08.03.17. Note G—Page 73

Note G—Page 73 The Reserve of Scripture on the Subject of the Nature of Faith. The remarks made in a preceding note (D) may be considered as applicable here; especially those which relate to the difference between a direct and a reflex act of the mind, and the imperfection of language as the vehicle or instrument of these two acts respectively. The chief embarrassment, indeed, on this question as to the nature of faith, would seem to arise from this cause. It is remarkable, accordingly, that Scripture says very little, if anything, on the subject. The object of faith is set forth—Christ, in all the glory of his mediatorial person, the fulness of his mediatorial work, and the freeness of his mediatorial ministry of reconciliation; the motives to faith are urged; the warrants of faith are spread out; the blessed fruits of faith, in the peace and joy of a believing soul, are traced, as well as its holy issues and evidences, in a life of new obedience. But as to the nature of the act itself, there is no analysis in Scripture that seeks to reach it. It is assumed that men know what believing or trusting means. That a more rigid and subtle scrutiny has been rendered necessary by the accumulation of errors on every side, may be admitted. At the same time, we may be allowed to regret that such a necessity should have arisen; and we cannot but fear that it may have led some to carry the process too far. Thus, on the one hand, the enumeration of so many different kinds of faith as some divines have been wont to distinguish—such as historical faith, the faith of miracles, temporary faith, saving faith, &c.—has undoubtedly tended to perplex; while, on the other hand, the attempt to simplify the whole matter, by reducing all to one, has, perhaps, created that very appearance of over- refinement which it was meant to remedy. For, after all, the belief of a statement which is abstractly or independently, true, whether I believe it or not, is a different thing from the belief of a statement which becomes true through some process of conviction, or concurrence, or consent, on my part; and it is different, also, from the process itself on which the truth of a statement of this latter kind turns. There is thus a sort of tertium quid, an intermediate something, between the belief of the one kind of statement and that of the other, which it seems vain to attempt to reduce into the form of a categorical proposition. That Christ is the Son of God and Saviour of sinners, is a clear announcement; that he is my Saviour is a clear announcement also. But the former is true, as a matter of fact, whether I believe or not; the latter becomes true, as a matter of fact, only upon my believing. Does not this seem to prove that my believing, standing as it does between the two announcements, and forming the stepping-stone from the former announcement to the latter, is different from the belief of either the one or the other? But no categorical proposition can possibly be framed between these two: He saveth sinners; and, He saveth me. Must not that faith, therefore, of which we are in search, be an act or exercise of the mind, such as cannot be expressed in any formula of the naked intellect? For the intellect cannot turn the contingent (which alone comes between the two propositions) into the categorical—which really is the present problem; there must, therefore, be some other function—call it trust, or confidence, or persuasion, or assurance, or consent, or what you will—to translate, He saveth sinners who believe, into, He saveth me.