Author’s Introduction
No question matters more to humanity, or more urgently requires a settled answer from every person, than this: What distinguishes those who have God’s favor and are entitled to his eternal rewards? Or, to ask the same thing another way, What is the nature of true religion? What are the distinguishing marks of the virtue and holiness that God accepts? Yet although this question is so important, and God’s word gives us clear and abundant light to guide us, professing Christians disagree about it more than about any other point. There would be no end to listing the different opinions on this subject that divide the Christian world. They demonstrate the truth of our Savior’s words: “Strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, that leads to life, and few there be that find it.”
These considerations have long led me to study this matter with all the diligence, care, and precision in investigation that I can bring to it. My mind has been especially occupied with this subject ever since I first began studying theology. How successful my inquiries have been must be left to the judgment of those who read this treatise.
I recognize how much harder it is to judge this subject impartially amid the dust and smoke of the controversy now raging in this land about such matters. It is harder both to write impartially and to read impartially. Many will probably feel wounded to find so much connected with religious affections condemned here. Others may feel indignation and contempt when they find so much defended and approved. Some may also be ready to accuse me of inconsistency because I approve so much in some things and condemn so much in others. Some have always raised this objection against me, ever since our recent religious controversies began.
It is difficult to be a sincere and zealous friend of what has been good and glorious in the recent extraordinary religious developments, and to rejoice greatly in it, while also seeing the evil and harmful tendency of what has been bad and earnestly opposing it. Yet I am humbly but fully convinced that we will never follow the way of truth, or proceed in a way that pleases God and advances Christ’s kingdom, until we do both.
There is indeed something deeply mysterious about so much good and so much bad being mixed together in God’s church. Many good Christians have likewise been puzzled and amazed that something so divine and precious as God’s saving grace and the new, divine nature should dwell in the same believer’s heart with so much corruption, hypocrisy, and wickedness. Yet both these things are as real as they are mysterious.
Neither is new or rare. It is no new thing for much false religion to prevail during a great revival of true religion, or for multitudes of hypocrites to arise among true saints at such a time. This happened in the great reformation and revival of religion in Josiah’s time, as we see in Jeremiah 3:10 and Jeremiah 4:3-4, and in the widespread apostasy in the land so soon after his reign.
It also happened during the great outpouring of the Spirit upon the Jews in the days of John the Baptist. This is evident from that people’s widespread apostasy so soon after such a general awakening, and from the short-lived religious comfort and joy of many: “Ye were willing for a season to rejoice in his light” (John 5:35).
The same thing happened amid the great stir among the crowds caused by Jesus Christ’s preaching. Many were called, but few were chosen. Multitudes were awakened and deeply moved by his preaching. At one time or another, they seemed intensely engaged, full of admiration for Christ and lifted up with joy. Yet few were true disciples who withstood the shock of the great trials that followed and endured to the end. Many were like the rocky ground or the thorny ground, and comparatively few were like the good ground. Much of the entire heap gathered was chaff, which the wind later drove away. The heap of wheat that remained was comparatively small, as the history of the New Testament abundantly shows.
The same thing happened during the great outpouring of the Spirit in the apostles’ days. We see this in Matthew 24:10-13, Galatians 3:1 and Galatians 4:11, 15, Philippians 2:21 and Philippians 3:18-19, the two letters to the Corinthians, and many other parts of the New Testament. It also happened in the great Reformation away from Roman Catholicism. During great revivals of religion, God’s visible church has repeatedly been like fruit trees in spring. Their many blossoms all look lovely and beautiful, and the young fruit looks promising. But many blossoms last only a short time. They soon fall off and never develop into mature fruit.
We should not suppose, however, that it will always be this way. In this world, individual saints will never be entirely pure and completely free from any mixture of corruption. Nor will God’s church ever be entirely free from hypocrites mixed with saints, or counterfeit religion and false appearances of grace mixed with true religion and real holiness. Nevertheless, it is evident that a time will come when God’s church will be far purer than it has been in past ages. These passages of Scripture make this clear: Isaiah 52:1; Ezekiel 44:6-7, 9; Joel 3:17; Zechariah 14:21; Psalms 69:32, 35-36; Isaiah 35:8, 10; Isaiah 4:3-4; Ezekiel 20:38; and Psalms 37:9-10, 21, 29.
One major reason for this greater purity will be that God will then give his people much greater light to distinguish true religion from its counterfeits: “And he shall sit as a refiner and purifier of silver: and he shall purify the sons of Levi, and purge them as gold and silver, that they may offer to the Lord an offering in righteousness” (Mal 3:3). Verse 18 continues the prophecy of those same happy times: “Then shall ye return, and discern between the righteous and the wicked; between him that serveth God, and him that serveth not him” (Mal 3:18).
Throughout history, the devil’s greatest advantage against Christ’s cause and kingdom has come from counterfeit religion being mixed with true religion without being recognized and distinguished. Clearly, this has been his chief means of overcoming every revival of religion since the Christian church was first founded. In and after the apostolic age, he did far more harm to Christianity this way than through all the persecutions by Jews and pagans. In all their letters, the apostles show far greater concern about the former harm than about the latter.
Through this mixture, Satan did ten times more to halt and discredit the Reformation begun by Luther, Zwingli, and others than through all the bloody, cruel, and previously unheard-of persecutions by the church of Rome. This has also been his chief means of overcoming the revivals of religion in our nation since the Reformation. Through it he overcame New England about a hundred years ago, quenching the love and spoiling the joy of her marriage to God.
I believe I have had enough opportunity to see plainly that this is how the devil has overcome the recent great revival of religion in New England, which began so happily and promisingly. This has clearly been Satan’s main advantage against us. This is how he has defeated us. Through it, the daughter of Zion in this land now lies on the ground in the pitiful condition we see: her clothes torn, her face disfigured, her nakedness exposed, her limbs broken. She lies in the blood of her own wounds, wholly unable to rise, so soon after her recent great joys and hopes. “Zion spreadeth forth her hands, and there is none to comfort her: the Lord hath commanded concerning Jacob, that his adversaries shall be round about him: Jerusalem is as a menstruous woman among them” (Lam 1:17). I have seen the devil overcome two great revivals of religion in this country in the same way.
Satan continues dealing with humanity as he began. He overcame our first parents, drove them out of paradise, and suddenly ended all their happiness and glory by appearing to be a friend to their happy state in paradise and pretending to raise it to still greater heights. That same cunning serpent, who deceived Eve through his craftiness, has turned us away from the simplicity that is in Christ. In doing so, he has suddenly deprived us of the beautiful prospect we had only a little while ago: a kind of paradise for God’s church in New England.
When religion has revived in God’s church and enemies appear, those who undertake to defend its cause are usually most exposed where they are least aware of danger. They concentrate entirely on resisting the opposition that appears openly before them and neglect to look carefully all around. Then the devil comes behind them and delivers a fatal, unseen stab. He can strike more directly and wound more deeply because he strikes at his leisure, as he pleases, without any guard or resistance to obstruct him.
This is likely to continue happening in the church whenever religion undergoes a remarkable revival, until we have thoroughly learned to distinguish true religion from false. We must distinguish saving affections and experiences from the many beautiful displays and glittering appearances that counterfeit them. When these are not distinguished, the consequences are often too dreadful to express.
By this means, the devil gratifies himself by leading multitudes to offer God what is more abominable to him than anything else, while they imagine they are offering pleasing and acceptable service. By this means, he deceives great multitudes about the state of their souls. He makes them think they are something when they are nothing, and so brings about their eternal ruin. Beyond this, he establishes many in firm confidence that they possess outstanding holiness, although in God’s sight they are among the vilest hypocrites.
By this means, he weakens and wounds religion in the hearts of the saints in many ways. He obscures and disfigures it by mixing it with corruption. He causes their religious affections to degenerate terribly and sometimes, for a considerable time, to become like the manna that bred worms and stank. He also grievously ensnares and confuses the minds of other saints, bringing them into great difficulties and temptation. He entangles them in a wilderness from which they cannot find any way to free themselves.
By this means, Satan greatly emboldens religion’s open enemies, strengthens their hands, supplies them with weapons, and fortifies their strongholds. Meanwhile, religion and God’s church lie exposed to them like a city without walls. By this means, he leads people to practice wickedness while imagining they are serving God. They therefore sin without restraint, indeed eagerly and zealously, with all their strength. By this means, he leads even religion’s friends, without their realizing it, to do the work of its enemies. Under the impression that they are advancing religion, they destroy it far more effectively than its open enemies can.
By this means, the devil scatters Christ’s flock and sets its members against one another with intense hostility, under the impression that they are zealous for God. Religion gradually degenerates into empty quarreling. During the conflict, Satan leads both parties far off the right path. He drives each to great extremes, one to the right and the other to the left, according to their inclinations or whichever direction he finds easiest to move and influence them. At last, the right path in the middle is almost entirely neglected.
Amid this confusion, the devil has ample opportunity to advance and strengthen his own interests in countless ways, bring everything under his control, and carry out his own will. When God’s people see the terrible consequences of counterfeit religion that has not been distinguished from true religion, their minds generally become shaken and unsettled about religion. They do not know where to stand, what to think, or what to do. Many begin to doubt whether there is anything at all in religion, and heresy, unbelief, and atheism become widespread.
It is therefore of great concern to us to make every effort to discern clearly what true religion consists in, and to become firmly settled in that understanding. Until we do, we can expect great revivals of religion to last only a short time. Until we do, we can expect little good from all our heated debates, whether in conversation or in print, since we do not clearly and distinctly know what we ought to defend.
In this treatise, I intend to make my small contribution toward that end and do the best I can, however weak my efforts may be. It should be understood that my purpose differs somewhat from that of what I have previously published. There I sought to show the distinguishing marks of a work of God’s Spirit, including both his common and his saving operations. Here I seek to show the nature and signs of the gracious operations of God’s Spirit, so that they may be distinguished from every experience of the human mind that is not saving in nature.
If I have achieved this aim to any reasonable degree, I hope it will advance the interests of religion. Whether or not I have shed any light on this subject, and however much my attempts may be criticized in these faultfinding and judgmental times, I trust in the mercy of a gracious and righteous God to accept the sincerity of my efforts. I also hope for the fair judgment and prayers of the true followers of the meek and loving Lamb of God.
Part I
The Nature and Importance of the Affections
“Whom having not seen, ye love: in whom, though now ye see him not, yet believing, ye rejoice with joy unspeakable, and full of glory” (1 Pet 1:8).
In these words, the apostle describes the state of mind of the Christians he was writing to while they were being persecuted. These are the persecutions he refers to in the two preceding verses, when he speaks of the trial of their faith and their being in heaviness through manifold temptations.
Such trials benefit true religion in three ways. First, they reveal its truth and show that it really is true religion. More than anything else, they tend to distinguish true religion from false and make the difference plainly visible. This is why they are called trials in the verse immediately preceding our text and in countless other places. They test the faith and religion of those who profess it and show what kind it is, just as something that appears to be gold is tested in a fire to reveal whether it is genuine. When the faith of true Christians is tested in this way and proved genuine, it is “found to praise and honour and glory,” as that preceding verse says.
Second, these trials benefit true religion by revealing not only its truth but also its genuine beauty and loveliness. True virtue never looks so lovely as when it is most oppressed. The divine excellence of real Christianity is never displayed so clearly as under the greatest trials. Then true faith appears far more precious than gold, and for this reason it is “found to praise and honour and glory.”
Third, such trials purify and increase true religion. They not only show that it is genuine but also tend to refine it, freeing it from the admixture of what is false, which burdens and hinders it, until only what is true remains. As I have already observed, they tend to display the loveliness of true religion to the greatest advantage. They also tend to increase its beauty by establishing and strengthening it, making it more lively and vigorous, and purifying it of whatever obscures its brightness and glory. Gold tested in a fire is purged of its alloy and remaining impurities, and emerges more solid and beautiful. In the same way, true faith tested like gold in a fire becomes more precious, and so is also “found unto praise and honour and glory.” In the verse preceding our text, the apostle seems to refer to each of these benefits that persecution brings to true religion.
In our text, the apostle observes how true religion worked in these Christians under persecution, and how these benefits appeared in them. He describes the way their religion operated under persecution so that it was shown to be true, displayed the genuine beauty and loveliness of true religion in an eminent degree, and appeared to have increased and been purified. Thus it was likely to be “found unto praise and honour and glory, at the appearing of Jesus Christ.” In the text, he singles out two kinds of activity or exercise of true religion under their sufferings in which these benefits appeared.
1. Love for Christ. “Whom having not yet seen, ye love.” The world was ready to wonder what strange principle moved them to expose themselves to such great sufferings. They abandoned the things they could see and renounced everything dear and pleasant that their senses could perceive. To the worldly people around them, they seemed out of their minds, acting as though they hated themselves. Those people could see nothing that would induce them to suffer like this, support them in it, or carry them through such trials.
Yet although nothing visible moved and supported them, nothing the world could see or that the Christians themselves had ever seen with their bodily eyes, they had a supernatural principle of love for something unseen. They loved Jesus Christ because they saw him spiritually. The world did not see him, and they themselves had never seen him with their bodily eyes.
2. Joy in Christ. Although their outward sufferings were very severe, their inward spiritual joys were greater. These joys supported them and enabled them to suffer cheerfully.
The apostle notices two things about this joy. 1. How it arises. Christ, though unseen, is its foundation through faith, which is the evidence of things not seen: “In whom, though now ye see him not, yet believing, ye rejoice.” 2. Its nature. It is “unspeakable, and full of glory.” It is unspeakable in kind, vastly different from worldly joys and fleshly delights. Its nature is far purer, more exalted, and more heavenly. It is something supernatural and truly divine, and therefore inexpressibly excellent. No words could convey its sublimity and exquisite sweetness. It is also unspeakable in degree, because God was pleased to give them this holy joy generously and abundantly while they were being persecuted.
Their joy was full of glory. Although it was unspeakable and no words could describe it adequately, something can still be said about it. No words better express its excellence than full of glory, or, as it is in the original, glorified joy. As they rejoiced with this joy, their minds were filled, as it were, with a glorious brightness, and their natures were elevated and perfected. This was a most worthy and noble rejoicing. It did not corrupt and degrade the mind, as many fleshly joys do, but greatly beautified and dignified it. It was a foretaste of heaven’s joy, raising their minds to a measure of heavenly blessedness. It filled their minds with the light of God’s glory and made them shine with the glory he communicated to them.
The proposition or doctrine I would draw from these words is this:
Doctrine: True religion consists, in great part, in holy affections.
The apostle observes the activities and exercises of religion in the Christians he was writing to. Through these, their religion appeared genuine and of the right kind when its nature was subjected to the greatest trial, tested by persecution as gold is tested in a fire. At that time, their religion not only proved true but was also at its purest, cleansed of impurities and the admixture of what was false. It appeared most clearly in its genuine excellence and inherent beauty and was found to praise and honor and glory. In describing it, the apostle singles out the religious affections of love and joy then active in them. These are the exercises of religion he notices through which their religion appeared true and pure, in its proper glory.
Here I will do two things. 1. Show what is meant by the affections. 2. Consider some things that make it evident that a great part of true religion lies in the affections.
I. What the Affections Are
What are the affections of the mind?
I answer: the affections are simply the more vigorous and perceptible exercises of the soul’s inclination and will.
God has endowed the soul with two faculties. One enables it to perceive and reflect, to discern, consider, and judge things. This is called the understanding. Through the other faculty, the soul does more than merely perceive and consider things. It is inclined in some way toward the things it sees or considers, either drawn to them or disinclined and averse to them. Through this faculty, the soul does not view things as an indifferent, unaffected spectator. It likes or dislikes them, is pleased or displeased with them, and approves or rejects them.
This faculty has several names. It is sometimes called the inclination. In relation to the actions it determines and governs, it is called the will. And the mind, in relation to the exercises of this faculty, is often called the heart.
The exercises of this faculty are of two kinds. In one, the soul moves toward the things before it, approving of them, being pleased with them, and inclining toward them. In the other, the soul opposes the things before it, disapproving of them, being displeased with them, feeling averse to them, and rejecting them.
The exercises of the soul’s inclination and will vary in kind, and even more in degree. In some exercises of pleasure or displeasure, inclination or disinclination, the soul moves only a little beyond perfect indifference. In others, approval or dislike, pleasure or aversion, is stronger. These can rise higher and higher until the soul acts vigorously and perceptibly. Its activity then becomes so strong that, through the laws governing the union of soul and body established by the Creator, the movement of the blood and animal spirits begins to change perceptibly. This often produces a bodily sensation, especially around the heart and vital organs, which are the source of the body’s fluids. Perhaps this is why the mind, in relation to the exercises of this faculty, has been called the heart in every nation and age. It is these more vigorous and perceptible exercises of this faculty that are called the affections.
The will and the affections are not two faculties of the soul. The affections are not essentially distinct from the will. They differ from the ordinary activities of the soul’s will and inclination only in the liveliness and perceptibility of their exercise.
We must admit that language here is somewhat imperfect. The meanings of words are considerably loose and unsettled, without precise boundaries fixed by custom, which governs language. In one sense, the soul’s affection is no different at all from its will and inclination. The will is active only insofar as it is affected. It moves out of perfect indifference only by being affected in one direction or another, and it acts no further than that.
Yet many activities of the will and inclination are not commonly called affections. Whenever we act voluntarily, our will and inclination are exercised. Our inclination governs our actions, but we do not ordinarily call all its activities in everyday life affections. Still, what we commonly call affections differ from those activities only in the degree and manner of their exercise, rather than in their essential nature.
In every act of the will, the soul likes or dislikes something, inclining toward or away from what is before it. These are not essentially different from the affections of love and hatred. When the soul’s liking or inclination toward something is strong, vigorous, and lively, it is the very same thing as the affection of love. When its dislike and disinclination are strong, they are the very same thing as hatred.
In every act of the will toward something absent, the soul is inclined toward it to some degree. When that inclination is considerable, it is the very same thing as the affection of desire. In every act of the will that approves of something present, there is some pleasure. When that pleasure is considerable, it is the very same thing as the affection of joy or delight. If the will disapproves of something present, the soul is displeased to some degree. When that displeasure is great, it is the very same thing as the affection of grief or sorrow.
Our nature, and the laws governing the union of soul and body, seem to be such that no lively, vigorous exercise of the soul’s will or inclination ever occurs without some effect on the body. It changes the movement of the body’s fluids, especially the animal spirits. On the other hand, under these same laws, the body’s constitution and the movement of its fluids may encourage the exercise of the affections.
Nevertheless, the proper seat of the affections is the mind alone, rather than the body. A human body can no more actually possess love or hatred, joy or sorrow, fear or hope, than a tree’s body can, or than that same human body can think and understand. Only the soul has ideas, and only the soul is pleased or displeased with its ideas. Only the soul thinks, and only the soul loves or hates, rejoices or grieves over what it thinks about.
These movements of the animal spirits and bodily fluids do not properly belong to the nature of the affections, even though they always accompany them in our present state. They are only effects or accompanying circumstances of the affections, entirely distinct from the affections themselves and in no way essential to them. Thus a spirit without a body may be just as capable of love and hatred, joy or sorrow, hope or fear, and other affections as one united to a body.
Affections and passions are often spoken of as the same thing. Yet ordinary usage distinguishes them in some respects. Affection ordinarily seems broader than passion: it applies to all vigorous, lively activities of the will or inclination. Passion applies to those that are more sudden, have more violent effects on the animal spirits, and overpower the mind more, leaving it less in command of itself.
All exercises of the inclination and will involve either approval and liking or disapproval and rejection. Similarly, the affections are of two kinds. Through some, the soul moves toward what is before it, clinging to it or seeking it. Through others, the soul turns away from it and opposes it.
The first kind includes love, desire, hope, joy, gratitude, and delight in what pleases us. The second includes hatred, fear, anger, grief, and the like. There is no need to define each of them here.
Some affections combine both kinds of activity of the will. In pity, for example, there is something of the first kind toward the person suffering and something of the second toward what that person suffers. Similarly, zeal involves strong approval of some person or thing together with vigorous opposition to whatever is thought contrary to it.
Other mixed affections could also be mentioned, but I move on to the second thing proposed.
II. Why True Religion Includes the Affections
I will now consider some things that make it evident that true religion consists, in great part, in the affections.
1. True Religion Engages the Heart
What we have said about the nature of the affections makes this evident. It may be enough, without anything further, to put the matter beyond doubt. Who will deny that true religion consists, to a great extent, in vigorous, lively activities of the soul’s inclination and will, or fervent exercises of the heart?
The religion God requires and will accept does not consist in weak, dull, lifeless wishes that raise us only a little above indifference. In his word, God strongly insists that we be earnest, “fervent in spirit,” with our hearts vigorously engaged in religion: “Be ye fervent in spirit, serving the Lord” (Rom 12:11). “And now Israel, what doth the Lord thy God require of thee, but to fear the Lord thy God, to walk in all his ways, and to love him, and to serve the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul?” (Deut 10:12). Again: “Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God is one Lord: and thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy might” (Deut 6:4-5).
This fervent, vigorous engagement of the heart in religion is the fruit of a real circumcision of the heart, or true regeneration. It is to this that the promises of life belong: “And the Lord thy God will circumcise thine heart, and the heart of thy seed, to love the Lord thy God, with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, that thou mayest live” (Deut 30:6).
If we are not earnest in religion, and our wills and inclinations are not strongly exercised, we are nothing. The things of religion are so great that the exercises of our hearts cannot correspond to their nature and importance unless they are lively and powerful. Nowhere is vigor in the activity of our inclinations so necessary as in religion, and nowhere is lukewarmness so hateful.
True religion is always powerful. Its power appears first in its inward exercises, in the heart, which is its principal and original seat. This is why true religion is called the power of godliness, as distinguished from its outward appearances, which are its form: “Having a form of godliness but denying the power of it” (2 Tim 3:5). In those who have any solid religion, the Spirit of God is a spirit of powerful, holy affection. Therefore God is said to have given them the Spirit of power, and of “love and of a sound mind” (2 Tim 1:7).
When people receive the Spirit of God in his sanctifying and saving influences, they are said to be “baptized with the Holy Ghost and with fire.” This is because of the power and fervor of the exercises the Spirit of God awakens in their hearts. When grace is active, their hearts may be said to burn within them, as is said of the disciples (Luke 24:32).
The work of religion is repeatedly compared to activities in which people ordinarily engage their hearts and strength intensely. These include running, wrestling, or struggling for a great prize or crown; fighting powerful enemies who seek our lives; and waging war like those who take a city or kingdom by force.
True grace has various degrees. Some are only infants in Christ, and the exercise of their inclination and will toward divine and heavenly things is comparatively weak. Yet everyone who has the power of godliness in the heart has inclinations and a heart exercised toward God and divine things with such strength and vigor that these holy exercises prevail over all fleshly or natural affections and effectively overcome them. Every true disciple of Christ loves him more than father or mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, houses and lands, and even more than his own life.
It follows that wherever true religion exists, there are vigorous exercises of the inclination and will toward divine things. As we have already said, the vigorous, lively, perceptible exercises of the will are simply the affections of the soul.
2. The Affections Move Us to Act
The Author of human nature has not only given people affections but has also made them largely the driving force of human actions. The affections necessarily belong to human nature and make up a very great part of it. Through regeneration, people are renewed in their whole being and sanctified throughout. Therefore holy affections necessarily belong to true religion and make up a very great part of it. True religion is practical in nature, and God has constituted human nature so that the affections largely drive our actions. This, too, shows that true religion must consist very much in the affections.
Human nature is such that we are largely inactive unless some affection influences us, whether love, hatred, desire, hope, fear, or another. We see that these affections set people in motion in all the affairs of life and engage them in all their pursuits. They urge people forward and carry them along in all their worldly business. They especially arouse and animate people in affairs in which they are earnestly engaged and which they pursue vigorously.
We see humanity exceedingly busy and active, and human affections provide the driving force. Take away all love and hatred, all hope and fear, all anger, zeal, and affectionate desire, and the world would be largely motionless and dead. There would be no activity among people, no active pursuit of anything. Affection engages the covetous person, greedy for worldly profit, in his pursuits. The affections propel the ambitious person in his pursuit of worldly glory. They also move the person devoted to sensual indulgence in his pursuit of pleasure and sensual delights.
From age to age, the world remains in continual commotion and agitation in pursuit of these things. But take away all affection, and the forces driving all this movement would disappear, and the movement itself would cease. Just as worldly affections largely drive people’s movements and actions in worldly things, religious affections largely drive their actions in religious matters. Someone who has only doctrinal knowledge and reflection, without affection, never becomes engaged in the work of religion.
