1. Improve your biblical word power 1: Righteousness
2. Improve your biblical word power 2: Forensic righteousness
3. Improve your biblical word power 3: Justification
4. Improve your biblical word power 4: Atonement
5. Using your biblical word power: Justification through Atonement
6. Improve your theological word power: Imputation
7. Is Anyone Righteous?

Introduction: A Protestant Reformer?

For a comfortable theoretician to assess the actions of a man caught up in the cut and thrust of national and international politics is a precarious business, as Martin Bucer warned when, in 1537, the humanist Grynaeus lamented Thomas Cranmer’s slowness to bring about reform in England.¹ To understand Cranmer’s actions we must transcend stereotypical surface judgments, for he was a man living in a complex and often dangerous world, with an equally complex and dangerous king. To assess whether Cranmer was a Protestant reformer we need to carefully investigate three questions. Firstly, did Cranmer have personal Protestant theological convictions? Secondly, did Cranmer actively seek to promote these convictions by his public policy? And thirdly, did Cranmer have a measurable effect in his efforts to promote his convictions? These questions cannot be considered in isolation, but must be answered against the political backdrop of Henrician England.

The ‘Orthodoxy’ of Henry VIII

Bromiley assesses Henry as ‘fundamentally a traditionalist’.² Yet to describe Henry as ‘orthodox’ is a gross oversimplification. Undoubtedly, his ‘instinctive’ conservatism often triumphed.³ This is most clearly demonstrated by his early anti-Lutheran Defence of the Seven Sacraments (1521), where he defends, for example, the Pope’s universal supremacy and the priestly jurisdiction in confession.⁴ Yet during the rest of his reign Henry rejected significant aspects of this position. Not only does he completely repudiate Papal supremacy, but he also moves away from other fundamental aspects of Catholic doctrine. A notable example is the absence of any reference to the divine institution of auricular confession to priests in the Six Articles of 1539, which severely weakens the Catholic doctrine of priestly jurisdiction regardless of one’s view of Papal authority.⁵

A more accurate assessment is that Henry allowed his political strategy to take precedence over all other doctrines. As Null observes, ‘For Henry, obedience was the chief theological virtue [. . .]’; a prerequisite for salvation.⁶ His courtly strategy of ‘divide and conquer’ meant that his theological strategy, as Cranmer once observed to Capito, was to play two competing groups off one another and then pronounce his own judgment.⁷ This ‘judgment’ was largely determined by political factors. Henry desired that no one group gained too much power: in July 1540 he simultaneously executed three alleged Papalists and three Lutherans.⁸ Furthermore, Henry was influenced by foreign and domestic issues: for example, the conservative Act of Six Articles coincided with Henry’s need to placate the newly allied Catholic forces of France and Spain.⁹ This assessment of England’s monarch is important for our understanding of Cranmer’s actions, since working for a king like Henry was a complex and often bewildering game.

Cranmer’s Personal Religious Convictions

To assess Cranmer’s personal convictions is not a straightforward task. His surviving correspondence is almost entirely official rather than personal.¹⁰ Furthermore, the strong government controls and inhibitions which applied to these documents must be taken into consideration.¹¹ Hence historians have come to differing conclusions about Cranmer’s beliefs, particularly early in his career. The most vexing question concerns Cranmer’s theological ‘touchstone’: which doctrine, if any, exercised the central and controlling influence over all of Cranmer’s beliefs and actions?

For some, Cranmer’s central belief was the authority of Scripture according to its ancient interpretation, but it took a long time for this cautious scholar to come to any firm conclusions on the basis of his Scriptural exegesis. Having been influenced by Erasmian humanism at his early years at Cambridge, Cranmer gave Scripture normative priority for all of his adult life.¹² Bromiley maintains that this committed Cranmer to caution in deciding matters of doctrine, to the extent that Bromiley is unsure of Cranmer’s convictions even in 1536.¹³ Brownell suggests that this caution allowed Cranmer great leeway in his political compromises.¹⁴ Yet it is difficult to believe that a man so passionately committed to the Scriptural basis for Henry’s annulment,¹⁵ who also broke his vow of celibacy by marrying Osiander’s niece as early as 1531,¹⁶ would be so unsure of his commitment to more weighty matters.

Others posit the Royal Supremacy as the controlling element of Cranmer’s belief. Certainly, Cranmer had a very high (‘Erastian’) view of the status of the King in directing his subjects’ affairs, both spiritual and temporal. In 1540, Cranmer replies to a doctrinal commission,

‘All Christian princes have committed unto them immediately of God the whole cure of their subjects, as well concerning the administration of God’s word for the cure of souls, as concerning the ministration of things political and civil governance’.¹⁷

Furthermore, at Edward’s coronation in 1547, Cranmer calls him the New ‘Josiah’ and ‘Christ’s vicar’, using the language of both Old Testament theocracy and the claims of the Roman Pontiff.¹⁸ This has led some to label Cranmer as an ‘extremist’ in his Erastianism: God’s temporal and spiritual law does not stand outside the prince but is determined through the prince.¹⁹ Cranmer effectively places the King in the power vacuum left by the Pope.²⁰ So, according to Ridley, his obedience to the Prince overrode all his other beliefs.²¹

A number of things can be said in reply. Firstly, we must understand Cranmer’s comments in context. In the answer quoted above, princely rule is set in the context of the Spirit-led wisdom of God’s people and is portrayed merely as a more complete form of God’s guidance of the early Church.²² His rhetorical language at Edward’s coronation is an exposition the Pauline view of authority in Romans 13.²³ Hence Cranmer is not replacing the Pope with the King; he is expounding a Scriptural basis for the wise governance of God’s people. Thirdly, ‘absolute obedience’ to a monarch who, as we have seen, is constantly shifting his doctrinal ground would have been an impossible cause to champion; there would be no consistency or conscience in anything Cranmer did were he to make the Royal Supremacy his core belief. Even Rafferty, who believes that Royal Supremacy is Cranmer’s controlling doctrine, has to question Cranmer’s consistency.²⁴ It is better, with MacCulloch, to regard Cranmer’s view of the Royal Supremacy as God’s provision of a means to an end, rather than an altar on which all else is sacrificed.²⁵

A means to what end? Null persuasively argues that, from the time of Cranmer’s contact with the German reformers just prior to 1533, his central and determining doctrine is sola fide: Justification by Faith Alone.²⁶ The early and ongoing influence of the continental reformers on Cranmer, particularly Bucer and Bullinger, is meticulously documented and well-defended by MacCulloch’s biography.²⁷ Null and Hall also defend this influence, Null with detailed exegesis of the documentation.²⁸ Hall, however, splits hairs when he contends that Cranmer mediated Luther’s doctrine so that the fruits of justification were more prominent and the forensic element of justification less prominent.²⁹ Cranmer, like Luther and very much in opposition to medieval scholasticism, believed that while both forensic justification and good works are important, nevertheless the former is always the basis of the latter.³⁰

The centrality of the justification of the totally depraved sinner solely on the basis of the mercy of God through faith and not by anything intrinsic to the sinner, Null argues, has explanatory power for almost all of Cranmer’s other beliefs and actions. His personal forgiveness of enemies despite his official sternness is a simple example.³¹ More significantly, solifidianism led inevitably to an understanding of God’s complete sovereignty, both in personal predestination and in the course of human history. Cranmer believed that in God’s loving grace he has so directed the course of human affairs that Henry VIII is God’s elect ruler. Despite the faults of Henry (and his vice-gerent Cromwell), God’s loving plan triumphs.³² Hence the Royal Supremacy is determined, controlled and ultimately subservient to sola fide. Cranmer’s ‘strategy’ was to contend for the gospel, obey the king and trust God for the outcome. We will explore the implications of this below when we consider Cranmer’s public policy.

Like Luther, the main area in which Cranmer disagreed with the Southern Continental Reformers was his doctrine of the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist.³³ Cranmer himself admitted that he changed from belief in ‘real presence’ to ‘spiritual presence’ in 1547 or 1548.³⁴ It was once argued that his pre-1547 view was essentially conservative Catholic.³⁵ However, most scholars now agree that Cranmer’s acceptance of Luther’s view on salvation also involved agreement (perhaps independently) with Luther’s view of the Eucharist; he rejected transubstantiation and the sacrificial aspect but retained the real presence throughout his Archbishopric under Henry.³⁶ This will be important when we come to consider Cranmer’s treatment of Frith and Lambert. Sola fide was behind Cranmer’s rejection of the mass as a sacrifice; since Christ’s sacrifice was once-for-all.³⁷

Cranmer’s Public Policy as Archbishop

We have seen that Cranmer’s personal solifidian beliefs were essentially ‘Protestant’ (or ‘evangelical’, to use MacCulloch’s less anachronistic term) throughout 1533–1549, even if his Eucharistic views were Lutheran rather than strictly ‘Reformed’. Now we come to consider Cranmer’s public policy.

General considerations

When we set the boundaries for what constitutes ‘public policy’, we must remember that Cranmer was a theologian, a scholar and an archbishop. Although his actions were inevitably political, Cranmer was not a politician, either by temperament or by appointment.³⁸ Elliott is unfair when he characterises Cranmer’s willingness to correct Henry in private but not in public as ‘weakness’ or the ‘inability to act consistently’.³⁹ Private correction was Cranmer’s mandate; public correction was not. Hence Cranmer’s public policy as Archbishop include all of his actions undertaken in his official capacity which affected the English public, whether or not these actions were immediately open to public view.

In 1533–34, we see Cranmer working hard to place evangelicals in positions of influence in England. For example, he removed the conservative Warham as Archdeacon of Canterbury, and moved to have Latimer and Shaxton appointed to preach before the King and Queen.⁴⁰ However, from 1535 to 1539, Thomas Cromwell had effective control over the spiritual jurisdiction in England, eclipsing Cranmer’s jurisdiction and even seizing some of his lands.⁴¹ Hence, during Cromwell’s ascendancy, Cranmer’s public policy was mostly limited to his attempts to persuade Cromwell and Henry through copious correspondence,⁴² and to persuade convocation through debate. Between 1540 and 1547, Cromwell was no longer alive but Henry himself was more conservative-leaning and so Cranmer was even less free to act independently. It is only when Edward succeeded the throne that Cranmer was given direct responsibility to enact policy.

Reforming Public Activities

We will briefly survey some areas where Cranmer acted to reform the church in his official capacity as Archbishop.

Cranmer strenuously advocated for Lutheran doctrine in the Convocation debating the Ten Articles of 1536. ⁴³ His influence and style is clearly present; the document is a compromise between the old and the new, yet in it, Cranmer achieved a great deal for the evangelical cause.⁴⁴ The Bible and only the first four ecumenical councils (i.e. those accepted by Luther) are fundamental for all doctrine.⁴⁵ Penance, while necessary for salvation, is defined almost exclusively in terms of justification by faith (realisation of sin and the recognition that we have no works of our own which can satisfy God).⁴⁶ Works are ‘necessary’ only as fruit of justification, not as a prerequisite for justification.⁴⁷ The final articles, concerning images, saints, etc. are not commanded by God as necessary for salvation, but rather are commanded by the king as necessary for peaceful order in his realm.⁴⁸ These activities are permitted, but ultimately superfluous to Christ-centred trust and obedience.⁴⁹

The Bishop’s Book of 1537 represents an even greater achievement for Cranmer in his policy of debate and persuasion. By convincing Cromwell of the political benefits inherent in achieving closer doctrinal ties with German Lutheran princes,⁵⁰ and by strenuous argumentation in synod (which he ended up effectively chairing), he achieved a document ‘full of Lutheran overtones’, particularly in its solifidian redefinition of penance based on Patristic sources.⁵¹ Cranmer was pleased with the outcome, and the Bishop’s Book, while never really receiving Henry’s approval, was issued as a book of sermons (‘proto-Homilies’).⁵² When Henry did comment, Cranmer’s private corrections bear witness to his anti-scholastic solifidianism.⁵³

‘For after our justification only begin we to work as the law of God requireth [. . .] they that think they may come to justification by performance of the law, by their own deeds and merits, or by any other mean than is above rehearsed [i.e. by faith alone], they go from Christ, they renounce his grace’.⁵⁴

This is private correction, unimpeded by the need for public compromise; yet its intention is change in public policy, for its addressee is the King himself.

It is also important to consider Cranmer’s role in the dissemination of the English Bible. Technically, ‘it was the Vice-gerent who led the initiative, with Cranmer merely as cheerleader’.⁵⁵ Yet this ‘cheerleading’ was, most likely, the key to the success of the enterprise. We have seen Cranmer’s commitment to Scriptural authority. He saw the need for the whole populace to have access to this authority and so was the relentless persuasive force behind Cromwell’s actions.⁵⁶ His delight at the achievement, in 1537, bears witness to his interest in the matter.⁵⁷ The Bible was such a success that the conservative Act of Six Articles (1539) did not immediately change Henry’s mind on its dissemination.⁵⁸ Cranmer’s 1540 Preface to the Great Bible shows his persistent commitment to its propagation.⁵⁹ At a dangerous time for evangelical belief, Cranmer does not push his doctrine directly. Rather, he urges people to read the Bible, trusting God for the outcome. His caution against overly contentious arguments is not the germ of the classic Anglican via media,⁶⁰ but rather Cranmer’s attempt to forestall Henry’s wrath which might prevent the Bible being disseminated any further.⁶¹

When Henry’s policy turned in a more conservative direction with the Act of Six Articles (1539), Cranmer’s ability to influence public policy was severely curtailed.⁶² Nevertheless, he did what he could. His ‘hard-core opposition’⁶³ meant that the word transubstantiation did not appear in the Six Articles, and auricular confession was weakened in its import, as we have already noted.⁶⁴ In 1541–43 he won some minor victories against holy days, shrines and relics, and against plans to re-introduce medieval terminology into the English Bible.⁶⁵ He kept copious notes on solifidianism in Scripture and the Church Fathers, preparing for opportunities to refute the conservative doctrine of the King’s Book.⁶⁶ In 1544 he released an English translation of the Litany, using ‘more than the liberty of a translator’ in improving certain aspects of it.⁶⁷ During this period, he was active, yet restrained.

Disputed Public Activities

We now turn to those of Cranmer’s activities which have come under intense scrutiny and criticism because of their perceived hypocrisy, inconsistency or cowardice.

Often Cranmer is accused of legal inconsistency. At his consecration in Westminster in 1533, his oath of loyalty to the Pope was straightaway followed by a solemn protestation that this oath would not override his loyalty to the law of God, the King, and the reform of the English Church. Rafferty points out the legal contradictions here; both he and MacCulloch accuse Cranmer of hypocrisy.⁶⁸ They detect a similar inconsistency in Cranmer’s later annulment of the Boleyn marriage.⁶⁹ Yet, against the backdrop of an age when the King’s momentary will was usually more pertinent than the written oaths and laws, these oaths and laws themselves being fluid, transitory and inconsistent, Cranmer’s ‘hypocrisy’ was technical only. He argued solidly and vigorously for his position so that everybody knew where he stood; and then when it was obvious that he could do no more, he obeyed his King.⁷⁰ This is consistent with his belief that the purposes of the sovereign God would prevail and his job was to ‘Fear God [and] Honour the King’ (1 Peter 2:16, kjv).

There are times when Cranmer takes action as Archbishop against people with whom he has some sympathy. Two notable examples are John Frith (1533) and John Lambert (1538).⁷¹ In both cases, evangelical men were brought before Cranmer to pronounce a verdict (although the sentencing was done by others). Their crime was sacramentarianism: denying the real presence in the Eucharist. Since, as we have seen, Cranmer disagreed with this particular view, he pronounced them guilty.⁷² Cranmer’s sympathy to Frith is seen in a letter describing his repeated attempts to persuade him to change his beliefs, avoiding the term ‘heretic’ and giving the Continental originator of the belief his Latinized academic surname ‘Œcolampadius’, thus ‘recognizing his status as an evangelical fellow-scholar’.⁷³ Yet he had no qualms about committing either Frith or Lambert to trial, no doubt fearing that their ‘so notably erroneous’ views would endanger the evangelical cause in England.⁷⁴ In neither case is Cranmer hypocritical; in fact, in Lambert’s case, he assiduously avoided the term ‘transubstantiation’ while arguing for a real presence.⁷⁵

The executions of Anne Boleyn (1536) and Thomas Cromwell (1540) were more personally difficult for Cranmer. Anne was an ally for the evangelical cause and Cranmer’s personal friend;⁷⁶ Cromwell, as we have seen, was an important agent for reform and also a friend. In both cases, Cranmer did not instigate the accusation of Treason and could not have prevented their deaths.⁷⁷ In both cases, shocked by learning of the accusations against them, he wrote letters to Henry defending their integrity.⁷⁸ And in both cases, he escaped without being implicated in their crimes, despite his obvious personal anguish at their deaths.⁷⁹ Here, his inaction rather than his action is more frequently criticised.⁸⁰ Yet he is also frequently defended for his courage.⁸¹ Moreover, Cranmer is implicated in the persecutions of evangelicals following the passing of the Act of Six Articles. The political background to Henry’s reversal of policy is the threat of a conservative invasion from the newly-allied France and Spain, and the conservative backlash within England itself.⁸² Cranmer, in obedience to his King, voted for and enforced the Six Articles.⁸³ He also voted for the subsequent bill of attainder that declared the evangelicals Barnes, Garrett and Jerome heretics.

In all these events, was Cranmer culpably compromised?⁸⁴ Should he have offered himself for martyrdom?⁸⁵ In accordance with our earlier assessment of Cranmer’s doctrine, we may conclude that Cranmer saw the cause of evangelical doctrine as greater than the deaths of individuals. This is not because he was a heartless ideologue, but because, with Scripture and the Church Fathers, he believed in a glorious afterlife such that martyrdom was not a final blow for God’s elect. Cranmer may well have been prepared to die; but he saw that he had God’s work to do in England and he was not going to needlessly remove himself from that task. Fear, confusion, naivety and indecision may all have played their part, but it was Cranmer’s solifidianism and its corollaries that played the determining role in his public policy.

Conclusion: An Effective Protestant Reformer

The enthronement of Edward VI (1547) marked the culmination of Cranmer’s work and the temporary vindication of his trust in God’s sovereignty over history. His Book of Homilies were based on the strong solifidian doctrine developed during Henry’s reign and foreshadowed in the Bishop’s Book.⁸⁶ His prior forging of strong evangelical links both at home and abroad enabled Cranmer to put Protestant teachers such as Ridley, Latimer, Bucer, Fagius and others in positions of authority and influence in England.⁸⁷ His long-term advocacy for the English Bible had paved the way for lay education in Christian doctrine, of which the Book of Common Prayer (1549) was the next logical step. Cranmer was truly a Protestant Reformer, in belief and in action, even though he was not a politician and many of his endeavours took years to bear fruit in the political arena.

Bibliography

Ayris, Paul. ‘God’s Vicegerent and Christ’s Vicar: the Relationship Between the Crown and the Archbishopric of Canterbury, 1533–53’. Pages 115–56 in Thomas Cranmer: Churchman and Scholar. Edited by Paul Ayris & David Selwyn. Woodbridge: Boydell, 1993

Bromiley, G. W. Thomas Cranmer: Archbishop and Martyr. London: The Church Book Room Press, 1956.

Brooks, Peter N. ‘Cranmer from His Correspondence’. The Expository Times 101/1 (1989): 8–12.

Brownell, Kenneth. ‘Thomas Cranmer: Compromiser or Strategist?’. Pages 1–16 in The Reformation of Worship: Papers Read at the 1989 Westminster Conference. London: Westminster Conference, 1989

Clifford, Alan C. ‘Cranmer as Reformer’. Evangelical Quarterly 63/2 (1991): 99–122.

Cross, F. L. and E. A. Livingstone (eds.). ‘Cranmer, Thomas’. Pages 428 in The Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church. 3rd ed.Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997.

_______. ‘Henry VIII’. Pages 752–54 in The Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church. 3rd ed.Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997.

Elliott, Maurice. ‘Cranmer, a Man Under Authority: An Introduction’. Churchman 109/1 (1995): 61–65.

_______. ‘Cranmer’s Attitude to the Bible: “Lucerna Pedibus Meis Verbum Tuum”’. Churchman 109/1 (1995): 66–76.

_______. ‘Cranmer’s Attitude to the Monarchy: Royal Absolutism and the Godly Prince’. Churchman 109/3 (1995): 238–49.

_______. ‘Cranmer’s Attitude to the Papacy: “And as for the Pope, I Refuse Him as Christ’s Enemy”’. Churchman 109/2 (1995): 132–42.

Hall, Basil. ‘Cranmer’s Relations with Erasmianism and Lutheranism’. Pages 3–37 in Thomas Cranmer: Churchman and Scholar. Edited by Paul Ayris & David Selwyn. Woodbridge: Boydell, 1993

Kastan, David S. ‘“The Noyse of the New Bible”: Reform and Reaction in Henrician England’. Pages 46–68 in Religion and Culture in Renaissance England. Edited by Claire McEachern and Debora Shuger. Cambridge: University Press, 1997

MacCulloch, Diarmaid. ‘Archbishop Cranmer: Concord and Tolerance in a Changing Church’. Pages 199–215 in Tolerance and Intolerance in the European Reformation. Edited by Ole P. Grell and Bob Scribner. Cambridge: University Press, 1996

______. Thomas Cranmer: a Life. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1996.

Null, Ashley. Thomas Cranmer’s Doctrine of Repentance: Renewing the Power to Love. Oxford: University Press, 2000.

Rafferty, Oliver P. ‘Thomas Cranmer and the Royal Supremacy’. The Heythrop Journal 31 (1990): 129–49.

Redworth, Glyn. ‘A Study in the Formulation of Policy: The Genesis and Evolution of the Act of Six Articles’. Journal of Ecclesiastical History 37/1 (1986): 42–67.

Ridley, Jasper. Thomas Cranmer. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1966.

Primary Document Sources

Cranmer, Thomas. Miscellaneous Writings and Letters of Thomas Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury, Martyr, 1556. Edited by John E. Cox. The Parker Society. Cambridge: University Press, 1846.

Cranmer, Thomas. Writings and Disputations of Thomas Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury, Martyr, 1556, Relative to the Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper. Edited by John E. Cox. The Parker Society. Cambridge: University Press, 1844.

Hardwick, Charles. A History of the Articles of Religion: to Which Is Added a Series of Documents, from A.D. 1536 to A.D. 1615, Together with Illustrations from Contemporary Sources. Revised ed. London: Bell and Daldy, 1859.

Henry VIII. Defence of the Seven Sacraments. Edited by Louis O’Donovan. New York: Benziger Brothers, 1908.

Henry VIII. The King’s Book: Or, a Necessary Doctrine and Erudition for Any Christian Man. Edited by T. A. Lacey. Originally pub. 1543. London: SPCK, 1932.

Henry VIII. ‘The Six Articles Act, 1539’. Pages 303–19 in Documents Illustrative of English Church History. Edited by Henry Gee and William J. Hardy. London: Macmillan and Co., 1910

² G. W. Bromiley, Thomas Cranmer: Archbishop and Martyr (London: The Church Book Room Press, 1956), 36.

³ Glyn Redworth, ‘A Study in the Formulation of Policy: The Genesis and Evolution of the Act of Six Articles’, Journal of Ecclesiastical History 37/1 (1986): 47.

⁴ Henry VIII, Defence of the Seven Sacraments (ed. Louis O’Donovan; New York: Benziger Brothers, 1908), 200–9, 326–43.

⁵ The phrase ‘by the law of God’ which appears in articles 2–5 is replaced by ‘expedient and necessary to be retained’ in the sixth article on confession. See Henry VIII, ‘The Six Articles Act, 1539’, in Documents Illustrative of English Church History (ed. Henry Gee and William J. Hardy; London: Macmillan and Co., 1910), 305–6.

⁶ Ashley Null, Thomas Cranmer’s Doctrine of Repentance: Renewing the Power to Love (Oxford: University Press, 2000), 7.

⁷ Thomas Cranmer, Miscellaneous Writings and Letters of Thomas Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury, Martyr, 1556. (ed. John E. Cox; The Parker Society; Cambridge: University Press, 1846), 340–41. See MacCulloch, Cranmer, 183.

⁸ F. L. Cross and E. A. Livingstone (eds.), ‘Henry VIII’, in The Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church (3rd ed.; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997), 752–54, 753.

⁹ Redworth, ‘Formulation of Policy’, 47–49.

¹⁰ Peter N. Brooks, ‘Cranmer from His Correspondence’, The Expository Times 101/1 (1989): 8.

¹¹ Basil Hall, ‘Cranmer’s Relations with Erasmianism and Lutheranism’, in Thomas Cranmer: Churchman and Scholar (ed. Paul Ayris & David Selwyn; Woodbridge: Boydell, 1993), 5.

¹² Alan C. Clifford, ‘Cranmer as Reformer’, Evangelical Quarterly 63/2 (1991): 99–122.

¹³ Bromiley, Cranmer, 37.

¹⁴ Kenneth Brownell, ‘Thomas Cranmer: Compromiser or Strategist?’, in The Reformation of Worship: Papers Read at the 1989 Westminster Conference (London: Westminster Conference, 1989), 3–5.

¹⁵ Brownell, ‘Compromiser or Strategist?’, 4.

¹⁶ MacCulloch, Cranmer, 71.

¹⁷ Cranmer, Writings and Letters, 116.

¹⁸ Cranmer, Writings and Letters, 127.

¹⁹ Oliver P. Rafferty, ‘Thomas Cranmer and the Royal Supremacy’, The Heythrop Journal 31 (1990): 129–49.

²⁰ Maurice Elliott, ‘Cranmer’s Attitude to the Monarchy: Royal Absolutism and the Godly Prince’, Churchman 109/3 (1995): 244.

²¹ Jasper Ridley, Thomas Cranmer (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1966), 410.

²² Cranmer, Writings and Letters, 116–17.

²³ Paul Ayris, ‘God’s Vicegerent and Christ’s Vicar: the Relationship Between the Crown and the Archbishopric of Canterbury, 1533–53’, in Thomas Cranmer: Churchman and Scholar (ed. Paul Ayris & David Selwyn; Woodbridge: Boydell, 1993), 139.

²⁴ Rafferty, ‘Royal Supremacy’, 142–43, 146.

²⁵ Diarmaid MacCulloch, ‘Archbishop Cranmer: Concord and Tolerance in a Changing Church’, in Tolerance and Intolerance in the European Reformation (ed. Ole P. Grell and Bob Scribner; Cambridge: University Press, 1996), 199–215.

²⁶ Null, Doctrine of Repentance

²⁷ MacCulloch, Cranmer, 60–72, 173–236.

²⁸ Null, Doctrine of Repentance, 102–15; Hall, ‘Erasmianism and Lutheranism’, 15–17

²⁹ Hall, ‘Erasmianism and Lutheranism’, 18

³⁰ Null, Doctrine of Repentance, 21–24; Clifford, ‘Reformer’, 110–113.

³¹ Null, Doctrine of Repentance, 19–20; cf Brownell, ‘Compromiser or Strategist?’, 4, whose only explanation is that Cranmer was a ‘soft touch’, too ‘good and decent’ for the ruthless Tudor court.

³² Null, Doctrine of Repentance, 249.

³³ Cranmer, Writings and Letters, 342–43 where Cranmer disputes Vadian’s Zwinglian view of the sacrament.

³⁴ Thomas Cranmer, Writings and Disputations of Thomas Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury, Martyr, 1556, Relative to the Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper (ed. John E. Cox; The Parker Society; Cambridge: University Press, 1844), 374; Hall, ‘Erasmianism and Lutheranism’, 32–33 dates the change.

³⁵ Bromiley, Cranmer, 44–45.

³⁶ MacCulloch, Cranmer, 181.

³⁷ Null, Doctrine of Repentance, 26.

³⁸ Clifford, ‘Reformer’, 106.

³⁹ Elliott, ‘Monarchy’, 242.

⁴⁰ MacCulloch, Cranmer, 108–15.

⁴¹ MacCulloch, Cranmer, 135, 166–69.

⁴² Brooks, ‘Correspondence’, 9.

⁴³ MacCulloch, Cranmer, 161–65.

⁴⁴ Hall, ‘Erasmianism and Lutheranism’, 23.

⁴⁵ Charles Hardwick, A History of the Articles of Religion: to Which Is Added a Series of Documents, from A.D. 1536 to A.D. 1615, Together with Illustrations from Contemporary Sources (Revised ed.; London: Bell and Daldy, 1859), 245–46.

⁴⁶ Hardwick, Articles, 247–51.

⁴⁷ Hardwick, Articles, 252.

⁴⁸ Hardwick, Articles, 244.

⁴⁹ Hardwick, Articles, 253–56.

⁵⁰ Cranmer, Writings and Letters, 337–38; see Brooks, ‘Correspondence’, 9.

⁵¹ MacCulloch, Cranmer, 185–95; Null, Doctrine of Repentance, 133–34.

⁵² MacCulloch, Cranmer, 195, 206–7.

⁵³ Cranmer, Writings and Letters, 83–114, esp. 106–14; see Null, Doctrine of Repentance, 121–33; MacCulloch, Cranmer, 209–11.

⁵⁴ Cranmer, Writings and Letters, 114.

⁵⁵ MacCulloch, Cranmer, 196.

⁵⁶ Hall, ‘Erasmianism and Lutheranism’, 28–29; Bromiley, Cranmer, 41–42; Clifford, ‘Reformer’, 101.

⁵⁷ Cranmer, Writings and Letters, 345–46; see Brooks, ‘Correspondence’, 9.

⁵⁸ MacCulloch, Cranmer, 258.

⁵⁹ Cranmer, Writings and Letters, 118–27.

⁶⁰ Hall, ‘Erasmianism and Lutheranism’, 29.

⁶¹ MacCulloch, Cranmer, 260.

⁶² MacCulloch, Cranmer, 237.

⁶³ Redworth, ‘Formulation of Policy’, 56–61, quotation from page 60.

⁶⁴ Null, Doctrine of Repentance, 154–55; MacCulloch, Cranmer, 252–53

⁶⁵ Clifford, ‘Reformer’, 101.

⁶⁶ Null, Doctrine of Repentance, 157–212.

⁶⁷ Cranmer, Writings and Letters, 412; see Bromiley, Cranmer, 60.

⁶⁸ Rafferty, ‘Royal Supremacy’, 139–40; MacCulloch, Cranmer, 88–89, 98.

⁶⁹ Rafferty, ‘Royal Supremacy’, 142; MacCulloch, Cranmer, 158–59.

⁷⁰ Bromiley, Cranmer, 25; and Maurice Elliott, ‘Cranmer’s Attitude to the Papacy: “And as for the Pope, I Refuse Him as Christ’s Enemy”’, Churchman 109/2 (1995): 134 make similar points.

⁷¹ MacCulloch, Cranmer, 101–2, 232–36.

⁷² Brownell, ‘Compromiser or Strategist?’, 6, 11.

⁷³ Cranmer, Letters and Writings, 246; MacCulloch, Cranmer, 101.

⁷⁴ Cranmer, Letters and Writings, 246; MacCulloch, ‘Concord and Tolerance’, 205–10.

⁷⁵ MacCulloch, Cranmer, 232–36.

⁷⁶ MacCulloch, Cranmer, 135.

⁷⁷ MacCulloch, Cranmer, 156–57.

⁷⁸ Cranmer, Letters and Writings, 323–24, 401.

⁷⁹ MacCulloch, Cranmer, 159.

⁸⁰ Bromiley, Cranmer, 27–28; Rafferty, ‘Royal Supremacy’, 142; Elliott, Monarchy, 241.

⁸¹ Clifford, ‘Reformer’, 101; MacCulloch, Cranmer, 157–58, 268; Brooks, ‘Correspondence’, 10; Bromiley, Cranmer, 51.

⁸² Redworth, ‘Formulation of Policy’, 47–50; Bromiley, Cranmer, 46–48.

⁸³ Bromiley, Cranmer, 49.

⁸⁴ so Brownell, ‘Compromiser or Strategist?’, 11–12.

⁸⁵ so Rafferty, ‘Royal Supremacy’, 146.

⁸⁶ Hall, ‘Erasmianism and Lutheranism’, 3; Null, Doctrine of Repentance, 213–36.

⁸⁷ Brownell, ‘Compromiser or Strategist?’, 10.

Today we are going to conclude our series on biblical word power with something slightly different: a brief introduction to imputation. ‘Imputation’ is not actually a word used in the Bible. Nevertheless, imputation is still a very important word, because it can help us to plumb the depths of the issues surrounding the Bible’s use of words like ‘righteousness’ and ‘justification’, which we looked at in previous posts.

(Apologies to those who, like James, were hoping for a speedier conclusion to this series. As Sandy kindly noted, I’ve just moved to England with my family and so have been a bit too preoccupied to write!).

The issue: How can God justify the wicked?

If you’ve been following this series, you’ll notice that there seems to be a contradiction in the way that the Bible uses the closely related words ‘righteousness’ and ‘justification’.

Righteousness = being in line with a standard.

In particular in the forensic (law court) context,

Righteousness of a defendant = being in line with a legal and/or moral standard.

The job of the law court is to examine an individual and then declare whether that individual is in line with particular legal and/or moral standards. If the court finds that the individual is indeed righteous, then the court ‘justifies’ that individual:

To justify = to declare that a person is indeed righteous (usually in a forensic context, i.e. a law court).

The same is true, in an ultimate and cosmic sense, of God’s law court. God acts as judge of each individual, whom he has created. If God finds that the individual is in line with God’s own created moral standards, then God justifies that individual. If not, he condemns them.

However, we saw in my previous post that God can and does justify (i.e. declare righteous) people who are not actually righteous (e.g. 1 Cor 6:9-11; 1 Pet 3:18; Rom 4:5). He does this somehow because of atonement—atonement ultimately through the atoning sacrifice of Jesus Christ (Rom 3:25-26). How can he do that?

The answer: Imputation

The answer is imputation. The concept of imputation was especially championed by the 16th-century reformers and their successors. But imputation is not just a 16th-century creation; imputation arises naturally from the biblical understanding of righteousness and justification. What is imputation?

Imputation = when God treats Christ’s righteousness as if it were my righteousness.

Imputation is the way that God can justify me. In his role as judge of the world, God examines me to determine if I am righteous (i.e. in line with his created moral standards). This is a problem for me (and you!), since I am not in line with his standards; I have sinned. So by rights, I should be condemned, not justified. But instead, God treats Christ’s righteousness as if it were mine. And so God justifies me (i.e. God declares that I am indeed righteous). This is the heart of imputation.

Imputation and union with Christ

The obvious criticism of imputation is that it sounds like ‘legal fiction’. How can God justify me on the basis of somebody else’s righteousness, and still remain a righteous judge?

Well, there are two excellent and closely connected answers to this objection.

Firstly, God can justify me because of Jesus’ atoning sacrifice. In Christ, my unrighteousness has already been condemned. My sin, and God’s righteous anger against my sin, has been dealt with (Rom 3:25-26). There is now no more condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus (Rom 8:1-4).

Secondly, God can treat Christ’s righteousness as if it were mine because I am intimately connected with Christ through faith (e.g. Galat 2:20; Rom 3:26). As I trust in Jesus, and particularly in his death and resurrection, I become united to him through faith. And so God can justly impute Christ’s righteousness to me.

The reformer Martin Luther compared this idea to the way in which husband and wife share each other’s possessions and status. Because I am united to Christ, Christ takes my sin on himself, and I share his righteousness as my own possession.¹

Calvin writes about imputation too, describing it as a “fellowship of righteousness”:

We do not, therefore, contemplate him [i.e. Christ] outside ourselves from afar in order that his righteousness may be imputed to us but because we put on Christ and are engrafted into his body—in short, because he deigns to make us one with him. For this reason, we glory that we have fellowship of righteousness with him.

(John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion 3.11.10)

Questions about imputation

This post is only an introduction to the concept of imputation. There are lots of questions that we don’t have space or time to enter into. For example, what exactly is Christ’s righteousness? And how is it related to God’s righteousness?

These aren’t necessarily easy questions. But we need to realize that these questions about imputation are not just a matter of idle speculation; they are biblically based questions—questions that arise naturally from the way the Bible speaks about righteousness and justification. And we should expect that the more we consider such questions with the Bible open, and the more we take the Bible’s insights to heart, the more we will be able to know and love God for who he is and what he has done for us in Christ.

¹ Martin Luther, Martin Luther’s Basic Theological Writings, edited by Timothy F Lull, Fortress, Minneapolis, 1989, pp. 600-604.

This post is the first in a series designed to help you to get to know and love some of the important words used in the Bible so that you can be more precise as you seek to know God and talk about him.

Comments

A couple of initial comments about this series:

1. I’m not writing the series to encourage pedantic nitpicking! Nevertheless, we should aim to be precise in our language, especially when we’re talking about important topics relating to God and our relationship with him. Why?
   1. It’s because the more we think and speak about God the way the Bible does, the more we’ll be able to know the God of the Bible (as opposed to the God of our own imagining).
   2. If we can agree on basic definitions of words, it will enable us to have more fruitful discussions about these important topics, without having to constantly clarify and correct misunderstandings or red herrings.
   3. It will help us to identify false teaching more accurately.
2. Each post is designed to build on the previous one. I’ll give a basic description of the word’s meaning, followed by a brief discussion. My hope is that people will take a bit of time to remember and learn the description each time one of these posts appears.

Our first word: Righteousness

Today I’d like to begin with a very important word: righteousness. What is ‘righteousness’ (or, ‘being righteous’), according to the Bible? The word is used with different nuances in lots of different contexts, but there is a basic meaning that is common to all those contexts:

Righteousness = being in line with a standard.

(Note: This definition is the bit I hope you can learn off by heart).

That sounds pretty simple, right? But there’s a little trick to keep in mind—something that makes things a bit more complex, especially for us English-speakers: the same underlying root word (‘righteous’/‘righteousness’) in the original languages can be translated in our English Bibles with different words, such as ‘just’, ‘justice’, ‘fair’, ‘innocent’, ‘upright’, ‘equity’, etc. These different English words are, quite rightly, chosen by translators to suit different contexts. But the underlying original Hebrew or Greek root is the same in all cases. And the basic concept of ‘being in line with a standard’ is present in all cases as well.

What different standards are on view when the Bible uses the word ‘righteousness’? In the marketplace, for example, weights and measures can be called ‘righteous’ when they are in line with the proper accepted standard for buying and selling:

You shall have just [‘righteous’] balances, just [‘righteous’] weights, a just [‘righteous’] ephah, and a just [‘righteous’] hin: I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt. (Lev 19:36)

When the word applies to human beings or their actions, it’s often referring to a moral/ethical standard. Human beings are ‘righteous’ when they act in a morally correct way. For example:

He [Saul] said to David, “You are more righteous than I, for you have repaid me good, whereas I have repaid you evil.” (1 Sam 24:17)

When the word applies to God, it’s often talking about God acting in line with his own character as creator of moral standards and judge of those same moral standards. When God acts ‘righteously’, he sets the world to rights. For example:

… let the field exult, and everything in it!
Then shall all the trees of the forest sing for joy
before the Lord, for he comes,
for he comes to judge the earth.
He will judge the world in righteousness,
and the peoples in his faithfulness.

(Psa 96:12-13)

And that’s the lesson for today! To repeat the big point,

Righteousness = being in line with a standard.

It’s important to realize that, in different contexts, different standards are in view. But next time we will look at a critically important context where ‘righteousness’ appears in the Bible: the courtroom. Stay tuned!

Introduction

It is undeniable that Paul’s letters contain both declarations and commands, theology and ethics, indicatives and imperatives. Yet Paul himself never explicitly lays out the logical connection between these two elements of his thought. Certainly, indicatives generally precede and are connected to imperatives, sometimes broadly (e.g. Eph 1-3 then 4-6; Rom 1-11 then 12-15) sometimes in the same breath (e.g. Gal 5:1, Gal 5:25, 1 Cor 5:7; Phil 2:12-13).¹ Yet Paul employs a wide variety of individual motivations for ethical injunctions, ranging from God’s mercy (e.g. Rom 12:1) to God’s eschatological judgment (e.g. 1 Thess 4:6, Gal 5:21; 1 Cor 6:9-10), from the example of Christ (e.g. Phil 2:5), through the work of the Spirit (e.g. Rom 8), to the self-awareness of Christians (e.g. 1 Cor 6:1).² Can we comprehensively account for this variety? This question is one, not just of the existence, but of the implicit nature and logic of the connection between indicative and imperative in Paul’s thought.³

As we explore this connection, we will make certain assumptions. Firstly, we will assume (along with Classical Protestantism) that Paul’s controlling indicative is one of assurance of salvation for the individual believer. In Grogan’s words,

‘The Christian’s acceptance with God is grounded in Christ’s atoning work, accepted by faith [. . .] however ethical activity is to be conceived, whether as evidence of grace or as grateful response to grace, or as both, it cannot be rightly viewed as the means of acceptance with God’⁴

Secondly, we will assume that Paul does indeed operate with a coherent, if implicit, ethic.⁵ Thirdly, we will assume that Paul himself is tacitly aware of his ethic, in such a way that he can apply it in various contingencies without requiring a direct divine command (e.g. 1 Cor 7:25).⁶ On this basis, our task is to explore Paul’s rationale for moving from assurance of salvation to ethical injunction. We will then show how Paul applies his rationale to the particular connection between the Christian’s freedom and the Christian’s responsibility to love.

Separation?

Earlier studies tended to see little or no connection between indicative and imperative. The Lutheran tradition in particular, with its tendency to focus exclusively on the forensic element of justification and neglect participation in Christ, has often struggled with the connection.⁷ Freedom from ‘the law’ (e.g. Rom 7:4, 8:2) can often be understood as freedom from all imperatives. Pauline imperatives are then viewed as temporary pragmatic injunctions designed to protect the spiritually immature from sin or lead them in despair to the gospel.⁸

The tendency to view Pauline ethics in purely consequentialist categories is not limited to Lutheranism. The British Congregationalist C. H. Dodd, for example, was influential in distinguishing the gospel kerygma—the gospel proclamation of God’s mercy and judgment—from the didache subsequently given to those who respond.⁹ The initial purpose of this didache was to help Christians conform to their surrounding culture in terms of family life, etc.; to be prudent, non-provocative and non-eccentric.¹⁰ Paul went some way towards ‘transforming’ this didache by connecting it back into the kerygma, but imperfectly.¹¹ The USA, too, has advocates of a radical separation between salvation and ethics, in which assurance is linked to Christ’s atoning work whilst ethics is linked to the wholly separate sphere of Christ’s ‘lordship’.¹²

Necessity?

This separation of indicative and imperative, however, is inadequate to account for either the depth or the breadth of the theological grounds for ethical injunctions in Paul. As Rosner points out, Paul’s ‘ethics make no sense without his eschatology, soteriology, and ecclesiology’.¹³ Ethics is about preparing the church for the day into which it has already entered (e.g. Rom 13:11-12), following the paradigm of Christ’s death and resurrection (e.g. Romans 15:1-3; Phil 2:1-13), building the community through love (e.g. 1 Cor 12-14). This interrelatedness has led many scholars to posit a much closer connection between indicative and imperative which is often presented as a relationship of necessity.

Bultmann’s 1924 essay ‘The Problem of Ethics in Paul’ was a watershed in this regard.¹⁴ It made indicative and imperative the ‘basic formula’ of Pauline ethics and set the agenda of subsequent reflection.¹⁵ Bultmann saw the formula in terms of existential necessity. What is accomplished (indicative) must gain real existence in my moment of decision (imperative).¹⁶ ‘Since it is concrete, empirical man [. . .] who becomes justified, whose sin is forgiven, the relation of the justified to the life beyond does not exist apart from or beside his concrete conduct and destiny.’¹⁷

Bultmann seriously attempted to safeguard the reality of both God’s free grace and human decision.¹⁸ However, his existential categories cannot deal with the theological objectivity of the indicative: the existence of life ‘in Christ’ before it is ‘in me’ (Gal 2:17-21, Eph 2:5, Rom 5:6-10). For Bultmann, the indicative is only real ‘in me’. But others since him have realised that in Paul being precedes act; the imperative is grounded upon, appeals to and develops the implications of a given reality (past, present and future).¹⁹

Furnish, while rejecting Dodd’s separation of kerygma and didache, does not go down Bultmann’s existentialist track.²⁰ Rather, he sees the relation of indicative and imperative in terms of Christological necessity, particularly when it comes to the command to love. Indicative and imperative, ‘though they are not absolutely identified, [. . .] are closely and necessarily associated.’²¹ For Paul, the command to love ‘is the necessary manifestation within Christ’s body of the new creation already underway in the working of God’s Spirit.’²² ‘If one has received the gospel then he has already received God’s love, and with it the command to love his brethren.’²³ Why? Because ‘Christ’s love’ is both a gift and a claim, a benefit to receive and a power to display.²⁴

Furnish is certainly more theocentric than Bultmann. This enables him to distinguish a logical order in which indicative precedes imperative: the gift of Christ’s love is prior to its application to the believer. Yet for all this, it is hard to see how Furnish accounts for the contingency inherent in the imperative. He affirms that the imperative must be taken seriously, yet does not really explain how something that is necessary can also be commanded.²⁵ This is seen most acutely when we look at negative examples. When, for example, the Corinthians failed to love each other (1 Cor 1:11), then we must conclude that either Christ’s love had failed, or the connection between Christ’s love and their love was not ‘necessary’.

Similarly, Deidun argues that the indicative and imperative are connected by ‘theological necessity’.²⁶ He takes dei/ (1 Thess 4:1) in strong terms, ‘it is necessary’.²⁷ The ultimate ground of the imperative is the indwelling of God’s Spirit, impelling obedience.²⁸ As with Furnish, this is a helpful, Trinitarian corrective against Bultmann’s existentialism.²⁹ However, it is again difficult to see how to take the imperatives seriously in Deidun’s schema.³⁰ For Deidun, the imperative is about human freedom ‘not resisting’ God, ‘co-operating’ with God, ‘yielding’ to God and saying ‘yes’ to the ‘necessary effect of God’s inward activity’.³¹ Yet if God is necessarily involved in our obedience, isn’t the possibility of resisting him ruled out? Where is the place for the contingency that Deidun seeks to affirm? Deidun is ultimately forced to exchange Paul’s prolific second person imperatives for his own third person imperative: ‘Let God be what he is’.³²

Teleology

If necessity is inadequate to explain the connection between indicative and imperative, is there a better way? Furnish himself points in the right direction when he notes that ‘redemption is not just deliverance from the hostile powers to which [the Christian] was formerly enslaved, but freedom for obedience to God.’³³ This idea of an end goal or purpose for salvation is very promising, and we shall explore this connection in what follows.

O’Donovan, in discussing the Pauline material, points to the far-reaching effects of Christ’s resurrection.³⁴ The resurrection does not simply assure us of salvation from death; it entails a re-ordering of fallen creation. At its centre, the resurrection is a reaffirmation of God’s created order in all its richness: God, humanity and the creation are rightly related by Christ’s resurrection. Like Deidun, O’Donovan affirms both the Spirit’s work and the reality of human freedom in the imperative. However, he relates these two realities in a more coherent manner.³⁵ The gift of the Spirit in me means not only that I must ‘put to death’ what is opposed to God’s order (e.g. Col 3:5ff)³⁶ but also that ‘in the redemption of the world I, and every other “I”, yield myself to God’s order and freely take my place within it’.³⁷ The imperative is thus a call to yield to God’s necessary resurrection order rather than a necessary yielding to God’s order (as in Deidun); hence the imperative preserves its integrity. Our freedom is that of Spirit-indwelt Sons, ‘humbly and proudly in command’ of the natural order yet subject to the facts of this order.³⁸

O’Donovan then goes on to discuss the implications of this re-ordering.³⁹ Hill’s article in many ways parallels O’Donovan’s argument but is applied directly to Paul’s Letter to the Romans; it is worth a brief summary.⁴⁰ Hill argues that an overarching indicative of Romans is that the created ‘generic order’ (i.e. the set of relationships between classes of persons and things) is both deformed and concealed by sin (Rom 1) but has been restored by God’s work in Christ. This restored generic order has an historical goal that is yet to be reached at the last day, particularly freedom from decay and the redemption of our bodies (Rom 8:19-25). The incompleteness of this historical goal explains the frustration, suffering and sin that characterises our lives. Yet the renewed generic order in Christ also implies a presently renewed telic order; that is, a re-orientation of purpose for all those ‘in Christ’ rather than ‘in Adam’ (5:12-21). This renewed telic order, which is the basis for ethics (the imperative), is grounded on the renewed generic order (the indicative) that is only knowable by the renewal of our minds (12:2) by the Spirit (8:1-8).

We conclude that the relationship between the indicative and the imperative in Paul is neither incidental nor necessary, but naturally teleological. The indicative assures us not only that we have been saved from generic disorder in its fullest sense (‘death’) but to generic order in its fullest sense (‘life’), beginning with ‘righteousness’: right relationship between God and humanity ‘in Christ’ (e.g. Rom 5:17-18, 8:10; Eph 4:24; Phil 3:9).⁴¹ The imperative, then, is contingent upon the natural telic re-orientation of our being. This logic is evident in Romans 6: our new generic order in Christ (5:12-21) involves death to sin and life to God (6:1-10). Thus the first imperative in Romans is ‘account yourselves dead to sin but living to God in Christ Jesus’ (6:11), followed closely by commands to ‘yield’ your created members to God as tools of righteousness (6:12-13). The gift of ‘eternal life’, then, is not just a promise of immortality but the creation of a new person with re-oriented purposes (6:23). Similarly, in 1 Corinthians 15, we see that those who have no hope of life also have no imperative (15:32-33), but the knowledge of our bodily resurrection in Christ climaxes in a sweeping ethical imperative to labour ‘in the Lord’ (15:58). In Christ, we have not ‘abstract, ideal potentialities’⁴² but a real purposeful nature.

Freedom, love and Paul

A good example of the teleological structure of Paul’s ethics is the relationship between our freedom in Christ and our love for others. The connection is evident in Gal 5:13: ‘For you were called to freedom, brothers. Only do not use your freedom as (eivj) an opportunity for the flesh, but through love serve one another.’ Freedom is oriented toward love. This orientation is explored at more length in 1 Corinthians 8-10 and Romans 14-15, where, as we shall see, what Christians are saved to is given priority in ethical decision-making over what they have been saved from. As Barth observes, sanctification (which includes love) is the goal of justification and therefore has teleological priority.⁴³

1 Cor 8:1 raises the question about whether it is right to eat food offered to idols. Paul’s answer is lengthy and complex, but illuminating. He answers neither ‘yes’ or ‘no’ but gives a number of indicatives interspersed with imperatives. He begins by contrasting ‘knowledge’, which ‘puffs up’ (and is inherently divisive),⁴⁴ with ‘love’ which ‘builds’. It soon becomes evident that the ‘knowledge’ that he is disparaging is that knowledge which only considers what we have been saved from: in this case, bondage to polytheistic idolatry (8:4, cf 10:19). Paul appears to agree in principle with this ‘indicative’, identifying it with the beliefs of a group called ‘the strong’ who felt free to eat the food.⁴⁵ However, he also identifies a group called the ‘weak’ who do not have this knowledge (8:7), yet are Christian and are not perverse (8:9-12).⁴⁶ It seems that the ‘weak’ have accepted monotheism (8:6) but this has not filtered down into their attitude to idols; they have not yet realised that an idol is nothing (8:4).⁴⁷ Paul does not seem immediately concerned to correct this misunderstanding; and he certainly does not use the ‘correct’ attitude to idols as a basis for any imperatives. Rather, Paul’s controlling indicatives are those which describe what the Corinthians have been saved ‘to’. These two indicatives can be characterised as monotheism and brotherhood.

In 8:6, Paul weaves Jesus Christ into the classic Deuteronomic statement of monotheism (Deut 6:4); and then expands the statement to show its implications for the generic order of creation (‘all things’) and our own existence. Wright has dubbed 8:6 a statement of ‘Christological monotheism’, and sees it as the controlling indicative of the rest of the passage.⁴⁸ Horrell, on the other hand, argues Paul completely overrides 8:6 by his subsequent argument; Horrell posits that Paul’s ethics are not based on doctrinal considerations at all but rather on the competing notion of the imitation of Christ (11:1).⁴⁹ However, there are good reasons to agree with Wright that Christological monotheism is crucial to the rest of Paul’s argument. If we have been saved to worship ‘One God and Lord’, then the critical imperative is to worship God alone and nothing else. If the weaker brother really believes that idols are something, and he eats idol food, then his action will violate monotheism. Hence he is ‘destroyed’ (8:12).

The second controlling indicative of chapter 8 is brotherhood (8:11-13). The strong must realise that their generic order under Christ entails brotherhood with the weaker Christian, who through Christ’s death participates with them in the new creation (cf 12:13, Gal 3:27-28).⁵⁰ Paul, when applying this to his own situation, describes it as being ‘in-lawed of Christ’ (e;nnomoj Cristou/, 9:22)—an expression that shows that believers are governed by their new order of being in Christ and belonging to him, which leads to a life of service to others.⁵¹ Therefore the strong must lovingly ‘build’ the brothers, not to idolatry (8:10) but toward their telos which is worshipping the one true God (8:6, cf 10:23). This may require abstaining from idol food if it causes the weaker brother to stumble (8:9-13).

Paul brings brotherhood and monotheism together in chapter 10. Here Paul’s prohibition of idolatry is much stronger. This is probably best explained by the observation that chapter 8 discussed the individual’s use of his ‘authentic right’⁵² while chapter 10 has the redeemed community as a whole on view, as seen by the propensity of plural pronouns and words such as ‘participation’ and ‘body’ (10:16-20). Thus Paul’s ultimate intention in chapters 8-10 is to persuade the ‘knowers’ to forego their individual rights and seek their neighbour’s good (10:24).⁵³ The member of the redeemed body will not eat idol-meat even though as an individual it is perfectly acceptable, for this would be sinful for the church. This is truly a teleological ethic. It recognises the objective and necessary existence of a right but decides not to use that right in the interests of love, which is the purpose of the redeemed community which worships the one true God. This logic extends even to unbelievers (10:27-28). The implications of monotheism for what we are saved to overrides its implications for what we are saved from.

Romans 14-15 presents a similar argument in a different situation. The ‘weak’ here are vegetarians (14:2), observe special days (14:5-6) and abstain from wine (14:21). Most commentators see this as a more specifically Jew-Gentile issue than in 1 Corinthians.⁵⁴ Yet the overall shape of the ethic is similar. The ‘strong’ were in danger of basing their actions simply on the truth of what Christians have been saved from. Because they knew that purity regulations were of no consequence (14:14, 20), they were tempted to despise those who adhered to them.⁵⁵ Yet, once again, Paul bases his imperatives on what we are saved to. Because we are those welcomed by God and Christ into a community of the welcomed, the strong are to welcome those who have not yet worked out the full implications of their salvation (14:1-3, 15:7).⁵⁶ Conversely, since we belong to the Lord through Christ’s work and are thus accountable to him (14:6-12), the weak must not pre-empt God’s role by judging their brothers (14:3, 13).⁵⁷ Because we are in brotherhood with those for whom Christ died (14:15), we are to love them, thus serving Christ (14:15, 18; 15:1-2, 6). The ‘kingdom of God’ is God’s generic order which has the shape ‘righteousness and peace and joy’ rather than ‘food and drink’ (14:17). Although this saves us from scruples about eating and drinking, this fact alone is insufficient for ethics. For (ironically) if we remain with this fact alone, we end up making the ‘kingdom of God’ a matter of food and drink and destroy God’s real work (14:20-21).

Furnish, in discussing these chapters, is certainly right when he observes that ‘Paul regards love as an act of freedom’,⁵⁸ and that love is ‘the means by which one’s freedom in Christ is authentically realized.’⁵⁹ Yet a teleological understanding of the relationship between indicative and imperative is required to illuminates the inner logic of these observations. Freedom is not just about the destruction of bonds, it is about the restoration of right order in which the restored agent is free to fulfil the full range of potentialities inherent in that order: in this case, to love. Conversely, to use one’s freedom as an opportunity for the flesh (Gal 5:13) is just a different form of slavery.

Freedom, love and us

This understanding is very pertinent for our world in which people of many different backgrounds and convictions live, work and play together. Multiculturalism tests the limits of tolerance, e.g. how far can the secularist ideal of ‘reasoned debate and compromise’ really go when people who believe in animal sacrifice and female circumcision live side by side with those who find it morally repugnant?⁶⁰ This variety is also reflected in contemporary churches: in a single church, one could find somebody who struggles with alcoholism sitting next to a wine collector, or somebody who believes that the wearing of robes is vital to preserve the dignity of church order sitting next to somebody who believes robes are superstitious medieval trappings.

In responding to this diversity, some have proposed that the solution involves subordinating ‘truth’ to ‘love’. In order for us live in harmony, doctrinal propositions must be sacrificed. Horrell, as we saw, proposed that this is exactly what Paul did in 1 Corinthians 8-10.⁶¹ Stanley Grenz, for example, posits that a loving Christian community defines God’s truth.⁶² This sort of argument is even used to justify the blessing of same-sex unions by church authorities.⁶³

However, as we have seen, Paul’s solution is not to sacrifice doctrinal propositions, but rather to teleologically order and prioritise such propositions. If female circumcision, however ‘unnecessary’, enables women of a particular culture to freely serve and enjoy their family relationships, we should not prohibit it. But if it means ongoing frustration or degradation for such women, we should oppose it. It is never loving to bless same-sex unions, for this moves people away from the order of creation that is revealed in the law and restored in Christ. Similarly, if wine, robes or T-shirts lead my brothers and sisters towards drunkenness, superstition or irreverence and thus away from God’s good purposes, I must avoid them as far as I am able.

Paul says, ‘if food makes my brother stumble, I will never eat meat’ (1 Cor 8:13). This is not because Paul has decided to jettison all indicatives, but because he regards the indicative ‘an idol has no existence’ (8:4) as teleologically subordinate to the indicative of his salvation into a brotherhood in which God alone must be glorified. Thus Paul’s strongest imperative is to do nothing to prevent God being glorified by his brother for whom Christ died.

Bibliography of Sources Cited

Barth, Karl. The Doctrine of Reconciliation. Edited by G. W. Bromiley and T. F. Torrance. Church Dogmatics Vol. IV, 2. Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1958.

Bornkamm, Günther. Paul. Translated by D. M. G. Stalker. London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1971.

Bultmann, Rudolf. ‘The Problem of Ethics in Paul’. Pages 195-216 in Understanding Paul’s Ethics: Twentieth Century Approaches. Edited by Brian S. Rosner. Translated by Christoph W. Stenschke. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1995

Chattaway, Peter T. ‘Canadian Anglicans Face Off’. Christianity Today 48/1 (2004): 24.

Coles, Clifton. ‘Testing the Limits of Tolerance’. Futurist 37/2 (2003): 14-15.

Deidun, T. J. New Covenant Morality in Paul. Analecta Biblica 89. Rome: Biblical Institute Press, 1981.

Dennison, William D. ‘Indicative and Imperative: The Basic Structure of Pauline Ethics’. Calvin Theological Journal 14/1 (1979): 55-78.

Dodd, C. H. Gospel and Law: The Relation of Faith and Ethics in Early Christianity. Cambridge: University Press, 1951.

Furnish, Victor P. ‘Belonging to Christ: A Paradigm for Ethics in First Corinthians’. Interpretation 44/2 (1990): 145-57.

______. The Love Command in the New Testament. Nashville: Abingdon, 1972.

______. Theology and Ethics in Paul. Nashville: Abingdon, 1968.

Grenz, Stanley J. Revisioning Evangelical Theology: a Fresh Agenda for the 21st Century. Downers Grove: IVP, 1993.

Grogan, Geoffrey W. ‘The Basis of Paul’s Ethics in His Kerygmatic Theology’. Scottish Bulletin of Evangelical Theology 13/2 (1995): 129-47.

Hill, Michael. ‘Theology and Ethics in the Letter to the Romans’. Pages 249-62 in The Gospel to the Nations: Perspectives on Paul’s Mission. Edited by Peter Bolt; Mark Thompson. Leicester: Apollos, 2000.

Hodges, Zane C. Absolutely Free: a Biblical Reply to Lordship Salvation. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1989.

Horrell, David. ‘Theological Principle or Christological Praxis?: Pauline Ethics in 1 Corinthians 8:1-11:1’. Journal for the Study of the New Testament 67 (1997): 83-114.

Kolb, Robert and Timothy J. Wengert (eds.). The Book of Concord: The Confessions of the Evangelical Lutheran Church. Translated by Charles Arands, Eric Gritsch, Robert Kolb, et. al. Minneapolis: Fortress, 2000.

Martin-Schramm, James B. ‘Justification and the Center of Paul’s Ethics’. Dialog 33/2 (1994): 106-10.

Moo, Douglas J. The Epistle to the Romans. NICNT. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996.

Mott, Stephen C. ‘Ethics’. Pages 269-75 in Dictionary of Paul and His Letters: A Compendium of Contemporary Biblical Scholarship. Edited by Gerald F. Hawthorne, Ralph P. Martin and Daniel G. Reid. Leicester: IVP, 1993.

O’Donovan, Oliver. Resurrection and Moral Order: an Outline for Evangelical Ethics. 2nd ed. Leicester: Apollos, 1994.

Parsons, Michael. ‘Being Precedes Act: Indicative and Imperative in Paul’s Writing’. Pages 217-47 in Understanding Paul’s Ethics: Twentieth Century Approaches. Edited by Brian S. Rosner. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1995.

Rosner, Brian S. ‘Paul’s Ethics’. Pages 212-23 in The Cambridge Companion to St. Paul. Edited by James D. G. Dunn. Cambridge Companions to Religion. Cambridge: University Press, 2003.

______. ‘“That Pattern of Teaching”: Issues and Essays in Pauline Ethics’. Pages 1-23 in Understanding Paul’s Ethics: Twentieth Century Approaches. Edited by Brian S. Rosner. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1995

Ryrie, Charles C. So Great Salvation: What it Means to Believe in Jesus Christ. Chicago: Moody, 1997.

Seifrid, Mark A. ‘Righteousness, Justice and Justification’. Pages 740-45 in New Dictionary of Biblical Theology. Edited by T. D. Alexander, Brian S. Rosner. IVP Reference Collection. Leicester: IVP, 2000.

Shogren, Gary S. ‘“Is the Kingdom of God About Eating and Drinking or Isn’t it?” (Romans 14:17)’. Novum Testamentum 62/3 (2000): 238-56.

Still, E. Coye. ‘Paul’s Aims Regarding EIDWLOQUTA: A New Proposal for Interpreting 1 Corinthians 8:1-11:1’. Novum Testamentum 44/4 (2002): 333-43.

Wright, N. T. ‘Monotheism, Christology and Ethics: 1 Corinthians 8’. Pages 120-36 in The Climax of the Covenant: Christ and the Law in Pauline Theology. Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1991.

² Deidun, New Covenant Morality, 51-52.

³ Rosner, ‘Pattern of Teaching’, 17-20.

⁴ Geoffrey W. Grogan, ‘The Basis of Paul’s Ethics in His Kerygmatic Theology’, Scottish Bulletin of Evangelical Theology 13/2 (1995), 143.

⁵ Michael Hill, ‘Theology and Ethics in the Letter to the Romans’, in The Gospel to the Nations: Perspectives on Paul’s Mission (ed. Peter Bolt; Mark Thompson; Leicester: Apollos, 2000), 249.

⁶ Grogan, ‘Basis in Kerygmatic Theology’, 130.

⁷ James B. Martin-Schramm, ‘Justification and the Center of Paul’s Ethics’, Dialog 33/2 (1994), 108; e.g., the Augsburg Confession (1530) in Robert Kolb and Timothy J. Wengert, The Book of Concord: The Confessions of the Evangelical Lutheran Church (trans. Charles Arands, Eric Gritsch, Robert Kolb, et. al.; Minneapolis: Fortress, 2000), 39-40, separates justification from the Spirit’s work.

⁸ critiqued by Oliver O’Donovan, Resurrection and Moral Order: an Outline for Evangelical Ethics (2nd ed.; Leicester: Apollos, 1994), 154; Stephen C. Mott, ‘Ethics’, in Dictionary of Paul and His Letters: A Compendium of Contemporary Biblical Scholarship (ed. Gerald F. Hawthorne, Ralph P. Martin and Daniel G. Reid; Leicester: IVP, 1993), 269.

⁹ C. H. Dodd, Gospel and Law: The Relation of Faith and Ethics in Early Christianity (Cambridge: University Press, 1951), 9-10.

¹⁰ Dodd, Gospel and Law, 20-24.

¹¹ Dodd, Gospel and Law, 24.

¹² Charles C. Ryrie, So Great Salvation: What it Means to Believe in Jesus Christ (Chicago: Moody, 1997); Zane C. Hodges, Absolutely Free: a Biblical Reply to Lordship Salvation (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1989).

¹³ Brian S. Rosner, ‘Paul’s Ethics’, in The Cambridge Companion to St. Paul (ed. James D. G. Dunn; Cambridge Companions to Religion; Cambridge: University Press, 2003), 216-17.

¹⁴ Rudolf Bultmann, ‘The Problem of Ethics in Paul’, in Understanding Paul’s Ethics: Twentieth Century Approaches (ed. Brian S. Rosner; trans. Christoph W. Stenschke; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1995), 195-216.

¹⁵ William D. Dennison, ‘Indicative and Imperative: The Basic Structure of Pauline Ethics’, Calvin Theological Journal 14/1 (1979), 59.

¹⁶ Dennison, ‘Indicative and Imperative’, 61-62; Parsons, ‘Being Precedes Act’, 222.

¹⁷ Bultmann, ‘Ethics in Paul, 212; italics original.

¹⁸ Bultmann, ‘Ethics in Paul’, 216.

¹⁹ Günther Bornkamm, Paul (trans. D. M. G. Stalker; London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1971), 201-3; Parsons, ‘Being Precedes Act’, 229 & 247.

²⁰ Victor P. Furnish, Theology and Ethics in Paul (Nashville: Abingdon, 1968), 98-112.

²¹ Furnish, Theology and Ethics, 224-25; italics mine.

²² Victor P. Furnish, The Love Command in the New Testament (Nashville: Abingdon, 1972), 94; italics mine.

²³ Furnish, Love Command, 95.

²⁴ Victor P. Furnish, ‘Belonging to Christ: A Paradigm for Ethics in First Corinthians’, Interpretation 44/2 (1990), 153.

²⁵ Furnish, Theology and Ethics, 227.

²⁶ Deidun, New Covenant Morality, 60.

²⁷ Deidun, New Covenant Morality, 53-63.

²⁸ Deidun, New Covenant Morality, 55.

²⁹ Deidun, New Covenant Morality, 230-31.

³⁰ see Parsons, ‘Being Precedes Act’, 231.

³¹ Deidun, New Covenant Morality, 63, 67, 81-83.

³² Deidun, New Covenant Morality, 83.

³³ Furnish, Theology and Ethics, 226; italics mine.

³⁴ O’Donovan, Resurrection, 11-27.

³⁵ O’Donovan, Resurrection, 24.

³⁶ O’Donovan, Resurrection, 14-15.

³⁷ O’Donovan, Resurrection, 23-26.

³⁸ O’Donovan, Resurrection, 25-26.

³⁹ O’Donovan, Resurrection, 31-97.

⁴⁰ Hill, ‘Theology and Ethics’.

⁴¹ Mark A. Seifrid, ‘Righteousness, Justice and Justification’, in New Dictionary of Biblical Theology (ed. T. D. Alexander, Brian S. Rosner; IVP Reference Collection; Leicester: IVP, 2000), 740-45.

⁴² Bornkamm, Paul, 201.

⁴³ Karl Barth, The Doctrine of Reconciliation (ed. G. W. Bromiley and T. F. Torrance; Church Dogmatics Vol. IV, 2; Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1958), 507-511.

⁴⁴ Furnish, Love Command, 112.

⁴⁵ David Horrell, ‘Theological Principle or Christological Praxis?: Pauline Ethics in 1 Corinthians 8:1-11:1’, Journal for the Study of the New Testament 67 (1997), 86.

⁴⁶ Furnish, Love Command, 113.

⁴⁷ Horrell, ‘Principle or Praxis?’, 88.

⁴⁸ N. T. Wright, ‘Monotheism, Christology and Ethics: 1 Corinthians 8’, in The Climax of the Covenant: Christ and the Law in Pauline Theology (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1991), 129.

⁴⁹ Horrell, ‘Principle or Praxis?’, 88-91; 106-10.

⁵⁰ Furnish, Love Command, 114.

⁵¹ Furnish, ‘Belonging to Christ’, 155.

⁵² E. Coye Still, ‘Paul’s Aims Regarding EIDWLOQUTA: A New Proposal for Interpreting 1 Corinthians 8:1-11:1’, Novum Testamentum 44/4 (2002), 335.

⁵³ Still, ‘1 Cor 8:1-11:1’, 337-39.

⁵⁴ Gary S. Shogren, ‘“Is the Kingdom of God About Eating and Drinking or Isn’t it?” (Romans 14:17)’, Novum Testamentum 62/3 (2000), 239-45; Douglas J. Moo, The Epistle to the Romans (NICNT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996), 831.

⁵⁵ Furnish, Love Command, 116.

⁵⁶ Moo, Romans, 836.

⁵⁷ Furnish, Love Command, 116.

⁵⁸ Furnish, Love Command, 111-12.

⁵⁹ Furnish, Love Command, 116.

⁶⁰ Clifton Coles, ‘Testing the Limits of Tolerance’, Futurist 37/2 (2003): 14-15.

⁶¹ Horrell recognises (without resolving) the inherent dangers of this (‘Principle or Praxis?’, 107-9).

⁶² Stanley J. Grenz, Revisioning Evangelical Theology: a Fresh Agenda for the 21st Century (Downers Grove: IVP, 1993), 73-129.

⁶³ Peter T. Chattaway, ‘Canadian Anglicans face off’ Christianity Today 48/1 (2004): 24.

Introduction

The relationship between God and humanity is, of course, of fundamental importance to Biblical revelation. The details of how this relationship is made right, from God’s point of view and from our own (corporately and individually), are also treated at length, both in the Scriptures and in subsequent Christian reflection. Here we will examine one aspect of the workings of this relationship; the relation between the creation of the believer’s right relationship with God (justification) and the effects of that relationship in the believer (sanctification). Once the terms are clarified according to normal systematic theological usage, the location of their unity and the points of their distinction will be defined, with particular weight given to Calvin’s Institutes. Then will follow a brief history of thought on the topic from Augustine to Calvin. We will then be in a position to look at some contemporary misunderstandings of the relation; focusing on the consequences of neglecting either the unity or the distinction.

Definitions

The ‘righteousness / justice’ word group in the Bible (OT root צדק, NT δικ-) is primarily relational.¹ One is ‘right’ with respect to a person, especially God, rather than a purely abstract principle (e.g. Gen 15:6, Deut 6:25, 1 Pet 3:10-12).² Yet this relational rightness is realised in concrete ways: in ‘right order’—because God is creator (e.g. Isa 45:8)—and in forensic situations—because God is ruler and judge (e.g. Deut 6:20-25, Ps 7:6-11, 1 Sam 26:23).³ Thus when we come to the New Testament, we see that God effects our ‘justification’ both by establishing order (e.g. Eph 4:24) and by judging sin ‘forensically’ (e.g. Rom 8:33-34).⁴

Hence justification encompasses the creation of a rightly ordered relationship with God and the legal declaration that this right relationship does, indeed, exist. To neglect this relational reality by defining justification in an exclusively forensic (or ‘declaratory’) way is ‘legal myth’.⁵ This element of ‘unreality’ in some understandings has been rightly criticised, e.g. by Osiander,⁶ Newman⁷ and Rahner.⁸ Yet these critics attempted to locate righteousness in the believer, wrongly (e.g. Rom 4:5). Rather, as Calvin perceived, justification is an ontic reality rooted in Christ’s person and work rather than in the believer.⁹ Christ’s substitutionary death really achieved it, and it is appropriated by faith, uniting us with Christ (2 Cor 5:21).

Sanctification is definitionally problematic, because of the divergence in the use of the term between the Bible and systematic theology. When the Bible applies terms such as קדשׁ (OT), ἁγι-, καθα- and παριστημι (NT) to believers, on view is an act of God (e.g. John 17:19, Eph 5:26, Heb 10:29, 1 Cor 6:11, Acts 20:32, Acts 26:18) to make believers fit for his purposes (e.g. 2 Tim 2:21), with ongoing consequences in their lives (e.g. 1 Thess 5:23, Rev 22:11, John 15:2), often with their co-operation (e.g. Rom 6:19, 22; 2 Cor 7:1).¹⁰ The moral element is present throughout Scripture (e.g. Lev 19:2ff, Matt 15:19-20). Peterson defines sanctification as a covenantally-conceived aspect of the total renewal of the person,¹¹ with definitive sanctification being fundamental.¹²

Protestant systematics, however, has understood the term differently.¹³ Melancthon used it to refer to the total process of the action of the Spirit in our lives, based on our renewal.¹⁴ Calvin developed the word along similar lines,¹⁵ although he didn’t use sanctification as a heading.¹⁶ Now it is commonly used as a heading to cover the work of the Spirit in conforming our lives to right relationship with God.¹⁷ We will use this systematic understanding, conscious of Peterson’s warning that it is different to the biblical term, and that this has caused confusion in many articulations. Perhaps a more appropriate biblical grammar would be terms such as ‘walking’ (e.g. Rom 6:4, 8:4, 13:13, 14:15; 1 Cor 3:3; 2 Cor 4:2, 5:7, 10:2-3; Gal 5:16; Eph 2:10, 4:1, 5:2, 5:8, 5:15; Phil 3:17-18; Col 1:10, 2:6, 4:5, 1 Thess 2:12, 4:1, 4:12, 1 John 1:7, 1 John 2:6); ‘discipleship’, especially in the Gospels;¹⁸ putting off the old self and putting on Christ, or the new self (Rom 13:12, 14; Eph 4:22-25; Col 3:8, 10; Jam 1:21; 1 Pet 2:1); ‘killing / crucifying sin / flesh / desires / the old man’ (Rom 8:13, Col 3:5ff) and ‘transformation’ (Rom 12:2, 2 Cor 3:18).

United but distinguished in Christ

What, then, is the relation between the creation of a right relationship with God (justification) and living in this relationship (sanctification)? It cannot be the relation between the declaration and the reality, for justification is the reality in Christ.¹⁹ It is better conceived as the relation between the objective and the subjective.²⁰ Calvin, in locating both justification and sanctification in Christ, was able to perceive their unity and inseparability, as well as their distinction. Before looking at historical and contemporary articulations of the relation between justification and sanctification, we will explore the nature of this unity and distinction.

Justification and sanctification are united as the work of the Triune God. Calvin’s Institutes, which are self-consciously and credally Trinitarian,²¹ locate both sanctification and justification in the work of the Spirit, ‘the bond by which Christ effectually unites us to himself.’²² The Spirit, says the Nicene Creed, is ‘the holy one, the Lord, the lifegiver, the one who proceeds from the Father [and the Son]’.²³ In Colossians, the Spirit is not mentioned except in 1:8, yet ‘in Christ’ language (Colossians 1:2, 4, 27, 28; 2:2, 5, 6, 8-16, 17, 20; 3:1-4, 11, 15-16, 24) is bound up with calls to living a godly life (especially chapter 3). Thus Jenson’s comment that justification must follow the Cappadocian pattern ‘initiated by the Father, effected by the Son and perfected by the Spirit’ applies equally to sanctification.²⁴ As we shall see, modern conceptions which separate the work of the Son (as justifier) and Spirit (as sanctifier) are problematic.²⁵

Furthermore, justification and sanctification are united in Christ. Paul is sweeping in his inclusion of the whole of our reality en Christo.²⁶ This includes justification, sanctification (1 Cor 1:30, 1 Cor 6:11) and our Christian walk (Eph 2:10; Col 2:6; Rom 6:3ff). Our faith union with Christ means that in justification, ‘We do not, therefore, contemplate him outside ourselves from afar in order that his righteousness may be imputed to us but because we put on Christ are engrafted into his body—in short, because he deigns to make us one with him.’²⁷ Our faith union in Christ is so fundamental for sanctification that Paul’s criterion for the value of our works is not their intrinsic value but their source: whatever is not from faith is sin (Rom 14:17).

Justification and sanctification are united in Christ’s whole divine-human person and work. They are, in fact, en Christo Jesou (1 Cor 1:30, i.e. Christ crucified 1:23). As Athanasius observed, the Spirit is mediated to us through the Christ’s humanity.²⁸ Because we are united by faith to the incarnate divine person there is an ontic basis of justification, inseparable from sanctification. But because we are united by faith to Christ’s human work of obedient substitutionary death and resurrection there is a forensic element to justification, and sanctification is typified by mortification and vivification.²⁹ This is the problem with Jenson’s Trinitarian perspective on justification referred to above.³⁰ For Jenson, justification is a union of the divine Logos (‘the word that he is’) with our soul, so ‘we are righteous as we are one with the Son’.³¹ Although the Son’s divine righteousness is ‘itself achieved as a human event’,³² we are separated from Christ’s work, since we do not benefit directly from it. Rather, the Logos achieves Trinitarian righteousness through death and resurrection, and we benefit by partaking in the Logos. Hence Jenson wants to dispense completely with the forensic element of justification.³³ We shall see that many modern misconceptions spring from a neglect of either the person or work of the Christ in whom is our righteousness and life.

However, justification and sanctification are also distinct. Firstly, they are distinguished eschatologically. Justification, an objective reality totally en Christo, is completed in Christ’s crucifixion, although it is hidden before Christ’s eschatological appearance (Col 3:3). Sanctification, insofar as it is a subjective reality in the believer’s life, will be completed at the eschaton ‘in glory’ (Col 3:4), although it is anticipated before then (Col 3:5ff). Luther expressed this in the eschatological dialectic of ‘simultaneously a sinner and justified’.³⁴ Calvin expressed it in the fact that the primary pattern of our sanctification before the eschaton is Christ’s death rather than his glory.³⁵

Justification and sanctification are also distinct soteriologically. There is an ordered relationship between the two. Just as we received Christ, so we must walk in him (Col 3:6). This ordo salutis is not chronological, since they are inseparable in Christ. Hoekama, following Berkouwer, rightly rejects such a chronological separation of justification and sanctification.³⁶ Yet in his zeal to reject certain teachings which posit chronological order, he is too quick to dismiss any order at all, and ends up with an amorphous ‘process/way of salvation’.³⁷ Yet Barth notes that soteriology will suffer if we do not distinguish them in a logically ordered fashion.³⁸ For Barth, justification (God’s act towards us) is the basis of sanctification (God’s act in us).³⁹ Teleologically, however, sanctification is prior as the goal of justification.⁴⁰

How does this distinction affect soteriology? The basis of salvation from condemnation into eternal life is justification, not sanctification (Rom 5:9, Rom 8:33-34, Titus 3:7), because it is the forensic act before the judge. This is not to deny that sanctification may be ‘evidentiary’ when it comes to final judgment,⁴¹ nor that there may be an assessment of our works (done in Christ and by faith).⁴² Yet after all we have done, we are still unworthy servants (Luke 17:10). God’s creation of a right relationship with himself is not dependent upon our living in that relationship.

Historical development

We have already mentioned some of the key historical figures. Before we proceed to look at contemporary misunderstandings, however, we will briefly trace the historical development.

The contribution of Augustine, being a foundation for all serious Western thought in the doctrine of grace and salvation, is immensely significant, yet also immensely problematic. Positively, he sourced justification entirely in God’s grace rather than in human nature (Rom 3:24).⁴³ Yet, in using as a controlling category a Roman/Aristotelian-Ciceronian category of justice (reward for merit) rather than Biblical righteousness (right relationship), he failed to distinguish justification and sanctification. So believers are justified:

‘“freely by his grace”: not that the justification is without our will, but the weakness of our will is discovered by the law, so that grace may restore the will and the restored will may fulfil the law’⁴⁴

For Augustine, sanctification is a part of the process of justification. Aquinas followed suit, systematising both of Augustine’s emphases: that God is the initiator of justification (operative grace), and that we are involved in the process (co-operative grace).⁴⁵

Luther’s breakthrough was to locate our justification, not in an infused righteousness, but in Christ’s righteousness imputed to us. Thus he was able to distinguish ‘two kinds of righteousness’: Christ’s alien righteousness which we receive by faith, and the righteousness which is our proper righteousness, but which is the fruit and consequence of Christ’s alien righteousness.⁴⁶ It is Christ’s alien righteousness which saves, although ‘[t]rue faith is not idle.’⁴⁷ Yet this ‘alien’ righteousness is not something distant from us, for it is truly given to us through faith in Christ. ‘Righteousness is our possession, to be sure, since it was given to us out of mercy. Nevertheless, it is foreign to us, because we have not merited it.’⁴⁸ Luther used personal, relational terms rather than forensic to describe imputation: fulfilment of a promise or sharing in a marriage union.⁴⁹ For Luther, Christ himself becomes ours.⁵⁰

Melanchthon, Luther’s colleague and successor, systematically distinguished justification from sanctification. Unfortunately, Melancthon and the documents he influenced tended to use exclusively forensic terms for justification.⁵¹ For example, in the Augsburg Confession (1530) which is a foundational Lutheran document, it is Christ’s work which reconciles the Father to us, and so we are justified by faith ‘on Christ’s account’.⁵² This is correct, but incomplete. The Spirit is not specified a role in justification, only sanctification.⁵³ The lack of emphasis on personal union with Christ was problematic for the Lutheran Osiander, who tried to reinstate the ontic basis of justification by bypassing Christ’s humanity and ‘merging’ our nature with Christ’s divine nature, which Calvin calls a ‘gross mingling’.⁵⁴ The Formula of Concord (1577) went some way toward reinstating the Spirit’s role in justification,⁵⁵ and also the role of both Christ’s divinity and humanity.⁵⁶

It was Calvin, however, who articulated a truly coherent picture of the Spirit as the bond of unity to Christ, and Christ’s human righteousness justifying those united to him in faith:⁵⁷

‘Although we may distinguish [justification and sanctification], Christ contains both of them inseparably in himself. [. . . T]hus [. . .] we are justified not without works yet not through works, since in our sharing in Christ which justifies us, sanctification is just as much included as righteousness.’⁵⁸

We are now in a position to address the deficiencies and consequences in some contemporary misunderstandings.

Separating Son and Spirit: the Holiness Movement

‘Holiness’ denominations such as the Nazarenes and the Keswick movement exist today but are relatively small.⁵⁹ Sadly, prosperity has overtaken holiness as the buzzword in many contemporary churches. For this reason, we will not devote much space to this topic. The ‘holiness’ movement has some origin with Wesley who stressed sanctification to the extent that he hinted at the possibility of perfection in this life. The Keswick movement stresses ‘victorious Christian living’ by complete reliance on the Christ’s strength in the believer.⁶⁰

This is a faulty Christological relation between justification and sanctification; and a consequent separation of the incarnate Son and the Spirit. Christ’s work justifies me; subsequently Christ’s person indwells and sanctifies me by the Spirit. Personal assurance can be lost because Christ’s perfect work is distant from the believer and Christ’s person is seen primarily at work in our imperfect sanctification.⁶¹ Sanctification becomes moralism and perfectionism.⁶²

Collapsing the distinction: Lutheran-Catholic Dialogues

Recent Lutheran-Catholic dialogues⁶³ have fed upon the lack of adequate Christological foundation for justification in Lutheran confessions outlined above. Modern Catholicism is defined by the Council of Trent (16th Century) interpreted by the Second Vatican Council (20th Century). Trent quite starkly reasserted the Augustinian and scholastic position that ‘justification itself [. . .] is not only a remission of sins but also the sanctification and renewal of the inward man’ leading to eternal life.⁶⁴ Trent’s concern was Christological: ‘faith, unless hope and charity be added to it, neither unites man perfectly with Christ nor makes him a living member of His body.’⁶⁵ Modern Catholic theologians such as Rahner and Küng have had the same issue: there appears to be no ontic basis in the purely ‘declarative’ Lutheran doctrine of justification by faith, and they feel the need to locate this reality in the believer.⁶⁶

The outcome is more than just a redefinition of terms, a simple recognition that what Catholics mean by the term ‘justification’ is exactly what Protestants mean by the two terms ‘justification and sanctification’;⁶⁷ faith ‘com[ing] to fruition in our love’.⁶⁸ More seriously, the ontic reality of justification is displaced from being purely ‘in Christ’ and placed, like sanctification, partly in the believer. The Joint Declaration make this explicit in paragraphs 23 and 24: neither justification nor sanctification is independent of human cooperation.⁶⁹

Thus there is a simul of assurance for believers. ‘In trust in God’s promise they are assured of their salvation, but are never secure looking at themselves.’⁷⁰ This may be true, but it is entirely misleading when followed by ‘Every person, however, may be concerned about his salvation when he looks upon his own weaknesses and shortcomings’⁷¹ which assumes an undeniable basis of salvation in our own works. It is, in fact, opposite to Luther’s position, in which we are made more sure of our salvation when we look upon our own weaknesses and shortcomings, and in despair look instead to Christ.

Neglecting the Person of Christ: no-Lordship Salvation

MacArthur speaks of the development of a ‘no-lordship gospel’ in North America.⁷² Representative advocates are Ryrie⁷³ and Hodges.⁷⁴ According to Ryrie, faith is ‘assent’ rather than relational commitment, justification is entirely forensic, and Christ’s work is the complete gospel.⁷⁵ Hodges is more radical: repentance is not only distinct from faith,⁷⁶ but separate. Faith is the basis of justification and salvation; repentance is the basis of the entirely separate concept of relationship or fellowship with God and Christ.⁷⁷ Faith can exist without repentance, salvation without a relationship with God!⁷⁸

This is, of course, a radical disjunction between Christs’ person and work. It leads quite simply to false assurance; assurance based on a ‘faith’ devoid of repentance, which is not union with Christ. Furthermore, like the holiness movement, because Christology is separated from sanctification then the Christian life is emptied of its power, which is the Christ’s Lordship exercised through the cross (Phil 2:1-11, Col 2:6-15). There is also the intense, individualistic focus which doesn’t impinge upon the outer man or the public world, as Wright observes happens when the focus on Jesus’ lordship is lost.⁷⁹

Neglecting the Work of Christ: the ‘New Perspective’ on Paul

In many ways the ‘New Perspective on Paul’⁸⁰ is a direct mirror image of the ‘no-lordship salvation’ view. Wright, for example, separates Christ’s person and work, so that the person displaces the work from the ‘centre’ of Paul’s thought:

‘[Justification] cannot be put right at the centre, since that place is already taken by the person of Jesus himself, and the gospel announcement of his sovereign kingship.’⁸¹

‘“the gospel” is not an account of how people get saved. It is [. . .] the proclamation of the lordship of Jesus Christ.’⁸²

The New Perspective is self-consciously a reaction against Lutheran excesses, particularly the individualistic, existential theology of Bultmann (critiqued by Stendahl).⁸³ There is an emphasis on Christ’s lordship which creates community. Following Schweitzer to some extent,⁸⁴ Sanders has made a disjunction between juristic and participationist understandings of justification, such that participationist is more fundamental.⁸⁵

To use Wright’s own words, his position is, ‘a covenantal reading of Paul’. Forensic, righteousness, and even apocalyptic concepts are all subsumed under the overarching theme of ‘covenant’, which is primarily a corporate rather than an individual notion.⁸⁶ The consequence is that justification and sanctification are both aspects of the covenant between God and his people.⁸⁷

But this ‘covenant’ is now interposed between the individual believer and Christ’s cross.⁸⁸ There is an ecclesiological and eschatological distance between the believer and his justification. This is because our union with Christ by the Spirit is ecclesiological (or ‘irrevocably covenantal’⁸⁹) and because ‘justification is the covenant declaration, which will be issued on the last day, in which the true people of God will be vindicated [. . .] the verdict, can be issued already in the present, in anticipation.’⁹⁰ Ironically, Wright’s theology, which seeks to put Christ’s person at centre stage, ends up working in the purely forensic, declarative categories for justification that Calvin worked so hard to join with the person. Present justification is merely a ‘declaration’, a ‘verdict’.⁹¹ It is simply a ‘definition’ of covenant membership.⁹² We are left, in Calvin’s words, to ‘contemplate him outside ourselves from afar’.⁹³

Sanctification is also ‘covenantal’. The sanctifying work of the Spirit is primarily seen in a ‘re-integrated humanity’,⁹⁴ the ‘existence of a community of love.’⁹⁵ Because the ‘real’ justification takes place at the eschaton, it follows sanctification chronologically. So it is hard to avoid the conclusion that, from the point of view of the individual, justification is based on sanctification.⁹⁶ This looks very similar to the Roman Catholic position.

‘The gospel’ of ‘Jesus is Lord’ is primarily for the world, not the individual.⁹⁷ It is a royal pronouncement comparable with the pronouncement of an ancient emperor.⁹⁸ The individual’s response and experience is acknowledged by Wright, but sidelined in the interests of community.⁹⁹ But when the question, ‘How can I be saved?’ is sidelined as secondary, it doesn’t disappear. The individual believer will keep asking the question, and the answers he receives will be inadequate because Christ’s work has not been used to properly define his person. This ambiguity is compounded by the promotion of the ecumenical task,¹⁰⁰ since it is agreement about Christ’s person rather than the details his work which bring people to the ‘same table.’¹⁰¹

Again, there are consequences for sanctification. ‘[I]n redefining justification and distancing it from the gospel, Wright has actually weakened the ground from which holiness springs.’¹⁰² Holiness comes from the complete freedom in Christ brought about by our justification through his work, and which must be constantly drawn on throughout the Christian life.¹⁰³ This is all sadly ironic, given Wright’s concern to proclaim a God who is intimately involved in every aspect of our world.¹⁰⁴

Conclusion

Justification and sanctification are united as the work of the Triune God and in Christ’s person and work. Thus they are inseparable. Yet they must also be distinguished, as entities with eschatologically distinct completion (now and not yet) and as different moments in the order of salvation (the creation of a right relationship with God following by living in that relationship). The holiness movement separates Son and Spirit, the Lutheran-Catholic dialogues collapse the distinction between justification and sanctification, the no-Lordship Salvation view neglects Christ’s person, and the New Perspective on Paul neglects the application of Christ’s work to the believer. The results are loss of assurance, loss of holiness, and (most seriously) loss of saving union with Christ.

Footnotes

¹ See, for example, Mark A. Seifrid, ‘Righteousness, Justice and Justification’, in New Dictionary of Biblical Theology (ed. T. D. Alexander, Brian S. Rosner; IVP Reference Collection; Leicester: IVP, 2000), 740; Alister E. McGrath, Iustitia Dei (2nd ed.; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 2; Alan Torrance, ‘Justification’, in The Oxford Companion to Christian Thought (ed. Adrian Hastings, Alistair Mason and Hugh Pyper; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), 362.

² Seifrid, ‘Righteousness’, 740.

³ Seifrid, ‘Righteousness’, 741–42.

⁴ Seifrid, ‘Righteousness’, 743–45; Torrance, ‘Justification’, 362.

⁵ See Anselm’s merit/satisfaction atonement model (Gordon S. Dicker, ‘Luther’s Doctrines of Justification and Sanctification I’, Reformed Theological Review 26/1 (1967): 15), modern Lutheranism (Anthony N. S. Lane, Justification by Faith in Catholic-Protestant Dialogue: An Evangelical Assessment (London: T & T Clark, 2002), 153).

⁶ Peter Toon, Justification and Sanctification (Foundations for Faith; Westchester: Crossway, 1983), 64.

⁷ Toon, Justification and Sanctification, 113-17.

⁸ Karl Rahner, Theological Investigations Vol. VI: Concerning Vatican Council II (trans. Karl-H. and Boniface Kruger; 23 vols.; Baltimore: Helicon, 1969), 221-23.

⁹ John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, Vol. 1 (ed. John T. McNeill; trans. Ford L. Battles; 2 vols.; Library of Christian Classics vol. XX; Philadelphia: Westminster, 1955), 753.

¹⁰ K. Bockmuehl, ‘Sanctification’, in New Dictionary of Theology (ed. Sinclair B. Ferguson and David F. Wright; Leicester: IVP, 1988), 613-14.

¹¹ David Peterson, Possessed by God: A New Testament Theology of Sanctification and Holiness (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1995), 133.

¹² Peterson, Possessed by God, 13.

¹³ Peterson, Possessed by God, 13-14.

¹⁴ Philip Melanchthon, ‘Loci Communes Theologici’, in Melanchthon and Bucer (ed. Wilhelm Pauck; trans. Lowell J. Satre; The Library of Christian Classics XIX; London: SCM Press, 1969), 130-31.

¹⁵ Calvin, Institutes, 607, 798.

¹⁶ E.g. Calvin, Institutes, 552-3, 684-86, 775-76.

¹⁷ E.g. Anthony A. Hoekema, Saved by Grace (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1989), 192; Oliver Davies, ‘Holiness’, in The Oxford Companion to Christian Thought (ed. Adrian Hastings, Alistair Mason and Hugh Pyper; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), 302.

¹⁸ Karl Barth, The Doctrine of Reconciliation (ed. G. W. Bromiley and T. F. Torrance; Church Dogmatics Vol. IV, 2; Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1958), 500.

¹⁹ Contra Toon, Justification and Sanctification, 42.

²⁰ Torrance, ‘Justification’, 362.

²¹ Robert C. Doyle, Eschatology and the Shape of Christian Belief (Carlisle: Paternoster, 1999), 191.

²² Calvin, Institutes, 538.

²³ Geddes MacGregor, The Nicene Creed: Illumined by Modern Thought (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1980), ix.

²⁴ Robert W. Jenson, ‘Justification as a Triune Event’, Modern Theology 11/4 (1995): 421.

²⁵ E.g. R. E. O. White, ‘Sanctification’, in Evangelical Dictionary of Theology (ed. Walter A. Elwell; Baker Reference Library; Grand Rapids: Baker, 1984), 970.

²⁶ 73 times in Paul, 3 in Peter.

²⁷ Calvin, Institutes, 737.

²⁸ Thomas F. Torrance, The Trinitarian Faith (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1995), 189.

²⁹ Peterson, Possessed by God, 113-14.

³⁰ Jenson, ‘Justification’, 421-27.

³¹ Jenson, ‘Justification’, 425.

³² Jenson, ‘Justification’, 426.

³³ Jenson, ‘Justification’, 425.

³⁴ Doyle, Eschatology, 165.

³⁵ Peterson, Possessed by God, 114.

³⁶ Hoekama, Saved by Grace, 17-27

³⁷ Hoekama, Saved by Grace, 16

³⁸ Barth, Reconciliation, 504.

³⁹ Barth, Reconciliation, 503.

⁴⁰ Barth, Reconciliation, 507-511.

⁴¹ Calvin, Institutes, 821-25.

⁴² See the Formula of Concord in Kolb and Wengert, Book of Concord, 576; Calvin, Institutes, 813; ‘Personal action implies purpose, and this in turn implies assessment’ (D. Broughton Knox, Selected Works Volume I: The Doctrine of God (ed. Tony Payne; Kingsford: Matthias Media, 2000), 57-58).

⁴³ Torrance, ‘Justification’, 363.

⁴⁴ Augustine, Later Works (ed. John Baillie, J.T.McNeill and H.P. Van Duse; trans. John Burnaby; Library of Christian Classics vol. VIII; London: SCM Press, 1955), 205-6.

⁴⁵ Toon, Justification and Sanctification, 51-54.

⁴⁶ Martin Luther, Martin Luther’s Basic Theological Writings (ed. Timothy F. Lull; Minneapolis: Fortress, 1989), 156-58.

⁴⁷ Martin Luther, Luther’s Works Vol. 34: Career of the Reformer IV (ed. Lewis W. Spitz; 55 vols.; American ed.; Philadelphia: Muhlenberg Press, 1960), 183.

⁴⁸ LW 34, 178.

⁴⁹ Luther 1989, 600-4.

⁵⁰ Luther 1989, 156.

⁵¹ Toon, Justification and Sanctification, 62.

⁵² Robert Kolb and Timothy J. Wengert, The Book of Concord: The Confessions of the Evangelical Lutheran Church (trans. Charles Arands, Eric Gritsch, Robert Kolb, et. al.; Minneapolis: Fortress, 2000), 39-40.

⁵³ Kolb and Wengert, Book of Concord 39, 41, 57.

⁵⁴ Calvin, Institutes, 738.

⁵⁵ Kolb and Wengert, Book of Concord, 569.

⁵⁶ Kolb and Wengert, Book of Concord, 564.

⁵⁷ Torrance, ‘Justification’, 363.

⁵⁸ Calvin, Institutes, 798.

⁵⁹ F. L. Cross and E. A. Livingstone (eds.), ‘Holiness Movement’, in Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church (3rd ed.; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997), 779.

⁶⁰ Bockmuehl, ‘Sanctification’, 615.

⁶¹ This is the concern of John C. Ryle, Holiness (Welwyn: Evangelical Press, 1979), 16, 113.

⁶² Peterson, Possessed by God, 137.

⁶³ See especially H. George. Anderson, T. Austin Murphy, and Joseph A. Burgess, ‘Justification by Faith (Common Statement)’, in Justification by Faith (ed. H. George Anderson, T. Austin Murphy and Joseph A. Burgess; Lutherans and Catholics in Dialogue VII; Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1985), 13-74; and the Joint Declaration on the Doctrine of Justification (1999) cited in full in Lane, Dialogue.

⁶⁴ Council of Trent, The Canons and Decrees of the Council of Trent (trans. H. J. Schroeder; Rockford: TAN, 1978), 33.

⁶⁵ Council of Trent, 34.

⁶⁶ Hans Küng, Justification: The Doctrine of Karl Barth and a Catholic Reflection (Reissued ed.; London: Burns & Oates, 1981), 199-211; Rahner, Vatican II, 221-23.

⁶⁷ Contra Lane, Dialogue, 152-55.

⁶⁸ Anderson, Common Statement, 73.

⁶⁹ Lane, Dialogue, 248.

⁷⁰ Lane, Dialogue, 252.

⁷¹ Lane, Dialogue, 253.

⁷² John F. MacArthur, Faith Works: The Gospel According to the Apostles (Dallas: Word, 1993), 25-26.

⁷³ Charles C. Ryrie, So Great Salvation: What it Means to Believe in Jesus Christ (Chicago: Moody, 1997).

⁷⁴ Zane C. Hodges, Absolutely Free: a Biblical Reply to Lordship Salvation (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1989).

⁷⁵ MacArthur, Faith Works, 27-28, summarising Ryrie.

⁷⁶ Hodges, Absolutely Free, 143-45.

⁷⁷ Hodges, Absolutely Free, 167-68.

⁷⁸ Ryrie, So Great Salvation, 141-43; Hodges, Absolutely Free, 107-19; cf MacArthur, Faith Works, 27.

⁷⁹ Tom Wright, What Saint Paul Really Said: Was Paul of Tarsus the Real Founder of Christianity? (Oxford: Lion, 1997), 153-57.

⁸⁰ Coined by Dunn: see Mark D. Thompson, ‘Personal Assurance and the New Perspective on Paul’, Reformed Theological Review 53/2 (1994): 73.

⁸¹ Wright, Saint Paul, 114.

⁸² Wright, Saint Paul, 133.

⁸³ James D. G. Dunn, ‘The Justice of God: A Renewed Perspective on Justification by Faith’, Journal of Theological Studies, NS 43/1 (1992): 4-5.

⁸⁴ Dunn, ‘Justice of God’, 4.

⁸⁵ Thompson, ‘Assurance’, 76.

⁸⁶ Wright, Saint Paul, 132, 151-53; see also Dunn, ‘Justice of God’, 15-18.

⁸⁷ Wright, Saint Paul, 117-18, 160; Dunn, ‘Justice of God’, 15-18 makes the same point.

⁸⁸ Thompson, ‘Assurance’, 85.

⁸⁹ Wright, Saint Paul, 121.

⁹⁰ Wright, Saint Paul, 131, emphasis mine.

⁹¹ Wright, Saint Paul, 131, emphasis mine.

⁹² Wright, Saint Paul, 119.

⁹³ Calvin, Institutes, 737.

⁹⁴ Wright, Saint Paul, 143.

⁹⁵ Wright, Saint Paul, 147.

⁹⁶ Robert S. Smith, ‘Justification and Eschatology: A Dialogue with “The New Perspective on Paul”’, Reformed Theological Review Supplement 1 (2001): 132.

⁹⁷ Wright, Saint Paul, 153-57.

⁹⁸ Wright, Saint Paul, 157.

⁹⁹ Wright, Saint Paul, 157-58.

¹⁰⁰ Smith, ‘New Perspective’, 130-31.

¹⁰¹ Wright, Saint Paul, 158-59.

¹⁰² Smith, ‘New Perspective’, 131.

¹⁰³ Smith, ‘New Perspective’, 131.

¹⁰⁴ Wright, Saint Paul, 161-64

‘In my former book, Theophilus, I wrote about all that Jesus began to do and to teach’, writes Luke, at the beginning of his second volume (Acts 1:1, emphasis mine). The implication is that Jesus continued to act and to teach after his ascension (So Köstenberger and O’Brien 2001, 128). So Paul, the dominant figure of the latter part of Acts, is presented as one who continues and fulfils the purposes of the risen Messiah Jesus by means of the Holy Spirit. This principle underlies Paul’s entire apostolic ministry, playing itself out in such areas as the tension between Jew and Gentile mission, practical mission strategies, Paul’s preaching, his understanding of suffering and his final destination.

Paul is no doubt the hero of the book of Acts. He dominates most of the narrative, confident and God-fearing even in the most trying of circumstances (e.g. Acts 28:25), (Bruce 1988, 15–16). The word ‘apostle’ (ἀποστολος) is only used of Paul in one situation, where he shares the title with Barnabas (Acts 14:4, 14), (Clark 1998, 182). However, Luke makes it clear that Paul has been ‘sent’ (ἀποστελλω) by Jesus to perform an important task (e.g. Acts 26:17), (Bruce 1993, 683). Paul shares many characteristics with the Twelve, such as witnessing the risen Lord Jesus (cf. Acts 1:22 and Acts 9:17) and receiving commands from him (cf. Acts 1:2 and Acts 9:6), (Clark 1998, 184–89).

Moreover, Paul’s conversion and commissioning on the Damascus Road occupies a prominent place in the narrative, and is crucial to Luke’s understanding of Paul’s apostolic ministry (Barnett 1993, 50). Luke places this event (ch. 9) just before the start of any truly Gentile mission (chs. 10–11), even though Paul’s own Gentile ministry does not begin in earnest until later (ch. 13). It is thus a significant turning point in the narrative (Everts 1993, 159). The Damascus Road experience is also recalled at length later in the text (Acts 22:1–21 and Acts 26:2–23), where it is retold with different emphases and purposes¹. Linked to the first retelling is an experience in the Jerusalem temple (Acts 22:17–21) where Paul’s mission is made even more urgent and explicit (Blair 1965, 19–26).

What is this commission that defines Paul’s apostolic ministry? Ananias is told:

‘[. . .] he is a chosen instrument of mine to carry my name before the Gentiles and kings and the children of Israel. For I will show him how much he must suffer for the sake of my name.’ (Acts 9:15–16, ESV)

This recalls the commissioning of the suffering servant of the Lord in Isa 49:1–7 at many points. The servant is a chosen instrument, fashioned by the Lord (Isa 49:1–3). He glorifies the Lord before Israel and brings back the preserved remnant of Israel (Isa 49:5–6). Furthermore, he goes to all the nations (Gentiles), the ‘ends of the earth’ (Isa 49:6). Kings and princes shall see and bow down (Isa 49:7). Yet, for the sake of the glorified name of the Lord, this servant also suffers (Isa 49:4), being despised and abhorred by Israel (Isa 49:7).

Paul is thus commissioned to complete the work of Jesus, the suffering Servant of the Lord. Jesus, whose suffering and vindication brought forgiveness of sins and restoration (e.g. Acts 13:38, and see Luke 24:46–47), now sends his apostles, pre-eminently Paul, to announce this forgiveness, to complete the restoration of the preserved children of Israel and to be a light to the Gentiles and the rulers of the whole earth. This task involves suffering; in particular rejection by many from Israel. Hence suffering at the hands of Jews is an essential part of his calling (Hafemann 1993, 919–21), as is Gentile participation in salvation (Köstenberger and O’Brien 2001, 125). Paul makes much of this as he recalls his Damascus Road experience before Festus (Acts 26:16–23). As Hansen (1998, 323–24) observes, ‘Not only was Paul’s mission a continuation of the mission of Jesus because Paul did the work of Christ, but also because Christ did his work through Paul.’

This apostolic ministry of fulfilling the mission of Christ is especially evident as Paul approaches the issue of Jew and Gentile evangelism. Although Paul’s commission unambiguously included a mission to the Gentiles, Paul himself does not inaugurate the opening of faith to the Gentiles (Bowers 1993, 609). It is Peter who preaches to the first truly Gentile convert (Acts 10:1–11:18) and a group of unnamed evangelists who preach en masse to Greeks at Antioch (Acts 11:20). Paul, however, begins his ministry by preaching to Jews at Damascus (Acts 9:19–22) and Jerusalem (Acts 9:26–29) and does not begin a specifically Gentile mission until commissioned at Antioch (Blair 1965, 23–24).

Furthermore, even in his missionary journeys, Paul repeatedly follows a pattern of going first to Jews and then to Gentiles (Tannehill 1986, 130–34). Paul goes to the synagogue first in Salamis (Acts 13:5), Pisidian Antioch (Acts 13:14), Iconium (Acts 14:1), Thessalonica (Acts 17:2), Berea (Acts 17:10), Corinth (Acts 18:4) and Ephesus (Acts 18:19 and Acts 19:8), (Bornkamm 1968, 200). Even in Rome, at the end of Acts, Paul goes to the Jews even though there are Christians already in Rome (Acts 28:17), (Köstenberger and O’Brien 2001, 154). The only exceptions are Lystra, where circumstances are beyond Paul’s control (Acts 14:14), Philippi, where Paul intentionally seeks a ‘place of prayer’ on the Sabbath presumably because there was no synagogue (Acts 16:13), (Bruce 1988, 310–11) and Athens, where Paul preaches to Gentiles while waiting for his co-workers (Acts 17:16). Although the mission is universal, it follows a prescribed order with Jews being given priority (Tannehill 1986, 130). The suggestion that Paul went to Jews only to provoke jealousy and thus further the Gentile mission (Blair 1965, 32) does not hold, since there were significant Jewish conversions, for example at Berea (Acts 17:11–12).

Paul does not call upon his own countrymen to turn away from their Judaism and renounce the law (Bornkamm 1968, 205). Rather, he upholds the law when in the company of Jews. He circumcises Timothy because of the Jews (Acts 16:3), fulfils a vow (Acts 18:18) and is willing to go through a purification ritual to show his approval of the Mosaic Law (Acts 21:20–26). Paul, as the Servant of the Lord, is sent first to the children of Israel, not to turn them into Gentile Christians but to turn them back to their God through his Messiah, Jesus.

Nevertheless, just as Jesus predicted, Israel’s rejection of the Servant is also a consistent pattern. The tension arising from Jewish jealousy of Gentile converts is practically resolved only at Antioch (Acts 11:19–23), (Towner 1998, 422–29). In Corinth and Ephesus, this ‘resolution’ is partial and temporary. The normal pattern is rejection by Jews of Paul’s teaching, especially when the implications for the salvation of Gentiles are spelt out. Paul is rejected by Jews from Pisidian Antioch (Acts 13:45), Iconium (Acts 14:2), Thessalonica (Acts 17:5), Corinth (Acts 18:6), Ephesus (Acts 18:9) and Rome (Acts 28:25). This rejection is often in partnership with Gentiles and is usually violent.

The rejection of the Servant by Israel is not only consistent with the suffering Servant’s task; it also furthers his mission. On three separate occasions, Paul specifically turns to Gentiles after being rejected by Jews: Pisidian Antioch (Acts 13:44–52), Corinth (Acts 18:6–7) and Rome (Acts 28:24–28)². There is a consistent pattern on each occasion. Firstly, Jews reject the word, either reviling Paul or disagreeing with one another. Secondly, Paul speaks of his obligation to go first to the Jews. In Pisidian Antioch he speaks of the ‘necessity’ of Jewish priority (Acts 13:46). In Corinth, he speaks in language reminiscent of the watchman of Ezek 33:4, saying that he has discharged his responsibility and is therefore innocent of their blood (Acts 18:6). In Rome, Paul takes upon himself the command of Isaiah 6 to ‘Go to this people’. Thirdly, having justified his actions from Scripture, Paul announces his intention to go to the Gentiles. God’s prophetic Suffering Servant has discharged his responsibility to the Jews, has suffered at their hands as predicted, and now turns to fulfil his wider mission to Gentiles.

At this point it is worth stating explicitly that Paul’s ministry is theologically driven. Isaiah’s Suffering Servant can provide salvation to the ends of the earth (Isa 49:6) only because he sacrificially bore the sins of the people (Isa 53:4–6). Hence salvation is not contingent upon works of the law, but upon faith in the sacrifice of Jesus, which is open to both Jew and Gentile. This is the only satisfactory theological basis for Paul’s apostolic ministry and Paul refers to it on a number of occasions (Acts 13:38–39, 20:21, 26:18). We cannot say that Paul’s mission (to Gentiles) drove his theology (of justification by faith), since both his mission and his theology are present in the person of Isaiah’s Suffering Servant³. This theology is confirmed by the Jerusalem council (Acts 15:6–11), which is a central turning point in the narrative of Acts. After the apostles of the Jerusalem church confirm the doctrine of justification by faith, Gentile mission is no longer under threat but it is given impetus to flourish and expand (Köstenberger and O’Brien 2001, 151).

How, then, does Paul achieve his mission as the light to the Gentiles? Ramsay (1902) has gathered geographical and historical evidence of a deliberate ‘imperial’ strategy by Paul to render Christianity co-extensive with the Roman Empire. Others disagree, claiming that the Christianisation of the Roman Empire happened by default (Bowers 1993, 612). The book of Acts speaks of a state of affairs where Paul does appear to have a deliberate strategy but this is guided and, in some cases, overruled by the providence of God through the Holy Spirit. Paul plans to revisit the churches of Asia (Acts 15:36), and often seems to move with definite aims in mind (e.g. Acts 14:21, 16:40, 18:1). However, his movements are often directed by circumstances (note the many times he is forced to leave because of opposition) or by the intervention of the Holy Spirit (e.g. Acts 13:2–4, 16:6–7) or by visions from God (Acts 16:9–10, 18:9–10). It is sufficient to conclude that Jesus achieves his purposes through Paul both by Paul’s deliberate planning and by the operation of the Holy Spirit (Bruce 1993, 687). There is a deliberate strategy, but it is the risen Messiah’s strategy before it is Paul’s strategy.

Nevertheless, there are discernible features in the strategy. Paul targets important population centres situated on rapid lines of communication (Bruce 1988, 16–17). Luke mentions the particular strategic value of Philippi (Acts 16:12) and Ephesus (Acts 19:10), not to mention Rome! Paul is often pushing at geographical frontiers (e.g. Acts 16:9–10), (Bowers 1993, 609–10). However, an additional priority for Paul is the strengthening of established churches, both by revisitation (Acts 14:21–23, 15:36, 15:41, 18:22–23) and by residential missions (Acts 18:11, 19:10), (Bowers 1987, 189). The implication is that the work of mission will continue after Paul has left the region, with strong churches founded in strategic areas acting as ‘self-propagating cells’ (Bruce 1993, 687). Paul does not act alone, either; he works side-by-side with people such as Barnabas (Acts 13:2ff), Silas (Acts 15:40ff), Timothy (Acts 16:3ff), Priscilla and Aquila (Acts 18:3ff).

The last quarter of Acts, however, describes Paul adopting a very different strategy. Although the reason for Paul’s trip to Jerusalem may have been to deliver relief for the poor, there is nothing within Acts itself to suggest that this is the reason beyond a possible allusion in 24:17 (Bruce 1988, 371–72). Acts, rather, includes Paul’s Jerusalem trip to further highlight his role as the suffering servant of the Lord. He resolves to go to Jerusalem (Acts 19:21), presses on despite warnings from God himself that he will suffer there (Acts 20:22–23, 21:4, 21:11) and indeed does suffer ‘for the sake of [Jesus’] name’ (9:16)⁴.

That Paul is fulfilling Jesus’ ministry is shown by the remarkable parallels between Jesus’ passion and Paul’s circumstances in Jerusalem. Both set out resolutely for Jerusalem (Luke 9:51, Acts 19:21), send disciples ahead (Luke 9:52, Acts 19:22), predict their suffering (Luke 9:22, Acts 20:22–24), prepare their followers for their ‘departure’ (Luke 21:5–36, Acts 20:13–38), come in front of the crowds in Jerusalem (Luke 22:47–23:25, Acts 21:27–22:29), are accused of leading a rebellion (Luke 22:52, Acts 21:38), are seized by the crowd (Luke 22:54, Acts 21:30), are flogged (Luke 22:63, Acts 22:24) and are falsely accused (Luke 23:2, Acts 21:28). In both cases, Jews stir the crowds (Luke 23:5, Acts 21:28), there is mob rule (Luke 23:18, Acts 22:22), they shout for the accused to die (Luke 23:20, Acts 22:22) and the secular ruler is powerless (Luke 23:24, Acts 22:29). There are trials before the Sanhedrin (Luke 22:66–71, Acts 22:30–23:11), the Governor (Luke 23:1–7, Acts 24:1–25:12) and the King (Luke 23:8–12, Acts 25:13–26:32)⁵.

However, there are also important differences between the two accounts. Jesus, when face to face with earthly rulers, says nothing to defend himself and so goes to his sacrificial death (Luke 22:66–71, 23:3). Paul, however, takes the opportunity afforded by his arrest and trial to defend himself at great length against charges of Jewish apostasy and Roman insurrection (e.g. Acts 25:8, 28:17–18), both of which are important apologetics for Paul (Hansen 1998, 318–19). The real issue, however, is the resurrection of Christ (Acts 23:6, 24:15, 24:21) and in his trials Paul soundly proclaims Jesus’ resurrection and its corollaries to the worldly rulers—the Roman governors (Acts 24:24), the king (Acts 26:27) and indeed all the leaders of the city (Acts 25:23). Furthermore, in line with God’s promise in Acts 23:11, Paul goes to Rome and has the opportunity to testify before Caesar himself. So the Lord’s Servant, through suffering, trials and rejection by his own people, testifies to the name of the Lord and his Christ before ‘kings’ (Isaiah 49:7).

Acts finishes with Paul having achieved his apostolic ministry. Christ has commissioned him and worked through him to achieve his purpose as the Suffering Servant of Isaiah who brings salvation to the children of Israel and to Gentiles. Paul, through suffering and rejection by his own people, has testified to Jews, has seen the gospel strategically planted amongst Gentiles, and has preached the gospel to the kings of the earth. Nevertheless, Acts is open-ended (Rosner 1998, 231). Paul has not yet stood before Caesar, and dangers lie ahead for the church (Acts 20:29–30). As readers of Acts, therefore, we are forced to ask ourselves: What more is to be done to fulfil Paul’s (that is, Jesus’) apostolic ministry?

Footnotes

1 (Everts 1993, 159) shows that Acts 22:1–21 emphasises Paul’s devotion to Judaism, while Acts 26:2–23 emphasises his obedience and suffering (see below).

2 (Tannehill 1986, 133–35) mentions four: Pisidian Antioch, Corinth and Ephesus, then Rome. However, it is not clear that Paul turns away from the Jews completely in Ephesus. He moves next door to a Gentile lecture hall, but the result is that many Jews hear the word (19:8–10)

3 The issue is discussed in (Everts 1993, 156–163) with particular reference to the New Perspective on Paul.

4 Does this explain Colossians 1:24, written from Rome?

5 Other parallels may include both symbolically breaking bread (Luke 22:19, Acts 27:35), and the ‘resurrection’ story of Eutychus (Acts 20:7–12) strategically placed to parallel Jesus’ resurrection prediction (Luke 9:22).

Bibliography

1. Barnett, Paul W. 1993. ‘Apostle’. Pages 45–51 in Dictionary of Paul and his Letters. Edited by Gerald F. Hawthorne and Ralph P. Martin. Downers Grove, Illinois: Intervarsity.
2. Blair, Edward P. 1965. ‘Paul’s Call to the Gentile Mission’. Biblical Research 10: 19–33.
3. Bornkamm, Günther. 1968. ‘The Missionary Stance of Paul in 1 Corinthians 9 and in Acts’. Pages 194–207 in Studies in Luke-Acts. Edited by Leander E. Keck and J. Louis Martyn. London: S.P.C.K.
4. Bowers, Paul. 1987. ‘Fulfilling the Gospel: the Scope of the Pauline Mission’. Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society 30/2: 185–198.
5. Bowers, W. Paul. 1993. ‘Mission’. Pages 608–619 in Dictionary of Paul and his Letters. Edited by Gerald F. Hawthorne and Ralph P. Martin. Downers Grove, Illinois: Intervarsity.
6. Bruce, Frederick F. 1988. The Book of the Acts. Revised edition. New International Commentary on the New Testament. Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans.
7. Bruce, Frederick F. 1993. ‘Paul in Acts and Letters’. Pages 679–692 in Dictionary of Paul and his Letters. Edited by Gerald F. Hawthorne and Ralph P. Martin. Downers Grove, Illinois: Intervarsity.
8. Clark, Andrew C. 1998. ‘The Role of the Apostles’. Pages 169–190 in Witness to the Gospel: the Theology of Acts. Edited by I. Howard Marshall and David Peterson. Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans.
9. Everts, Janet M. 1993. ‘Conversion and Call of Paul’. Pages 156–163 in Dictionary of Paul and his Letters. Edited by Gerald F. Hawthorne and Ralph P. Martin. Downers Grove, Illinois: Intervarsity.
10. Hafemann, Scott J. 1993. ‘Suffering’. Pages 919–921 in Dictionary of Paul and his Letters. Edited by Gerald F. Hawthorne and Ralph P. Martin. Downers Grove, Illinois: Intervarsity.
11. Hansen, G. Walter. 1998. ‘The Preaching and Defence of Paul’. Pages 295–324 in Witness to the Gospel: the Theology of Acts. Edited by I. Howard Marshall and David Peterson. Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans.
12. Köstenberger, Andreas J., and Peter T. O’Brien. 2001. Salvation to the Ends of the Earth: A Biblical Theology of Mission. Edited by Donald A. Carson. New Studies in Biblical Theology 11. Downers Grove, Illinois: Intervarsity.
13. Ramsay, Sir William M. 1902. St Paul the Traveller and the Roman Citizen. 6th Edition. London: Hodder & Stoughton.
14. Rosner, Brian S. 1998. ‘The Progress of the Word’. Pages 215–233 in Witness to the Gospel: the Theology of Acts. Edited by I. Howard Marshall and David Peterson. Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans.
15. Tannehill, Robert C. 1986. ‘Rejection by Jews and Turning to Gentiles: The Pattern of Paul’s Mission in Acts’. Pages 130–141 in Society of Biblical Literature Seminar Papers 1986. Edited by Kent Harold Richards. Atlanta, Georgia: Scholars Press.
16. Towner, Philip H. 1998. ‘Mission Practice and Theology Under Construction (Acts 18–20)’. Pages 417–436 in Witness to the Gospel: the Theology of Acts. Edited by I. Howard Marshall and David Peterson. Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans.