will think that I am as they are.’ For him, a spiritual teacher, in whom his penitents put their trust, to whom they come for counsel and guidance, to confess to his doubts would give scandal and do grave harm. Hence it came to pass that he had to speak, considering it under the circumstances his duty to do so, with a double voice.” [Note: The Life of Cardinal Manning, i. 464.]
This arrogance is as unseemly as it is baseless. If the subject did not forbid it, yet the sense of imperfection ought to restrain a frail, fallible, erring human being from such presumption; presumption, too, which is commonly strong in proportion as the doctrine is dark and doubtful, and the mind is readier to decide than to examine. Such indeed was not the spirit of Newton, “child-like sage.” Such was not the spirit of Socrates, who, against the all-knowing sophists of his day, was accustomed to say that he professed to know nothing; that he was only a seeker after knowledge. Such, in fine, has never been the spirit of deep study and patient thought. But assurance rises up to speak, where modesty is silent; and a rash judgment to pronounce, where patient inquiry hesitates; and ignorance to say “I know,” where real knowledge can only say, “I believe.” [Note: O. Dewey, Works, 361.]
(3) Let not the assurance of salvation be the occasion for indolence or indifference to the call of the battle of life. Browning shows, from the experience of his own time, how religious certainty may stunt the soul’s growth. For he finds that many of those who have received Christianity, who have “found, and known and named” it, recognizing its beauty and its value, nevertheless live less worthy lives than the great men who died before it came. The Archbishop of Florence, that dignitary of the Church who refused to help Pompilia in her need, and “the Monastery called of Convertites,”which attempted to dishonour her memory and plunder her child, ill bear comparison with the old pagan poet Euripides, who in that “tenebrific time, five hundred years ere Paul spoke, Felix heard,” found reason for so much of temperance and righteousness, and attained so nearly to guess at what Paul knew. He passed before the coming of the sunrise, which, joining truth to truth, “shoots life and substance into death and void,” yet though the skies were dark above him, he found a better path, and followed it more faithfully than many high-placed Christians, who “miss the plain way in the blaze of noon.” It is the too easy assurance with which Christianity is accepted that enervates the moral fibre of its adherents. They have no longer any battles to fight, any Nero to brave, any doubts to overcome, and therefore they sink into a state of moral lethargy. There is no longer any fear of “sudden Roman faces, violent hands,” such as set up a barrier to St. John; the days have passed when “imminent was the outcry, Save our Christ”; nor has the critic yet begun to ask, “Was John at all, and did he say he saw?”
Is it not this ignoble confidence,
Cowardly hardihood, that dulls and damps,
Makes the old heroism impossible?
After this condemnation of his own time, the Pope sees, as it were in a vision, that the mission of the coming age will be
To shake
This torpor of assurance from our creed,
Reintroduce the doubt discarded, bring
That formidable danger back, we drove
Long ago to the distance and the dark,
till doubt once more awakes the sleeping soul, rouses it to renewed activity,
And man stand out again, pale, resolute,
Prepared to die, which means, alive at last. [Note: A. C. Pigon, Robert Browning as a Religious Teacher, 84.]
I have often thought that the Christian life of many ministers has been too easy. Born and bred, taught and trained in a Christian home, they have gently and slowly grown in the knowledge and the grace of Christ, and have endured no terrible moral conflicts nor passed through any severe spiritual crises; consequently there is a wide range of the Christian salvation beyond their own experience. Only by greater intensity in their Christian living, and wider sympathy with other lives more sternly tested, can they transcend this disadvantageous limitation. For surely only he who has himself realized that the only help and hope of men perishing is in the cross of Christ can preach with such force and fervour as to arouse others to their danger and need, and to call forth their faith in Him who “is able to save to the uttermost all who come unto God by him.” To be genuinely evangelical our message must be intensely experimental. [Note: A. E. Garvie, The Gospel for ToDay, 41.]
