Crowning His Own Works

Excerpt from Tullian Tchividjian post:  Interview With Mike Horton: Part Two

This is a continuation of my four-part interview with Mike Horton on the nature of the gospel and sanctification. You can (and should) read Part One here.

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Does the law of God have the power to sanctify us? During this conversation, some have pointed out the Westminster Confession of Faith 19.6 and the Canons of Dordt 5.14 and conclude that both the promises of the gospel and the threatenings of the law carry the power to sanctify. So, when they hear you (or me) say things like “the law guides but only the gospel gives us the power to do what it says” they wonder if we disagree with those portions of our confession. How would you respond?

The law has an indispensable role in our sanctification, but it doesn’t have any power to justify or to sanctify. The law and the gospel simply do different things, but both are essential.  The gospel doesn’t tell us what to do; it tells us what God has done.  The law doesn’t announce God’s pardon and renewal; it tells us what God requires.  In a covenant of law (where perfect, personal, and perpetual obedience is the basis of blessing/cursing), the law can only condemn; in the covenant of grace, the law can no longer condemn the justified but can only guide them in the way of righteousness.  That’s why Calvin called this third use “the primary use” in the Christian life, because while the threatening of the law still drive us to Christ (first use), it must never be used to terrify the conscience of those who cling to Christ.  So it’s not only a question of whether the law is still present, but of what role the law has in determining the basis of the covenant.

The law and the gospel do different things. That doesn’t change after conversion. Think of a sailboat. You can have all the guidance equipment to tell you where to go, to plot your course, and to warn you when you’ve been blown off course. However, you can’t move an inch without wind in your sails. All of the spiritual technology in the world—tools, techniques, and guidance—will not actually drive sanctification anymore than justification. The law (in this case, the third use) directs, but it cannot drive gospel sanctification. Paul answers his own question, “Shall we then sin that grace may abound?” not by switching back to threats and principles, but rather he shows the expansiveness of the gospel as the answer to the dominion as well as condemnation of sin. Persevering on the high seas requires both God’s guidance and God’s power, but it’s the gospel that is “the power of God unto salvation.”

A more biblical analogy, of course, is adoption. As a minister, I have to ask myself whether I’m preaching the law in a given moment on behalf of God as Judge or as Father?  If I’m preaching to God’s children as if the one I’m representing is their Judge (pedagogical use), without sending them back to Christ, I’m using the law unlawfully. There is such a thing as God’s fatherly displeasure and rebukes. That’s part of perseverance.

Sometimes, over-reacting against legalism, we’re nervous about passages in Scripture that speak of God punishing his children when they transgress his will and rewarding them for obedience.  Yet these are wonderful passages.  Think of an older adopted child who is delighted when his new father disciplines him just as he does the others whom he has known much longer.  Similarly, “God is treating you as sons.  For what son is there whom his father does not discipline?  If you are left without discipline, in which all have participated, then you are illegitimate children and not sons” (Heb 12:7-8).  In this process, the law may rebuke as well as guide.

WCF 19.6 says that “believers are not under the law as a covenant of works, to be thereby justified or condemned”; yet it’s “of great use” because it does the following things: (1) “informing them of the will of God and their duty, it directs and binds them to walk accordingly; (2) discovering also the sinful pollutions of their nature, hearts, and lives, so as, examining themselves thereby, they may come to further conviction of, humiliation for, and hatred against sin, together with a clearer sight of the need they have of Christ and the perfections of his obedience.  (3) It is likewise of use to the regenerate, to restrain their corruptions, in that it forbids sin: and the threatening of it serve to show what even their sins deserve; and what afflictions, in this life, they may expect from them, although freed from the curse thereof threatened in the law.”

Very deliberately, the Confession does not say that “the threatening” of the law is an appropriate way to exhort repentant believers.  Rather, it causes us all to flee to Christ and its threats “show what even their [the believers’] sins deserve.”  When it comes to the threatening power of the law, it can extend no further than “reaping what you sow” in temporal afflictions.  The Confession also speaks of promises attached to the law.  This is not because the law itself is gospel, since the law’s promises (blessings/curses) are conditional on obedience.  However, the promises attached to the law do indeed become ours—not through the law itself, but through the gospel.  Without the law, though, we wouldn’t even know what those promises are!  That’s why this statement in 19.6 follows up with the reminder that this is not to be taken in the sense of “the law as a covenant of works.”

A quick and folksy illustration.  My dad was a professional builder (constructed houses) and an expert mechanic (built planes during WWII).  In my case, the apple not only fell far from the tree; it rolled down the hill, into the street, under a bus, and was never seen again.  Nevertheless, my dad was fond not only of letting me watch him at work, but bringing me into the process at the final stage.  “Now drive in that nail,” or “press that valve,” he would say, and then we’d go home and he’d tell my mom that I built a house or fixed the car.  Calvin talks about God “crowning his own works” when he rewards believers.  It’s not something they deserve, but something that God delights to give because he’s a good father.  Although the child’s performance doesn’t exactly rise to the level of the prize, a good father does not reward bad behavior, but good behavior.

None of this threatens justification.  In fact, justification makes it possible for God in Christ to switch from Judge to Father and reward our obedience without any reference to what we deserve one way or the other, but rather what will benefit us.  Once the person is justified for the sake of Christ alone, his or her works can also be accepted.   As the ground of acceptance before God, our best works fall short of God’s glory.  However, once we are declared righteous in Christ, God can overlook the imperfection—even sin—still clinging to our best works.  There’s nothing that God as Judge can do with our works but condemn us, but there’s nothing left for God as Father to do with our good works than delight in them.  Analogous to what my dad did with me, our Heavenly Father can say, “Well done, good and faithful servant,” not only because of the imputation of Christ’s righteousness but also because, on that basis, we are already totally justified in Christ.  Even the mixed works of a justified child bring pleasure to God.  He’s too good of a Father to ignore our imperfect obedience, though even this is wrought within us by his Spirit.  This is over-the-top-amazing: On judgment day, it will not be enough that our gracious Father announces to the world what he has already declared to us: that we are perfectly righteous in Christ; he will add to this rewards for things that we didn’t even really do perfectly, completely, or without mixed motives—and that we could never have done apart from his grace.  That’s not justification; it’s ON TOP OF justification!!!

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