Chapter 3 – The Great Change (part 5)
Section Four
“Search the Scriptures” (John 5:39), “comparing spiritual things with spiritual” (1 Corinthians 2:13). That is what we sought to heed in the preceding articles. Therein twenty-five different passages were collated—all of which we are persuaded treat of some aspect or other of “the miracle of grace” or the great change—and in varying measure, engaged our attention. It will be observed that in some of them, it is the illumination of the understanding which is in view (Acts 26:18); in others, the searching and convicting of the conscience (Romans 7:9); and in others, the renovation of the heart (Ezekiel 36:26). In some, it is the subduing of the will (Psalm 110:3) which is emphasized; in others, casting down reasonings and bringing our thoughts into subjection (2 Corinthians 10:5); and in others, the writing of God’s laws in our minds and hearts. In some, the miracle of grace appears to be a completed thing (1 Corinthians 6:11); in others, the great change is seen as a gradual process (2 Corinthians 3:18; Philippians 1:6). In one, something is removed from its subject (Deuteronomy 30:6); while in another, something is communicated (Romans 5:5). In different passages, the figures of creation (Ephesians 2:10), of renewing (Titus 3:5), and of resurrection (1 John 3:14) are employed.
If it be asked, Why has it pleased the Holy Spirit to describe His work so diversely and use such a variety of terms and figures? several answers may be suggested. First, because the work itself, though one, is so many-sided. Its subject is a complex creature, and the process of salvation radically affects every part of his composite being. Just as sin has marred each part of our constitution and has corrupted every faculty the Creator gave us, so grace renews and transforms every part of our constitution and purifies every faculty we possess. When the apostle prayed, “And the very God of peace sanctify you wholly; and I pray God your whole spirit and soul and body be preserved blameless unto the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ” (1 Thessalonians 5:23), he was asking that God would graciously preserve and perfect that which He had already wrought in His people, and the terms he there used intimated the comprehensiveness and entirety of the grand miracle of grace. This is a gem possessing many facets, and our estimate of it is certain to be most faulty if we confine our view to only one of them.
Second, because God would thereby warn us from supposing that He acts according to a stereotyped plan or method in His saving of sinners. Variety rather than uniformity marks all the ways and workings of God, in creation, providence, and grace. No two seasons are alike—no field or tree yields the same crop in any two years. Every book in the Bible is equally the inspired Word of God, yet how different in character and content is Leviticus from the Psalms, Ruth from Ezekiel, Romans from the Revelation!
How varied the manner in which the Lord Jesus gave sight to different ones who were blind: different in the means used and the effect produced—one, at first, only seeing men as though they were trees walking (Mark 8:24)! How differently He dealt with religious Nicodemus in John 3 and the adulterous woman of John 4, pressing on the one his imperative need of being born again; convicting the other of her sins and telling her of “the gift of God” (John 4:10)! The great God is not confined to any rule, and we must not restrict His operations in our thoughts: if we do, we are certain to err.
Third, because God would thereby teach us that, though the work of grace be essentially and substantially the same in all its favored subjects, yet in no two of them does it appear identical in all its circumstantials—neither in its operations, nor manifestations. Not only does endless variety mark all the ways and workings of God, but it does so equally in His workmanship.
This is generally recognized and acknowledged in connection with the material world, where no two blades of grass or two grains of sand are alike. But in the spiritual realm, it is very far from being perceived and owned: rather is it commonly supposed that all truly regenerate persons conform strictly unto one particular pattern, and those who differ from it are at once suspected of being counterfeits. This should not be. The twelve foundations of the new and holy Jerusalem—in which are the names of the twelve apostles of the Lamb—are all composed of “precious” stones, but how diverse is each! The first jasper, the second sapphire, the third a chalcedony, the fourth emerald, etc. (Revelation 21)—different in color, size, and brilliancy. Each Christian has his own measure of faith and grace “according to the measure of the gift of Christ” (Ephesians 4:7).
Fourth, because God would thereby make it easier for His children to recognize themselves in the mirror of the Word. Possessed of honest hearts and fearful of being deceived, some find it no simple matter to be thoroughly convinced that they have truly experienced the great change. So far from sneering at their trepidation, we admire their caution: where the eternal interests of the soul are concerned, only a fool will give himself the benefit of the doubt. But if a miracle of grace has been wrought in the reader, there is no good reason why he should long be in uncertainty about it. As in water, face answers to face, so the character of the renewed soul corresponds to the description of such furnished by the Word of Truth. That description, as we have seen, is given with considerable variety—sometimes one feature or aspect being made prominent, sometimes another. It is like a photographer taking a number of different pictures of the same person: one with his countenance in repose, another with him smiling; one a full-face view, another of his profile. One may appear to do him “more justice” than another, or be more easily “recognized,” yet all are likenesses of himself.
Let then the exercised reader impartially scrutinize himself in the mirror of the Word, and see if he can discern in himself some of the marks of the regenerate, as those marks are there delineated. Observe well, we say “some of” those marks, and not all of them. Though you may not be sure that Ezekiel 36:26 has taken place in you, perhaps you know something of what is recorded in Acts 16:14 and Romans 5:5. Because your first conscious “experience” was not like that of Romans 7:9, perhaps it closely resembled that of Zaccheus who came down from the tree and “received him joyfully” (Luke 19:6). Commenting on the quickness of his conversion, George Whitefield (1714-1770) aptly said to those who queried whether any were genuine Christians who had not undergone some “terrible experience” of conviction or terror of the wrath to come, “You may as well say to your neighbor you have not had a child, for you were not in labor all night. The question is, whether a real child is born, not how long was the preceding pain!”
There is nothing in the sacred record to show that either Lydia or Zaccheus felt anything of the terrors of the Law before their conversion, yet from what is said of them in the sequel, we cannot doubt the reality of their conversion. Though you may not be sure whether God has put His laws into your mind and written them on your heart, yet you should have no difficulty in perceiving whether or no you “love the brethren” as such; and if you do, then you may be fully assured on the Word of Him that cannot lie, you have “passed from death unto life” (1 John 3:14). The fact that you are afraid to aver that God has renewed you after His image and created you “in righteousness and true holiness” (Ephesians 4:24) does not of itself warrant you inferring you are still in a state of nature. Test yourself by other passages, and see if you can discern in your soul some of their marks of regeneration—such as a grieving over sin, a hungering after righteousness, a panting for communion with God, a praying for fuller conformity unto Christ.
Has the world lost its charm, are you out of love with yourself, is the Lamb of God a desirable Object in your eyes? If so, you possess at least some of the distinctive marks of the regenerate.
Since we are seeking to write these articles for the benefit of young preachers, as well as the rank and file of God’s people, let us point out that the nature of this great change may also be determined by contemplating it as the begun reversal of the Fall: “begun reversal,” for what is commenced at regeneration is continued throughout our sanctification and completed only at our glorification. While it be true that those who are renewed by the Holy Spirit gain more than Adam lost by the Fall, yet we have clear Scripture warrant for affirming that the workmanship of the new creation is God’s answer to man’s ruination of his original creation. Great care needs to be taken in cleaving closely to the Scriptures in developing this point, particularly in ascertaining exactly what was the moral and spiritual condition of man originally, and precisely what happened to him when he fell. We trust that a patient perusal of what follows will convince the reader of both the importance and value of our discussion of these details at this stage—the more so since the children have sadly departed from the teaching of the fathers thereon.
Even those sections of Christendom which boast the most of their soundness in the faith are defective here. Mr. John Nelson Darby (1800-1882) and his followers hold that Adam was merely created innocent (a negative state), and not in (positive) holiness.
Mr. Joseph Charles Philpot (1802-1869) said: “I do not believe that Adam was a spiritual man, that is, that he possessed those spiritual gifts and graces which are bestowed upon the elect of God, for they are new covenant blessings in which he had no share” (Gospel Standard, 1861, page 155). One error ever involves another. Those who deny that fallen man possesses any responsibility to perform spiritual acts (love God, savingly believe in Christ) must, to be consistent, deny that unfallen man was a spiritual creature. Far different was the teaching of the Reformers and Puritans: “And where Paul treats of the restoration of this image (2 Corinthians 3:18), we may readily infer from his words that man was conformed to God not by an influx of His substance, but by the grace and power of His Spirit.” And again, “As the spiritual life of Adam consisted in a union to his Maker, so an alienation from Him was the death of his soul” (John Calvin, 1509-1564, Institutes).
“Adam had the Spirit as well as we: the Holy Spirit was at the making of him and wrote the image of God upon his heart, for where holiness was, we may be sure the Spirit of God was too . . . the same Spirit was in Adam’s heart to assist his graces and cause them to flow and bring forth, and to move him to live according to those principles of life given him” (Thomas Goodwin, 1600-1680, volume 6, page 54). And again, commenting on Adam’s being made in the image and likeness of God, and pointing out that such an “image” imports a thing “permanent and inherent,” he asked, “what could this be but habitual inclinations and dispositions unto whatever was holy and good, insomuch as all holiness radically dwelt in him” (page 202). So too Stephen Charnock (1628-1680): “The righteousness of the first man evidenced not only a sovereign power, as the Donor of his being, but a holy power, as the pattern of His work . . . The law of love to God, with his whole soul, his whole mind, his whole heart and strength, was originally writ upon his nature. All the parts of his nature were framed in a moral conformity with God, to answer His Law and imitate God in His purity” (volume 2, page 205).
In his Discourse on the Holy Spirit (chapter 4, His “Peculiar works in the first creation”)—when treating of “the image of God” after which Adam was created (namely, “an ability to discern the mind and will of God,” an “unentangled disposition to every duty,” and “a readiness of compliance in his affections”)—John Owen (1616-1683) said: “For in the restoration of these abilities unto our minds in our renovation unto the image of God in the Gospel, it is plainly asserted that the Holy Spirit is the imparter of them, and He does thereby restore His own work. For in the new creation, the Father, in the way of authority, designs it and brings all things unto a head in Christ (Ephesians 1:10), which retrieves His original work. And thus, Adam may be said to have had the Spirit of God in his innocency: he had Him in those peculiar effects of His power and goodness, and he had Him according to the tenor of that covenant whereby it was possible that he should utterly lose Him, as accordingly it came to pass.”
The superiority of the new covenant lies in its gifts being unforfeitable, because secured in and by Christ.
“God has made man upright” (Ecclesiastes 7:29)—the same Hebrew word as in Job 1:8 and Psalm 25:8: “This presupposes a law to which he was conformed in his creation, as when anything is made regular or according to rule, of necessity the rule itself is presupposed. Whence we may gather that this law was no other than the eternal indispensable law of righteousness, observed in all points by the second Adam . . . In a word, this law is the very same which was afterwards summed up in the Ten Commandments . . . called by us the Moral Law, and man’s righteousness consisted in conformity to this law or rule” (Thomas Boston, 1676-1732, Human Nature in its Fourfold State). “When God created man at first, He gave him not an outward law, written in letters or delivered in words, but an inward law put into his heart and con-created with him, and wrought in the frame of his soul . . . spiritual dispositions and inclinations, in his will and affections, carrying him on to pray, love God and fear Him, to seek His glory in a spiritual and holy manner” (Thomas Goodwin). The external command of Genesis 2:17, was designed as the test of his responsibility, and at the same time, it served to make manifest that his “uprightness” was mutable.
When Adam left the Creator’s hand, the law of God was in his heart—for he was endowed with holy instincts and inclinations, which tended unto his doing that which was pleasing unto God, and an antipathy against whatever was displeasing to Him. That “law of God” within him was his original character or constitution of his soul and spirit—as it is the “law” or character of beasts to care for their young, and of birds to build nests for theirs. Should it be asked, Is there any other Scripture which teaches that God placed His law in the heart of unfallen Adam?—we answer, Yes, by clear and necessary implication. Christ declared, “your law is within my heart” (Psalm 40:8), and Romans 5:14 tells us that Adam was “the figure of him that was to come.”
Again, just as we may ascertain what grain a certain field bore from the stubble in it, so we may discover what was in unfallen man by the ruins of what is still discernible in fallen humanity: “The Gentiles, which have not the law, do by nature the things contained in the law” (Romans 2:14)—their consciences informing them that immorality and murder are crimes: there is still a shadow in his descendants of the character originally possessed by Adam.
But Adam did not continue as God created him. He fell, and terrible were the consequences. But it is only by adhering closely to the terms used in the Word that we can rightly apprehend the nature of those consequences; yes, unless we allow Scripture itself to interpret those terms for us, we are certain to err in our understanding of them. Possibly, the reader is ready to exclaim, There is no need to make any mystery out of it: the matter is quite simple—those “consequences” may all be summed up in one word—”death.” Even so, we must carefully inquire what is meant there by “death.” “Spiritual death,” you answer. True, and observe well that presupposes spiritual life; and that, in turn, implies a spiritual person, for surely one endowed with spiritual life must be so designated. However, our inquiry must be pressed back a stage farther, and the question put, Exactly what is connoted by “spiritual death?” It is at this point so many have gone wrong and, departing from the teaching of Holy Writ, have landed in serious error.
It is to be most carefully noted that God did not say to Adam, “In the day that you eat thereof your spirit or your soul shall surely die,” but rather “you shall surely die” (Genesis 2:17). It was not some thing in or some part of Adam which died, but Adam himself! That is very, very far from being a distinction without any difference: it is a real and radical difference, and if we tamper with Scripture and change what it says, we depart from the truth.
Nor is “death” an extinction or annihilation; instead, it is a separation. Physical death is the severance or separation of the soul from the body, and spiritual death is the separation of the soul from God. The prodigal son was “dead,” so long as he remained in “a far country” (Luke 15:24), because he was away from his Father. 1 Timothy 5:6 tells us, “But she that lives in
pleasure is dead while she lives”—that is, she is spiritually dead, dead godwards, while alive and active in sin. For the same reason, “the lake which burns with fire and brimstone” is called “the second death” (Revelation 21:8), because those cast into it are “punished with everlasting destruction from the presence of the Lord” (2 Thessalonians 1:9).
Man was created a tripartite being, composed of “spirit and soul and body” (1 Thessalonians 5:23). That is unmistakably implied in the divine account of his creation: “And God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness” (Genesis 1:26); the Triune God made man a trinity in unity! And when man fell, he continued to be a tripartite being: no part of his being was extinguished; no faculty was lost when he apostatized from God. It cannot be insisted upon too strongly that no essential element of man’s original constitution was forfeited; no component part of his complex make-up was annihilated at the Fall—for multitudes are seeking to hide behind a misconception at this very point. They would gladly believe that man lost some vital part of his nature when Adam ate of the forbidden fruit, and that it is the absence of this part in his descendants which explains (and excuses!) all their failures. They console themselves that they are more to be pitied than blamed: the blame rests on their first parents; and they, forsooth, are to be pitied, because he deprived them of the faculty of working righteousness. Much preaching encourages that very delusion.
The truth is that fallen man today possesses identically the same faculties as those with which Adam was originally created: his accountability lies in his making a good use of those faculties, and his criminality consists in the evil employment of them. Others seek to evade the onus of man by affirming that he received a nature which he did not possess before the Fall, and all the blame for his lawless actions is thrown upon that evil nature: equally erroneous, and equally vain is such a subterfuge. No material addition was made to man’s being at the Fall, any more than some intrinsic part was taken from it. That which man lost at the Fall was his primitive holiness, and that which then entered into his being was sin; and thus, sin has defiled every part of his person—but for that, we are to be blamed and not pitied. Nor has fallen man become so helplessly the victim of sin that his accountability is cancelled; rather does God hold him responsible to resist and reject every inclination unto evil, and will justly punish him because he fails to do so. Every attempt to negative human responsibility and undermine the sinner’s accountability, no matter by whom made, must be steadfastly resisted by us.
It is by persuading men that the spirit died at the Fall—or that some concrete but evil thing was then communicated to the human constitution—that Satan succeeds in deceiving so many of his victims: and it is the bounden duty of the Christian minister to expose his sophistries, drive the ungodly out of their refuge of lies, and press continually upon them the solemn fact that they are without the vestige of an excuse for their own rebellion against God. In the day of his disobedience, Adam himself died—died spiritually—and so did all his posterity in him. But that spiritual death consisted not of the extinction of anything in them, but of their separation from God: no part of Adam’s being was annihilated, but every part of him was vitiated [corrupted; made imperfect]. It was not the essence, but the rectitude [uprightness of character] of man’s soul and spirit which sin destroyed. By the Fall, man relinquished his honor and glory, lost his holiness, forfeited the favor of God, and was severed from all communion with Him; but he still retained his human nature. All desire godwards, all love for his Maker, all real knowledge of Him was gone. Sin now possessed him; and to the love and exercise of it, he devoted himself. Such too is our natural condition.
Section Five
Let none conclude from the last few paragraphs that we do not believe in the “total depravity” of man, or that we do so in such a manner as practically to evacuate that expression of any real meaning. Most probably, the writer believes more firmly in the utter ruin of fallen human nature than do some of his readers, and views the plight of the natural man as being more desperate than they do. We hold that the state of every unregenerate soul is such that he cannot turn his face Godward or originate a single spiritual thought, and that he has not even so much as the wish or will to do so. Nor let it be inferred from our preceding remarks that we deny the evil principle or “the flesh” as being existent and dominant in the natural man: we most emphatically believe—both on the testimony of the Word of truth, and from personal experience of its awful potency and horrible workings—that it is.
But we also hold that great care should be taken when seeking to visualize or define in our minds what “the flesh” consists of. It is a principle of evil and not a concrete or tangible entity. The moment we regard it as something material, we confuse ourselves.
It is because all of us are so accustomed to thinking in the terms of matter that we find it difficult to form a definite concept of something, which, though immaterial, is real. Nor is it by any means a simple task for one to express himself thereon, so that he will be coherent unto others. Man lost no part of his tripartite nature when he fell, nor was a fourth part then communicated to him. Instead, sin—which is not a material entity—entered into him, and vitiated and corrupted his entire being. He was stricken with a loathsome disease which defiled all his faculties and members, so that his entire spirit and soul became precisely like one whose body is thus described: “From the sole of the foot even unto the head there is no soundness in it; but wounds, and bruises, and putrefying sores” (Isaiah 1:6). A potato is still a potato even when frozen, though it is no longer edible. An apple remains an apple when decayed within. And man still retained his human nature when he apostatized from God, died spiritually, and became totally depraved. He remained all that he was previously, minus only his holiness.
When man fell, he died spiritually; and as we have shown, death is not annihilation, but separation. Yet that word “separation” does not express the full meaning of what is signified by “spiritual death.” Scripture employs another term—”alienation;” and that, too, we must take fully into account. “Alienation” includes the thought of severance, but it also imports an opposition. A dear friend may be separated from me physically, but a cruel enemy is bitterly antagonistic to me.
Thus it is with fallen man: he is not only cut off from all communion with the Holy One, but he is innately and inveterately hostile to Him—”alienated” in his affections. We are not here striving about mere “words,” but calling attention to a most solemn truth and fact. It is thus that the Scripture depicts the condition of fallen mankind: “Having the understanding darkened, being alienated from the life of God through the ignorance that is in them, because of the blindness of their heart” (Ephesians 4:18); yes, it solemnly declares that “the carnal mind is enmity against God” (Romans 8:7), and “enmity” is not a negative and passive thing, but a positive and active one.
“Dead in trespasses and sins” (Ephesians 2:1) is the fearful diagnosis made of fallen man by the divine Physician. Yet though that language be true to fact and is no exaggeration, still it is a figure; and unless we interpret it in strict accord with Scripture, we shall falsify its meaning. It is often said that the spiritual state of the natural man is analogous to that of a corpse buried in the cemetery. From one standpoint, that is correct; from another, it is utterly erroneous. The natural man is a putrefying creature, a stench in the nostrils of the Holy One; and he can no more perform a spiritual act godwards than a corpse can perform a physical act man-wards. But there the analogy ends! There is a contrast between the two cases, as well as a resemblance. A corpse has no responsibility, but the natural man has! A corpse can perform no actions; far different is the case of the sinner. He is active—active against God! Though he does not love Him (and he ought!), yet he is filled with enmity and hatred against Him.
Thus, spiritual death is not a state of passivity and inactivity, but one of aggressive hostility against God.
Here then, as everywhere, there is a balance to be preserved; yet it is rarely maintained. Far too many Calvinists, in their zeal to repudiate the free-willism of Arminians, have at the same time repudiated man’s moral agency; anxious to enforce the utter helplessness of fallen men in spiritual matters, they have virtually reduced him to an irresponsible machine. It has not been sufficiently noted that in the very next verse after the statement, “who were dead in trespasses and sins,” the apostle added, “Wherein [that is that state of spiritual death] in time past you walked [which a corpse in the grave could not!] according to the course of this world, according to the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that now works in the children of disobedience: Among whom also we all had our conversation [‘conduct’] in times past in the lusts of our flesh, fulfilling the desires of the flesh and of the mind” (Ephesians 2:1-3). So that in one sense, they were dead (that is Godward) while they lived (that is in sin); and in another sense, they lived (a life of self-seeking and of enmity against God), while dead to all spiritual things.
By the Fall, man both lost something and acquired something. Term that something a “nature” if you will, so long as you do not conceive of it as something material. That which man lost was holiness, and that which he acquired was sin; and neither the one nor the other is a substance, but rather a moral quality. A “nature” is not a concrete entity, but instead, that which characterizes and impels an entity or creature. It is the “nature” of gravitation to attract; it is the nature of fire to burn. A “nature” is not a tangible thing, but a power impelling to action, a dominating influence—an “instinct” for want of a better term. Strictly speaking, a “nature” is that which we have by our origin, as our partaking of human nature distinguishes us from the celestial creatures who are partakers of angelic nature. Thus we speak of a lion’s “nature” (ferocity), a vulture’s nature (to feed on carrion), a lamb’s nature (gentleness). A “nature,” then, describes more what a creature is by birth and disposition; and therefore, we prefer to speak of holiness or imparted grace as a “principle of good,” and indwelling sin or “the flesh” as a principle of evil—a prevalent disposition which moves its subjects to ever act in accord with its distinguishing quality.
If it be kept in mind that, strictly speaking, a “nature” is that which we have by our origin, as partaking of human nature—which distinguishes us from the celestial creatures on the one hand, and from the beasts of the field (with their animal nature) on the other—much confusion of thought will be avoided.
Furthermore, if we distinguish carefully between what our nature intrinsically consists of and what it “accidentally” (non-essentially) became and becomes by virtue of the changes passing upon it at the Fall and at regeneration, then we should have less difficulty in understanding what is signified by the Lord’s assuming our nature. When the Son of God became incarnate, He took unto Himself human nature. He was, in every respect, true Man, possessed of spirit (Luke 23:46), soul (John 12:27), and body (John 19:40): “in all things it behooved him to be made like unto his brethren” (Hebrews 2:17)—otherwise, He could not be their Surety and Mediator. This does not explain the miracle and mystery of the divine incarnation, for that is incomprehensible, but it states the fundamental fact of it. Christ did not inherit our corruption, for that was no essential part of manhood! He was born and ever remained immaculately pure and holy; nevertheless, He took upon Him our nature intrinsically considered, but not as it had been defiled by sin; and therefore is denominated “the son of Adam” (Luke 3:38).
When, then, we say that by the Fall, man became possessed of a “sinful nature,” it must not be understood that something comparable to his spirit or soul was added to his being; but instead, that a principle of evil entered into him which defiled every part of his being, as frost entering into fruit ruins it. Instead of his faculties now being influenced and regulated by holiness, they became defiled and dominated by sin. Instead of spiritual propensities and properties actuating his conduct, a carnal disposition became the law of his being. The objects and things man formerly loved, he now hated; and those which he was fitted to hate, he now desires. Therein lies both his depravity and his criminality. God holds fallen man responsible to mortify every inclination unto evil, to resist and reject every solicitation unto sin, and will justly punish him because he fails to do so. Nay more, God requires him and holds him accountable to love him with all his heart, and to employ each of his faculties in serving and glorifying Him: his failure so to do consists solely in a voluntary refusal—and for that, He will righteously judge him.
Now the miracle of grace is God’s answer to man’s ruination of himself, His begun reversal of what happened to him at the Fall.
Let us now establish that fact from the Scriptures and show this concept is no invention of ours. The very fact that Christ is denominated, “the last Adam,” implies that He came to right the wrong wrought by the first Adam—though only so far as God’s elect are concerned. Hence, we find Him saying by the Spirit of prophecy, “I restored that which I took not away” (Psalm 69:4). A lengthy article might well be written on those comprehensive words: suffice it now to say that He recovered both unto God and His people what had been lost by Adam’s defection—to the One, His manifestative honor and glory; to the other, the Holy Spirit and holiness in their hearts. What Christ did for His people is the meritorious ground of what the Spirit works in them; and at regeneration, they begin to be restored to their pristine purity, or brought back to their original state. Therefore, it is that the great change is spoken of as the “renewing of the Holy Spirit” (Titus 3:5)—that is, a renovating and restoring of spiritual life to the soul.
“Lie not one to another, seeing that you have put off the old man with his deeds; And have put on the new man, which is renewed in knowledge after the image of him that created him” (Colossians 3:9-10). Those to whom the apostle was writing had, by their profession and practice, “put off” or renounced “the old man,” and by lip and life, had avowed and exhibited the new. That new man is here said to be “renewed in knowledge,” which cannot be the obtaining of a knowledge which man never had previously, but rather, the recovery and restoration of that spiritual knowledge of God which he had originally. That is confirmed by what follows: “after the image of him that created him”—that is at the beginning. Man was originally made “in the image of God” (Genesis 1:27), which imported at least three things: First, he was constituted a tripartite being by the Triune God; and this, he continued to be after the Fall. Second, he was created in His natural image, being made a moral agent, endowed with rationality and freedom of will; and this, too, he retained. Third, he was created in God’s moral image, being “made upright,” endued “with righteousness and true holiness;” and this, which was lost when man became a sinner, is restored to him by the miracle of grace.
That which takes place in the elect at regeneration is the reversing of the effects of the Fall. The one born again is, through Christ and by the Spirit’s operations, restored to union and communion with God (1 Peter 3:18). The one who previously was spiritually dead, alienated from God, is now spiritually alive, reconciled to God. Just as spiritual death was brought about by the entrance into man’s being of a principle of evil, which darkened his understanding and hardened his heart (Ephesians 4:18), so spiritual life is the introduction of a principle of holiness into man’s soul, which enlightens his understanding and softens his heart. God communicates a new principle—one which is as real and potent unto good as indwelling sin is unto evil. Grace is now imparted, a holy disposition is wrought in the soul, a new temper of spirit is bestowed upon the inner man. But no new faculties are communicated unto him: rather are his original faculties (in measure) purified, enriched, elevated, empowered. Just as man did not become less than a threefold being when he fell, neither does he become more than a threefold being when he is renewed.
Nor will he in Heaven itself: his spirit and soul and body will then be glorified—completely purged from every taint of sin, and perfectly conformed unto the image of God’s Son.
But is not a “new nature” received by us when we are born again? If that term (in preference to “another principle”) be admitted and used, we must be careful lest we carnalize our conception of what is connoted by that expression. Much confusion has been caused at this point through failure to recognize that it is a person—and not merely a “nature”—who is born of the Spirit: “he is born of God” (1 John 3:9). The selfsame person who was spiritually dead Godwards (separated and alienated from Him) is now spiritually alive Godwards—reconciled and brought back into union and communion with Him. The same person whose entire being (and not merely some part of him!) was “dead in trespasses and sins,” wherein he “walked according to the course of this world,” according to the evil spirit who “now works in the children of disobedience,” fulfilling the lusts of the flesh (Ephesians 2:1-3); his entire being is now alive in holiness and righteousness, and he walks according to the course of God’s Word, according to the power and promptings of the Holy Spirit, who works in the children of obedience, moving them to fulfill the dispositions and develop the graces of the spirit or “new nature.”
This must be so, or otherwise, there would be no preservation of the identity of the individual: we repeat, it is the individual himself who is born again, and not merely something in him. The person of the regenerate is constitutionally the same as the person of the unregenerate, each having a spirit and soul and body. But just as in fallen man, there is also a principle of evil which has corrupted each part of his threefold being—which principle may be styled his “sinful nature” (if by that, be meant his evil disposition and character), as it is the “nature” of swine to be filthy; so when a person is born again, another and new principle is introduced into his being, which may be styled a “new nature,” if by it be meant a disposition which propels him in a new direction—Godwards. Thus, in both cases, “nature” is a moral principle rather than a tangible entity. “That which is born of the Spirit is spirit” (John 3:6)—spiritual and not material, and must not be regarded as something substantial, distinct from the soul of the regenerate, like one part of matter added to another; rather is it that which spiritualizes his inward faculties as the “flesh” had carnalized them.
When treating of regeneration under the figure of the new birth, some writers (ourselves included in earlier days) have introduced analogies from natural birth, which Scripture by no means warrants; and which, by its employment of other figures, it disallows. Physical birth is the bringing forth into this world of a creature, a complete personality, which, before conception, had no existence whatever. But the one regenerated by God had a complete personality before he was born again! To that statement, it may be objected, Not a spiritual personality. True, but keep steadily in mind that spirit and matter are opposites; and we only confuse ourselves if we think or speak of that which is “spiritual” as being something concrete. Regeneration is not the creating of a person who hitherto had no existence, but the spiritualizing of one who had—the renewing and renovating of one whom sin had unfitted for communion with God; and this, by the imparting to him of a principle, or “nature,” or life, which gives a new and different bias to all his faculties. Ever beware of regarding the Christian as made up of two distinct personalities.
A century ago, a booklet was published in England purporting to prove that “a child of God cannot backslide,” and many in a reputedly orthodox circle were evilly affected by it. Its author argued, “a regenerated man possesses two natures: an old man of sin, and a new man of grace; that the old man of sin never made any progress in the divine life nor ever can; consequently, he can never go back from that in which he had never made any advances. The new man of grace never sinned, nor ever can sin, so that he likewise can never go back or imbibe the least taint or particle of sin. How then can the child of God backslide?” A reviewer exposed this sophistry by mentioning a Papist in Germany who was a royal bishop that was very fond of hunting, and who was friendly admonished of the inconsistency of the chase with the mitre. His reply was, “I do not hunt as bishop, but as prince;” to which it was answered, “If the prince should break his neck while a-hunting and went to Hell, what would become of the bishop!” That was answering a fool according to his folly!
The “old man” and the “new man” indwell and belong to the same individual, and can no more be divorced from his person, than the bishop could be separated from the prince. It is not merely something in the Christian, but the Christian himself who backslides. What we have called attention to above is but the corollary—a carrying out to its logical conclusion of another error (equally mischievous and reprehensible, though not so fully developed): namely, wherein the “two natures” in the believer are made so prominent and dominant that the person possessing them is largely lost sight of, and his responsibility repudiated. Thus, it is just as much an idle quibble to reason that neither “the flesh” or old nature, nor “the spirit” or new nature, is capable of backsliding. It is the person possessing those two natures (or principles) who backslides; and for that, God holds him accountable and chastens him accordingly. Unless believers are much on their guard, they will eagerly snatch at any line of teaching which undermines their accountability and causes them to slur over the exceeding sinfulness of their sins, by finding a pretext for supposing they are more to be pitied than blamed.
The youth differs much from the infant, and the adult from the immature youth; nevertheless, it is the same individual, the same human person, who passes through those stages. Human beings we are; moral agents, responsible creatures we shall ever remain.
No matter what be the precise nature of the internal change we experienced at regeneration (nor how the character of that experience be defined or expressed), or whatever change awaits the body at resurrection: we shall never lose our essential personality or identity as God created us at the first. Let that be clearly understood and firmly grasped: we remain the same persons all through our history. Neither the deprivation of spiritual life at the Fall, nor the communication of spiritual life at the new birth, affects the reality of our being in possession of human nature. By the Fall, we did not become less than men; by regeneration, we do not become more than men—though our relation to God is altered. That which essentially constitutes our manhood was not lost, and no matter what be imparted to us at regeneration, our individuality and personal identity as a responsible being remains unchanged.
