How the Book "The Whole Christ" Reframes Our Understanding of the Gospel
“As fascinating as this work is as a piece of
historical analysis, it is even more important as a careful biblical and
theological guide to the always-relevant controversies surrounding legalism,
antinomianism, and assurance. I’m thankful Ferguson has put his scholarly mind
and pastoral heart on such an important topic.”
Kevin DeYoung, Senior Pastor, University Reformed Church, East Lansing, Michigan
Imagine unearthing an ancient text that provides timeless insights into present realities. Its discovery would be of inestimable worth, wouldn’t it? That is precisely what happened in 1700 when, while on a pastoral visit, Scottish Presbyterian minister Thomas Boston stumbled into a book entitled “The Marrow of Modern Divinity” by Edward Fisher. His initial reading so drew him to its content that Boston purchased the text from its owner and cherished it the rest of his life. And why? Because although it was written fifty-five years prior, it spoke with clarity to the issues he was struggling with in his own ministry. And those of us in ministry of the Word, it speaks just as much to our own.
The book would have remained unknown were it not for a controversy that arose in Boston’s time. Inspired by the precepts set forth in the book, Boston and a group of fellow ministers, who became known as “The Marrow Men,” set forth to defend what they believed was at the very heart of our faith. At stake was the nature and character of God as revealed in the gospel. The questions this obscure text addressed concerned legalism, antinomianism, and the nature of justification by faith alone in Christ alone. For the person of Christ was being separated from his benefits. And so it is even to the present day, according to Ferguson, who states that such a warping of the gospel is perennial and universal.[1]
Here are a few of the issues they grappled with then and which speaks to the Church today:
1.
It Speaks to the Nature of our Evangelism
What are we to say when we invite people to follow Christ? And what entitles them to respond to Christ? The answers to these questions may seem straightforward, yet in light of the theological climate in which they were raised, this was far from being the case. Ferguson synthesized the point this way:
Major premise: The saving grace
of God in Christ is given to the elect alone.
Minor premise: The elect are
known by the forsaking of sin.
Conclusion: Therefore forsaking sin is a prerequisite for saving grace.[2]
The consequence of accepting this set of assumptions became that the gospel turned into a “message of grace for the credentialed” rather than a promise of salvation to any sinner who would believe.[3] To whom would we then present the message of Christ if we believed this to be true? Is conviction of sin in the hearers a condition for the offer of grace to them? There are tremendous implications if pastors preach Christ thus guided:
“…the benefits of Christ’s work were being offered only to those who saw signs in themselves that they belonged to the elect. In stark contrast – as the Marrow Brethren understood, and none more clearly than Boston – the gospel offer is Christ himself in whom the blessings are found.”[4]
2.
It Speaks to the Nature of our Conversion
When the gospel is preached with these lenses, its impact goes well beyond our evangelistic efforts. It shapes the entire life of the believer, and that beginning at conversion. When I look back on the moment Christ took hold of my life, do I do so with confidence in my own holiness and receptivity? Or do I do so in humble recognition of the great sin that necessitated so great a salvation? Ferguson likens the issues the Marrow Brethren faced to those the Lord Jesus Christ faced with the Pharisees. For they believed in conditional grace, meaning that God was gracious to them because of something they had done.[5] Yet in response, Jesus pronounced curses upon them for their false teaching that led to the ruin of many (Matthew 23:15).
3.
It Speaks to the Nature of our
Sanctification
Legalism and antinomianism have often been pitted as opposite ends on a spectrum, yet Ferguson contends rather that they are two sides of the same coin. He defines legalism as:
“Any teaching that diminishes or distorts the generous love of God and the full freeness of his grace. It then distorts God’s graciousness revealed in his law and fails to see law set within its proper context in redemptive history as an expression of a gracious Father.”[6]
While much ink has been spilled discussing the role of the law in the life of the believer, a few points stood out in this book. First, that the legalist hates the law, much like the older son in the Parable of the Prodigal Son. The younger son was embraced by his father’s lavish grace and was set free to live in joyful obedience. His older brother, however, saw himself as a slave, rather than a son, and considered obedience toil rather than delight. Much like the Pharisees Jesus directed this parable to, the legalist fails to recognize the purpose of the law as a gift from his Father designed for his good. Legalism, in essence, divorces the law from the person of Christ.[7]
Similarly, at the heart of antinomianism lay a misunderstanding of the purpose of God’s law. Some assert that the law is no longer relevant, claiming that Christ’s coming rendered the law obsolete (Hebrews 8:13), and that Paul declared that we are no longer under the law (Romans 6:14). Ferguson argues, however, that Paul does not deny the glory of God present in the law, but rather that it simply pales in comparison to the glory of God revealed in Christ:[8]
The Old Testament may be likened to a chamber richly furnished but dimly lighted; the introduction of light brings into it nothing which was not in it before; but it brings out into clearer view much of what is in it but was only or even not at all perceived before…. Thus the Old Testament revelation of God is not corrected by the fuller revelation which follows it, but is only perfected, extended and enlarged.[9]
The danger of rejecting the law, therefore, is that in so doing, we lose Christ. For all of the law and the prophets spoke of him (Luke 23:27). The Old Testament believer saw Christ in the law (albeit dimly) because his transgression of the law and the appointed sacrifices pointed him to the way to be forgiven. As a result, he loved and praised God for his gracious provision.[10] And as new covenant believers we, too, look to the law and its fulfillment in Christ with joy, because without Christ, “there is no life in the law.”[11]
The only cure for both legalism and antinomianism is understanding and tasting union with Christ, which leads to a new love for and obedience to the law. Or to put it another way, we will only delight in the law when we see ourselves as married to the One who fulfilled it.[12]
4.
It Speaks to the Nature of our Assurance
Should it be normative for a believer to live with assurance of his salvation? What ought to be the basis of this assurance? The Scriptures make plain that it is possible to have false assurance (Matthew 7:21-23, 1 Corinthians 13:1-3). And it’s equally possible for doubts and fears to harass a true believer (Psalm 31:22, 77:2). Yet the question of assurance is germane precisely because it affects our ability to enjoy said salvation.
There is both a subjective and an objective element to this issue: the objective certainty that Christ is able to save, and the subjective perception that he has, in fact, saved me. John Calvin’s Institutes gives a helpful perspective on this distinction:
1) There
is an assurance in faith, because it accepts and rests on Christ.
2) This
assurance of Christ is set within a spectrum as it presses itself into the
consciousness of the believer.
3) This distance between the definition and the experience of faith is explained in terms of the conflict between the flesh and the Spirit in which the believer is involved. It is part of the not-yetness of the Christian life.[13]
On an experiential level, the Spirit testifies to our spirits that we are sons of God, crying, “Abba! Father!” (Romans 8:15-16). This is not the faint whisper of security, but a visceral cry of a hurt child who is crying out to his father for help. Such an instinctual response is absent from consciousness of the unbeliever.[14] If so, then our assurance does not rest upon our strength, but Christ’s:
“Gospel assurance is not withheld from God’s children even when they have not shown themselves to be strong. What good father would want his children’s assurance of his love to be possible only when they have sufficient accomplishments in life to merit it. Shame on such a father! Yet how sad that we impute such an attitude to out heavenly Father.”[15]
Conclusion
How does “The Whole Christ” speak to our generation? By bidding us to return to the core of our faith: the gospel of grace through union with Christ. Tim Keller put it well (from the forward to the book):
“…the root of our sinful behavior is an inability to hate sin for itself, and this stems from a tendency to see obedience as simply a way to avoid danger and have a good life – not as a way to love and know Jesus for who he is. So to grow in grace comes not simply from believing more in our justification, though we should meditate on that reality daily. Understood more comprehensively, it flows from using the gospel of grace on the root of our sin – the mistrust of God’s goodness and the inordinate love of other things. When we behold the glory of Christ in the gospel, it reorders the loves of our hearts, so we delight in him supremely, and the other things that have ruled our lives lose their enslaving power over us. This is sanctification by going deeper into the gospel, but it is not merely telling yourself that you are accepted and forgiven, as foundational as that is. In this book, Sinclair Ferguson shows us how important it is for preaching and pastoral effectiveness to get this straight.”[16]
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