29
August 1792 A.D. Charles
Grandison Finney Born—Undermining the Gospel
Horton,
Michael S. "Life Under the Big Top: When Evangelism
Undermines the Evangel" Jan./Feb. 1995 Vol. 4 No. 1 Page number(s): 5-9. http://www.modernreformation.org/default.php?page=articledisplay&var2=625. Accessed
19 May 2007.
The Legacy of Charles Finney
Jerry Falwell called him "one of my heroes and a hero to many
evangelicals, including Billy Graham." I recall wandering through the
Billy Graham Center some years ago, observing the place of honor given to
Finney in the evangelical tradition, reinforced by the first class in theology
I had at a Christian college, where Finney's work was required reading. The New
York revivalist was the oft-quoted and celebrated champion of the Christian
singer Keith Green and the Youth With A Mission organization. Finney is
particularly esteemed among the leaders of the Christian Right and the
Christian Left, and his imprint can be seen in movements that appear to be
diverse, but in reality are merely heirs to Finney's legacy. From the Vineyard
movement and the church growth movement to the political and social crusades,
televangelism, and the Promise-Keepers movement, as a former Wheaton College
president rather glowingly cheered, "Finney lives on!"
That is because Finney's moralistic impulse
envisioned a church that was in large measure an agency of personal and social
reform rather than the institution in which the means of grace, Word and
Sacrament, are made available to believers who then take the Gospel to the
world. In the nineteenth century, the evangelical movement became increasingly
identified with political causes--from abolition of slavery and child labor
legislation to women's rights and the prohibition of alcohol. At the turn of
the century, with an influx of Roman Catholic immigrants already making many
American Protestants a bit uneasy, secularism began to pry the fingers of the
Protestant establishment from the institutions (colleges, hospitals, charitable
organizations) they had created and sustained. In a desperate effort at
regaining this institutional power and the glory of "Christian
America" (a vision that is always powerful in the imagination, but, after
the disintegration of Puritan New England, elusive), the turn-of-the-century
Protestant establishment launched moral campaigns to "Americanize"
immigrants, enforce moral instruction and "character education."
Evangelists pitched their American gospel in terms of its practical usefulness
to the individual and the nation.
That is why Finney is so popular. He is the
tallest marker in the shift from Reformation orthodoxy, evident in the Great
Awakening (under Edwards and Whitefield) to Arminian (indeed, even Pelagian)
revivalism, evident from the Second Great Awakening to the present. To
demonstrate the debt of modern evangelicalism to Finney, we must first notice
his theological departures. From these departures, Finney became the father of
the antecedents to some of today's greatest challenges within the evangelical
churches themselves; namely, the church growth movement, Pentecostalism and
political revivalism.
Who Is Finney?
Reacting against the pervasive Calvinism of the
Great Awakening, the successors of that great movement of God's Spirit turned
from God to humans, from the preaching of objective content (namely, Christ and
him crucified) to the emphasis on getting a person to "make a
decision."
Charles Finney (1792-1875) ministered in the wake
of the "Second Awakening," as it has been called. A Presbyterian
lawyer, Finney one day experienced "a mighty baptism of the Holy
Ghost" which "like a wave of electricity going through and through
me...seemed to come in waves of liquid love." The next morning, he
informed his first client of the day, "I have a retainer from the Lord
Jesus Christ to plead his cause and I cannot plead yours." Refusing to
attend Princeton Seminary (or any seminary, for that matter), Finney began
conducting revivals in upstate New York. One of his most popular sermons was,
"Sinners Bound to Change Their Own Hearts."
Finney's one question for any given teaching was,
"Is it fit to convert sinners with?" One result of Finney's
revivalism was the division of Presbyterians in Philadelphia and New York into
Arminian and Calvinistic factions. His "New Measures" included the
"anxious bench" (precursor to today's altar call), emotional tactics
that led to fainting and weeping, and other "excitements," as Finney
and his followers called them. Finney became increasingly hostile toward
Presbyterianism, referring in his introduction to his Systematic Theology to
the Westminster Confession and its drafters rather critically, as if they had
created a "paper pope," and had "elevated their confession and
catechism to the Papal throne and into the place of the Holy Ghost."
Remarkably, Finney demonstrates how close Arminian revivalism, in its
naturalistic sentiments, tends to be to a less refined theological liberalism,
as both caved into the Enlightenment and its enshrining of human reason and
morality:
That
the instrument framed by that assembly should in the nineteenth century be
recognized as the standard of the church, or of an intelligent branch of it, is
not only amazing, but I must say that it is highly ridiculous. It is as absurd
in theology as it would be in any other branch of science. It is better to have
a living than a dead Pope.
What's So Wrong With Finney's Theology?
First, one need go no further than the table of
contents of his Systematic Theology to learn that Finney's entire theology
revolved around human morality. Chapters one through five are on moral government,
obligation, and the unity of moral action; chapters six and seven are
"Obedience Entire," as chapters eight through fourteen discuss
attributes of love, selfishness, and virtues and vice in general. Not until the
twenty-first chapter does one read anything that is especially Christian in its
interest, on the atonement. This is followed by a discussion of regeneration,
repentance, and faith. There is one chapter on justification followed by six on
sanctification. In other words, Finney did not really write a Systematic
Theology, but a collection of essays on ethics.
But that is not to say that Finney's Systematic
Theology does not contain some significant theological statements. First, in
answer to the question, "Does a Christian cease to be a Christian,
whenever he commits a sin?", Finney answers:
Whenever
he sins, he must, for the time being, cease to be holy. This is self-evident.
Whenever he sins, he must be condemned; he must incur the penalty of the law of
God...If it be said that the precept is still binding upon him, but that with
respect to the Christian, the penalty is forever 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...In these respects, then, the sinning
Christian and the unconverted sinner are upon precisely the same ground. (p.
46)
Finney believed that God demanded absolute
perfection, but instead of that leading him to seek his perfect righteousness
in Christ, he concluded that
...full
present obedience is a condition of justification. 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...But can he be pardoned
and accepted, and justified, in the gospel sense, while sin, any degree of sin,
remains in him? Certainly not (p. 57).
With the Westminster Confession in his sights,
Finney declares of the Reformation's formula "simultaneously justified and
sinful", "This error has slain more souls, I fear, than all the
universalism that ever cursed the world." For, "Whenever a Christian
sins he comes under condemnation, and must repent and do his first works, or be
lost" (p. 60).
We will return to Finney's doctrine of
justification, but it must be noted that it rests upon a denial of the doctrine
of original sin. Held by both Roman Catholics and Protestants, this biblical
teaching insists that we are all born into this world inheriting Adam's guilt
and corruption. We are, therefore, in bondage to a sinful nature. As someone
has said, "We sin because we're sinners": the condition of sin
determines the acts of sin, rather than vice versa. But Finney followed
Pelagius, the 5th-century heretic, who was condemned by more church councils
than any other person in church history, in denying this doctrine.
Instead, Finney believed that human beings were
capable of choosing whether they would be corrupt by nature or redeemed,
referring to original sin as an "anti-scriptural and nonsensical
dogma" (p. 179). In clear terms, Finney denied the notion that human
beings possess a sinful nature (ibid.). Therefore, if Adam leads us into sin,
not by our inheriting his guilt and corruption, but by following his poor
example, this leads logically to the view of Christ, the Second Adam, as saving
by example. This is precisely where Finney takes it, in his explanation of the
atonement.
The first thing we must note about the atonement,
Finney says, is that Christ could not have died for anyone else's sins than his
own. His obedience to the law and his perfect righteousness were sufficient to
save him, but could not legally be accepted on behalf of others. That Finney's
whole theology is driven by a passion for moral improvement is seen on this
very point: "If he [Christ] had obeyed the Law as our substitute, then why
should our own return to personal obedience be insisted upon as a sine qua non
of our salvation?" (p. 206). In other words, why would God insist that we
save ourselves by our own obedience if Christ's work was sufficient? The reader
should recall the words of St. Paul in this regard, "I do not nullify the
grace of God; for if justification comes through the law, then Christ died for
nothing." It would seem that Finney's reply is one of agreement. The
difference is, he has no difficulty believing both of those premises.
That is not entirely fair, of course, because
Finney did believe that Christ died for something--not for someone--but for
something. In other words, he died for a purpose, but not for people. The
purpose of that death was to reassert God's moral government and to lead us to
eternal life by example, as Adam's example excited us to sin. Why did Christ
die? God knew that "The atonement would present to creatures the highest
possible motives to virtue. Example is the highest moral influence that can be
exerted...If the benevolence manifested in the atonement does not subdue the
selfishness of sinners, their case is hopeless" (p. 209). Therefore, we
are not helpless sinners who need to be redeemed, but wayward sinners who need
a demonstration of selflessness so moving that we will be excited to leave off
selfishness. Not only did Finney believe that the "moral influence"
theory of the atonement was the chief way of understanding the cross; he
explicitly denied the substitutionary atonement, which "...assumes that
the atonement was a literal payment of a debt, which we have seen does not
consist with the nature of the atonement...It is true, that the atonement, of
itself, does not secure the salvation of anyone" (p. 217).
Then there is the matter of applying redemption.
Throwing off the Calvinistic orthodoxy of the older Presbyterians and
Congregationalists, Finney argued strenuously against the belief that the new
birth is a divine gift, insisting that "regeneration consists in the
sinner changing his ultimate choice, intention, preference; or in changing from
selfishness to love or benevolence," as moved by the moral influence of
Christ's moving example (p. 224). "Original or constitutional sinfulness,
physical regeneration, and all their kindred and resulting dogmas, are alike
subversive of the gospel, and repulsive to the human intelligence" (p.
236).
Having nothing to do with original sin, a
substitutionary atonement, and the supernatural character of the new birth,
Finney proceeds to attack "the article by which the church stands or
falls"--justification by grace alone through faith alone.
The Protestant Reformers insisted, on the basis of
clear biblical texts, that justification (in the Greek, "to declare
righteous," rather than "to make righteous") was a forensic
(i.e., "legal") verdict. In other words, whereas Rome maintained that
justification was a process of making a bad person better, the Reformers argued
that it was a declaration or pronouncement that had someone else's
righteousness (i.e., Christ's) as its basis. Therefore, it was a perfect,
once-and-for-all verdict of right-standing at the beginning of the Christian
life, not in the middle or at the end.
The key words in the evangelical doctrine are
"forensic" (meaning "legal") and "imputation"
(crediting one's account, as opposed to the idea of "infusion" of a
righteousness within a person's soul). Knowing all of this, Finney declares,
But
for sinners to be forensically pronounced just, is impossible and absurd...As
we shall see, there are many conditions, while there is but one ground, of the
justification of sinners...As has already been said, there can be no
justification in a legal or forensic sense, but upon the ground of universal,
perfect, and uninterrupted obedience to law. This is of course denied by those
who hold that gospel justification, or the justification of penitent sinners,
is of the nature of a forensic or judicial justification. They hold to the
legal maxim that what a man does by another he does by himself, and therefore
the law regards Christ's obedience as ours, on the ground that he obeyed for
us.
To
this, Finney replies:
The
doctrine of an imputed righteousness, or that Christ's obedience to the law was
accounted as our obedience, is founded on a most false and nonsensical
assumption." After all, Christ's righteousness "could do no more than
justify himself. It can never be imputed to us...It was naturally impossible,
then, for him to obey in our behalf." This "representing of the
atonement as the ground of the sinner's justification has been a sad occasion
of stumbling to many" (pp. 320-322).
The view that faith is the sole condition of
justification is "the antinomian view," Finney asserts. "We
shall see that perseverance in obedience to the end of life is also a condition
of justification." Furthermore, "present sanctification, in the sense
of present full consecration to God, is another condition...of justification.
Some theologians have made justification a condition of sanctification, instead
of making sanctification a condition of justification. But this we shall see is
an erroneous view of the subject" (pp. 326-327). Each act of sin requires
"a fresh justification" (p. 331). Referring to "the framers of
the Westminster Confession of faith," and their view of an imputed
righteousness, Finney wonders, "If this is not antinomianism, I know not
what is" (p. 332). This legal business is unreasonable to Finney, so he
concludes, "I regard these dogmas as fabulous, and better befitting a
romance than a system of theology" (p. 333). He concludes in this section
against the Westminster Assembly:
The
relations of the old school view of justification to their view of depravity is
obvious. They hold, as we have seen, that the constitution in every faculty and
part is sinful. Of course, a return to personal, present holiness, in the sense
of entire conformity to the law, cannot with them be a condition of
justification. They must have a justification while yet at least in some degree
of sin. This must be brought about by imputed righteousness. The intellect
revolts at a justification in sin. So a scheme is devised to divert the eye of
the law and of the lawgiver from the sinner to his substitute, who has
perfectly obeyed the law (p. 339).
This he calls "another gospel."
Insisting that Paul's rather realistic account of the Christian life in Romans
7 actually refers to the apostle's life before he had experienced "entire
sanctification," Finney surpasses Wesley in arguing for the possibility of
complete holiness in this life. John Wesley maintained that it is possible for
a believer to attain full sanctification, but when he recognized that even the
holiest Christians sin, he accommodated his theology to this simple empirical
fact. He did this by saying that this experience of "Christian
perfection" was a matter of the heart, not of actions. In other words, a
Christian may be perfected in love, so that love is now the sole motivation for
one's actions, while occasionally making mistakes. Finney rejects this view and
insists that justification is conditioned on complete and total
perfection--that is, "conformity to the law of God entire," and not
only is the believer capable of this; when he or she transgresses at any point,
a fresh justification is required.
As the Princeton theologian B. B. Warfield pointed
out so eloquently, there are two religions throughout history: Heathenism--of
which Pelagianism is a religious expression--and supernatural redemption. And
with Warfield and those who so seriously warned their brothers and sisters of
these errors among Finney and his successors, we too must come to terms with
the wildly heterodox strain in American Protestantism. With roots in Finney's
revivalism, perhaps evangelical and liberal Protestantism are not that far
apart after all. His "New Measures," like today's church growth
movement, made human choices and emotions the center of the church's ministry,
ridiculed theology, and replaced the preaching of Christ with the preaching of
conversion.
It is upon Finney's naturalistic moralism that the
Christian political and social crusades build their faith in humanity and its
resources in self-salvation. Sounding not a little like a deist, Finney
declared, "There is nothing in religion beyond the ordinary powers of
nature. It consists entirely in the right exercise of the powers of nature. It
is just that, and nothing else. When mankind becomes truly religious, they are
not enabled to put forth exertions which they were unable before to put forth.
They only exert powers which they had before, in a different way, and use them
for the glory of God." Thus, as the new birth is a natural phenomenon, so
too a revival: "A revival is not a miracle, nor dependent on a miracle, in
any sense. It is a purely philosophical result of the right use of the
constituted means--as much so as any other effect produced by the application
of means." The belief that the new birth and revival depend necessarily on
divine activity is pernicious. "No doctrine," he says, "is more
dangerous than this to the prosperity of the Church, and nothing more
absurd" (Revivals of Religion [Revell], pp. 4-5). When the leaders
of the church growth movement claim that theology gets in the way of growth and
insist that it does not matter what a particular church believes: growth is a
matter of following the proper principles, they are displaying their debt to Finney.
When leaders of the Vineyard movement praise this sub-Christian enterprise and
the barking, roaring, screaming, laughing, and other strange phenomena on the
basis that "it works" and one must judge its truth by its fruit, they
are following Finney, as well as the father of American pragmatism, William
James, who declared that truth must be judged on the basis of "its
cash-value in experiential terms."
Thus, in Finney's theology, God is not sovereign;
man is not a sinner by nature; the atonement is not a true payment for sin;
justification by imputation is insulting to reason and morality; the new birth
is simply the effect of successful techniques, and revival is a natural result
of clever campaigns. In his fresh introduction to the bicentennial edition of Finney's
Systematic Theology, Harry Conn commends Finney's pragmatism:
"Many servants of our Lord should be diligently searching for a gospel
that 'works,' and I am happy to state they can find it in this volume." As
Whitney R. Cross has carefully documented in The Burned-Over District: The Social and
Intellectual History of Enthusiastic Religion in Western New York, 1800-1850
(Cornell University Press, 1950), the stretch of territory in which Finney's
revivals were most frequent was also the cradle of the perfectionistic cults
that plagued that century. A gospel that "works" for zealous
perfectionists one moment merely creates tomorrow's disillusioned and spent
super-saints.
Needless to say, Finney's message is radically
different from the evangelical faith, as is the basic orientation of the
movements we see around us today the bear his imprint: revivalism (or its
modern label, "the church growth movement"), Pentecostal
perfectionism and emotionalism, political triumphalism based on the ideal of
"Christian America," and the anti-intellectual, anti-doctrinal
tendencies of American evangelicalism and fundamentalism. It was through the
"Higher Life Movement" of the late 19th and early 20th centuries that
Finney's perfectionism came to dominate the fledgling Dispensationalist
movement through the auspices of Lewis Sperry Chafer, founder of Dallas
Seminary and author of He That Is Spiritual. Finney, of
course, is not solely responsible; he is more a product than a producer.
Nevertheless, the influence he exercised and continues to exercise to this day
is pervasive.
Not only did the revivalist abandon the material
principle of the Reformation (justification), making him a renegade against
evangelical Christianity; he repudiated doctrines, such as original sin and the
substitutionary atonement, that have been embraced by Roman Catholics and
Protestants alike. Therefore, Finney is not merely an Arminian, but a Pelagian.
He is not only an enemy of evangelical Protestantism, but of historic
Christianity of the broadest sort.
I do not point these things out with relish, as if
to cheerfully denounce the heroes of American evangelicals. Nevertheless, it is
always best, when one has lost something valuable, to retrace one's steps in
order to determine when and where one last had it in his or her possession.
That is the purpose of this exercise, to face with some honesty the serious
departure from biblical Christianity that occurred through American revivalism.
For until we address this shift, we will perpetuate a distorted and dangerous
course. Of one thing Finney was absolutely correct: The Gospel held by the
Westminster divines whom he attacked directly, and indeed held by the whole
company of evangelicals, is "another gospel" in distinction from the
one proclaimed by Charles Finney. The question of our moment is, With which
gospel will we side?
1 [ Back ]
Unless otherwise specified, all quotes are from Charles G. Finney, Finney's Systematic
Theology (Bethany, 1976).
Michael Horton is the J. Gresham Machen professor
of apologetics and systematic theology at Westminster Seminary California
(Escondido, California), host of the White Horse Inn, national radio
broadcast, and editor-in-chief of Modern Reformation magazine. He is
author of many books, including The Gospel-Driven Life, Christless
Christianity, People and Place, Putting
Amazing Back Into Grace, The Christian Faith, and For
Calvinism.
Issue: "Life Under the Big Top: When
Evangelism Undermines the Evangel" Jan./Feb. 1995 Vol. 4 No. 1 Page
number(s): 5-9
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