The Rev. CHARLES G. FINNEY’S SYSTEMATIC THEOLOGY (1851)

V. POINT OUT THE INTRINSIC ABSURDITY OF THE VARIOUS CONFLICTING THEORIES. 

The discussion under this head has been in a great measure anticipated, as we have proceeded in the examination of the theories to which we have attended. But before I dismiss this subject, I will, in accordance with a former suggestion, notice some more instances in which the conditions have been confounded with, and mistaken for, the ground of obligation, which has resulted in much confusion and absurdity. The instances which I shall mention are all to be found in the same author (Mahan’s Moral Philosophy), whose rightarian views we have examined. He fully admits, and often affirms, that, strictly speaking, ultimate intentions alone are moral actions. That an ultimate intention must necessarily, and always, find the ground of its obligation exclusively in its object, and in nothing not intrinsic in its object. This he postulates and affirms, as critically as possible. Yet, strange to tell, he goes on to affirm the following, as exclusive grounds of obligation. For the sake of perspicuity I will state his various propositions without quoting them, as to do so would occupy too much space. 

1. Strictly speaking, ultimate intentions alone are moral actions. (Ibid. pp. 55, 124.) 

2. Ultimate intentions consist in choosing an object for its own sake, or for what is intrinsic in that object, and for no reason not intrinsic in it. (Ibid. pp. 117, 125.) 

3. Ultimate intentions must find their reasons, or the grounds of obligation, exclusively in their objects. (Ibid. pp. 55, 56.) 

4. The foundation of obligation must universally be intrinsic in the object of choice. (Ibid., pp. 56, 81, 85.) This is his fundamental position. Thus far we agree. 

5. Foundation of obligation, is not only what is intrinsic, but also in the relations of its object. (Ibid. pp. 85, 142.) But this contradicts the last assertion. 

6. All obligation is founded exclusively in the relations of our being to another. (Ibid., pp. 23, 143.) Here, a mere condition of obligation, to fulfil to those around us certain forms of duty, is confounded with, and even asserted to be, the sole ground of obligation. We have seen in a former lecture, that the various relations of life, are only conditions of certain forms of obligation, while the good connected with the performance of these duties, is the ground of all such forms of obligation. Here he again contradicts No. 4. 

7. Again, he asserts that the affirmation of obligation by the moral faculty, is the ground of obligation. (Ibid. p. 23.) Here again a condition is asserted to be the ground of obligation. The affirmation of obligation by the reason is, no doubt, a sine quà non of the obligation, but it cannot be the ground of it. What, has the moral faculty no reason for affirming obligation to choose the good of being, but the affirmation itself? Is the affirmation of obligation to choose, identical with the object of that choice? Another contradiction of No. 4. 

8. Again, he says, the foundation of obligation is found exclusively in the relation of choice to its object. (Ibid. pp. 79, 86.) Here again a condition is confounded with, and asserted to be, the exclusive ground of obligation. Contradiction again of No. 4. 

9. Again, he says that the foundation of obligation is found exclusively in the character of the choice itself. (Ibid. pp. 76.) But the character of the choice is determined by the object on which it terminates. The nature of the object must create obligation to choose it for its own sake, or the choice of it is not right. Here, it is plain, that a condition is again asserted to be the universal ground of obligation. Were it not right to choose an object, for its own sake, the choice of it would have no right character, and there could be no obligation. But it is as absurd as possible to make the character of the choice the ground of the obligation. This also contradicts No. 4. 

10. Again, he affirms, that the idea of duty is the exclusive ground of obligation. This theory we have before examined. Here it is plain, that a condition is made the exclusive ground of obligation. If we had not the idea of duty, we, of course, should not have the idea of obligation, for, in fact, these ideas are identical: but it is totally absurd to say that this idea is the ground of obligation. This also contradicts No. 4. 

11. Again, he asserts, that the relation of intrinsic fitness, existing between choice and its object, is the exclusive ground of obligation. (Ibid. p. 86.) This theory we have examined, as that of the rightarian. All I need say here is, that this is another instance in which a condition is made the sole ground of obligation. Did not this relation exist, the obligation could not exist, but it is impossible, as has been shown, that the relation should be the ground of this obligation. This also contradicts No. 4. He says, again– 

12. That obligation is sometimes founded, exclusively, in the moral character of the being to whom we are under obligation. (Ibid. p. 86.) To this theory we have alluded; I only remark here, that this is another instance of confounding a condition with the ground of certain forms of obligation. This we have seen in the preceding pages. This contradicts No. 4. 

13. That the ground of obligation is found, partly in the nature of choice, partly in the nature of the object, and partly in the relation of fitness existing between choice and its object. (Ibid. pp. 106, 107, 108.) Here, again, a condition is made the universal ground of obligation. Were not choice what it is, and good what it is, and did not the relation of fitness exist between choice and its object, obligation could not exist. But, we have seen, that it is impossible that anything but the intrinsic nature of the good should be the ground of the obligation. This contradicts No. 4. 

14. Again, he affirms, that the ground of obligation is identical with the reason, or consideration, in view of which the intellect affirms obligation: but this cannot be true. The vast majority of cases, in which we are conscious of affirming obligation, respect executive acts, or volitions, and in nearly all such cases the consideration in the immediate view of the mind, when it affirms the obligation, is some other than the ultimate reason, or ground of the obligation, and which is only a condition of obligation in that particular form. For example, the revealed will of God, the utility of the act, as preaching the gospel, or the rightness of the act, either of these may be, and often is, the reason immediately before the mind, and the reason thought of at the time, the question of duty is settled and the affirmation of obligation to perform an act of benevolence is made. But who does not know, and admit, that neither of the above reasons can be the ground of obligation to will or to do good? The writer who makes the assertion we are examining, has elsewhere and often affirmed that, in all acts of benevolence, or of willing the good of being, the intrinsic nature of the good is the ground of the obligation. It is absurd to deny this, as we have abundantly seen. The facts are these: we necessarily assume our obligation to will, and do good for its own sake. This is a necessarily-assumed and omnipresent truth with every moral agent. We go forth with this assumption in our minds; we therefore only need to know that any act, or course of action on our part, is demanded to promote the highest good; and we therefore, and in view thereof, affirm obligation to perform that act, or to pursue that course of action. Suppose a young man to be inquiring after the path of duty in regard to his future course of life; he seeks to know the will of God respecting it; he inquires after the probabilities of greater or less usefulness. If he can get clear light upon either of these points, he regards the question as settled. He has now ascertained what is right, and affirms his obligation accordingly. Now, should you ask him what had settled his convictions, and in view of what considerations he has affirmed his obligation, to preach the gospel, for example, he would naturally refer either to the will of God, to the utility of that course of life, or, perhaps, to the rightness of it. But would he, in thus doing, assign, or even suppose himself to assign, the fundamental reason or ground of the obligation? No, indeed, he cannot but know that the good to be secured by this course of life, is the ground of the obligation to pursue it; that but for the intrinsic value of the good, such a course of life would not be useful. But for the intrinsic value of the good, God would not will that he should pursue that course of life; that but for the intrinsic value of the good, such a course would not be right. God’s willing that he should preach the gospel; the utility of this course of life, and of course its rightness, all depend upon the intrinsic value of the good, to which this course of life sustains the relation of a means. The will of God, the useful tendency, or the rightness of the course, might either or all of them be thought of as reasons in view of which the obligation was affirmed, while it is self-evident that neither of them can be the ground of the obligation. In regard to executive acts, or the use of means to secure good, we almost never decide what is duty by reference to, or in view of, the fundamental reason, or ground of obligation which invariably must be the intrinsic nature of the good, but only in view of a mere condition of the obligation. Whenever the will of God reveals the path of usefulness, it reveals the path of right and of duty, and is a condition of the obligation in the sense that, without such revelation, we should not know what course to pursue to secure the highest good. The utility of any course of executive acts is a condition of its rightness, and, of course, of obligation to pursue that course. The ultimate reason, or ground of obligation to will and do good, is, and must be, in the mind, and must have its influence in the decision of every question of duty; but this is not generally the reason thought of, when the affirmed obligation respects executive acts merely. I say, the intrinsic nature of the ultimate end, for the sake of which the executive acts are demanded, must be in the mind as the ground of the obligation, and as the condition of the affirmation of the obligation to put forth executive acts to secure that end, although this fundamental reason is not in the immediate view of the mind, as the object of conscious attentions at the time. We necessarily assume our obligation to will good for its own sake; all our inquiries after diverse forms of obligation, respect ways, and means, and conditions, of securing the highest good. Whatever reveals to us the best ways and means, reveals the path of duty. We always affirm those best ways and means to be the right course of action, and assign the utility, or the rightness, or the will of God, which has required, and thus revealed them, as the reasons in view of which we have decided upon the path of duty. But, in no such case do we ever intend to assign the ultimate reason, or ground, of the obligation; and if we did, we should be under an evident mistake. In every affirmation of obligation, we do, without noticing it, assume the first truths of reason–our own liberty or ability; that every event must have a cause; that the good of universal being ought to be chosen and promoted because of its intrinsic value; that whatever sustains to that good the relation of a necessary means, ought to be chosen for the sake of the good; that God’s revealed will always discloses the best ways and means of securing the highest good, and therefore reveals universal law. These first truths are at the bottom of the mind in all affirmations of obligation, and are, universally, conditions of the affirmation of obligation. But these assumptions, or first truths, are not, in general, the truths immediately thought of when obligation to put forth executive acts is affirmed. It is, therefore, a great mistake to say that whatever consideration is in the immediate view of the mind at the time, is the ground of the obligation. 

15. With respect to obligation to will the good of being, he asserts– 

(1.) That happiness is the only ultimate good. (Ibid. pp. 114, 115.) 

(2.) That all obligation to will good, in any form, is founded exclusively in the intrinsic value or nature of the good. (Ibid. p. 97.) To this I agree. 

(3.) Again, he asserts repeatedly, that susceptibility of good is the sole ground of obligation to will good to a being. (Ibid. pp. 106, 107, 115, 116, 122.) Here, again, it is plain that a mere condition is asserted to be the universal ground of obligation to will good. Were there no susceptibility of good, we should be under no obligation to will good to a being, but susceptibility for good is of itself no better reason for willing good than evil to a being. If susceptibility were a ground of obligation, then a susceptibility of evil would be a ground of obligation to will evil. This has been abundantly shown. This contradicts Nos. 4 and 2. 

(4.) Again: holiness, he asserts, is a ground of obligation to will good to its possessor. (Ibid. pp. 102, 107.) We have seen that holiness is only a condition of obligation, in the form of willing the actual enjoyment of good by a particular individual, while in every possible instance, the nature of the good, and not the character of the individual, is the ground of the obligation. This contradicts Nos. 4 and 2. 

(5.) He affirms that holiness is never a ground of obligation to will good to any being; and that so far as willing the good of any being is concerned, our obligation is the same, whatever the character may be. (Ibid. p. 111.) This as flatly as possible contradicts what he elsewhere affirms. The several positions of this writer contradict his fundamental position, and also each other, as flatly as possible. They are but a tissue of absurdities. 

Some writers have held that the moral perfection of moral agents is the great end of creation, and that to which all such agents ought to consecrate themselves, and of course that the intrinsic nature of moral perfection is the ground of obligation. To this I reply, 

It is true that the mind of a moral agent cannot rest and be satisfied short of moral perfection. When that state is attained by any mind, so far as respects its own present state, that mind is satisfied, but the satisfaction, and not the moral perfection, is the ultimate good. Moral perfection results in happiness, or mental satisfaction, and this satisfaction is and must be the ultimate good. 

Observe, I do not say that our own happiness is the great end at which we ought to aim, or that the intrinsic value of our own enjoyment is the ground of obligation. But I do say that the highest good, or blessedness of the universe, is the ultimate good, and its nature or intrinsic value is the ground of obligation.

The Rev. CHARLES G. FINNEY’S SYSTEMATIC THEOLOGY (1851)

I HAVE NOW examined, I believe, all the various theories of the ground of obligation. I have still further to remark upon the practical influence of these various theories, for the purpose of showing the fundamental importance of a right understanding of this question. The question lies at the very foundation of all morality and religion. A mistake here is fatal to any consistent system either of moral philosophy or theology. But before I dismiss this part of the subject, I must sum up the foregoing discussion, and place, in a distinct light, the points of universal agreement among those who have agitated this question, and then state a few plain corrolaries that must follow from such premises. I think I may say that all parties will, and do, agree in the following particulars. These have been named before, but I briefly recapitulate in this summing up. The points of agreement, which I now need to mention, are only these– 

1. Moral obligation respects moral actions only. 

2. Involuntary states of mind are not, strictly speaking, moral actions. 

3. Intentions alone are, strictly speaking, moral actions. 

4. Still more strictly, ultimate intentions alone are moral actions. 

5. An ultimate choice or intention is the choice of an object for its own sake, or for what is intrinsic in the nature of the object, and for nothing which is not intrinsic in such object. 

6. The true foundation of obligation to choose an object of ultimate choice is that in the nature of the object, for the sake of which the reason affirms obligation to choose it. 

7. Ultimate choice or intention is alone right or wrong, per se, and all executive acts are right or wrong as they proceed from a right or wrong ultimate intention. 

Now, in the above premises we are agreed. It would seem that a moderate degree of logical consistency ought to make us at one in our conclusions. Let us proceed carefully, and see if we cannot detect the logical error that brings us to such diverse conclusions. 

From the above premises it must follow– 

1. That the utility of ultimate choice cannot be a foundation of obligation to choose, for this would be to transfer the ground of obligation from what is intrinsic in the object chosen to the useful tendency of the choice itself. As I have said, utility is a condition of obligation to put forth an executive act, but can never be a foundation of obligation, for the utility of the choice is not a reason found exclusively, or at all, in the object of choice. 

2. From the above premises it also follows, that the moral character of the choice cannot be a foundation of obligation to choose, for this reason is not intrinsic in the object of choice. To affirm that the character of choice is the ground of obligation to choose, is to transfer the ground of obligation to choose, from the object chosen to the character of the choice itself; but this is a contradiction of the premises. 

3. The relation of one being to another cannot be the ground of obligation to will good to that other, for the ground of obligation to will good to another must be the intrinsic nature of the good, and not the relations of one being to another. Relations may be conditions of obligation to seek to promote the good of particular individuals; but in every case the nature of the good is the ground of the obligation. 

4. Neither the relation of utility, nor that of moral fitness or right, as existing between choice and its object, can be a ground of obligation, for both these relations depend, for their very existence, upon the intrinsic importance of the object of choice; and besides, neither of these relations is intrinsic in the object of choice, which, according to the premises, it must be to be a ground of obligation. 

5. The relative importance or value of an object of choice, can never be a ground of obligation to choose that object, for its relative importance is not intrinsic in the object. The relative importance, or value, of an object may be a condition of obligation to choose it, as a condition of securing an intrinsically valuable object, to which it sustains the relation of a means, but it is a contradiction of the premises to affirm that the relations of an object can be a ground of obligation to choose that object. 

6. The idea of duty cannot be a ground of obligation; this idea is a condition, but never a foundation, of obligation, for this idea is not intrinsic in the object which we affirm it our duty to choose. 

7. The perception of certain relations existing between individuals cannot be a ground, although it is a condition of obligation, to fulfil to them certain duties. Neither the relation itself nor the perception of the relation, is intrinsic in that which we affirm ourselves to be under obligation to will or do to them; of course, neither of them can be a ground of obligation. 

8. The affirmation of obligation by the reason, cannot be a ground, though it is a condition of obligation. The obligation is affirmed, upon the ground of the intrinsic importance of the object, and not in view of the affirmation itself. 

9. The sovereign will of God, is never the foundation, though it often is a condition, of certain forms of obligation. Did we know the intrinsic or relative value of an object, we should be under obligation to choose it, whether God required it or not. 

The revealed will of God is always a condition of obligation, whenever such revelation is indispensable to our understanding the intrinsic or relative importance of any object of choice. The will of God is not intrinsic in the object, which he commands us to will, and of course cannot, according to the premises, be a ground of obligation. 

10. The moral excellence of a being can never be a foundation of obligation to will his good, for his character is not intrinsic in the good we ought to will to him. The intrinsic value of that good must be the ground of the obligation, and his good character only a condition of obligation to will his enjoyment of good in particular. 

11. Good character can never be a ground of obligation to choose anything which is not itself; for the reasons of ultimate choice must, according to the premises, be found exclusively in the object of choice. Therefore, if character is a ground of obligation to put forth an ultimate choice, it must be the object of that choice. 

12. Right can never be a ground of obligation, unless right be itself the object which we are under obligation to choose for its own sake. 

13. Susceptibility for good can never be a ground, though it is a condition, of obligation to will good to a being. The susceptibility is not intrinsic in the good which we ought to will, and therefore cannot be a ground of obligation. 

14. It also follows from the foregoing premises that no one thing can be a ground of obligation to choose any other thing, as an ultimate; for the reasons for choosing anything, as an ultimate, must be found in itself, and in nothing extraneous to itself. 

15. From the admitted fact, that none but ultimate choice or intention is right or wrong per se, and that all executive volitions, or acts, derive their character from the ultimate intention to which they owe their existence, it follows:– 

(a.) That if executive volitions are put forth with the intention to secure an intrinsically valuable end, they are right; otherwise, they are wrong. 

(b.) It also follows, that obligation to put forth executive acts is conditioned, not founded, upon the assumed utility of such acts. Again– 

(c.) It also follows, of course, that all outward acts are right or wrong, as they proceed from a right or wrong intention. 

(d.) It also follows that the rightness of any executive volition or outward act depends upon the supposed and intended utility of that volition, or act. Then utility must be assumed as a condition of obligation to put them forth, and, of course, their intended utility is a condition of their being right. 

(e.) It also follows that, whenever we decide it to be duty to put forth any outward act whatever, irrespective of its supposed utility, and because we think it right, we deceive ourselves, for it is impossible that outward acts or volitions, which from their nature are always executive, should be either obligatory or right, irrespective of their assumed utility, or tendency to promote an intrinsically valuable end. 

(f.) Not only must all such acts be supposed to have this tendency, but they must proceed from an intention, to secure the end for its own sake, as conditions of their being right. 

(g.) It follows also, that it is a gross error to affirm the rightness of an executive act, as a reason for putting it forth, even assuming that its tendency is to do evil rather than good. With this assumption no executive act can possibly be right. When God has required certain executive acts, we know that they do tend to secure the highest good, and that, if put forth to secure that good, they are right. But in no case, where God has not revealed the path of duty, as it respects executive acts, or courses of life, are we to decide upon such questions in view of the rightness, irrespective of the good tendency of such acts or courses of life; for their rightness depends upon their assumed good tendency. 

Objections.–1. But to this doctrine it has been objected, that it amounts to the papal dogma, that the end sanctifies the means. I will give the objection and my reply. 

2. That if the highest good, or well-being of God and of the universe, be the sole foundation of moral obligation, it follows that we are not under obligation to will anything except this end, with the necessary conditions and means thereof. That everything but this end, which we are bound to will, must be willed as a means to this end, or because of its tendency to promote this end. And this, it is said, is the doctrine of utility. 

To this I answer– 

The doctrine of utility is, that the foundation of the obligation to will both the end and the means is the tendency of the willing to promote the end. But this is absurd. The doctrine of these discourses is not, as utilitarians say, that the foundation of the obligation to will the end or the means is the tendency of the willing to promote that end, but that the foundation of the obligation to will both the end and the means, is the intrinsic value of end. And the condition of the obligation to will the means is the perceived tendency of the means to promote the end. 

Again, the objection that this doctrine is identical with that of the utilitarian is urged in the following form:– 

“The theory of Professor Finney, in its logical consequences, necessarily lands us in the doctrine of utility, and can lead to no other results. The affirmation of obligation, as all admit, pertains exclusively to the intelligence. The intelligence, according to Professor Finney, esteems nothing whatever as worthy of regard for its own sake, but happiness, or the good of being. Nothing else is esteemed by it, for its own sake, but exclusively as ‘a condition or a means to this end.’ Now, if the intelligence does not regard an intention for any other reason than as a condition or a means, in other words, if for no other reason does it care whether such acts do or do not exist at all, how can it require or prohibit such acts for any other reason? If the intelligence does require or prohibit intentions for no other reasons than as a condition or a means of happiness, this is the doctrine of utility, as maintained by all its advocates.” (Mahan’s Moral Philosophy, pp. 98, 99.) 

To this I reply, 1. That I do not hold that the intelligence demands the choice of an ultimate end, as a condition or a means of securing this end, but exactly the reverse of this. I hold that the intelligence does “care” whether ultimate choice or intention exists, for an entirely different reason, than as a condition or means of securing the end chosen. My doctrine is, and this objector has often asserted the same, that the intelligence demands the choice of an ultimate end for its own sake, and not because the choice tends to secure the end. What does this objector mean? Only so far back as the next page he says, in a distinct head:–“The advocates of this (his own) theory agree with Professor Finney in the doctrine that the good of being is an ultimate reason for ultimate intentions of a certain class, to wit, all intentions included in the words, willing the good of being.” (Ibid. p. 97.) Thus he expressly asserts that I hold, and that he agrees with me, that the good of being is an ultimate reason for all ultimate intentions included in the words, willing the good of being. Now, what a marvel, that on the next page, he should state as an objection, that I hold that the reason does not demand the choice of the good of being for its own sake, but only as a condition of securing the good. We agree that an ultimate reason, is a ground of obligation, and that the nature of the good renders it obligatory to choose it for its own sake; and yet this objector strangely assumes, and asserts, that the nature of the good does not impose obligation to choose it for its own sake, and that there is no reason for choosing it, but either the rightness or the utility of the choice itself. This is passing strange. Why the choice is neither right nor useful, only as the end chosen is intrinsically valuable, and for this value demands choice. He says, “Whenever an object is present to the mind, which, on account of what is intrinsic in the object itself, necessitates the will to act, two or more distinct and opposite acts are always possible relatively to such object. That act, and that act only can be right, which corresponds with the apprehended intrinsic character of the object.” (Ibid. p. 98.) 

Now, just fifteen lines below, he states that there is no reason whatever for choosing an object, but the intrinsic nature or the utility of the choice itself. Marvellous. What, almost at the same breath, affirm that no choice, but that which consists in choosing an object for its own sake, can be right, and yet that no object should be chosen for its own sake, and that the intelligence can assign no reason whatever, for the choice of an object, except the rightness or utility of the choice itself. Now, he insists, that if I deny that the rightness of the choice is the ground of the obligation to choose the good of being, I must hold that the utility of the choice is the ground of the obligation, since, as he says, there can be no other reasons for the choice. Thus I am, he thinks, convicted of utilitarianism!! 

But he still says, (Ibid. pp. 100, 101.) “In consistency with the fundamental principles of this theory, we can never account for the difference which he himself makes, and must make, between ultimate intentions and subordinate executive volitions. Both alike, as we have seen above, are, according to his theory, esteemed and regarded by the intelligence, for no other reasons than as a condition or a means of happiness. Yet he asserts that the obligation to put forth ultimate intentions is affirmed without any reference whatever to their being apprehended as a condition or a means of happiness; while the affirmation of obligation to put forth executive acts is conditioned wholly upon their being perceived to be such a condition or means. Now how can the intelligence make any such difference between objects esteemed and regarded, as far as anything intrinsic in the objects themselves is concerned, as absolutely alike?” (Ibid. pp. 100, 101.) 

To this I reply, that the forms of obligation to put forth an ultimate and an executive act, are widely different. The intelligence demands that the good be chosen for its own sake, and this choice is not to be put forth as an executive act, or with design, to secure its object. Obligation to put forth ultimate choice is, therefore, not conditioned upon the supposed utility of the choice. But an executive act is to be put forth with design to secure its ends, and therefore obligation to put forth such acts is conditioned upon their supposed utility, or tendency to secure their end. There is, then, a plain difference between obligation to put forth ultimate and executive acts. What difficulty is there, then, in reconciling this distinction with my views, stated in these lectures? 

3. It is said “that if the sole foundation of moral obligation be the highest good of universal being, all obligation pertaining to God would respect his susceptibilities and the means necessary to this result. When we have willed God’s highest well-being with the means necessary to that result, we have fulfilled all our duty to him.” 

To this I reply; certainly, when we have willed the highest well-being of God and of the universe with the necessary conditions and means thereof, we have done our whole duty to him: for this is loving him with all our heart, and our neighbour as ourselves. Willing the highest well-being of God, and of the universe, implies worship, obedience, and the performance of every duty, as executive acts. The necessary conditions of the highest well-being of the universe are, that every moral being should be perfectly virtuous, and that every demand of the intelligence and of the whole being of God and of the universe of creatures be perfectly met, so that universal mind shall be in a state of perfect and universal satisfaction. To will this is all that the law of God does or can require. 

4. It is objected, “That if this be the sole foundation of moral obligation, it follows, that if all the good now in existence were connected with sin, and all the misery connected with holiness, we should be just as well satisfied as we now are.” 

I answer: this objection is based upon an impossible supposition, and therefore good for nothing. That happiness should be connected with sin, and holiness with misery, is impossible, without a reversal of the powers and laws of moral agency. If our being were so changed that happiness were naturally connected with sin, and misery with holiness, there would, of necessity, be a corresponding change in the law of nature, or of moral law: in which case, we should be as well satisfied as we now are. But no such change is possible, and the supposition is inadmissible. But it has been demanded,– 

“Why does not our constitution demand happiness irrespective of holiness? and why is holiness as a condition of actual blessedness an unalterable demand of our intelligence? Why can neither be satisfied with mere happiness, irrespective of the conditions on which it exists, as far as moral agents are concerned? Simply and exclusively, because both alike regard something else for its own sake besides happiness.” (Ibid. p. 104.) 

The exact point of this argument is this: our nature demands that holiness should exist in connection with happiness, and sin with misery: now, does not this fact prove that we necessarily regard holiness as valuable in itself, or as an object to be chosen for its own sake? I answer, no. It only proves that holiness is regarded as right in itself, and therefore as the fit condition and means of happiness. But it does not prove, that we regard holiness as an object to be chosen for its own sake, or as an ultimate, for this would involve an absurdity. Holiness, or righteousness, is only the moral quality of choice. It is impossible that the quality of a choice should be the object of the choice. Besides, this quality of righteousness, or holiness, is created by the fact, that the choice terminates on some intrinsically valuable thing besides the choice itself. Thus, if our reason did affirm that holiness ought to be chosen for its own sake, it would affirm an absurdity and a contradiction. 

Should it be still asked, why our nature affirms that that which is right in itself is the fit condition of happiness, I answer, certainly not because we necessarily regard holiness, or that which is right in itself, as an object of ultimate choice or intention, for this, as we have just seen, involves an absurdity. The true and only answer to the question just supposed is, that such is our nature, as constituted by the Creator, that it necessarily affirms as it does, and no other reason need or can be given. The difficulty with the objector is, that he confounds right with good, and insists that what is right in itself is as really an object of ultimate choice, as that which is a good in itself. But this cannot be true. What is right? Why, according to this objector, it is the relation of intrinsic fitness that exists between choice and an object intrinsically worthy of choice. This relation of fitness, or rightness, is not and cannot be the object of the choice. The intrinsic nature or value of the object creates this relation of rightness or fitness between the choice and the object. But this rightness is not, cannot be, an object of ultimate choice. When will writers cease to confound what is right in itself with what is a good in itself, and cease to regard the intrinsically right, and the intrinsically valuable, as equally objects of ultimate choice? The thing is impossible and absurd. 

5. But it is said, that a moral agent may sometimes be under obligation to will evil instead of good to others. I answer:– 

It can never be the duty of a moral agent to will evil to any being for its own sake, or as an ultimate end. The character and governmental relations of a being may be such that it may be duty to will his punishment to promote the public good. But in this case good is the end willed, and misery only a means. So it may be the duty of a moral agent to will the temporal misery of even a holy being to promote the public interests. Such was the case with the sufferings of Christ. The Father willed his temporary misery to promote the public good. But in all cases when it is duty to will misery, it is only as a means or condition of good to the public, or to the individual, and not as an ultimate end. 

6. It has been said, “I find an unanswerable argument against this theory, also, in the relations of the universal intelligence to the moral government of God. All men do, as a matter of fact, reason from the connection between holiness and happiness, and sin and misery, under that government, to the moral character of God. In the scriptures, also, the same principle is continually appealed to. If the connection was a necessary one, and not dependent upon the divine will, it would present no more evidence of the divine rectitude, than the principle that every event has a cause, and all that is said in the scriptures about God’s establishing this connection, would be false. Virtue and vice are in their own nature absolute, and would be what they now are, did not the connection under consideration exist.” (Ibid. p. 109.) 

(1.) This objection is based upon the absurd assumption, that moral law would remain the same, though the nature of moral agents were so changed that benevolence should naturally and necessarily produce misery, and selfishness produce happiness. But this is absurd. Moral law is, and must be, the law of nature. If the natures of moral agents were changed, there must of necessity be a corresponding change of the law. Virtue and vice are fixed and unchangeable only because moral agency is so. 

(2.) The objection assumes that moral agents might have been so created as to affirm their obligation to be benevolent, though it were a fact that benevolence is necessarily connected with misery, and selfishness with happiness. But such a reversal of the nature would necessarily either destroy moral agency, and consequently moral law, or it would reverse the nature of virtue and vice. This objection overlooks, and indeed contradicts, the nature, both of moral agency and moral law. 

(3.) We infer the goodness of God from the present constitution of things, not because God could possibly have created moral agents, and imposed on them the duty of benevolence, although benevolence had been necessarily connected with misery, and selfishness with happiness; for no such thing is, or was, possible. But we infer his benevolence from the fact, that he has created moral agents, and subjected them to moral law, and thus procured an indefinite amount of good, when he might have abstained from such a work. His choice was between creating moral agents and not creating, and not between creating moral agents with a nature such as they now have, or creating them moral agents, and putting them under the same law they now have, but with a nature the reverse of what they now have. This last were absurd, and naturally impossible. Yet this objection is based upon the assumption that it was possible. 

7. It is said, that if any moral act can be conceived of which has not the element of willing the good of being in it, this theory is false. As an instance of such an act, it is insisted that revealed veracity as really imposes obligation to treat a veracious being as worthy of confidence, as susceptibility for happiness imposes obligation to will the happiness of such a being. 

To this I reply,– 

1. That it is a contradiction to say, that veracity should be the ground of an obligation to choose anything whatever but the veracity itself as an ultimate object, or for its own sake; for, be it remembered, the identical object, whose nature and intrinsic value imposes obligation, must be the object chosen for its own sake. This veracity imposes obligation to–what? Choose his veracity for its own sake? Is this what he is worthy of? O no, he is worthy of confidence. Then to treat him as worthy of confidence is not to will his veracity for its own sake, but to confide in him. But why confide in him? Let us hear this author himself answer this question:– 

“There are forms of real good to moral agents, obligation to confer which rests exclusively upon moral character. That I should, for example, be regarded and treated by moral agents around me as worthy of confidence, is one of the fundamental necessities of my nature. On what condition or grounds can I require them to render me this good? Not on the ground that it is a good in itself to me. Such fact makes no appeal whatever to the conscience relatively to the good of which I am speaking. There is one and only one consideration that can, by any possibility, reach the conscience on this subject, to wit, revealed trust-worthiness. No claim to confidence can be sustained on any other ground whatever.” (Ibid. pp. 107, 108.) 

Indeed, but how perfectly manifest is it that here a condition is confounded with, or rather mistaken for, the ground of obligation. This writer started with the assertion that confiding in a being had not “the element of willing good in it.” But here he asserts that confidence is a good to him, which we are bound to confer, and asserts that the ground of the obligation to confer this good, is not the intrinsic value of the good, but his revealed veracity. Here then, it is admitted, that to confide in a being has “the element of willing good in it.” So the objection with which he started is given up, so far as to admit that this confidence is only a particular form of “good willing,” and the only question remaining here is, whether the nature of the good, or the revealed veracity, is the ground of the obligation “to confer this form of good.” This question has been answered already. Why “confer” good rather than evil upon him? Why, because good is good and evil is evil. The intrinsic value of the good is the ground, and his veracity only a condition, of obligation to will his particular and actual enjoyment of good. He says, “no claim to confidence can be sustained on any other ground than that of revealed veracity.” I answer, that no such claim can be sustained except upon condition of revealed veracity. But if this confidence is the conferring of a good upon the individual, it is absurd to say that we are bound to confer this good, not because it is of value to him, but solely because of his veracity. Thus, this objector has replied to his own objection. 

But let us put this objection in the strongest form, and suppose it to be asserted that revealed veracity always necessitates an act of confidence, or its opposite, and that we necessarily affirm obligation to put forth an act of confidence in revealed veracity, entirely irrespective of this confidence, or this veracity, sustaining any relation whatever to the good of any being in existence. Let us examine this. We often overlook the assumptions and certain knowledges which are in our own minds, and upon which we make certain affirmations. For example, in every effort we affirm ourselves under obligation to make, to secure the good of being, we assume our moral agency and the intrinsic value of the good to being; and generally these assumptions are not thought of, when we make such affirmations of obligation. But they are in the mind: their presence then, is the condition of our making the affirmation of obligation, although they are not noticed, nor thought of at the time. Now let us see if the affirmation of obligation to put forth an act of confidence, in view of revealed truth or revealed veracity, is not conditioned upon the assumption that the revealed truth or veracity, and consequently confidence in it, does sustain some relation to, and is a condition of, the highest good of being. Suppose, for example, that I assume that a truth, or a veracity, sustains no possible relation to the good of any being in existence, and that I regard the truth or the veracity revealed, as relating wholly and only, to complete abstractions, sustaining no relation whatever to the good or ill of any being; would such a truth, or such a veracity, either necessitate action, when revealed to the mind, or would the intellect affirm obligation to act in view of it? I say, no. Nor could the intelligence so much as conceive of obligation to act in this case. It could neither see nor assume any possible reason for action. The mind in this case must be, and remain, in a state of entire indifference to such a truth and such veracity. Although the fact may be overlooked, in the sense of not thought of, yet it is a fact, that obligation to confide in truth and in revealed veracity is affirmed by reason of the assumption which lies in the intellect, as a first truth, that to confide in, or to be influenced by, truth and veracity, is a condition of the highest good of being, and the value of the good is assumed as the ground, and the relation of the truth and the veracity, and of the confidence as the condition of the obligation. Faith, or confidence in an act, as distinguished from an attribute, of benevolence, is a subordinate and not an ultimate choice. God has so constituted the mind of moral agents, that they know, by a necessary law of the intelligence, that truth is a demand of their intellectual, as really as food is of their physical nature; that truth is the natural aliment of the mind, and that conformity of heart and life to it is the indispensable condition of our highest well-being. With this intuitive knowledge in the mind, it naturally affirms its obligations to confide in revealed veracity and truth. But suppose the mind to be entirely destitute of the conception that truth, or confidence in truth, sustained any relation whatever to the good of any being;–suppose truth was to the mind a mere abstraction, with no practical relations, any more than a point in space, or a mathematical line; it seems plain that no conception of obligation to confide in it, or to act in view of it, could possibly exist in this case. If this is so, it follows that obligation to confide in truth, or in revealed veracity, is conditioned upon its assumed relations to the good of being. And if this is so, the good to which truth sustains the relation of a means, must be the ground, and the relation only the condition, of the obligation. 

But to silence all debate, the objector appeals to the universal consciousness:– 

“I now adduce against the theory of Professor Finney, and in favour of the opposite theory, the direct and positive testimony of universal consciousness. Let us suppose, for example, that the character of God, as possessed of absolute omniscience, and veracity, is before the mind, on the one hand, and his capacity for infinite happiness, on the other. I put it to the consciousness of every intelligent being, whether God’s character for knowledge and veracity does not present reasons just as ultimate for esteeming and treating him as worthy, instead of unworthy of confidence, as his susceptibilities for happiness do for willing his blessedness, instead of putting forth contradictory acts?”– Moral Philosophy, p. 106.

Yes, I answer. But why does not this objector see that susceptibility for happiness is not the ground, but only a condition, of obligation to will the happiness of a being. Susceptibility for happiness, is in itself, no better reason for willing happiness, than susceptibility for misery is for willing misery. It is the nature of happiness that constitutes the ground, while susceptibility for happiness is only a condition of the obligation to will it, to any being. Without the susceptibility happiness were impossible, and hence there could be no obligation. But, the susceptibility existing, we are, upon this condition, under obligation to will the happiness of such a being for its own sake. The writer who makes this objection, has repeatedly fallen into the strange error of assuming and affirming that susceptibility for happiness is a ground of obligation to will happiness, and here he reiterates the assertion, and lays great stress upon it, and appeals to the universal consciousness in support of the proposition, that “revealed veracity presents reasons just as ultimate, for esteeming and treating a veracious being as worthy of confidence, as susceptibilities for good do for willing good.” Yes, I say again: but neither of these presents ultimate reasons, and, of course, neither of them is a ground of obligation. Why does not this writer see that, according to his own most solemn definition of an ultimate act, this esteeming and treating a veracious being as worthy of confidence, cannot be ultimate acts? According to his own repeated showing, if veracity be a ground of obligation, that obligation must be to choose veracity for its own sake. But he says, the obligation is to esteem and treat him as worthy of confidence, and that this is “a real good which we are bound to render to him.” What, the whole point and force of the objection is that this esteeming and treating are moral acts, that have no relation to the good of any being. This is strange. But stranger still, his veracity is not only a condition, but the ground, of obligation to render this good to him. We are to will his good, or to do him good, or to render to him the good which our confidence is to him, not because it is of any value to him, but because he is truthful. 

It is perfectly plain that vast confusion reigns in the mind of that writer upon this subject, and that this objection is only a reiteration of the theory that moral excellence is a ground of obligation, which we have seen to be false.

The Rev. CHARLES G. FINNEY’S SYSTEMATIC THEOLOGY (1851)

VI. LASTLY, SHOW THE PRACTICAL TENDENCY OF THE VARIOUS THEORIES. 

It has already been observed that this is a highly practical question, and one of surpassing interest and importance. I have gone through the discussion and examination of the several principal theories, for the purpose of preparing the way to expose the practical results of those various theories, and to show that they legitimately result in some of the most soul-destroying errors that cripple the church and curse the world. I have slightly touched already upon this subject, but so slightly, however, as to forbid its being left until we have looked more stedfastly, and thoroughly, into it. 

1. I will begin with the theory that regards the sovereign will of God as the foundation of moral obligation. 

One legitimate and necessary result of this theory is, a totally erroneous conception both of the character of God, and of the nature and design of his government. If God’s will is the foundation of moral obligation, it follows that he is an arbitrary sovereign. He is not under law himself, and he has no rule by which to regulate his conduct, nor by which either himself or any other being can judge of his moral character. Indeed, unless he is subject to law, or is a subject of moral obligation, he has and can have, no moral character; for moral character always and necessarily implies moral law and moral obligation. If God’s will is not itself under the law of his infinite reason, or, in other words, if it is not conformed to the law imposed upon it by his intelligence, then his will is and must be arbitrary in the worst sense, that is, in the sense of having no regard to reason, or to the nature and relations of moral agents. But if his will is under the law of his reason, if he acts from principle, or has good and benevolent reasons for his conduct, then his will is not the foundation of moral obligation, but those reasons that lie revealed in the divine intelligence, in view of which it affirms moral obligation, or that he ought to will in conformity with those reasons. In other words, if the intrinsic value of his own well-being and that of the universe be the foundation of moral obligation; if his reason affirms his obligation to choose this as his ultimate end, and to consecrate his infinite energies to the realization of it; and if his will is conformed to this law, it follows,– 

(1.) That his will is not the foundation of moral obligation. 

(2.) That he has infinitely good and wise reasons for what he wills, says, and does. 

(3.) That he is not arbitrary, but always acts in conformity with right principles, and for reasons that will, when universally known, compel the respect and even admiration of every intelligent being in the universe. 

(4.) That he has a moral character, and is infinitely virtuous. 

(5.) That he must respect himself. 

(6.) That he must possess a happiness intelligent in kind, and infinite in degree. 

(7.) That creation, providential and moral government, are the necessary means to an infinitely wise and good end, and that existing evils are only unavoidably incidental to this infinitely wise and benevolent arrangement, and, although great, are indefinitely the less of two evils. That is, they are an evil indefinitely less than no creation and no government would have been, or than a different arrangement and government would have been. It is conceivable, that a plan of administration might have been adopted that would have prevented the present evils; but if we admit that God has been governed by reason in the selection of the end he has in view, and in the use of means for its accomplishment, it will follow that the evils are less than would have existed under any other plan of administration; or at least, that the present system, with all its evils, is the best that infinite wisdom and love could adopt. 

(8). These incidental evils, therefore, do not at all detract from the evidence of the wisdom and goodness of God; for in all these things he is not acting from caprice, or malice, or an arbitrary sovereignty, but is acting in conformity with the law of his infinite intelligence, and of course has infinitely good and weighty reasons for what he does and suffers to be done–reasons so good and so weighty, that he could not do otherwise without violating the law of his own intelligence, and therefore committing infinite sin. 

(9.) It follows also that there is ground for perfect confidence, love, and submission to his divine will in all things. That is: if his will is not arbitrary, but conformed to the law of his infinite intelligence, then it is obligatory, as our rule of action, because it reveals infallibly what is in accordance with infinite intelligence. We may always be entirely safe in obeying all the divine requirements, and in submitting to all his dispensations, however mysterious, being assured that they are perfectly wise and good. Not only are we safe in doing so, but we are under infinite obligation to do so; not because his arbitrary will imposes obligation, but because it reveals to us infallibly the end we ought to choose, and the indispensable means of securing it. His will is law, not in the sense of its originating and imposing obligation of its own arbitrary sovereignty, but in the sense of its being a revelation of both the end we ought to seek, and the means by which the end can be secured. Indeed this is the only proper idea of law. It does not in any case of itself impose obligation, but is only a revelation of obligation. Law is a condition, but not the foundation of obligation. The will of God is a condition of obligation, only so far as it is indispensable to our knowledge of the end we ought to seek, and the means by which this end is to be secured. Where these are known, there is obligation, whether God has revealed his will or not. 

The foregoing, and many other important truths, little less important than those already mentioned, and too numerous to be now distinctly noticed, follow from the fact that the good of being, and not the arbitrary will of God, is the foundation of moral obligation. But no one of them is or can be true, if his will be the foundation of obligation. Nor can any one, who consistently holds or believes that his will is the foundation of obligation, hold or believe any of the foregoing truths, nor indeed hold or believe any truth of the law or gospel. Nay, he cannot, if he be at all consistent, have even a correct conception of one truth of God’s moral government. Let us see if he can. 

(1.) Can he believe that God’s will is wise and good, unless he admits and believes that it is subject to the law of his intelligence. Certainly he cannot; and to affirm that he can is a palpable contradiction. But if he admits that the divine will is governed by the law of the divine intelligence, this is denying that his will is the foundation of moral obligation. If he consistently holds that the divine will is the foundation of moral obligation, he must either deny that his will is any evidence of what is wise and good, or maintain the absurdity, that whatever God wills is wise and good, simply for the reason that God wills it, that if he willed the directly opposite of what he does, it would be equally wise and good. But this is an absurdity palpable enough to confound any one who has reason and moral agency. 

(2.) If he consistently holds and believes that God’s sovereign will is the foundation of moral obligation, he cannot regard him as having any moral character, for the reason, that there is no standard by which to judge of his willing and acting; for, by the supposition, he has no intelligent rule of action, and, therefore, can have no moral character, as he is not a moral agent, and can himself have no idea of the moral character of his own actions; for, in fact, upon the supposition in question, they have none. Any one, therefore, who holds that God is not a subject of moral law, imposed on him by his own reason, but, on the contrary, that his sovereign will is the foundation of moral obligation, must, if consistent, deny that he has moral character; and he must deny that God is an intelligent being, or else admit that he is infinitely wicked for not conforming his will to the law of his intelligence; and for not being guided by his infinite reason, instead of setting up an arbitrary sovereignty of will. 

(3.) He who holds that God’s sovereign will is the foundation of moral obligation, instead of being a revelation of obligation, if he be at all consistent, can neither have nor assign any good reason either for confidence in him, or submission to him. If God has no good and wise reasons for what he commands, why should we obey him? If he has no good and wise reasons for what he does, why should we submit to him? 

Will it be answered, that if we refuse, we do it at our peril, and, therefore, it is wise to do so, even if he has no good reasons for what he does and requires? To this I answer that it is impossible, upon the supposition in question, either to obey or submit to God with the heart. If we can see no good reasons, but, on the other hand, are assured there are no good and wise reasons for the divine commands and conduct, it is rendered for ever naturally impossible, from the laws of our nature, to render anything more than feigned obedience and submission. Whenever we do not understand the reason for a divine requirement, or of a dispensation of divine Providence, the condition of heart-obedience to the one and submission to the other, is the assumption, that he has good and wise reasons for both. But assume the contrary, to wit, that he has no good and wise reasons for either, and you render heart-obedience, confidence, and submission impossible. It is perfectly plain, therefore, that he who consistently holds the theory in question, can neither conceive rightly of God, nor of anything respecting his law, gospel, or government, moral or providential. It is impossible for him to have an intelligent piety. His religion, if he have any, must be sheer superstition, inasmuch as he neither knows the true God, nor the true reason why he should love, believe, obey, or submit to him. In short, he neither knows, nor, if consistent, can know, anything of the nature of true religion, and has not so much as a right conception of what constitutes virtue. 

But do not understand me as affirming, that none who profess to hold the theory in question have any true knowledge of God, or any true religion. No, they are happily so purely theorists on this subject, and so happily inconsistent with themselves, as to have, after all, a practical judgment in favour of the truth. They do not see the logical consequences of their theory, and of course do not embrace them, and this happy inconsistency is an indispensable condition of their salvation. There is no end to the absurdities to which this theory legitimately conducts us, as might be abundantly shown. But enough has been said, I trust, to put you on your guard against entertaining fundamentally false notions of God and of his government, and, consequently, of what constitutes true love, faith, obedience, and submission to him. 

(4.) Another pernicious consequence of this theory is, that those who hold it will of course give false directions to inquiring sinners. Indeed, if they be ministers, the whole strain of their instructions must be false. They must, if consistent, not only represent God to their hearers as an absolute and arbitrary sovereign, but they must represent religion as consisting in submission to arbitrary sovereignty. If sinners inquire what they must do to be saved, such teachers must answer in substance, that they must cast themselves on the sovereignty of a God whose law is solely an expression of his arbitrary will, and whose every requirement and purpose is founded in his arbitrary sovereignty. This is the God whom they must love, in whom they must believe, and whom they must serve with a willing mind. How infinitely different such instructions are from those that would be given by one who knew the truth. Such an one would represent God to an inquirer as infinitely reasonable in all his requirements, and in all his ways. He would represent the sovereignty of God as consisting, not in arbitrary will, but in benevolence or love, directed by infinite knowledge in the promotion of the highest good of being. He would represent his law, not as the expression of his arbitrary will, but as having its foundation in the self-existent nature of God, and in the nature of moral agents; as being the very rule which is agreeable to the nature and relations of moral agents; that its requisitions are not arbitrary, but that the very thing, and only that, is required which is in the nature of things indispensable to the highest well-being of moral agents; that God’s will does not originate obligation by any arbitrary fiat, but, on the contrary, that he requires what he does, because it is obligatory in the nature of things; that his requirement does not create right, but that he requires only that which is naturally and of necessity right. These and many such like things would irresistibly commend the character of God to the human intelligence, as worthy to be trusted, and as a being to whom submission is infallibly safe and infinitely reasonable. 

But let the advocates of the theory under consideration but consistently press this theory upon the human intelligence, and the more they do so, the less reason can it perceive either for submitting to, or for trusting in, God. The fact is, the idea of arbitrary sovereignty is shocking and revolting, not only to the human heart, whether unregenerate or regenerate, but also to the human intelligence. Religion, based upon such a view of God’s character and government, must be sheer superstition or gross fanaticism. 

2. I will next glance at the legitimate results of the theory of the selfish school. 

This theory teaches that our own interest is the foundation of moral obligation. In conversing with a distinguished defender of this philosophy, I requested the theorist to define moral obligation, and this was the definition given: “It is the obligation of a moral agent to seek his own happiness.” Upon the practical bearing of this theory I remark,– 

(1.) It tends directly and inevitably to the confirmation and despotism of sin in the soul. All sin, as we shall hereafter see, resolves itself into a spirit of self-seeking, or into a disposition to seek good to self, and upon condition of its relations to self, and not impartially and disinterestedly. This philosophy represents this spirit of self-seeking as virtue, and only requires that in our efforts to secure our own happiness, we should not interfere with the rights of others in seeking theirs. But here it may be asked, when these philosophers insist that virtue consists in willing our own happiness, and that, in seeking it, we are bound to have respect to the right and happiness of others, do they mean that we are to have a positive, or merely a negative regard to the rights and happiness of others? If they mean that we are to have a positive regard to others’ rights and happiness, what is that but giving up their theory, and holding the true one, to wit, that the happiness of each one shall be esteemed according to its intrinsic value, for its own sake? That is, that we should be disinterestedly benevolent? But if they mean that we are to regard our neighbour’s happiness negatively, that is, merely in not hindering it, what is this but the most absurd thing conceivable? What! I need not care positively for my neighbour’s happiness, I need not will it as a good in itself, and for its own value, and yet I must take care not to hinder it. But why? Why, because it is intrinsically as valuable as my own. Now, if this is assigning any good reason why I ought not to hinder it, it is just because it is assigning a good reason why I ought positively and disinterestedly to will it; which is the same thing as the true theory. But if this is not a sufficient reason to impose obligation, positively and disinterestedly, to will it, it can never impose obligation to avoid hindering it, and I may then pursue my own happiness in my own way without the slightest regard to that of any other. 

(2.) If this theory be true, sinful and holy beings are precisely alike, so far as ultimate intention is concerned, in which we have seen all moral character consists. They have precisely the same end in view, and the difference lies exclusively in the means they make use of to promote their own happiness. That sinners are seeking their own happiness, is a truth of consciousness to them. If moral agents are under obligation to seek their own happiness as the supreme end of life, it follows, that holy beings do so. So that holy and sinful beings are precisely alike, so far as the end for which they live is concerned; the only difference being, as has been observed, in the different means they make use of to promote this end. But observe, no reason can be assigned, in accordance with this philosophy, why they use different means, only that they differ in judgment in respect to them; for, let it be remembered, that this philosophy denies that we are bound to have a positive and disinterested regard to our neighbour’s interest; and, of course, no benevolent considerations prevent the holy from using the same means as do the wicked. Where, therefore, is the difference in their character, although they do use this diversity of means? I say again, there is none. If this difference be not ascribed to disinterested benevolence in one, and to selfishness in the other, there really is and can be no difference in character between them. According to this theory nothing is right in itself, but the intention to promote my own happiness; and anything is right or wrong as it is intended to promote this result or otherwise. For let it be borne in mind that, if moral obligation respects strictly the ultimate intention only, it follows that ultimate intention alone is right or wrong in itself, and all other things are right or wrong as they proceed from a right or wrong ultimate intention. This must be true. Further, if my own happiness be the foundation of my moral obligation, it follows that this is the ultimate end at which I ought to aim, and that nothing is right or wrong in itself, in me, but this intention or its opposite; and furthermore, that everything else must be right or wrong in me as it proceeds from this, or from an opposite intention. I may do, and upon the supposition of the truth of this theory, I am bound to do, whatever will, in my estimation, promote my own happiness, and that, not because of its intrinsic value as a part of universal good, but because it is my own. To seek it as a part of universal happiness, and not because it is my own, would be to act on the true theory, or the theory of disinterested benevolence; which this theory denies. 

(3.) Upon this theory I am not to love God supremely, and my neighbour as myself. If I love God and my neighbour, it is to be only as a means of promoting my own happiness, which is not loving them, but loving myself, supremely. 

(4.) This theory teaches radical error in respect both to the character and government of God; and the consistent defenders of it cannot but hold fundamentally false views in respect to what constitutes holiness or virtue, either in God or man. They do not and cannot know the difference between virtue and vice. In short, all their views of religion cannot but be radically false and absurd. 

(5.) The teachers of this theory must fatally mislead all who consistently follow out their instructions. In preaching they must, if consistent, appeal wholly to hope and fear, instead of addressing the heart through the intelligence. All their instructions must tend to confirm selfishness. All the motives they present, if consistent, tend only to stir up a zeal within them to secure their own happiness. If they pray, it will only be to implore the help of God to accomplish their selfish ends. 

Indeed, it is impossible that this theory should not blind its advocates to the fundamental truths of morality and religion, and it is hardly conceivable that one could more efficiently serve the devil than by the inculcation of such a philosophy as this. 

3. Let us in the next place look into the natural and, if its advocates are consistent, necessary results of utilitarianism. 

This theory, you know, teaches that the utility of an action or of a choice, renders it obligatory. That is, I am bound to will good, not for the intrinsic value of the good; but because willing good tends to produce good–to choose an end, not because of the intrinsic value of the end, but because the willing of it tends to secure it. The absurdity of this theory has been sufficiently exposed. It only remains to notice its legitimate practical results. 

(1.) It naturally, and, I may say, necessarily diverts the attention from that in which all morality consists, namely, the ultimate intention. Indeed, it seems that the abettors of this scheme must have in mind only outward action, or at most executive volitions, when they assert, that the tendency of an action is the reason of the obligation to put it forth. It seems impossible that they should assert that the reason for choosing an ultimate end should or could be the tendency of choice to secure it. This is so palpable a contradiction, that it is difficult to believe that they have ultimate intention in mind when they make the assertion. An ultimate end is ever chosen for its intrinsic value, and not because choice tends to secure it. How, then, is it possible for them to hold that the tendency of choice to secure an ultimate end is the reason of an obligation to make that choice? But if they have not their eye upon ultimate intention, when they speak of moral obligation, they are discoursing of that which is strictly without the pale of morality. I said in a former lecture, that the obligation to put forth volitions or outward actions to secure an ultimate end, must be conditionated upon the perceived tendency of such volitions and actions to secure that end, but while this tendency is the condition of the obligation to executive volition, or outward action, the obligation is founded in the intrinsic value of the end to secure which such volitions tend. So that utilitarianism gives a radically false account of the reason of moral obligation. A consistent utilitarian therefore cannot conceive rightly of the nature of morality or virtue. He cannot consistently hold that virtue consists in willing the highest well-being of God and of the universe as an ultimate end or for its own sake, but must, on the contrary, confine his ideas of moral obligation to volitions and outward actions, in which there is strictly no morality, and withal assign an entirely false reason for these, to wit, their tendency to secure an end, rather than the value of the end which they tend to secure. 

This is the proper place to speak of the doctrine of expediency, a doctrine strenuously maintained by utilitarians, and as strenuously opposed by rightarians. It is this, that whatever is expedient is right, for the reason, that the expediency of an action or measure is the foundation of the obligation to put forth that action, or adopt that measure. It is easy to see that this is just equivalent to saying, that the utility of an action or measure is the reason of the obligation to put forth that action or adopt that measure. But, as we have seen, utility, tendency, expediency, is only a condition of the obligation, to put forth outward action or executive volition, but never the foundation of the obligation,–that always being the intrinsic value of the end to which the volition, action, or measure, sustains the relation of a means. I do not wonder that rightarians object to this, although I do wonder at the reason which, if consistent, they must assign for this obligation, to wit, that any action or volition, (ultimate intention excepted,) can be right or wrong in itself, irrespective of its expediency or utility. This is absurd enough, and flatly contradicts the doctrine of rightarians themselves, that moral obligation strictly belongs only to ultimate intention. If moral obligation belongs only to ultimate intention, then nothing but ultimate intention can be right or wrong in itself. And every thing else, that is, all executive volitions and outward actions must be right or wrong, (in the only sense in which moral character can be predicated of them,) as they proceed from a right or wrong ultimate intention. This is the only form in which rightarians can consistently admit the doctrine of expediency, viz., that it relates exclusively to executive volitions and outward actions. And this they can admit only upon the assumption, that executive volitions and outward actions have strictly no moral character in themselves, but are right or wrong only as, and because, they proceed necessarily from a right or wrong ultimate intention. All schools that hold this doctrine, to wit, that moral obligation respects the ultimate intention only, must, if consistent, deny that any thing can be either right or wrong per se, but ultimate intention. Further, they must maintain, that utility, expediency, or tendency to promote the ultimate end upon which ultimate intention terminates, is always a condition of the obligation to put forth those volitions and actions that sustain to this end the relation of means. And still further, they must maintain, that the obligation to use those means must be founded in the value of the end, and not in the tendency of the means to secure it; for unless the end be intrinsically valuable, the tendency of means to secure it can impose no obligation to use them. Tendency, utility, expediency, then, are only conditions of the obligation to use any given means, but never the foundation of obligation. An action or executive volition is not obligatory, as utilitarians say, because, and for the reason, that it is useful or expedient, but merely upon condition that it is so. The obligation in respect to outward action is always founded in the value of the end to which this action sustains the relation of a means, and the obligation is conditionated upon the perceived tendency of the means to secure that end. Expediency can never have respect to the choice of an ultimate end, or to that in which moral character consists, to wit, ultimate intention. The end is to be chosen for its own sake. Ultimate intention is right or wrong in itself, and no questions of utility, expediency, or tendency, have any thing to do with the obligation to put forth ultimate intention, there being only one ultimate reason for this, namely, the intrinsic value of the end itself. It is true, then, that whatever is expedient is right, not for that reason, but only upon that condition. The inquiry then, is it expedient? in respect to outward action, is always proper; for upon this condition does obligation to outward action turn. But in respect to ultimate intention, or the choice of an ultimate end, an inquiry into the expediency of this choice or intention is never proper, the obligation being founded alone upon the perceived and intrinsic value of the end, and the obligation being without any condition whatever, except the possession of the powers of moral agency, with the perception of the end upon which intention ought to terminate, namely, the good of universal being. But the mistake of the utilitarian, that expediency is the foundation of moral obligation, is fundamental, for, in fact, it cannot be so in any case whatever. I have said, and here repeat, that all schools that hold that moral obligation respects ultimate intention only, must, if consistent, maintain that perceived utility, expediency, &c., is a condition of obligation to put forth any outward action, or, which is the same thing, to use any means to secure the end of benevolence. Therefore, in practice or in daily life, the true doctrine of expediency must of necessity have a place. The railers against expediency, therefore, know not what they say nor whereof they affirm. It is, however, impossible to proceed in practice upon the utilitarian philosophy. This teaches that the tendency of an action to secure good, and not the intrinsic value of the good, is the foundation of the obligation to put forth that action. But this is too absurd for practice. For, unless the intrinsic value of the end be assumed as the foundation of the obligation to choose it, it is impossible to affirm obligation to put forth an action to secure that end. The folly and the danger of utilitarianism is, that it overlooks the true foundation of moral obligation, and consequently the true nature of virtue or holiness. A consistent utilitarian cannot conceive rightly of either. 

The teachings of a consistent utilitarian must of necessity abound with pernicious error. Instead of representing virtue as consisting in disinterested benevolence, or in the consecration of the soul to the highest good of being in general, for its own sake, it must represent it as consisting wholly in using means to promote good:–that is, as consisting wholly in executing volitions and outward actions, which, strictly speaking, have no moral character in them. Thus consistent utilitarianism inculcates fundamentally false ideas of the nature of virtue. Of course it must teach equally erroneous ideas respecting the character of God–the spirit and the meaning of his law–the nature of repentance–of sin–of regeneration–and, in short, of every practical doctrine of the Bible.

The Rev. CHARLES G. FINNEY’S SYSTEMATIC THEOLOGY (1851)

PRACTICAL BEARINGS OF DIFFERENT THEORIES.

4. Practical bearings and tendency of rightarianism. 

It will be recollected that this philosophy teaches that right is the foundation of moral obligation. With its advocates, virtue consists in willing the right for the sake of the right, instead of willing the good for the sake of the good, or, more strictly, in willing the good for the sake of the right, and not for the sake of the good; or, as we have seen, the foundation of obligation consists in the relation of intrinsic fitness existing between the choice and the good. The right is the ultimate end to be aimed at in all things, instead of the highest good of being for its own sake. From such a theory the following consequences must flow. I speak only of consistent rightarianism. 

(1.) The law of benevolence undeniably requires the good of being to be willed for its own sake. But this theory is directly opposed to this, and maintains that the good should be chosen because it is right, and not because of the nature of the good. It overlooks the fact, that the choice of the good would not be right, did not the nature of the good create the obligation to choose it for its own sake, and consequently originate the relation of fitness or rightness between the choice and the good. 

But if the rightarian theory is true, there is a law of right entirely distinct from, and opposed to, the law of love or benevolence. The advocates of this theory often assume, perhaps unwittingly, the existence of such a law. They speak of multitudes of things as being right or wrong in themselves, entirely independent of the law of benevolence. Nay, they go so far as to affirm it conceivable that doing right might necessarily tend to, and result in, universal misery; and that, in such a case, we should be under obligation to do right, or will right, or intend right, although universal misery should be the necessary result. This assumes and affirms that right has no necessary relation to willing the highest good of being for its own sake, or, what is the same thing, that the law of right is not only distinct from the law of benevolence, but is directly opposed to it; that a moral agent may be under obligation to will as an ultimate end that which he knows will and must, by a law of necessity, promote and secure universal misery. Rightarians sternly maintain that right would be right, and that virtue would be virtue, although this result were a necessary consequence. What is this but maintaining that moral law may require moral agents to set their hearts upon and consecrate themselves to that which is necessarily subversive of the well-being of the entire universe? And what is this but assuming that that may be moral law that requires a course of willing and acting entirely inconsistent with the nature and relations of moral agents? Thus virtue and benevolence not only may be different but opposite things; of course, according to this, benevolence may be sin. This is not only opposed to our reason, but a more capital or mischievous error in morals or philosophy can hardly be conceived. 

Nothing is or can be right, as an ultimate choice, but benevolence. Nothing is or can be moral law but that which requires that course of willing and acting that tends to secure the highest well-being of God and the universe. Nothing can be moral law but that which requires that the highest well-being of God and of the universe should be chosen as an ultimate end. If benevolence is right, this must be self-evident. Rightarianism overlooks and misrepresents the very nature of moral law. Let any one contemplate the grossness of the absurdity that maintains, that moral law may require a course of willing that necessarily results in universal and perfect misery. What then, it may be asked, has moral law to do with the nature and relations of moral agents, except to mock, insult, and trample them under foot? Moral law is, and must be, the law of nature, that is, suited to the nature and relations of moral agents. But can that law be suited to the nature and relations of moral agents that requires a course of action necessarily resulting in universal misery? Rightarianism then, not only overlooks, but flatly contradicts, the very nature of moral law, and sets up a law of right in direct opposition to the law of nature. 

(2.) This philosophy tends naturally to fanaticism. Conceiving as it does of right as distinct from, and often opposed to, benevolence, it scoffs or rails at the idea of inquiring what the highest good evidently demands. It insists that such and such things are right or wrong in themselves, entirely irrespective of what the highest good demands. Having thus in mind a law of right distinct from, and perhaps, opposed to benevolence, what frightful conduct may not this philosophy lead to? This is indeed the law of fanaticism. The tendency of this philosophy is illustrated in the spirit of many reformers, who are bitterly contending for the right, which, after all, is to do nobody any good. 

(3.) This philosophy teaches a false morality and a false religion. It exalts right above God, and represents virtue as consisting in the love of right instead of the love of God. It exhorts men to will the right for the sake of the right, instead of the good of being for the sake of the good, or for the sake of being. It teaches us to inquire, How shall I do right? instead of, How shall I do good? What is right? instead of, What will most promote the good of the universe? Now that which is most promotive of the highest good of being, is right. To intend the highest well-being of God and of the universe, is right. To use the necessary means to promote this end, is right; and whatever in the use of means or in outward action is right, is so for this reason, namely, that it is designed to promote the highest well-being of God and of the universe. To ascertain, then, what is right, we must inquire, not into a mere abstraction, but what is intended. Or if we would know what is duty, or what would be right in us, we must understand that to intend the highest well-being of the universe as an end, is right and duty; and that in practice every thing is duty or right that is honestly intended to secure this. Thus and thus only can we ascertain what is right in intention, and what is right in the outward life. But rightarianism points out an opposite course. It says: Will the right for the sake of the right, that is, as an end; and in respect to means, inquire not what is manifestly for the highest good of being, for with this you have nothing to do; your business is to will the right for the sake of the right. If you inquire how you are to know what is right, it does not direct you to the law of benevolence as the only standard, but it directs you to an abstract idea of right, as an ultimate rule, having no regard to the law of benevolence or love. It tells you that right is right, because it is right; and not that right is conformity to the law of benevolence, and right for this reason. The truth is that subjective right, or right in practice, is only a quality of disinterested benevolence. But the philosophy in question denies this, and holds that, so far from being a quality of benevolence, it must consist in willing the good for the sake of the right. Now certainly such teaching is radically false, and subversive of all sound morality and true religion. 

(4.) As we have formerly seen, this philosophy does not represent virtue as consisting in the love of God, or of Christ, or our neighbour. Consistency must require the abettors of this scheme to give fundamentally false instructions to inquiring sinners. Instead of representing God and all holy beings as devoted to the public good, and instead of exhorting sinners to love God and their neighbour, this philosophy must represent God and holy beings as consecrated to right for the sake of the right; and must exhort sinners, who ask what they shall do to be saved, to will the right for the sake of the right, to love the right, to deify right, and fall down and worship it. There is much of this false morality and religion in the world and in the church. Infidels are great sticklers for this religion, and often exhibit as much of it as do some rightarian professors of religion. It is a severe, stern, loveless, Godless, Christless philosophy, and nothing but happy inconsistency prevents its advocates from manifesting it in this light to the world. I have already, in a former lecture, shown that this theory is identical with that which represents the idea of duty as the foundation of moral obligation, and that it gives the same instructions to inquiring sinners. It exhorts them to resolve to do duty, to resolve to serve the Lord, to make up their minds at all times to do right, to resolve to give their hearts to God, to resolve to conform in all things to right, &c. The absurdity and danger of such instructions were sufficiently exposed in the lecture referred to. (See Lecture VIII. 8-Ed.) The law of right, when conceived of as distinct from, or opposed to, the law of benevolence, is a perfect strait-jacket, an iron collar, a snare of death. 

This philosophy represents all war, all slavery, and many things as wrong per se, without insisting upon such a definition of those things as necessarily implies selfishness. Any thing whatever is wrong in itself that includes and implies selfishness, and nothing else is or can be. All war waged for selfish purposes is wrong per se. But war waged for benevolent purposes, or war required by the law of benevolence, and engaged in with a benevolent design, is neither wrong in itself, nor wrong in any proper sense. All holding men in bondage from selfish motives is wrong in itself, but holding men in bondage in obedience to the law of benevolence is not wrong but right. And so it is with every thing else. Therefore, where it is insisted that all war and all slavery, or any thing else is wrong in itself, such a definition of things must be insisted on as necessarily implies selfishness. But consistent rightarianism will insist that all war, all slavery, and all of many other things, is wrong in itself, without regard to its being a violation of the law of benevolence. This is consistent with such philosophy, but it is most false and absurd in fact. Indeed, any philosophy that assumes the existence of a law of right distinct from, and possibly opposed to, the law of benevolence, must teach many doctrines at war with both reason and revelation. It sets men in chase of a philosophical abstraction as the supreme end of life, instead of the concrete reality of the highest well-being of God and the universe. It preys upon the human soul, and turns into solid iron all the tender sensibilities of our being. Do but contemplate a human being supremely devoted to an abstraction, as the end of human life. He wills the right for the sake of the right. Or, more strictly, he wills the good of being, not from any regard to being, but because of the relation of intrinsic fitness or rightness existing between choice and its object. For this he lives, and moves, and has his being. What sort of religion is this? I wish not to be understood as holding, or insinuating, that professed rightarians universally, or even generally, pursue their theory to its legitimate boundary, and that they manifest the spirit that it naturally begets. No. I am most happy in acknowledging that with many, and perhaps with most of them, it is so purely a theory, that they are not greatly influenced by it in practice. Many of them I regard as the excellent of the earth, and I am happy to count them among my dearest and most valued friends. But I speak of the philosophy, with its natural results when embraced, not merely as a theory, but when adopted by the heart as the rule of life. It is only in such cases that its natural and legitimate fruits appear. Only let it be borne in mind that right is conformity to moral law, that moral law is the law of nature, or the law founded in the nature and relations of moral agents, the law that requires just that course of willing and action that tends naturally to secure the highest well-being of all moral agents, that requires this course of willing and acting for the sake of the end in which it naturally and governmentally results–and requires that this end shall be aimed at or intended by all moral agents as the supreme good and the only ultimate end of life;–I say, only let these truths be borne in mind, and you will never talk of a right, or a virtue, or a law, obedience to which necessarily results in universal misery; nor will you conceive that such a thing is possible.

5. The philosophy that comes next under review is that which teaches that the divine goodness, or moral excellence, is the foundation of moral obligation.

The practical tendency of this philosophy is to inculcate and develope a false idea of what constitutes virtue. It inevitably leads its advocates to regard religion as consisting in a mere feeling of complacency in God. It overlooks, and, if consistent, must overlook the fact that all true morality and religion consist in benevolence, or in willing the highest well-being of God and the universe as an ultimate end. It must represent true religion either as a phenomenon of the sensibility, or as consisting in willing the goodness or benevolence of God as an end; either of which is radical error. This scheme does not, and cannot, rightly represent either the character of God, or the nature and spirit of his law and government. In teaching, it presents the benevolence of God, not as an inducement to benevolence in us, that is, not as a means of leading us to consider and adopt the same end of life to which God is consecrated, but as being the end to which we are to consecrate ourselves. It holds forth the goodness of God, not for the sake of setting the great end he has in view strongly before us, and inducing us to become like him in consecrating ourselves to the same end, to wit, the highest good of being; but it absurdly insists that his goodness is the foundation of our obligation, which is the same thing as to insist that we are to make his goodness the ultimate end of life, instead of that end at which God aims, and aiming at which constitutes his virtue. Instead of representing the benevolence of God as clearly revealing our obligation to be benevolent, it represents his benevolence as being the foundation of obligation. Obligation to what? Not to will good, certainly; for it is a gross contradiction, as we have repeatedly seen, to say that I am under obligation to will good to God, as an ultimate end, or for its own sake, yet not for this reason, but because God is good. This philosophy, if consistent, must present the goodness of God as a means of awakening emotions of complacency in God, and not for the purpose of making us benevolent, for it does not regard religion as consisting in benevolence, but in a love to God for his goodness, which can be nothing else than a feeling of complacency. But this is radical error. The practical bearings of this theory are well illustrated in the arguments used to support it, as stated and refuted when examining its claims in a former lecture. The fact is, it misrepresents the character, law, and government of God, and, of necessity, the nature of true religion. It harps perpetually on the goodness of God as the sole reason for loving him, which demonstrates that benevolence does not, and consistently cannot, enter into its idea of virtue or true religion. 

There is, no doubt, a vast amount of spurious, selfish religion in the world growing out of this philosophy. Many love God because they regard him as loving them, as being their benefactor and particular friend. They are grateful for favours bestowed on self. But they forget the philosophy and theology of Christ, who said; “If ye love them that love you, what thank have ye? Do not even sinners love those that love them?” They seem to have no idea of a religion of disinterested benevolence. Many of those who hold this view regard religion as consisting in involuntary emotions and affections, and seem disposed to love God in proportion as they imagine him to regard them as his especial favourites. They regard his fancied partiality to them as an instance of particular goodness in him. They want to feel emotions of complacency in God, in view of his particular regard to them, rather than to sympathize with his universal benevolence.

6. The next theory to be noticed is that which teaches that moral order is the foundation of moral obligation.

The practical objection to this theory is, that it presents a totally wrong end as the great object of life. According to the teachings of this school, moral order is that intrinsically valuable end at which all moral agents ought to aim, and to which they are bound to consecrate themselves. If by moral order the highest good of being is intended, this philosophy is only another name for the true one. But if, as I suppose is the fact, by moral order no such thing as the highest good of God and the universe is intended, then the theory is false, and cannot teach other than pernicious error. It must misrepresent God, his law and government, and of course must hold radically false views in respect to the nature of holiness and sin. It holds up an abstraction as the end of life, and exalts moral order above all that is called God. It teaches that men ought to love moral order with all the heart, and with all the soul. But the theory is sheer nonsense, as was shown in its place. Its practical bearing is only to bewilder and confuse the mind. The idea that benevolence is true religion, can have no practical influence on a mind that has consistently embraced this theory of moral order. Any philosophy that obscures this idea of benevolence, and confuses the mind in respect to the true end of life, is fatal to virtue and to salvation. 

Again: The theory must overlook or deny the fact that moral obligation respects the ultimate intention; for it seems impossible that any one possessing reason can suppose, that moral order can be the end to which moral beings ought to consecrate themselves. The absurdity of the theory itself was sufficiently exposed in a former lecture. Its practical bearings and tendency are only to introduce confusion into all our ideas of moral law and moral government.

7. We next come to the theory that moral obligation is founded in the nature and relations of moral agents.

The first objection to this theory is, that it confounds the conditions of moral obligation with its foundation. The nature and relations of moral beings are certainly conditions of their obligation to will each other’s good. But it is absolutely childish to affirm that the obligation to will each other’s good is not founded in the value of the good, but in the nature and relations of moral beings. But for the intrinsic value of their good, their nature and relations would be no reason at all why they should will good rather than evil to each other. To represent the nature and relations of moral agents as the foundation of moral obligation, is to mystify and misrepresent the whole subject of moral law, moral government, moral obligation, the nature of sin and holiness, and produce confusion in all our thoughts on moral subjects. What but grossest error can find a lodgment in that mind that consistently regards the nature and relations of moral beings as the foundation of moral obligation? If this be the true theory, then the nature and relations of moral agents is the ultimate end to which moral agents are bound to consecrate themselves. Their nature and relations is the intrinsically valuable end which we are bound to choose for its own sake. This is absurd. But if this philosophy misrepresents the foundation of moral obligation, it can consistently teach absolutely nothing but error on the whole subject of morals and religion. If it mistakes the end to be intended by moral agents, it errs on the fundamental principle of all morals and religion. As all true morality and true religion consist exclusively in willing the right end, if this end be mistaken, the error is fatal. It is, then, no light thing to hold that moral obligation is founded in the nature and relations of moral beings. Such statements are a great deal worse than nonsense–they are radical error on the most important subject in the world. What consistency can there be in the views of one who holds this theory? What ideas must he have of moral law, and of everything else connected with practical theology? Instead of willing the highest good of God and of being, he must hold himself under obligation to will the nature and relations of moral beings as an ultimate end.

8. The next theory in order is that which teaches that the idea of duty is the foundation of moral obligation.

But as I sufficiently exposed the tendency and practical bearings of this theory in a former lecture, I will not repeat here, but pass to the consideration of another theory.

9. The complexity of the foundation of moral obligation.

In respect to the practical bearings of this theory, I remark,– 

(1.) The reason that induces choice is the real object chosen. If, for example, the value of an object induce the choice of that object, the valuable is the real object chosen. If the rightness of a choice of an object induce choice, then the right is the real object chosen. If the virtuousness of an object induce choice, then virtue is the real object chosen. 

(2.) Whatever really influences the mind in choosing must be an object chosen. Thus if the mind have various reasons for a choice, it will choose various ends or objects. 

(3.) If the foundation of moral obligation be not a unit, moral action or intention cannot be simple. If anything else than the intrinsically valuable to being is, or can be, the foundation of moral obligation, then this thing, whatever it is, is to be chosen for its own sake. If right, justice, truth, virtue, or anything else is to be chosen as an end, then just so much regard must be had to them, as their nature and importance demand. If the good or valuable to being be an ultimate good, and truth, and justice, and virtue are also to be chosen each for its own sake, here we meet with this difficulty, namely, that the good or valuable is one end to be chosen, and right another, and virtue another, and truth another, and justice another, and the beautiful another, and so on. Now if this be so, moral obligation cannot be a unit, nor can moral action be simple. If there be more ultimate considerations than one that ought to have influence in deciding choice, the choice is not right, unless each consideration that ought to have weight, really has the influence due to it in deciding choice. If each consideration has not its due regard, the choice certainly is not what it ought to be. In other words, all the things that ought to be chosen for their own sakes are not chosen. Indeed, it is self-evident that, if there is complexity in the ultimate end or end to be chosen, there must be the same complexity in the choice, or the choice is not what it ought to be; and if several considerations ought to influence ultimate choice, then there are so many distinct ultimate ends. If this is so, then each of them must have its due regard in every case of virtuous intention. But who then could ever tell whether he allowed to each exactly the relative influence it ought to have? This would confound and stultify the whole subject of moral obligation. This theory virtually and flatly contradicts the law of God and the repeated declaration that love to God and our neighbour is the whole of virtue. What! does God say that all the law is fulfilled in one word–love, that is, love to God and our neighbour? and shall a Christian philosopher overlook this, and insist that we ought to love not only God and our neighbour, but to will the right, and the true, and the just, and the beautiful, and multitudes of such like things for their own sake? The law of God makes and know only one ultimate end, and shall this philosophy be allowed to confuse us by teaching that there are many ultimate ends, that we ought to will each for its own sake?

10. Lastly, I come to the consideration of the practical bearings of what I regard as the true theory of the foundation of moral obligation, namely, that the intrinsic nature and value of the highest well-being of God and of the universe is the sole foundation of moral obligation.

Upon this philosophy I remark– 

1. That if this be true, the whole subject of moral obligation is perfectly simple and intelligible; so plain, indeed, that “the wayfaring man, though a fool, cannot err therein.” 

(1.) Upon this theory, moral obligation respects the choice of an ultimate end. 

(2.) This end is a clear, simple unit. 

(3.) It is necessarily known to every moral agent. 

(4.) The choice of this end is the whole of virtue. 

(5.) It is impossible to sin while this end is sincerely intended with all the heart and with all the soul. 

(6.) Upon this theory, every moral agent knows in every possible instance what is right, and can never mistake his real duty. 

We may state it thus– 

His duty is to will this end with all the known conditions and means thereof. Intending this end with a single eye, and doing what appears to him, with all the light he can obtain, to be in the highest degree calculated to secure this end, he really does his duty. If in this case he is mistaken in regard to what is the best means of securing this end, still, with a benevolent intention, he does not sin. He has done right, for he has intended as he ought, and acted outwardly as he thought was the path of duty, under the best light he could obtain. This, then, was his duty. He did not mistake his duty; because it was duty to intend as he intended, and under the circumstances, to act as he acted. How else should he have acted? 

(7.) This ultimate intention is right, and nothing else is right, more or less. 

(8.) Right and wrong respect ultimate intention only, and are always the same. Right can be predicated only of good will, and wrong only of selfishness. These are fixed and permanent. If a moral agent can know what end he aims at or lives for, he can know, and cannot but know, at all times, whether he is right or wrong. All that upon this theory a moral agent needs to be certain of is, whether he lives for the right end, and this, if at all honest, or if dishonest, he really cannot but know. If he would ask, what is right or what is duty at any time, he need not wait for a reply. It is right for him to intend the highest good of being as an end. If he honestly does this, he cannot mistake his duty, for in doing this he really performs the whole of duty. With this honest intention, it is impossible that he should not use the means to promote this end, according to the best light he has; and this is right. A single eye to the highest good of God and the universe, is the whole of morality, strictly considered; and, upon this theory, moral law, moral government, moral obligation, virtue, vice, and the whole subject of morals and religion are the perfection of simplicity. If this theory be true, no honest mind ever mistook the path of duty. To intend the highest good of being is right and is duty. No mind is honest that is not steadily pursuing this end. But in the honest pursuit of this end there can be no sin, no mistaking the path of duty. That is and must be the path of duty that really appears to a benevolent mind to be so. That is, it must be his duty to act in conformity with his honest convictions. This is duty, this is right. So, upon this theory, no one who is truly honest in pursuing the highest good of being, ever did or can mistake his duty in any such sense as to commit sin. I have spoken with great plainness, and perhaps with some severity, of the several systems of error, as I cannot but regard them upon the most fundamental and important of subjects; not certainly from any want of love to those who hold them, but from a concern, long cherished and growing upon me, for the honour of truth and for the good of being. Should any of you ever take the trouble to look into this subject, in its length and breadth, and read the various systems, and take the trouble to trace out their practical results, as actually developed in the opinions and practices of men, you certainly would not be at a loss to account for the theological and philosophical fogs that so bewilder the world. How can it be otherwise, while such confusion of opinion prevails upon the fundamental question of morals and religion? 

How is it, that there is so much profession and so little real practical benevolence in the world? Multitudes of professed Christians seem to have no conception that benevolence constitutes true religion; that nothing else does; and that selfishness is sin, and totally incompatible with religion. They live on in their self-indulgences, and dream of heaven. This could not be, if the true idea of religion, as consisting in sympathy with the benevolence of God, was fully developed in their minds. 

I need not dwell upon the practical bearings of the other theories, which I have examined; what I have said may suffice, as an illustration of the importance of being well-established in this fundamental truth. It is affecting to see what conceptions multitudes entertain in regard to the real spirit and meaning of the law and gospel of God, and, consequently, of the nature of holiness. 

In dismissing this subject, I would remark, that any system of moral philosophy that does not correctly define a moral action, and the real ground of obligation, must be fundamentally defective. Nay, if consistent, it must be highly pernicious and dangerous. But let moral action be clearly and correctly defined, let the true ground of obligation be clearly and correctly stated; and let both these be kept constantly in view, and such a system would be of incalculable value. It would be throughout intelligible, and force conviction upon every intelligent reader. But I am not aware that any such system exists. So far as I know, they are all faulty, either in their definition of a moral action, and do not fasten the eye upon the ultimate intention, and keep it there as being the seat of moral character, and that from which the character of all our actions is derived; or they soon forget this, and treat mere executive acts as right or wrong, without reference to the ultimate intention. I believe they have all failed in not clearly defining the true ground of obligation, and, consequently, are faulty in their definition of virtue. It is truly wonderful, that those who hold with President Edwards, that virtue consists in disinterested benevolence, should also insist that right is the ground of obligation. This is a contradiction. If right be the true ground of obligation, then benevolence can never be right. Benevolence consists in willing the good of being for the sake of the good; in consecration to the good of being in general, for its own sake. But if right be the ground of obligation, it is universally duty to will right instead of the good of being as an end. 

According to this theory, benevolence is sin. It is consecration to the wrong end. Nay, if any other theory than the one I have endeavoured to maintain be the true one, then disinterested benevolence is sin. But if the benevolence theory be the true one, then conformity to every other theory is sin. It is undeniable, that virtue must belong to the ultimate intention or choice of the end of life. The character must be as the end is for which a moral agent lives. The inquiry, then, must be fundamental, What is the right end of life? A mistake here is fatal to virtue.

The Rev. CHARLES G. FINNEY’S SYSTEMATIC THEOLOGY (1851)

I. IN WHAT SENSE OBEDIENCE TO MORAL LAW CANNOT BE PARTIAL. 

In discussing this question I must– 

1. Show what constitutes obedience to moral law. 

2. That obedience cannot be partial in the sense that the subject ever does, or can, partly obey, and partly disobey, at the same time. 

1. What constitutes obedience to moral law. 

We have seen in former lectures, that disinterested benevolence is all that the spirit of moral law requires, that is, that the love which it requires to God and our neighbour is good-willing, willing the highest good, or well-being of God, and of being in general, as an end, or for its own sake; that this willing is a consecration of all the powers, so far as they are under the control of the will, to this end. Entire consecration to this end must of course constitute obedience to the moral law. The next question is: Can consecration to this end be real, and yet partial in the sense of not being entire, for the time being? This conducts us to the second proposition, namely,– 

2. That obedience cannot be partial in the sense that the subject ever does, or can, partly obey, and partly disobey, at the same time. 

That is, consecration, to be real, must be, for the time being, entire and universal. It will be seen, that this discussion respects the simplicity of moral action, that is whether the choices of the will that have any degree of conformity to moral law, are always, and necessarily, wholly conformed, or wholly disconformed to it. There are two distinct branches to this inquiry. 

(1.) The one is, Can the will at the same time make opposite choices? Can it choose the highest good of being as an ultimate end, and at the same time choose any other ultimate end, or make any choices whatever, inconsistent with this ultimate choice? 

(2.) The second branch of this inquiry respects the strength or intensity of the choice. Suppose but one ultimate choice can exist at the same time, may not that choice be less efficient and intense than it ought to be? 

Let us take up these two inquires in their order. 

(1.) Can the will at the same time choose opposite and conflicting ultimate ends? While one ultimate end is chosen can the will choose anything inconsistent with this end? In reply to the first branch of this inquiry I observe,– 

(a.) That the choice of an ultimate end is, and must be, the supreme preference of the mind. Sin is the supreme preference of self-gratification. Holiness is the supreme preference of the good of being. Can then two supreme preferences co-exist in the same mind? It is plainly impossible to make opposite choices at the same time, that is, to choose opposite and conflicting ultimate ends. 

(b.) All intelligent choice, as has been formerly shown, must respect ends or means. Choice is synonymous with intention. If there is a choice or intention, of necessity something must be chosen or intended. This something must be chosen for its own sake, or as an end, or for the sake of something else to which it sustains the relation of a means. To deny this were to deny that the choice is intelligent. But we are speaking of no other than intelligent choice, or the choice of a moral agent. 

(c.) This conducts us to the inevitable conclusion–that no choice whatever can be made inconsistent with the present choice of an ultimate end. The mind cannot choose one ultimate end, and choose at the same time another ultimate end. But if this cannot be, it is plain that it cannot choose one ultimate end, and at the same time, while in the exercise of that choice, choose the means to secure some other ultimate end, which other end is not chosen. But if all choice must necessarily respect ends or means, and if the mind can choose but one ultimate end at a time, it follows that, while in the exercise of one choice, or while in the choice of one ultimate end, the mind cannot choose, for the time being, anything inconsistent with that choice. The mind, in the choice of an ultimate end, is shut up to the necessity of willing the means to accomplish that end; and before it can possibly will means to secure any other ultimate end, it must change its choice of an end. If, for example, the soul choose the highest will-being of God and the universe as an ultimate end, it cannot while it continues to choose that end, use or choose the means to effect any other end. It cannot, while this choice continues, choose self-gratification, or anything else, as an ultimate end, nor can it put forth any volition whatever known to be inconsistent with this end. Nay, it can put forth no intelligent volition whatever that is not designed to secure this end. The only possible choice inconsistent with this end is the choice of another ultimate end. When this is done, other means can be used or chosen, and not before. This, then, is plain, to wit, that obedience to moral law cannot be partial, in the sense either that the mind can choose two opposite ultimate ends at the same time, or that it can choose one ultimate end, and at the same time use or choose means to secure any other ultimate end. It “cannot serve God and mammon.” It cannot will the good of being as an ultimate end, and at the same time will self-gratification as an ultimate end. In other words, it cannot be selfish and benevolent at the same time. It cannot choose as an ultimate end the highest good of being, and at the same time choose to gratify self as an ultimate end. Until self-gratification is chosen as an end, the mind cannot will the means of self-gratification. This disposes of the first branch of the inquiry. 

(2.) The second branch of the inquiry respects the strength or intensity of the choice. 

May not the choice of an end be real and yet have less than the required strength or intensity? The inquiry resolves itself into this: can the mind honestly intend or choose an ultimate end, and yet not choose it with all the strength or intensity which is required, or with which it ought to choose it? Now what degree of strength is demanded? By what criterion is this question to be settled? It cannot be that the degree of intensity required is equal to the real value of the end chosen, for this is infinite. The value of the highest well-being of God and the universe is infinite. But a finite being cannot be under obligation to exert infinite strength. The law requires him only to exert his own strength. But does he, or may he, not choose the right end, but with less than all his strength? All his strength lies in his will; the question, therefore, is, may he not will it honestly, and yet at the same time withhold a part of the strength of his will? No one can presume that the choice can be acceptable unless it be honest. Can it be honest, and yet less intense and energetic than it ought to be? 

We have seen in a former lecture that the perception of an end is a condition of moral obligation to choose that end. I now remark that, as light in respect to the end is the condition of the obligation, so the degree of obligation cannot exceed the degree of light. That is, the mind must apprehend the valuable as a condition of the obligation to will it. The degree of the obligation must be just equal to the mind’s honest estimate of the value of the end. The degree of the obligation must vary as the light varies. This is the doctrine of the Bible and of reason. If this is so, it follows that the mind is honest when, and only when, it devotes its strength to the end in view, with an intensity just proportioned to its present light, or estimate of the value of that end. 

We have seen that the mind cannot will anything inconsistent with a present ultimate choice. If, therefore, the end is not chosen with an energy and intensity equal to the present light, it cannot be because a part of the strength is employed in some other choice. If all the strength is not given to this object, it must be because some part of it is voluntarily withholden. That is, I choose the end, but not with all my strength, or I choose the end, but choose not to choose it with all my strength. Is this an honest choice, provided the end appears to me to be worthy of all my strength? Certainly it is not honest. 

But again: it is absurd to affirm that I choose an ultimate end, and yet do not consecrate to it all my strength. The choice of any ultimate end implies that that is the thing, and the only thing, for which we live and act; that we aim at, and live for nothing else, for the time being. Now what is intended by the assertion, that I may honestly choose an ultimate end, and yet with less strength or intensity than I ought? Is it intended that I can honestly choose an ultimate end, and yet not at every moment keep my will upon the strain, and will at every moment with the utmost possible intensity? If this be the meaning, I grant that it may be so. But I at the same time contend, that the law of God does not require that the will, or any other faculty, should be at every moment upon the strain, and the whole strength exerted at every moment. If it does, it is manifest that even Christ did not obey it. I insist that the moral law requires nothing more than honesty of intention, and assumes that honesty of intention will and must secure just that degree of intensity which, from time to time, the mind in its best judgment sees to be demanded. The Bible everywhere assumes that sincerity or honesty of intention is moral perfection; that it is obedience to the law. The terms sincerity and perfection in scripture language are synonymous. Uprightness, sincerity, holiness, honesty, perfection, are words of the same meaning in Bible language. 

2. Again: it seems to be intuitively certain that if the mind chooses its ultimate end, it must in the very act of choice consecrate all its time, and strength, and being, to that end; and at every moment, while the choice remains, choose and act with an intensity in precise conformity with its ability and the best light it has. The intensity of the choice, and the strenuousness of its efforts to secure the end chosen, must, if the intention be sincere, correspond with the view which the soul has of the importance of the end chosen. It does not seem possible that the choice or intention should be real and honest unless this is so. To will at every moment with the utmost strength and intensity is not only impossible, but, were it possible to do so, could not be in accordance with the soul’s convictions of duty. The irresistible judgment of the mind is, that the intensity of its action should not exceed the bound of endurance; that the energies of both soul and body should be so husbanded, as to be able to accomplish the most good upon the whole, and not in a given moment. 

But to return to the question:–does the law of God require simply uprightness of intention? or does it require not only uprightness, but also a certain degree of intensity in the intention? Is it satisfied with simple sincerity or uprightness of intention, or does it require that the highest possible intensity of choice shall exist at every moment? When it requires that we should love God with all the heart, with all the soul, with all the mind, and with all the strength, does it mean that all our heart, soul, mind, and strength, shall be consecrated to this end, and be used up, from moment to moment, and from hour to hour, according to the best judgment which the mind can form of the necessity and expediency of strenuousness of effort? or does it mean that all the faculties of soul and body shall be at every moment on the strain to the uttermost? Does it mean that the whole being is to be consecrated to, and used up for, God with the best economy of which the soul is capable? or does it require that the whole being be not only consecrated to God, but be used up without any regard to economy, and without the soul’s exercising any judgment or discretion in the case? In other words, is the law of God the law of reason, or of folly? Is it intelligible and just in its demands? or is it perfectly unintelligible and unjust? Is it a law suited to the nature, relations, and circumstances, of moral agents? or has it no regard to them? If it has no regard to either, is it, can it be, moral law, and impose moral obligation? It seems to me that the law of God requires that all our power, and strength, and being, be honestly and continually consecrated to God, and held, not in a state of the utmost tension, but that the strength shall be expended and employed in exact accordance with the mind’s honest judgment of what is at every moment the best economy for God. If this be not the meaning and the spirit of the law, it cannot be law, for it could be neither intelligible nor just. Nothing else can be a law of nature. What! does, or can the command, “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God, with all thy heart, with all thy soul, with all thy might, and with all thy strength,” require that every particle of my strength, and every faculty of my being, shall be in a state of the utmost possible tension? How long could my strength hold out, or my being last, under such a pressure as this? What reason, or justice, or utility, or equity, or wisdom, could there be in such a commandment as this? Would this be suited to my nature and relations? That the law does not require the constant and most intense action of the will, I argue for the following reasons:– 

1. No creature in heaven or earth could possibly know whether he ever for a single moment obeyed it. How could he know that no more tension could possibly be endured? 

2. Such a requirement would be unreasonable, inasmuch as such a state of mind would be unendurable. 

3. Such a state of constant tension and strain of the faculties could be of no possible use. 

4. It would be uneconomical. More good could be effected by a husbanding of the strength. 

5. Christ certainly obeyed the moral law, and yet nothing is more evident than that his faculties were not always on the strain. 

6. Every one knows that the intensity of the will’s action depends and must depend upon the clearness with which the value of the object chosen is perceived. It is perfectly absurd to suppose that the will should, or possibly can act at all times with the same degree of intensity. As the mind’s apprehensions of truth vary, the intensity of the will’s action must vary, or it does not act rationally, and consequently not virtuously. The intensity of the actions of the will, ought to vary as light varies, and if it does not, the mind is not honest. If honest, it must vary as light and ability vary. 

That an intention cannot be right and honest in kind and deficient in the degree of intensity, I argue– 

1. From the fact that it is absurd to talk of an intention right in kind, while it is deficient in intensity. What does rightness in kind mean? Does it mean simply that the intention terminates on the proper object? But is this the right kind of intention, when only the proper object is chosen, while there is a voluntary withholding of the required energy of choice? Is this, can this, be an honest intention? If so, what is meant by an honest intention? Is it honest, can it be honest, voluntarily to withhold from God and the universe what we perceive to be their due? and what we are conscious we might render? It is a contradiction to call this honest. In what sense then may, or can, an intention be acceptable in kind, while deficient in degree? Certainly in no sense, unless known and voluntary dishonesty can be acceptable. But again let me ask, what is intended by an intention being deficient in degree of intensity? If this deficiency be a sinful deficiency, it must be a known deficiency. That is, the subject of it must know at the time that his intention is in point of intensity less than it ought to be, or that he wills with less energy than he ought; or, in other words, that the energy of the choice does not equal, or is not agreeable to, his own estimate of the value of the end chosen. But this implies an absurdity. Suppose I choose an end, that is, I choose a thing solely on account of its own intrinsic value. It is for its value that I choose it. I choose it for its value, but not according to its value. My perception of its value led me to choose it; and yet, while I choose it for that reason, I voluntarily withhold that degree of intensity which I know is demanded by my own estimate of the value of the thing which I choose! This is a manifest absurdity and contradiction. If I choose a thing for its value, this implies that I choose it according to my estimate of its value. Happiness, for example, is a good in itself. Now, suppose I will its existence impartially, that is, solely on account of its intrinsic value; now, does not this imply that every degree of happiness must be willed according to its real or relative value? Can I will it impartially, for its own sake, for and only for its intrinsic value, and yet not prefer a greater to a less amount of happiness? This is impossible. Willing it on account of its intrinsic value implies willing it according to my estimate of its intrinsic value. So, it must be that an intention cannot be sincere, honest, and acceptable in kind, while it is sinfully deficient in degree. I will introduce here with some alteration and addition what I have elsewhere stated upon this subject. I quote from my letter in the Oberlin Evangelist upon the following proposition:– 

Moral character is always wholly right or wholly wrong, and never partly right and partly wrong at the same time. 

“I must again remind you of that in which moral character consists, and occupy a few moments in repeating what I have already said, that moral character belongs solely to the ultimate intention of the mind, or to choice, as distinguished from volition. The law of God requires supreme disinterested benevolence; and all holiness, in the last analysis, resolves itself into some modification of supreme, disinterested benevolence, or good-willing. Benevolence, or good-willing, is synonymous with good-intending, or intending good. Now, the true spirit of the requirement of the moral law is this–that every moral being shall choose every interest according to its value as perceived by the mind. This is holiness. It is exercising supreme love or good-will to God, and equal love or good-will to our neighbour.” 

This is a choice or intention, as distinguished from a volition. It is also an ultimate intention, as distinguished from a proximate intention. 

Choice is the selection of an ultimate end. Volition is produced by choice, and is the effort of the will to accomplish the end chosen. An ultimate object of choice, is that which is intended or chosen for its own sake, or as an ultimate end, and not something chosen or intended as a means to accomplish some other and higher end. A proximate end is that which is chosen or intended, not as an ultimate end, but as a means to an ultimate end. If I choose an end, I, of course, put forth those volitions which are requisite to the accomplishment of that end. Holiness, or virtue, consists in the supreme ultimate intention, choice, or willing of the highest well-being of God and the highest good of his kingdom. Nothing else than this is virtue or holiness. 

As holiness consists in ultimate intention, so does sin. And as holiness consists in choosing the highest well-being of God and the good of the universe, for its own sake, or as the supreme ultimate end of pursuit; so sin consists in willing, with a supreme choice or intention, self-gratification and self-interest. Preferring a less to a greater good, because it is our own, is selfishness. All selfishness consists in a supreme ultimate intention. By an ultimate intention, as I have said, is intended that which is chosen for its own sake as an end, and not as a means to some other end. Whenever a moral being prefers or chooses his own gratification, or his own interest, in preference to a higher good, because it is his own, he chooses it as an end, for its own sake, and as an ultimate end; not designing it as a means of promoting any other and higher end, nor because it is a part of universal good. Every sin, then, consists in an act of will. It consists in preferring self-gratification, or self-interest, to the authority of God, the glory of God, and the good of the universe. It is, therefore, and must be, a supreme ultimate choice, or intention. 

Sin and holiness, then, both consist in supreme, ultimate, and opposite choices, or intentions, and cannot, by any possibility, co-exist. 

But for the sake of entering more at large into the discussion of this question, I will– 

1. Examine a little in detail the philosophy of the question, and– 

2. Bring the philosophy into the light of the Bible. 

And in discussing the philosophy of the question, I would observe, that five suppositions may be made, and so far as I can see, only five, in respect to this subject. 

1. It may be supposed, that selfishness and benevolence can co-exist in the same mind. 

2. It may be supposed, that the same act or choice may have a complex character, on account of complexity in the motives which induce it. 

3. It may be supposed, that an act or choice may be right, or holy in kind, but deficient in intensity or degree. Or– 

4. That the will, or heart, may be right, while the affections, or emotions, are wrong. Or– 

5. That there may be a ruling, latent, actually existing, holy preference, or intention, co-existing with opposing volitions. 

Now, unless one of these suppositions is true, it must follow that moral character is either wholly right or wholly wrong, and never partly right and partly wrong at the same time. 

And now to the examination. 

1. It may be supposed, that selfishness and benevolence can co-exist in the same mind. 

It has been shown that selfishness and benevolence are supreme, ultimate, and opposite choices, or intentions. They cannot, therefore, by any possibility, co-exist in the same mind. 

2. The next supposition is, that the same act or choice may have a complex character, on account of complexity in the motives. On this let me say:– 

(1.) Motives are objective or subjective. An objective motive is that thing external to the mind that induces choice or intention. Subjective motive is the intention itself. 

(2.) Character, therefore, does not belong to the objective motive, or to that thing which the mind chooses; but moral character is confined to the subjective motive, which is synonymous with choice or intention. Thus we say a man is to be judged by his motives, meaning that his character is as his intention is. Multitudes of objective motives or considerations, may have concurred directly or indirectly in their influence, to induce choice or intention; but the intention or subjective motive is always necessarily simple and indivisible. In other words, moral character consists in the choice of an ultimate end, and this end is to be chosen for its own sake, else it is not an ultimate end. If the end chosen be the highest well-being of God and the good of the universe–if it be the willing or intending to promote and treat every interest in the universe, according to its perceived relative value, it is a right, a holy motive, or intention. If it be anything else, it is sinful. Now, whatever complexity there may have been in the considerations that led the way to this choice or intention, it is self-evident that the intention must be one, simple, and indivisible. 

(3.) Whatever complexity there might have been in those considerations that prepared the way to the settling down upon this intention, the mind in a virtuous choice has, and can have, but one ultimate reason for its choice, and that is the intrinsic value of the thing chosen. The highest well-being of God, the good of the universe, and every good according to its perceived relative value, must be chosen for one, and only one reason, and that is the intrinsic value of the good which is chosen for its own sake. If chosen for any other reason, the choice is not virtuous. It is absurd to say, that a thing is good and valuable in itself, but may be rightly chosen, not for that but for some other reason–that God’s highest well-being and the happiness of the universe are an infinite good in themselves, but are not to be chosen for that reason, and on their own account, but for some other reason. Holiness, then, must always consist in singleness of eye or intention. It must consist in the supreme disinterested choice, willing, or intending the good of God and of the universe, for its own sake. In this intention there cannot be any complexity. If there were, it would not be holy, but sinful. It is, therefore, sheer nonsense to say, that one and the same choice may have a complex character, on account of complexity of motive. For that motive in which moral character consists, is the supreme ultimate intention, or choice. This choice, or intention, must consist in the choice of a thing as an end, and for its own sake. The supposition, then, that the same choice or intention may have a complex character, on account of complexity in the motives, is wholly inadmissible. 

If it be still urged, that the intention or subjective motive may be complex–that several things may be included in the intention, and be aimed at by the mind–and that it may, therefore, be partly holy and partly sinful–I reply:– 

(4.) If by this it be meant that several things may be aimed at or intended by the mind at the same time, I inquire what things?–It is true, that the supreme, disinterested choice of the highest good of being, may include the intention to use all the necessary means. It may also include the intention to promote every interest in the universe, according to its perceived relative value. These are all properly included in one intention; but this implies no such complexity in the subjective motive, as to include both sin and holiness. 

(5.) If by complexity of intention is meant, that it may be partly disinterestedly benevolent, and partly selfish, which it must be to be partly holy and partly sinful, I reply, that this supposition is absurd. It has been shown that selfishness and benevolence consist in supreme, ultimate, and opposite choices or intentions. To suppose, then, that an intention can be both holy and sinful, is to suppose that it may include two supreme, opposite, and ultimate choices or intentions, at the same time; in other words, that I may supremely and disinterestedly intend to regard and promote every interest in the universe, according to its perceived relative value, for its own sake; and at the same time, may supremely regard my own self-interest and self-gratification, and in some things supremely intend to promote my selfish interests, in opposition to the interests of the universe and the commands of God. But this is naturally impossible. An ultimate intention, then, may be complex in the sense, that it may include the design to promote every perceived interest, according to its relative value; but it cannot, by any possibility, be complex in the sense that it includes selfishness and benevolence, or holiness and sin. 

3. The third supposition is, that holiness may be right, or pure in kind, but deficient in degree. On this, I remark:– 

(1.) We have seen that moral character consists in the ultimate intention. 

(2.) The supposition, therefore, must be, that the intention may be right, or pure in kind, but deficient in the degree of its strength. 

(3.) Our intention is to be tried by the law of God, both in respect to its kind and degree. 

(4.) The law of God requires us to will, or intend the promotion of every interest in the universe, according to its perceived relative value, for its own sake; in other words, that all our powers shall be supremely and disinterestedly devoted to the glory of God, and the good of the universe. 

(5.) This cannot mean, that any faculty shall at every moment be kept upon the strain, or in a state of utmost tension, for this would be inconsistent with natural ability. It would be to require a natural impossibility, and therefore be unjust. 

(6.) It cannot mean that at all times, and on all subjects, the same degree of exertion shall be made; for the best possible discharge of duty does not always require the same degree or intensity of mental or corporeal exertion. 

(7.) The law cannot, justly or possibly, require more, than that the whole being shall be consecrated to God–that we shall fully and honestly will or intend the promotion of every interest, according to its perceived relative value, and according to the extent of our ability. 

(8.) Now the strength or intensity of the intention must, and ought, of necessity, to depend upon the degree of our knowledge or light in regard to any object of choice. If our obligation is not to be graduated by the light we possess, then it would follow, that we may be under obligation to exceed our natural ability, which cannot be. 

(9.) The importance which we attach to objects of choice, and consequently the degree of ardour or intenseness of the intention, must depend upon the clearness or obscurity of our views, of the real or relative value of the objects of choice. 

(10.) Our obligation cannot be measured by the views which God has of the importance of those objects of choice. It is a well-settled and generally-admitted truth, that increased light increases responsibility, or moral obligation. No creature is bound to will any thing with the intenseness or degree of strength with which God wills it, for the plain reason, that no creature sees its importance or real value, as He does. If our obligation were to be graduated by God’s knowledge of the real value of objects, we could never obey the moral law, either in this world or the world to come, nor could any being but God ever, by any possibility, meet its demands. 

(11.) Nor can our obligation be measured by the views or knowledge which angels may have of the intrinsic or relative value of the glory of God, the worth of souls, and the good of the universe. 

(12.) Nor can the obligation of a heathen be measured by the knowledge and light of a Christian. 

(13.) Nor the obligation of a child by the knowledge of a man. 

(14.) The fact is, that the obligation of every moral being must be graduated by his knowledge. 

(15.) If, therefore, his intention be equal in its intensity to his views or knowledge of the real or relative value of different objects, it is right. It is up to the full measure of his obligation; and if his own honest judgment is not to be made the measure of his obligation, then his obligation can exceed what he is able to know; which contradicts the true nature of moral law, and is, therefore, false. 

(16.) If conscious honesty of intention, both as it respects the kind and degree of intention, according to the degree of light possessed, be not entire obedience to moral law, then there is no being in heaven or earth, who can know himself to be entirely obedient; for all that any being can possibly know upon this subject is, that he honestly wills or intends, in accordance with the dictates of his reason, or the judgment which he has of the real or relative value of the object chosen. 

(17.) If something more than this can be required, then a law can be binding farther than it is prescribed, or so published that it may be known, which is contradictory to natural justice, and absurd. 

(18.) No moral being can possibly blame or charge himself with any default, when he is conscious of honestly intending, willing, or choosing, and acting, according to the best light he has; for in this case he obeys the law, as he understands it, and, of course, cannot conceive himself to be condemned by the law. 

(19.) Good-willing, or intending is, in respect to God, to be at all times supreme, and in respect to other beings, it is to be in proportion to the relative value of their happiness, as perceived by the mind. This is always to be the intention. The volitions, or efforts of the will to promote these objects, may vary, and ought to vary indefinitely in their intensity, in proportion to the particular duty to which, for the time being, we are called. 

(20.) But further, we have seen that virtue consists in willing every good according to its perceived relative value, and that nothing short of this is virtue. But this is perfect virtue for the time being. In other words, virtue and moral perfection, in respect to a given act, or state of the will, are synonymous terms. Virtue is holiness. Holiness is uprightness. Uprightness is that which is just what, under the circumstances, it should be; and nothing else is virtue, holiness, or uprightness. Virtue, holiness, uprightness, moral perfection–when we apply these terms to any given state of the will–are synonymous. To talk, therefore, of a virtue, holiness, uprightness, justice–right in kind, but deficient in degree–is to talk sheer nonsense. It is the same absurdity as to talk of sinful holiness, an unjust justice, a wrong rightness, an impure purity, an imperfect perfection, a disobedient obedience. 

(21.) The fact is, virtue, holiness, uprightness, &c., signify a definite thing, and never anything else than conformity to the law of God. That which is not entirely conformed to the law of God is not holiness. This must be true in philosophy, and the Bible affirms the same thing. “Whosoever shall keep the whole law, and yet offend in one point, he is guilty of all.” The spirit of this text as clearly and as fully assumes and affirms the doctrine under consideration, as if it had been uttered with that design alone. 

(22.) God has no right to call that holy which is defective in degree. 

(23.) Unless every perceived interest is, for the time being, willed or intended according to its relative value, there is no virtue. Where this intention exists, there can be no sin. 

4. The next supposition is, that the will, or heart, may be right, while the affections or emotions are wrong. Upon this I remark: 

(1.) That this supposition overlooks the very thing in which moral character consists. It has been shown that moral character consists in the supreme ultimate intention of the mind, and that this supreme, disinterested benevolence, good-willing, or intention, is the whole of virtue. Now this intention originates volitions. It directs the attention of the mind, and, therefore, produces thoughts, emotions, or affections. It also, through volition, produces bodily action. But moral character does not lie in outward actions, the movements of the arm, nor in the volition that moves the muscles; for that volition terminates upon the action itself. I will to move my arm, and my arm must move by a law of necessity. Moral character belongs solely to the intention that produced the volition, that moved the muscles, to the performance of the outward act. So intention produces the volition that directs the attention of the mind to a given object. Attention, by a natural necessity, produces thought, affection, or emotion. Now thought, affection, or emotion, are all connected with volition, by a natural necessity; that is–if the attention is directed to an object, corresponding thoughts and emotions must exist, as a matter of course. Moral character no more lies in emotion, than in outward action. It does not lie in thought, or attention. It does not lie in the specific volition that directed the attention; but in that intention, or design of the mind, that produced the volition, which directed the attention, which, again, produced the thought, which, again, produced the emotion. Now the supposition, that the intention may be right, while the emotions or feelings of the mind may be wrong, is the same as to say, that outward action may be wrong, while the intention is right. The fact is, that moral character is, and must be, as the intention is. If any feeling or outward action is inconsistent with the existing ultimate intention, it must be so in spite of the agent. But if any outward action or state of feeling exists, in opposition to the intention or choice of the mind, it cannot, by any possibility, have moral character. Whatever is beyond the control of a moral agent, he cannot be responsible for. Whatever he cannot control by intention, he cannot control at all. Everything for which he can possibly be responsible, resolves itself into his intentions. His whole character, therefore, is, and must be, as his intention is. If, therefore, temptations, from whatever quarter they may come, produce emotions within him inconsistent with his intention, and which he cannot control, he cannot be responsible for them. 

(2.) As a matter of fact, although emotions, contrary to his intentions, may, by circumstances beyond his control, be brought to exist in his mind; yet, by willing to divert the attention of the mind from the objects that produce them, they can ordinarily be banished from the mind. If this is done as soon as in the nature of the case it can be, there is no sin. If it is not done as soon as in the nature of the case it can be, then it is absolutely certain that the intention is not what it ought to be. The intention is to devote the whole being to the service of God and the good of the universe, and of course to avoid every thought, affection, and emotion, inconsistent with this. While this intention exists, it is certain that if any object be thrust upon the attention which excites thoughts and emotions inconsistent with our supreme ultimate intention, the attention of the mind will be instantly diverted from those objects, and the hated emotion hushed, if this is possible. For, while the intention exists, corresponding volitions must exist. There cannot, therefore, be a right state of heart or intention, while the emotions, or affections, of the mind are sinful. For emotions are in themselves in no case sinful, and when they exist against the will, through the force of temptation, the soul is not responsible for their existence. And, as I said, the supposition overlooks that in which moral character consists, and makes it to consist in that over which the law does not properly legislate; for love, or benevolence, is the fulfilling of the law. 

But here it may be said, that the law not only requires benevolence, or good-willing, but requires a certain kind of emotions, just as it requires the performance of certain outward actions, and that therefore there may be a right intention where there is a deficiency, either in kind or degree, of right emotion: To this I answer:– 

Outward actions are required of men, only because they are connected with intention, by a natural necessity. And no outward action is ever required of us, unless it can be produced by intending and aiming to do it. If the effect does not follow our honest endeavours, because of any antagonistic influence, opposed to our exertions, which we cannot overcome, we have, by our intention, complied with the spirit of the law, and are not to blame that the outward effect does not take place. Just so with emotions. All we have power to do, is, to direct the attention of the mind to those objects calculated to secure a given state of emotion. If, from any exhaustion of the sensibility, or from any other cause beyond our control, the emotions do not arise which the consideration of that subject is calculated to produce, we are no more responsible for the absence or weakness of the emotion, than we should be for the want of power or weakness of motion in our muscles, when we willed to move them, provided that weakness was involuntary and beyond our control. The fact is, we cannot be blameworthy for not feeling or doing that which we cannot do or feel by intending it. If the intention then is what it ought to be for the time being, nothing can be morally wrong. 

5. The last supposition is, that a latent preference, or right intention, may co-exist with opposing or sinful volitions. Upon this I remark:– 

That I have formerly supposed that this could be true, but am now convinced that it cannot be true; for the following reasons: 

(1.) Observe, the supposition is, that the intention or ruling preference may be right–may really exist as an active and virtuous state of mind, while, at the same time, volition may exist inconsistent with it. 

(2.) Now what is a right intention? I answer: Nothing short of this–willing, choosing, or intending the highest good of God and of the universe, and to promote this at every moment, to the extent of our ability. In other words–right intention is supreme, disinterested benevolence. Now what are the elements which enter into this right intention? 

(a.) The choice or willing of every interest according to its perceived intrinsic value. 

(b.) To devote our entire being, now and for ever, to this end. This is right intention. Now the question is, can this intention co-exist with a volition inconsistent with it? Volition implies the choice of something, for some reason. If it be the choice of whatever can promote this supremely benevolent end, and for that reason, the volition is consistent with the intention; but if it be the choice of something perceived to be inconsistent with this end, and for a selfish reason, then the volition is inconsistent with the supposed intention. But the question is, do the volition and intention co-exist? According to the supposition, the will chooses, or wills, something, for a selfish reason, or something perceived to be inconsistent with supreme, disinterested benevolence. Now it is plainly impossible, that this choice can take place while the opposite intention exists. For this selfish volition is, according to the supposition, sinful or selfish; that is, something is chosen for its own sake, which is inconsistent with disinterested benevolence. But here the intention is ultimate. It terminates upon the object chosen for its own sake. To suppose, then, that benevolence still remains in exercise, and that a volition co-exists with it that is sinful, involves the absurdity of supposing, that selfishness and benevolence can co-exist in the same mind, or that the will can choose, or will, with a supreme preference or choice, two opposites at the same time. This is plainly impossible. Suppose I intend to go to the city of New York as soon as I possibly can. Now, if, on my way, I will to loiter needlessly a moment, I necessarily relinquish one indispensable element of my intention. In willing to loiter, or turn aside to some other object for a day, or an hour, I must, of necessity, relinquish the intention of going as soon as I possibly can. I may not design finally to relinquish my journey, but I must of necessity relinquish the intention of going as soon as I can. Now, virtue consists in intending to do all the good I possibly can, or in willing the glory of God and the good of the universe, and intending to promote them to the extent of my ability. Nothing short of this is virtue. If at any time, I will something perceived to be inconsistent with this intention, I must, for the time being, relinquish the intention, as it must indispensably exist in my mind, in order to be virtue. I may not come to the resolution, that I will never serve God any more, but I must of necessity relinquish, for the time being, the intention of doing my utmost to glorify God, if at any time I put forth a selfish volition. For a selfish volition implies a selfish intention. I cannot put forth a volition intended to secure an end until I have chosen the end. Therefore, a holy intention cannot co-exist with a selfish volition. 

It must be, therefore, that in every sinful choice, the will of a holy being must necessarily drop the exercise of supreme, benevolent intention, and pass into an opposite state of choice; that is, the agent must cease, for the time being, to exercise benevolence, and make a selfish choice. For, be it understood, that volition is the choice of a means to an end; and of course a selfish volition implies a selfish choice of an end. 

Having briefly examined the several suppositions that can be made in regard to the mixed character of actions, I will now answer a few objections; after which, I will bring this philosophy, as briefly as possible, into the light of the Bible. 

Objection. Does a Christian cease to be a Christian, whenever he commits a sin? I answer: 

1. Whenever he sins, he must, for the time being, cease to be holy. This is self-evident. 

2. Whenever he sins, he must be condemned. He must incur the penalty of the law of God. If he does not, it must be because the law of God is abrogated. But if the law of God be abrogated, he has no rule of duty; consequently, can neither be holy nor sinful. If it be said that the precept is still binding upon him, but that, with respect to the Christian, the penalty is for ever set aside, or abrogated, I reply–that to abrogate the penalty is to repeal the precept; for a precept without penalty is no law. It is only counsel or advice. The Christian, therefore, is justified no longer than he obeys, and must be condemned when he disobeys; or Antinomianism is true. 

3. When the Christian sins, he must repent, and “do his first works,” or he will perish. 

4. Until he repents he cannot be forgiven. In these respects, then, the sinning Christian and the unconverted sinner are upon precisely the same ground. 

5. In two important respects the sinning Christian differs widely from the unconverted sinner: 

(1.) In his relations to God. A Christian is a child of God. A sinning Christian is a disobedient child of God. An unconverted sinner is a child of the devil. A Christian sustains a covenant relation to God; such a covenant relation as to secure to him that discipline which tends to reclaim and bring him back, if he wanders away from God. “If his children forsake my law, and walk not in my judgments; if they break my statutes and keep not my commandments; then will I visit their transgression with the rod, and their iniquity with stripes. Nevertheless my loving-kindness will I not utterly take from him nor suffer my faithfulness to fail. My covenant will I not break, nor alter the thing that is gone out of my lips.” Psa_89:30-34. 

(2.) The sinning Christian differs from the unconverted man, in the state of his sensibility. In whatever way it takes place, every Christian knows that the state of his sensibility in respect to the things of God, has undergone a great change. Now it is true, that moral character does not lie in the sensibility, nor in the will’s obeying the sensibility. Nevertheless our consciousness teaches us, that our feelings have great power in promoting wrong choice on the one hand, and in removing obstacles to right choice on the other. In every Christian’s mind there is, therefore, a foundation laid for appeals to the sensibilities of the soul, that gives truth a decided advantage over the will. And multitudes of things in the experience of every Christian, give truth a more decided advantage over his will, through the intelligence, than is the case with unconverted sinners. 

Obj. Can a man be born again, and then be unborn? I answer: 

1. If there were anything impossible in this, then perseverance would be no virtue. 

2. None will maintain, that there is anything naturally impossible in this, except it be those who hold to physical regeneration. 

3. If regeneration consist in a change in the ruling preference of the mind, or in the ultimate intention, as we shall see it does, it is plain, that an individual can be born again, and afterwards cease to be virtuous. 

4. That a Christian is able to apostatize, is evident, from the many warnings addressed to Christians in the Bible. 

5. A Christian may certainly fall into sin and unbelief, and afterwards be renewed, both to repentance and faith. 

Obj. Can there be no such thing as weak faith, weak love, and weak repentance? I answer: 

1. If you mean comparatively weak, I say, yes. But if you mean weak, in such a sense as to be sinful, I say, no. Faith, repentance, love, and every Christian grace, properly so called, does and must consist in an act of will, and resolve itself into some modification of supreme, disinterested benevolence. I shall, in a future lecture, have occasion to show the philosophical nature of faith. Let it suffice here to say, that faith necessarily depends upon the clearness or obscurity of the intellectual apprehensions of truth. Faith, to be real or virtuous, must embrace whatever of truth is apprehended by the intelligence for the time being. 

2. Various causes may operate to divert the intelligence from the objects of faith, or to cause the mind to perceive but few of them, and those in comparative obscurity. 

3. Faith may be weak, and will certainly necessarily be weak in such cases, in proportion to the obscurity of the views. And yet, if the will or heart confides so far as it apprehends the truth, which it must do to be virtuous at all, faith cannot be weak in such a sense as to be sinful; for if a man confides so far as he apprehends or perceives the truth, so far as faith is concerned he is doing his whole duty. 

4. Faith may be weak in the sense, that it often intermits and gives place to unbelief. Faith is confidence, and unbelief is the withholding of confidence. It is the rejection of truth perceived. Faith is the reception of truth perceived. Faith and unbelief, then, are opposite states of choice, and can by no possibility co-exist. 

5. Faith may be weak in respect to its objects. The disciples of our Lord Jesus Christ knew so little of him, were so filled with ignorance and the prejudices of education, as to have very weak faith in respect to the Messiahship, power, and divinity of their Master. He speaks of them as having but little confidence, and yet it does not appear that they did not implicitly trust him, so far as they understood him. And although through ignorance, their faith was weak, yet there is no evidence, that when they had any faith at all they did not confide in whatever of truth they apprehended. 

Obj. But did not the disciples pray, “Increase our faith?” I answer,– 

Yes. And by this they must have intended to pray for instruction; for what else could they mean? Unless a man means this, when he prays for faith, he does not know what he prays for. Christ produces faith by enlightening the mind. When we pray for faith we pray for light. And faith, to be real faith at all, must be equal to the light we have. If apprehended truth be not implicitly received and confided in, there is no faith, but unbelief. If it be, faith is what it ought to be, wholly unmixed with sin. 

Obj. But did not one say to our Lord, “Lord, I believe, help thou my unbelief;” thus implying, that he was in the exercise both of faith and unbelief at the same time? I answer, yes, but– 

1. This was not inspiration. 

2. It is not certain that he had any faith at all. 

3. If he had, and prayed understandingly, he meant nothing more than to ask for an increase of faith, or for such a degree of light as to remove his doubts in respect to the divine power of Christ. 

Obj. Again, it is objected that this philosophy contradicts Christian experience. To this I reply, 

That it is absurd to appeal from reason and the Bible to empirical consciousness which must be the appeal in this case. Reason and the Bible plainly attest the truth of the theory here advocated. What experience is then to be appealed to, to set their testimony aside? Why, Christian experience, it is replied. But what is Christian experience? How shall we learn what it is? Why surely by appealing to reason and the Bible. But these declare that if a man offend in one point, he does and must for the time being violate the spirit of the whole law. Nothing is or can be more express than is the testimony of both reason and revelation upon this subject. Here, then, we have the unequivocal decision of the only court of competent jurisdiction in the case, and shall we befool ourselves by appealing from this tribunal to the court of empirical consciousness? Of what does that take cognizance? Why, of what actually passes in the mind; that is, of its mental states. These we are conscious of as facts. But we call these states Christian experience. How do we ascertain that they are in accordance with the law and gospel of God? Why only by an appeal to reason and the Bible. Here, then, we are driven back to the court from which we had before appealed, whose judgment is always the same. 

Obj. But it is said, this theory seems to be true in philosophy, that is, the intelligence seems to affirm it, but it is not true in fact. 

Answer: If the intelligence affirms it, it must be true, or reason deceives us. But if the reason deceives in this, it may also in other things. If it fails us here, it fails us on the most important of all questions. If reason gives false testimony, we can never know truth from error upon any moral subject. We certainly can never know what religion is or is not, if the testimony of reason can be set aside. If the reason cannot be safely appealed to, how are we to know what the Bible means? for it is the faculty by which we get at the truth of the oracles of God? 

These are the principal objections to the philosophical view I have taken of the simplicity of moral action, that occur to my mind. I will now briefly advert to the consistency of this philosophy with the scriptures. 

1. The Bible every where seems to assume the simplicity of moral action. Christ expressly informed his disciples, that they could not serve God and mammon. Now by this he did not mean, that a man could not serve God at one time and mammon at another; but that he could not serve both at the same time. The philosophy that makes it possible for persons to be partly holy and partly sinful at the same time, does make it possible to serve God and mammon at the same time, and thus flatly contradicts the assertion of our Saviour. 

2. James has expressly settled this philosophy, by saying, that “Whosoever shall keep the whole law, and yet offend in one point, he is guilty of all.” Here he must mean to assert, that one sin involves a breach of the whole spirit of the law, and is, therefore, inconsistent with any degree of holiness existing with it. Also, “Doth a fountain send forth at the same place sweet water and bitter? Can the fig-tree, my brethren, bear olive-berries? either a vine, figs? so can no fountain both yield salt-water and fresh,” Jam_3:11-12. In this passage he clearly affirms the simplicity of moral action; for by the “the same place” he evidently means, the same time, and what he says is equivalent to saying, that a man cannot be holy and sinful at the same time. 

3. Christ has expressly taught, that nothing is regeneration, or virtue, but entire obedience, or the renunciation of all selfishness. “Except a man forsake all that he hath, he cannot be my disciple.” 

4. The manner in which the precepts and threatenings of the Bible are usually given, show that nothing is regarded as obedience, or virtue, but doing exactly that which God commands. 

5. The common philosophy, that maintains the co-existence of both sin and holiness in the mind, at the same time, is virtually Antinomianism. It is a rejection of the law of God as the standard of duty. It maintains, that something is holiness which is less than supreme disinterested benevolence, or the devotion, for the time, of the whole being to God. Now any philosophy that makes regeneration, or holiness, consist in any thing less than just that measure of obedience which the law of God requires, is Antinomianism. It is a letting down, a rejection of the law of God. 

6. The very idea of sin and holiness co-existing in the same mind, is an absurd philosophy, contrary to scripture and common sense. It is an overlooking of that in which holiness consists. Holiness is obedience to the law of God, and nothing else is. By obedience, I mean entire obedience, or just that which the law requires. Any thing else than that which the law requires is not obedience and is not holiness. To maintain that it is, is to abrogate the law. 

I might go to great lengths in the examination of scripture testimony, but it cannot be necessary, or in these lectures expedient. I must close this lecture, with a few inferences and remarks. 

1. It has been supposed by some, that the simplicity of moral action, has been resorted to as a theory, by the advocates of entire sanctification in this life, as the only consistent method of carrying out their principle. To this I reply:– 

(1.) That this theory is held in common, both by those who hold and those who deny the doctrine of entire sanctification in this life. 

(2.) The truth of the doctrine of entire sanctification does not depend at all upon this philosophical theory for its support; but may be established by Bible testimony, whatever the philosophy of holiness may be. 

2. Growth in grace consists in two things:– 

(1.) In the stability or permanency of holy, ultimate intention. 

(2.) In intensity or strength. As knowledge increases, Christians will naturally grow in grace, in both these respects. 

3. The theory of the mixed character of moral actions, is an eminently dangerous theory, as it leads its advocates to suppose, that in their acts of rebellion there is something holy, or, more strictly, that there is some holiness in them, while they are in the known commission of sin. 

It is dangerous, because it leads its advocates to place the standard of conversion, or regeneration, exceedingly low; to make regeneration, repentance, true love to God, faith, &c., consistent with the known or conscious commission of present sin. This must be a highly dangerous philosophy. The fact is, that regeneration, or holiness, under any form, is quite another thing than it is supposed to be, by those who maintain the philosophy of the mixed character of moral action. 

4. There can scarcely be a more dangerous error than to say, that while we are conscious of present sin, we are or can be in a state acceptable to God. 

5. The false philosophy of many leads them to adopt a phraseology inconsistent with truth; and to speak as if they were guilty of present sin, when in fact they are not, but are in a state of acceptance with God. 

6. It is erroneous to say that Christians sin in their most holy exercises, and it is as injurious and dangerous as it is false. The fact is, holiness is holiness, and it is really nonsense to speak of a holiness that consists with sin. 

7. The tendency of this philosophy is to quiet in their delusions those whose consciences accuse them of present sin, as if this could be true, and they, notwithstanding, in a state of acceptance with God.

The Rev. CHARLES G. FINNEY’S SYSTEMATIC THEOLOGY (1851)

I. IN WHAT SENSE OBEDIENCE TO MORAL LAW CAN BE PARTIAL. 

II. THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD ACCEPTS NOTHING AS VIRTUE BUT OBEDIENCE TO MORAL LAW. 

I. IN WHAT SENSE OBEDIENCE TO MORAL LAW CAN BE PARTIAL.

In discussing this subject I must– 

1. Remind you of the sense in which it has been shown that obedience cannot be partial; and– 

2. Show the sense in which it can be partial. 

1. In what sense we have seen that obedience to Moral Law cannot be partial. 

(1.) Not in the sense that a moral agent can at the same time be selfish and benevolent. That is, a moral agent cannot choose as an ultimate end the highest well-being of God and of the universe, and, at the same time choose an opposite end, namely his own gratification. In other words, he cannot love God supremely and his neighbour as himself, and at the same time love himself supremely, and prefer his own gratification to the good of God and his neighbour. These two things, we have seen, cannot be. 

(2.) We have seen, that a moral agent cannot honestly choose the well-being of God and the universe, as an ultimate end, that is, for and on account of its intrinsic value, and yet withhold the degree of intensity of choice, which he sees the value of the end demands, and which he is able to render. In other words, he cannot be honest in knowingly and intentionally withholding from God and man their dues. That is, he cannot be honestly dishonest. 

(3.) We have seen, that honesty of intention implies the esteeming and treating of every being and thing, known to the mind according to its nature and relations, and every interest, according to its estimated relative importance, and our ability to promote it. 

(4.) We have seen that neither of the following suppositions can be true. 

(a.) It cannot be true, that an act or choice may have a complex character, on account of complexity in the motives that induce it. 

(b.) It cannot be true, that the will or heart may be right, while the emotions and affections are wrong, in the sense of sinful. 

(c.) It cannot be true, that a ruling, latent, but actually existing, holy preference or intention, may co-exist with opposing volitions. 

These things, we have seen, cannot be; and, therefore, that the following is true, to wit, that obedience to moral law cannot be partial, in the sense that a moral agent can partly obey, and partly disobey, at the same time; that he cannot be both holy and unholy in the same act; that he cannot at the same time serve both God and mammon. This certainly is the doctrine both of natural and revealed theology. This summing up of what was taught in the last lecture, conducts us to the second inquiry, namely,– 

2. In what sense obedience to moral law can be partial. 

And here I would observe, that the only sense in which obedience to moral law can be partial is, that obedience may be intermittent. That is, the subject may sometimes obey, and at other times disobey. He may at one time be selfish, or will his own gratification, because it is his own, and without regard to the well-being of God and his neighbour, and at another time will the highest well-being of God and the universe, as an end, and his own good only in proportion to its relative value. These are opposite choices, or ultimate intentions. The one is holy; the other is sinful. One is obedience, entire obedience, to the law of God; the other is disobedience, entire disobedience, to that law. These, for aught we can see, may succeed each other an indefinite number of times, but co-exist they plainly cannot. 

II. The government of God accepts nothing as virtue but obedience to the law of God. 

But it may be asked, Why state this proposition? Was this truth ever called in question? I answer, that the truth of this proposition, though apparently so self-evident, that to raise the question may reasonably excite astonishment, is generally denied. Indeed, probably nine-tenths of the nominal church deny it. They tenaciously hold sentiments that are entirely contrary to it, and amount to a direct denial of it. They maintain that there is much true virtue in the world, and yet that there is no one who ever for a moment obeys the law of God; that all Christians are virtuous, and that they are truly religious, and yet not one on earth obeys the moral law of God; in short, that God accepts as virtue that which, in every instance, comes short of obedience to his law. And yet it is generally asserted in their articles of faith, that obedience to moral law is the only proper evidence of a change of heart. With this sentiment in their creed, they will brand as a heretic, or as a hypocrite, any one who professes to obey the law; and maintain that men may be, and act pious, and eminently so, who do not obey the law of God. This sentiment, which every one knows to be generally held by those who are styled orthodox Christians, must assume that there is some rule of right, or of duty, besides the moral law; or that virtue, or true religion, does not imply obedience to any law. In this discussion I shall,– 

1. Attempt to show that there can be no rule of right or duty but the moral law; and, 

2. That nothing can be virtue, or true religion, but obedience to this law, and that the government of God acknowledges nothing else as virtue or true religion. 

1. There can be no rule of duty but the moral law. (See Lecture II, Exclusiveness.)

Upon this proposition I remark,– 

(1.) That the moral law, as we have seen, is nothing else than the law of nature, or that rule of action which is founded, not in the will of God, but in the nature and relations of moral agents. It prescribes the course of action which is agreeable or suitable to our nature and relations. It is unalterably right to act in conformity with our nature and relations. To deny this, is palpably absurd and contradictory. But if this is right, nothing else can be right. If this course is obligatory upon us, by virtue of our nature and relations, no other course can possibly be obligatory upon us. To act in conformity with our nature and relations, must be right, and nothing, either more or less, can be right. If these are not truths of intuition, then there are no such truths. 

(2.) God has never proclaimed any other rule of duty, and should he do it, it could not be obligatory. The moral law did not originate in his arbitrary will. He did not create it, nor can he alter it, or introduce any other rule of right among moral agents. Can God make anything else right than to love him with all the heart, and our neighbour as ourselves? Surely not. Some have strangely dreamed that the law of faith has superseded the moral law. But we shall see that moral law is not made void, but is established by the law of faith. True faith, from its very nature, always implies love or obedience to the moral law; and love or obedience to the moral law always implies faith. As has been said on a former occasion, no being can create law. Nothing is, or can be, obligatory on a moral agent, but the course of conduct suited to his nature and relations. No being can set aside the obligation to do this. Nor can any being render anything more than this obligatory. Indeed, there cannot possibly be any other rule of duty than the moral law. There can be no other standard with which to compare our actions, and in the light of which to decide their moral character. This brings us to the consideration of the second proposition, namely,– 

2. That nothing can be virtue or true religion but obedience to the moral law. 

By this two things are intended:– 

(1.) That every modification of true virtue is only obedience to moral law. 

(2.) That nothing can be virtue, but just that which the moral law requires. 

That every modification of true virtue is only obedience to moral law, will appear, if we consider,– 

(a.) That virtue is identical with true religion: 

(b.) That true religion cannot properly consist in anything else, than the love to God and man, enjoined by the moral law: 

(c.) That the Bible expressly recognizes love as the fulfilling of the law, and as expressly denies, that anything else is acceptable to God. 

“Therefore love is the fulfilling of the law.” “Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity (love), I am become as sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity (love), it profiteth me nothing.” (1 Cor. 13) 

Love is repeatedly recognized in the Bible, not only as constituting true religion, but as being the whole of religion. Every form of true religion is only a form of love or benevolence. 

Repentance consists in the turning of the soul from a state of selfishness to benevolence, from disobedience to God’s law, to obedience to it. 

Faith is the receiving of, or confiding in, embracing, loving, truth and the God of truth. It is only a modification of love to God and Christ. Every Christian grace or virtue, as we shall more fully see when we come to consider them in detail, is only a modification of love. God is love. Every modification of virtue and holiness in God is only love, or the state of mind which moral law requires alike of him and of us. Benevolence is the whole of virtue in God, and in all holy beings. Justice, truthfulness, and every moral attribute, is only benevolence viewed in particular relations. 

Nothing can be virtue that is not just what the moral law demands. That is, nothing short of what it requires can be, in any proper sense, virtue. 

A common idea seems to be, that a kind of obedience is rendered to God by Christians which is true religion, and which, on Christ’s account, is accepted of God, which after all comes indefinitely short of full or entire obedience at any moment; that the gospel has somehow brought men, that is, Christians, into such relations, that God really accepts from them an imperfect obedience, something far below what his law requires; that Christians are accepted and justified while they render at best but a partial obedience, and while they sin more or less at every moment. Now this appears to me, to be as radical an error as can well be taught. The subject naturally branches out into two distinct inquiries:– 

(1.) Is it possible for a moral agent partly to obey, and partly to disobey, the moral law at the same time? 

(2.) Can God in any sense, justify one who does not yield a present and full obedience to the moral law? 

The first of these questions has been fully discussed in the preceding lecture. We think that it has been shown, that obedience to the moral law cannot be partial, in the sense that the subject can partly obey, and partly disobey, at the same time. 

We will now attend to the second question, namely,– 

Can God, in any sense, justify one who does not yield a present and full obedience to the moral law? Or, in other words, Can he accept anything as virtue or obedience, which is not, for the time being, full obedience, or all that the law requires? 

The term justification is used in two senses. 

(a.) In the sense of pronouncing the subject blameless: 

(b.) In the sense of pardon, acceptance, and treating one who has sinned, as if he had not sinned. 

It is in this last sense, that the advocates of this theory hold, that Christians are justified, that is, that they are pardoned, and accepted, and treated as just, though at every moment sinning, by coming short of rendering that obedience which the moral law demands. They do not pretend that they are justified at any moment by the law, for that at every moment condemns them for present sin; but that they are justified by grace, not in the sense that they are made really and personally righteous by grace, but that grace pardons and accepts, and in this sense justifies them when they are in the present commission of an indefinite amount of sin; that grace accounts them righteous while, in fact, they are continually sinning; that they are fully pardoned and acquitted, while at the same moment committing sin, by coming entirely and perpetually short of the obedience which, under the circumstances, the law of God requires. While voluntarily withholding full obedience, their partial obedience is accepted, and the sin of withholding full obedience is forgiven. God accepts what the sinner has a mind to give, and forgives what he voluntarily withholds. This is no caricature. It is, if I understand them, precisely what many hold. In considering this subject, I wish to propose for discussion the following inquiries, as of fundamental importance. 

(1.) If a present partial obedience can be accepted, how great a part may be withholden and we be accepted? 

(2.) If we are forgiven, while voluntarily withholding a part of that which would constitute full obedience, are we not forgiven sin of which we do not repent, and forgiven, while in the act of committing the sin for which we are forgiven? 

(3.) What good can result to the sinner, to God, or to the universe from forgiving impenitence, or sin which is persisted in? 

(4.) Has God a right to pardon present sin, and of course sin unrepented of? 

(5.) Have we a right to ask him to forgive present sin, while unrepented of? 

(6.) Must not confession of present sin, and of course sin unrepented of, be base hypocrisy? 

(7.) Does the Bible recognize or proclaim the pardon of sin, under such circumstances? 

(8.) Does the Bible recognize any justification in sin? 

(9.) Can there be such a thing as partial repentance of sin? That is, does not repentance imply present full obedience to the law of God? 

(10.) Must not that be a gross error, that represents God as pardoning and justifying a sinner in the present voluntary commission of sin? 

(11.) Can there be any other than a voluntary sin? 

(12.) Must not present sin be sin unrepented of? 

Let us now attend to these questions in their order. 

(1.) How much sin may we commit, or how much may we, at every moment, come short of full obedience to the law of God, and yet be accepted and justified? 

This must be an inquiry of infinite importance. If we may wilfully withhold a part of our hearts from God, and yet be accepted, how great a part may we withhold? If we may love God with less than all our hearts, and our neighbour less than ourselves, and be accepted, how much less than supreme love to God, and equal love to our neighbour, will be accepted? 

Shall we be told, that the least degree of true love to God and our neighbour will be accepted? But what is true love to God and our neighbour? This is the point of inquiry. Is that true love which is not what is required? If the least degree of love to God will be accepted, then we may love ourselves more than we love God, and yet be accepted. We may love God a little, and ourselves much, and still be in a state of acceptance with God. We may love God a little, and our neighbour a little, and ourselves more than we love God and all our neighbours, and yet be in a justified state. Or shall we be told that God must be loved supremely? But what is intended by this? Is supreme love a loving with all the heart? But this is full and not partial obedience; yet the latter is the thing about which we are inquiring. Or is supreme love, not love with all the heart, but simply a higher degree of love than we exercise toward any other being? But how much greater must it be? Barely a little? How are we to measure it? In what scale are we to weigh, or by what standard are we to measure, our love, so as to know whether we love God a little more than any other being? But how much are we to love our neighbour, in order to our being accepted? If we may love him a little less than ourselves, how much less, and still be justified? These are certainly questions of vital importance. But such questions look like trifling. Yet why should they? If the theory I am examining be true, these questions must not only be asked, but they must admit of a satisfactory answer. The advocates of the theory in question are bound to answer them. And if they cannot, it is only because their theory is false. Is it possible that their theory should be true, and yet no one be able to answer such vital questions as these just proposed? If a partial obedience can be accepted, it is a momentous question, how partial, or how complete must that obedience be? I say again, that this is a question of agonizing interest. God forbid that we should be left in the dark here. 

But let us look at the second question. 

(2.) If we are forgiven while voluntarily withholding a part of that which would constitute full obedience, are we not forgiven sin of which we do not repent, and forgiven while in the act of committing the sin for which we are forgiven? 

The theory in question is that Christians never, at any time, in this world, yield a full obedience to the divine law; that they always withhold a part of their hearts from the Lord, and yet, while in the very act of committing this abominable sin of voluntarily defrauding God and their neighbour, God accepts their persons and their services, fully forgives and justifies them. What is this, but pardoning present and pertinacious rebellion! Receiving to favour a God-defrauding wretch! Forgiving a sin unrepented of and detestably persevered in? Yes, this must be, if it be true that Christians are justified without present full obedience. That surely must be a doctrine of devils, that represents God as receiving to favour a rebel who has one hand filled with weapons against his throne. 

(3.) But what good can result to God, or the sinner, or to the universe, by thus pardoning and justifying an unsanctified soul? Can God be honoured by such a proceeding? Will the holy universe respect, fear, and honour God for such a proceeding? Does it, can it, commend itself to the intelligence of the universe? 

Will pardon and justification save the sinner, while he yet continues to withhold a part, at least, of his heart from God, while he still cleaves to a part of his sins? Can heaven be edified, or hell confounded, and its cavils silenced, by such a method of justification? 

(4.) But again: Has God a right to pardon sin unrepented of? 

Some may feel shocked at the question, and may insist that this is a question which we have no right to agitate. But let me inquire: Has God, as a moral governor, a right to act arbitrarily? Is there not some course of conduct which is suitable to him? Has he not given us intelligence on purpose that we may be able to see and judge of the propriety of his public acts? Does he not invite and require scrutiny? Why has he required an atonement for sin, and why has he required repentance at all? Who does not know that no executive magistrate has a right to pardon sin unrepented of? The lowest terms upon which any ruler can exercise mercy, are repentance, or, which is the same thing, a return to obedience. Who ever heard, in any government, of a rebel’s being pardoned, while he only renounced a part of his rebellion? To pardon him while any part of his rebellion is persevered in, were to sanction by a public act that which is lacking in his repentance. It were to pronounce a public justification of his refusal to render full obedience. 

(5.) But have we a right to ask forgiveness while we persevere in the sin of withholding a part of our heart from him? 

God has no right to forgive us, and we have no right to desire him to forgive us, while we keep back any part of the condition of forgiveness. While we persist in defrauding God and our neighbour, we cannot profess penitence and ask forgiveness without gross hypocrisy. And shall God forgive us while we cannot, without hypocrisy, even profess repentance? To ask for pardon, while we do not repent and cease from sin, is a gross insult to God. 

(6.) But does the Bible recognize the pardon of present sin, and while unrepented of? 

Let the passage be found, if it can be, where sin is represented as pardoned or pardonable, unless repented of and fully forsaken. No such passage can be found. The opposite of this always stands revealed expressly or impliedly, on every page of divine inspiration. 

(7.) Does the Bible anywhere recognize a justification in sin? 

Where is such a passage to be found? Does not the law condemn sin, in every degree of it? Does it not unalterably condemn the sinner in whose heart the vile abomination is found? If a soul can sin, and yet not be condemned, then it must be because the law is abrogated, for surely, if the law still remains in force, it must condemn all sin. James most unequivocally teaches this: “If any man keep the whole law, and yet offend in one point, he is guilty of all.” What is this, but asserting, that if there could be a partial obedience, it would be unavailing, since the law would condemn for any degree of sin; that partial obedience, did it exist, would not be regarded as acceptable obedience at all? The doctrine, that a partial obedience, in the sense that the law is not at any time fully obeyed, is accepted of God, is sheer antinomianism. What! a sinner justified while indulging in rebellion against God! 

But it has been generally held in the church, that a sinner must intend fully to obey the law, as a condition of justification; that, in his purpose and intention, he must forsake all sin; that nothing short of perfection of aim or intention can be accepted of God. Now, what is intended by this language? We have seen in former lectures, that moral character belongs properly only to the intention. If, then, perfection of intention be an indispensable condition of justification, what is this, but an admission, after all, that full present obedience is a condition of justification? But this is what we hold, and they deny. What then can they mean? It is of importance to ascertain what is intended by the assertion, repeated by them thousands of times, that a sinner cannot be justified but upon condition, that he fully purposes and intends to abandon all sin, and to live without sin; unless he seriously intends to render full obedience to all the commands of God. Intends to obey the law! What constitutes obedience to the law? Why, love, good-willing, good-intending. Intending to obey the law is intending to intend, willing to will, choosing to choose! This is absurd! 

What then is the state of mind which is, and must be, the condition of justification? Not merely an intention to obey, for this is only an intending to intend, but intending what the law requires to be intended, to wit, the highest well-being of God and of the universe. Fully intending this, and not fully intending to intend this, is the condition of justification. But fully intending this is full present obedience to the law. 

But again: it is absurd to say that a man can intend fully to obey the law, unless he actually fully intends what the law requires him to intend. The law requires him fully to intend the highest well-being of God and of the universe. And unless he intends this, it is absurd to say that he can intend full obedience to the law; that he intends to live without sin. The supposition is, that he is now sinning, that is, for nothing else is sin, voluntarily withholding from God and man their due. He chooses, wills, and intends this, and yet the supposition is, that at the same time he chooses, wills, intends, fully to obey the law. What is this but the ridiculous assertion, that he at the same time intends full obedience to the law, and intends not fully to obey, but only to obey in part, voluntarily withholding from God and man their dues. 

But again, to the question, can man be justified while sin remains in him? Surely he cannot, either upon legal or gospel principles, unless the law be repealed. That he cannot be justified by the law, while there is a particle of sin in him, is too plain to need proof. But can he be pardoned and accepted, and then justified, in the gospel sense, while sin, any degree of sin, remains in him? Certainly not. For the law, unless it be repealed, and antinomianism be true, continues to condemn him while there is any degree of sin in him. It is a contradiction to say, that he can both be pardoned, and at the same time condemned. But if he is all the time coming short of full obedience, there never is a moment in which the law is not uttering its curses against him. “Cursed is every one that continueth not in all things that are written in the book of the law to do them.” The fact is, there never has been, and there never can be, any such thing as sin without condemnation. “Beloved, if our own heart condemn us, God is greater than our heart;” that, is, he much more condemns us. “But if our heart condemn us not, then have we confidence towards God.” God cannot repeal the law. It is not founded in his arbitrary will. It is as unalterable and unrepealable as his own nature. God can never repeal nor alter it. He can, for Christ’s sake, dispense with the execution of the penalty, when the subject has returned to full present obedience to the precept, but in no other case, and upon no other possible conditions. To affirm that he can, is to affirm that God can alter the immutable and eternal principles of moral law and moral government. 

(8.) The next inquiry is, can there be such a thing as a partial repentance of sin? That is, does not true repentance imply a return to present full obedience to the law of God? 

In considering this question, I will state, briefly– 

(i.) What repentance is not. 

(ii.) What it is. 

(iii.) What is not implied in it. 

(iv.) What is. 

I shall in this place only state these points briefly, leaving their full consideration to their appropriate place in this course of instruction. 

(i.) What repentance is not. 

(a.) It is not a phenomenon of the intelligence. It does not consist in conviction of sin, nor in any intellectual views of sin whatever. 

(b.) It is not a phenomenon of the sensibility. It does not consist in a feeling of regret, or remorse, or of sorrow of any kind or degree. It is not a feeling of any kind. 

(ii.) What it is. 

The primary signification of the word rendered repentance is, to reflect, to think again, but more particularly to change the mind in conformity with a second thought, or in accordance with a more rational and intelligent view of the subject. To repent is to change the choice, purpose, intention. It is to choose a new end,–to begin a new life,–to turn from self-seeking to seeking the highest good of being,–to turn from selfishness to disinterested benevolence,–from a state of disobedience to a state of obedience. 

(iii.) What is not implied in it. 

(a.) It does not imply the remembrance of all past sin. This would be implied if repentance consisted, as some seem to suppose, in sorrowing over every particular sin. But as repentance consists in returning or turning to God, from the spirit of self-seeking and self-pleasing to the spirit of seeking the highest well-being of God and the universe, no such thing as the remembrance of all past sin is implied in it. 

(b.) It does not imply a continual sorrowing for past sin; for past sin is not, cannot be, ought not to be, the subject of continual thought. 

(iv.) What is implied in it. 

(a.) An understanding of the nature of sin, as consisting in the spirit of self-seeking, or in selfishness. This is implied, as a condition upon which repentance can be exercised, but it does not constitute repentance. Repentance is the voluntary turning which follows the intellectual illumination or understanding of the nature of sin. 

(b.) A turning from this state to a state of consecration to God and the good of the universe. 

(c.) Sorrow for past sin when it is remembered. This, and the following particulars, are implied in repentance as necessarily following from it. 

(d.) Universal, outward reformation. 

(e.) Emotions of hatred of sin. 

(f.) Emotions of self-loathing on account of sin. 

Certainly, if repentance means and implies anything, it does imply a thorough reformation of heart and life. A reformation of heart consists in turning from selfishness to benevolence. We have seen in a former lecture, that selfishness and benevolence cannot co-exist, at the same time, in the same mind. They are the supreme choice of opposite ends. These ends cannot both be chosen at the same time. To talk of partial repentance as a possible thing is to talk nonsense. It is to overlook the very nature of repentance. What! a man both turn away from, and hold on to sin at the same time? Serve God and mammon at one and the same time! It is impossible. This impossibility is affirmed both by reason and by Christ. 

(9.) The ninth inquiry is; must not that be a gross error that represents God as pardoning and justifying a sinner in the present wilful commission of sin? I answer, yes,– 

(i.) Because it is antinomianism, than which there is scarcely any form of error more God-dishonouring. 

(ii.) Because it represents God as doing what he has no right to do, and, therefore, as doing what he cannot do, without sinning himself. 

(iii.) Because it represents Christ as the minister of sin, and as justifying his people in their sins, instead of saving them from their sins. 

(iv.) Because it represents God as making void, instead of establishing the law through faith. 

(v.) Because it is a prolific source of delusion, leading multitudes to think themselves justified, while living in known sin. But perhaps it will be objected, that the sin of those who render but a partial obedience, and whom God pardons and accepts, is not a voluntary sin. This leads to the tenth inquiry:– 

(10.) Can there be any other than voluntary sin? 

What is sin? Sin is a transgression of the law. The law requires benevolence, good-willing. Sin is not a mere negation, or a not willing, but consists in willing self-gratification. It is a willing contrary to the commandment of God. Sin, as well as holiness, consists in choosing, willing, intending. Sin must be voluntary; that is, it must be intelligent and voluntary. It consists in willing, and it is nonsense to deny that sin is voluntary. The fact is, there is either no sin, or there is voluntary sin. Benevolence is willing the good of being in general, as an end, and, of course, implies the rejection of self-gratification, as an end. So sin is the choice of self-gratification, as an end, and necessarily implies the rejection of the good of being in general, as an end. Sin and holiness, naturally and necessarily, exclude each other. They are eternal opposites and antagonists. Neither can consist with the presence of the other in the heart. They consist in the active state of the will, and there can be no sin or holiness that does not consist in choice. 

(11.) Must not present sin be sin unrepented of? 

Yes, it is impossible for one to repent of present sin. To affirm that present sin is repented of, is to affirm a contradiction. It is overlooking both the nature of sin, and the nature of repentance. Sin is selfish willing; repentance is turning from selfish to benevolent willing. These two states of will, as has just been said, cannot possibly co-exist. Whoever, then, is at present falling short of full obedience to the law of God, is voluntarily sinning against God, and is impenitent. It is nonsense to say, that he is partly penitent and partly impenitent; that he is penitent so far as he obeys, and impenitent so far as he disobeys. This really seems to be the loose idea of many, that a man can be partly penitent, and partly impenitent at the same time. This idea, doubtless, is founded on the mistake, that repentance consists in sorrow for sin, or is a phenomenon of the sensibility. But we have seen that repentance consists in a change of ultimate intention,–a change in the choice of an end,–a turning from selfishness to supreme disinterested benevolence. It is, therefore, plainly impossible for one to be partly penitent, and partly impenitent at the same time; inasmuch as penitence and impenitence consist in supreme opposite choices. 

So then it is plain, that nothing is accepted as virtue under the government of God, but present full obedience to his law. 

REMARKS.

1. If what has been said is true, we see that the church has fallen into a great and ruinous mistake, in supposing that a state of present sinlessness is a very rare, if not an impossible, attainment in this life. If the doctrine of this lecture be true, it follows that the very beginning of true religion in the soul, implies the renunciation of all sin. Sin ceases where holiness begins. Now, how great and ruinous must that error be, that teaches us to hope for heaven, while living in conscious sin; to look upon a sinless state, as not to be expected in this world; that it is a dangerous error to expect to stop sinning, even for an hour or a moment, in this world; and yet to hope for heaven! And how unreasonable must that state of mind be, that can brand as heretics those who teach, that God justifies no one, but upon condition of present sinlessness!*(see below)

2. How great and ruinous the error, that justification is conditionated upon a faith that does not purify the heart of the believer; that one may be in a state of justification who lives in the constant commission of more or less sin. This error has slain more souls, I fear, than all the universalism that ever cursed the world. 

3. We see that, if a righteous man forsake his righteousness, and die in his sin, he must sink to hell. 

4. We see, that whenever a Christian sins he comes under condemnation, and must repent and do his first works, or be lost.

*Their present sinlessness is not the ground, but only a sine quà non, of gospel justification.–See Lecture LVI, subject, “Justification.”

The Rev. CHARLES G. FINNEY’S SYSTEMATIC THEOLOGY (1851)

WHAT IS NOT IMPLIED IN OBEDIENCE TO MORAL LAW. 

I. I will state briefly what constitutes obedience. 

II. What is not implied in it. 

I. What constitutes obedience to moral law. 

We have seen, that all the law requires is summarily expressed in the single word, love; that this word is synonymous with benevolence; that benevolence consists in the choice of the highest well-being of God and of the universe, as an end, or for its own sake; that this choice is an ultimate intention. In short, we have seen, that good-will to being in general is obedience to the moral law. Now the question before us is, what is not implied in this good-will, or in this benevolent ultimate intention? I will here introduce, with some alteration, what I have formerly said upon this subject. 

Since the law of God, as revealed in the Bible, is the standard, and the only standard, by which the question in regard to what is not, and what is, implied in entire sanctification, is to be decided, it is of fundamental importance, that we understand what is, and what is not, implied in entire obedience to this law. It must be apparent to all, that this inquiry is of prime importance. To settle this question is one of the main things to be attended to in this discussion. The doctrine of the entire sanctification of believers in this life can never be satisfactorily settled until it is understood. And it cannot be understood, until it is known what is, and what is not, implied in it. Our judgment of our own state, or of the state of others, can never be relied upon, till these inquiries are settled. Nothing is more clear than that, in the present vague unsettled views of the church upon this question, no individual could set up a claim of having attained this state, without being a stumbling-block to the church. Christ was perfect, and yet so erroneous were the notions of the Jews, in regard to what constituted perfection, that they thought him possessed with a devil, instead of being holy, as he claimed to be. It certainly is impossible, that a person should profess to render entire obedience to the moral law, without being a stumbling-block to himself and to others, unless he and they clearly understand what is not, and what is, implied in it. I will state then, what is not implied in entire obedience to the moral law, as I understand it. The law, as epitomized by Christ, “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and with all thy strength, and thy neighbour as thyself,”–I understand to lay down the whole duty of man to God, and to his fellow creatures. Now, the questions are, what is not, and what is, implied in perfect obedience to this law? Vague notions, in regard to the proper answer to be given to these questions, seem to me to have been the origin of much error. To settle these questions, it is indispensable that we have distinctly before our minds just rules of legal interpretation. I will, therefore, lay down some first principles, in regard to the interpretation of law, in the light of which, I think, we may safely proceed to settle these questions. 

RULE 1. Whatever is inconsistent with natural justice is not, and cannot be, moral law. 

2. Whatever is inconsistent with the nature and relations of moral beings, is contrary to natural justice, and, therefore, cannot be moral law. 

3. That which requires more than man has natural ability to perform, is inconsistent with his nature and relations, and, therefore, is inconsistent with natural justice, and, of course, is not moral law. 

4. Moral law, then, must always be so understood and interpreted, as to consist with the nature of the subjects, and their relations to each other and to the lawgiver. Any interpretation that makes the law to require more than is consistent with the nature and relations of moral beings, is the same as to declare that it is not law. No authority in heaven or on earth can make that law, or obligatory upon moral agents, which is inconsistent with their nature and relations. 

5. Moral law must always be so interpreted as to cover the whole ground of natural right or justice. It must be so understood and explained, as to require all that is right in itself, and, therefore, immutably and unalterably right. 

6. Moral law must be so interpreted, as not to require any thing more than is consistent with natural justice, or with the nature and relations of moral beings. 

7. Moral law is never to be so interpreted as to imply the possession of any attributes, or strength, or perfection of attributes which the subject does not possess. Take for illustration the second commandment, “Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.” Now the simple meaning of this commandment seems to be, that we are to regard and treat every person and interest according to its relative value. We are not to understand this commandment as expressly or by implication, requiring us to know, in all cases, the exact relative value of every person and thing in the universe; for this would imply our possession of the attribute of omniscience. No mind, short of an omniscient one, can have this knowledge. The commandment, then, must be so understood, as only to require us to judge with candour of the relative value of different interests, and to treat them according to their value, and our ability to promote their good, so far as we understand it. I repeat the rule, therefore; moral law is never to be so interpreted as to imply the possession of any attribute, or any strength and perfection of attributes, which the subject does not possess. 

8. Moral law is never to be so interpreted as to require that which is naturally impossible in our circumstances. Example:–The first commandment, “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart,” &c., is not to be so interpreted, as to require us to make God the constant and sole object of our attention, thought, and affection; for this would not only be plainly impossible in our circumstances, but manifestly contrary to our duty. 

9. Moral law is never to be so interpreted as to make one requirement inconsistent with another. Example: if the first commandment be so interpreted as to require us to make God the only object of thought, affection, and attention, then we cannot obey the second commandment which requires us to love our neighbour. And if the first commandment is to be so understood, that every faculty and power is to be directed solely and exclusively, to the contemplation and love of God, then love to all other beings is prohibited, and the second commandment is set aside. I repeat the rule, therefore; commandments are not to be so interpreted, as to conflict with each other. 

10. A law requiring perpetual benevolence must be so construed, as to consist with, and require, all the appropriate and essential modifications of this principle, under every circumstance; such as justice, mercy, anger at sin and sinners, and a special and complacent regard to those who are virtuous. 

11. Moral law must be so interpreted, as that its claims shall always be restricted to the voluntary powers, in such a sense, that the right action of the will shall be regarded as fulfilling the spirit of the law, whether the desired outward action, or inward emotion, follow or not. If there be a willing mind, that is, if the will or heart is right, it is and must, in justice, be accepted as obedience to the spirit of moral law. For whatever does not follow the action of the will, by a law of necessity, is naturally impossible to us, and, therefore, not obligatory. To attempt to legislate directly over the involuntary powers, would be inconsistent with natural justice. You may as well attempt to legislate over the beating of the heart, as directly over any involuntary mental actions. 

12. In morals, actual knowledge is indispensable to moral obligation. The maxim, “ignorantia legis non excusat” (ignorance of the law excuses no one), applies in morals to but a very limited extent. That actual knowledge is indispensable to moral obligation, will appear– 

(1.) From the following scriptures;

Jam_4:17 : “Therefore, to him that knoweth to do good, and doeth it not, to him it is sin.” Luk_12:47-48 : “And that servant, which knew his lord’s will, and prepared not himself, neither did according to his will, shall be beaten with many stripes. But he that knew not, and did commit things worthy of stripes, shall be beaten with few stripes. For unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall be much required; and to whom men have committed much, of him they will ask the more.” Joh_9:41 : “Jesus said unto them, If ye were blind ye should have no sin; but now ye say, We see, therefore your sin remaineth.” In the first and second chapters of the epistle to the Romans, the apostle reasons at large on this subject. He convicts the heathen of sin, upon the ground that they violate their own consciences, and do not live according to the light they have. 

(2.) The principle is everywhere recognized in the Bible, that an increase of knowledge increases obligation. This impliedly, but plainly, recognizes the principle that knowledge is indispensable to, and commensurate with, obligation. In sins of ignorance, the sin lies in the state of heart that neglects or refuses to be informed, but not in the neglect of what is unknown. A man may be guilty of present or past neglect to ascertain the truth. Here his ignorance is sin, or rather, the state of heart that induces ignorance, is sin. The heathen are culpable for not living up to the light of nature; but are under no obligation to embrace Christianity, until they have the opportunity to do so. 

13. Moral law is to be so interpreted, as to be consistent with physical law. In other words, the application of moral law to human beings, must recognize man as he is, as both a corporeal and an intellectual being; and must never be so interpreted as that obedience to it would violate the laws of the physical constitution, and prove the destruction of the body. 

14. Moral law is to be so interpreted as to recognize all the attributes and circumstances of both body and soul. In the application of the law of God to human beings, we are to regard their powers and attributes as they really are, and not as they are not. 

15. Moral law is to be so interpreted as to restrict its obligation to the actions, and not to extend them to the nature or constitution of moral beings. Law must not be understood as extending its legislation to the nature, or requiring a man to possess certain attributes, but as prescribing a rule of action, suited to the attributes he at present possesses. It is not the existence or possession of certain attributes which the law requires, or that these attributes should be in a certain state of perfection; but the right use of all these attributes as they are, is what the law is to be interpreted as requiring. 

16. It should be always understood, that the obedience of the heart to any law, implies, and includes general faith, or confidence in the lawgiver; but no law should be so construed as to require faith in what the intellect does not perceive. A man may be under obligation to perceive what he does not; that is, it may be his duty to inquire after and ascertain the truth. But obligation to believe with the heart, does not attach until the intellect obtains perception of the things to be believed. 

Now, in the light of these rules let us proceed to inquire:– 

II. What is not implied in entire obedience to the law of God. 

1. Entire obedience does not imply any change in the substance of the soul or body; for this the law does not require; and it would not be obligatory if it did, because the requirement would be inconsistent with natural justice, and, therefore, not law. Entire obedience is the entire consecration of the powers, as they are, to God. It does not imply any change in them, but simply the right use of them. 

2. It does not imply the annihilation of any constitutional traits of character, such as constitutional ardour or impetuosity. There is nothing, certainly, in the law of God that requires such constitutional traits to be annihilated, but simply that they should be rightly directed in their exercise. 

3. It does not imply the annihilation of any of the constitutional appetites, or susceptibilities. It seems to be supposed by some, that the constitutional appetites and susceptibilities, are in themselves sinful, and that a state of entire conformity to the law of God implies their entire annihilation. And I have often been astonished at the fact, that those who array themselves against the doctrine of entire conformity to the law of God in this life, assume the sinfulness of the constitution of man. And I have been not a little surprised to find, that some persons who, I had supposed, were far enough from embracing the doctrine of physical moral depravity, were, after all, resorting to this assumption, in order to set aside the doctrine of entire sanctification in this life. But let us appeal to the law. Does the law any where, expressly or impliedly, condemn the constitution of man, or require the annihilation of any thing that is properly a part of the constitution itself? Does it require the annihilation of the appetite for food, or is it satisfied merely with regulating its indulgence? In short, does the law of God any where require any thing more than the consecration of all the powers, appetites, and susceptibilities of body and mind to the service of God? 

4. Entire obedience does not imply the annihilation of natural affection, or natural resentment. By natural affection I mean, that certain persons may be naturally pleasing to us. Christ appears to have had a natural affection for John. By natural resentment I mean, that, from the laws of our being, we must resent or feel opposed to injustice or ill-treatment. Not that a disposition to retaliate or revenge ourselves is consistent with the law of God. But perfect obedience to the law of God does not imply that we should have no sense of injury and injustice, when we are abused. God has this, and ought to have it, and so has every moral being. To love your neighbour as yourself, does not imply, that if he injure you, you should feel no sense of the injury or injustice, but that you should love him and do him good, notwithstanding his injurious treatment. 

5. It does not imply any unhealthy degree of excitement of the mind. Rule 13 lays down the principle that moral law is to be so interpreted as to be consistent with physical law. God’s laws certainly do not clash with each other. And the moral law cannot require such a state of constant mental excitement as will destroy the physical constitution. It cannot require any more mental excitement than is consistent with all the laws, attributes, and circumstances of both soul and body, as stated in Rule 14. 

6. It does not imply that any organ or faculty is to be at all times exerted to the full measure of its capacity. This would soon exhaust and destroy any and every organ of the body. Whatever may be true of the mind, when separated from the body, it is certain, while it acts through a material organ, that a constant state of excitement is impossible. When the mind is strongly excited, there is of necessity a great determination of blood to the brain. A high degree of excitement cannot long continue, without producing inflammation of the brain, and consequent insanity. And the law of God does not require any degree of emotion, or mental excitement, inconsistent with life and health. Our Lord Jesus Christ does not appear to have been in a state of continual mental excitement. When he and his disciples had been in a great excitement for a time, they would turn aside, “and rest a while.” 

Who that has ever philosophized on this subject, does not know that the high degree of excitement which is sometimes witnessed in revivals of religion, must necessarily be short, or that the people must become deranged? It seems sometimes to be indispensable that a high degree of excitement should prevail for a time, to arrest public and individual attention, and draw off people from other pursuits, to attend to the concerns of their souls. But if any suppose that this high degree of excitement is either necessary or desirable, or possible to be long continued, they have not well considered the matter. And here is one grand mistake of the church. They have supposed that the revival consists mostly in this state of excited emotion, rather than in conformity of the human will to the law of God. Hence, when the reasons for much excitement have ceased, and the public mind begins to grow more calm, they begin immediately to say, that the revival is on the decline; when, in fact, with much less excited emotion, there may be vastly more real religion in the community. 

Excitement is often important and indispensable, but the vigorous actings of the will are infinitely more important. And this state of mind may exist in the absence of highly excited emotions. 

7. Nor does it imply that the same degree of emotion, volition, or intellectual effort, is at all times required. All volitions do not need the same strength. They cannot have equal strength, because they are not produced by equally influential reasons. Should a man put forth as strong a volition to pick up an apple, as to extinguish the flames of a burning house? Should a mother, watching over her sleeping nursling, when all is quiet and secure, put forth as powerful volitions, as might be required to snatch it from the devouring flames? Now, suppose that she were equally devoted to God, in watching her sleeping babe, and in rescuing it from the jaws of death. Her holiness would not consist in the fact, that she exercised equally strong volitions, in both cases; but that in both cases the volition was equal to the accomplishment of the thing required to be done. So that persons may be entirely holy, and yet continually varying in the strength of their affections, emotions, or volitions, according to their circumstances, the state of their physical system, and the business in which they are engaged. 

All the powers of body and mind are to be held at the service and disposal of God. Just so much of physical, intellectual, and moral energy are to be expended in the performance of duty, as the nature and the circumstances of the case require. And nothing is further from the truth than that the law of God requires a constant, intense state of emotion and mental action, on any and every subject alike. 

8. Entire obedience does not imply that God is to be at all times the direct object of attention and affection. This is not only impossible in the nature of the case, but would render it impossible for us to think of or love our neighbour as ourselves: Rule 9. 

The law of God requires the supreme love of the heart. By this is meant that the mind’s supreme preference should be of God–that God should be the great object of its supreme regard. But this state of mind is perfectly consistent with our engaging in any of the necessary business of life–giving to that business that attention, and exercising about it all those affections and emotions, which its nature and importance demand. 

If a man love God supremely, and engage in any business for the promotion of his glory, if his eye be single, his affections and conduct, so far as they have any moral character, are entirely holy when necessarily engaged in the right transaction of his business, although, for the time being, neither his thoughts nor affections are upon God; just as a man, who is intensely devoted to his family, may be acting consistently with his supreme affection, and rendering them the most important and perfect service, while he does not think of them at all. It is said, in my lecture on the text, “Make to yourself a new heart, and a new spirit:”–“The moral heart is the mind’s supreme preference. The natural, or fleshy, heart propels the blood through all the physical system. Now there is a striking analogy between this and the moral heart. And the analogy consists in this, that as the natural heart, by its pulsations, diffuses life through the physical system, so the moral heart, or the supreme governing preference, or ultimate intention of the mind, is that which gives life and character to man’s moral actions. For example, suppose that I am engaged in teaching mathematics; in this, my ultimate intention is to glorify God in this particular calling. Now, in demonstrating some of its intricate propositions, I am obliged, for hours together, to give the entire attention of my mind to that object. While my mind is thus intensely employed in one particular business, it is impossible that I should have any thoughts directly about God, or should exercise any direct affections, or emotions, or volitions, towards him. Yet if, in this particular calling, all selfishness is excluded, and my supreme design is to glorify God, my mind is in a state of entire obedience, even though, for the time being, I do not think of God.” 

It should be understood, that while the supreme preference or intention of the mind has such efficiency, as to exclude all selfishness, and to call forth just that strength of volition, thought, affection, and emotion, that is requisite to the right discharge of any duty, to which the mind may be called, the heart is in a right state. And this must always be the case while the intention is really honest, as was shown on a former occasion. By a suitable degree of thought and feeling, to the right discharge of duty, I mean just that intensity of thought, and energy of action, that the nature and importance of the particular duty, to which, for the time being, I am called, demand, in my honest estimation. 

In making this statement, I take it for granted, that the brain, together with all the circumstances of the constitution are such that the requisite amount of thought, feeling, &c., are possible. If the physical constitution be in such a state of exhaustion, as to be unable to put forth that amount of exertion which the nature of the case might otherwise demand, even in this case, the languid efforts, though far below the importance of the subject, would be all that the law of God requires. Whoever, therefore, supposes that a state of entire obedience implies a state of entire abstraction of mind from everything but God, labours under a grievous mistake. Such a state of mind is as inconsistent with duty, as it is impossible, while we are in the flesh. 

The fact is, that the language and spirit of the law have been and generally are, grossly misunderstood, and interpreted to mean what they never did, or can, mean, consistently with natural justice. Many a mind has been thrown open to the assaults of Satan, and kept in a state of continual bondage and condemnation, because God was not, at all times, the direct object of thought, affection, and emotion; and because the mind was not kept in a state of perfect tension, and excited to the utmost at every moment. 

9. Nor does it imply a state of continual calmness of mind. Christ was not in a state of continual calmness. The deep peace of his mind was never broken up, but the surface or emotions of his mind were often in a state of great excitement, and at other times, in a state of great calmness. And here let me refer to Christ, as we have his history in the Bible, in illustration of the positions I have already taken. For example, Christ had all the constitutional appetites and susceptibilities of human nature. Had it been otherwise, he could not have been “tempted in all points like as we are;” nor could he have been tempted in any point as we are, any further than he possessed a constitution similar to our own. Christ also manifested natural affection for his mother and for other friends. He also showed that he had a sense of injury and injustice, and exercised a suitable resentment when he was injured and persecuted. He was not always in a state of great excitement. He appears to have had his seasons of excitement and of calm–of labour and rest–of joy and sorrow, like other good men. Some persons have spoken of entire obedience to the law, as implying a state of uniform and universal calmness, and as if every kind and degree of excited feeling, except the feeling of love to God, were inconsistent with this state. But Christ often manifested a great degree of excitement when reproving the enemies of God. In short, his history would lead to the conclusion that his calmness and excitement were various, according to the circumstances of the case. And although he was sometimes so pointed and severe in his reproof, as to be accused of being possessed of a devil, yet his emotions and feelings were only those that were called for, and suited to the occasion. 

10. Nor does it imply a state of continual sweetness of mind, without any indignation or holy anger at sin and sinners. 

Anger at sin is only a modification of love to being in general. A sense of justice, or a disposition to have the wicked punished for the benefit of the government, is only another of the modifications of love. And such dispositions are essential to the existence of love, where the circumstances call for their exercise. It is said of Christ, that he was angry. He often manifested anger and holy indignation. “God is angry with the wicked every day.” And holiness, or a state of obedience, instead of being inconsistent with, always implies, the existence of anger, whenever circumstances occur which demand its exercise. Rule 10. 

11. It does not imply a state of mind that is all compassion, and no sense of justice. Compassion is only one of the modifications of love. Justice, or willing the execution of law and the punishment of sin, is another of its modifications. God, and Christ, and all holy beings, exercise all those dispositions that constitute the different modifications of love, under every possible circumstance. 

12. It does not imply that we should love or hate all men alike, irrespective of their value, circumstances, and relations. One being may have a greater capacity for well-being, and be of much more importance to the universe, than another. Impartiality and the law of love require us not to regard all beings and things alike, but all beings and things according to their nature, relations, circumstances, and value. 

13. Nor does it imply a perfect knowledge of all our relations. Rule 7. 

Now such an interpretation of the law as would make it necessary, in order to yield obedience, for us to understand all our relations, would imply in us the possession of the attribute of omniscience; for certainly there is not a being in the universe to whom we do not sustain some relation. And a knowledge of all these relations plainly implies infinite knowledge. It is plain that the law of God cannot require any such thing as this; and that entire obedience to the law of God, therefore, implies no such thing. 

14. Nor does it imply perfect knowledge on any subject. Perfect knowledge on any subject, implies a perfect knowledge of its nature, relations, bearings, and tendencies. Now, as every single thing in the universe sustains some relation to, and has some bearing upon, every other thing, there can be no such thing as perfect knowledge on any one subject, that does not embrace universal or infinite knowledge. 

15. Nor does it imply freedom from mistake on any subject whatever. It is maintained by some that the grace of the gospel pledges to every man perfect knowledge, or at least such knowledge as to exempt him from any mistake. I cannot stop here to debate this question, but would merely say, the law does not expressly or impliedly require infallibility of judgment in us. It only requires us to make the best use we can of all the light we have. 

16. Nor does entire obedience imply the knowledge of the exact relative value of different interests. I have already said, in illustrating Rule 7, that the second commandment, “Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself,” does not imply that we should, in every instance, understand exactly the relative value and importance of every interest. This plainly cannot be required, unless it be assumed that we are omniscient. 

17. It does not imply the same degree of knowledge that we might have possessed, had we always improved our time in its acquisition. The law cannot require us to love God or man, as well as we might have been able to love them, had we always improved all our time in obtaining all the knowledge we could, in regard to their nature, character, and interests. If this were implied in the requisition of the law, there is not a saint on earth or in heaven that does, or ever can perfectly obey. What is lost in this respect is lost, and past neglect can never be so remedied, that we shall ever be able to make up in our acquisitions of knowledge what we have lost. It will no doubt be true to all eternity, that we shall have less knowledge than we might have possessed, had we filled up all our time in its acquisition. We do not, cannot, nor shall we ever be able to, love God as well as we might have loved him, had we always applied our minds to the acquisition of knowledge respecting him. And if entire obedience is to be understood as implying that we love God as much as we should, had we all the knowledge we might have had, then I repeat it, there is not a saint on earth or in heaven, nor ever will be, that is entirely obedient. 

18. It does not imply the same amount of service that we might have rendered, had we never sinned. The law of God does not imply or suppose, that our powers are in a perfect state; that our strength of body or mind is what it would have been, had we never sinned. But it simply requires us to use what strength we have. The very wording of the law is proof conclusive, that it extends its demand only to the full amount of what strength we have. And this is true of every moral being, however great or small. 

The most perfect developement and improvement of our powers, must depend upon the most perfect use of them. And every departure from their perfect use, is a diminishing of their highest developement, and a curtailing of their capabilities to serve God in the highest and best manner. All sin then does just so much towards crippling and curtailing the powers of body and mind, and rendering them, by just so much, incapable of performing the service they might otherwise have rendered. 

To this view of the subject it has been objected, that Christ taught an opposite doctrine, in the case of the woman who washed his feet with her tears, when he said, “To whom much is forgiven, the same loveth much.” But can it be that Christ intended to be understood as teaching, that the more we sin the greater will be our love, and our ultimate virtue? If this be so, I do not see why it does not follow that the more sin in this life, the better, if so be that we are forgiven. If our virtue is really to be improved by our sins, I see not why it would not be good economy both for God and man, to sin as much as we can while in this world. Certainly, Christ meant to lay down no such principle as this. He undoubtedly meant to teach, that a person who was truly sensible of the greatness of his sins, would exercise more of the love of gratitude than would be exercised by one who had a less affecting sense of ill-desert. 

19. Entire obedience does not imply the same degree of faith that might have been exercised but for our ignorance and past sin. 

We cannot believe anything about God of which we have neither evidence nor knowledge. Our faith must therefore be limited by our intellectual perceptions of truth. The heathen are not under obligation to believe in Christ, and thousands of other things of which they have no knowledge. Perfection in a heathen would imply much less faith than in a Christian. Perfection in an adult would imply much more and greater faith than in a child. And perfection in an angel would imply much greater faith than in a man, just in proportion as he knows more of God than man does. Let it be always understood, that entire obedience to God never implies that which is naturally impossible. It is naturally impossible for us to believe that of which we have no knowledge. Entire obedience implies, in this respect, nothing more than the heart’s faith or confidence in all the truth that is perceived by the intellect. 

20. Nor does it imply the conversion of all men in answer to our prayers. It has been maintained by some, that entire obedience implies the offering of prevailing prayer for the conversion of all men. To this I reply,– 

(1.) Then Christ did not obey, for he offered no such prayer. 

(2.) The law of God makes no such demand, either expressly or impliedly. 

(3.) We have no right to believe that all men will be converted in answer to our prayers, unless we have an express or implied promise to that effect. 

(4.) As, therefore, there is no such promise, we are under no obligation to offer such prayer. Nor does the non-conversion of the world imply, that there are no saints in the world who fully obey God’s law. 

21. It does not imply the conversion of any one for whom there is not an express or implied promise in the word of God. The fact that Judas was not converted in answer to Christ’s prayer, does not prove that Christ did not fully obey. 

22. Nor does it imply that all those things which are expressly or impliedly promised, will be granted in answer to our prayers; or, in other words, that we should pray in faith for them, if we are ignorant of the existence or application of those promises. A state of perfect love implies the discharge of all known duty. And nothing strictly speaking can be duty, of which the mind has no knowledge. It cannot, therefore, be our duty to believe a promise of which we are entirely ignorant, or the application of which to any specific object we do not understand. 

If there is sin in such a case as this, it lies in the fact, that the soul neglects to know what it ought to know. But it should always be understood that the sin lies in this neglect to know, and not in the neglect of that of which we have no knowledge. Entire obedience is inconsistent with any present neglect to know the truth; for such neglect is sin. But it is not inconsistent with our failing to do that of which we have no knowledge. James says: “He that knoweth to do good and doeth it not, to him it is sin.” “If ye were blind,” says Christ, “ye should have no sin, but because ye say, We see, therefore your sin remaineth.” 

23. Entire obedience to the divine law does not imply, that others will of course regard our state of mind, and our outward life, as entirely conformed to the law. 

It was insisted and positively believed by the Jews, that Jesus Christ was possessed of a wicked, instead of a holy spirit. Such were their notions of holiness, that they no doubt supposed him to be actuated by any other than the Spirit of God. They especially supposed so on account of his opposition to the current orthodoxy, and to the ungodliness of the religious teachers of the day. Now, who does not see, that when the church is, in a great measure, conformed to the world, a spirit of holiness in any man would certainly lead him to aim the sharpest rebukes at the spirit and life of those in this state, whether in high or low places? And who does not see, that this would naturally result in his being accused of possessing a wicked spirit? And who does not know, that where a religious teacher finds himself under the necessity of attacking a false orthodoxy, he will certainly be hunted, almost as a beast of prey, by the religious teachers of his day, whose authority, influence, and orthodoxy are thus assailed? 

The most violent opposition that I have ever seen manifested to any person, has been manifested by members of the church, and even by some ministers of the gospel, towards those who, I believe, were among the most holy persons I ever knew. I have been shocked, and wounded beyond expression, at the almost fiendish opposition to such persons which I have witnessed. I have several times of late observed, that writers in newspapers were calling for examples of Christian perfection or entire sanctification, or, which is the same thing, of entire obedience to the law of God. Now I would humbly inquire, of what use is it to point the church to examples, so long as they do not know what is, and what is not, implied in entire obedience to moral law? I would ask, are the church agreed among themselves in regard to what constitutes this state? Are any considerable number of ministers agreed among themselves, as to what is implied in a state of entire obedience to the law of God? The church and the ministry are in a great measure in the dark on this subject. Why then call for examples? No man can profess to render this obedience, without being sure to be set at nought as a hypocrite or a self-deceiver. 

24. Nor does it imply exemption from sorrow or mental suffering. 

It was not so with Christ. Nor is it inconsistent with our sorrowing for our own past sins, and sorrowing that we have not now the health, and vigour, and knowledge, and love, that we might have had, if we had sinned less; or sorrow for those around us–sorrow in view of human sinfulness, or suffering. These are all consistent with a state of joyful love to God and man, and indeed are the natural results of it. 

25. Nor is it inconsistent with our living in human society–with mingling in the scenes, and engaging in the affairs of this world, as some have supposed. Hence the absurd and ridiculous notions of papists in retiring to monasteries, and convents–in taking the veil, and, as they say, retiring to a life of devotion. Now I suppose this state of voluntary exclusion from human society, to be utterly inconsistent with any degree of holiness, and a manifest violation of the law of love to our neighbour. 

26. Nor does it imply moroseness of temper and manners. Nothing is further from the truth than this. It is said of Xavier, than whom, perhaps, few holier men have ever lived, that “he was so cheerful as often to be accused of being gay.” Cheerfulness is certainly the result of holy love. And entire obedience no more implies moroseness in this world than it does in heaven. 

In all the discussions I have seen upon the subject of Christian holiness, writers seldom or never raise the distinct inquiry: What does obedience to the law of God imply, and what does it not imply? Instead of bringing everything to this test, they seem to lose sight of it. On the one hand, they include things that the law of God never required of man in his present state. Thus they lay a stumbling-block and a snare for the saints, to keep them in perpetual bondage, supposing that this is the way to keep them humble, to place the standard entirely above their reach. Or, on the other hand, they really abrogate the law, so as to make it no longer binding. Or they so fritter away what is really implied in it, as to leave nothing in its requirements, but a sickly, whimsical, inefficient sentimentalism, or perfectionism, which in its manifestations and results, appears to me to be anything but that which the law of God requires. 

27. It does not imply that we always or ever aim at, or intend to do our duty. That is, it does not imply that the intention always, or ever, terminates on duty as an ultimate end. 

It is our duty to aim at or intend the highest well-being of God and the universe, as an ultimate end, or for its own sake. This is the infinitely valuable end at which we are at all times to aim. It is our duty to aim at this. While we aim at this, we do our duty, but to aim at duty is not doing duty. To intend to do our duty is failing to do our duty. We do not, in this case, intend the thing which it is our duty to intend. Our duty is to intend the good of being. But to intend to do our duty, is only to intend to intend. 

28. Nor does it imply that we always think at the time of its being duty, or of our moral obligation to intend the good of being. This obligation is a first truth, and is always and necessarily assumed by every moral agent, and this assumption or knowledge is a condition of his moral agency. But it is not at all essential to virtue or true obedience to the moral law, that moral obligation should at all times be present to the thoughts as an object of attention. The thing that we are bound to intend is the highest good of God, and of being in general. The good, the valuable, must be before the mind. This must be intended. We are under moral obligation to intend this. But we are not under moral obligation to intend moral obligation, or to intend to fulfil moral obligation, as an ultimate end. Our obligation is a first truth, and necessarily assumed by us at all times, whether it is an object of attention or not, just as causality or liberty is. 

29. Nor does it imply that the rightness or moral character of benevolence is, at all times, the object of the mind’s attention. We may intend the glory of God and the good of our neighbour, without at all times thinking of the moral character of this intention. But the intention is not the less virtuous on this account. The mind unconsciously, but necessarily, assumes the rightness of benevolence, or of willing the good of being, just as it assumes other first truths, without being distinctly conscious of the assumption. First truths are those truths that are universally and necessarily known to every moral agent, and that are, therefore, always and necessarily assumed by him, whatever his theory may be. Among them, are the law of causality–the freedom of moral agents–the intrinsic value of happiness or blessedness–moral obligation to will it for or because of its intrinsic value–the infinite value of God’s well-being, and moral obligation to will it on that account–that to will the good of being is duty, and to comply with moral obligation is right–that selfishness is wrong. These and many such like truths are among the class of first truths of reason. They are always and necessarily taken along with every moral agent, at every moment of his moral agency. They live in his mind as intuitions or assumptions of his reason. He always and necessarily affirms their truth, whether he thinks of them, that is, whether he is conscious of the assumption, or not. It is not, therefore, at all essential to obedience to the law of God, that we should at all times have before our minds the virtuousness or moral character of benevolence. 

30. Nor does obedience to the moral law imply, that the law itself should be, at all times, the object of thought, or of the mind’s attention. The law lies developed in the reason of every moral agent in the form of an idea. It is the idea of that choice or intention which every moral agent is bound to exercise. In other words, the law, as a rule of duty, is a subjective idea always and necessarily developed in the mind of every moral agent. This idea he always and necessarily takes along with him, and he is always and necessarily a law to himself. Nevertheless, this law or idea, is not always the object of the mind’s attention and thought. A moral agent may exercise good-will or love to God and man, without at the time being conscious of thinking, that this love is required of him by the moral law. Nay, if I am not mistaken, the benevolent mind generally exercises benevolence so spontaneously as not, for much of the time, even to think that this love to God is required of him. But this state of mind is not the less virtuous on this account. If the infinite value of God’s well-being and of his infinite goodness constrains me to love him with all my heart, can any one suppose that this is regarded by him as the less virtuous, because I did not wait to reflect, that God commanded me to love him, and that it was my duty to do so? 

The thing upon which the intention must or ought to terminate is the good of being, and not the law that requires me to will it. When I will that end, I will the right end, and this willing is virtue, whether the law be so much as thought of or not. Should it be said that I may will that end for a wrong reason, and, therefore, thus willing it is not virtue; that unless I will it because of my obligation, and intend obedience to moral law, or to God, it is not virtue; I answer, that the objection involves an absurdity and a contradiction. I cannot will the good of God and of being as an ultimate end, for a wrong reason. The reason of the choice and the end chosen are identical, so that if I will the good of being, as an ultimate end, I will it for the right reason. 

Again: to will the good of being, not for its intrinsic value, but because God commands it, and because I am under a moral obligation to will it, is not to will it as an ultimate end. It is willing the will of God, or moral obligation, as an ultimate end, and not the good of being, as an ultimate end. This willing would not be obedience to the moral law. 

Again: It is absurd and a contradiction to say, that I can love God, that is, will his good out of regard to his authority, rather than out of regard to the intrinsic value of his well-being. It is impossible to will God’s good as an end, out of regard to his authority. This is to make his authority the end chosen, for the reason of a choice is identical with the end chosen. Therefore, to will anything for the reason that God requires it, is to will God’s requirement as an ultimate end. I cannot, therefore, love God with any acceptable love, primarily, because he commands it. God never expected to induce his creatures to love him, or to will his good, by commanding them to do so. “The law,” says the apostle, “was not made for a righteous man, but for sinners.” If it be asked, then, “Wherefore serveth the law?” I answer– 

(1.) That the obligation to will good to God exists antecedently to his requiring it. 

(2.) He requires it because it is naturally obligatory. 

(3.) It is impossible that he, being benevolent, should not will that we should be benevolent. 

(4.) His expressed will is only the promulgation of the law of nature. It is rather declaratory than dictatorial. 

(5.) It is a vindication or illustration of his righteousness. 

(6.) It sanctions and rewards love. It cannot, as a mere authority, beget love, but it can encourage and reward it. 

(7.) It can fix the attention on the end commanded, and thus lead to a fuller understanding of the value of that end. In this way, it may convert the soul. 

(8.) It can convince of sin, in case of disobedience. 

(9.) It holds before the mind the standard by which it is to judge itself, and by which it is to be judged. 

But let it be kept in constant remembrance, that to aim at keeping the law as an ultimate end is not keeping it. It is a legal righteousness, and not love. 

31. Obedience to the moral law does not imply, that the mind always, or at any time, intends the right for the sake of the right. This has been so fully shown in a former lecture, that it need not be repeated here. 

32. Nor does it imply, that the benevolent mind always so much as thinks of the rightness of good willing. I surely may will the highest well-being of God and of men as an end, or from a regard to its intrinsic value, and not at the time, or at least at all times, be conscious of having any reference to the rightness of this love. It is, however, none the less virtuous on this account. I behold the infinite value of the well-being of God, and the infinite value of the immortal soul of my neighbour. My soul is fired with the view. I instantly consecrate my whole being to this end, and perhaps do not so much as think, at the time, either of moral obligation, or of the rightness of the choice. I choose the end with a single eye to its intrinsic value. Will any one say that this is not virtue?–that this is not true and real obedience to the law of God? 

33. Obedience to the moral law does not imply that we should practically treat all interests that are of equal value according to their value. For example, the precept, “Love thy neighbour as thyself,” cannot mean that I am to take equal care of my own soul, and the soul of every other human being. This were impossible. Nor does it mean that I should take the same care and oversight of my own, and of all the families of the earth. Nor that I should divide what little of property, or time, or talent I have, equally among all mankind. This were– 

(1.) Impossible. 

(2.) Uneconomical for the universe. More good will result to the universe by each individual’s giving his attention particularly to the promotion of those interests that are within his reach, and that are so under his influence that he possesses particular advantages for promoting them. Every interest is to be esteemed according to its relative value; but our efforts to promote particular interests should depend upon our relations and capacity to promote them. Some interests of great value we may be under no obligation to promote, for the reason that we have no ability to promote them, while we may be under obligation to promote interests of vastly less value, for the reason, that we are able to promote them. We are to aim at promoting those interests that we can most surely and extensively promote, but always in a manner that shall not interfere with others promoting other interests, according to their relative value. Every man is bound to promote his own, and the salvation of his family, not because they belong to self, but because they are valuable in themselves, and because they are particularly committed to him, as being directly within his reach. This is a principle everywhere assumed in the government of God, and I wish it to be distinctly borne in mind, as we proceed in our investigations, as it will, on the one hand, prevent misapprehension, and, on the other, avoid the necessity of circumlocution, when we wish to express the same idea; the true intent and meaning of the moral law, no doubt, is, that every interest or good known to a moral being shall be esteemed according to its intrinsic value, and that, in our efforts to promote good, we are to aim at securing the greatest practicable amount, and to bestow our efforts where, and as it appears from our circumstances and relations, we can accomplish the greatest good. This ordinarily can be done, beyond all question, only by each one attending to the promotion of those particular interests which are most within the reach of his influence.

The Rev. CHARLES G. FINNEY’S SYSTEMATIC THEOLOGY (1851)

WHAT IS IMPLIED IN OBEDIENCE TO THE MORAL LAW. 

It has been shown that the sum and spirit of the whole law is properly expressed in one word–love. It has also been shown, that this love is benevolence or good willing; that it consists in choosing the highest good of God and of universal being for its own intrinsic value, in a spirit of entire consecration to this as the ultimate end of existence. Although the whole law is fulfilled in one word–love, yet there are many things implied in the state of mind expressed by this term. It is, therefore, indispensable to a right understanding of this subject, that we inquire into the characteristics or attributes of this love. We must keep steadily in mind certain truths of mental philosophy. I will, therefore– 

I. Call attention to certain facts in mental philosophy which are revealed to us in consciousness: and– 

II. Point out the attributes of that love which constitutes obedience to the law of God; and, as I proceed, call attention to those states of the intelligence and of the sensibility, and also to the course of outward conduct implied in the existence of this love in any mind, implied in it as necessarily resulting from it, as an effect does from its cause. 

I. Call attention again to certain facts in mental philosophy as they are revealed in consciousness. 

1. Moral agents possess intellect, or the faculty of knowledge. 

2. They also possess sensibility, or sensitivity, or in other words, the faculty or susceptibility of feeling. 

3. They also possess will or the power of choosing or refusing in every case of moral obligation. 

4. These primary faculties are so correlated to each other, that the intellect or the sensibility may control the will, or the will may, in a certain sense, control them. That is, the mind is free to choose in accordance with the demands of the intellect which is the law-giving faculty, or with the desires and impulses of the sensibility, or to control and direct them both. The will can directly control the attention of the intellect, and consequently its perceptions, thoughts, &c. It can indirectly control the states of the sensibility, or feeling faculty, by controlling the perceptions and thoughts of the intellect. We also know from consciousness, as was shown in a former lecture, that the voluntary muscles of the body are directly controlled by the will, and that the law which obliges the attention, the feelings, and the actions of the body to obey the decisions of the will, is physical law, or the law of necessity. The attention of the intellect and the outward actions are controlled directly, and the feelings indirectly, by the decisions of the will. The will can either command or obey. It can suffer itself to be enslaved by the impulses of the sensibility, or it can assert its sovereignty and control them. The will is not influenced by either the intellect or the sensibility, by the law of necessity or force; so that the will can always resist either the demands of the intelligence, or the impulses of the sensibility. But while they cannot lord it over the will, through the agency of any law of force, the will has the aid of the law of necessity or force by which to control them. 

Again: We are conscious of affirming to ourselves our obligation to obey the law of the intellect rather than the impulses of the sensibility; that to act virtuously we must act rationally, or intelligently, and not give ourselves up to the blind impulses of our feelings. 

Now, inasmuch as the love required by the moral law consists in choice, willing, intention, as before repeatedly shown; and inasmuch as choice, willing, intending, controls the states of the intellect and the outward actions directly, by a law of necessity, and by the same law controls the feelings or states of the sensibility indirectly, it follows that certain states of the intellect and of the sensibility, and also certain outward actions, must be implied in the existence of the love which the law of God requires. I say, implied in it, not as making a part of it, but as necessarily resulting from it. The thoughts, opinions, judgments, feelings, and outward actions must be moulded and modified by the state of the heart or will. 

Here it is important to remark, that, in common language, the same word is often used to express either an action or attitude of the will, or a state of the sensibility, or both. This is true of all the terms that represent what are called the Christian graces or virtues, or those various modifications of virtue of which Christians are conscious, and which appear in their life and temper. Of this truth we shall be constantly reminded as we proceed in our investigations, for we shall find illustrations of it at every step of our progress. 

Before I proceed to point out the attributes of benevolence, it is important to remark, that all the moral attributes of God and of all holy beings, are only attributes of benevolence. Benevolence is a term that comprehensively expresses them all. God is love. This term expresses comprehensively God’s whole moral character. This love, as we have repeatedly seen, is benevolence. Benevolence is good-willing, or the choice of the highest good of God and the universe, as an end. But from this comprehensive statement, accurate though it be, we are apt to receive very inadequate conceptions of what really belongs to, as implied in, benevolence. To say that love is the fulfilling of the whole law; that benevolence is the whole of true religion; that the whole duty of man to God and his neighbour, is expressed in one word, love–these statements, though true, are so comprehensive as to need with all minds much amplification and explanation. Many things are implied in love or benevolence. By this is intended, that benevolence needs to be viewed under various aspects and in various relations, and its nature considered in the various relations in which it is called to act. Benevolence is an ultimate intention, or the choice of an ultimate end. But if we suppose that this is all that is implied in benevolence, we shall egregiously err. Unless we inquire into the nature of the end which benevolence chooses, and the means by which it seeks to accomplish that end, we shall understand but little of the import of the word benevolence. Benevolence has many attributes or characteristics. These must all harmonize in the selection of its end, and in its efforts to realize it. By this is intended that benevolence is not a blind, but the most intelligent, choice. It is the choice of the best possible end in obedience to the demand of the reason and of God, and implies the choice of the best possible means to secure this end. Both the end and the means are chosen in obedience to the law of God, and of reason. An attribute is a permanent quality of a thing. The attributes of benevolence are those permanent qualities which belong to its very nature. Benevolence is not blind, but intelligent choice. It is the choice of the highest well-being of moral agents. It seeks this end by means suited to the nature of moral agents. Hence wisdom, justice, mercy, truth, holiness, and many other attributes, as we shall see, are essential elements, or attributes, of benevolence. To understand what true benevolence is, we must inquire into its attributes. Not everything that is called love has at all the nature of benevolence. Nor has all that is called benevolence any title to that appellation. There are various kinds of love. Natural affection is called love. The affection that exists between the sexes is also called love. Our preference of certain kinds of diet is called love. Hence we say we love fruit, vegetables, meat, milk, &c. Benevolence is also called love, and is the kind of love, beyond all question, required by the law of God. But there is more than one state of mind that is called benevolence. There is a constitutional or phrenological benevolence, which is often mistaken for, and confounded with, the benevolence which constitutes virtue. This so called benevolence is in truth only an imposing form of selfishness; nevertheless it is called benevolence. Many of its manifestations are like those of true benevolence. Care, therefore, should be taken, in giving religious instruction, to distinguish accurately between them. Benevolence, let it be remembered, is the obedience of the will to the law of reason and of God. It is willing good as an end, for its own sake, and not to gratify self. Selfishness consists in the obedience of the will to the impulses of the sensibility. It is a spirit of self-gratification. The will seeks to gratify the desires and propensities, for the pleasure of the gratification. Self-gratification is sought as an end, and as the supreme end. It is preferred to the claims of God and the good of being. Phrenological, or constitutional benevolence, is only obedience to the impulse of the sensibility–a yielding to a feeling of compassion. It is only an effort to gratify a desire. It is, therefore, as really selfishness, as is an effort to gratify any constitutional desire whatever. 

It is impossible to get a just idea of what constitutes obedience to the divine law, and what is implied in it, without considering attentively the various attributes or aspects of benevolence, properly so called. Upon this discussion we are about to enter. But before I commence the enumeration and definition of these attributes, it is important further to remark, that the moral attributes of God, as revealed in his works, providence, and word, throw much light upon the subject before us. Also the many precepts of the Bible, and the developements of benevolence therein revealed, will assist us much, as we proceed in our inquiries upon this important subject. As the Bible expressly affirms that love comprehends the whole character of God–that it is the whole that the law requires of man–that the end of the commandment is charity or love–we may be assured that every form of true virtue is only a modification of love or benevolence, that is, that every state of mind required by the Bible, and recognized as virtue, is, in its last analysis, resolvable into love or benevolence. In other words, every virtue is only benevolence viewed under certain aspects, or in certain relations. In other words still, it is only one of the elements, peculiarities, characteristics, or attributes of benevolence. This is true of God’s moral attributes. They are, as has been said, only attributes of benevolence. They are only the essential qualities that belong to the very nature of benevolence which are manifested and brought into activity wherever benevolence is brought into certain circumstances and relations. Benevolence is just, merciful, &c. Such is its nature, that in appropriate circumstances these qualities, together with many others, will manifest themselves in executive acts.* This is and must be true of every holy being.

*A recent writer has spoken contemptuously of “being,” as he calls it, “sophisticated into believing, or rather saying, that faith is love, justice is love, humility is love.” I would earnestly recommend to that and kindred writers, the study of the thirteenth chapter of the first Corinthians. They will there find a specimen of what they please to call sophistry. If it is “sophistry,” or “excessive generalization,” as other writers seem to regard it, to represent love as possessing the attributes which comprise the various forms of virtue, it surely is the “generalization” and “sophistry” of inspiration. Generalization was the great peculiarity of Christ’s preaching. His epitomizing all the commandments of God, and resolving the whole of obedience into love, is an illustration of this, and in no other way could he have exposed the delusion of those who obeyed the letter, but overlooked and outraged the spirit of the divine commandments. The same was true of the apostles, and so it is of every preacher of the gospel. Every outward act is only the expression of an inward voluntary state of mind. To understand ourselves or others, we must conceive clearly of the true spirit of moral law, and of heart-obedience to it.

II. I will now proceed to point out the attributes of that love which constitutes obedience to the law of God. 

As I proceed I will call attention to the states of the intellect and of the sensibility, and also to the courses of outward conduct implied in the existence of this love in any mind–implied in its existence as necessarily resulting from it by the law of cause and effect. These attributes are– 

1. Voluntariness. That is to say, it is a phenomenon of the will. There is a state of the sensibility often expressed by the term love. Love may, and often does exist, as every one knows, in the form of a mere feeling or emotion. The term is often used to express the emotion of fondness or attachment, as distinct from a voluntary state of mind, or a choice of the will. This emotion or feeling, as we are all aware, is purely an involuntary state of mind. Because it is a phenomenon of the sensibility, and of course a passive state of mind, it has in itself no moral character. The law of God requires voluntary love or good-will, as has been repeatedly shown. This love consists in choice, intention. It is choosing the highest well-being of God and the universe of sentient beings as an end. Of course voluntariness must be one of its characteristics. The word benevolence expresses this idea. 

If it consist in choice, if it be a phenomenon of the will, it must control the thoughts and states of the sensibility, as well as the outward action. This love, then, not only consists in a state of consecration to God and the universe, but also implies deep emotions of love to God and man. Though a phenomenon of the will, it implies the existence of all those feelings of love and affection to God and man, that necessarily result from the consecration of the heart or will to their highest well-being. It also implies all that outward course of life that necessarily flows from a state of will consecrated to this end. Let it be borne in mind, that where these feelings do not arise in the sensibility, and where this course of life is not, there the true love or voluntary consecration to God and the universe required by the law, is not. Those follow from this by a law of necessity. Those, that is, feelings or emotions of love, and a correct outward life, may exist without this voluntary love, as I shall have occasion to show in its proper place; but this love cannot exist without those, as they follow from it by a law of necessity. These emotions will vary in their strength, as constitution and circumstances vary, but exist they must, in some sensible degree, whenever the will is in a benevolent attitude. 

2. Liberty is an attribute of this love. The mind is free and spontaneous in its exercise. It makes this choice when it has the power at every moment to choose self-gratification as an end. Of this every moral agent is conscious. It is a free, and therefore a responsible, choice. 

3. Intelligence. That is, the mind makes choice of this end intelligently. It not only knows what it chooses, and why it chooses, but also that it chooses in accordance with the dictates of the intellect, and the law of God; that the end is worthy of being chosen, and that for this reason the intellect demands that it should be chosen; and also, that for its own intrinsic value it is chosen. 

Because voluntariness, liberty, and intelligence are natural attributes of this love, therefore, the following are its moral attributes. 

4. Virtue is an attribute of it. Virtue is a term that expresses the moral character of benevolence; it is moral rightness. Moral rightness is moral perfection, righteousness, or uprightness. The term marks or designates its relation to moral law, and expresses its conformity to it. 

In the exercise of this love or choice, the mind is conscious of uprightness, or of being conformed to moral law or moral obligation. In other words, it is conscious of being virtuous or holy; of being like God; of loving what ought to be loved, and of consecration to the right end. 

Because this choice is in accordance with the demands of the intellect, therefore, the mind in its exercise, is conscious of the approbation of that power of the intellect which we call conscience. The conscience must approve this love, choice, or intention. 

Again: Because the conscience approves of this choice, therefore, there is and must be a corresponding state of the sensibility. There is and must be in the sensibility a feeling of happiness or satisfaction, a feeling of complacency or delight in the love that is in the heart or will. This love, then, always produces self-approbation in the conscience, and a felt satisfaction in the sensibility, and these feelings are often very acute and joyous, insomuch that the soul, in the exercise of this love of the heart, is sometimes led to rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory. This state of mind does not always and necessarily amount to joy. Much depends in this respect on the clearness of the intellectual views, upon the state of the sensibility, and upon the manifestation of Divine approbation to the soul. But where peace, or approbation of conscience, and consequently a peaceful state of the sensibility are not, this love is not. They are connected with it by a law of necessity, and must of course appear on the field of consciousness where this love exists. These, then, are implied in the love that constitutes obedience to the law of God. Conscious peace of mind, and conscious joy in God must be where true love to God exists. 

5. Disinterestedness is another attribute of this love. By disinterestedness, it is not intended that the mind takes no interest in the object loved, for it does take a supreme interest in it. But this term expresses the mind’s choice of an end for its own sake, and not merely upon condition that the good belongs to self. This love is disinterested in the sense that the highest well-being of God and the universe is chosen, not upon condition of its relation to self, but for its own intrinsic and infinite value. It is this attribute particularly that distinguishes this love from selfish love. Selfish love makes the relation of good to self the condition of choosing it. The good of God and of the universe, if chosen at all, is only chosen as a means or condition of promoting the highest good of self. But this love does not make good to self its end; but good to God and being in general, is its end. 

As disinterestedness is an attribute of this love it does not seek its own, but the good of others. “Charity (love) seeketh not her own.” It grasps in its comprehensive embrace the good of being in general, and of course, of necessity, secures a corresponding outward life and inward feeling. The intellect will be employed in devising ways and means for the promotion of its end. The sensibility will be tremblingly alive to the good of all and of each, will rejoice in the good of others as in its own, and will grieve at the misery of others as in its own. It “will rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep.” There will not, cannot be envy at the prosperity of others, but unfeigned joy, joy as real and often as exquisite as in its own prosperity. Benevolence enjoys everybody’s good things, while selfishness is too envious at the good things of others even to enjoy its own. There is a Divine economy in benevolence. Each benevolent soul not only enjoys his own good things, but also enjoys the good things of all others so far as he knows their happiness. He drinks at the river of God’s pleasure. He not only rejoices in doing good to others, but also in beholding their enjoyment of good things. He joys in God’s joy and in the joy of angels and of saints. He also rejoices in the good things of all sentient existences. He is happy in beholding the pleasure of the beasts of the field, the fowls of the air, and the fishes of the sea. He sympathizes with all joy and all suffering known to him; nor is his sympathy with the suffering of others a feeling of unmingled pain. It is a real luxury to sympathize in the woes of others. He would not be without this sympathy. It so accords with his sense of propriety and fitness, that, mingled with the painful emotion, there is a sweet feeling of self-approbation; so that a benevolent sympathy with the woes of others is by no means inconsistent with happiness, and with perfect happiness. God has this sympathy. He often expresses and otherwise manifests it. There is, indeed, a mysterious and an exquisite luxury in sharing the woes of others. God and angels, and all holy beings know what it is. Where this result of love is not manifested, there love itself is not. Envy at the prosperity, influence, or good of others, the absence of sensible joy in view of the good enjoyed by others, and of sympathy with the sufferings of others, prove conclusively that this love does not exist. There is an expansiveness, an ampleness of embrace, a universality, and a Divine disinterestedness in this love, that necessarily manifests itself in the liberal devising of liberal things for Zion, and in the copious outpourings of the floods of sympathetic feeling, both in joys and sorrows, when suitable occasions present themselves before the mind. 

6. Impartiality is another attribute of this love. By this term is not intended, that the mind is indifferent to the character of him who is happy or miserable; that it would be as well pleased to see the wicked as the righteous eternally and perfectly blessed. But it is intended that, other things being equal, it is the intrinsic value of their well-being which is alone regarded by the mind. Other things being equal, it matters not to whom the good belongs. It is no respecter of persons. The good of being is its end, and it seeks to promote every interest according to its relative value. Selfish love is partial. It seeks to promote self-interest first, and secondarily those interests that sustain such a relation to self as will at least indirectly promote the gratification of self. Selfish love has its favourites, its prejudices, unreasonable and ridiculous. Colour, family, nation, and many other things of like nature, modify it. But benevolence knows neither Jew nor Greek, neither bond nor free, white nor black, Barbarian, Scythian, European, Asiatic, African, nor American, but accounts all men as men, and by virtue of their common manhood, calls every man a brother, and seeks the interest of all and of each. Impartiality, being an attribute of this love, will of course manifest itself in the outward life and in the temper and spirit of its subject. This love can have no fellowship with those absurd and ridiculous prejudices that are so often rife among nominal Christians. Nor will it cherish them for a moment in the sensibility of him who exercises it. Benevolence recognizes no privileged classes on the one hand, nor proscribed classes on the other. It secures in the sensibility an utter loathing of those discriminations, so odiously manifested and boasted of, and which are founded exclusively in a selfish state of the will. The fact that a man is a man, and not that he is of our party, of our complexion, or of our town, state, or nation–that he is a creature of God, that he is capable of virtue and happiness, these are the considerations that are seized upon by this divinely impartial love. It is the intrinsic value of his interests, and not that they are the interests of one connected with self, that the benevolent mind regards. 

But here it is important to repeat the remark, that the economy of benevolence demands, that where two interests are, in themselves considered, of equal value, in order to secure the greatest amount of good, each one should bestow his efforts where they can be bestowed to the greatest advantage. For example: every man sustains such relations that he can accomplish more good by seeking to promote the interest and happiness of certain persons rather than of others: his family, his kindred, his companions, his immediate neighbours, and those to whom, in the providence of God, he sustains such relations as to give him access to them, and influence over them. It is not unreasonable, it is not partial, but reasonable and impartial, to bestow our efforts more directly upon them. Therefore, while benevolence regards every interest according to its relative value, it reasonably puts forth its efforts in the direction where there is a prospect of accomplishing the most good. This, I say, is not partiality, but impartiality; for, be it understood, it is not the particular persons to whom good can be done, but the amount of good that can be accomplished, that directs the efforts of benevolence. It is not because my family is my own, nor because their well-being is, of course, more valuable in itself than that of my neighbours’ families, but because my relations afford me higher facilities for doing them good, I am under particular obligation to aim first at promoting their good. Hence the apostle says: “If any man provide not for his own, especially for those of his own household, he hath denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel.” Strictly speaking, benevolence esteems every known good according to its intrinsic and relative value; but practically treats every interest according to the perceived probability of securing on the whole the highest amount of good. This is a truth of great practical importance. It is developed in the experience and observation of every day and hour. It is manifest in the conduct of God and of Christ, of apostles and martyrs. It is everywhere assumed in the precepts of the Bible, and everywhere manifested in the history of benevolent effort. Let it be understood, then, that impartiality, as an attribute of benevolence, does not imply that its effort to do good will not be modified by relations and circumstances. But, on the contrary, this attribute implies, that the efforts to secure the great end of benevolence, to wit, the greatest amount of good to God and the universe, will be modified by those relations and circumstances that afford the highest advantages for doing good. 

The impartiality of benevolence causes it always to lay supreme stress upon God’s interests, because his well-being is of infinite value, and of course benevolence must be supreme to him. Benevolence, being impartial love, of course accounts God’s interests and well-being, as of infinitely greater value than the aggregate of all other interests. Benevolence regards our neighbour’s interests as our own, simply because they are in their intrinsic value as our own. Benevolence, therefore, is always supreme to God and equal to man. 

7. Universality is another attribute of this love. Benevolence chooses the highest good of being in general. It excludes none from its regard; but on the contrary embosoms all in its ample embrace. But by this it is not intended, that it practically seeks to promote the good of every individual. It would if it could; but it seeks the highest practicable amount of good. The interest of every individual is estimated according to its intrinsic value, whatever the circumstances or character of each may be. But character and relations may and must modify the manifestations of benevolence, or its efforts in seeking to promote this end. A wicked character, and governmental relations and consideration, may forbid benevolence to seek the good of some. Nay, they may demand that positive misery shall be inflicted on some, as a warning to others to beware of their destructive ways. By universality, as an attribute of benevolence, is intended, that good-will is truly exercised towards all sentient beings, whatever their character and relations may be; and that, when the higher good of the greater number does not forbid it, the happiness of all and of each will be pursued with a degree of stress equal to their relative value, and the prospect of securing each interest. Enemies as well as friends, strangers and foreigners as well as relations and immediate neighbours will be enfolded in its sweet embrace. It is the state of mind required by Christ in the truly divine precept, “I say unto you, Love your enemies, pray for them that hate you, and do good unto them that despitefully use and persecute you.” This attribute of benevolence is gloriously conspicuous in the character of God. His love to sinners alone accounts for their being to-day out of perdition. His aiming to secure the highest good of the greatest number, is illustrated by the display of his glorious justice in the punishment of the wicked. His universal care for all ranks and conditions of sentient beings manifested in his works and providence, beautifully and gloriously illustrates the truth, that “his tender mercies are over all his works.” 

It is easy to see that universality must be a modification or attribute of true benevolence. It consists in good-willing, that is, in choosing the highest good of being as such, and for its own sake. Of course it must, to be consistent with itself, seek the good of all and of each, so far as the good of each is consistent with the greatest good upon the whole. Benevolence not only wills and seeks the good of moral beings, but also the good of every sentient existence, from the minutest animalcule to the highest order of beings. It of course produces a state of the sensibility tremblingly alive to all happiness and to all pain. It is pained at the agony of an insect, and rejoices in its joy. God does this, and all holy beings do this. Where this sympathy with the joys and sorrows of universal being is not, there benevolence is not. Observe, good is its end; where this is promoted by the proper means, the feelings are gratified. Where evil is witnessed, the benevolent spirit deeply and necessarily sympathizes.

The Rev. CHARLES G. FINNEY’S SYSTEMATIC THEOLOGY (1851)

WHAT IS IMPLIED IN OBEDIENCE TO THE LAW OF GOD. 

Efficiency is another attribute or characteristic of benevolence. Benevolence consists in choice, intention. Now we know from consciousness that choice or intention constitutes the mind’s deepest source or power of action. If I honestly intend a thing, I cannot but make efforts to accomplish that which I intend, provided that I believe the thing possible. If I choose an end, this choice must and will energize to secure its end. When benevolence is the supreme choice, preference, or intention of the soul, it is plainly impossible that it should not produce efforts to secure its end. It must cease to exist, or manifest itself in exertions to secure its end, as soon as, and whenever the intelligence deems it wise to do so. If the will has yielded to the intelligence in the choice of an end, it will certainly obey the intelligence in pursuit of that end. Choice, intention, is the cause of all the outward activity of moral agents. They have all chosen some end, either their own gratification, or the highest good of being; and all the busy bustle of this world’s teeming population, is nothing else than choice or intention seeking to compass its end. 

Efficiency, therefore, is an attribute of benevolent intention. It must, it will, it does energize in God, in angels, in saints on earth and in heaven. It was this attribute of benevolence, that led God to give his only begotten Son, and that led the Son to give himself, “that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” 

If love is efficient in producing outward action, and efficient in producing inward feelings; it is efficient to wake up the intellect, and set the world of thought in action to devise ways and means for realizing its end. It wields all the infinite natural attributes of God. It is the mainspring that moves all heaven. It is the mighty power that is heaving the mass of mind, and rocking the moral world like a smothered volcano. Look to the heavens above. It was benevolence that hung them out. It is benevolence that sustains those mighty rolling orbs in their courses. It was good-will endeavouring to realize its end that at first put forth creative power. The same power, for the same reason, still energizes, and will continue to energize for the realization of its end, so long as God is benevolent. And O! what a glorious thought, that infinite benevolence is wielding, and will for ever wield, infinite natural attributes for the promotion of good. No mind but an infinite one can begin to conceive of the amount of good that Jehovah will secure. O blessed, glorious thought! But it is, it must be a reality, as surely as God and the universe exist. It is no vain imagination; it is one of the most certain, as well as the most glorious, truths in the universe. Mountains of granite are but vapour in comparison with it. But will the truly benevolent on earth and in heaven sympathize with God? The power that energizes in him, energizes in them. One principle animates and moves them all, and that principle is love, good-will to universal being. Well may our souls cry out, Amen, go on, God-speed the work; let this mighty power heave and wield universal mind, until all the ills of earth shall be put away, and until all that can be made holy are clothed in the garments of everlasting gladness. 

Since benevolence is necessarily, from its very nature, active and efficient in putting forth efforts to secure its end, and since its end is the highest good of being, it follows that all who are truly religious will, and must, from the very nature of true religion, be active in endeavouring to promote the good of being. While effort is possible to a Christian, it is as natural to him as his breath. He has within him the very main-spring of activity, a heart set on the promotion of the highest good of universal being. While he has life and activity at all, it will, and it must, be directed to this end. Let this never be forgotten. An idle, an inactive, inefficient Christian is a misnomer. Religion is an essentially active principle, and when and while it exists, it must exercise and manifest itself. It is not merely good desire, but it is good-willing. Men may have desires, and hope and live on them, without making efforts to realize their desires. They may desire without action. If their will is active, their life must be. If they really choose an ultimate end, this choice must manifest itself. The sinner does and must manifest his selfish choice, and so likewise must the saint manifest his benevolence. 

9. Penitence must be a characteristic of benevolence, in one who has been a sinner. Penitence, as we have briefly said, and shall more fully illustrate hereafter, is not a phenomenon of the sensibility, but of the will. Every form of virtue must, of necessity, be a phenomenon of the will, and not of the intellect, or of the sensibility alone. This word is commonly used also to designate a certain phenomenon of the sensibility, to wit, sorrow for sin. This sorrow, though called penitence, is not penitence regarded as a virtue. Evangelical penitence consists in a peculiar attitude of the will toward our own past sins. It is the will’s continued rejection of, and opposition to, our past sins–the will’s aversion to them. This rejection, opposition, and aversion, is penitence, and is always a peculiarity in the history of those benevolent minds that have been sinners. This change in the will, most deeply and permanently affects the sensibility. It will keep the intelligence thoroughly awake to the nature, character, and tendencies of sin, to its unspeakable guilt, and to all its intrinsic odiousness. This will, of course, break up the fountains of the great deep of feeling; the sensibility will often pour forth a torrent of sorrow in view of past sin; and all its loathing and indignation will be kindled against it when it is beheld. This attribute of benevolence will secure confession and restitution, that is, these must necessarily follow from genuine repentance. If the soul forsakes sin, it will of course make all possible reparation, where it has done an injury. Benevolence seeks the good of all, of course it will and must seek to repair whatever injury it has inflicted on any. 

Repentance will, and must, secure a God-justifying and self-condemning spirit. It will take all shame and all blame to self, and fully acquit God of blame. This deep self-abasement is always and necessarily a characteristic of the true penitent; where this is not, true repentance is not. 

It should, however, be here remarked, that feelings of self-loathing, of self-abasement, and of abhorrence of sin, depend upon the view which the intelligence gains of the nature, and guilt, and aggravation of sin. In a sensible and manifested degree, it will always exist when the will has honestly turned or repented; but this feeling I have described gains strength as the soul, from time to time, gains a deeper insight into the nature, guilt, and tendencies of sin. It is probable that repentance, as an emotion, will always gain strength, not only in this world but in heaven. Can it be that the saints can in heaven reflect upon their past abuse of the Saviour, and not feel their sorrow stirred within them? Nor will this diminish their happiness. Godly sorrow is not unhappiness. There is a luxury in the exercise. Remorse cannot be known in heaven, but godly sorrow, I think, must exist among the saints for ever. However this may be in heaven, it certainly is implied in repentance on earth. This attribute must, and will, secure an outward life conformed to the law of love. There may be an outward morality without benevolence, but there cannot be benevolence without corresponding purity of outward life. 

10. Another characteristic or attribute of benevolence is Faith. Evangelical faith is by no means, as some have supposed, a phenomenon of the intelligence. The term, however, is often used to express states both of the sensibility and of the intellect. Conviction, or a strong perception of truth, such as banishes doubt, is, in common language, called faith or belief, and this without any reference to the state of the will, whether it embraces or resists the truth perceived. But, certainly, this conviction cannot be evangelical faith. In this belief, there is no virtue; it is essentially but the faith of devils. The term is often used, in common language, to express a mere feeling of assurance, or confidence. Faith, to be a virtue, must be a phenomenon of the will. It must be an attribute of benevolence or love. Faith, as an attribute of benevolence, is that quality that inclines it to trust in veracity and truth as the necessary condition of securing the good of being. It is a first truth, that truth, and obedience to truth, are conditions of the good of being. Hence, in the very act of becoming benevolent, the will embraces and commits itself to truth. The reason also affirms the veracity of God. Hence, in becoming benevolent, the mind commits itself to the veracity of God. Benevolence, be it remembered, is an intelligent choice, in obedience to the law of God. Of course its very nature implies confidence in God. Such is its nature that it will, of course, embrace and be influenced by the revealed will of God, and receive this revealed will as law, in all its efforts to secure its end. This quality reveals itself in specific acts. There is an important distinction between faith, as an attribute of benevolence, and faith as a volition, or special act. The first is the cause of the last. Faith, as an attribute, is a quality that belongs to the nature of benevolence. This quality reveals itself in particular acts, or in embracing and committing itself to the testimony and will of God, in resting in the promises and declarations of God, and in the word and work of Christ. It trusts in God, this is its nature. As has been said, in the very act of becoming benevolent, the mind commits itself to truth, and to the God of truth. It obeys the law of the intellect in the act of choosing the good of being, as an ultimate end. The intellect affirms the veracity of God, and the relations of this veracity and of truth to the good of being. Hence confidence in God belongs to the very nature of benevolence. As confidence in God is an attribute of benevolence, it will, of course, employ the intellect to ascertain the truth and will of God, and put forth appropriate expressions of confidence, in specific acts, as new truths shall be discovered. Particular acts of confidence in God, or in others, or in particular truths, are executive acts, and efforts to secure the end of benevolence. It also implies that state of the sensibility which is called faith. Both the state of the intellect and the state of the sensibility just expressed are implied in faith, though neither of them makes any part of it. Faith always begets a realizing state of the sensibility. The intellect sees the truth clearly, and the sensibility feels it deeply, in proportion to the strength of the intellectual perception. But the clearest possible perception, and the deepest possible felt assurance of the truth, may consist with a state of the utmost opposition of the will to truth. But this cannot be trust, confidence, faith. The damned in hell, no doubt, see the truth clearly, and have a feeling of the utmost assurance of the truth of Christianity, but they have no faith. 

Faith, then, must certainly be a phenomenon of the will, and must be a modification, or attribute, of benevolence. It is good-will or benevolence considered in its relations to the truth of God. It is good-will to God, manifested by confiding in his veracity and faithfulness. It cannot be too distinctly borne in mind, that every modification or phase of virtue is only benevolence, existing in certain relations, or good will to God and the universe, manifesting itself in the various circumstances and relations in which it is called to act. 

11. Complacency in holiness or moral excellence, is another attribute of benevolence. This consists in benevolence contemplated in its relations to holy beings. 

This term also expresses both a state of the intelligence and of the sensibility. Moral agents are so constituted, that they necessarily approve of moral worth or excellence; and when even sinners behold right character, or moral goodness, they are compelled to respect and approve it, by a law of their intelligence. This they not unfrequently regard as evidence of goodness in themselves. But this is doubtless just as common in hell as is it on earth. The veriest sinners on earth or in hell, have, by the unalterable constitution of their nature, the necessity imposed upon them, of paying intellectual homage to moral excellence. When a moral agent is intensely contemplating moral excellence, and his intellectual approbation is emphatically pronounced, the natural, and often the necessary result, is a corresponding feeling of complacency or delight in the sensibility. But this being altogether an involuntary state of mind, has no moral character. Complacency, as a phenomenon of will, consists in willing the highest actual blessedness of the holy being in particular, as a good in itself, and upon condition of his moral excellence. 

This attribute of benevolence is the cause of a complacent state of the sensibility. It is true, that feelings of complacency may exist, when complacency of will does not exist. But complacency of feeling surely will exist, when complacency of will exists. Complacency of will implies complacency of conscience, or the approbation of the intelligence. When there is a complacency of intelligence and of will, there must follow, of course, complacency of the sensibility. 

It is highly worthy of observation here, that this complacency of feeling is that which is generally termed love to God and to the saints, in the common language of Christians, and often in the popular language of the Bible. It is a vivid and pleasant state of the sensibility, and very noticeable by consciousness, of course. Indeed, it is perhaps the general usage now to call this phenomenon of the sensibility, love, and for want of just discrimination, to speak of it as constituting religion. Many seem to suppose that this feeling of delight in, and fondness for, God, is the love required by the moral law. They are conscious of not being voluntary in it, as well they may be. They judge of their religious state, not by the end for which they live, that is, by their choice or intention, but by their emotions. If they find themselves strongly exercised with emotions of love to God, they look upon themselves as in a state well-pleasing to God. But if their feelings or emotions of love are not active, they of course judge themselves to have little or no religion. It is remarkable to what extent religion is regarded as a phenomenon of the sensibility, and as consisting in mere feelings. So common is it, indeed, that almost uniformly, when professed Christians speak of their religion, they speak of their feelings, or the state of their sensibility, instead of speaking of their conscious consecration to God, and the good of being. 

It is also somewhat common for them to speak of their views of Christ, and of truth, in a manner that shows, that they regard the states of the intellect as constituting a part, at least, of their religion. It is of great importance that just views should prevail among Christians upon this momentous subject. Virtue, or religion, as has been repeatedly said, must be a phenomenon of the will. The attribute of benevolence which we are considering, that is, complacency of will in God, is the most common light in which the scriptures present it, and also the most common form in which it lies revealed on the field of consciousness. The scriptures often assign the goodness of God as a reason for loving him, and Christians are conscious of having much regard to his goodness in their love to him; I mean in their good-will to him. They will good to him, and ascribe all praise and glory to him, upon the condition that he deserves it. Of this they are conscious. Now, as was shown in a former lecture, in their love or good will to God, they do not regard his goodness as the fundamental reason for willing good to him. Although his goodness is that, which, at the time, most strongly impresses their minds, yet it must be that the intrinsic value of his well-being is assumed, and had in view by them, or they would no sooner will good than evil to him. In willing his good they must assume its intrinsic value to him, as the fundamental reason for willing it; and his goodness as a secondary reason or condition; but they are conscious of being much influenced in willing his good in particular, by a regard to his goodness. Should you ask the Christian why he loved God, or why he exercised good-will to him, he would probably reply, it is because God is good. But, suppose he should be further asked, why he willed good rather than evil to God; he would say, because good is good or valuable to him. Or, if he returned the same answer as before, to wit, because God is good, he would give this answer, only because he could think it impossible for any one not to assume and to know, that good is willed instead of evil, because of its intrinsic value. The fact is, the intrinsic value of well-being is necessarily taken along with the mind, and always assumed by it, as a first truth. When a virtuous being is perceived, this first truth being spontaneously and necessarily assumed, the mind thinks only of the secondary reason or condition, or the virtue of the being in willing good to him. 

The philosophy of the heart’s complacency in God may be illustrated by many familiar examples. For instance: the law of causality is a first truth. Every one knows it. Every one assumes it, and must assume it. No one ever did or can practically deny it. Now, I have some important end to accomplish. In looking around for means to accomplish my end, I discover a certain means which I am sure will accomplish it. It is the tendency of this to accomplish my end, that my mind is principally affected with at the time. Should I be asked, why I choose this, I should naturally answer, because of its utility or tendency; and I should be conscious that this reason was upon the field of consciousness. But it is perfectly plain, that the fundamental reason for this choice, and one which was assumed, and had in fact the prime and fundamental influence in producing the choice, was the intrinsic value of the end to which the thing chosen sustained the relation of a means. Take another illustration: That happiness is intrinsically valuable, is a first truth. Every body knows and assumes it as such. Now, I behold a virtuous character; assuming the first truth, that happiness is intrinsically valuable, I affirm irresistibly that he deserves happiness, and that it is my duty to will his happiness in particular. Now, in this case, the affirmation, that he deserves happiness, and that I ought to will it, is based upon the assumption that happiness is intrinsically valuable. The thing with which I am immediately conscious of being affected, and which necessitated the affirmation of the obligation to will his particular good, and which induced me to will it, was the perception of his goodness or desert of happiness. Nevertheless, it is certain that I did assume, and was fundamentally influenced, both in my affirmation of obligation, and in my choice, by the first truth, that happiness is intrinsically valuable. I assumed it, and was influenced by it, though unconscious of it. And this is generally true of first truths. They are so universally and so necessarily assumed in practice, that we lose the direct consciousness of being influenced by them. Myriads of illustrations of this are arising all around us. We do really love God, that is, exercise good-will to him. Of this we are strongly conscious. We are also conscious of willing his actual blessedness upon conditions that he is good. This reason we naturally assign to ourselves and to others. But in this we may overlook the fact, that there is still another, and a deeper, and a more fundamental reason assumed for willing his good, to wit, its intrinsic value. And this reason is so fundamental, that we should irresistibly affirm our obligation to will his good, upon the bare perception of his susceptibility of happiness, wholly irrespective of his character.* 

*Let the foregoing be read in connection with the lecture on the Moral Excellence of God being the Foundation of Obligation.

Before I dismiss this subject, I must advert again to the subject of complacent love, as a phenomenon of the sensibility, and also as a phenomenon of the intellect. If I mistake not, there are sad mistakes, and gross and ruinous delusions, entertained by many upon this subject. The intellect, of necessity, perfectly approves of the character of God where it is apprehended. The intellect is so correlated to the sensibility, that, where it perceives in a strong light the divine excellence, or the excellence of the divine law, the sensibility is affected by the perception of the intellect, as a thing of course and of necessity, so that emotions of complacency and delight in the law, and in the divine character, may and often do glow and burn in the sensibility, while the will or heart is unaffected. The will remains in a selfish choice, while the intellect and the sensibility are strongly impressed with the perception of the Divine excellence. This state of the intellect and the sensibility are, no doubt, often mistaken for true religion. We have undoubted illustrations of this in the Bible, and similar cases of it in common life. “Yet they seek me daily, and delight to know my ways, as a nation that did righteousness, and forsook not the ordinance of their God: they ask of me the ordinances of justice, they take delight in approaching to God.” Isa_58:2. “And, lo, thou art unto them as a very lovely song of one that hath a pleasant voice, and can play well on an instrument: for they hear thy words, but they do them not.” Eze_33:32. 

Nothing is of greater importance, than for ever to understand, that religion is always and necessarily a phenomenon of the will; that it always and necessarily produces outward action and inward feeling; that, on account of the correlation of the intellect and sensibility, almost any and every variety of feeling may exist in the mind, as produced by the perceptions of the intellect, whatever the state of the will may be; that unless we are conscious of good-will, or of consecration to God and the good of being–unless we are conscious of living for this end, it avails us nothing, whatever our views and feelings may be. 

And also, it behoves us to consider that, although these views and feelings may exist while the heart is wrong, they will certainly exist when the heart is right; that there may be feeling, and deep feeling, when the heart is in a selfish attitude, yet, that there will and must be deep emotion and strenuous action, when the heart is right. Let it be remembered, that complacency, as a phenomenon of the will, is always a striking characteristic of true love to God; that the mind is affected and consciously influenced, in willing the actual and infinite blessedness of God, by a regard to his goodness. The goodness of God is not, as has been repeatedly shown, the fundamental reason for the good will, but it is one reason or a condition, both of the possibility of willing, and of the obligation to will, his blessedness in particular. It assigns to itself and to others, his goodness as the reason for willing his good, rather than the intrinsic value of good; because this last is so universally, and so necessarily assumed, that it thinks not of mentioning it, taking it always for granted, that this will, and must be understood.

The Rev. CHARLES G. FINNEY’S SYSTEMATIC THEOLOGY (1851)

WHAT IS IMPLIED IN ENTIRE OBEDIENCE TO THE LAW OF GOD. 

12. Opposition to sin is another attribute or characteristic of true love to God. 

This attribute is simply benevolence contemplated in its relations to sin. This attribute certainly is implied in the very essence and nature of benevolence. Benevolence is good-willing, or willing the highest good of being as an end. Now there is nothing in the universe more destructive of this good than sin. Benevolence cannot do otherwise than be for ever opposed to sin, as that abominable thing which it necessarily hates. It is absurd and a contradiction to affirm, that benevolence is not opposed to sin. God is love or benevolence. He must, therefore, be the unalterable opponent of sin–of all sin, in every form and degree. 

But there is a state, both of the intellect and of the sensibility, that is often mistaken for the opposition of the will to sin. Opposition to all sin is, and must be, a phenomenon of the will, and on that ground alone it becomes virtue. But it often exists also as a phenomenon of the intellect, and likewise of the sensibility. The intellect cannot contemplate sin without disapprobation. This disapprobation is often mistaken for opposition of heart, or of will. When the intellect strongly disapproves of, and denounces sin, there is naturally and necessarily a corresponding feeling of opposition to it in the sensibility, and emotion of loathing, of hatred, of abhorrence. This is often mistaken for opposition of the will, or heart. This is manifest from the fact, that often the most notorious sinners manifest strong indignation in view of oppression, injustice, falsehood, and many other forms of sin. This phenomenon of the sensibility and of the intellect, as I said, is often mistaken for a virtuous opposition to sin, which it cannot be unless it involve an act of the will. 

But let it be remembered, that virtuous opposition to sin, is a characteristic of love to God and man, or of benevolence. This opposition to sin cannot possibly co-exist with any degree of sin in the heart. That is, this opposition cannot co-exist with a sinful choice. The will cannot, at the same time, be opposed to sin and commit sin. This is impossible, and the supposition involves a contradiction. Opposition to sin as a phenomenon of the intellect, or of the sensibility, may exist; in other words, the intellect may strongly disapprove of sin, and the sensibility may feel strongly opposed to certain forms of it, while, at the same time, the will may cleave to self-indulgence in other forms. This fact, no doubt, accounts for the common mistake, that we can, at the same time, exercise a virtuous opposition to sin, and still continue to commit it. 

Many are, no doubt, labouring under this fatal delusion. They are conscious, not only of an intellectual disapprobation of sin in certain forms, but also, at times, of strong feelings of opposition to it. And yet they are also conscious of continuing to commit it. They, therefore, conclude, that they have a principle of holiness in them, and also a principle of sin, that they are partly holy and partly sinful, at the same time. Their opposition of intellect and of feeling, they suppose to be a holy opposition, when, no doubt, it is just as common in hell, and even more so than it is on earth, for the reason that sin is more naked there than it generally is here. 

But now the inquiry may arise, how is it that both the intellect and the sensibility are opposed to it, and yet that it is persevered in? What reason can the mind have for a sinful choice, when urged to it neither by the intellect nor the sensibility? The philosophy of this phenomenon needs explanation. Let us attend to it. 

I am a moral agent. My intellect necessarily disapproves of sin. My sensibility is so correlated to my intellect, that it sympathizes with it, or is affected by its perceptions and its judgments. I contemplate sin. I necessarily disapprove of it, and condemn it. This affects my sensibility. I loathe and abhor it. I nevertheless commit it. Now how is this to be accounted for? The usual method is by ascribing it to a depravity in the will itself, a lapsed or corrupted state of the faculty, so that it perversely chooses sin for its own sake. Although disapproved by the intellect, and loathed by the sensibility, yet such, it is said, is the inherent depravity of the will, that it pertinaciously cleaves to sin notwithstanding, and will continue to do so, until that faculty is renewed by the Holy Spirit, and a holy bias or inclination is impressed upon the will itself. 

But here is a gross mistake. In order to see the truth upon this subject, it is of indispensable importance to inquire what sin is. 

It is admitted on all hands, that selfishness is sin. Comparatively few seem to understand that selfishness is the whole of sin, and that every form of sin may be resolved into selfishness, just as every form of virtue may be resolved into benevolence. It is not my purpose now to show that selfishness is the whole of sin. It is sufficient for the present to take the admission, that selfishness is sin. But what is selfishness? It is the choice of self-gratification as an end. It is the preference of our own gratification to the highest good of universal being. Self-gratification is the supreme end of selfishness. This choice is sinful. That is, the moral quality of this selfish choice is sin. Now, in no case, is or can sin be chosen for its own sake, or as an end. Whenever any thing is chosen to gratify self, it is not chosen because the choice is sinful, but notwithstanding it is sinful. It is not the sinfulness of the choice upon which the choice fixes, as an end, or for its own sake, but it is the gratification to be afforded by the thing chosen. For example: theft is sinful. But the will, in an act of theft, does not aim at and terminate on the sinfulness of theft, but upon the gain or gratification expected from the stolen object. Drunkenness is sinful, but the inebriate does not intend or choose the sinfulness, for its own sake, or as an end. He does not choose strong drink because the choice is sinful, but notwithstanding it is so. We choose the gratification, but not the sin, as an end. To choose the gratification as an end is sinful, but it is not the sin that is the object of choice. Our mother Eve ate the forbidden fruit. This eating was sinful. But the thing that she chose or intended, was not the sinfulness of eating, but the gratification expected from the fruit. It is not, it cannot in any case be true, that sin is chosen as an end, or for its own sake. Sin is only the quality of selfishness. Selfishness is the choice, not of sin as an end, or for its own sake, but of self-gratification; and this choice of self-gratification as an end is sinful. That is, the moral quality of the choice is sin. To say that sin is, or can be, chosen for its own sake, is untrue and absurd. It is the same as saying that a choice can terminate on an element, quality, or attribute, of itself; that the thing chosen is really an element of the choice itself. This is absurd. 

But it is said, that sinners are sometimes conscious of choosing sin for its own sake, or because it is sin; that they possess such a malicious state of mind, that they love sin for its own sake; that they “roll sin as a sweet morsel under their tongue;” that “they eat up the sins of God’s people as they eat bread;” that is, that they love their own sins and the sins of others, as they do their necessary food, and choose it for that reason, or just as they do their food. That they not only sin themselves with greediness, but also have pleasure in them that do the same. Now all this may be true, yet it does not at all disprove the position which I have taken, namely, that sin never is, and never can be chosen as an end, or for its own sake. Sin may be sought and loved as a means, but never as an end. The choice of food will illustrate this. Food is never chosen as an ultimate end: it never can be so chosen. It is always as a means. It is the gratification, or the utility of it, in some point of view, that constitutes the reason for choosing it. Gratification is always the end for which a selfish man eats. It may not be merely the present pleasure of eating which he alone or principally seeks. But, nevertheless, if a selfish man, he has his own gratification in view as an end. It may be that it is not so much a present, as a remote gratification he has in view. Thus he may choose food to give him health and strength to pursue some distant gratification, the acquisition of wealth, or something else that will gratify him. 

It may happen that a sinner may get into a state of rebellion against God and the universe, of so frightful a character, that he shall take pleasure in willing, and in doing, and saying, things that are sinful, just because they are sinful and displeasing to God and to holy beings. But, even in this case, sin is not chosen as an end, but as a means of gratifying this malicious feeling. It is, after all, self-gratification that is chosen as an end, and not sin. Sin is the means, and self-gratification is the end. 

Now we are prepared to understand how it is that both the intellect and sensibility can often be opposed to sin, and yet the will cleave to the indulgence. An inebriate is contemplating the moral character of drunkenness. He instantly and necessarily condemns the abomination. His sensibility sympathizes with the intellect. He loathes the sinfulness of drinking strong drink, and himself on account of it. He is ashamed, and were it possible, he would spit in his own face. Now, in this state, it would surely be absurd to suppose that he could choose sin, the sin of drinking, as an end, or for its own sake. This would be choosing it for an impossible reason, and not for no reason. But still he may choose to continue his drink, not because it is sinful, but notwithstanding it is so. For while the intellect condemns the sin of drinking strong drink, and the sensibility loathes the sinfulness of the indulgence, nevertheless there still exists so strong an appetite, not for the sin, but for the liquor, that the will seeks the gratification, notwithstanding the sinfulness of it. 

So it is, and so it must be, in every case where sin is committed in the face of the remonstrances of the intellect and the loathing of the sensibility. The sensibility loathes the sinfulness, but more strongly desires the thing the choice of which is sinful. The will in a selfish being yields to the strongest impulse of the sensibility, and the end chosen is, in no case, the sinfulness of the act, but the self-gratification. Those who suppose this opposition of the intellect, or of the sensibility, to be a holy principle, are fatally deluded. It is this kind of opposition to sin, that often manifests itself among wicked men, and that leads them to take credit for goodness or virtue, not an atom of which do they possess. They will not believe themselves to be morally and totally depraved, while they are conscious of so much hostility to sin within them. But they should understand, that this opposition is not of the will, or they could not go on in sin; that it is purely an involuntary state of mind, and has no moral character whatever. Let it be ever remembered, then, that a virtuous opposition to sin is always and necessarily an attribute of benevolence, a phenomenon of the will; and that it is naturally impossible, that this opposition of will should co-exist with the commission of sin. 

As this opposition to sin is plainly implied in, and is an essential attribute of, benevolence, or true love to God, it follows, that obedience to the law of God cannot be partial, in the sense that we both love God and sin as the same time. 

13. Compassion for the miserable is also an attribute of benevolence, or of pure love to God and man. This is benevolence viewed in its relations to misery and to guilt. 

There is a compassion also which is a phenomenon of the sensibility. It may, and does often exist in the form of an emotion. But this emotion being involuntary, has no moral character in itself. The compassion which is a virtue, and which is required of us as a duty, is a phenomenon of the will, and is of course an attribute of benevolence. Benevolence, as has been often said, is good willing, or willing the highest happiness and well-being of God and the universe for its own sake, or as an end. It is impossible, therefore, from its own nature, that compassion for the miserable should not be one of its attributes. Compassion of will to misery is the choice or wish that it might not exist. Benevolence wills that happiness should exist for its own sake. It must therefore, wish that misery might not exist. This attribute or peculiarity of benevolence consists in wishing the happiness of the miserable. Benevolence, simply considered, is willing the good or happiness of being in general. Compassion of will is a willing particularly that the miserable should be happy. 

Compassion of sensibility is simply a felling of pity in view of misery. As has been said, it is not a virtue. It is only a desire, but not willing; consequently does not benefit its object. It is the state of mind of which James speaks:– Jam_2:15-16 : “If a brother or sister be naked, and destitute of daily food, and one of you say unto them, Depart in peace, be ye warmed and filled; notwithstanding ye give them not those things which are needful to the body, what doth it profit?” This kind of compassion may evidently co-exist with selfishness. But compassion of heart or will cannot; for it consists in willing the happiness of the miserable for its own sake, and of course impartially. It will, and from its very nature must, deny self to promote its end, whenever it wisely can, that is, when it is seen to be demanded by the highest general good. Circumstances may exist that render it unwise to express this compassion by actually extending relief to the miserable. Such circumstances forbid that God should extend relief to the lost in hell. But for their character and governmental relations, God’s compassion would no doubt make immediate effort for their relief. 

Many circumstances may exist in which, although compassion would hasten to the relief of its object, yet, on the whole, the misery that exists is regarded as the less of two evils, and therefore, the wisdom of benevolence forbids it to put forth exertions to save its object. 

But it is of the last importance to distinguish carefully between compassion, as a phenomenon of the sensibility, or as a mere feeling, and compassion considered as a phenomenon of the will. This, be it remembered, is the only form of virtuous compassion. Many, who, from the laws of their mental constitution, feel quickly and deeply, often take credit to themselves for being compassionate, while they seldom do much for the downtrodden and the miserable. Their compassion is a mere feeling. It says, “Be ye warmed and clothed,” but does not that for them which is needful. It is this particular attribute of benevolence that was so conspicuous in the life of Howard, Wilberforce, and many other Christian philanthropists. 

It should be said, before I leave the consideration of this attribute, that the will is often influenced by the feeling of compassion. In this case, the mind is no less selfish in seeking to promote the relief and happiness of its object, than it is in any other form of selfishness. In such cases, self-gratification is the end sought, and the relief of the suffering is only a means. Pity is stirred, and the sensibility is deeply pained and excited by the contemplation of misery. The will is influenced by this feeling, and makes efforts to relieve the painful emotion on the one hand, and to gratify the desire to see the sufferer happy on the other. This is only an imposing form of selfishness. We, no doubt, often witness displays of the kind of self-gratification. The happiness of the miserable is not in this case sought as an end, or for its own sake, but as a means of gratifying our own feelings. This is not obedience of will to the law of the intellect, but obedience to the impulse of the sensibility. It is not a rational and intelligent compassion, but just such compassion as we often see mere animals exercise. They will risk, and even lay down, their lives, to give relief to one of their number, or to a man who is in misery. In them this has no moral character. Having no reason, it is not sin for them to obey their sensibility, nay, this is a law of their being. This they cannot but do. For them, then, to seek their own gratification as an end is not sin. But man has reason; he is bound to obey it. He should will and seek the relief and the happiness of the miserable, for its own sake, or for its intrinsic value. When he seeks if for no higher reason than to gratify his feelings, he denies his humanity. He seeks it, not out of regard to the sufferer, but in self-defence, or to relieve his own pain, and to gratify his own desires. This in him is sin. 

Many, therefore, who take to themselves much credit for benevolence, are, after all, only in the exercise of this imposing form of selfishness. They take credit for holiness, when their holiness is only sin. What is especially worthy of notice here, is, that this class of persons appear to themselves and others, to be all the more virtuous, by how much more manifestly and exclusively they are led on by the impulse of feeling. They are conscious of feeling deeply, of being most sincere and earnest in obeying their feelings. Every body who knows them can also see, that they feel deeply, and are influenced by the strength of their feelings, rather than by their intellect. Now, so gross is the darkness of most persons upon this subject, that they award praise to themselves and to others, just in proportion as they are sure, that they are actuated by the depth of their feelings, rather than by their sober judgment. 

But I must not leave this subject without observing, that when compassion exists as a phenomenon of the will, it will certainly also exist as a feeling of the sensibility. A man of a compassionate heart will also be a man of compassionate sensibility. He will feel and he will act. Nevertheless, his actions will not be the effect of his feelings, but will be the result of his sober judgment. Three classes of persons suppose themselves, and are generally supposed by others, to be truly compassionate. The one class exhibit much feeling of compassion; but their compassion does not influence their will, hence they do not act for the relief of suffering. These content themselves with mere desires and tears. They say, Be ye warmed and clothed, but give not the needed relief. Another class feel deeply, and give up to their feelings. Of course they are active and energetic in the relief of suffering. But being governed by feeling, instead of being influenced by their intellect, they are not virtuous, but selfish. Their compassion is only an imposing form of selfishness. A third class feel deeply, but are not governed by blind impulses of feeling. They take a rational view of the subject, act wisely and energetically. They obey their reason. Their feelings do not lead them, neither do they seek to gratify their feelings. But these last are truly virtuous, and altogether the most happy of the three. Their feelings are all the more gratified by how much less they aim at the gratification. They obey their intellect, and, therefore, have the double satisfaction of the applause of conscience, while their feelings are also fully gratified by seeing their compassionate desire accomplished.