08.03.08. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Faith—Its warrant—Hypothesis of a postponed Atonement, as illustrative of the warrant of faith, in connection with particular redemption THE supposition which we ventured to throw out, at the close of the last paper, is one which we are inclined to resume, and which, unless we are mistaken, may he found to carry in its bosom, or in its train, not a few of the elementary truths needed, for a settlement of this whole dispute.

Let it be assumed, then, that instead of being accomplished during the fifth millennium of man’s existence in the world, the incarnation, obedience, death, and resurrection of Christ, stood postponed till the end of all; and that now, with a fuller revelation, perhaps, than the Old Testament saints had, of the precise nature of the ordained and appointed salvation, we were, like them, in the position of expectation, looking forward to the work of atonement, as still to come. This cannot be regarded as a presumptuous or irreverent supposition. For certain purposes, and in a certain view, the death of Christ is ante-dated in Scripture, and He is spoken of as “the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world.” (Revelation 13:8) It is no bold fiction, or mere figure of speech, that thus assigns an era to this event, so remote from that of history. The truth is, the event itself, like the Godhead concerned in it—the everlasting Father ordaining and accepting, the only begotten Son undertaking and accomplishing, and the eternal Spirit sealing and applying it—is “the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever.” It has properly, therefore, no date; and if, on this principle, it may he held to have taken place “from before the foundation of the world,” it is not doing any violence to its reality, or taking any undue liberty with its sacredness, to conceive of it as delayed till the world’s close. In fact, we may thus test, to speak with reverence, the precise import of the cross, by planting it at different epochs in the lapse of ages, and observing what one aspect it invariably presents—what one voice or utterance it uniformly gives forth.

We are to conceive, therefore, of the atonement as still future; and we are to inquire how far, and in what way, this conception of it may seem at all to throw light on some of the various questions which have been raised regarding it, especially on those which relate to the offer of salvation, on the part of God, and the acceptance of it, on the part of the sinner.

Thus, in the first place, let the gospel offer be viewed in connection with an atonement yet to be made; as preceding, not following, the actual accomplishment of redemption; and let us see if, either in its freeness or in its fulness, it is at all affected by the transposition. The freeness of the offer, as an offer made in good faith, unreservedly and unconditionally to all, might seem at first sight to be, in this way, more clearly, intelligibly, and satisfactorily brought out than on the present footing; an air of greater contingency is imparted to the whole transaction; room is left, as it were, and opportunity is reserved, to use a Scottish legal phrase, to “add and eke;” the promised and still future atonement beheld afar off, bulks in the sinner’s eye as a provision or scheme of grace capable of expansion and of adjustment, which, if more should ultimately be found willing to be embraced in it than were from the first anticipated, may yet be made so much wider as to take them in; and, in short, it appears possessed of an elastic capacity of enlargement, instead of being fixed, stereotyped, and confined. But, even on this theory, it would be no general or universal atonement; nor any general or universal reference in the atonement, that the sinner would be encouraged to look forward to, or that he would feel to be suitable to his case. On the contrary, to preserve the integrity and good faith of the offer, in respect of its fulness as well as its freeness—to give it, in fact, any worth or value—it must even then be an offer connected with a limited atonement after all. For what, in the case supposed, must be the actual benefit freely presented to all? What must be the assurance given? How must the tenor of the gospel message run? Surely to this effect: that whosoever, understanding and approving of the divine plan, yet to be accomplished, gave his consent and avowed his willingness to acquiesce in it, might rely on finding himself comprehended at last in a work of propitiation and substitution adequate to the expiation of all his sins, and the complete fulfilment of all righteousness on his behalf; on the faith of which atonement, yet in prospect, he might, by anticipation, be presently accepted in the Beloved, and have peace in believing, and joy in the Holy Ghost. Still, most manifestly, the offer made to him must be the offer of an interest in a limited atonement. Explaining to such a one, in such circumstances, the principle of this method of salvation, its bearing on the honour of the divine character, and its adaptation to the necessities of the sinner’s condition, you would set before him the Saviour hereafter to be revealed; and enlarging on the dignity and wondrous mystery of his person, the depth of his humiliation, the merit of his voluntary obedience, the infinite value of his penal sufferings and death—all as yet future—what would you say next? or how would you seek to apply all this to the hearer or the inquirer himself? Would you tell him of any general references and aspects in this vast mediatorial undertaking? Would you speak of any universal, or vague, or indefinite relation which, in all this work, the Saviour was appointed, or might be held, to sustain to mankind at large? Nay, would you not be prompt and eager to disavow all such generalities, and to fix and fasten on the very limitation of the work, as the precise feature in it to which it was most important to give heed? It is to be all, you would say, a work of suretyship, in the strictest sense, and of suretyship exclusively; He who is to finish it—is in the undertaking and accomplishing of it, to sustain no relation whatever to any but his own people: he is so literally to identify himself with them, and them with himself, that all their sin is to be his, and all his righteousness is to be theirs; and it is in no other character than that of their representative, and with no reference to any but them, that he is to pour out his soul as an offering for sin. If you held the doctrine of the atonement at all, you could not fail, in the circumstances which we have supposed, to announce it to sinners of mankind, in some such terms as we have indicated. And you would do so without embarrassment. You would feel no difficulty in preaching such a gospel, then; and you would hold it to be the freest and fullest of all possible offers or proclamations, that you made, when pointing to this atonement, which you confessed, or rather boasted, would be a restricted atonement—from its very nature a restricted, because a real and effectual, atonement—you summoned all men everywhere to believe and be saved.

Now, how is this to be accounted for? How is it that, on the supposition of the atonement being yet future, it would seem so much easier to reconcile the universality of the gospel offer with the restriction or limitation of Christ’s work, than on the other supposition, which has now been realized, and become matter of fact, of its being a transaction already past? It were well, we cannot but think, if this question were seriously pondered; for we have a deep persuasion that it might arrest not a few earnest and inquisitive minds, who, having got entangled in the difficulties in which this subject is involved, as it touches the throne of God (which clouds and darkness must ever surround), are seeking relief and a door of escape, in the other direction, by taking liberties with it at the point at which it touches the hearts and consciences of men. This inquiry which we have now suggested might show them whither they are tending, and what is but too likely to be the issue of that state of mind which they are cherishing. For, what makes the difference between the two cases, as we have put them—the hypothetical and the actual? Or, is there any real difference? None whatever, unless you introduce the element of contingency. We have already observed that there is the appearance of this contingency in the view of a postponed, more than in that of a past, atonement—that the former seems to leave more scope and room than the latter for the discretionary exercise of divine grace, and the free play of the human will. But, unless there be the reality, as well as the appearance, of this greater contingency, under the economy of a postponed, rather than of a past, atonement, the ease or relief which one feels in passing, in imagination, from the one to the other, is wholly delusive, and is such, moreover, as to indicate a very dangerous turn of thought, and a sort of embryo-heretical pravity of disposition. For, let me interrogate myself: Am I conscious that I find it a simpler thing, and less revolting to my natural understanding, to conceive of Christ’s work as undertaken and accomplished for his people alone, when I try to view it prospectively, than when I look upon it in the way of retrospect? What makes it so? It must be some lurking idea, that, under the former system, matters are not quite so fixed as under the latter. Ah! then, it is really electing love and sovereign efficacious grace that I must get rid of; for, if the eternal decree of election, and the utter impotency of man without a sovereign operation of grace within him, be held equally under both systems, there is really no more uncertainty or capability of enlargement under the one than under the other. It is high time for me, on seeing this, to stop short, lest I find myself carried on, as so many have been, along this fatally inclined plane, from less to more, to a denial of special grace altogether. For thus men, leaning to unsound views, improve one upon another; and, following out more and more fearlessly the legitimate consequences of incipient error, they come boldly to proclaim an extent of aberration from the truth, from which they, or their masters, would once have recoiled. Hence, what germinates as an isolated and uncongenial anomaly, on the surface of some otherwise well-cultivated mind—springing out of some peculiar influence that does not, perhaps, materially affect the general crop of good grain and abundant spiritual fruit—grows, in course of time, and spreads and swells out, till all the fair foliage is choked, and the sound seed is well-nigh expelled from the soil. For, as in the case before us, when a man seeking relief from the perplexity of the one great insoluble problem, thinks he has found it in denying or explaining away the limited extent of the atonement—and when he finds, as he, or his disciple, bettering his example, will soon do, that the relief, so long as he stops short there, is but delusive and apparent—the same impatience of mystery or difficulty which unsettled his views at first, carries him on a step further, until nearly all that is peculiar and precious, either in God’s love, or in Christ’s work, or in the Spirit’s grace, is sacrificed to the demand which men vainly make for a gospel that may enable them to save themselves, instead of that which announces the salvation of God.

But, to return from this digression, we may ask, on the other hand, if the putting of this case, as to the supposed postponement of Christ’s work, should not go far to satisfy those who object to the doctrine of a limited atonement, on the ground of its alleged inconsistency with the good faith of a universal gospel offer, that this objection, at least, is really groundless? You perceive that, if the work of Christ were yet to be accomplished, it would fall to be announced as a work restricted to those who should then be found to constitute the entire number of his believing people. That number being supposed to be made up, previous to his coming in the flesh, you would never dream of his death being anything more than an atonement for their sins, and the bringing in of a perfect righteousness on their behalf. You might say, indeed, that meanwhile, the fact of that death being, if we may so speak, due, was one in which not only those ultimately saved, but the world at large, had an interest; inasmuch as it procured for all, that season of providential forbearance, together with those universal calls, and influences, and opportunities of grace, which otherwise would not have been vouchsafed to any. This, however, as you must at once see, on the supposition now made, would appear to be plainly a consequence, not of his death on the cross, but of his being destined to die; or, in other words, it would be evidently connected, not with the proper virtue or efficacy of his atonement at all, but simply with its certainty, as an event yet to occur. Were it to turn out, at last, that only a single individual had been persuaded and enabled to become a believer in the promised Saviour, so that he needed to lay down his life for none, save for that single individual alone, still the appointment of his death, though restricted, in its references to one solitary soul, would be a sufficient explanation of the forbearance granted to all, and the offer, made to all; for still, all along, and even at the very instant of his ascending the cross, all might be most honestly assured, that if they were but willing, their sins also would be expiated on the tree. We might thus conceive of the Redeemer as standing, from generation to generation, among the successive millions of the children of men—testifying to them all that he has been ordained to become the substitute of all sinners, without exception, who choose to accept of him in that capacity, and that he delays the execution of the work he has to do till the end of all things, for the express purpose of allowing full time to all to make their choice. The announcement he has to make is, from the very nature of the case, the announcement of a limited atonement: the decease which he is to accomplish, as he must in faithfulness warn them all, is to have no general reference whatsoever: he is not in any sense to obey, or suffer, or die, for any but his own people: the efficacy of his propitiation, as well as its design, is to be strictly and exclusively theirs: and still, as age after age rolls on, may he be seen, down to the last moment, plying each one of the mighty multitude of the guilty, almost lingering as he takes his appointed place under the broken law and the impending curse—Thy surety, also, would I gladly be, if thou wouldst suffer me, thine, as well as this thy neighbour’s, who was not less guilty than thou; thy sins would I willingly bear, as well as his; yet once more consider, ere I go on my heavy and bloody work, shall I go in thy stead, as well as in his?—as substitute for thee, as well as for him? Choose before it be too late— Would this be a free gospel? Would this be an honest universal offer? It is connected, you perceive, with a limited atonement. Would it be of any value if it were not? And does the accident of date so alter the essential nature of this great transaction—in which the parties are that eternal Father, who seeth the end from the beginning, and that well beloved Son, who is the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever—as to make the restriction of it to his own people less consistent with a universal offer when it is set forth as past, than it would be, if announced as still future? Surely, if such an impression at any time prevail, one may say, in all humility, with the Psalmist: “This is my infirmity; but I will remember the years of the right hand of the Most High.” (Psalms 77:10)