Monday, 12 October 2020

Freedom in Christ

FROM Burk Parsons 

The Psalmist declared, “Oh how I love your law! It is my meditation all the day” (Ps. 119:97). Why would anyone love the law of God? Why would we love that which constantly tells us what miserable wretches we are, daily points out all our shortcomings, relentlessly reminds us of all our death-deserving sins, and keeps knocking us down to our knees, leaving us crying out for help?

The truth of the matter is that not just anyone loves the law of God but only those who have been set free by our law-giving, law-keeping, and law-liberating Savior. We love the law of God not because we possess some sort of inherent self-inflicting, self-deprecating sadistic disposition toward ourselves, but because, in His electing grace, God set His glorious and enduring love upon us, laid His eternal claim upon us, took hold of us and clutches us in the palm of His strong and steadfast hand, and made us His dutiful bondslaves that we might be free to delight in His law in our inner being (Rom. 7:22–25) and strive to observe all the commands of Christ (Matt. 28:20), who by no means abolished the Law but fulfilled it perfectly in our behalf (Matt. 5:17). His death is our life. His fulfillment is our freedom. His duty is our delight.

Our abundant life of freedom in Christ is not a freedom to do anything we want to do but to have the uninterrupted, Spirit-sustaining power to do what we know we ought to do as the Holy Spirit changes our wants and daily makes all of our God-given duties delightful as we rest in the finished work of Christ (Rom. 8:3–4).

The Holy Spirit sovereignly uses the law in several ways — to teach us about our Creator, to give us a glimpse of His righteousness, holiness, and justice, to restrain sin, to give us a glimpse of the heinous nature of our sin, to drive us to our knees in liberating repentance, to prompt us to cry out daily for help, to guide us in our lives as we strive to die more and more unto sin and live unto righteousness (WSC 35), and to encourage us to lift our eyes to Jesus Christ, the only mediator between God and man, who alone is our righteousness, who alone fulfilled the law perfectly, in whom we rest by faith, and faith alone, and to whom we are eternally united because the Father has declared us righteous on account of the substitutionary righteousness of Christ that has been imputed to us, and our sin imputed to Him, fully and finally.

Christian, Do You Love God’s Law?

FROM Sinclair Ferguson

At a PGA Tour tournament in October 2015, Ben Crane disqualified himself after completing his second round. He did so at considerable financial cost. No matter—Crane believed the personal cost of not doing it would be greater (encouraged by a devotional article he had read that morning by Davis Love III, the distinguished former Ryder Cup captain).

Crane realized he had broken one of the more recondite rules of golf. If I followed the story rightly, while in a hazard looking for his ball, he leaned his club on a stone. He abandoned the ball, took the requisite penalty for doing so, played on, and finished his round. He would have made the Friday night cut comfortably; a very successful weekend financially beckoned. Then Ben Crane thought: “Should I have included a penalty for grounding my club in a hazard?” Sure enough (Rule 13.4a). So he disqualified himself.

(Got it? Hopefully, no readers will lie awake tonight now knowing the trophy was won illegally.)

Crane has been widely praised for his action. No avalanche of spiteful or demeaning attacks on cyberspace or hate mail for being narrow-minded. All honor to him. Intriguingly, no one seems to have said or written, “Ben Crane is such a legalist.”

No, we are not starting a new sports column this month. But how odd it is to see so much praise for his detailed attention to the rules of golf, and yet the opposite when it comes to the rules of life, the (much more straightforward) law of God, even in the church.

There is a problem somewhere.

The Problem

Neither Jesus nor Paul had a problem with the law. Paul wrote that his gospel of grace upholds and establishes the law (Rom. 3:31)—even God’s laws in their negative form, since the “grace of God . . . teaches us to say ‘No’” (Titus 2:11–12 NIV). And remember Jesus’ words in Matthew 5:17–19? Our attitude to the law is a litmus test of our relationship to the kingdom of God.

So what is the problem? The real problem is that we do not understand grace. If we did, we would also realize why John Newton, author of “Amazing Grace,” could write, “Ignorance of the nature and design of the law is at the bottom of most religious mistakes.”

There is a deep issue here. In Scripture, the person who understands grace loves law. (Incidentally, mere polemics against antinomianism can never produce this.)

Think again of Ben Crane. Why keep the complex rules of golf? Because you love the game. Something similar, but greater, is true of the believer. Love the Lord, and we will love His law—because it is His. All is rooted in this beautiful biblical simplicity.

Think of it in terms of three men and the three “stages” or “epochs” they represent: Adam, Moses, and Jesus.

Adam

At creation, God gave commandments. They expressed His will. And since He is a good, wise, loving, and generous God, His commandments are always for our best. He wants to be a Father to us.

As soon as God created man and woman as His image (Gen. 1:26–28—a hugely significant statement), He gave them statutes to follow (v. 29). The context here makes clear the rationale: He is Lord; they are His image. He made them to reflect Him. He is the cosmic Overlord, and they are the earthly under-lords. His goal is their mutual enjoyment of one another and creation in a communion of life (1:26–2:3). So, He has given them a start—a garden in Eden (2:7). He wants them to extend that garden to the ends of the earth, and to enjoy it as miniature creators, images imitating the great original Creator (1:28–29).

God’s creation commands then had in view our reflecting His image and glory. His image-bearers are made to be like Him. In one form or another, all divine commands have this principle enshrined in them: “You are my image and likeness. Be like me!” This is reflected in His command: “You shall be holy, for I the Lord your God am holy” (Lev. 19:2).

Implied here is that God’s image-bearers are created, hardwired as it were, to reflect Him. Yes, there are external laws given to them, but those laws simply provide specific applications of the “laws” inbuilt in the divine image, laws that are already on the conscience.

It was instinctive then for Adam and Eve to imitate God, to be like Him, because they were created as His image and likeness—just as little Seth would instinctively behave like his father, Adam, because he was “in his likeness, after his image” (Gen. 5:3). Like father, like son.

But then came the fall: sin, lack of conformity to God’s revealed law, and distortion of the image resulted in malfunctions of the inner human instincts. The mirror image turned away from the gaze and the life of God, and since then all people (except Christ) have shared in this condition. The Lord remains the same. His design for His image remains the same. But the image is marred. The under-lord who was created to turn the dust into a garden has become dust himself:

By the sweat of your face
you shall eat bread,
till you return to the ground,
for out of it you were taken;
for you are dust,
and to dust you shall return. (Gen. 3:19)

We remain the image of God, and the laws that govern how we live best are unchanged. But now we are haggard and spent, twisted within, off center, distorted, carrying the aroma of death. Once chief operating officers, we are now vagrants who survive only by stealing from the Owner of the company (Yahweh and Son) who provided for us so generously. The law within functions still, but unreliably at best, not because the law is faulty but because we are.

For when Gentiles, who do not have the law, by nature do what the law requires, they are a law to themselves, even though they do not have the law. They show that the work of the law is written on their hearts, while their conscience also bears witness, and their conflicting thoughts accuse or even excuse them. (Rom. 2:14–15; see also 7:7–25)

But God wants His portrait—His image—back.

Moses

In essence, the Mosaic law—summarized in the Decalogue—was a rewriting on tablets of stone of the constitution written on man’s heart in creation. But now the law came to fallen man, and included sin offerings to address the new condition of humanity. It came to one distinct nation in one specific land. And it came until the coming of the Redeemer promised in Genesis 3:15. Therefore, it was given largely in negative terms, with added applications relevant for one specific nation in a single land, until the day when the types and sacrifices of the law would be fulfilled in Christ.

The law was given to people as “under-age children” (Gal. 3:23–4:5)—largely in negative form. We, too, teach our children: “Don’t stick the screwdriver into the electric socket!” long before we explain to them how electricity works. It is the simplest and safest way to protect them.

But it was already clear to old covenant believers that the law’s negations enshrined positive commands. The negative “No other gods before me” implied the full-color, developed picture of loving the Lord with all of one’s heart, and commandments two through four fleshed out that picture. The rest of the commandments were negatives to be developed in “Love your neighbor as yourself.”

In addition, since the animal sacrifices substituted for humans’ sins, they clearly lacked in proportion and could not deliver the forgiveness they pictured. An old covenant believer could work that out by going to the temple two days in a row: the priest was still standing at the altar, sacrificing all over again (Heb. 10:1–4, 11). The final adequate sacrifice was still to come.

And then the Decalogue was given civil application for the people in the land. But these local laws would no longer function in the same way for God’s people when they would be scattered throughout all the nations. The preservation and advance of His kingdom would then no longer be dependent on them.

All of this is well expressed in the Westminster Confession of Faith’s teaching that the “moral law” continues, the “ceremonial law” is fulfilled, and the “civil law” is abrogated, although we can clearly still learn a great deal from the ceremonial and civil legislation (19.3–5). An old covenant believer could understand this, albeit with less clarity. After all, only the Decalogue was placed in the ark, as an expression of the very character and heart of God. Yes, the law was one because the God who gave it is one. But the law of Moses was not monolithic—it was multidimensional, having a foundation and also spheres of application. The former was permanent; the latter were interim arrangements until the coming day dawned.

Old covenant believers really did love the law. They delighted in it. Their covenant God cared so much that He had rephrased His original instructions for them so that they could guide the people as sinners. Old covenant believers who knew and meditated on the Decalogue and the whole Torah (the law) would grow in their ability to apply it to every providence of God in their lives (Ps. 1). With all its rules and regulations, God’s law provided security and direction for the whole of life.

At the end of my freshman year, I taught in a school for young criminals. Their lives were heavily circumscribed. But surprisingly to me, there was an extraordinary esprit de corps, a pride in and common loyalty to the school. At first this puzzled me. And then I realized that these boys knew where they were. They were safe and safeguarded from themselves and their waywardness. The teachers disciplined them with affection. Perhaps for the first time in their lives, they were getting regular meals. Yes, the rules sometimes irked them—they were sinners, after all. But they were safe. Some of them even transgressed again just to get back to the environs of the school. I understood why even if I could not condone it. There they had care and security.

Paul uses a not-too-dissimilar illustration in Galatians 3–4. Old covenant believers were underage heirs, living in the restricted environment of the Mosaic law. But now in Christ, redemptive history has come of age. There is a new dimension of freedom. You don’t need to check the calendar to see if it is a holy day. You don’t need to check the meat or the label on your clothes. You don’t need to bring yet more sacrifices to the temple. Now that Christ has come, we have been let out of reform school. “So then, the law was our guardian until Christ came, in order that we might be justified by faith” (Gal. 3:24). Yet, the undergirding law—why would it change? Why would we be any less obedient to the same Father?

We are already discovering that we cannot fully understand the law of Moses without thinking about Jesus. God intends to get His portrait back.

Jesus

Jesus came to re-create a new and true humanity marked by a restored internal love for the Lord and a desire to be like Him. The law itself cannot accomplish that in us. It takes forgiveness, deliverance, and empowerment to do it. This God provides in Jesus Christ and by the Spirit.

For God has done what the law, weakened by the flesh, could not do. By sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh and for sin, he condemned sin in the flesh, in order that the righteous requirement of the law might be fulfilled in us, who walk not according to the flesh but according to the Spirit. (Rom. 8:3–4)

Perhaps because He knew people would draw the wrong conclusions from His teaching (they did), Jesus explained that He did not come to abolish but to fulfill the law. He would fill to the fullest the “shell” that Moses had given (Matt. 5:17–20). He made clear that He also meant to restore God’s portrait and image in us (Matt. 5:21–48). As we know, He drew a series of contrasts. But His words were not “It is written . . . but I say . . .”; rather, they were “You have heard that it was said. . . but I say. . . .” He was not contrasting His teaching with God’s law but with the rabbinical interpretations and distortions of it.

Yet, there is an important difference in the new covenant. Moses ascended the earthly mountain of God and came down with the law written on tablets of stone. But later, he expressed a longing that all the Lord’s people might have the Spirit (Num. 11:29). The law of Moses could command but it could not empower. By contrast, Jesus ascended the heavenly mountain of God and came down in the Spirit to write His law on our hearts.

The book of Hebrews twice explicitly states this by quoting Jeremiah 31:31 (Heb. 8:10; 10:16—the only “law” that can be in view here is the Ten Commandments). The Lord of the law has rewritten the law of the Lord onto our hearts by His Spirit. Empowered from within by the Spirit of the law-keeping Jesus, we love the law because we love the Lord. Just as in the old covenant, the principle of life was “I who love you am holy, love me in return and be holy as well,” so in the new covenant the principle of life can also be summed up in one sentence: “God’s Son Jesus is the image of God in our human nature; so be like Jesus.” After all, our becoming like Christ has always been the Father’s ultimate goal for us.

For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn among many brothers. And those whom he predestined he also called, and those whom he called he also justified, and those whom he justified he also glorified. (Rom. 8:29–30)

Loving God’s Law

“You’ve got to love the law” has a double meaning. You’ve got to love it—it is a command. But at the same time, “you’ve got to love it” because it is so good. Of course it is. It is a gift from your heavenly Father. It is meant to keep you safe and well and give you security and help you to negotiate life. Pick up the Westminster Shorter Catechism (or better, the Westminster Larger Catechism) and read the section on the commandments. There you will learn how to use and apply the rules of the game of life. They are much easier to understand than the rules of golf. When Jesus said, “If you love me, you will keep my commandments” (John 14:15), He was only echoing the words of His Father. Actually, it is simple, yet all-demanding. As the hymn by John H. Sammis states:

Trust and obey, for there’s no other way
To be happy in Jesus, but to trust and obey.

Yes Virginia, There Is A Law-Gospel Distinction

by R Scott Clark

When Martin Luther appeared before the Diet of Worms (1521), on the day after he asked for time to think, his examiner asked whether all the books stacked on the table were his. Luther began to answer by distinguishing between the various books. He fell back upon his theological and philosophical training which had taught him to appeal to particulars, that which distinguishes, over universals, that which unites. His examiner, an ecclesiastical functionary, became impatient and demanded a straightforward answer “without horns,” i.e., without equivocation, with an appeal to “the many” over “the one.” Knowing the game was up and that he had to tell the truth and live with the consequences replied, “I will reply without horns and without teeth.”

Universals And Particulars

Since Luther’s time scholars have not given up appealing to particulars over universals. We live in a time (late modernity) when the particular trumps the universal, where belief in universals is regarded with skepticism. I myself, in the study of Reformed orthodoxy, have appealed to particulars as a way of helping overturn the old, false narrative about Reformed orthodoxy—that it was deduced from a so-called “Central Dogma” (Zentraldogma), that it was dominated by Aristotelian philosophy, that it was rationalist, cold, and spiritually sterile. That caricature was a universal but not one that was inferred from the particulars, from the facts, from the primary sources. It was fabricated out of whole cloth, assumed on the basis of what “must be” (a priori), resting upon the flimsiest of premises.

Nevertheless, as useful as particulars are, universals remain. As I learned from Cornelius Van Til (1895–1987) we must account for both “the one” (universals) and the many (particulars). In the question of the history of Reformed theology, there are both. In his recent critique of Tullian Tchividjian one writer appeals to particulars and seems to suggest that there were no universals, no genuine commonalities between Lutherans and Melanchthonians (followers of Philipp Melanchthon), or between the various Lutherans and the Reformed or between the various Reformed writers in their use of the distinction between law and gospel. The rhetorical effect of his argument seems to be that there were so many particularities, so much diversity, that it is really meaningless to talk about “the distinction” between law and gospel but rather we may only talk about “this distinction” and “that distinction.” He writes:

Tchividjian’s penchant for throwing quotes around on his blog should not be mistaken for historical theology. Even a cursory glance at Reformed and Lutheran theologians from the time of the Reformation proves that the law-gospel distinction has a messy history once we move from the matter of justification to other thorny questions (e.g. does the gospel include repentance?). Before chastising other (anonymous) Reformed (and non-Reformed) preachers for confusing categories, perhaps Tchividjian could explain the similarities and differences between Luther, Melanchthon, Chemnitz, Zwingli, Bullinger, Calvin, Musculus, Zanchi, Ursinus, Owen, and Rutherford? 

Perhaps he could comment on the intra-Lutheran debates between the Philippists and the Gnesio-Lutherans? Philip Melanchthon, Erasmus Sarcerius, and Johann Spangenberg all include poenitentia in the Gospel and read Luke 24:47 as a reference to the Gospel. Johann Wigand and Jacob Heerbrand excluded poenitentia from the Gospel. Reformed theologians, Jerome Zanchi and Zacharias Ursinus, both took issue with certain Lutheran understandings of the law-gospel distinction. Moreover, there appears to be slight differences even among Reformed confessions on the nature of the gospel. With whom does Tchividjian agree and disagree? Simply asserting the importance of the distinction does not mean one has understood the distinction. As the saying goes: “You keep using that word, I do not think it means what you think it means.”

Tullian doesn’t claim to be a historical theologian but the writer of the critique does and as such there are some things that he seems to have omitted that we might have expected in his account. There are at least two aspects to the law-gospel distinction. There is the distinction itself, in se and then there is its application, its use. As I read the history of Protestant theology in the 16th and 17th century there was a fair degree of unity on the former and more diversity (as there is today) in the latter.

What Happened To The Distinction In The Reformed Vocabulary?

It’s important to understand a couple of things. First, in the modern period, the distinction between law and gospel was gradually eclipsed, particularly in Reformed and Presbyterian circles. I’ve tried to give a brief account of how and why that happened in the essay “Letter and Spirit: Law and Gospel in Reformed Preaching,” in R. Scott Clark, ed. Covenant, Justification and Pastoral Ministry: Essays by the Faculty of Westminster Seminary California (Phillipsburg: P&R Publishing, 2006), 331-63 (also available on iTunes. Here is a resource post on this question). As a consequence of this eclipse the distinction fell into disuse. Further, it became fairly common by the 1970s and 80s, in many quarters of American Reformed and Presbyterianism, to categorize the distinction as a purely Lutheran matter. This happens when secondary textbooks and surveys replace original sources (Ad fontes!). Textbook writers need clean, clear lines in order to tell a story.

This response on the OPC website is typical of the way Reformed folk came to talk in the 19th and 20th centuries about law and gospel. A correspondent writes to ask about attending an ELCA congregation. In the (anonymous) reply among the distinctions made between the Lutherans and the Reformed is the difference between the way the Reformed and the Lutherans relate law and gospel. 

The Law/Gospel distinction. Lutheranism tends to draw a very distinct and pronounced divide between Law and Gospel (as well as between Old Testament and New Testament). The Law is generally seen as an oppressive thing by Luther. The Law, for him, only seems to have one primary purpose; i.e., to act as a schoolmaster to lead a sinner to Christ, faith, and repentance. 

The Reformed, while affirming fully this purpose of the law, also teach other uses of the law. For instance, the Law is a guide even for the unbeliever. Luther seems to dismiss this use of the law. He also seems to believe that since the Christian is free from the law for his justification, somehow he is also free from the law for his sanctification. 

Calvin believed that the Law was a way in which God administers his common grace, using the law to suppress wickedness even among pagan peoples, and also promoting righteousness and social orderliness. And for Calvin the third use of the law is the “principal use, which pertains more closely to the proper purpose of the law [and] finds its place among believers in whose ‘hearts the ‘Spirit of God already lives and reigns” (Calvin’s Institutes, II. vii. 12). This is in keeping with the Psalmist’s statements, “I find my delight in your commandments, which I love” (Ps. 119:47, English Standard Version) and “Oh how I love your law! It is my meditation all the day” (Ps. 119:97, ESV), and with the Apostle Paul’s statement, “I delight in the law of God, in my inner being” (Rom. 7:22, ESV).

So, to summarize this point, for Luther the covenant God make with man seems to be completely one way. God makes covenant with man to save him and that’s it. The covenant has no stipulations for man, whereas in Calvin’s view of the covenant, it is a two-way street. Yes, God sovereignly administers his covenant to his people by grace alone, but every covenant has obligations. Every covenant has, in other words, Law and Gospel. So the Reformed tend not to separate Law and Gospel as dramatically as do the Lutherans.

I dissent. Calvin wrote:

For Paul often means by the term law the rule of righteous living by which God requires of us what is his own, giving us no hope of life unless we completely obey him, and adding on the other hand a curse if we deviate even in the slightest degree. This Paul does when he contends that we are pleasing to God through grace and are accounted righteous through his pardon, because nowhere is found that observance of the law for which the reward has been promised. Paul therefore justly makes contraries of the righteousness of the law and of that of the gospel [Romans 3:21 ff.; Galatians 3:10 ff.; etc.] (Institutes, 2.9.4)

Quotations like these are easily multiplied. Calvin not only distinguished explicitly, hermeneutically, between the law and the gospel as “contraries,” i.e., as competing principles relative to justification but he even more frequently distinguished between works and grace, by which he intended to teach essentially the same fundamental distinction as taught by Luther and Melanchthon.

The Reformed orthodox after Calvin spoke frequently of the distinction between law and gospel. Zacharias Ursinus (1534–83), a long-time student of Melanchthon, addressed the distinction explicitly in his Summa Theologiae (c. 1561):

Q.36 What distinguishes law and gospel? 

A: The law contains a covenant of nature begun by God with men in creation, that is, it is a natural sign to men, and it requires of us perfect obedience toward God. It promises eternal life to those keeping it, and threatens eternal punishment to those not keeping it. In fact, the gospel contains a covenant of grace, that is, one known not at all under nature. This covenant declares to us fulfillment of its righteousness in Christ, which the law requires, and our restoration through Christ’s Spirit. To those who believe in him, it freely promises eternal life for Christ’s sake (Larger Catechism, Q. 36).

Cast in terms of a covenant of works and a covenant of grace, Ursinus was saying that, on this point, the Reformed were essentially agreed with the Lutherans. He continued to make use of this distinction this way in his lectures on the Heidelberg Catechism (in his Summa Doctrinae). He even argued that the Heidelberg Catechism, of which he was the primary author and on which he was the authorized commentator, is organized by the distinction between law and gospel. Further, I don’t believe that, at the Lutheran and Reformed colloquies (Maulbraun or Montbeilard), in the 1560s and 80s, there was any substantial disagreement between the Reformed and the Lutherans on this principle.

Caspar Olevianus (1536–87), a contributor to the Heidelberg Catechism and a significant early formulator of the Reformed covenant theology (a reading of the history of redemption via covenants) argued explicitly, in his commentary on Romans, that the Reformed “retain” the distinction between law and gospel. Indeed he said that the whole book of Romans was about the distinction between law and gospel and at no time did he ever indicate that he thought there was any disagreement with the Lutherans on this point.

Theodore Beza (1534-1605), in his catechism written while Calvin was still alive, said:

We divide this Word into two principal parts or kinds: the one is called the ‘Law,’ the other the ‘Gospel.’ For all the rest can be gathered under the one or other of these two headings…Ignorance of this distinction between Law and Gospel is one of the principal sources of the abuses which corrupted and still corrupt Christianity (The Christian Faith, 1558)

He did not go on to explain he disagreed with the Lutherans and how he did not mean what they meant by “law” and “gospel” in this context.

In the late 16th century, William Perkins (1558–1602), one of the fathers of English Reformed theology (frequently called “Puritanism”) explained to future preachers:

The basic principle in application is to know whether the passage is a statement of the law or of the gospel. For when the Word is preached, the law and the gospel operate differently. The law exposes the disease of sin, and as a side-effect, stimulates and stirs it up. But it provides no remedy for it. However the gospel not only teaches us what is to be done, it also has the power of the Holy Spirit joined to it….A statement of the law indicates the need for a perfect inherent righteousness, of eternal life given through the works of the law, of the sins which are contrary to the law and of the curse that is due them…. By contrast, a statement of the gospel speaks of Christ and his benefits, and of faith being fruitful in good works (The Art of Prophesying, 1592, repr. Banner of Truth Trust,1996, 54–55).

Edward Fisher (c.1601–55), whose Marrow of Modern Divinity was endorsed by a number of English Reformed theologians and taken up again by the so-called “Marrow Men” (Thomas Boston and the Erskines) in the 18th century and still regarded as a gem of English theology wrote in 1645:

Now, the law is a doctrine partly known by nature, teaching us that there is a God, and what God is, and what he requires us to do, binding all reasonable creatures to perfect obedience, both internal and external, promising the favour of God, and everlasting life to all those who yield perfect obedience thereunto, and denouncing the curse of God and everlasting damnation to all those who are not perfectly correspondent thereunto. But the gospel is a doctrine revealed from heaven by the Son of God, presently after the fall of mankind into sin and death, and afterwards manifested more clearly and fully to the patriarchs and prophets, to the evangelists and apostles, and by them spread abroad to others; wherein freedom from sin, from the curse of the law, the wrath of God, death, and hell, is freely promised for Christ’s sake unto all who truly believe on his name

William Twisse (1578–1646), the first prolucutor (moderator) of the Westminster Assembly (1640s), which gave us the Westminster Confession and Catechisms, wrote in 1633:

How many ways does the Word of God teach us to come to the Kingdom of heaven?
Two.
Which are they?
The Law and the Gospel.
What says the Law?
Do this and live.
What says the Gospel?
Believe in Jesus Christ and you shall be saved.
Can we come to the Kingdom of God by the way of God’s Law?
No.
Why so?
Because we cannot do it.
Why can we not do it?
Because we are all born in sin.
What is it to be born in sin?
To be naturally prone to evil and …that that which is good.
How did it come to pass that we are all borne in sin?
By reason of our first father Adam.
Which way then do you hope to come tot he Kingdom of Heaven?
By the Gospel
What is the Gospel?
The glad tidings of salvation by Jesus Christ. To whom is the glad tidings brought:
To the righteous?
No.
Why so?
For two reasons.
What is the first?
Because there is none that is righteous and sin not.
What is the other reason?
Because if we were righteous, i.e., without sin we should have no need of Christ Jesus.
To whom then is this glad tiding brought?
To sinners.

What, to all sinners?

To whom then?
To such as believe and repent.

This is the first lesson, to know the right way to the Kingdom of Heaven.: and this consists in knowing the difference between the Law and the Gospel.

What does the Law require?
That we should be without sin.
What does the Gospel require?
That we should confess our sins, amend our lives, and then through faith in Christ we shall be saved.
The Law requires what?
Perfect obedience.
The Gospel [requires] what?
Faith and true repentance.

The Sum of Saving Knowledge written by David Dickson (1583–1663) and James Durham (1622–58) (see Chris Coldwell’s nice background here), which was bound with the Westminster Standards beginning c. 1650, distinguished clearly and structurally between law and gospel. They wrote:

The sum of the covenant of works, or of the law, is this: “If thou do all that is commanded, and not fail in any point, thou shalt be saved: but if thou fail, thou shalt die.” Rom. x. 5. Gal. iii 10, 12. 

The sum of the gospel, or covenant of grace and reconciliation, is this: “If thou flee from deserved wrath to the true Redeemer Jesus Christ, (who is able to save to the uttermost all that come to God through him,) thou shalt not perish, but “have eternal life.” Rom. x. 8, 9, 11.

Dickson and Durham were not paralyzed by “the many,” i.e., the alleged discrepancies between “this view” of law and gospel and “that view.” They made the distinction the way Protestants had been making the distinction for more than a century. The Sum was received by the Reformed as mainstream doctrine. This distinction wasn’t regarded as Lutheran or esoteric.

In the 20th century J. Gresham Machen (1881–1937), the founder of Westminster Seminary and the principal organizer of the Orthodox Presbyterian Church wrote in 1925:

A new and more powerful proclamation of law is perhaps the most pressing need of the hour; men would have little difficulty with the gospel if they had only learned the lesson of the law. As it is, they are turning aside from the Christian pathway; they are turning to the village of Morality, and to the house of Mr. Legality, who is reported to be very skillful in relieving men of their burdens… ‘Making Christ Master’ in the life, putting into practice ‘the principles of Christ’ by one’s own efforts-these are merely new ways of earning salvation by one’s obedience to God’s commands (What Is Faith?).

His rhetoric, aimed at mainline, liberal Protestantism (particularly mainline Presbyterianism, e.g., the PCUSA) is unintelligible without the assumption of a distinction between law and gospel.

Louis Berkhof (1873–1957), probably the dominant theologian of the Christian Reformed Church for the first half of the 20th century, whose influence continues to be felt even today, wrote:

The Churches of the Reformation from the very beginning distinguished between the law and the gospel as the two parts of the Word of God as a means of grace. This distinction was not understood to be identical with that between the Old and the New Testament, but was regarded as a distinction that applies to both Testaments. There is law and gospel in the Old Testament, and there is law and gospel in the New. The law comprises everything in Scripture which is a revelation of God’s will in the form of command or prohibition, while the gospel embraces everything, whether it be in the Old Testament or in the New, that pertains to the work of reconciliation and that proclaims the seeking and redeeming love o God in Christ Jesus (Systematic Theology, [Grand Rapids, 4th edn. 1941], 612).

It is hard to see how Berkhof does not fall under the censure of being “simplistic” or reductionist that has been leveled against Tullian and others who are enthusiastic (in the best) sense about recovering the distinction between law and gospel theologically and homiletically.

Finally, for this section, John Murray (1898–1975), the founding systematic theologian of old Westminster, wrote in 1957:

…the purity and integrity of the gospel stands or falls with the absoluteness of the antithesis between the function and potency of law, one the one hand, and the function and potency of grace, on the other (Principles of Conduct: Aspects of Biblical Ethics, 186)

Were there variations in the way the distinction was used? Certainly. Was the distinction widely employed and did it operate on the same principle across the centuries, until the 19th and 20th centuries? Yes.

The answer on the OPC webpage gives the strong impression that the Reformed do not also make a sharp distinction between law and gospel. As has been demonstrated here and has been shown in print and as been available, in English, freely, widely, and continuously on the internet since 2001, such an impression does not accord with the history and confession of the Reformed Churches.

Neither is the account of the Lutherans (as embodied either in their classical theologians or in the Book of Concord) accurate but it is the sort of textbook account one finds in various surveys. This way of speaking is probably derived from Herman Bavinck’s Reformed Dogmatics (4.454–55). Bavinck’s account of the Lutheran view probably reflects more what he was seeing in 19th-century Lutheranism than what was actually taught by the classical sources and in the Lutheran symbols. Geerhardus Vos, who gets quoted in this discussion, simply repeated Bavinck.

Not only do the Reformed and the Lutherans share common principles when it comes to distinguishing law and gospel, we also share common principles when it comes to distinguishing between the pedagogical, the civil, and normative or third use of the law. The term tertius usus legis (third use of the law) comes to us from Philipp Melanchthon (1497–1560). Luther did not use the expression but he did teach the substance. He was not aware of any significant difference between his teaching and Melanchthon’s on this issue. He certainly taught the substance of the third use (as a guide to sanctity) in his 1529 catechisms and in his responses to to the Antinomians. The Reformed did (and do) teach the 3rd use and we agree with the Lutherans that, even in the 3rd use it continues to have a pedagogical function. In the third part of the catechism, after explaining what the law of God requires of believers as a consequence of their justification, the catechism says:

115. Why then does God so strictly enjoin the ten Commandments upon us, since in this life no one can keep them? 

First, that as long as we live we may learn more and more to know our sinful nature, and so the more earnestly seek forgiveness of sins and righteousness in Christ; secondly, that without ceasing we diligently ask God for the grace of the Holy Spirit, that we be renewed more and more after the image of God, until we attain the goal of perfection after this life.

The first thing that catechism says is that the long continues to teach believers the greatness of their sin and misery. The notion that the law continues to have a pedagogical function even for Christians is not a distinctively Lutheran view. It is what the Reformed Churches confess.

How I Re-Learned The Distinction And How It Helped My Ministry

Because we lost our earlier vocabulary and our unashamed use of the distinction and because the distinction (and its rejection) came to be identified with denominational and partisan differences not only did Reformed and Presbyterian folk stop speaking about it but in too many places they openly opposed it. I cannot count the number of times people have told me that even to make the distinction is “Lutheran” and that anyone who makes the distinction is “Lutheran.” When I began to become Reformed circa 1980 I learned many new things but the distinction between law and gospel was not one of them. The folks who taught me were wonderful and they were life savers. They opened the Scriptures for me literally and metaphorically—they kept the Bible from becoming a closed book, available only to “spiritual giants” or some illuminati. Still, for the first 18 years of my Reformed life I did not hear much talk about the distinction. I heard the category invoked in seminary but it was never explained in any detail. I suppose those who used it assumed we knew what it meant. We didn’t.

I learned it from reading the Reformed orthodox writers, in primary sources and I became convinced of its truth but it would be several years before anyone would explain how it affected preaching. This was no small thing. For years I preached the gospel earnestly from all of Scripture, trying to preach “the whole counsel of God” but I had the idea that, in the conclusion of the sermon, I had to press the moral obligations of God’s law upon the people. I did this but I did so without having a clear distinction between law and gospel. Thus, as a consequence, rather than pressing the obligation of the moral law in its third use—the law-gospel distinction doesn’t destroy the third use; it saves it!—as a consequence of the gospel, to be lived out gratefully, by grace alone (Westminster Shorter Catechism Q/A 35), through faith alone I too often put my congregation back under the law for acceptance with God. I did not mean to do it. I did not know that I was doing it but I knew there was something desperately wrong with my preaching (many things, I suppose but this one great thing) but I did not know what it was because I lacked this category, this way of analyzing things. It made the congregation restless. It made me miserable. My preaching was infected with disease and I didn’t know what it was and I didn’t know how to treat it.

Once my beloved senior pastor Norman “Nub” Hoeflinger, with whom I served for two years, told me of the time a parishioner asked him why he was so dissatisfied with the congregation. He was shocked because he didn’t think he was but they felt he was. We talked about it because he still struggled with it and so did I but we never came to a resolution. We couldn’t solve the problem because neither one of us—Nub graduated from WTS in 1955 and I graduated from WSC in 1987—were given these categories relative to preaching. It wasn’t until Mike Horton explained the distinction in a brief 1998 conference talk that I understood with any conceptual clarity what it meant to distinguish between law and gospel in preaching. I learned how to preach the law in all its ferocity, the gospel in all its sweetness, and how, in Christ, the law and the gospel do agree with each other. Believers are no longer under condemnation and now we are free, by God’s grace and in union with Christ, to seek to bring our lives into conformity with God’s holy law.

This Is No Small Thing

The reader should understand that the recovery of the distinction between law and gospel was essential to the Reformation. Without it there would have been no Protestantism, no Luther as we know him, no Calvin as we know him. It was a sine qua non and it did not happen overnight. Luther gradually recovered the distinction from 1513–21 (and beyond). Even as he matured through the 1520s and into the mid 30s Luther was still perfecting his language about law and gospel. Still, it was clear enough that it was one of his major criticisms of Erasmus in was arguably his greatest work, De servo arbitrio (1525) where he lambasted the moralist humanist Erasmus (whose work was delightful when skewering Roman excesses and ignorance and truly dreary when doing theology) for confusing law and gospel. I commend to you the reading of Bondage of the Will. You won’t regret it. Melanchthon, of course, picked up this basic distinction in his Loci Communes (1521), which became the basic textbook of the Reformation, which clearly influenced Calvin’s 1536 Institutes. Through the 16th and 17th centuries, that there was a basic, hermeneutical or theological distinction in Scripture between those words that said, “do this and live” and “for God so loved the world” became a fundamentum (foundation) of Protestant theology and understanding of Scripture. At its core that distinction, as you’ve seen, taught that when Scripture promises life or acceptance with God on the basis of our performance of the law or our obedience, that is law. When it promises life or acceptance with God on the basis (implicitly or explicitly) of Christ’s obedience for us, received through faith (resting and receiving) alone—whether looking prospectively from the OT or looking retrospectively from the New—that is gospel. That was the res or the stuff of the distinction.

Yes, there were differences of opinion about the implications or application of the distinction. There were differences of opinion (not doctrine) over whether we should include repentance under law or gospel (e.g., Olevianus includes it under law). Those debates were really about definitions. If a writer was using the term gospel broadly he might say one thing. If he was using it narrowly, he might say another.

The question I have is whether those differences of opinion were so great as to render the distinction virtually meaningless. I don’t think so. One prima facie reason why I don’t think so is that when the Reformed spoke about the distinction, they did so usually without qualifying it in the way that the critic implies. E.g., when the fellow whom I’ve studied the most, Caspar Olevianus spoke about it he simply wrote of the “distinction” (discrimen) between law and gospel. He didn’t say, “our” or “the Reformed” or “their” (Lutheran) distinction. He invoked the distinction as if everyone knew what he was saying. That is true of Beza, Perkins, and many other Reformed writers whose use I’ve documented (see the resource page).

The Hillary Question: What Does It Matter?

It is ironic that we’re having a controversy over sanctification, because, of course, sanctification is the process of being conformed to Christ. There are many bad things about such a controversy, e.g., the desire to “win” and to “be right” rather than to “get it right” and to help. One good thing about controversy, however, is that it is an opportunity to learn (or relearn) basics and to grow.

The medieval church confused law and gospel for most of a millennium. God was gracious and continued to save his church but Christ’s glory was diminished by the confusion and much harm was done. The recovery of this distinction was among the most powerful engines of the Reformation and its something of which no Reformed person should ever be ashamed. Ever.

The distinction is not mere theory. It’s essential to the ministry of the Word. It’s essential to the way we care for the sheep whom God has entrusted to us. We need to know, in the pulpit, what we’re doing. Are we preaching the law or the gospel? How do those two principles relate to the passage at hand? (To ask the question isn’t to answer it!). I don’t want young preachers (or old ones) to do to their congregation what I did to mine: to put them back under the law for justification.  I want the gospel preached freely and graciously. I want the law explained winsomely to God’s people, who’ve embraced the gospel,  who want to obey. Yes, there is a place for holy fear—of displeasing our heavenly Father, not that he will reject those for whom Christ efficaciously gave his life but because we love our Father who first loved us in Christ.

We can’t get any of that right until and unless we distinguish the way our Reformed forefathers did between law and gospel. That distinction is essential to the message that we need to communicate to a lost and dying world.

The Use of the Law in Evangelism

by Sinclair B. Ferguson

January 13, 2009

Incorporating the Law into the gospel presentation does many things. It primarily shows the sinner that he is a criminal, and that God is his judge. The Law (in the hand of the Holy Spirit) stops his mouth and leaves him guilty before God (see Romans 3:19-20). It reveals that he deserves nothing but judgement for his crimes. Like a faithful prosecutor, it points its accusing finger, and so the sinner’s stirred conscience bears witness and also points its finger at the criminal (see Romans 2:15). The verdict is ‘guilty,’ and the condemnation is just.

This is the scenario that I try and paint for the sinner. I do my best to put him in the courtroom on the Day of Judgement, with the hope that he will understand the mercy that God offers him in Christ.

For years when I have done this, I have then said, ‘You broke God’s Law, and Jesus paid your fine in his life’s blood.’ But, early in 2008, I added the words, ‘It was a legal transaction. You broke God’s Law (the Ten Commandments), and Jesus paid your fine. That means that God can legally dismiss your case. You can leave the courtroom on the Day of Judgement because another paid your fine. Does that make sense?’

From the first time I said those words, I noticed again and again, light go on in the eyes of my hearers. While this is certainly not a magic formula, many suddenly understood what I was trying to say when I explained the gospel that way. I can’t point to a Bible verse that uses this exact language, but I can say that legality is the essence of the cross. It was God’s love for justice and for guilty sinners, that drove him to Calvary.

Man is unique among God’s creation. He is forensic by nature. He intuitively understands the principles of law, retribution and mercy, because he is made in the image of God. That’s why every civilization sets up court systems. That’s why there is a resonance with a sinner (see Romans 2:12-16). So when Paul then uses the Law to bring the knowledge of sin, he knows that he will find reverberation in their hearts (see Romans 2:21-24).

God is the ‘habitation of Justice’ (see Jeremiah 21:33). We are guilty criminals. The fine has been paid, and we can leave the courtroom. So carefully explaining the gospel message, using legal vernacular to those whose understanding is ‘darkened,’ gives new light on what they before perceived to be just an old and irrelevant story. It’s as though they suddenly say, ‘So that’s what the cross was about!’ And that’s what we want them to know.

The Law Renders Us Inexcusable and Drives Us Into Despair

BY JOHN CALVIN

But, in order that our guilt may arouse us to seek pardon, it behooves us, briefly, to know how by our instruction in the moral law we are rendered more inexcusable. If it is true that in the law we are taught the perfection of righteousness, this also follows: the complete observance of the law is perfect righteousness before God. By it man would evidently be deemed and reckoned righteous before the heavenly judgment seat. Therefore Moses, after he had published the law, did not hesitate to call heaven and earth to witness that he had "set before Israel life and death, good and evil" [ Deuteronomy 30:19 p.]. We cannot gainsay that the reward of eternal salvation awaits complete obedience to the law, as the Lord has promised. On the other hand, it behooves us to examine whether we fulfill that obedience, through whose merit we ought to derive assurance of that reward. What point is there to see in the observance of the law the proffered reward of eternal life if, furthermore, it is not clear whether by this path we may attain eternal life. At this point the feebleness of the law shows itself. Because observance of the law is found in none of us, we are excluded from the promises of life and fall back into the mere curse. I am telling not only what happens but what must happen. For since the teaching of the law is far above human capacity, a man may indeed view from afar the proffered promises, yet he cannot derive any benefit from them. Therefore this thing alone remains: that from the goodness of the promises he should the better judge his own misery, while with the hope of salvation cut off he thinks himself threatened with certain death. On the other hand, horrible threats hang over us, constraining and entangling not a few of us only, but all of us to a man. They hang over us, I say, and pursue us with inexorable harshness, so that we discern in the law only the most immediate death.

NEVERTHELESS THE PROMISES IN THE LAW ARE NOT WITHOUT MEANING

Therefore if we look only upon the law, we can only be despondent, confused, and despairing in mind, since from it all of us are condemned and accursed [Galatians 3:10]. And it holds us far away from the blessedness that it promises to its keepers. Is the Lord, you will ask, mocking us in this way? How little different from mockery is it to show forth the hope of happiness, to invite and attract us to it, to assure us that it is available, when all the while it is shut off and inaccessible? I reply: even if the promises of the law, in so far as they are conditional, depend upon perfect obedience to the law — which can nowhere be found — they have not been given in vain. For when we have learned that they will be fruitless and ineffectual for us unless God, out of his free goodness, shall receive us without looking at our works, and we in faith embrace that same goodness held forth to us by the gospel, the promises do not lack effectiveness even with the condition attached. For the Lord then freely bestows all things upon us so as to add to the full measure of his kindness this gift also: that not rejecting our imperfect obedience, but rather supplying what is lacking to complete it, he causes us to receive the benefit of the promises of the law as if we had fulfilled their condition. But since we will have to discuss this question more fully under the heading of justification by faith, we will not pursue it farther for the present.

THE FULFILLMENT OF THE LAW IS IMPOSSIBLE FOR US

We have said that the observance of the law is impossible. Since this is commonly looked upon as a very absurd opinion — Jerome does not hesitate to anathematize it — we ought at once to explain and confirm it in a few words. I do not tarry over what Jerome thinks; let us rather inquire what is true. Here I shall not weave long circumlocutions of various kinds of possibilities. I call "impossible" what has never been, and what God's ordination and decree prevents from ever being. If we search the remotest past, I say that none of the saints, clad in the body of death [cf. Romans 7:24], has attained to that goal of love so as to love God "with all his heart, all his mind, all his soul, and all his might"[Mark 12:30, and parallels]. I say furthermore, there was no one who was not plagued with concupiscence. Who will contradict this? Indeed, I see what sort of saints we imagine in our foolish superstition; the heavenly angels can scarcely compare with them in purity! But this goes against both Scripture and the evidence of experience. I further say that there will be no one hereafter who will reach the goal of true perfection without sloughing off the weight of the body. For this point there are enough manifest testimonies of Scripture. "There is no righteous man upon the earth who... does not sin," said Solomon [ Ecclesiastes 7:21, Vg.; cf. 1 Kings 8:46 p.]. Moreover, David says: "Every man living will be unrighteous before thee" [Psalm 143:2]. Job affirms the same idea in many passages [cf.Job 9:2; 25:4]. Paul expresses it most clearly of all: "The flesh lusts against the Spirit, and the Spirit lusts against the flesh" [ Galatians 5:17]. That all those under the law are accursed he proves by no other reason, except that "it is written, 'Cursed be every one who will not abide by all things written in the book of the law'" [Galatians 3:10; Deuteronomy 27:26]. Here he is obviously intimating, in fact assuming, that no one can so abide. But whatever has been declared in Scripture it is fitting to take as perpetual, even as necessary. The Pelagians plagued Augustine with such subtleties as these. They claimed that it was doing an injustice to God to assume that he demanded more of believers than they were able to carry out through his grace. He, to escape their slander, admitted that the Lord could indeed, if he so willed, elevate mortal man to angelic purity; but that he had never done, nor ever would do anything contrary to what he had declared in the Scriptures.

And I do not deny this, but yet add that it is ill-advised to pit God's might against his truth. Therefore, if someone says that what the Scriptures declare will not be, cannot be, such a statement is not to be scoffed at. But suppose they dispute about the Word itself. The Lord, when his disciples asked, "Who can be saved?" [ Matthew 19:25], replied: "With men this is indeed impossible, but with God all things are possible" [ Matthew 19:26]. Also, Augustine compeningly contends that in this flesh we never render to God the love we lawfully owe him. He says: "Love so follows knowledge that no one can love God perfectly who does not first fully know his goodness. While we wander upon the earth, 'we see in a mirror dimly' [ 1 Corinthians 13:12]. Therefore, it follows that our love is imperfect." Let us be quite agreed, then, that the law cannot be fulfilled in this life of the flesh, if we observe the weakness of our own nature; as will, moreover, be shown from another passage of Paul [ Romans 8:3]. (The law shows the righteousness of God, and as a mirror discloses our sinfulness, leading us to implore divine help, 6-9)

THE SEVERITY OF THE LAW TAKES AWAY FROM US ALL SELF-DECEPTION

But to make the whole matter clearer, let us survey briefly the function and use of what is called the "moral law." Now, so far as I understand it, it consists of three parts. The first part is this: while it shows God's righteousness, that is, therighteousness alone acceptable to God, it warns, informs, convicts, and lastly condemns, every man of his own unrighteousness. For man, blinded and drunk with self-love, must be compelled to know and to confess his own feebleness and impurity. If man is not clearly convinced of his own vanity, he is puffed up with insane confidence in his own mental powers, and can never be induced to recognize their slenderness as long as he measures them by a measure of his own choice. But as soon as he begins to compare his powers with the difficulty of the law, he has something to diminish his bravado. For, however remarkable an opinion of his powers he formerly held, he soon feels that they are panting under so heavy a weight as to stagger and totter, and finally even to fall down and faint away. Thus man, schooled in the law, sloughs off the arrogance that previously blinded him.

Likewise, he needs to be cured of another disease, that of pride, with which we have said that he is sick. So long as he is permitted to stand upon his own judgment, he passes off hypocrisy as righteousness; pleased with this, he is aroused against God's grace by I know not what counterfeit acts of righteousness. But after he is compelled to weigh his life in the scales of the law, laying aside all that presumption of fictitious righteousness, he discovers that he is a long way from holiness, and is in fact teeming with a multitude of vices, with which he previously thought himself undefiled. So deep and tortuous are the recesses in which the evils of covetousness lurk that they easily deceive man's sight. The apostle has good reason to say: "I should not have known covetousness, if the law had not said, 'You shall not covet'" [ Romans 7:7]. For if by the law covetousness is not dragged from its lair, it destroys wretched man so secretly that he does not even feel its fatal stab.

THE PUNITIVE FUNCTION OF THE LAW DOES NOT DIMINISH ITS WORTH

The law is like a mirror. In it we contemplate our weakness, then the iniquity arising from this, and finally the curse coming from both — just as a mirror shows us the spots on our face. For when the capacity to follow righteousness fails him, man must be mired in sins. After the sin forthwith comes the curse. Accordingly, the greater the transgression of which the law holds us guilty, the graver the judgment to which it makes us answerable. The apostle's statement is relevant here: "Through the law comes knowledge of sin" [ Romans 3:20]. There he notes only its first function, which sinners as yet unregenerate experience. Related to this are these statements: "Law slipped in, to increase the trespass" [ Romans 5:20], and thus it is "the dispensation of death" [2 Corinthians 3:7] that "brings wrath" [ Romans 4:15], and slays. There is no doubt that the more clearly the conscience is struck with awareness of its sin, the more the iniquity grows. For stubborn disobedience against the Lawgiver is then added to transgression. It remains, then, to the law to arm God's wrath for the sinner's downfall, for of itself the law can only accuse, condemn, and destroy. As Augustine writes: "If the Spirit of grace is absent, the law is present only to accuse and kill us." But when we say that, we neither dishonor the law, nor detract at all from its excellence. Surely if our will were completely conformed and composed to obedience to the law, its knowledge alone would suffice to gain salvation. Yet, since our carnal and corrupted nature contends violently against God's spiritual law and is in no way corrected by its discipline, it follows that the law which had been given for salvation, provided it met with suitable hearers, turns into an occasion for sin and death. For, since all of us are proved to be transgressors, the more clearly it reveals God's righteousness, conversely the more it uncovers our iniquity. The more surely it confirms the reward of life and salvation as dependent upon righteousness, the more certain it renders the destruction of the wicked. These maxims — far from abusing the law — are of the greatest value in more clearly commending God's beneficence. Thus it is clear that by ourwickedness and depravity we are prevented from enjoying the blessed life set openly before us by the law. Thereby the grace of God, which nourishes us without the support of the law, becomes sweeter, and his mercy, which bestows that grace upon us, becomes more lovely. From this we learn that he never tires in repeatedly benefiting us and in heaping new gifts upon us.

THE PUNITIVE FUNCTION OF THE LAW IN ITS WORK UPON BELIEVERS AND UNBELIEVERS

The wickedness and condemnation of us all are sealed by the testimony of the law. Yet this is not done to cause us to fall down in despair or, completely discouraged, to rush headlong over the brink — provided we duly profit by the testimony of the law. It is true that in this way thewicked are terrified, but because of their obstinacy of heart. For the children of God the knowledge of the law should have another purpose. The apostle testifies that we are indeed condemned by the judgment of the law, "so that every mouth may be stopped, and the whole world may be held accountable to God" [ Romans 3:19]. He teaches the same ideain yet another place: "For God has shut up all men in unbelief," not that he may destroy all or suffer all to perish, but "that he may have mercy upon all" [ Romans 11:32]. This means that, dismissing the stupid opinion of their own strength, they come to realize that they stand and are upheld by God's hand alone; that, naked and empty-handed, they flee to his mercy, repose entirely in it, hide deep within it, and seize upon it alone for righteousness and merit. For God's mercy is revealed in Christ to all who seek and wait upon it with true faith, In the precepts of the law, God is but the rewarder of perfect righteousness, which all of us lack, and conversely, the severe judge of evil deeds. But in Christ his face shines, full of grace and gentleness, even upon us poor and unworthy sinners.

THE LAW, AS AUGUSTINE STATES, BY ACCUSING MOVES US TO SEEK GRACE

Augustine often speaks of the value of calling upon the grace of His help. For example, he writes to Hilary: "The law bids us, as we try to fulfill its requirements, and become wearied in our weakness under it, to know how to ask the help of grace." He writes similarly to Asellius: "The usefulness of the law lies in convicting man of his infirmity and moving him to callupon the remedy of grace which is in Christ." Again, to Innocent of Rome: "The law commands; grace supplies the strength to act." Again, to Valentinus: "God commands what we cannot do that we may know what we ought to seek from him." Again: "The law was given to accuse you; that accused you might fear; that fearing you might beg forgiveness; and that you might not presume on your own strength." Again: "The law was given for this purpose: to make you, being great, little; to show that you do not have in yourself the strength to attain righteousness, and for you, thus helpless, unworthy, and destitute, to flee to grace." Afterward he addresses God: "So act, O Lord; so act, O merciful Lord. Command what cannot be fulfilled. Rather, command what can be fulfilled only through thy grace so that, since men are unable to fulfill it through their own strength, every mouth may be stopped, and no one may seem great to himself. Let all be little ones, and let all the world be guilty before God."

But it is silly of me to amass so many testimonies, since that holy man has written a work specifically on this topic, entitled On the Spirit and the Letter. He does not as expressly describe the second value of the law,either because he knew that it depended upon the first, or because he did not grasp it thoroughly, or because he lacked words to express its correct meaning distinctly and plainly enough. Yet this first function of the law is exercised also in the reprobate. For, although they do not proceed so far with the children of God as to be renewed and bloom again in the inner man after the abasement of their flesh, but are struck dumb by the first terror and lie in despair, nevertheless, the fact that their consciences are buffeted by such waves serves to show forth the equity of the divine judgment. For the reprobate always freely desire to evade God's judgment. Now, although that judgment is not yet revealed, so routed are they by the testimony of the law and of conscience, that they betray in themselves what they have deserved.

THE LAW AS PROTECTION OF THE COMMUNITY FROM UNJUST MEN

The second function of the law is this: at least by fear of punishment to restrain certain men who are untouched by any care for what is just and right unless compelled by hearing the dire threats in the law. But they are restrained, not because their inner mind is stirred or affected, but because, being bridled, so to speak, they keep their hands from outward activity, and hold inside the depravity that otherwise they would wantonly have indulged. Consequently, they are neither better nor more righteous before God. Hindered by fright or shame, they dare neither execute what they have conceived in their minds, nor openly breathe forth the rage of their lust. Still, they do not have hearts disposed to fear and obedience toward God. Indeed, the more they restrain themselves, the more strongly are they inflamed; they burn and boil within, and are ready to do anything or burst forth anywhere — but for the fact that this dread of the law hinders them. Not only that — but so wickedly do they also hate the law itself, and curse God the Lawgiver, that if they could, they would most certainly abolish him, or they cannot bear him either when he commands them to do right, or when he takes vengeance on the despisers of his majesty, all who are still unregenerate feel — some more obscurely, some more openly — that they are not drawn to obey the law voluntarily, but impelled by a violent fear do so against their will and despite their opposition to it.

But this constrained and forced righteousness is necessary for the public community of men, for whose tranquillity the Lord herein provided when he took care that everything be not tumultuously confounded. This would happen if everything were permitted to all men. Nay, even for the children of God, before they are called and while they are destitute of the Spirit of sanctification [Romans 1:4, Vg. etc.], so long as they play the wanton in the folly of the flesh, it is profitable for them to undergo this tutelage. While by the dread of divine vengeance they are restrained at least from outward wantonness, with minds yet untamed they progress but slightly for the present, yet become partially broken in by bearing the yoke of righteousness. As a consequence, when they are called, they are not utterly untutored and uninitiated in discipline as if it were something unknown. The apostle seems specially to have alluded to this function of the law when he teaches "that the law is not laid down for the just but for the unjust and disobedient, for the ungodly and sinners, for the unholy and profane, for murderers of parents, for manslayers, fornicators, perverts, kidnapers, liars, perjurers, and whatever else runs counter to sound doctrine" [1 Timothy 2:9-20]. He shows in this that the law is like a halter to check the ragtag and otherwise limitlessly ranging lusts of the flesh.

THE LAW A DETERRENT TO THOSE NOT YET REGENERATE

What Paul says elsewhere, that "the law was for the Jews a tutor unto Christ" [ Galatians 3:24], may be applied to both functions of the law. There are two kinds of men whom the law leads by its tutelage to Christ.

Of the first kind we have already spoken: because they are too full of their own virtue or of the assurance of their own righteousness, they are not fit to receive Christ's grace unless they first be emptied. Therefore, through the recognition of their own misery, the law brings them down to humility in order thus to prepare them to seek what previously they did not realize they lacked.

Men of the second kind have need of a bridle to restrain them from so slackening the reins on the lust of the flesh as to fall clean away from allpursuit of righteousness. For where the Spirit of God does not yet rule, lusts sometimes so boil that there is danger lest they plunge the soul bound over to them into forgetfulness and contempt of God. And such would happen if God did not oppose it with this remedy. Therefore, if he doesnot immediately regenerate those whom he has destined to inherit his Kingdom, until the time of his visitation, he keeps them safe through the works of the law under fear [cf. 1 Peter 2:12]. This is not that chaste and pure fear such as ought to be in his sons, but a fear useful in teaching them true godliness according to their capacity. We have so many proofs of this matter that no example is needed. For all who have at any time groped about in ignorance of God will admit that it happened to them in such a way that the bridle of the law restrained them in some fear and reverence toward God until, regenerated by the Spirit, they began wholeheartedly to love him.

EVEN THE BELIEVERS HAVE NEED OF THE LAW

The third and principal use, which pertains more closely to the proper purpose of the law, finds its place among believers in whose hearts the Spirit of God already lives and reigns. For even though they have the law written and engraved upon their hearts by the finger of God [ Jeremiah 31:33; Hebrews 10:16], that is, have been so moved and quickened through the directing of the Spirit that they long to obey God, they still profit by the law in two ways.Here is the best instrument for them to learn more thoroughly each day the nature of the Lord's will to which they aspire, and to confirm them in the understanding of it. It is as if some servant, already prepared with all earnestness of heart to commend himself to his master, must search out and observe his master's ways more carefully in order to conform and accommodate himself to them. And not one of us may escape from this necessity. For no man has heretofore attained to such wisdom as to be unable, from the daily instruction of the law, to make fresh progress toward a purer knowledge of the divine will.

Again, because we need not only teaching but also exhortation, the servant of God will also avail himself of this benefit of the law: by frequent meditation upon it to be aroused to obedience, be strengthened in it, and be drawn back from the slippery path of transgression. In this way the saints must press on; for, however eagerly they may in accordance with the Spirit strive toward God's righteousness, the listless flesh always so burdens them that they do not proceed with due readiness. The law is to the flesh like a whip to an idle and balky ass, to arouse it to work. Even for a spiritual man not yet free of the weight of the flesh the law remains a constant sting that will not let him stand still. Doubtless David was referring to this use when he sang the praises of the law: "The law of the Lord is spotless, converting souls;... the righteous acts of the Lord are right, rejoicing hearts; the precept of the Lord is clear, enlightening the eyes," etc. [ Psalm 18:8-9, Vg.; 19:7-8, EV]. Likewise: "Thy word isa lamp to my feet and a light to my path" [Psalm 119:105], and innumerable other sayings in the same psalm [e.g.,Psalm 119:5]. These do not contradict Paul's statements, which show not what use the law serves for the regenerate, but what it can of itself confer upon man.

But here the prophet proclaims the great usefulness of the law: the Lord instructs by their reading of it those whom he inwardly instills with a readiness to obey. He lays hold not only of the precepts, but the accompanying promise of grace, which alone sweetens what is bitter. For what would be less lovable than the law if, with importuning and threatening alone, it troubled souls through fear, and distressed them through fright? David especially shows that in the law he apprehended the Mediator, without whom there is no delight or sweetness. unable, from the daily instruction of the law, to make fresh progress toward a purer knowledge of the divine will.

Again, because we need not only teaching but also exhortation, the servant of God will also avail himself of this benefit of the law: by frequent meditation upon it to be aroused to obedience, be strengthened in it, and be drawn back from the slippery path of transgression. In this way the saintsmust press on; for, however eagerly they may in accordance with the Spirit strive toward God's righteousness, the listless flesh always so burdens them that they do not proceed with due readiness. The law is to the flesh like a whip to an idle and balky ass, to arouse it to work. Even for a spiritual man not yet free of the weight of the flesh the law remains a constant sting that will not let him stand still. Doubtless David was referring to this use when he sang the praises of the law: "The law of the Lord is spotless, converting souls;... the righteous acts of the Lord are right, rejoicing hearts; the precept of the Lord is clear, enlightening the eyes," etc. [ Psalm 18:8-9, Vg.; 19:7-8, EV]. Likewise: "Thy word isa lamp to my feet and a light to my path" [Psalm 119:105], and innumerable other sayings in the same psalm [e.g.,Psalm 119:5]. These do not contradict Paul's statements, which show not what use the law serves for the regenerate, but what it can of itself confer upon man.

But here the prophet proclaims the great usefulness of the law: the Lord instructs by their reading of it those whom he inwardly instills with a readiness to obey. He lays hold not only of the precepts, but the accompanying promise of grace, which alone sweetens what is bitter. For what would be less lovable than the law if, with importuning and threatening alone, it troubled souls through fear, and distressed them through fright? David especially shows that in the law he apprehended the Mediator, without whom there is no delight or sweetness.

WHOEVER WANTS TO DO AWAY WITH THE LAW ENTIRELY FOR THE FAITHFUL, UNDERSTANDS IT FALSELY

Certain ignorant persons, not understanding this distinction, rashly cast out the whole of Moses, and bid farewell to the two Tables of the Law. For they think it obviously alien to Christians to hold to a doctrine that contains the "dispensation of death" [cf. 2 Corinthians 3:7]. Banish this wicked thought from our minds! For Moses has admirably taught that the law, which among sinners can engender nothing but death, ought among the saints to have a better and more excellent use. When about to die, hedecreed to the people as follows: "Lay to your hearts all the words which this day I enjoin upon you, that you may command them to your children, and teach them to keep, do, and fulfill all those things written in the book of this law. For they have not been commanded to you in vain, but for each to live in them" [ Deuteronomy 32:46-47, cf. Vg.]. But if no one can deny that a perfect pattern of righteousness stands forth in the law, either we need no rule to live rightly and justly, or it is forbidden to depart from the law. There are not many rules, but one everlasting and unchangeable rule to live by. For this reason we are not to refer solely to one age David's statement that the life of a righteous man is a continual meditation upon the law [ Psalm 1:2], for it is just as applicable to every age, even to the end of the world.

We ought not to be frightened away from the law or to shun its instruction merely because it requires a much stricter moral purity than we shall reach while we bear about with us the prison house of our body. For the law is not now acting toward us as a rigorous enforcement officer who is not satisfied unless the requirements are met. But in this perfection to which it exhorts us, the law points out the goal toward which throughout life we are to strive. In this the law is no less profitable than consistent with our duty. If we fail not in this struggle, it is well. Indeed, this whole life is a race [cf. 1 Corinthians 9:24-26]; when its course has been run, the Lord will grant us to attain that goal to which our efforts now press forward from afar.

TO WHAT EXTENT HAS THE LAW BEEN ABROGATED FOR BELIEVERS?

Now, the law has power to exhort believers. This is not a power to bind their consciences with a curse, but one to shake off their sluggishness, by repeatedly urging them, and to pinch them awake to their imperfection. Therefore, many persons, wishing to express such liberation from that curse, say that for believers the law — I am still speaking of the moral law — has been abrogated.f241 Not that the law no longer enjoins believers to do what is right, but only that it is not for them what it formerly was: it may no longer condemn and destroy their consciences by frightening and confounding them. Paul teaches clearly enough such an abrogation of the law [cf. Romans 7:6]. That the Lord also preached it appears from this: he would not have refuted the notion that he would abolish the law [ Matthew 5:17] if this opinion had not been prevalent among the Jews. But since without some pretext the idea could not have arisen by chance, it may be supposed to have arisen from a false interpretation of his teaching, just as almost all errors have commonly taken their occasion from truth. But to avoid stumbling on the same stone, let us accurately distinguish what in the law has been abrogated from what still remains in force. When the Lord testifies that he "came not to abolish the law but to fulfill it" and that "until heaven and earth pass away... not a jot will pass away from the law until all is accomplished" [ Matthew 5:17-18], he sufficiently confirms that by his coming nothing is going to be taken away from the observance of the law. And justly — inasmuch as he came rather to remedy transgressions of it. Therefore through Christ the teaching of the law remains inviolable; by teaching, admonishing, reproving, and correcting, it forms us and prepares us for every good work [cf. 2 Timothy 3:16-17]

THE LAW IS ABROGATED TO THE EXTENT THAT IT NO LONGER CONDEMNS US

What Paul says of the curse unquestionably applies not to the ordinance itself but solely to its force to bind the conscience. The law not only teaches but forthrightly enforces what it commands. If it be not obeyed — indeed, if one in any respect fail in his duty — the law unleashes the thunderbolt of its curse. For this reason the apostle says: "All who are of the works of the law are under a curse; for it is written, 'Cursed be every one who does not fulfill all things'"[ Galatians 3:10; Deuteronomy 27:26 p.]. He describes as "under the works of the law" those who do not ground their righteousness in remission of sins, through which we are released from the rigor of the law. He therefore teaches that we must be released from the bonds of the law, unless we wish to perish miserably under them.

But from what bonds? The bonds of harsh and dangerous requirements, which remit nothing of the extreme penalty of the law, and suffer no transgression to go unpunished. To redeem us from this curse, I say, Christ was made a curse for us. "For it is written: 'Cursed be every one who hangs on a tree.'" [ Galatians 3:13; Deuteronomy 21:23.] In the following chapter Paul teaches that Christ was made subject to the law [ Galatians 4:4] "that he might redeem those under the law" [ Galatians 4:5a, Vg.]. This means the same thing, for he continues: "So that we might receive by adoption the right of sons" [ Galatians 4:5b]. What does this mean? That we should not be borne down by an unending bondage, which would agonize our consciences with the fear of death. Meanwhile this always remains an unassailable fact: no part of the authority of the law is withdrawn without our having always to receive it with the same veneration and obedience.

THE CEREMONIAL LAW

The ceremonies are a different matter: they have been abrogated not in effect but only in use. Christ by his coming has terminated them, but has not deprived them of anything of their sanctity; rather, he has approved and honored it. Just as the ceremonies would have provided the people of the Old Covenant with an empty show if the power of Christ's death and resurrection had not been displayed therein; so, if they had not ceased, we would be unable today to discern for what purpose they were established.

Consequently Paul, to prove their observance not only superfluous but also harmful, teaches that they are shadows whose substance exists for us in Christ [ Colossians 2:17]. Thus we see that in their abolition the truth shines forth better than if they, still far off and as if veiled, figured the Christ, who has already plainly revealed himself. At Christ's death "the curtain of the temple was torn in two" [ Matthew 27:51] because now the living and express image of heavenly blessings was manifested, which before had been begun in indistinct outline only, as the author of The Letter to the Hebrews states [ Hebrews 10:1]. To this applies Christ's utterance: "The law and the prophets were until John since then the good news of the Kingdom of God is preached" [ Luke 16:16]. Not that the holy patriarchs were without thepreaching that contains the hope of salvation and of eternal life, but that they only glimpsed from afar and in shadowy outline what we see today in full daylight. John the Baptist explains why the church of God had to pass quite beyond these rudiments: "The law was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ" [ John 1:17]. For even though atonement for sins had been truly promised in the ancient sacrifices, and the Ark of the Covenant was a sure pledge of God's fatherly favor, all this would have been but shadowf242 had it not been grounded in the grace of Christ, in whom one finds perfect and everlasting stability. Let it be regarded as a fact that, although the rites of the law have ceased to be observed, by their termination one may better recognize how useful they were before the coming of Christ, who in abrogating their use has by his death sealed their force and effect.

THE WRITTEN BOND "AGAINST US" IS BLOTTED OUT

Of slightly greater difficulty is the point noted by Paul: "And you, when you were dead through sins and the uncircumcision of your flesh, God made alive together with him, having forgiven you all your sins, havingcanceled the written bond which was against us in the decrees, which was contrary to us. And he bore it from our midst, fixing it to the cross," etc. [ Colossians 2:13-14, cf. Vg.]. This statement seems to extend the abolition of the law to the point that we now have nothing to do with its decrees. They are mistaken who understand it simply of the moral law, whose inexorable severity rather than its teaching they interpret as abolished.f243 Others, more carefully weighing Paul's words, perceive that these apply properly speaking to the ceremonial law; and they point outthat the word "decree" is used in Paul more than once. For he also addresses the Ephesians thus: "He is our peace, who has made us both one... abolishing... the law of commandments resting upon decrees, that he might create in himself one new man in place of the two" [ Ephesians 2:14-15, cf. Vg.].f244 There is no doubt that this statement concerns the ceremonies, for he speaks of them as a wall that divides the Jews from the Gentiles [ Ephesians 2:14]. Hence, I admit that the second group of expositors rightly criticizes the first. But the second group also still does not seem to explain the meaning of the apostle very well. For I am not at all happy about comparing the two passages in every detail. When Paul would assure the Ephesians of their adoption into the fellowship of Israel, he teaches that the hindrance which once held them back has now been removed. That was in the ceremonies. For the ritual cleansings and sacrifices, whereby the Jews were consecrated to the Lord, separated them from the Gentiles. Now who cannot see that a loftier mystery is referred to in the letter to the Colossians? The question there concerns the Mosaic observances, to which the false apostles were trying to drive the Christian people. But as in the letter to the Galatians he carries that discussion deeper — reverting, so to speak, to its starting point — so he does in this passage. For if you consider nothing else in the rites than the necessity of performing them, what is the point in calling them "the written bond against us" [ Colossians 2:14]? Moreover, why lodge nearly the whole of our redemption in the fact that they are "blotted out"? Therefore, the thing itself cries out that we should consider it as something more inward.

But I am sure that I have come upon the true understanding of it — provided the truth be granted of what Augustine somewhere most truly writes, or rather takes from the apostle's clear words: in the Jewish ceremonies there was confession of sins rather than atonement for them [cf. Hebrews 10:1 ff.; also Leviticus 16:21]. What else did the Jews accomplish with their sacrifices than to confess themselves guilty of death, since they substituted purification in place of themselves? What else did they accomplish with their cleansings but confess themselves unclean? They thus repeatedly renewed the "written bond" of their sin and impurity. But in giving such proof there was no release from it. The apostle, for this reason, writes: "Since Christ's death has occurred, redemption from the transgressions which remained under the old covenant has been accomplished" [ Hebrews 9:15 p.]. The apostle rightly, therefore, calls the ceremonies "written bonds against" [ Colossians 2:14] those observing them, since through such rites they openly certify their own condemnation and uncleanness [cf. Hebrews 10:3].There is no contradiction in the fact that they also were partakers in the same grace with us. For they attained that in Christ; not in the ceremonies that the apostle in that passage distinguishes from Christ, inasmuch as these, then in use, obscured Christ's glory. We hold that ceremonies, considered in themselves, are very appropriately called "written bonds against" the salvation of men. For they were, so to speak, binding legal documents, which attested men's obligation. When the false apostles wanted to bind the Christian church again to observe them, Paul with good reason, more profoundly restating their ultimate purpose, warned the Colossians into what danger they would slip back if they allowed themselves to be subjugated to the ceremonial law in this way [ Colossians 2:16 ff.]. For at the same time they were deprived of the benefit of Christ, since, when once he had carried out the eternal atonement, he abolished those daily observances, which were able only to attest sins but could do nothing to blot them out.

-----------

From The Institutes of Christian Religion by John Calvin

Calvin on Law and Gospel

by Michael S. Horton 

September 1, 2009 

Some of the most glaring distortions of Calvin’s ministry and doctrine are related to his understanding of the law.  First, there is the question of the law and society: Was Calvin an ayatollah, dedicated to making Geneva a revived theocracy?  Second, did Calvin embrace or depart from Luther with respect to the relation of law and gospel?  Third, what, according to Calvin, is the main purpose of the law today in the lives of Christians?  I can’t hope to do justice to those questions here, but will limit myself to this task: namely, to offer a brief summary of Calvin’s answers on the basis of both the Institutes and his commentaries.

CALVIN AND THEOCRACY: THE NATURE OF THE LAW

Calvin never set out to be interesting, creative, or ground-breaking.  He managed to be all three in spite of his intentions, but he possessed a conservative temperament, satisfied to assume traditional views that he had no exegetical reason to challenge.  A good example of this is his adoption of Thomas Aquinas’ three-fold division of the law into civil, ceremonial, and moral laws.

Like Aquinas, Calvin says that the moral law summarized in the Decalogue transcends the Mosaic theocracy and in fact is “nothing else than a testimony of natural law and of that conscience which God has engraved upon the minds of men”[1]  However, to this moral law God attached what Calvin calls “supplements” unique to his covenant with Israel: “by which word I mean, with respect to the First Table, the Ceremonies and the outward Exercises of Worship; with respect to the Second Table, the Political Laws…”[2]  

According to Calvin, the second table of the moral law inscribed on the conscience in creation can be reduced to equity, which he understood as justice tempered with love.  His sharpest rebukes toward appeals to the Old Testament civil law for modern states were directed toward the radical Anabaptists: “I would have preferred to pass over this matter in utter silence if I were not aware that here many dangerously go astray,” he writes.  “For there are some who deny that a commonwealth is duly framed which neglects the political system of Moses, and is ruled by the common laws of nations. Let other men consider how perilous and seditious this notion is; it will be enough for me to have proved it false and foolish” (Institutes, 4.20.14).  As natural, equity is necessarily “the same for all.”  “Hence, this equity alone must be the goal and rule and limit of all laws. Whatever laws shall be framed to that rule, directed to that goal, bound by that limit, there is no reason why we should disapprove of them, howsoever they may differ from the Jewish law, or among themselves” (Institutes, 4.20.16). 

It would be “malicious and hateful toward public welfare” to be “offended by such diversity” in the application of natural equity to the wide variations in the “condition of times, place, and nation.”  “For the statement of some, that the law of God given through Moses is dishonored when it is abrogated and new laws preferred to it, is utterly vain.”  The political laws of Moses cannot be abrogated by us, since they were never given to us in the first place.  “For the Lord through the hand of Moses did not give that law to be proclaimed among all nations and to be in force everywhere; but when he had taken the Jewish nation into his safekeeping, defense, and protection, he also willed to be a lawgiver especially to it; and—as becomes a wise lawgiver—he had a special concern for it in making its laws” (Institutes, 4.20.16).

However, Calvin goes further than medieval theologians like Aquinas at least in practice with regard to the abrogation of the political laws of the old covenant.  For example, even though the medieval church forbade the practice of usury (lending money at interest) as a mortal sin, and even Luther grounded his opposition of the practice in Exodus 22:25, Calvin rejected this argument: “It is abundantly clear that the ancient people were prohibited from usury, but we must needs confess that this was a part of their political constitution.  Hence it follows that usury is not now unlawful, except in so far as it contravenes equity and brotherly union.”[3]  Once again, Calvin thinks that the principle of general equity offers an adequate way of navigating this issue.  “Heathen authors also saw this,” he wrote, “although not with sufficient clearness, when they declared that, since all men are born for the sake of each other, human society is not properly maintained except by an interchange of good offices.”[4]  The exercise of equity—justice tempered by love—as the summary of God’s moral law inscribed on the conscience—remains in effect even if it is applied with considerable variety in view of the particular constitutions, histories, and vices of nations.[5]  Therefore, Calvin was even more reticent than Aquinas or Luther in applying the theocratic laws of Israel to modern states.  The remainder of this article focuses on the moral law. 

THE THREE USES OF THE MORAL LAW

As important for determining Calvin’s conception of the nature of the law is his understanding of the relation between law and gospel.  Not even in this case did Calvin set out to create a new theory.  However, at this point he followed Luther’s critical departure from medieval interpretation.  For Aquinas, the gospel (synonymous with the New Testament) is “the new law,” superior to the old law because it brings the realities to which the typological shadows merely pointed and also because it is more gracious.  And it corresponds to Old and New Testaments, respectively.Just as there are three divisions of the Old Testament law (civil, ceremonial, and moral), the reformers agreed that there were three uses of God’s moral law: 

  1. the elenctic or pedagogical use (driving sinners to despair of their righteousness); 
  2. the civil use (curbing evil and injustice in society); 
  3. the didactic or normative use in guiding believers in a life of grateful obedience.[6]

THE PEDAGOGICAL USE OF THE MORAL LAW

Like Luther, Calvin challenged the identification of the Good News as “a new law” and Christ as a new Moses.  However, he introduced (with Melanchthon’s help) some critical nuances.  While Luther disagreed sharply with Aquinas’ characterization of the gospel as a “new law,” he often perpetuates the tendency to treat law and gospel as equivalent to Old and New Testaments. The Anabaptists pushed this further toward a Marcionite antithesis.  In Calvin’s treatment, there is much greater nuance. 

First, Calvin can speak of an absolute contrast of law and gospel in terms of the way in which we are justified.  In this respect, Calvin was simply a Lutheran, as were Reformed theologians generally until quite recently.  Luther emphasized that the law commands and threatens punishment without mercy; the gospel gives and freely absolves sinners through faith alone.  The law, whether adumbrated in the Old or the New Testament, comes to kill the sinner, not to heal and reform.  Legis semper accusat: “The law always accuses,” Luther insisted. 

Similarly, Calvin explains that when treating the matter of justification, Paul “appropriately represents the righteousness of the Law and the Gospel as opposed to each other.”  “But,” Calvin quickly adds, “the Gospel has not succeeded the whole Law in such a sense as to introduce a different method of salvation. It rather confirms the Law, and proves that every thing which it promised is fulfilled. What was shadow, it has made substance.”[7]

It is clear that Calvin is affirming the law-gospel antithesis with respect to justification (contra Rome) while also preserving the unity of the covenant of grace with respect to the Old and New Testaments (contra Anabaptists).  With regard to the latter, Calvin can assert, “The law included the whole body of Scripture, up to the advent of Christ.”[8]  In this sense, the law includes the gospel.[9]  Especially in developing his apologetic for the unity of the covenant of grace against the Anabaptists, Calvin can also speak of a fundamental continuity, even in a Thomistic sense of lesser light and greater light, shadow and reality, severity to greater leniency, and so forth.  Calvin himself acknowledges these two senses.  Commenting on Romans 5:10, he wrote, “The word law is used in a two-fold sense.  At times it means the whole doctrine taught by Moses, and, at times, that part of it which belonged peculiarly to his ministry, and is contained in its precepts, rewards, and punishments.”   “Thus from the Law they receive nothing but this condemnation for there God demands what is due to him, and yet gives no power to perform it,” he adds in his comment on 2 Corinthians 3:7.  “But by the Gospel men are regenerated and reconciled to God by the free remission of their sins, so that it is the ministration of righteousness and so of life.  But by the Gospel men are regenerated and reconciled to God by the free remission of their sins, so that it is the ministration of righteousness and so of life.”

Only if we do not recognize the nuance in Calvin’s use of “law and gospel” can we conclude that he is inconsistent.  Basically, it is the same two senses that we find in Romans 3:21: ““But now a righteousness from God has been manifested apart from the law, to which the law and the prophets testify.”  The gospel, which is opposed to the law (as a principle of justification), is taught in the law and the prophets (as Old Testament scripture). 

For clarity, let us call these the doctrinal and the redemptive-historical senses of law and gospel.  In the first sense, law and gospel are absolutely opposed (contra Rome); in the second sense, they are united by the covenant of grace (contra Anabaptists).  So Calvin is not indecisive on this point.  With respect to the doctrinal sense, Calvin is as emphatic as Luther on the antithesis of law and gospel.  In his preface to the commentary on the Pentateuch he says that the whole purpose of the old covenant law is “to shut us up deprived of all confidence in our own righteousness, so that we may learn to embrace his Covenant of Grace, and flee to Christ, who is the end of the law.”[10]   As I. John Hesselink describes Calvin’s view, “Faith is not produced by every part of the Word of God, for the warnings, admonitions and threatened judgments will not instill the confidence and peace requisite for true faith.”[11]

When discussing the “fatherly indulgence of God,” Calvin explains Paul's reference to “the spirit of bondage” versus “the spirit of adoption,” in Romans 8:15.  “One he calls the spirit of bondage, which we are able to derive from the Law; and the other, the spirit of adoption, which proceeds from the Gospel” (on Romans 8:15). The contrast is absolute: the one instills fear, the other assurance.  Echoing Romans 3:21 explicitly, Calvin says, “Although the covenant of grace is contained in the Law, yet Paul removes it from there, for in opposing the Gospel to the Law he regards only what was peculiar to the Law itself, viz. command and prohibition, and the restraining of transgressors by the threat of death.  He assigns to the Law its own quality, by which it differs from the Gospel.”  In this doctrinal sense, there is no graciousness in the law.  As a covenantal principle, the law offers no hope, “for it promises no blessing except on condition, and pronounces death on all transgressors.”  He adds, “Note that Paul connects fear with bondage, since the Law can do nothing but harass and torment our souls with wretched discontent as long as it exercises its dominion.  There is, therefore, no other remedy for pacifying our souls than when God forgives us our sins, and deals kindly with us as a father with his children.”

This law-gospel antithesis is repeated throughout his writings, but, as one might expect, is especially pronounced in his Galatians commentary, where he says especially of the third chapter that it is “an argument from contradictions, for the same fountain cannot yield both hot and cold.”

“The Law holds all men under its curse.  From the Law, therefore, it is useless to seek a blessing.”  In this sense, law and gospel are “irreconcilable” (on Galatians 3:10).  “The contrast between Law and Gospel is to be understood, and from this distinction we deduce that, just as the Law demands work, the Gospel requires only that men should bring faith in order to receive the grace of God” (on Romans 10:8).  For one thing, he declares in his commentary on John, “The peculiar office of the Law [is] to summon consciences to the judgment-seat of God” (Commentary on John, Vol. 2, 140). We have already noted the many references to Calvin's explanation of the purpose of the law that make the pedagogical use central.  In fact, “Moses had no other intention than to invite all men to go straight to Christ” (Commentary on John, Vol. 1, 217).  The whole purpose of the law was to drive people to Christ.  This is especially apparent in a sermon on Isaiah 53:11, where he basically echoes Luther’s maxim, “The law always accuses”:

The Law only begets death; it increases our condemnation and inflames the wrath of God....The Law of God speaks, but it does not reform our hearts.  God may show us: ‘This is what I demand of you,’ but if all our desires, our dispositions and thoughts are contrary to what he commands, not only are we condemned, but, as I have said, the Law makes us more culpable before God....For in the Gospel God does not say, ‘You must do this or that,’ but ‘believe that my only Son is your Redeemer; embrace his death and passion as the remedy for your ills; plunge yourself beneath his blood and it will be your cleansing.’

Furthermore, whenever Calvin describes the purpose of the law in one given passage, it is almost always the pedagogical use that he describes:  “The Law is like a mirror, in which we behold, first, our impotence; secondly, our iniquity which proceeds from it; and lastly, the consequence of both, our obnoxiousness to the curse, just as a mirror represents to us the spots on our face.”[12]  “Paul, by the word law, frequently intends the rule of a righteous life, in which God requires of us what we owe to him, affording us no hope of life, unless we fulfill every part of it, and, on the contrary, annexing a curse if we are guilty of the smallest transgression.”[13]  “The life of the Law is man's death.”[14] This raises the question of the proper function of the law.

THE THIRD (DIDACTIC) USE OF THE MORAL LAW

So far I have underscored what the reformers referred to as the elenctic use of the law: driving sinners to despair of their righteousness so that they will flee to Christ.  Especially when provoked by the antinomian controversy, Luther affirmed the law’s normative (or didactic) use.  It was Melanchthon who first formulated the “third use of the law”: that is, its didactic use in guiding believers in God’s moral will.  In fact, Article 6 of the Formula of Concord explicitly affirms the third use.  If Calvin and his heirs more fully elaborated this use, it is just as true that they not only agreed with but in fact appropriated the Lutheran formulation.

For all of his emphasis on the terrors of the law, Calvin warns against concluding that this is the only service it renders.nders.[15]  Nevertheless, Calvin insists (expounding Romans 3:21) that even believers after they are justified must be vigilant in distinguishing the law and gospel; otherwise, they will, with Augustine, conclude that the righteousness that they have before God, though a gift of regenerating grace alone, is inherent in the believer.  “But it is evident from the context that the apostle includes all works without exception, even those which the Lord produces in his own people.”  “That peace of conscience, which is disturbed on the score of works, is not a one-day phenomenon, but ought to continue through our whole life.”[16]  Since we are ever-assaulted by the fear inculcated by the law, we must be ever-assured of the promises of the gospel. 

The law no longer represents God as Judge, but God as Father to the justified.  “Here Calvin does not differ significantly from Luther, except in emphasis and discretion,” notes Hesselink.[17]  In the Institutes, Calvin observes that one “may indeed view from afar the proffered promises, yet he cannot derive any benefit from them.”

Therefore this thing alone remains: that from the goodness of the promises he should the better judge his own misery, while with the hope of salvation cut off he thinks himself threatened with certain death.  On the other hand, horrible threats hang over us, constraining and entangling not a few of us only, but all of us to a man.  They hang over us, I say, and pursue us with inexorable harshness, so that we discern in the Law only the most immediate death (2.7.4).

The law covenants conditionally, while the Gospel covenants on the basis of Christ's fulfillment of all conditions in the believer's stead.  “The promises of the Law depend on the conditions of works while the Gospel promises are free and dependent solely on God's mercy” (Institutes, 3.11.17).

Contrary to what is often supposed, then, Calvin did not embrace the law-gospel hermeneutic for conversion, only to place believers back under the law as a method for obtaining righteousness in sanctification. 

If this is so, then how do we reconcile Calvin’s repeated insistence that the main purpose of the law is to drive us to Christ by its threats (the first use) and his statement that the third use is “the principal use” (Institutes, 2.7.12)?  Interpreters often fail to recognize that for Calvin the difference lies in the believer’s relation to God and therefore to his law.  The law’s imperative drives the sinner to the indicative of the gospel announcement.  But once the believer is justified, this order must be reversed to avoid works-righteousness and, in fact, is reversed in the scriptures.  What is abolished in the law for Calvin is not its precepts, but its condemnation (maledictio legis).  “Being thus led to despair of attaining any righteousness of their own, they were to flee to the haven of divine goodness—to Christ himself.  This was the purpose of the ministry of Moses” (on Romans 10:5). 

Even when believers are reminded by the terrors of the law to flee to Christ, they are simultaneously reminded that they are beyond the reach of its condemnation.  Now, instead of speaking of three uses that can be applied to everyone, he introduces a two-fold office of the law: one for believers and another for unbelievers. He makes this point explicitly in his 1536 catechism: “For among unbelievers it does nothing more than shut them out from all excuse before God.  And this is what Paul means when he calls it the ministry of death and condemnation.”  Nevertheless, “In regard to believers it has a very different use.”  The law cannot condemn believers, but it still reminds them that “it requires of them much more than they are able to perform.”  It “urges them to seek strength from the Lord, and at the same time reminds them of their perpetual guilt, that they may not presume to be proud.”  This third use also exhibits the boundaries of Christian liberty, keeping in check our natural tendency toward both legalism and antinomianism.  Thus, even in its third use, the goal is to lead us to Christ as much as to guide us under his reign, but it does not drive us to Christ with threats and punishments as it does unbelievers. For all who trust in themselves, the threatening office of the law is not only its principal but its exclusive use.  When the question of our justification is in view, “If consciences with to attain any certainty in this matter, they ought to give no place to the law” (Institutes, 3.19.2). Thus, Calvin’s emphasis on the third use actually emphasized more than Luther the end of the law’s condemning power over the believer’s conscience.  “For the law is not now acting toward us as a rigorous enforcement officer who is not satisfied unless the requirements are met,” but is rather pointing out “the goal toward which throughout life we are to strive.”  Before, the law only accused, but now it has a different purpose: “Now, the law has power to exhort believers.  This is not a power to bind their consciences with a curse,” but to point the way toward divinely-approved service (Institutes, 2.7.12-13).  I would suggest that Calvin reckoned even more fully than Luther with the decisive change that justification brings in the believer’s relationship with God.

When seeking righteousness, duty is a legal preoccupation, but once the law’s thunder is silenced, God uses the law to discipline his children and recall them to their former course.  Nevertheless, the law cannot do anything more than prod—and by this, Calvin means nothing more than reminding us of our duty.  Only the evangelical promises can move us to grateful obedience: “He lays hold not only of the precepts, but the accompanying promise of grace, which alone sweetens what is bitter.  For what would be less lovable than the Law if, with importuning and threatening alone, it troubles souls through fear, and distressed them through fright?  David especially shows that in the Law he apprehended the Mediator, without whom there is no delight or sweetness” (Institutes, 2.7.12).

Footnotes

  1. John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, ed. John T. McNeill; trans. Ford Lewis Battles; Library of Christian Classic, XX-XXI (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1960), 4.20.16[back to text]
  2. John Calvin, Preface, Commentaries on the Four Last Books of Moses, Vol. 1, trans. Charles W. Binham (rep., Grand Rapids: Baker, 1996), p. xvii.[back to text]
  3. John Calvin, Preface, Commentaries on the Four Last Books of Moses, 132[back to text]
  4. Ibid., 126[back to text]
  5. Ibid., 128[back to text]
  6. On these three uses, see Calvin, Institutes 2.7.6-12.[back to text]
  7. John Calvin, Institutes 2.9.4[back to text]
  8. Calvin, in the Pringle translation of the Commentary on Corinthians, Vol. 1 (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1984), 452.  All references to the New Testament are from this set and are cited in the text of my article.[back to text]
  9. Calvin, "The Preface to the Prophet Isaiah," in the Pringle translation of the Old Testament Commentaries (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1984), Volume 1 of Isaiah, p. xxvi.  [back to text]
  10. John Calvin, Preface, Commentaries on the Four Last Books of Moses, Vol. 1, xviiiz[back to text]
  11. I. John Hesselink, Calvin's Concept of the Law (Allison Park, PA: Pickwick, 1992), 28[back to text]
  12. The Isaiah 53:11 reference is cited by Hesselink, 212 n.188; cf. Institutes, 2.7.7.[back to text]
  13. Calvin, Institutes 2.9.4[back to text]
  14. John Calvin, Four Last Books of Moses, Vol.1, 316[back to text]
  15. John Calvin on Galatians 3:19[back to text]
  16. John Calvin on Romans 3:21[back to text]
  17. I. John Hesselink, 158[back to text]

---------

First published in Evangelium, Vol. 7, Issue 1