One artifact of the twin realities that 1) the Bible is not a systematic theology and that 2) we must do systematic (and dogmatic) theology is that the language of our stipulated definitions and traditional, confessional categories (especially in Reformed theology) is more precise, or at least more univocal, than the language of Scripture itself. This is nowhere more obvious than in the area of soteriology (doctrine of salvation). At some level this is unavoidable, as it would defeat their very purpose for our confessions and statements of faith and systematic theologies to hypertrophy into practically exhaustive Bible concordances. We also need clear and precise theological articulations, a "pattern of sound words" (2 Tim. 1:13), to express our faith to the watching world and to guard against error in our churches. One liability of this artifact, though, is that attempts at scriptural clarification, enrichment, nuancing, and even reform, are sometimes unduly hindered. Another liability is the potential for unnecessary talking past one another in ecumenical and even intramural debates on theological nuance, leading in the worst cases to premature accusations of serious error or heresy.
Even though it is impossible for a confession or statement of faith or a systematic theology to say everything the Bible says about a given topic, in every way the Bible speaks about it (otherwise it would asymptotically approach becoming something else--a biblical theology, a whole-Bible commentary, or a reprinting of the Bible itself), sola scriptura means that the richness of the Bible's own language should continually inform and reform the way we put together and articulate all of our systematic theology. This necessarily includes fresh attempts systematically to account for more of the full breadth of Scripture's use of language around any given theological topic, including salvation. Because the recovery of certain key soteriological insights lay at the heart of the Reformation, this makes historically confessional Protestants exceedingly nervous and often suspicious that (Romeward-capitulating) deconstructions may be entering through a back door of some kind.
Nevertheless, Scripture remains what it is.
In the Reformed tradition we normally speak of an "order of salvation" (ordo salutis) that neatly lists off various components of our individual salvation process, taking Romans 8:29-30 as its jumping-off point: foreknowledge/election, predestination, effectual calling/regeneration/conversion, faith/repentance, (sometimes union with Christ is listed here), justification, adoption, sanctification, glorification. There is much utility and indeed much truth in this kind of construction, but there are two potential problems with it: it neglects the broader biblical usage of several of these categories in terms of definitive, progressive, and consummative aspects of their application to believers, and it diminishes the corporate and cosmic aspects of salvation.
For example, while "glorification" is ordinarily conceived of as our final, consummative transformation into the fullness of the restored and immortalized image of Christ (and rightly so, as that is indeed the New Testament's emphasis with such language--Rom. 8:17, 21), Paul can also speak freely of our progressively "...being transformed into the same image from glory to glory..." (2 Cor. 3:18).
While the category of sanctification typically brings to the minds of Reformed believers our progressive growth in holiness (which Rom. 6:22 may at least plausibly refer to), the overwhelming majority of the New Testament usage is a more definitive sense in which Christians have been "set apart for God" in a one-time event through the work of Christ and/or our faith in him (1 Cor. 1:2; 6:11; Heb. 10:10, 14, 29; etc.).
Adoption is usually spoken of as a part of our conversion experience--a definitive, one-time event coinciding with our justification upon initial faith (cf. 1 Jn. 3:1). But Paul speaks also of the eschatological, consummative aspect of adoption correlated with our bodily resurrection on the Last Day in Rom. 8:23, crowning the Spirit-given hope of verse 15 with the hoped-for reality in its fullness.
Justification, too, is a more complex category than some simplistic articulations and slogans would allow. Douglas Campbell fans and theoretical-only views of Romans 2 notwithstanding (both of which I am profoundly exegetically unconvinced*), Romans 2:13 adds an eschatological, consummative dimension to justification, which is normally thought of as a centrally definitive component of justification (see also Matt. 12:36-37). James 2:21-24 offers up the life of Abraham as an argument for the necessity of faith "working with" works (v. 22), and emphasizes the offering of Isaac as a work through which Abraham was at that time "justified" in some sense (in a way we should probably think of as distinct from but not completely separate from or unrelated to his having already been "counted righteous" in Gen. 15:6 by faith, which James explicitly also mentions in verse 23). We probably shouldn't think of this exactly as a "progressive" aspect of justification, as the nature of the act of judicially "declaring" something is more inherently punctiliar than it is linear or gradual. But it does seem distinct from "initial justification" and even from the eschatological justification of Rom. 2:13.
More on James 2 in a future essay, Lord willing.
Speaking of Abraham, some complications also arise biblically for our usual systematic-theological "grid" for understanding conversion and related components of salvation. Ordinarily, when we think of someone coming to faith in Christ in the present day, we consider them regenerated, such regeneration having caused them to believe and repent (more or less simultaneously--I personally tend to view definitive, initial repentance as the first, instantaneous motion of a heart made alive with spiritual sight of the glory of [read: faith in] Christ in his gospel), and through this new faith they are united to Christ and therefore immediately justified, adopted, and definitively sanctified. They also receive the indwelling of the Spirit (in the Reformed tradition, they are usually also said to simultaneously receive the baptism of the Holy Spirit, which is what in fact united them to Christ in the first place, and resulted in Spirit-indwelling--cf. 1 Cor. 12:13).
But when did Abraham first exercise faith, according to the bible? And when was Abraham first "counted righteous," according to the Bible? Was Abraham adopted? Was he "regenerated?" Did he receive "Spirit baptism" or Spirit-indwelling? Was he united to Jesus Christ? If so, in what sense? Certain approaches to Reformed soteriology, trying to be fully self-consistent with a Christ-centered insistence on "one manner of salvation" throughout redemptive history and a strong view of covenantal continuity (and there is much biblically to commend both of these principles), would have us believe that the ordo salutis (order of salvation) has been identical for saints throughout the ages, even if there has been significant progress and development in the historia salutis (the history of salvation--God's activity at various moments in history to accomplish redemption outside of us, which redemption is applied to his people in the ordo).
But the fullness of New Testament commentary on Abraham's life throws multiple wrenches into such a tidy system.
The most obvious disjunction here is the evident time lapse of approximately 10-13 years between Abraham's first exercise of faith upon leaving the land of Ur (Gen. 12:1-5; cf. Heb. 11:8) and his being counted righteous in Genesis 15:6. The specific promise Abraham believes in Genesis 15 and the formal covenant-making context of the chapter taken as a whole provide the necessary basis for Abraham's "proto-justification," his being counted righteous by God through faith.
Abraham is called the "friend of God" (Jas. 2:23; cf. 2 Chron. 20:7 and Is. 41:8) but is never explicitly called God's "son." The primary "sons" of God in the Old Testament are Adam, the protological "son of God" (cf. Lk. 3:38, although the OT doesn't explicitly use such language), and Israel, the typological "son of God" (Hos. 11:1). It is only when Jesus teaches his disciples to pray to God intimately as their own "Father," and when they are baptized into his name so as to be joined in membership in the New Jerusalem, that they are finally individually regarded as adopted "sons" of God, complete with an expected inheritance (hence a proper insistence on translating such passages in the masculine; cf. Gal. 3:26-27).
Was Abraham "regenerated?" In systematic-theological terms, we typically regard "regeneration" as the punctiliar work of God's Spirit in decisively making a person who was spiritually dead, unbelieving, and unrepentant to be newly alive unto God, believing, and repentant. It is the moment of individual conversion. If we stipulate this definition, we may say that every Old Testament saint was conceived as a God-hating, unbelieving sinner, but was of course "regenerated" at some point in order to become a believing person.
But the biblical usage of the specific word "regeneration" and related language of being "born again" extends beyond the individual to include corporate, cosmic, eschatological, and sacramental dimensions. Jesus speaks of "the regeneration" as that order of universal affairs in which there is totalizing restoration and reward, and when his twelve apostles would "...sit upon twelve thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel..." (cf. Matt. 19:27-29). Jesus expects Nicodemus, as a learned teacher in Israel, to understand something about the need for a "new birth," which has individual implications but also alludes strongly, by mentioning "water and the Spirit" (Jn. 3:5), to Old Testament prophecy regarding last-days, new-covenant blessing upon the whole covenant people (Ezek. 36:25-27). The mention of water in this context, together with Paul's words in Titus 3:5 about the "washing of regeneration," lead all commentators, excepting only those writing from traditions that are most allergic to any notion of sacramental efficacy whatsoever, brings to the reader's mind the new covenant sacrament of baptism. Baptism is, if nothing else (and it certainly seems to me that it is more also...), a poignant sign of new-covenant, corporate, spiritual renewal, portending even fuller cosmic renewal on the Last Day. Paul himself in Titus maintains a corporate emphasis: "He saved us...by the washing of regeneration and renewing by the Holy Spirit, whom He poured out upon us richly through Jesus Christ our Savior" (Tit. 3:5-6, my emphases).
So did Abraham partake of new-covenant renewal ("regeneration") through water baptism into a revivified Israel in Christ, cleansed from pre-exilic filthiness? It doesn't seem quite consonant with the flow of biblical history to speak this way. God certainly worked in Abraham's heart to bring about spiritual life expressed in faith and obedience, but Abraham's experience of "the regeneration" per se was typologically anticipatory: new life, life in which his name would be extended in the earth, was granted him in the fulfilment of the promise that he and Sarah would have a son, even in their old age. In Isaac was the fulfilment of past promises and a portent of even greater future renewal, in the blessing of all nations. Perhaps this sheds light on Jesus' meaning in John 8:56.
Did Abraham have union and communion with Jesus Christ? The New Testament category of "union with Christ" involves an (ordinarily) baptismal faith-union with Jesus Christ in his death and resurrection (and ascension/session) (Rom. 6:3-11; Eph. 2:4-6). But the man "Jesus Christ" didn't exist until the blessed Incarnation (Matt. 1:18). The eternal Son of God of course existed, but not as the incarnate, covenantal mediator named "Jesus." Abraham's experience of communion with the Son of God was, once again, anticipatory and bit shadowy, although very real: in Genesis 18 the angel of the Lord (the term "angel of the Lord" is not actually used in Ch. 18 but it seems obvious to identify the appearance of Yahweh here as such, given the narrative in surrounding chapters), together with two presumably angelic escorts (cf. Gen. 19:1), enjoy table fellowship in Abraham's home.
Israel in the wilderness likewise had fellowship with, and indeed received even spiritual nourishment from(!), "Christ" as he manifested his presence to them under the figures of manna and the water-providing rock (1 Cor. 10:1-4). Paul's language in 1 Cor. 10 strikes a strong note of continuity in order to make an ethical application of warning to the errant Corinthians. Nevertheless, he does not speak of Christ incarnate as having been the covenant partner of Israel. He was the same Person without any change of divine nature or person, but his precise estate and the mode of fellowship was different, calibrated in appropriate ways to that particular era of redemptive history in God's wise providence.
I could also (but won't) interject here a full discussion about different possible legitimate senses of "union with Christ" even when considering new covenant Christian believers only: personally decretal/elective union (cf. Eph. 1:4), corporate/ecclesial/sacramental union (cf. Rom. 6:3-4; 1 Cor. 12:12-13), existential union (Rom. 8:9-11; Gal. 2:20, eschatological union (1 Cor. 15:22; Col. 3:3-4), etc. Defining and detailing the relationships between all these different senses of "union" (biblically and then systematic-theologically) is a necessary project in any healthy discussions or debates regarding "covenant objectivity," sacramental efficacy, the nature and necessity of perseverance in faith, the possibility of apostasy, and confessional conception of the benefits of redemption as they are applied to all who are "united" to Christ by the Spirit.
God calls Abraham a prophet in Gen. 20:7, but only select individuals within Israel are said to receive the Holy Spirit for special tasks and offices: the builders of the tabernacle (Ex. 31:1-11; 35:30-35), judges (Judg. 3:10; 6:34; etc.), priests (Ex. 29:7; Lev. 8:12--sacramental depiction with oil only here, to be fair), prophets (Num. 11:25; Lk. 1:67), and kings (1 Sam. 16:13--an efficacious sacramental depiction in this case). Moses responds to Joshua's concern about Eldad and Medad prophesying in the camp by proclaiming his wish that all God's people were Spirit-empowered prophets (Num. 11:28-29). Joel later predicts the fulfilment of this wish (Joel 2:28-29) and Luke records Peter explaining the beginning of the same reality at Pentecost (Acts 2:14-18).
So extraordinary empowerment by the Holy Spirit occurred more rarely in the Old Testament narrative, was not directly connected to baptism into the death and resurrection of Christ (since he had not become incarnate, nor died, nor risen yet), and was mostly focused around leaders and officials in Israel. Abraham "stood in counsel with" God as a prophet (Gen. 19:16-33), led military battles (Gen. 14:1-16) and led his household in covenant faithfulness as a proto-judge/king (Gen. 17:23-27; 18:18-19), and offered sacrifice to God as a proto-priest (Gen. 22:8-13). His experience was connected to, analogous with, but in many ways substantially different from the experience of new covenant believers in Christ. Same God, same fundamental, underlying principles of covenant fellowship; different experience.
That reality is so obvious when we simply read Genesis that it shouldn't need to be said, but our systematic categories (particularly in Reformed systematics) tend to pull us in another direction if we don't put sufficient biblical-theological and directly biblical guardrails on our doctrinal slogans.
The permanent dwelling of God by His Spirit within Christian believers is another area which highlights tension between some Reformed soteriologies and a more biblically precise perspective. The theme of God dwelling with his people is found from Genesis to Revelation as something like the very heart of God's covenant dealings. God presumably habitually walked with Adam and Eve in the garden prior to the Fall (cf. Gen. 3:8); he dwelt in the midst of Israel through the tabernacle and later temple (Ex. 33:14; 40:34-38; 1 Ki. 8:10-11); and then the Church is declared in the New Testament to be the new temple and dwelling place of God by the Spirit, because she is united to Jesus Christ whose body is the fundamental new Temple (Jn. 2:19-21; 1 Cor. 6:15-19; Eph. 2:19-22).
Before Pentecost, which fulfills Jer. 31:31-34 and many similar such prophecies about the giving of the Spirit to permanently dwell with (and in) each member of the covenant community in a new way (cf. also Ezek. 36:27), Jesus spoke of the same coming reality, and John remarks on Jesus' words by saying, "But this He spoke of the Spirit, whom those who believed in Him were to receive, for the Spirit was not yet [given], because Jesus was not yet glorified" (Jn. 7:39). John understood that this new way of the Spirit coming was dependent on the temporal accomplishment of Jesus' messianic work on the cross and in his resurrection. A straightforward reading suggests something qualitatively new was to take place in the experience of salvation among God's people. Jesus' own words later in John also confirm this, although interpreters are often hesitant to make too much of the precise language used, for some reason: "I will ask the Father, and He will give you another Helper, that is, the Spirit of truth...you know Him because He abides with you and will be in you" (Jn. 14:16-17, my emphases). The Holy Spirit is an eternal Person and has ever been active among God's people, often coming upon certain individuals to gift and empower them for special tasks and offices. But now in Christ, we share the new covenant benefit of the Spirit dwelling within, forever. And we should appreciate this together with all the other distinctive covenant blessings we enjoy in this era.
There are many more things to say about various aspects of the ordo salutis and how they are manifested across time not only for individual believers in Christ for the present era but across redemptive history. The above examples should amply suffice for now to make the point.
Must every soteriology chapter of every Reformed (or other) systematic theology textbook henceforth discuss all the nuances of typology and every dimension of the progress of covenant history simply in order to explain the basics of "adoption" in Christ? That hardly seems practical. But there should be plentiful footnoting where necessary, caveating (without losing clarity or proclamatory force if possible) and, more importantly, writing with a kind of biblical-theological "flavor" or redemptive-historical "accent" in creative ways even while topicalizing and systematizing.
I do not envy the job of preachers to attempt to do this kind of thing well in the pulpit, as a sermon admits even fewer paragraphs of clarification and caveating, both for the sake of time and for the sake of clarity. The saving grace is that a sermon should already be something much nearer to biblical commentary than to systematic theology, with pointed hortatory application running throughout or as a conclusion. It is unavoidable to do some teaching of systematic theology from the pulpit from time to time when explaining concepts that arise in the biblical text like "atonement," "last days," "emptied himself," or the phrase, "this is my body." In so doing, it seems advisable to emphasize as much as possible the actual words and grammatical/rhetorical connections found in the exposited text itself, even if it is also necessary to appeal to other biblical passages and to make use of extrabiblical theological or philosophical language for the sake of explanation.
The fundamental principle is to display, even in the way we do both theology and preaching, a hearty trust in the divine power of the Word itself, with all its rich multivalence** and ruggedly historicized presentation of doctrine, perfectly cohering in and centering on Jesus Christ. Let us honor the One and the Many of the Triune God's inscripturated self-revelation as we allow the various disciplines of theology to inform one another in a "hermeneutical spiral" onward and upward towards our "...unity of the faith, and of the knowledge of the Son of God" (Eph. 4:13).
*Dear reader, the work of Dr. Marcus Mininger on Romans, Uncovering the Theme of Revelation in Romans 1:16--3:26, will bring more light to Romans 2 than anything else you will ever read on the passage, and not only sufficiently answers Campbell's objections to traditional views of Romans 1:18--3:20, but reconciles historically opposed traditional options regarding 2:14-16 in ingenious fashion.
**By "multivalence" I do not mean anything like logically contradictory propositions!
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