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Christianity
& Liberalism
by J.
Gresham Machen (1881-1937)
Important Notice:
Christianity
& Liberalism, published in 1923, was set to become public domain on Jan 1,
1999. Unfortunately, however, on October 27th 1998 a new law went into
effect (see below), extending the copyright of any work still under protection
for an additional 20 years. Thus the book has been removed from this
site. As a replacement, we have reproduced
an essay Machen wrote on the same topic, published in 1922.
Public Law 105-298: Under the law in effect before 1978,
copyright was secured either on the date a work was published with a copyright
notice or on the date of registration if the work was registered in unpublished
form. In either case, the copyright endured for a first term of 28 years from
the date it was secured. During the last (28th) year of the first term, the
copyright was eligible for renewal. The Copyright Act of 1976 extended the
renewal term from 28 to 47 years for copyrights that were subsisting on January
1, 1978, or for pre-1978 copyrights restored under the Uruguay Round Agreements
Act (URAA), making these works eligible for a total term of protection of 75
years. Public Law 105-298, enacted on October 27, 1998, further extended the
renewal term of copyrights still subsisting on that date by an additional 20
years, providing for a renewal term of 67 years and a total term of protection
of 95 years.
Liberalism or Christianity?
by
J. Gresham Machen (1881-1937)
An address delivered, in
substance, in the Wayne Presbyterian Church, Wayne, Pennsylvania, November 3,
1921, before the Twenty- Eighth Annual Convention of the Ruling Elders'
Association of Chester Presbytery, on the subject, "The Present Attack
against the Fundamentals of our Christian Faith, from the Point of View of
Colleges and Seminaries." Originally published in The
Princeton Theological Review, Vol. 20,
1922, Machen later turned this short
essay into a manuscript which was published in 1923 under the title: Christianity
& Liberalism (Macmillan, 1923). This
article, however, is now in the public domain (original pagination has been
kept intact for purposes of reference). This electronic edition was scanned and
edited by Shane Rosenthal for Reformation Ink.
THE
PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL REVIEW, Vol. 20, 1922, Page 93
The attack upon the
fundamentals of the Christian faith is not a matter merely of theological
seminaries and universities. It is being carried on vigorously by Sunday School
"lesson-helps," by the pulpit, and by the religious press. The
remedy, therefore, is not to be found in the abolition of theological
seminaries, or the abandonment of scientific theology, but rather in a more
earnest search after truth and a more loyal devotion to it when once it is
found.
At the
seminaries and universities, the roots of the great issue are more clearly seen
than in the world at large; among students the reassuring employment of traditional
phrases is often abandoned, and the advocates of a new religion are not at
pains, as they are in the Church at large, to maintain a pretence of conformity
with the past. In discussing the attack against the fundamentals of
Christianity "from the point of view of colleges and seminaries,"
therefore, we are simply discussing the root of the matter instead of its mere
superficial manifestations. What, at bottom, when the traditional phrases have
all been stripped away, is the real meaning of the present revolt against
historic Christianity?
That revolt,
manifold as are its manifestations, is a fairly unitary phenomenon. It may all
be subsumed under the general head of "naturalism"—that is, the
denial of any entrance of the creative power of God (in distinction from the
ordinary course of nature) in connection with the origin of Christianity. The
word "naturalism" is here used in a sense somewhat different from its
philosophical meaning. In this non-philosophical sense it describes with fair
accuracy the real root of what is called, by a common
THE
PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL REVIEW, Vol. 20, 1922, Page 94
degradation of
an originally noble word, "liberal" religion. What then, in brief,
are the teachings of modern liberalism, as over against the teachings of
Christianity?
At the outset,
we are met with an objection. "Teachings," it is said, are
unimportant; the exposition of the teachings of liberalism and the teachings of
Christianity, therefore, can arouse no interest at the present day; creeds are
merely the changing expression of a unitary Christian experience, and provided
only they express that experience they are all equally good.
Whether this
objection be well-founded or not, the real meaning of it should at least be
faced. And that meaning is perfectly plain. The objection involves an
out-and-out skepticism. If all creeds are equally true, then since they are
contradictory to one another, they are all equally false, or at least equally
uncertain. We are indulging therefore in a mere juggling with words. To say
that all creeds are equally true, and that they are based upon experience, is
merely to fall back upon that agnosticism which fifty years ago was regarded as
the deadliest enemy of the Church. The enemy has not really been changed into a
friend merely because he has been received within the camp. Very different is
the Christian conception of a creed. According to the Christian conception, a
creed is not based upon Christian experience, but on the contrary it is a
setting forth of those facts upon which experience is based.
But, it will be
said, Christianity is a life, not a doctrine. The assertion is often made, and
it has an appearance of godliness. But it is radically false, and to detect its
falsity one does not need to be a Christian. For to say that "Christianity
is a life" is to make an assertion in the sphere of history. The assertion
does not lie in the sphere of ideals; it is far different from saying that
Christianity ought to be a life, or that the ideal religion is a life. The
assertion that Christianity is a life is subject to historical investigation
exactly as is the assertion that the Roman Empire under Nero was a free
democracy. Possibly the Roman Empire
THE
PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL REVIEW, Vol. 20, 1922, Page 95
under Nero
would have been better if it had been a free democracy, but the historical
question is simply whether as a matter of fact it was a free democracy or no.
Christianity is an historical phenomenon, like the Roman Empire, or the Kingdom
of Prussia, or the United States of America. And as an historical phenomenon it
must be investigated on the basis of historical evidence.
Is it true,
then, that Christianity is not a doctrine but a life? The question can be
settled only by an examination of the beginnings of Christianity. Recognition
of that fact does not involve any acceptance of Christian belief; it is merely
a matter of common sense and common honesty. At the foundation of the life of
every corporation is the incorporation paper, in which the objects of the
corporation are set forth. Other objects may be vastly more desirable than
those objects, but if the directors use the name and the resources of the
corporation to pursue the other objects they are acting "ultra vires"
of the corporation. So it is with Christianity. It is perfectly conceivable
that the originators of the Christian movement had no right to legislate for
subsequent generations; but at any rate they did have an inalienable right to
legislate for all generations that should choose to bear the name of
"Christian." It is conceivable that Christianity may now have to be
abandoned, and another religion substituted for it; but at any rate the
question what Christianity is can be determined only by an examination of the
beginnings of Christianity.
The beginnings
of Christianity constitute a fairly definite historical phenomenon. The
Christian movement originated a few days after the death of Jesus of Nazareth.
It is doubtful whether anything that preceded the death of Jesus can be called
Christianity. At any rate, if Christianity existed before that event, it was
Christianity only in a preliminary stage. The name originated after the death
of Jesus, and the thing itself was also something new. Evidently there was an
important new beginning among the disciples of Jesus in Jerusalem after the
crucifixion. At that
THE
PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL REVIEW, Vol. 20, 1922, Page 96
time is to be
placed the beginning of the remarkable movement which spread out from Jerusalem
into the Gentile world—the movement which is called Christianity.
About the early
stages of this movement definite historical information has been preserved in
the Epistles of Paul, which are regarded by all serious historians as genuine
products of the first Christian generation. The writer of the Epistles had been
in direct communication with those intimate friends of Jesus who had begun the
Christian movement in Jerusalem, and in the Epistles he makes it abundantly
plain what the fundamental character of the movement was.
But if any one
fact is clear, on the basis of this evidence, it is that the Christian movement
at its inception was not just a way of life in the modern sense, but a way of
life founded upon a message. It is perfectly clear that the first Christian
missionaries did not simply come forward with exhortation; they did not say:
"Jesus of Nazareth lived a wonderful life of filial piety, and we call
upon you our hearers to yield yourselves as we have done to the spell of that
life." Certainly that is what modern historians would have expected the
first Christian missionaries to say, but it must be recognized at least that as
a matter of fact they said nothing of the kind. They came forward, not merely
with an exhortation or with a program, but with a message,—with an account of
something that had happened a short time before. "Christ died for our
sins," they said, "according to the Scriptures; he was buried; he has
been raised on the third day according to the Scriptures."
This message,
even the small excerpt from it quoted by Paul in 1Cor. 15:3ff., contains two
elements—it contains (1) the facts and (2) the meaning of the facts ("for
our sins"). The narration of the facts is history; the setting forth of
the meaning of the facts is doctrine. These two elements are always contained
in the Christian message. "Suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified,
dead and buried"-that is history. "He loved me and gave himself
THE
PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL REVIEW, Vol. 20, 1922, Page 97
for
me"—that is doctrine. Without these two elements, inextricably
intertwined, there is no Christianity.
The character
of primitive Christianity, as founded upon a message, is summed up in the words
of the eighth verse of the first chapter of Acts—"Ye shall be my witnesses
both in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and unto the uttermost part of
the earth." It is entirely unnecessary, for the present purpose, to argue
about the historical value of the Book of Acts or to discuss the question
whether Jesus really spoke the words just quoted. In any case the verse must be
recognized as an adequate summary of what is known about primitive
Christianity. From the beginning Christianity was a campaign of witnessing. And
the witnessing did not concern merely what Jesus was doing within the recesses
of the individual life. To take the words of Acts in that way is to do violence
to the context and to all the evidence. On the contrary, the Epistles of Paul
and all the sources make it abundantly plain that the testimony was primarily
not to inner spiritual facts but to what Jesus had done once for all in His
death and resurrection.
Christianity is
based, then, upon an account of something that happened, and the Christian
worker is primarily a witness. But if so, it is rather important that the
Christian worker should tell the truth. When a man takes his seat upon the
witness stand, it makes little difference what the cut of his coat is, or
whether his sentences are nicely turned. The important thing is that he tell
the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. If we are to be truly
Christians, then, it does make a vast difference what our teachings are, and it
is by no means aside from the point to set forth the teachings of Christianity
in contrast with the teachings of the chief modern rival of Christianity.
The chief
modern rival of Christianity is "liberalism." An examination of the
teachings of liberalism will show that at every point the liberal movement is
in opposition to the Christian message. That examination will now be
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PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL REVIEW, Vol. 20, 1922, Page 98
undertaken,
though necessarily in a summary and cursory way. 1
Christianity,
it has already been observed, is based upon an account of something that
happened in the first century of our era. But before that account can be received,
certain presuppositions must be accepted. These presuppositions consist in what
is believed first about God, and second about man. With regard to the
presuppositions, as with regard to the message itself, modern liberalism is
diametrically opposed to Christianity.
It is opposed
to Christianity, in the first place, in its conception of God. But at this
point we are met with a particularly insistent form of that objection to
doctrinal matters which has already been considered. It is unnecessary, we are
told, to have a "conception" of God; theology, or the knowledge of
God, is the death of religion; we should not seek to know God, but should
merely feel His presence.
With regard to
this objection, it ought to be observed that if religion consists merely in feeling
the presence of God, it is devoid of any moral quality whatever. Pure feeling,
if there be such a thing, is non-moral. What makes affection for a human
friend, for example, such an ennobling thing is the knowledge which we possess
of the character of our friend. Human affection, apparently so simple, is
really just bristling with dogma. It depends upon a host of observations
treasured up in the mind with regard to the character of our friend. But if
human affection is thus really dependent upon knowledge, why should it be
otherwise with that supreme personal relationship which is at the basis of
religion? Why should we be indignant against slanders directed against a human
friend, while at the same time we are patient about the basest slanders directed
against our God? Certainly it does make the greatest possible difference what
we think about God.
In the
Christian view of God as set forth in the Bible,
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PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL REVIEW, Vol. 20, 1922, Page 99
there are many
elements. But one attribute of God is absolutely fundamental in the Bible; one
attribute is absolutely necessary in order to render intelligible all the rest.
That attribute is the awful transcendence of God. From beginning to end the
Bible is concerned to set forth the awful gulf that separates the creature from
the Creator. It is true, indeed, that according to the Bible God is immanent in
the world. Not a sparrow falls to the ground without Him. But he is immanent in
the world not because He is identified with the world, but because He is the
free Creator and Upholder of it. Between the creature and the Creator a great
gulf is fixed.
In modern
liberalism, on the other hand, this sharp distinction between God and the world
is broken down, and the name "God" is applied to the mighty world
process itself. We find ourselves in the midst of a mighty process, which
manifests itself in the indefinitely small and in the indefinitely great—in the
infinitesimal life which is revealed through the microscope and in the vast
movements of the heavenly spheres. To this world-process, of which we ourselves
form a part, we apply the dread name of "God." God, therefore, it is
said in effect, is not a person distinct from ourselves; on the contrary our
life is a part of His. Thus the Gospel story of the Incarnation, according to
modern liberalism, is sometimes thought of as a symbol of the general truth
that man at his best is one with God.
It is strange
how such a representation can be regarded as anything new, for as a matter of
fact, pantheism is a very ancient phenomenon. And modern liberalism, even when
it is not consistently pantheistic, is at any rate pantheizing. It tends
everywhere to break down the separateness between God and the world, and the
sharp personal distinction between God and man. Even the sin of man on this
view ought logically to be regarded as part of the life of God. Very different
is the living and holy God of the Bible and of Christian faith.
Christianity
differs from liberalism, then, in the first
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PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL REVIEW, Vol. 20, 1922, Page 100
place, in its
conception of God. But it also differs in its conception of man. Modern
liberalism has lost all sense of the gulf that separates the creature from the
Creator; its doctrine of man follows naturally from its doctrine of God. But it
is not only the creature limitations of mankind which are denied. Far more
important is another difference. According to the Bible, man is a sinner under
the just condemnation of God; according to modern liberalism, there is really
no such thing as sin. At the very root of the modern liberal movement is the
loss of the consciousness of sin. 2
The
consciousness of sin was formerly the starting-point of all preaching; but
today it is gone. Characteristic of the modern age, above all else, is a
supreme confidence in human goodness; the religious literature of the day is
redolent of that confidence. Get beneath the rough exterior of men, we are
told, and we shall discover enough self-sacrifice to found upon it the hope of
society; the world's evil, it is said, can be overcome with the world's good;
no help is needed from outside the world.
What has
produced this satisfaction with human goodness? What has become of the
consciousness of sin? The consciousness of sin has certainly been lost. But
what has removed it from the hearts of men?
In the first
place, the war has perhaps had something to do with the change. In time of war,
our attention is called so exclusively to the sins of other people that we are
some-times inclined to forget our own sins. Attention to the sins of other
people is, indeed, sometimes necessary. It is quite right to be indignant
against any oppression of the weak which is being carried on by the strong. But
such a habit of mind, if made permanent, if carried over into the days of
peace, has its dangers. It joins forces with the collectivism of the modern
state to obscure the individual, personal
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PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL REVIEW, Vol. 20, 1922, Page 101
character of
guilt. If John Smith beats his wife nowadays, no one is so old-fashioned as to
blame John Smith for it. On the contrary, it is said, John Smith is evidently
the victim of some more of that Bolshevistic propaganda; Congress ought to be
called in extra session in order to take up the case of John Smith in an alien
and sedition law.
But the loss of
the consciousness of sin is far deeper than the war; it has its roots in a
mighty spiritual process which has been active during the past seventy-five
years. Like other great movements, that process has come silently, so silently
that its results have been achieved before the plain man was even aware of what
was taking place. Nevertheless, despite all superficial Continuity, a
remarkable change has come about within the last seventy-five years. The change
is nothing less than the substitution of paganism for Christianity as the
dominant view of life. Seventy-five years ago, Western civilization, despite
inconsistencies, was still predominantly Christian; today it is predominantly
pagan.
In speaking of
"paganism," we are not using a term of reproach. Ancient Greece was
pagan, but it was glorious, and the modern world has not even begun to equal
its achievements. What, then, is paganism? The answer is not really difficult.
Paganism is that view of life which finds the highest goal of human existence
in the healthy and harmonious and joyous development of existing human
faculties. Very different is the Christian ideal. Paganism is optimistic with
regard to unaided human nature, whereas Christianity is the religion of the
broken heart.
In saying that
Christianity is the religion of the broken heart, we do not mean that
Christianity ends with the broken heart; we do not mean that the characteristic
Christian attitude is a continual beating on the breast or a continual crying
of "Woe is me." Nothing could be further from the fact. On the
contrary, Christianity means that sin is faced once for all, and then is cast,
by the grace of God, forever into the depths of the sea. The trouble with
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PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL REVIEW, Vol. 20, 1922, Page 102
the paganism of
ancient Greece, as with the paganism of modern times, was not in the
superstructure, which was glorious, but in the foundation which was rotten.
There was always something to be covered up; the enthusiasm of the architect
was maintained only by ignoring the disturbing fact of sin. In Christianity, on
the other hand, nothing needs to be covered up. The fact of sin is faced
resolutely once for all, and is removed by the grace of God. But then, after sin
has been removed by the grace of God, the Christian can proceed to develop
joyously every faculty that God has given him. Such is the higher Christian
humanism—a humanism founded not upon human pride but upon divine grace.
But although
Christianity does not end with the broken heart, it does begin with the broken
heart; it begins with the consciousness of sin. Without the consciousness of
sin, the whole of the gospel will seem to be an idle tale. But how can the
consciousness of sin be revived? Something no doubt can be accomplished by the
proclamation of the law of God, for the law reveals transgressions. The whole
of the law, morever, should be proclaimed. It will hardly be wise to adopt the
suggestion (recently offered among many suggestions as to the ways in which we
shall have to modify our message in order to retain the allegiance of the
returning soldiers) that we must stop treating the little sins as though they
were big sins. That suggestion means apparently that we must not worry too much
about the little sins, but must let them remain unmolested. With regard to such
an expedient, it may perhaps be suggested that in the moral battle we are
fighting against a very resourceful enemy, who does not reveal the position of
his guns by desultory artillery action when he plans a great attack. In the
moral battle, as in the Great European War, the quiet sectors are usually the
most dangerous. It is through the "little sins" that Satan gains an
entrance into our lives. Probably, therefore, it will be prudent to watch all
sectors of the front and lose no time about introducing the unity of command.
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PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL REVIEW, Vol. 20, 1922, Page 103
But if the
consciousness of sin is to be produced, the law of God must be proclaimed in
the lives of Christian people as well as in word. It is quite useless for the
preacher to breathe out fire and brimstone from the pulpit, if at the same time
the occupants of the pews go on taking sin very lightly and being content with
the moral standards of the world. The rank and file of the Church must do their
part in so proclaiming the law of God by their lives that the secrets of men's
hearts shall be revealed.
All these
things, however, are in themselves quite insufficient to produce the
consciousness of sin. The more one observes the condition of the Church, the
more one feels obliged to confess that the conviction of sin is a great
mystery, which can be produced only by the Spirit of God. Proclamation of the
law, in word and in deed, can prepare for the experience, but the experience
itself comes from God. When a man has that experience, when a man comes under
the conviction of sin, his whole attitude toward life is transformed; he
wonders at his former blindness, and the message of the gospel, which formerly
seemed to be an idle tale, becomes now instinct with light. But it is God alone
who can produce the change.
Only, let us
not try to do without the Spirit of God. The fundamental fault of the modern
Church is that she is busily engaged in an impossible task—she is busily
engaged in calling the righteous to repentance. Modern preachers are trying to
bring men into the Church without requiring them to relinquish their pride;
they are trying to help men avoid the conviction of sin. The preacher gets up
into the pulpit, opens the Bible, and addresses the congregation somewhat as
follows: "You people are very good," he says; "you respond to
every appeal that looks toward the welfare of the community. Now we have in the
Bible—especially in the life of Jesus—something so good that we believe it is
good enough even for you good people." Such is modern preaching. It is
heard every Sunday in thousands of pulpits. But it is entirely futile. Even our
Lord did not call
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PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL REVIEW, Vol. 20, 1922, Page 104
the righteous
to repentance, and probably we shall be no more successful than He.
Modern
liberalism, then, has lost sight of the two great presuppositions of the
Christian message—the living God, and the fact of sin. The liberal doctrine of
God and the liberal doctrine of man are both diametrically opposite to the
Christian view. But the divergence concerns not only the presuppositions of the
message, but also the message itself.
According to
the Christian view, the Bible contains an account of a revelation from God to
man, which is found nowhere else. It is true, the Bible also contains a
confirmation and a wonderful enrichment of the revelations which are given also
by the things that God has made and by the conscience of man. "The heavens
declare the glory of God; and the firmament showeth his handywork"—these
words are a confirmation of the revelation of God in nature; "all have
sinned and fall short of the glory of God"—these words are a confirmation
of what is attested by the conscience. But in addition to such reaffirmations
of what might conceivably be learned elsewhere—as a matter of fact, because of
men's blindness, even so much is learned elsewhere only in comparatively
obscure fashion—the Bible also contains an account of a revelation which is absolutely
new. That new revelation concerns the way by which sinful man can come into
communion with the living God.
The way was
opened, according to the Bible, by an act of God, when, almost nineteen hundred
years ago, outside the walls of Jerusalem, the eternal Son was offered as a
sacrifice for the sins of men. To that one great event the whole Old Testament
looks forward, and in that one event the whole of the New Testament finds its
centre and core. Salvation then, according to the Bible, is not something that
was discovered, but something that happened. Hence appears the uniqueness of
the Bible. All the ideas of Christianity might be discovered in some other
religion, yet there would be in that other religion no Christianity.
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PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL REVIEW, Vol. 20, 1922, Page 105
For
Christianity depends, not upon a complex of ideas, but upon the narration of an
event. Without that event, the world, in the Christian view, is altogether
dark, and humanity is lost under the guilt of sin. There can be no salvation by
the discovery of eternal truth, for eternal truth brings naught but despair,
because of sin. But a new face has been put upon life by the blessed thing that
God did wheu he offered up his only begotten Son.
Thus the
revelation of which an account is contained in the Bible embraces not only a
reaffirmation of eternal truths—itself necessary because the truths have been
obscured by the blinding effect of sin—but also a revelation which sets forth
the meaning of an act of God.
The contents of
the Bible, then, are unique. But another fact about the Bible is also
important. The Bible might contain an account of a true revelation from God,
and yet the account be full of error. Before the full authority of the Bible
can be established, therefore, it is necessary to add to the Christian doctrine
of revelation the Christian doctrine of inspiration. The latter doctrine means
that the Bible not only is an account of important things, but that the account
itself is true, the writers having been so preserved from error, despite a full
maintenance of their habits of thought and expression, that the resulting Book
is the "infallible rule of faith and practice." The Christian, then,
if he make full use of his Christian privileges, finds the seat of authority in
the whole Bible, which he regards as the very Word of God.
Very different
is the view of modern liberalism. The modern liberal rejects the unique
authority of the Bible. But what is substituted for the Christian doctrine?
What is the liberal view as to the seat of authority in religion?
The impression
is sometimes produced that the modern liberal substitutes for the authority of
the Bible the authority of Christ. He cannot accept, he says, what he regards
as the perverse moral teaching of the Old Testament or the sophistical
arguments of Paul. But he regards himself
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PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL REVIEW, Vol. 20, 1922, Page 106
as being the
true Christian because, rejecting the rest of the Bible, he depends upon Jesus
alone.
This impression,
however, is utterly false. The modern liberal does not really hold to the
authority of Jesus. Even if he did so, he would be impoverishing very greatly
his knowledge of God and of the way of salvation. The words of Jesus, spoken
during His earthly ministry, could hardly contain all that we need to know
about God and about the way of salvation; for the meaning of Jesus' redeeming
work could hardly be fully set forth before that work was done. It could be set
forth indeed by way of prophecy, and as a matter of fact it was so set forth by
Jesus even in the days of His flesh. But the full explanation could naturally
be given only after the work was done. And such was actually the divine method.
It is doing despite, not only to the Spirit of God, but also to Jesus Himself,
to regard the teaching of the Holy Spirit, given through the apostles, as at
all inferior in authority to the teaching of Jesus.
As a matter of
fact, however, the modern liberal does not hold fast even to the authority of
Jesus. Certainly he does not accept the words of Jesus as they are recorded in
the Gospels. For among the recorded words of Jesus are to be found just those
things which are most abhorrent to the modern liberal Church, and in His
recorded words Jesus also points forward to the fuller revelation which was
afterwards to be given through His apostles. Evidently, therefore, those words
of Jesus which are to be regarded as authoritative by modern liberalism must
first be selected from the mass of the recorded words by a critical process.
The critical process is certainly very difficult, and the suspicion often
arises that the critic is retaining as genuine words of the historical Jesus
only those words which conform to his own preconceived ideas. But even after
the sifting process has been completed, the liberal scholar is still unable to
accept as authoritative all the sayings
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of Jesus; he
must finally admit that even the historical Jesus said some things that are untrue.
So much is
usually admitted. But, it is maintained, although not everything that Jesus
said is true, His central "life-purpose" is still to be regarded as
regulative for the Church. 3 But what then was the life-purpose of Jesus?
According to the shortest, and if modern criticism be accepted, the earliest of
the gospels, the Son of Man "came not to be ministered unto, but to
minister, and to give his life a ransom for many" (Mark 10:45). Here the
vicarious death is put as the "life-purpose" of Jesus. Such an
utterance must of course be pushed aside by the modern liberal Church. The
truth is that the life-purpose of Jesus discovered by modern liberalism is not
the life-purpose of the real Jesus, but merely represents those elements in the
teaching of Jesus—isolated and misinterpreted—which happen to agree with the
modern program. It is not Jesus, then, who is the real authority, but the
modern principle by which the selection within Jesus' recorded teaching has
been made. Certain isolated ethical principles of the Sermon on the Mount are
accepted, not at all because they are teachings of Jesus, but because they
agree with modern ideas.
It is not true
at all, then, that modern liberalism is based upon the authority of Jesus. It
is obliged to reject a vast deal that is absolutely essential in Jesus' example
and teaching—notably His consciousness of being the heavenly Messiah. The real
authority, for liberalism, can only be "the Christian consciousness"
or "Christian experience." But how shall the findings of the
Christian consciousness be established? Surely not by a majority vote of the
organized Church. Such a method would obviously do away with all liberty of
conscience. The only authority, then, can be individual experience; truth can
only be that which "helps" the individual man. Such an authority is
obviously no
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authority at
all; for individual experience is endlessly diverse, and when once truth is
regarded only as that which works at any particular time, it ceases to be
truth. The result is an abysmal skepticism.
The Christian
man, on the other hand, finds in the Bible the very Word of God. Let it not be
said that dependence upon a book is a dead or an artificial thing. The
Reformation of the sixteenth century was founded upon the authority of the
Bible, yet it set the world aflame. Dependence upon a word of man would be
slavish, but dependence upon God's word is life. Dark and gloomy would be the
world, if we were left to our own devices, and had no blessed Word of God.
It is no
wonder, then, that liberalism is totally different from Christianity, for the
foundation is different. Christianity is founded upon the Bible. It bases upon
the Bible both its thinking and its life. Liberalism on the other hand is
founded upon the shifting emotions of sinful men.
Three points of
difference between liberalism and Christianity have now been noticed. The two
are different (1) in their view of God, (2) in their view of man, and (3) in
their choice of the seat of authority in religion. A fourth difference concerns
the view of Christ. What does modern liberalism believe about the person of our
Lord?
At this point a
puzzling fact appears—the liberal preacher is often perfectly ready to say that
"Jesus is God." The plain man is much impressed. The preacher, he
says, believes in the deity of our Lord; obviously then his unorthodoxy must
concern only details; and those who object to his presence in the Church are
narrow and uncharitable heresy-hunters. But unfortunately language is valuable
only as the expression of thought. The English word "god" has no
particular virtue in itself; it is not more beautiful than other words. Its
importance depends altogether upon the meaning which is attached to it. When,
therefore, the liberal preacher says that "Jesus is God," the
significance of the utterance depends altogether upon what is meant by
"God."
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But it has
already been observed that when the liberal preacher uses the word
"God," he means something entirely different from that which the
Christian means by the same word. "God," at least according to the
logical trend of modern liberalism, is not a person separate from the world,
but merely the unity that pervades the world. To say, therefore, that Jesus is
God means merely that the life of God, which appears in all men, appears with
special clearness or richness in Jesus. Such an assertion is diametrically
opposed to the Christian belief in the deity of Christ.
Equally opposed
to Christian belief is another meaning that is sometimes attached to the
assertion that Jesus is God. The word "God" is sometimes used to
denote simply the supreme object of men's desires, the highest thing that men
know. We have given up the notion, it is said, that there is a Maker and Ruler
of the universe. Such notions belong to "metaphysics," and are
rejected by the modern man. But the word "God," though it can no
longer denote the Maker of the universe, is convenient as denoting the object
of men's emotions and desires. Of some men, it can be said that their God is
mammon—mammon is that for which they labor, and to which their hearts are
attached. In a somewhat similar way, the liberal preacher says that Jesus is
God. He does not mean at all to say that Jesus is identical in nature with a
Maker and Ruler of the universe, of whom an idea could be obtained apart from
Jesus. In such a Being he no longer believes. All that he means is that the man
Jesus—a man here in the midst of us, and of the same nature as ours—is the
highest thing we know. It is obvious that such a way of thinking is far more
widely removed from Christian belief than is Unitarianism, at least the earlier
forms of Unitarianism. For the early Unitarianism no doubt at least believed in
God. The modern liberals, on the other hand, say that Jesus is God not because
they think high of Jesus, but because they think desperately low of God.
In another way
also, liberalism within the "evangelical"
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Churches is
inferior to Unitarianism. It is inferior to Unitarianism in the matter of
honesty. In order to maintain themselves in the evangelical churches and quiet
the fears of their conservative associates, the liberals resort constantly to a
double use of language. A young man, for example, has received disquieting
reports of the unorthodoxy of a prominent preacher. Interrogating the preacher
as to his belief, he receives a reassuring reply. "You may tell
everyone," says the liberal preacher in effect, "that I believe that
Jesus is God." The inquirer goes away much impressed.
It may well be
doubted, however, whether the assertion, "I believe that Jesus is
God," or the like, on the lips of liberal preachers, is strictly truthful.
The liberal preacher attaches indeed a real meaning to the words, and that
meaning is very dear to his heart. He really does believe that "Jesus is
God." But the trouble is that he attaches to the words a different meaning
from that which is attached to them by the simple-minded person to whom he is
speaking. He offends, therefore, against the fundamental principle of
truthfulness in language. According to that fundamental principle, language is
truthful, not when the meaning attached to the words by the speaker, but when
the meaning intended to be produced in the mind of the particular person
addressed, is in accordance with the facts. Thus the truthfulness of the
assertion, "I believe that Jesus is God," depends upon the audience
that is addressed. If the audience is composed of theologically trained
persons, who will attach the same meaning to the word "God" as that
which the speaker attaches to it, then the language is truthful. But if the
audience is composed of old-fashioned Christians, who have never attached
anything but the old meaning to the word God (the meaning which appears in the
first verse of Genesis), then the language is untruthful. And in the latter
case, not all the pious motives in the world will make the utterance right.
Christian ethics do not abrogate common honesty; no possible desire of edifying
the Church and of avoiding offence can excuse a lie.
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At any rate,
the deity of our Lord, in any real sense of the word "deity," is of
course denied by modern liberalism. To the modern preacher Jesus is an example
for faith, and Christianity consists in having the same faith in God that Jesus
had. To the Christian, on the other hand, Jesus is the object of faith, and
upon Him alone depends the eternal welfare of the individual soul and of
humanity. 4
Finally,
liberalism differs from Christianity in the account which is given of the way
of salvation. The two give exactly opposite answers to the question, "What
must I do to be saved?" Liberalism finds salvation in man; Christianity
finds it only in an act of God.
The difference
with regard to the way of salvation concerns, in the first place, the basis of
salvation in the redeeming work of Christ. According to Christian belief, Jesus
is our Saviour, not by virtue of what He said, not even by virtue of what He
was, but by what He did. He is our Saviour not because He has inspired us to
live the same kind of life that He lived, but because He took upon Himself the
dreadful guilt of our sins and bore it instead of us on the Cross. Such is the
Christian conception of the Cross of Christ. It is ridiculed as being a subtle
"theory of the atonement." In reality, though it involves mysteries,
it is itself so simple that a child can understand it. "We deserved
eternal death, but the Lord Jesus because He loved us died instead of us on the
cross"—surely there is nothing So very intricate about that. It is not the
Bible doctrine of the atonement which is difficult to understand—what are
really incomprehensible are the elaborate modern efforts to get rid of the
Bible doctrine in the interests of human pride.
To modern
liberalism the Cross of Christ is an inspiring example of self-sacrifice. But
since there have been many acts of self-sacrifice in the history of the world,
why should we pay such exclusive attention to this one Palestinian example? We
are perfectly ready, men say in effect, to admit
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Jesus into the
noble fellowship of those who have sacrificed themselves in a noble cause. But
further we will not go. Men used to say with reference to Jesus, "There
was no other good enough to pay the price of sin." They say so no longer.
On the contrary, every man is now regarded as plenty good enough to pay the
price of sin if he will only go bravely over the top in a noble cause.
It is no wonder
that men adopt this patronizing attitude toward the Cross; for the liberal
conception of the Cross follows naturally from the liberal conception of man
and the liberal conception of Christ. If there be no such thing as sin, no such
thing as the just condemnation of God's law, then of course we can get along
perfectly well without a sacrifice for sin. And if Jesus be a man like the rest
of men, then of course His death cannot possibly be a sacrifice for the sins of
others. One mere man cannot possibly pay the penalty of another man's sin. But
it does not follow that the Son of God cannot pay the penalty of the sins of
men. When we come to see that it was no mere man, but the Lord of glory who
suffered on Calvary, then we shall be willing to say, as men used to say, that
the precious blood of Jesus alone—and not all the rivers of blood that have
flowed on the battle-fields of history—is of value as a ground for our own
salvation and for the hope of the world.
With the
liberal view of the basis of salvation goes the liberal view of the application
of salvation to the individual man, and that also is entirely different from
the teaching of the Bible. According to the Bible, salvation is applied to the
individual man by the Spirit of God. The work of the Spirit is mysterious. But
the human accompaniment of the Spirit's action is a very simple thing—it is
faith. Faith means simply receiving a gift. To have faith in Christ means to
cease trying to win God's favor by one's own character; the man who believes in
Christ simply accepts the sacrifice which Christ offered on Calvary. The
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result of such
faith is a new life and all good works; but the salvation itself is an
absolutely free gift of God.
Liberalism, on
the other hand, seeks the welfare of men by urging them to "make Christ
Master in their lives." In other words, salvation is to be obtained by our
own obedience to the Commands of Christ. Such teaching is just a sublimated
form of legalism. Not the sacrifice of Christ, on this view, but our own
obedience to God's law is the ground of hope.
In this way the
whole achievement of the Reformation has been given up, and there has been a
return to the religion of the Middle Ages. At the beginning of the sixteenth
century, God raised up a man who began to read the Epistle to the Galatians
with his own eyes. The result was the rediscovery of the doctrine of
justification by faith. Upon that rediscovery has been based the whole of our
evangelical freedom. As expounded by Luther and Calvin the Epistle to the
Galatians became the "Magna Carta of Christian liberty." But modern
liberalism has returned to the old interpretation of Galatians which was urged
against the Reformers. Thus Professor Burton's elaborate commentary on the
Epistle, with all its valuable modern scholarship, is at bottom a thorough
mediaeval book; it has returned to an anti-Reformation exegesis, by which Paul
is thought to be attacking in the Epistle only the piecemeal morality of the
Pharisees. In reality, of course, the object of Paul's attack is the thought
that in any way man can earn his acceptance with God. What Paul is primarily
interested in is not spiritual religion over against ceremonialism, but the
free grace of God over against human merit.
The grace of
God is rejected by modern liberalism. And the result is slavery—the slavery of
the law, the wretched bondage by which man undertakes the impossible task of
establishing his own righteousness as a ground of acceptance with God. It may
seem strange at first sight that "liberalism," of which the very name
means freedom, should in reality be wretched slavery. But the phenomenon
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is not really
so strange. Emanicipation from the blessed will of God always involves bondage
to some worse task-master.
Thus it may be
said of the modern liberal Church, as of the Jerusalem of Paul's day, that
"she is in bondage with her children." God grant that she may turn
again to the liberty of the gospel of Christ!
Such is the
present situation. It is a great mistake to suppose that liberalism is merely a
heresy—merely a divergence at isolated points from true Christian teaching. On
the contrary it proceeds from a totally different root. It differs from
Christianity in its view of God, of man, of the seat of authority, of Christ,
and of the way of salvation. Christianity is being attacked from within by a
movement which is anti-Christian to the core.
What is the
duty of laymen at such a time? What is the duty of the ruling elders in the
Presbyterian Church?
In the first
place, they should encourage those who are engaging in the intellectual and
spiritual struggle. They should not say, in the sense in which some laymen say
it, that more time should be devoted to the propagation of Christianity, and
less to the defence of Christianity. Certainly there should be propagation of
Christianity. Believers should certainly not content themselves with warding
off attacks, but should also unfold in an orderly and positive way the full
riches of the gospel. But far more is usually meant by those who call for less
defence and more propagation. What they really intend is the discouragement of
the whole intellectual defence of the faith. And their words come as a blow in
the face of those who are fighting the great battle. As a matter of fact, not
less time, but more time, should be devoted to the defence of the gospel.
Indeed, truth cannot be stated clearly at all, without being set over against
error. Thus a large part of the New Testament is polemic; the enunciation of
evangelical truth was occasioned by the errors which had arisen in the
churches. So it will always be, on account of the fundamental laws of the human
mind. Moreover, the
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present crisis
must be taken into account. There may have been a day when there could be
propagation of Christianity without defence. But such a day at any rate is
past. At the present time, when the opponents of the gospel are almost in
control of our church, the slightest avoidance of the defence of the gospel is
just sheer unfaithfulness to the Lord. There have been previous great crises in
the history of the Church, crises almost comparable to this. One appeared in
the second century, when the very life of Christendom was threatened by the
Gnostics. Another came in the Middle Ages when the gospel of God's grace seemed
forgotten. In such times of crisis, God has always saved the Church. But He has
always saved it not by pacifists, but by sturdy contenders for the truth.
In the second
place, ruling elders should perform their duty as members of presbyteries. The
question, "For Christ or against him?," constantly arises in the
examination of candidates for licensure or ordination. Attempts are often made
to obscure the issue. It is often said: "The candidate will no doubt move
in the direction of the truth; let him now be sent out to learn as well as to
preach." And so another opponent of the gospel enters the councils of the
Church, and another false prophet goes forth to encourage sinners to come
before the judgment seat of God clad in the miserable rags of their own
righteousness. Such action is not really "kind" to the candidate
himself. It is never kind to encourage a man to enter into a life of
dishonesty. The fact often seems to be forgotten that the Presbyterian Church
is a purely voluntary organization; no one is required to enter into its
service. If a man cannot accept the belief of the Church, there are other
ecclesiastical bodies in which he can find a place. The belief of the
Presbyterian Church is plainly set forth in the Confession of Faith, and the
Church will never afford any warmth of communion or engage with any real vigor
in her work until her ministers are in whole-hearted agreement with that
belief. It is strange how in the interests of an utterly false kindness
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to men,
Christians are sometimes willing to relinquish their loyalty to the crucified
Lord.
In the third
place, the ruling elders of the Presbyterian Church should show their loyalty
to Christ in their capacity as members of the individual congregations. The
issue often arises in connection with the choice of a pastor. Such and such a
man, it is said, is a brilliant preacher. But what is the content of his
preaching? Is his preaching full of the gospel of Christ? The answer is often
evasive. The preacher in question, it is said, is of good standing in the
Church, and he has never denied the doctrines of grace. Therefore, it is urged,
he should be called to the pastorate. But shall we be satisfied with such
negative assurances? Shall we be satisfied with preachers who merely "do
not deny" the Cross of Christ? God grant that such satisfaction may be
broken down! The people are perishing under the ministrations of those who "do
not deny" the Cross of Christ. Surely something more than that is needed.
God send us ministers who, instead of merely avoiding denial of the Cross shall
be on fire with the Cross, whose whole life shall be one burning sacrifice of
gratitude to the blessed Saviour who loved them and gave Himself for them!
A terrible
crisis has arisen in the Church. In the ministry of evangelical churches are to
be found hosts of those who reject the gospel of Christ. By the equivocal use
of traditional phrases, by the representation of differences of opinion as
though they were only differences about the interpretation of the Bible,
entrance into the Church was secured for those who are hostile to the very
foundations of the faith. And now there are some indications that the fiction of
conformity to the past is to be thrown off, and the real meaning of what has
been taking place is to be allowed to appear. The Church, it is now apparently
supposed, has almost been educated up to the point where the shackles of the
Bible can openly be cast away and the doctrine of the Cross of Christ can be
relegated to the limbo of discarded subtleties.
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Yet there is in
the Christian life no room for despair. Only, our hopefulness should not be
founded on the sand. It should be founded, not upon a blind ignorance of the
danger, but solely upon the precious promises of God. Laymen, as well as
ministers, should return, in these trying days, with new earnestness, to the
study of the Word of God.
If the Word of
God be heeded, the Christian battle will be fought both with love and with
faithfulness. Party passions and personal animosities will be put away, but on
the other hand, even angels from heaven will be rejected if they preach a
gospel different from the blessed gospel of the Cross. Every man must decide
upon which side he will stand. God grant that we may decide aright! God grant
that instead of directing men, as modern liberalism does, to the village of
Morality, where dwells a gentleman whose name is Legality, said to have skill
in easing men of their burdens, we may direct them on the old, old way, through
the little wicket gate, to a place somewhat ascending, where they shall really
see the Cross, that when at that sight the burden of their sin has fallen away,
they may press on past the Hill Difficulty, past the Valley of Humiliation and
the Valley of the Shadow of Death, past the allurements of Vanity Fair, up over
the Delectable Mountains, and so, at length, across the last river, into the
City of God.
Princeton.
J. Gresham Machen
Notes
1. The principal divisions of what follows were
suggested by the Rev. Paul Martin, of Princeton.
2. For what follows, compare "The Church in
the War," in _The Presbyterian_, for May 29, 1919, pp. 10 f.
3. Compare "For Christ or Against
Him," in _The Presbyterian_ for January 20, 1921, p. 9.
4. For the distinction between Jesus as an
example for faith and Jesus as the object of faith, see Denney, _Jesus and the
Gospel_, 1909.
5. See "The Church in the War," in
_The Presbyterias_, for May 29, 1919, p. 10.