Alan D. Strange, Imputation of the Active Obedience of Christ in the Westminster Standards. Explorations in Reformed Confessional Theology. Grand Rapids, MI: Reformation Heritage Books, 2019. Pp. xviii + 154. $10.00 (paperback).

The rush of books, articles, reviews, and even a hymnal that has flowed from the pen (or, more likely, keyboard) of Dr. Alan D. Strange has been a most appreciated and welcomed gift to the church. His latest work is no exception as it takes up the vital gospel issue of the imputation of the active obedience of Christ—“no hope without it,” voiced the dying Machen. Strange’s focus is primarily historical, investigating the Westminster Assembly and the Westminster Standards, but this does not keep him from skillfully integrating this history with precise dogmatic formulations, warm pastoral exhortations, penetrating polemical argumentations, and judicious ecclesiastical implications—a truly masterful feat that is both academic and devotional, for both the classroom and the coffeehouse.

Strange’s stated aim is to advance the argument that “while the Assembly may never have explicitly affirmed active obedience in what it finally adopted, nonetheless, the Westminster documents, taken as a whole, tend to affirm it” (2). He seeks to accomplish this by carefully considering both the original intent of the framers of the Westminster Assembly and the animus imponentis, that is, the way in which subsequent ecclesiastical assemblies have understood the Standards (128-29). In his own words:

It is my contention, however, that a few lacunae remain which, when examined, will fill in the picture and permit us to see more clearly that the Assembly affirmed active obedience when it specifically addressed the issue. Although the final language of the Assembly’s documents may not have reflected it as some other formulations do (such as the Savoy Declaration of 1658), they reflect a two-covenant structure that affirms (indeed, that entails and requires…) the doctrine of active obedience. Furthermore, I will argue that the original intent of the Westminster divines favors active obedience, as does the interpretation and application of those standards over the years of those churches that have adopted them (in other words, the animus imponentis favors such an affirmation). Moreover, the Assembly’s constitution as a body to give advice to Parliament rather than as a ruling body of the church materially affected how it did its work; consideration of this is relevant in a variety of controversies, including the question of whether the Assembly affirmed active obedience. (3)

But before arriving in Westminster Abbey in the 17th century, Strange excavates the ancient and medieval church to find seeds of the doctrine of Christ’s active obedience. While some (like Norman Shepherd) have denied any such antecedents, Strange demonstrates that such denial is wrongheaded. In the early church, Irenaeus’s recapitulation theory, anticipated by Justin Martyr, included Christ obeying where Adam disobeyed, and Athanasius’s reasoning for the incarnation expressed the positive need for Christ to fulfill the law “that stood in danger of never being fulfilled because of the sin of Adam and his progeny” (22). In the medieval church, theologians such as Hugh, Lombard, Alexander of Hales, Aquinas, Duns Scotus, and Biel contended that Christ had no need to merit anything for himself, which implies that what he did merit, he merited for us. 

Strange further observes that any historical survey of the doctrine of active obedience must consider not only the doctrine of Christ, but also the doctrine of the Holy Spirit. In fact, it was when the Westminster divines were addressing the latter at the Assembly that the debate about active obedience commenced. The doctrine of the Holy Spirit did not come into its own until the Reformation—most notably with Calvin, whom Warfield knighted “the theologian of the Holy Spirit.” This explains why “the imputation of the active obedience of Christ, which is distinctly the work of the Holy Spirit, received comparatively little attention until the Reformation”: the church had yet to enjoy the proper categories by which to understand the doctrine more robustly (29-30).

In the Reformation, the seeds of active obedience are found in Luther and Melanchthon, which eventually bloomed in their successors, like Martin Chemnitz, and in the Formula of Concord (3.14-15). Calvin may not have clearly distinguished the active from the passive obedience of Christ, but there is considerable evidence that he “does teach a doctrine of the imputation of Christ’s righteousness that includes what later writers distinguished into Christ’s active and passive obedience” (35). This would be stated more explicitly by his successor, Theodore Beza, as well as in the Heidelberg Catechism 60-61 and the Belgic Confession article 22. Johannes Piscator “became the first, particularly in response to the affirmation of Beza, to argue that the imputation of Christ’s righteousness was restricted to His obedience in making satisfaction for the sins of His people” (38). But many Reformed theologians rose to oppose him and affirm active obedience, including the international French Reformed synods of Privas (1612) and Tonneins (1614). Lastly, the Irish Articles of 1615, the most immediate antecedent to Westminster, explicitly affirmed Christ’s active obedience in articles 30, 34, and 35.

This brings us to the heart of Strange’s book in which the debate over active obedience at the Westminster Assembly in 1643 is carefully documented and analyzed within its historical, political, and ecclesiastical context. The Assembly’s original task was not to draft a new confession of faith, but to revise the Thirty-Nine Articles, in which only a single article, article 11, treated justification. This article “had to bear the entire weight of all the major aspects of the doctrine of justification.” The divines, therefore, had relatively brief space, putting precision at a premium (51-52). In this context, the word whole (to qualify Christ’s obedience) carried significant weight as short hand for affirming active obedience.

A heated and drawn-out debate ensued over that weighty word, whole, but when it finally came to a vote, only three or four men out of fifty voted against affirming active obedience. Furthermore, their reasons for opposing it were not owing in the least to a desire “to introduce any element of human merit or works (as a part of our faithfulness) into the equation of our justification” (61). Rather, the minority opposition was mainly owing to fear of antinomianism, “the main theological error among Protestants” at that time (56-57). Yet, despite the potential misuse of the affirmation of active obedience, the Assembly affirmed it anyway, for they believed such “to be at the heart of the gospel” (58).

Thus, the Assembly in its initial debate overwhelmingly affirmed active obedience. Why then is the precise language of whole obedience absent from the Standards they later drafted? Strange answers,

[A]ctive obedience was affirmed in the revision of article 11 in 1643, and there is no reason to suppose that it was not also affirmed in WCF 11 and in the other relevant chapters of the WCF, even though the specific wording of revised article 11 never again appears. It is my contention that it did not need to appear in that form because the wording of WCF 11.3 and 8.5 did everything that the revision of article 11 by the addition of the word whole was intended to do (and arguably more). (67)

Strange supports his thesis with a survey of the Westminster Standards to demonstrate the ubiquitous presence of active obedience, despite the absence of the exact wording of whole obedience. Furthermore, he provides a global perspective of the Standards in terms of its covenant theology, showing how the system of doctrine contained therein falls apart when active obedience is denied. He correctly points out that those who deny active obedience today will “not stop at a mere denial of active obedience; they would likely have problems with the whole theological scheme of Westminster, of which active obedience is merely an important plank” (136). In other words, active obedience is not something one can reject without doing substantial damage to the whole system, and those who do “are wanting as Reformed theologians” (136-37).

The bulk of the book has been concerned with the original intent of the framers of the Westminster Assembly, but Strange concludes with an important consideration of the animus imponentis in the final chapter. To give just a cursory overview: both the PCA and OPC have had committees address the broader question of justification in which active obedience was affirmed. This is on par with judicatories in both denominations requiring the affirmation of limited atonement, despite the original intent being unclear. “Similarly,” says Strange, “the recent reports of committees erected by such bodies also testify that an animus has developed in the church that reads our standards to require the affirmation of active obedience, even as they routinely require the affirmation of the doctrine of limited atonement” (134). A similar animus is also evidenced in the PCA, OPC, RCUS, OCRC, URCNA, and RPCNA who have received committee reports that “have either condemned FV [Federal Vision] and NPP [New Perspective on Paul] errors or have adopted statements that reaffirm and highlight confessional statements that militate against positions of at least some of their supporters” and affirm active obedience (137n10).

The compact size of this book would be a false indication of its massive achievement in historical and confessional theology. In a word, it punches well above its weight-class, especially in contemporary debates concerning justification, like Federal Vision. Strange’s thesis that the Westminster Assembly and Standards affirm the imputation of the active obedience of Christ is carefully and persuasively argued. This volume will be of great service to the church in her task to guard the good deposit of the gospel.

Dr. Alan D. Strange has graced Christ the Center on numerous occasions, including an interview on the book reviewed above:

• The Imputation of Active Obedience in the Westminster Standards
• History and the Life of the Church
• The Spirituality of the Church in the Ecclesiology of Charles Hodge
• Charles Hodge and the Spirituality of the Church
• Confessional Subscription and the Animus Imponentis

The eschatological life of the believer requires the legal restitution of sin’s guilt by means of an imputed righteousness for justification—a kingdom benefit received only in union with Christ by his Spirit through faith. While Paul spoke of the death of Christ in Romans 1:3-4 and its application for salvation to all who believe in 1:16-17, now in 5:1-11 he expounds its substitutionary nature, having just declared Abraham justified before God on account of the righteousness he received not by works of the law, but through faith. Christ did not die for his own sin, but for us while we were helpless (v. 6), sinners (v. 8), and enemies (v. 10). The death of Christ established peace with God (5:1) for by it we were reconciled to God (5:10)—both forensic terms in keeping with justification. Vos, commenting on Romans 5:9-11, states, “The objective reconciliation took place in the death of Christ; its subjective result is justification. … The two are entirely equivalent. … [Reconciliation] consisted in the removal of objective legal obstacles…. According to Romans … the two transactions of reconciliation and justification are in substance identical. They both rest on the death, or the blood, of Christ.”[1] Ridderbos gets at the eschatological thrust of reconciliation by defining it as “the work of redemption going out from God in Christ to the world, for the removal of ‘enmity,’ for the restoration of ‘peace.’ … [I]t is primarily a matter of removing that which stands in the way of the right relationship between God and (in the most comprehensive sense of the word) the world; in other words, of the eschatological restoration of all things.”[2] Of particular interest for understanding the eschatological aspect of Paul’s conception of life is his statement in 5:10, “For if while we were enemies we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, now that we are reconciled, shall we be saved by [ἐν] his life.”[3] The reference to the “life” of the Son[4] comes after mention of his “death,” which leads us to understand it not as his earthly life, but specifically as his resurrection life in the power of the Spirit (1:4). John Murray observes,

It is not simply the resurrection as an event that is in view, however. Paul does not say, we shall be saved by his resurrection, but ‘by his life,’ and therefore it is the exalted life of the Redeemer that is intended. The resurrection is in the background as conditioning the exaltation life.[5]

In what sense, then, are we saved by the resurrection life of the Son? To answer that we need to first point out that the salvation envisioned here appears to be eschatological, which is evident from the reference to the wrath of God in v. 9. Therefore, it seems Paul has in mind the firstfruits or firstborn concept, which he develops elsewhere (see Rom. 8:29; 1 Cor. 15:20-24). The preposition ἐν could be translated as “in” instead of “by”—we are saved in his life. The resurrection life of Christ is the guarantee of the resurrection life of all united to him in the same way the full harvest is united to the firstfruits. The life of Christ consisting in his royal eschatological enthronement beyond the reach of the grave in the incorruptibility of the Spirit guarantees the kingdom life of all believers who will share in his reign (5:17) and inheritance (8:17). Murray drives the point home well:

The a fortiori argument of the apostle is thus apparent. It is to the effect that if, when we were in a state of alienation from God, God showed his love to such an extent that he reconciled us to himself and instated us in his favour through the death of his own Son, how much more, when this alienation is removed and we are instated in his favour, shall the exaltation life of Christ insure our being saved to the uttermost. … This argument also shows the indissoluble connection that there is between the death and resurrection of Christ and that since these may never be disassociated so the benefits accruing from the one may never be severed from those accruing from the other. … Hence those who are the beneficiaries of Jesus’ death must also be the beneficiaries of all that is entailed in his resurrection life.[6]

The eschatological life of the believer can never be separated from the resurrection life of Christ. This royal life of the Son in the incorruptible power and glory of the Spirit is the guarantee of the full possession of life for all who believe. Furthermore, as Paul will go on to demonstrate, the only other alternative to life in Christ is death in Adam (5:12-20)—in these two public persons is the whole of humanity subsumed. The path of life from the mode of the flesh, which is subject to death, to the mode of the Spirit, which is characterized by power, glory, and life, is exclusively found in the resurrection life of Jesus Christ our Lord. The gospel, of which the death and resurrection of the Son is the central subject matter (1:3), is the power of the risen Lord to bring all who receive it by faith into this kingdom life. Lastly, Paul’s connection between reconciliation and life in this passage highlights the God-centered nature of this life, which has been evident since the beginning. There is no life post-fall apart from reconciliation between God and the sinner. This life in Christ can only be considered true life if it is enjoyed in the presence of the living God with all elements of enmity and separation caused by sin blotted out, removed as far as the east is from the west, cast forevermore into the depths of the sea—here legally, as to justification, and later as to sin’s power in sanctification (Rom. 6).[7]

[1] Geerhardus Vos, “The Pauline Conception of Reconciliation,” in Redemptive History and Biblical Interpretation, 363-64 [2] Herman Ridderbos, Paul: An Outline of His Theology, 183. [3] This is the same sequence as 1:3-4. In other words, the life-experience of Christ is repeated in those united to him by the Spirit through faith. [4] This is the first time the title “Son” has been used since the prologue. [5] John Murray, The Epistle to the Romans, 1:174. [6] Murray, The Epistle to the Romans, 1:175. [7] Both justification and sanctification are kingdom benefits with neither being the source of the other, but both being conferred in union with Christ (which is to be transferred into his kingdom) by the Spirit through faith.

On October 31st, 1517, Martin Luther nailed his ninety-five theses to the church door in Wittenberg. These were dark, dark days; the gospel had been shackled by the superstitions and idolatries of the Roman Catholic Church and consigned to her dungeon where its light was hidden from the world. But Luther’s action that day would initiate its emancipation by sparking the Protestant Reformation. The Reformers rescued the gospel from Rome’s dungeon and brought it to the hilltops from where its light could again emanate as a beacon of salvation for all to see. To remember this day in the history of Christ’s church, brothers from various Reformed denominations have contributed articles on each of the five solas of the Reformation: sola scriptura, sola fide, sola gratia, solus Christus, and soli Deo gloria. Together they form the five-fold light of the gospel that overcomes the darkness.

A Matter of Eternal Weight

Sola fide (“by faith alone”) is the Reformation’s most notorious doctrine and resides at the core of all Protestant identity. Of course it would be a reductionism to say the Reformers were only concerned with justification by faith alone; nonetheless, it was, in the words of Luther, articulus stantis et cadentis ecclesiae (“the article by which the church stands and falls”). It was here the true church fought the good fight of faith, many even unto martyrdom. The consequence of compromise was not negligible, but carried in its wake the very forfeiture of the power of God for salvation (Rom. 1:16). It was not merely a matter of life and death, but of eternal life and eternal death as it had a direct impact on the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Justification by Faith Alone

The Westminster Larger Catechism defines justification as “an act of God’s free grace unto sinners, in which he pardoneth all their sins, accepteth and accounteth their persons righteous in his sight; not for anything wrought in them, or done by them, but only for the perfect obedience and full satisfaction of Christ, by God imputed to them, and received by faith alone” (70). In a more succinct fashion, Bavinck defines it as “that gracious judicial act of God by which he acquits humans of all the guilt and punishment of sin and confers on them the right to eternal life.” Paul states the matter clearly in Galatians 2:9ff that “a person is not justified by works of the law but through faith in Jesus Christ, so we also have believed in Christ Jesus, in order to be justified by faith in Christ and not by works of the law, because by works of the law no one will be justified.” Any doctrine of salvation that undermines sola fide by requiring any kind or amount of merit that is not supplied by Christ, must be considered (in the full sense Paul meant it in Philippians 3:8) σκύβαλον—”rubbish” is an understatement. Why must we do this? In order that we may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of our own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith (Phil. 3:8-9). Calvin compared faith to an “empty vase” that is filled with and only with the righteousness of Christ. Luther said faith “clasps Christ as a ring clasps its jewel.” And by faith we sing, “Nothing in my hand I bring, simply to thy cross I cling.” With these pictures before us, a twin truth emerges. First, by faith we believe that we are truly sinners incapable of saving ourselves, devoid of any work that could contribute to our righteous standing before God. Second, by faith we believe that out of grace God justifies us for Christ’s sake, which brings us to glory in the fullness and wholeness of our Savior whose perfect righteousness has been freely and graciously imputed to us apart from works. Luther would speak of this righteousness of Christ by which sinners are justified as an “alien” righteousness—it is a righteousness not our own. Bavinck summarizes,

Luther’s great discovery about the “righteousness of God” was that it did not apply to God’s righteousness in himself but rather to the righteousness applied to believers through faith in Christ. God’s righteousness does not condemn us but justifies us. We are clothed in Christ’s righteousness. We are not justified by good works, but for good works, by grace. Faith thus believes that we are sinners and that for Christ’s sake we are justified. God’s declaration of righteousness is not a mere sentence God pronounces to himself but brings with it the act of making us righteous in Christ.

The Belgic Confession on Sola Fide: A Whole Savior

The Belgic Confession was forged in the fires of the Reformation primarily by Guido de Brès in early 1561. The Synod of Dort (1618-19) would later adopt the confession as one of the doctrinal standards of the Reformed Churches.[1] Article 22 (“Our Justification through Faith in Jesus Christ”) opens with a clear explanation of the source and content of faith, both of which serve the glory of God (soli Deo gloria). Its source is the Holy Spirit who “kindles in our hearts an upright faith.” While it is the believer who believes (neither the Spirit nor Christ believes for us), faith is nevertheless the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast (Eph. 2:9). Faith is not a personal achievement, but the end of all boasting before God. This faith then “embraces Jesus Christ with all His merits, appropriates Him, and seeks nothing more besides him.” With Calvin the confession is clear that “as long as Christ remains outside of us, and we are separated from him, all that he has suffered and done for the salvation of the human race remains useless and is of no value to us.” Because faith embraces Jesus Christ, the question regarding salvation is never, “Is my faith sufficient?” (looking inward to the instrument), but “Is my Savior sufficient? (looking outward to the object). To an overwhelming degree, Christ answers Yes with the fullness of his merits, which he obtained in his life, death and resurrection. Faith does not embrace an abstract, bear or irrelevant Christ, but a Christ who is, in the words of Calvin, “clothed with his gospel” (Institutes, 3.2.6). To look to supplement the merits of Christ in any way is to say that “all things which are requisite to our salvation are not in Jesus Christ.” But by sola fide we say that “those who possess Jesus Christ through faith have complete salvation in Him.” He is not “half a Savior,” but a whole Savior.

Therefore we justly say with Paul, that we are justified by faith alone, or by faith apart from works. However, to speak more clearly, we do not mean that faith itself justifies us, for it is only an instrument with which we embrace Christ our righteousness. But Jesus Christ, imputing to us all His merits, and so many holy works which He has done for us and in our stead, is our righteousness. And faith is an instrument that keeps us in communion with Him in all His benefits, which, when they become ours, are more than sufficient to acquit us of our sins. (Belgic Confession 22)

Sola Fide and the Chief End of Man

Sola fide not only accents the glory of God in salvation, but also affords us assurance of right standing before God in order that we may enjoy him.

Certainly there can be no peace of mind and conscience, no joy in one’s heart, no buoyant moral activity, or a blessed life and death, before the guilt of sin is removed, all fear of punishment has been completely eradicated, and the certainty of eternal life in communion with God fills one’s consciousness with its consolation and power. (Bavinck)

The Belgic Confession puts it this way in article 23:

We always hold fast this foundation, ascribing all the glory to God, humbling ourselves before Him, and acknowledging ourselves to be such as we really are, without presuming to trust in any thing in ourselves, or in any merit of ours, relying and resting upon the obedience of Christ crucified alone, which becomes ours when we believe in Him. This is sufficient to cover all our iniquities, and to give us confidence in approaching God; freeing the conscience of fear, terror, and dread…

We can say then that sola fide complements the chief end of man: to glorify God and enjoy him forever. If justification is by faith alone, then God is to be maximally glorified in our salvation and we are to enjoy the wholeness of our Savior in whom we find eternal life.

For Further Study

• Cornelis Venema, The Gospel of Free Acceptance in Christ.
• Lane Tipton, “Biblical Theology and the Westminster Standards Revisited: Union with Christ and Justification Sola Fide.” Also listen to our interview with him on it.
• There are many helpful articles in Justified in Christ: God’s Plan for Us in Justification.
• P. Y. De Jong’s exposition of articles 22 and 23 of the Belgic Confession in The Church’s Witness to the World.
• Anthony Hoekema’s chapter on justification in Saved by Grace.

[1] For more on the fascinating history of the Belgic Confession see Nicolaas H. Gootjes’ The Belgic Confession: Its History and Sources. See also the introduction of Daniel Hyde’s helpful exposition of the confession, With Heart and Mouth.

Panel

• Lane Keister
• Jim Cassidy
• Jeff Waddington
• Nick Batzig
• Camden Bucey

Links

• Green Baggins
• The Puritan Board
• Biblical Horizons

Bibliography

Participants: Camden Bucey, Jeff Waddington, Jim Cassidy, Lane Keister