PROEM.
(epimstheus.)
WAKE again, Teutonic Father -ages, Speak again, beloved primeval creeds;
Flash ancestral spirit from your pages. Wake the greedy age to noble deeds.
Ye who built the churches where we worship. Ye who framed the laws by which we move.
Fathers, long belied, and long forsaken, Oh, forgive the children of your love!
(pROMETHEUS.)
There will we find laws which shall interpret. Through the simpler past, existing life;
Delving up from mines and fairy caverns Charmed blades to cut the age's strife.
—Rev. Charles Kingsley.— The Saints' Tragedy.
Niebuhr detected in the eagerness to restore the old, an eagerness for novelty; “When the novelty of a thing is worn away by use, we are prone to return to the old, which then becomes new again, and thus the ball is thrown backwards and forwards.”
Augustus Neander, History of the Planting and Training of the Christian Church by the Apostles, trans. J. E. Ryland (Philadelphia; New York: James M. Campbell & Co.; Saxton & Miles, 1844), x.
Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle agreed with their forebears that pure materiality approximates nonbeing and lacks order. Beyond pre-Socratic poetry and philosophy, they sought to show that transcendent universal form gives being to matter (rather than some immanent material principle), that the divine is unitary (rather than multiple), and that the oneness of immaterial form is paradoxically embodied in the plurality of material things (rather than corrupted and destroyed). For Plato, material things are imperfect copies of immaterial forms and only exist by participation. Similarly, for Aristotle the being or actuality of form—essence—brings the nonbeing or potency of matter into existence. As a result of the relation between form and matter, concrete things constitute individual form-matter compounds and are intelligible to the mind via the senses. However, Aristotle rejected Plato’s theory of forms because, according to the Stagirite, it is confused and fails to overcome the pre-Socratic dualism between the empirical and the ideal. Aristotle was the first to assert that Plato’s separation of timeless forms from preexistent matter can neither solve the problem of motion and rest nor explain the unity of body and soul. Moreover, Plato was unable—so Aristotle’s argument goes—to demonstrate how and why the human mind can cognize the presence of transcendent eternal structures in immanent ephemeral phenomena. Aristotle’s critique of Plato’s metaphysics led him to abandon the concept of participation and to theorize the relation between particulars and universals in terms of the union of singular essence with material substrate, in an attempt to tie matter more closely to form. The material component of composite substances stands in potency to the actuality of individual substantial form. Similarly, all composites stand in potency to the pure actuality of the Prime Mover. As such, the unity of the first cause constitutes the final end of the multiplicity of substances in the sublunary world. By arguing that forms do not stand above and beyond things but that instead being inheres in beings, it was apparently Aristotle—not Plato—who first resolved the metaphysical dualism between the one and the many, the universal and the particular, and the singular and the collective.
Adrian Pabst, Metaphysics: The Creation of Hierarchy, ed. Conor Cunningham and Peter Candler, Interventions (Grand Rapids, MI; Cambridge, U.K.: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2012), 8–9.
The religious who concerns himself intently and devoutly with our Lord’s most holy life and passion will find there an abundance of all things useful and necessary for him. He need not seek for anything better than Jesus.
Thomas à Kempis, The Imitation of Christ (Oak Harbor, WA: Logos Research Systems, 1996), 56.
It is true, as has already been pointed out, that words are not everything, and ‘what we say with our lips’ does not necessarily represent ‘what we believe in our hearts’; but still the spoken confession is something to appeal to, and, broadly speaking, the public profession is in many cases the best, and sometimes the only, testimony that can be given to the reality of the belief to which it gives expression, especially if it be made as a solemn act, and in a case where no worldly advantage can be looked for from it. It forms something to appeal to afterwards. It not only makes an impression upon others, but it also steadies and strengthens the confessor’s own faith and purpose. It is a taking of sides. A man who has made his public confession of faith has committed himself, and is stronger for such an act. He has come out into the open, and given a pledge of the sincerity of his faith. An interesting and striking example of the value of such open profession is given by the story which S. Augustine relates in his Confessions of the conversion of the famous Roman rhetorician Victorinus. This man had for some time studied the Scriptures in secret, and used to say privately to the Christian priest Simplician, whom he knew well, that he was already a Christian. To this Simplician replied: ‘I shall not believe it, nor shall I reckon you among Christians, until I see you in the Church of Christ.’ Victorinus laughed and rejoined, ‘So then walls make a Christian.’ ‘Often,’ says Augustine, ‘he used to affirm that he was already a Christian. Often Simplician made the same answer. Often his jest about the walls was repeated. He was afraid to offend his friends, who were proud demon-worshippers.’ So things went on for a time, but at length
���By reading and reflection he gained strength; he feared to be denied by Christ before the holy angels, if he should fear to confess Him before men; he saw that he would be guilty of a great sin if he was ashamed of the sacraments of the humility of Thy Word, and not ashamed of the godless worship of those proud demons, whereof he had been a proud worshipper and participant; he was disgusted with vanity, and blushed for the truth; and so, quite suddenly and unexpectedly, he said to Simplician, “Let us go to church. I want to become a Christian.” Simplician went with him scarce able to contain himself for joy. He received the first sacraments of instruction, and not long afterwards gave in his name that he might receive the baptism of regeneration, to the great wonder of Rome and the great joy of the Church.… Finally, when the hour arrived for making the public profession of faith, which at Rome is made from a platform in full sight of the faithful, in a set form of words said by heart, the presbyters would have given Victorinus leave to make his profession in private, this being not unusual in the case of persons who had reasons for shrinking from the ordeal; but he deliberately chose to profess his salvation in the sight of the holy congregation. For there was no salvation in the rhetoric which he had taught; yet he had professed that openly.… And so, when he mounted the platform to deliver his profession, all who knew him uttered his name with a cry of delight. And who was there that knew him not? And so a whisper was heard running all round that jubilant assembly, “Victorinus! Victorinus!” Sudden was the sound of exultation, when they saw him; sudden was the hush of attention, that they might hear. He repeated the true faith with unfaltering confidence, and all would have clasped him to their hearts, yea, they did clasp him to their hearts with the arms of love and joy.’
Edgar C. S. Gibson, The Three Creeds, ed. W. C. E. Newbolt and Darwell Stone, The Oxford Library of Practical Theology (London; New York; Bombay; Calcutta: Longmans, Green, and Co., 1912), 14–16.
Love, when it seeth, cannot but cast out its spirit and strength upon amiable objects and things love-worthy. And what fairer things than Christ! O fair sun, and fair moon, and fair stars, and fair flowers, and fair roses, and fair lilies, and fair creatures! but, O ten thousand, thousand times fairer Lord Jesus! Alas, I wronged him in making the comparison this way. O black sun and moon; but O fair Lord Jesus! O black flowers, and black lilies and roses; but O fair, fair, ever fair Lord Jesus! O all fair things, black, deformed, and without beauty, when ye are set beside the fairest Lord Jesus! O black heaven, but O fair Christ! O black angels, but O surpassingly fair Lord Jesus.”
John Flavel, The Whole Works of the Reverend John Flavel, vol. 1 (London; Edinburgh; Dublin: W. Baynes and Son; Waugh and Innes; M. Keene, 1820), xix–xx.
The wicked shall be turned into hell,
And all the nations that forget God.
18 For the needy shall not alway be forgotten:
The expectation of the poor shall not perish for ever.
19 Arise, O Lord; let not man prevail:
Let the heathen be judged in thy sight.
20 Put them in fear, O Lord:
That the nations may know themselves to be but men. Selah. (Psalm 9:17–20, KJV 1900)
And further than this, it is necessary to remark, that, in spite of this general profession of zeal for the Gospel among all respectable persons at this day, nevertheless there is reason for fearing, that it is not altogether the real Gospel that they are zealous for. Doubtless we have cause to be thankful whenever we see persons earnest in the various ways I have mentioned. Yet, somehow, after all, there is reason for being dissatisfied with the character of the religion of the day; dissatisfied, first, because oftentimes these same persons are very inconsistent;—often, for instance, talk irreverently and profanely, ridicule or slight things sacred, speak against the Holy Church, or against the blessed Saints of early times, or even against the favoured servants of God, set before us in Scripture; or act with the world and the worse sort of men, even when they do not speak like them; attend to them more than to the Ministers of God, or are very lukewarm, lax, and unscrupulous in matters of conduct, so much so, that they seem hardly to go by principle, but by what is merely expedient and convenient. And then again, putting aside our judgment of these men as individuals, and thinking of them as well as we can (which of course it is our duty to do), yet, after all, taking merely the multitude of them as a symptom of a state of things, I own I am suspicious of any religion that is a people’s religion, or an age’s religion. Our Saviour says, “Narrow is the way.” This, of course, must not be interpreted without great caution; yet surely the whole tenor of the Inspired Volume leads us to believe that His Truth will not be heartily received by the many, that it is against the current of human feeling and opinion, and the course of the world, and so far forth as it is received by a man, will be opposed by himself, i.e., by his old nature which remains about him, next by all others, so far forth as they have not received it. “The light shining in darkness” is the token of true religion; and, though doubtless there are seasons when a sudden enthusiasm arises in favour of the Truth (as in the history of St. John the Baptist, in whose ��light” the Jews “were willing for a season to rejoice” [Jn 5:35] so as even “to be baptized of him, confessing their sins” [Mt 3:6]), yet such a popularity of the Truth is but sudden, comes at once and goes at once, has no regular growth, no abiding stay. It is error alone which grows and is received heartily on a large scale. St. Paul has set up his warning against our supposing Truth will ever be heartily accepted, whatever show there may be of a general profession of it, in his last Epistle, where he tells Timothy, among other sad prophecies, that “evil men and seducers shall wax worse and worse” (2 Tm 3:13). Truth, indeed, has that power in it, that it forces men to profess it in words; but when they go on to act, instead of obeying it, they substitute some idol in the place of it. On these accounts, when there is much talk of religion in a country, and much congratulation that there is a general concern for it, a cautious mind will feel anxious lest some counterfeit be, in fact, honoured instead of it: lest it be the dream of man rather than the verities of God’s word, which has become popular, and lest the received form have no more of truth in it than is just necessary to recommend it to the reason and conscience:—lest, in short, it be Satan transformed into an angel of light, rather than the Light itself, which is attracting followers.
John Henry Newman, “Self-Denial the Test of Religious Earnestness,” in John Henry Newman: Selected Sermons, ed. Ian Ker and Bernard McGinn, The Classics of Western Spirituality (New York; Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 1994), 88–89.
But if a man is in earnest in wishing to get at the depths of his own heart, to expel the evil, to purify the good, and to gain power over himself, so as to do as well as know the Truth, what is the difficulty?—a matter of time indeed, but not of uncertainty is the recovery of such a man. So simple is the rule which he must follow, and so trite, that at first he will be surprised to hear it. God does great things by plain methods; and men start from them through pride, because they are plain. This was the conduct of Naaman the Syrian. Christ says, “Watch and pray”; herein lies our cure. To watch and to pray are surely in our power, and by these means we are certain of getting strength. You feel your weakness; you fear to be overcome by temptation: then keep out of the way of it. This is watching. Avoid society which is likely to mislead you; flee from the very shadow of evil; you cannot be too careful; better be a little too strict than a little too easy,—it is the safer side. Abstain from reading books which are dangerous to you. Turn from bad thoughts when they arise, set about some business, begin conversing with some friend, or say to yourself the Lord’s Prayer reverently. When you are urged by temptation, whether it be by the threats of the world, false shame, self-interest, provoking conduct on the part of another, or the world’s sinful pleasures, urged to be cowardly, or covetous, or unforgiving, or sensual, shut your eyes and think of Christ’s precious blood-shedding. Do not dare to say you cannot help sinning; a little attention to these points will go far (through God’s grace) to keep you in the right way. And again, pray as well as watch. You must know that you can do nothing of yourself; your past experience has taught you this; therefore look to God for the will and the power; ask Him earnestly in His Son’s name; seek His holy ordinances. Is not this in your power? Have you not power at least over the limbs of your body, so as to attend the means of grace constantly? Have you literally not the power to come hither; to observe the Fasts and Festivals of the Church; to come to His Holy Altar and receive the Bread of Life? Get yourself, at least, to do this; to put out the hand, to take His gracious Body and Blood; this is no arduous work;—and you say you really wish to gain the blessings He offers. What would you have more than a free gift, vouchsafed “without money and without price”? So, make no more excuses; murmur not about your own bad heart, your knowing and resolving, and not doing. Here is your remedy.
John Henry Newman, “Knowledge of God’s Will without Obedience,” in John Henry Newman: Selected Sermons, ed. Ian Ker and Bernard McGinn, The Classics of Western Spirituality (New York; Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 1994), 75–76.
Or take another view of the subject. Is it not one of the most common excuses made by the poor for being irreligious, that they have had no education? as if to know much was a necessary step for right practice. Again, they are apt to think it enough to know and to talk of religion, to make a man religious. Why have you come hither to-day, my brethren?—not as a matter of course, I will hope; not merely because friends or superiors told you to come. I will suppose you have come to church as a religious act; but beware of supposing that all is done and over by the act of coming. It is not enough to be present here; though many men act as if they forgot they must attend to what is going on, as well as come. It is not enough to listen to what is preached; though many think they have gone a great way when they do this. You must pray; now this is very hard in itself to any one who tries (and this is the reason why so many men prefer the sermon to the prayers, because the former is merely the getting knowledge, and the latter is to do a deed of obedience): you must pray; and this I say is very difficult, because our thoughts are so apt to wander. But even this is not all;—you must, as you pray, really intend to try to practise what you pray for. When you say, “Lead us not into temptation,” you must in good earnest mean to avoid in your daily conduct those temptations which you have already suffered from. When you say, “Deliver us from evil,” you must mean to struggle against that evil in your hearts, which you are conscious of, and which you pray to be forgiven. This is difficult; still more is behind. You must actually carry your good intentions into effect during the week, and in truth and reality war against the world, the flesh, and the devil. And any one here present who falls short of this, that is, who thinks it enough to come to church to learn God’s will, but does not bear in mind to do it in his daily conduct, be he high or be he low, know he mysteries and all knowledge, or be he unlettered and busily occupied in active life, he is a fool in His sight, who maketh the wisdom of this world foolishness. Surely he is but a trifler, as substituting a formal outward service for the religion of the heart; and he reverses our Lord’s words in the text, “because he knows these things, most unhappy is he, because he does them not.”
John Henry Newman, “Knowledge of God’s Will without Obedience,” in John Henry Newman: Selected Sermons, ed. Ian Ker and Bernard McGinn, The Classics of Western Spirituality (New York; Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 1994), 73.
Take again another description of them. They have perhaps turned their attention to the means of promoting the happiness of their fellow-creatures, and have formed a system of morality and religion of their own; then they come to Scripture. They are much struck with the high tone of its precepts, and the beauty of its teaching. It is true, they find many things in it which they do not understand or do not approve; many things they would not have said themselves. But they pass these by; they fancy that these do not apply to the present day, (which is an easy way of removing any thing we do not like,) and on the whole they receive the Bible, and they think it highly serviceable for the lower classes. Therefore, they recommend it, and support the institutions which are the channels of teaching it. But as to their own case, it never comes into their minds to apply its precepts seriously to themselves; they know them already, they consider. They know them and that is enough; but as for doing them, by which I mean, going forward to obey them, with an unaffected earnestness and an honest faith acting upon them, receiving them as they are, and not as their own previously formed opinions would have them be, they have nothing of this right spirit. They do not contemplate such a mode of acting. To recommend and affect a moral and decent conduct (on whatever principles) seems to them to be enough. The spread of knowledge bringing in its train a selfish temperance, a selfish peaceableness, a selfish benevolence, the morality of expedience, this satisfies them. They care for none of the truths of Scripture, on the ground of their being in Scripture; these scarcely become more valuable in their eyes for being there written. They do not obey because they are told to obey, on faith; and the need of this divine principle of conduct they do not comprehend. Why will it not answer (they seem to say) to make men good in one way as well as another? “Abana and Pharpar, rivers of Damascus, are they not better than all the waters of Israel?” as if all the knowledge and the training that books ever gave had power to unloose one sinner from the bonds of Satan, or to effect more than an outward reformation, an appearance of obedience; as if it were not a far different principle, a principle independent of knowledge, above it and before it, which leads to real obedience, that principle of divine faith, given from above, which has life in itself, and has power really to use knowledge to the soul’s welfare; in the hand of which knowledge is (as it were) the torch lighting us on our way, but not teaching or strengthening us to walk.
John Henry Newman, “Knowledge of God’s Will without Obedience,” in John Henry Newman: Selected Sermons, ed. Ian Ker and Bernard McGinn, The Classics of Western Spirituality (New York; Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 1994), 72.
The multitude of men even who profess religion are in this state of mind. We will take the case of those who are in better circumstances than the mass of the community. They are well educated and taught; they have few distresses in life, or are able to get over them by the variety of their occupations, by the spirits which attend good health, or at least by the lapse of time. They go on respectably and happily, with the same general tastes and habits which they would have had if the Gospel had not been given them. They have an eye to what the world thinks of them; are charitable when it is expected. They are polished in their manners, kind from natural disposition or a feeling of propriety. Thus their religion is based upon self and the world, a mere civilization; the same (I say), as it would have been in the main, (taking the state of society as they find it,) even supposing Christianity were not the religion of the land. But it is; and let us go on to ask, how do they in consequence feel towards it? They accept it, they add it to what they are, they ingraft it upon the selfish and worldly habits of an unrenewed heart. They have been taught to revere it, and to believe it to come from God; so they admire it, and accept it as a rule of life, so far forth as it agrees with the carnal principles which govern them. So far as it does not agree, they are blind to its excellence and its claims. They overlook or explain away its precepts. They in no sense obey because it commands. They do right when they would have done right had it not commanded; however, they speak well of it, and think they understand it. Sometimes, if I may continue the description, they adopt it into a certain refined elegance of sentiments and manners, and then the irreligion is all that is graceful, fastidious, and luxurious. They love religious poetry and eloquent preaching. They desire to have their feelings roused and soothed, and to secure a variety and relief in that eternal subject which is unchangeable. They tire of its simplicity, and perhaps seek to keep up their interest in it by means of religious narratives, fictitious or embellished, or of news from foreign countries, or of the history of the prospects or successes of the Gospel; thus perverting what is in itself good and innocent. This is their state of mind at best; for more commonly they think it enough merely to show some slight regard for the subject of religion; to attend its services on the Lord’s day, and then only once, and coldly to express an approbation of it. But of course every description of such persons can be but general; for the shades of character are so varied and blended in individuals, as to make it impossible to give an accurate picture, and often very estimable persons and truly good Christians are partly infected with this bad and earthly spirit.
John Henry Newman, “Knowledge of God’s Will without Obedience,” in John Henry Newman: Selected Sermons, ed. Ian Ker and Bernard McGinn, The Classics of Western Spirituality (New York; Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 1994), 71–72.
“Letter from Prison” (1527)
Felix Mantz
My heart rejoices in God. He has given me much knowledge and wisdom, whereby I can escape the eternal and unending death. Therefore, I praise you, Lord Christ in heaven! For you have taken away my distress and unhappiness. You my savior have been sent by God as a model and light. You have called me before my final days into your heavenly kingdom so that I may have eternal joy with God and love him and his righteousness which remains both here and in eternity. Without this righteousness, nothing can help or endure. That is why so many people who do not have this are deceived by various empty opinions. Unfortunately, we find many people these days who exult in the gospel and teach, speak and preach much about it, yet are full of hatred and envy. They do not have the love of God in them, and their deceptions are known to everyone.
Daniel Liechty and Bernard McGinn, eds., Early Anabaptist Spirituality: Selected Writings, trans. Daniel Liechty, The Classics of Western Spirituality (New York; Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 1994), 18.
Long have we thristit, deir Brethren, to haif notifeit unto the warld the summe of that doctrin quhilk we professe, and for the quhilk we haif sustenit infamy and daingear. Bot sik hes bene the rage of Sathan against us, and against Chryst Jesus his eternall veritie laitlie borne amangis us, that to this day na tyme hes bene grantit unto us to cleir our [[sic]] consciencis, as maist glaidlie we wald have done; for how we have bene tossit ane haill yeir past, the maist pairt of Europe (as we suppoise) dois understand. Bot seing that of the infinite gudnes of our God (quha never sufferris his afflictit to be utterlie confoundit) above expectatioun, we have obteinit sum rest and libertie, we could not bot sett furth this breve and playne Confessioun of sik doctrine as is proponit unto us, and as we beleif and professe, pairtlie for satisfactioun of oure Brethren, quhais hartis we dout not have bene and yitt ar woundit be the dispytefull railling of sik as yitt have not leirnit to speik weill; and pairtlie for stopping of the mouthis of impudent blasphemaris, quha baldlie condempne that quhilk thay have neither hard nor yet understand. Not that we judge that the cankerit malice of sik is abill to be cured be this sempill Confessioun: Na, we knaw that the sweit, savour of the Evangell is, and sall be death to the sonis of perditioun. Bot we haif cheif respect to our weak and infirme brethren, to quham we wald communicat the bottome of oure hartis, least that thay be trubillit or careit away be the diversiteis of rumouris quhilk Sathan sparsis contrar us, to the defecting of this oure maist godlie interprise; Protesting, that gif any man will note in this oure Confessioun any article or sentence repugning to Godis holie word, that it wald pleis him of his gentilnes, and for Christiane cherities saik, to admoneise us of the samyn in writt; and We of our honour and fidelitie do promeis unto him satisfactioun fra the mouth of God, (that is, fra his holy Scriptures,) or ellis reformatioun of that quhilk he sall prove to be amyss. For God we taik to record in our conscienceis, that fra oure hartis we abhoir all sectis of heresye, and all techaris of erroneous doctrine; and that with all humylitie we embrace the puritie of Christis Evangell, quhilk is the onlie foode of our saullis; and thairfoir sua precious unto us, that we ar determinit to suffer the extremitie of warldlie daingear, rather than that we will suffer oure selvis to be defraudit of the same. For heirof we ar maist certainlie persuaidit, “That quhasoever denyis Chryst Jesus, or is eschameit of him, in presens of men, sall be denyit befoir the Father, and befoir his holie angellis.” And thairfoir be the assistance of the mychtie Spreitt of the same, oure Lord Jesus, we firmlie purpoise to abyde to the end in the Confessioun of this oure Faith.
John Knox, The Works of John Knox, vol. 2 (Edinburgh: J. Thin, 1854), 96.
HOMILETICAL AND PRACTICAL
Worldly-mindedness, in the garb of spirituality, attempting to make a farce of the solemn duties of spiritual life.—The contemporaries of Jesus, a figure of the common opposition to the gospel at all times.—The world insisting that the prophets of God should take their teaching from its varying opinions.—Puritanical strictness and moral laxity, the two great objections which the world urges against the preaching of the gospel.—From piping to mourning; or, the childish amusements of the world amid the solemnities of life.—Contrast between the wisdom of Christ and the folly of the world: 1. In the case of the latter, amusements are followed by mourning and death 2. in the case of the former, the solemnity of death by true enjoyment of life.—The Wisdom of the gospel is always justified in her children.—Those why are justified by Christ before God, should justify His by their lives before the world.
Starke:—From Hedinger:—When people dislike a doctrine, they abuse the teachers of it.—Majus:—Nobody is more exposed to sinful and rash judgments than ministers.—Cramer:—The children of God cannot escape the judgment of the world, whatever they may do.—If the conduct of Christ called down the rebuke of the world, how much more shall that of upright ministers be censured!—We are not to find fault with, but humbly to submit to, the teaching of heavenly wisdom.
Heubner:—John decried as a fanatic; Christ, as a man of the world: see how the world reads characters!
John Peter Lange and Philip Schaff, A Commentary on the Holy Scriptures: Matthew (Bellingham, WA: Logos Bible Software, 2008), 209–210.
20. I am crucified with Christ.
This explains the manner in which we, who are dead to the law, live to God. Ingrafted into the death of Christ, we derive from it a secret energy, as the twig does from the root. Again, the handwriting of the law, “which was contrary to us, Christ has nailed to his cross.” (Col. 2:14.) Being then crucified with him, we are freed from all the curse and guilt of the law. He who endeavours to set aside that deliverance makes void the cross of Christ. But let us remember, that we are delivered from the yoke of the law, only by becoming one with Christ, as the twig draws its sap from the root, only by growing into one nature.
Nevertheless I live.
To the feelings of man, the word Death is always unpleasant. Having said that we are “crucified with Christ,” he therefore adds, “that this makes us alive.”
Yet not I, but Christ liveth in me.
This explains what he meant by “living to God.” He does not live by his own life, but is animated by the secret power of Christ; so that Christ may be said to live and grow in him; for, as the soul enlivens the body, so Christ imparts life to his members. It is a remarkable sentiment, that believers live out of themselves, that is, they live in Christ; which can only be accomplished by holding real and actual communication with him. Christ lives in us in two ways. The one life consists in governing us by his Spirit, and directing all our actions; the other, in making us partakers of his righteousness; so that, while we can do nothing of ourselves, we are accepted in the sight of God. The first relates to regeneration, the second to justification by free grace. This passage may be understood in the latter sense; but if it is thought better to apply it to both, I will cheerfully adopt that view.
And the life which I now live in the flesh.
There is hardly a sentence here which has not been torn by a variety of interpretations. Some understand by the word flesh, the depravity of sinful nature; but Paul means by it simply the bodily life, and it is to this that the objection applies. “You live a bodily life; but while this corruptible body performs its functions,—while it is supported by eating and drinking, this is not the heavenly life of Christ. It is therefore an unreasonable paradox to assert, that, while you are openly living after the ordinary manner of men, your life is not your own.”
John Calvin and William Pringle, Commentaries on the Epistles of Paul to the Galatians and Ephesians (Bellingham, WA: Logos Bible Software, 2010), 74–75.
4 *And this observation shall doe no small service to assoile many doubtes, if the readers doe fitly apply it. For it is marvellous how much the unskilfull, yea some not utterly unlearned, are cumbred with such formes of speech, which they see spoken by Christ, which doe well agree neither with his godhead nor with his manhood, because they consider not that they doc agree with his person wherein he is shewed both God and man, and with the office of Mediator. And it is alway easie to see, how wel al things hang together, if they have a sober expositor, to examine so great mysteries with such devout reverence as they ought to be. But there is nothing that these furious and frantike spirits trouble not. They catch hold of those things that are spoken of his manhood, to take away the godhead: and likewise of those things that are spoken of his godhead to take away his manhood: and of those things that are so joyntly spoken of both natures, that they severally agree with neither, to take away both. But what is that else but to say, that Christ is not man, because he is God: and that he is not God, because he is man: and that he is neither man nor God, because he is both man and God? We therefore do determine that Christ, as he is both God and man, consisting of both natures, united, though not confounded, is our Lord and the true sonne of God, even according to this manhood, though not by reason of his manhood. For the error of Nestorius is to be driven far away from us, which when he went about rather to drawe in sunder, then to distinguish the nature, did by the meane imagine a double Christ. Whereas wee see that the Scripture crieth out with loude voice against it, where both the name of the sonne of God is given to him that was borne of the Virgin, and the Virgin her selfe is called the mother of our Lord. We must also beware of the madnesse of Entiches, least while we go about to shew the unitie of person, we destroy either nature.* For we have already alleaged so many testimonies, and there are every where so many other to be alleaged, where his godhead is distinguished from his manhood: as may stop the mouthes even of the most contentious. And a little hereafter I will adjoine some testimonies to confute better that fained devise, but at this present, one place shall content us. Christ woulde not have called his body a Temple, unlesse the godhead did distinctly dwell therein. Wherefore Nestorius was worthily condemned in the Synode at Ephesus, so also was Entiches afterward condemned in the Synode of Constantinople and Chalcedon: forasmuch as it is no more lawfull to confound the two natures in Christ, than it is to draw them in sunder.*
John Calvin and Thomas Norton, The Institution of the Christian Religion (London: Bonham Norton, 1599), 126–127.