0,49 €
In "The Religious Affections," Jonathan Edwards explores the nature of true religion and the emotional experiences that accompany genuine faith. Written in the 18th century, this seminal work blends rigorous theological analysis with a profound understanding of human psychology, revealing the complexities of spiritual feelings. Edwards employs a methodical yet impassioned literary style, developing his arguments through a series of observations that assess the authenticity of religious experiences. The text stands as a cornerstone of American Puritan thought, reflecting the fervor of the First Great Awakening while grappling with the tensions between emotionalism and the rationality of faith. Jonathan Edwards (1703-1758), a prominent preacher and theologian, is known for his pivotal role in the revivalist movement that swept through colonial America. His upbringing in New England's religious milieu and his extraordinary intellectual pursuits led him to emphasize the importance of personal conversion and spiritual vitality. Influenced by his Puritan background, Edwards's writings delve into the interplay of emotion and intellect in religious experience, providing a framework that has resonated through centuries of theological discourse. For those seeking a deeper understanding of the heart's role in religious life, "The Religious Affections" is invaluable. It not only invites readers to reflect on their own spiritual experiences but also illuminates the historical context of American Christianity. Edwards's insights remain strikingly relevant, making this work a must-read for theologians, historians, and anyone interested in the foundational aspects of faith. In this enriched edition, we have carefully created added value for your reading experience: - A succinct Introduction situates the work's timeless appeal and themes. - The Synopsis outlines the central plot, highlighting key developments without spoiling critical twists. - A detailed Historical Context immerses you in the era's events and influences that shaped the writing. - An Author Biography reveals milestones in the author's life, illuminating the personal insights behind the text. - A thorough Analysis dissects symbols, motifs, and character arcs to unearth underlying meanings. - Reflection questions prompt you to engage personally with the work's messages, connecting them to modern life. - Hand‐picked Memorable Quotes shine a spotlight on moments of literary brilliance. - Interactive footnotes clarify unusual references, historical allusions, and archaic phrases for an effortless, more informed read.
Das E-Book können Sie in Legimi-Apps oder einer beliebigen App lesen, die das folgende Format unterstützen:
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023
A flare of zeal can warm the soul or scorch the truth, and Jonathan Edwards wrote to tell the difference.
The Religious Affections endures as a classic because it confronts a perennial human puzzle with uncommon clarity: how to discern genuine spiritual experience from its counterfeits. Across generations, readers have found in Edwards a rare blend of philosopher’s rigor and pastor’s care, a voice that neither dismisses religious emotions nor surrenders to them. Its long afterlife in American letters and theology owes much to its disciplined argument, lucid prose, and searching moral vision. By shaping conversations about revival, sincerity, and virtue, it has influenced classrooms, pulpits, and debates about the nature of authentic faith.
Written by the New England minister and theologian Jonathan Edwards and first published in 1746, the book emerged in the wake of the First Great Awakening, a season of intense religious fervor and controversy. Edwards sought to address the enthusiasm, skepticism, and confusion that revival unleashed. The Religious Affections examines the springs of religious feeling, asking what marks separate divinely wrought transformation from temporary excitement. In doing so, Edwards set out not to quench zeal but to refine it, providing a careful standard by which to test experience, order the inner life, and encourage durable devotion grounded in truth.
At its core, the treatise proposes that the affections—those strong inclinations of the heart—are central to true religion, yet they must be judged by sound criteria. Edwards proceeds methodically: he explains the nature and importance of spiritual affections, distinguishes signs that are inconclusive from those that truly indicate grace, and applies those principles to lived character. The work does not reduce faith to emotion, nor does it confine it to bare assent. It asks what kind of change endures over time, what fruits appear in conduct, and how love, humility, and obedience reveal the source of one’s zeal.
Edwards’s purpose was pastoral as well as diagnostic. He wrote to console the conscientious, caution the impulsive, and guide communities sorting through the aftermath of revival. He aimed to protect churches from credulity on one side and cynicism on the other, showing that head and heart are not enemies but allies under the light of divine truth. He wanted readers to prize joyful, vigorous devotion while refusing to mistake noise for depth. The book’s intention is thus not to reduce religious life to tests, but to stabilize it through careful discernment, fostering maturity that perseveres rather than emotion that evaporates.
As literature, The Religious Affections displays the sinewy logic and plain style of eighteenth-century New England prose. Edwards moves with measured patience, building arguments from close reasoning, scriptural reflection, and observation of human behavior. He employs images sparingly yet memorably, preferring precision to ornament. The effect is cumulative: paragraphs advance like well-placed stones, each supporting the next, until a sturdy path appears. Readers encounter not a string of aphorisms but a sustained moral analysis, one that respects the complexity of the soul. The unabridged form preserves the full architecture of this argument, rewarding careful attention with clarity.
Its impact is evident in the way later thinkers framed questions about conversion, character, and community. By insisting that authentic spirituality is known by its enduring fruits, the book shaped pastoral practice, devotional literature, and public assessments of revival movements. It helped establish a vocabulary for talking about discernment—testing, signs, and marks—that remains influential in many traditions. Beyond churches, scholars of American thought recognize it as a cornerstone of early national intellectual life, where moral psychology, rhetoric, and theology intersect. Its arguments continue to inform debates over sincerity, authenticity, and the formation of stable moral agency.
The book’s themes are enduring because they reach beneath circumstance to the dynamics of desire, judgment, and habit. It warns that intensity alone proves little, that sudden impressions may mislead, and that true affection aligns with reality and produces resilient virtue. It celebrates the harmony of truth and love, knowledge and delight, doctrine and devotion. Readers are invited to consider not merely what they feel but what they become, to weigh impressions by their fruits over time. In this vision, the deepest religious experience is neither cold nor chaotic, but steady, luminous, and transformative in ordinary faithfulness.
Part of the work’s strength lies in its balance. Edwards refuses to dismiss emotion as suspect, yet he rejects a spirituality governed by impulse. He does not render judgment on the basis of social respectability or novelty, but by careful criteria that can be applied across contexts. This measured posture gives the book a fair-minded authority that commands trust. It offers both encouragement and correction, creating space for fervor without fanaticism and for reflection without sterility. By holding together devotion and discernment, it provides a framework that honors the lived realities of spiritual life in both calm and crisis.
Contemporary readers will find the questions it raises surprisingly fresh. In an age suspicious of institutions yet hungry for meaning, prone to performative feeling and rapid opinion, discernment is urgent. The Religious Affections commends practices of examination, patience, and accountability that resist quick judgments and shallow metrics. It invites individuals and communities to cultivate depth over display, coherence over whim, and constancy over novelty. Its counsel speaks to personal formation, leadership, and communal health, offering a steadying vision for those navigating polarized environments and fluctuating emotions without abandoning hope, joy, or the pursuit of moral clarity.
The unabridged edition’s value is in its fullness: readers see Edwards’s care in distinguishing cases, nuancing terms, and anticipating objections. The cumulative discipline of the argument is part of its formative power; one learns discernment by walking alongside his reasoning. The prose demands attention but rewards it with insight that is portable and practical. The book evokes sobriety, gratitude, and a renewed desire for integrity. It speaks not only to the devout but to the curious outsider, offering a window into a mind determined to love what is true without fear of testing beloved assumptions.
To read The Religious Affections is to enter a conversation about the heart’s loves and the character they create. Written in 1746 by Jonathan Edwards amid the reverberations of revival, it has become a classic because it joins theological depth, pastoral wisdom, and literary clarity in service of lasting questions. Its themes—authenticity, transformation, humility, perseverance—remain compelling, and its method trains readers to think and feel with integrity. By calling for affections shaped by truth and proved in life, it offers a vision of faith that is both radiant and resilient, inviting reflection that bears enduring fruit.
The Religious Affections (Unabridged) by Jonathan Edwards is a theological treatise concerned with discerning the nature of genuine Christian experience. Written in the wake of the revivals of the Great Awakening, it addresses how to distinguish true spiritual renewal from merely natural or counterfeit impressions. Edwards frames the book around the question of what the Bible calls affections - the vigorous inclinations and sensibilities of the heart - and how they relate to saving faith. He aims to offer criteria that are neither cynical nor naive, so pastors and believers can assess religious excitement responsibly. The work proceeds in three parts that build a cumulative case.
In the opening section, Edwards defines affections and argues that true religion consists very much in holy affections. By affections he means the powerful movements of the will and heart, not fleeting moods. He collects biblical examples to show that faith, love, fear, joy, hope, and sorrow, when sanctified, are integral to real piety. Mere speculation or bare assent is insufficient without a taste for divine things. He insists that God engages the whole person, so that spiritual understanding necessarily stirs the heart. This foundation sets the stage for discernment, guarding against both cold formalism and the uncritical celebration of emotional displays.
Edwards further clarifies that affections are central because they govern action and reveal what the soul esteems. When divine truth is seen as excellent, it draws the heart with a new sense given by the Holy Spirit. He distinguishes this supernatural sense from natural temperament or education, noting that gracious affections incline the will toward God for who he is, not merely for benefits received. Yet he cautions that strong feeling alone does not authenticate grace. With these principles established, he transitions to the need for tests that neither extinguish zeal nor bless delusion, preparing readers to weigh the evidence thoughtfully.
The middle section begins by stating that many commonly admired phenomena are no certain signs of a work of God. Edwards surveys examples that, by themselves, neither prove nor disprove true grace. Very high degrees of emotion, sudden starts of joy or fear, or powerful impressions on the imagination are not decisive. Bodily effects, such as tears, trembling, or loud expressions, likewise cannot settle the question. He also warns that unusual experiences or dramatic stories, even when moving, are ambiguous. These observations aim to cool hasty judgments, reminding readers that the intensity or novelty of religious feeling is not a safe guide.
He continues with further cautions. Abundant talk about spiritual matters, fluent religious language, or frequent citation of Scripture texts may accompany true religion but do not distinguish it. Zeal and boldness, even when public and costly, can spring from mixed motives. Assurance or confident claims to divine favor can be mistaken, as can outward reformation, diligent attendance at worship, or devotion to methods and forms. Even affections that seem to overflow in love or joy may be self-referential. These negative rules are meant as pastoral safeguards, preventing false security and clearing the ground for marks that truly separate the gracious from the spurious.
Having cleared away unreliable signs, Edwards turns to positive, distinguishing marks of gracious affections. First, they arise from divine light imparting a spiritual sense of the excellence of God and the gospel. The object cherished is God himself in his moral beauty, not merely gifts, relief, or self-advancement. Such affections spring from a new apprehension of truth, producing an inward conviction of the reality of divine things. They alter the judgment and relish of the soul. Genuine love for holiness, as holiness, is central. This God-centered origin differentiates true grace from natural enthusiasm, anchoring the heart in what is supremely worthy.
Edwards next describes how gracious affections shape character. They are attended with evangelical humility, a lowliness that exalts Christ and distrusts self. They yield a meek, gentle, and forgiving temper rather than a harsh or censorious spirit. They enlarge the heart with disinterested love toward God and neighbor, producing a steady bias toward mercy and righteousness. True affections are proportioned and balanced, not wild in one respect and barren in others. They submit to God's sovereignty, prize his holiness, and are sensitive to sin. This inward transformation manifests the image of Christ, marking a change deeper than transient excitement or external compliance.
The final distinguishing signs concern perseverance and practice. Genuine affections endure, proving themselves over time, especially under trial. They promote careful obedience, faithfulness in ordinary duties, and a hunger for holiness that extends beyond seasons of revival. They drive the believer toward Scripture, prayer, and self-examination, fostering teachability and circumspection rather than presumption. They bear consistent fruit in good works and in ordered affections that harmonize with the whole counsel of God. By making practice the chief evidence, Edwards insists that the truest test of experience is sustained, God-honoring living, not momentary fervor or private impressions, however vivid or memorable.
In conclusion, The Religious Affections offers a framework for discerning spiritual experience that is rigorous, scriptural, and practical. It affirms the necessity of heartfelt religion while warning against judging by intensity, novelty, or show. By arranging the argument from the nature of affections, through uncertain signs, to distinguishing marks, Edwards seeks to guide readers toward mature evaluation and steady piety. The book's central message is that real grace is God-centered, humble, transformative, balanced, and persevering, and that its clearest proof lies in Christian practice. Intended for pastors and believers amid revival, the treatise aims to foster purity, clarity, and lasting devotion.
Jonathan Edwards composed The Religious Affections in the British North American colonies during the 1740s, publishing it in Boston in 1746. The work grew out of pastoral experience in Northampton, a market town on the upper Connecticut River in the Province of Massachusetts Bay. New England was still shaped by Puritan Congregationalism, with town churches central to civic life and covenant theology ordering social expectations. Population growth, expanding commerce, and a volatile frontier generated both optimism and anxiety. The transatlantic Protestant world linked New England to Britain and the Caribbean through trade, letters, and print, making Edwards’s reflections part of a larger imperial conversation about true religion and public order.
Religious life in New England had been formed by seventeenth century reforms, but by the 1730s it faced contested practices and generational change. Parish governance followed earlier platforms that tied churches to town politics and regional associations. Ministers were educated at Harvard or Yale, and sermons were the chief mass medium. The Religious Affections emerged from a climate of revivals, controversies about visible sainthood, and disputes over ministerial authority. It uses careful analysis of the signs of genuine piety to arbitrate disputes that were dividing families, congregations, and colonies. The immediate setting was not fictional but the lived tensions of a society wrestling with how to judge spiritual experience responsibly.
The First Great Awakening was a transatlantic wave of Protestant revivals spanning roughly the 1730s to 1750s, with a New England crest between 1739 and 1742. It involved itinerant preaching, heightened lay participation, and intense conversions. Figures such as George Whitefield, Gilbert Tennent, and numerous local pastors stirred large audiences from Georgia to Maine, while British and Scottish evangelicals exchanged reports and funds. Edwards saw both spiritual fruit and excess. The Religious Affections is his most systematic attempt to define reliable marks of grace amid revival tumult, affirming the necessity of transformed affections while denying that noise, novelty, or bodily agitation can certify the Spirit’s work.
A key precursor was the Northampton revival of 1734 to 1735 under Edwards’s ministry. Beginning late in 1734 after sermons on justification by faith, the town experienced an unusual increase in professions of conversion, with reports of several hundred new communicants in a community of a few thousand. Edwards later narrated events in A Faithful Narrative of the Surprising Work of God, printed in 1737 and widely circulated in Britain. The Northampton episode supplied concrete cases of sudden conviction, deep sorrow, and lasting reform, but also of backsliding. The Religious Affections builds criteria from these observations, insisting that genuine grace produces durable holy practice, not merely transient excitement.
George Whitefield’s New England tour in 1740 to 1741 magnified revival intensity and controversy. He preached to many thousands in cities like Boston, where crowds gathered on the Common, and visited inland towns, including Northampton in October 1740, moving both Edwards and his wife Sarah to tears. Whitefield’s dramatic style, daily journals, and intercolonial fame galvanized itinerancy and divided clergy. In the wake of his tour, reports of outcries, fainting, and mass weeping multiplied. Edwards welcomed the spiritual seriousness but feared confusion between divine operations and natural passions. The Religious Affections responds by anchoring true religion in a new spiritual sense that inclines the will toward God and bears measurable fruit.
The Old Light versus New Light controversy erupted as ministers and laypeople disputed the revivals’ legitimacy. In Boston, Charles Chauncy of First Church criticized what he viewed as disorderly enthusiasm, publishing Seasonable Thoughts on the State of Religion in New England in 1743. Advocates like Thomas Prince defended the awakenings through The Christian History, a weekly started in 1743 to document credible accounts. This debate shaped colonial opinion, seminary curricula, and parish discipline. The Religious Affections enters this argument by providing discriminating tests that neither dismiss revivals outright nor accept every fervent display, thus arming New Light defenders with standards while answering Old Light concerns about credulity and excess.
Extreme episodes intensified scrutiny, notably the ministry of James Davenport, an itinerant from Southold, Long Island. Between 1741 and 1743 he denounced ministers he deemed unconverted, urged visible separations, and staged public bonfires in New London that consumed wigs and religious books. Civil authorities in Massachusetts and Connecticut intervened; Davenport faced examinations, and in 1743 he was judged disorderly, later publishing a retraction in 1744. These spectacles crystallized fears of fanaticism. The Religious Affections directly addresses such disorders by arguing that strong emotions and bodily effects are neither proofs nor disproofs of grace, shifting judgment to enduring humility, love, and obedience observable in a believer’s life and community.
Longstanding disputes about church membership formed crucial background. The 1662 Half Way Covenant allowed baptism for the children of baptized but noncommunicant parents. In Northampton, Edwards’s grandfather Solomon Stoddard had gone further, advocating open communion as a converting ordinance and admitting many to the Lord’s Supper. This practice broadened visible church boundaries but muddled evidences of regeneration. Edwards’s analysis of the affections presses in the opposite direction, insisting that sacraments and church privileges require signs of new birth that transcend mere moral decency. The treatise thus reflects a generational turn from Stoddardean leniency toward more careful examination of profession and life before granting ecclesial participation.
Awakenings also surged in the Middle Colonies, where Presbyterian debates illuminated New England disputes. William Tennent’s Log College in Pennsylvania trained fervent pastors, and Gilbert Tennent’s 1740 sermon The Danger of an Unconverted Ministry accused complacent clergy of spiritual deadness. Conflict culminated in the 1741 split of the Synod of Philadelphia into Old Side and New Side factions. These controversies emphasized ministerial character, lay judgment, and the signs of grace across denominational lines. Edwards corresponded with allies and read reports from these regions, and The Religious Affections offers criteria that could travel beyond Congregational polity, providing a common evangelical grammar for discerning genuine conversion amid widespread contention.
Print culture and correspondence bound revivalists into a common sphere. Edwards’s Faithful Narrative was republished in London in 1737 with commendations from Isaac Watts and John Guyse, shaping British perceptions of New England piety. In Boston, Thomas Prince and his son launched The Christian History in 1743 to collect credible revival accounts, while critics issued pamphlets challenging testimonies. Sermon pamphlets, broadsides, and journals disseminated stories of awakenings and scandals alike. The Religious Affections presupposes this exchange, repeatedly appealing to observed cases and inviting readers to judge claims by scriptural and experiential tests, thereby disciplining a noisy public conversation with sober theological and pastoral method.
Civil authorities attempted to stabilize the situation through legislation and college discipline. In 1742 the Connecticut General Assembly passed an act restricting itinerant preaching without local consent, and Massachusetts enacted similar measures later that year. Yale’s leadership, navigating student unrest, issued regulations and censures against unapproved revival activities. Town councils and church associations convened inquiries into disorders and separations. The Religious Affections aligns with prudent governance by distinguishing zeal from zealotry, granting magistrates and ministers a conceptual tool to evaluate movements. It supports revival in principle while supplying standards that justify restraint where fervor usurps lawful order, thus speaking into the legal and institutional management of religion.
Imperial warfare heightened colonial anxiety and apocalyptic expectation. During King George’s War, 1744 to 1748, New England mustered forces under William Pepperrell to capture Louisbourg on Cape Breton in June 1745, while French allied raids threatened frontier towns in western Massachusetts and beyond. Northampton and neighboring settlements knew the risk of violence and the strain of military levies. Such pressures amplified sermons on divine judgment and national repentance. Edwards’s focus on inward transformation does not ignore these alarms; by relocating assurance to holy affections proven in daily conduct, the treatise offers stability amid public danger, urging a repentance that outlasts wartime spikes in fear and attendance.
Native missions shaped the evangelical horizon. John Sergeant began work among the Mahican at Stockbridge in 1734, with support from the New England Company, and created a model mission town in western Massachusetts. David Brainerd labored among Delaware Indians in New Jersey and Pennsylvania, recording remarkable awakenings at Crossweeksung in 1745 before dying in Northampton in 1747. Edwards later edited Brainerd’s journals, publishing them in 1749. These efforts raised questions about the marks of genuine conversion across languages and customs. The Religious Affections answers by rooting true piety in God given delight and transformation, applicable among English colonists and indigenous converts under the same scriptural tests.
An intellectual climate of empirical inquiry and moral philosophy influenced colonial clergy. Edwards, a Yale graduate in 1720, read John Locke’s Essay Concerning Human Understanding and adapted its psychological insights to theology, speaking of affections as vigorous inclinations of the soul. Newtonian science and mathematical method were esteemed in colleges and sermons, encouraging careful observation. While not capitulating to secular rationalism, Edwards uses disciplined analysis of experience to separate durable grace from transient impressions. The Religious Affections thus mirrors an Enlightenment era expectation that claims be examined with rigor, even as it asserts that the Spirit imparts a new sense beyond natural reason’s unaided reach.
A widely reported local episode was Edwards’s sermon at Enfield, Connecticut, on July 8, 1741, titled Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God. Eyewitnesses described hearers crying out, clutching pews, and pleading for mercy as he expounded divine wrath and the precariousness of life. The sermon was quickly printed and circulated. Such bodily responses became emblematic of the awakenings and a flashpoint in public debate. In The Religious Affections, Edwards explicitly warns that tears, tremblings, or ecstatic transports do not certify true religion, and he returns judgment to long term fruits such as Christlike love, perseverance, and submission to God’s authority in church and common life.
By proposing a taxonomy of gracious and counterfeit signs, the book functions as social critique. It rebukes communities that equate church standing with lineage, rank, or mere decency, exposing how civic respectability can mask unrenewed hearts. It equally censures populist spiritual pride that despises settled ministry and lawful oversight. Edwards’s criteria pressure both elites and enthusiasts, insisting that public credibility flows from tested virtue. In a time when pamphlets and rumors swayed reputations, this insistence disciplines talk about conversion and leadership, calling for transparent accountability and the reordering of communal honor around verifiable holiness rather than charismatic display or inherited privilege.
The Religious Affections also carries political implications for a self governing provincial society. By tying assurance to observable obedience and charity, it strengthens the moral foundations of town covenants and colonial assemblies while denying sanction to coercive or theatrical religiosity. It undercuts clerical patronage systems that tolerate unconverted officeholders, and it challenges separatist impulses that fracture neighborhoods without just cause. The work exposes injustices bred by faction, slander, and economic self dealing masked as zeal, advocating a tested, patient piety as the remedy. In doing so, it offers a program for reform that blends spiritual discernment with social stability, aiming to heal a divided public.
Jonathan Edwards (1703–1758) was an American theologian, philosopher, and pastor whose thought helped define the First Great Awakening and set enduring terms for Protestant theology in North America. Educated in the New England Puritan tradition yet conversant with Enlightenment philosophy, he combined rigorous metaphysics with urgent homiletics. His prose, at once analytical and imaginatively charged, made sermons such as "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God" emblematic of revival preaching. Across treatises and pastoral writings, Edwards argued for the absolute sovereignty and beauty of God, the nature of true religious experience, and the moral affections that reveal authentic piety.
He was born in the Connecticut River Valley in the early eighteenth century and educated at the Collegiate School in New Haven, later known as Yale College. There he studied classical languages, logic, theology, and the new natural philosophy, remaining for a period as a tutor. Edwards engaged deeply with Reformed scholastic divinity while reading contemporary thinkers, notably John Locke on ideas and Isaac Newton on the order of nature. This intellectual synthesis shaped his lifelong interest in the psychology of conversion, the relation of divine sovereignty to human agency, and the ways reason and revelation illuminate one another.
Edwards began ministerial work in New York and later assisted, then succeeded, a prominent pastor in Northampton, Massachusetts, a thriving Connecticut Valley town. In the mid-1730s he witnessed an intense local revival and described it in A Faithful Narrative of the Surprising Work of God, which circulated widely in Britain and New England. As the broader transatlantic awakening gathered force, he preached and wrote to interpret its meaning, producing The Distinguishing Marks of a Work of the Spirit of God and Some Thoughts Concerning the Present Revival. His most famous sermon, delivered in the early 1740s, used stark imagery to summon hearers to repentance.
Edwards’s Treatise Concerning Religious Affections, published in the mid-1740s, offered his most influential account of true conversion. He argued that genuine religion consists not merely in emotional excitement or outward works but in a new spiritual sense that delights in God’s excellence. Distinguishing counterfeit signs from reliable marks, he located authentic faith in transformed affections ordered by divine beauty and truth. The treatise drew on his pastoral observation and his philosophical engagement with cognition and desire. It supplied criteria for discerning revival fruit while defending the experiential dimensions of Christianity against both enthusiasm and cold rationalism.
Pastoral tensions over church discipline and admission to communion culminated in Edwards’s dismissal from Northampton around 1750. He moved west to Stockbridge, a frontier mission town, where he ministered to English settlers and Indigenous communities and contended with local political interests. In this relative seclusion he produced major works: Freedom of the Will, defending a compatibilist account of moral agency; Original Sin, arguing for humanity’s shared corruption; and the Life of David Brainerd, which modeled missionary piety. Ethical and teleological reflections later appeared posthumously as The Nature of True Virtue and The End for Which God Created the World.
In the late 1750s Edwards accepted the presidency of the College of New Jersey, an institution devoted to training clergy and civic leaders. Shortly after assuming the post he died following complications from smallpox inoculation, leaving a vast cache of sermons, miscellanies, and notebooks. His passing cut short planned reforms in theological education, but his manuscripts, letters, and published works continued to circulate, shaping Protestant thought on both sides of the Atlantic. Editors in subsequent generations gathered portions of this material into printed collections. A substantial cache remains the basis for ongoing scholarly editions.
Edwards’s legacy has been complex and durable. Admirers regard him as the most probing theologian of early America, a thinker who integrated Puritan piety with philosophical rigor and whose prose remains a touchstone of religious rhetoric. Critics have scrutinized aspects of his revival program and, importantly, his participation in the system of slavery, which has become a significant part of modern reassessment. Scholarly editions and ongoing research have broadened access to his corpus, and his arguments about grace, freedom, affections, and divine glory continue to inform theology, philosophy of religion, and literary study.
There is no question whatsoever, that is of greater importance to mankind, and what is more concerns every individual person to be well resolved in, than this: What are the distinguishing qualifications of those that are in favor with God, and entitled to his eternal rewards? Or, which comes to the same thing, What is the nature of true religion?And wherein do lie the distinguishing notes of that virtue and holiness that is acceptable in the sight of God? But though it be of such importance, and though we have clear and abundant light in the word of God to direct us in this matter, yet there is no one point, wherein professing Christians do more differ one from another. It would be endless to reckon up the variety of opinions in this point, that divide the Christian world; making manifest the truth of that declaration of our Savior, "Strait is the gate and narrow is the way, that leads to life, and few there be that find it[1]."
The consideration of these things has long engaged me to attend to this matter, with the utmost diligence and care, and exactness of search and inquiry, that I have been capable of. It is a subject on which my mind has been peculiarly intent, ever since I first entered on the study of divinity. But as to the success of my inquiries it must be left to the judgment of the reader of the following treatise.
I am sensible it is much more difficult to judge impartially of that which is the subject of this discourse, in the midst of the dust and smoke of such a state of controversy, as this land is now in, about things of this nature. As it is more difficult to write impartially, so it is more difficult to read impartially. Many will probably be hurt in their spirits, to find so much that appertains to religious affection, here condemned: and perhaps indignation and contempt will be excited in others by finding so much here justified and approved. And it may be, some will be ready to charge me with inconsistency with myself, in so much approving some things, and so much condemning others; as I have found this has always been objected to by some, ever since the beginning of our late controversies about religion. It is a hard thing to be a hearty zealous friend of what has been good and glorious, in the late extraordinary appearances, and to rejoice much in it; and at the same time to see the evil and pernicious tendency of what has been bad, and earnestly to oppose that. But yet, I am humbly but fully persuaded, we shall never be in the way of truth, nor go on in a way acceptable to God, and tending to the advancement of Christ's kingdom till we do so. There is indeed something very mysterious in it, that so much good, and so much bad, should be mixed together in the church of God; as it is a mysterious thing, and what has puzzled and amazed many a good Christian, that there should be that which is so divine and precious, as the saving grace of God, and the new and divine nature dwelling in the same heart, with so much corruption, hypocrisy, and iniquity, in a particular saint. Yet neither of these is more mysterious than real. And neither of them is a new or rare thing. It is no new thing, that much false religion should prevail, at a time of great reviving of true religion, and that at such a time multitudes of hypocrites should spring up among true saints. It was so in that great reformation, and revival of religion, that was in Josiah's time; as appears by Jer. 3:10, and 4:3, 4, and also by the great apostasy that there was in the land, so soon after his reign. So it was in that great outpouring of the Spirit upon the Jews, that was in the days of John the Baptist; as appears by the great apostasy of that people so soon after so general an awakening, and the temporary religious comforts and joys of many: John 5:35, "Ye were willing for a season to rejoice in his light." So it was in those great commotions that were among the multitude, occasioned by the preaching of Jesus Christ; of the many that were then called, but few were chosen; of the multitude that were roused and affected by his preaching, and at one time or other appeared mightily engaged, full of admiration of Christ, and elevated with joy, but few were true disciples, that stood the shock of the great trials that came afterwards, and endured to the end. Many were like the stony ground, or thorny ground; and but few, comparatively, like the good ground. Of the whole heap that was gathered, great part was chaff; that the wind afterwards drove away; and the heap of wheat that was left, was comparatively small; as appears abundantly, by the history of the New Testament. So it was in that great outpouring of the Spirit that was in the apostles' days as appears by Matt. 24:10-13. Gal. 3:1, and 4:11, 15. Phil. 2:21, and 3:18, 19, and the two epistles to the Corinthians, and many other parts of the New Testament. And so it was in the great reformation from Popery. It appears plainly to have been in the visible church of God, in times of great reviving of religion, from time to time, as it is with the fruit trees in the spring; there are a multitude of blossoms, all of which appear fair and beautiful, and there is a promising appearance of young fruits; but many of them are but of short continuance; they soon fall off, and never come to maturity.
Not that it is to be supposed that it will always be so; for though there never will, in this world, be an entire purity, either in particular saints, in a perfect freedom from mixtures of corruption; or in the church of God, without any mixture of hypocrites with saints, and counterfeit religion, and false appearances of grace with true religion, and real holiness: yet it is evident, that there will come a time of much greater purity in the church of God, than has been in ages past; it is plain by these texts of Scripture, Isa. 52:1. Ezek. 44:6, 7, Joel 3:17. Zech. 14:21. Psal. 69:32, 35, 36. Isa 35:8, 10, chap. 4:3, 4. Ezek. 20:38. Psal. 37:9, 10, 21, 29. And one great reason of it will be that at that time God will give much greater light to his people, to distinguish between true religion and its counterfeits. Mal. 3:3, "And he shall sit as a refiner and purifier of silver: and he shall purify the sons of Levi, and purge them as gold and silver, that they may offer to the Lord an offering in righteousness." With ver. 18, which is a continuation of the prophecy of the same happy times. "Then shall ye return, and discern between the righteous and the wicked, between him that serveth God, and him that serveth him not."
It is by the mixture of counterfeit religion with true, not discerned and distinguished, that the devil has had his greatest advantage against the cause and kingdom of Christ, all along hitherto. It is by this means, principally, that he has prevailed against all revivings of religion, that ever have been since the first founding of the Christian church. By this, he hurt the cause of Christianity, in and after the apostolic age, much more than by all the persecutions of both Jews and Heathens. The apostles, in all their epistles, show themselves much more concerned at the former mischief, than the latter. By this, Satan prevailed against the reformation, began by Luther. Zwinglius, &c., to put a stop to its progress, and bring it into disgrace; ten times more, than by all those bloody, cruel, and before unheard of persecutions of the church of Rome. By this, principally, has he prevailed against revivals of religion, that have been in our nation since the reformation. By this he prevailed against New England, to quench the love and spoil the joy of her espousals, about a hundred years ago. And I think, I have had opportunity enough to see plainly that by this the devil has prevailed against the late great revival of religion in New England, so happy and promising in its beginning. Here, most evidently has been the main advantage Satan has had against us; by this he has foiled us. It is by this means, that the daughter of Zion in this land now lies on the ground, in such piteous circumstances as we now behold her; with her garments rent, her face disfigured, her nakedness exposed, her limbs broken, and weltering in the blood of her own wounds, and in no wise able to arise, and this, so quickly after her late great joys and hopes: Lam. 1:17, "Zion spreadeth forth her hands, and there is none to comfort her: the Lord hath commanded concerning Jacob, that his adversaries shall be roundabout him: Jerusalem is as a menstruous woman among them." I have seen the devil prevail the same way, against two great revivings of religion in this country. Satan goes on with mankind, as he began with them. He prevailed against our first parents, and cast them out of paradise, and suddenly brought all their happiness and glory to an end, by appearing to be a friend to their happy paradisaic state, and pretending to advance it to higher degrees. So the same cunning serpent, that beguiled Eve through his subtlety, by perverting us from the simplicity that is in Christ, hath suddenly prevailed to deprive us of that fair prospect, we had a little while ago, of a kind of paradisaic state of the church of God in New England.
After religion has revived in the church of God, and enemies appear, people that are engaged to defend its cause, are commonly most exposed, where they are sensible of danger. While they are wholly intent upon the opposition that appears openly before them, to make head against that, and do neglect carefully to look all around them, the devil comes behind them, and gives a fatal stab unseen; and has opportunity to give a more home stroke, and wound the deeper, because he strikes at his leisure, and according to his pleasure, being obstructed by no guard or resistance.
And so it is ever likely to be in the church, whenever religion revives remarkably, till we have learned well to distinguish between true and false religion, between saving affections and experiences, and those manifold fair shows, and glistering appearances, by which they are counterfeited; the consequences of which, when they are not distinguished, are often inexpressibly dreadful. By this means, the devil gratifies himself, by bringing it to pass, that that should be offered to God, by multitudes, under a notion of a pleasing acceptable service to him, that is indeed above all things abominable to him. By this means he deceives great multitudes about the state of their souls; making them think they are something, when they are nothing; and so eternally undoes them; and not only so, but establishes many in a strong confidence of their eminent holiness, who are in God's sight some of the vilest of hypocrites. By this means, he many ways damps and wounds religion in the hearts of the saints, obscures and deforms it by corrupt mixtures, causes their religious affections woefully to degenerate, and sometimes, for a considerable time, to be like the manna that bred worms and stank; and dreadfully ensnares and confounds the minds of others of the saints and brings them into great difficulties and temptation, and entangles them in a wilderness, out of which they can by no means extricate themselves. By this means, Satan mightily encourages the hearts of open enemies of religion, and strengthens their hands, and fills them with weapons, and makes strong their fortresses; when, at the same time, religion and the church of God lie exposed to them, as a city without walls. By this means, he brings it to pass, that men work wickedness under a notion of doing God service, and so sin without restraint, yea with earnest forwardness and zeal, and with all their might. By this means he brings in even the friends of religion, insensibly to themselves, to do the work of enemies, by destroying religion in a far more effectual manner than open enemies can do, under a notion of advancing it. By this means the devil scatters the flock of Christ, and sets them one against another, and that with great heat of spirit, under a nation of zeal for God; and religion, by degrees degenerates into vain jangling; and during the strife, Satan leads both parties far out of the right way, driving each to great extremes, one on the right hand, and the other on the left, according as he finds they are most inclined, or most easily moved and swayed, till the right path in the middle is almost wholly neglected. And in the midst of this confusion, the devil has great opportunity to advance his own interest, and make it strong in ways innumerable, and get the government of all into his own hands and work his own will. And by what is seen of the terrible consequences of this counterfeit religion, when not distinguished from true religion, God's people in general have their minds unhinged and unsettled in things of religion, and know not where to set their foot, or what to think or do; and many are brought into doubts, whether there be anything in religion; and heresy, and infidelity, and atheism greatly prevail.
Therefore it greatly concerns us to use our utmost endeavors clearly to discern, and have it well settled and established, wherein true religion does consist. Till this be done, it may be expected, that great revivings of religion will be but of short continuance; till this be done, there is but little good to be expected of all our warm debates in conversation and from the press, not knowing clearly and distinctly what we ought to contend for.
My design is to contribute my mite, and use my best (however feeble) endeavors to this end, in the ensuing treatise; wherein it must be noted, that my design is somewhat diverse from the design of what I have formerly published, which was to show the distinguishing marks of a work of the Spirit of God, including both his common and saving operations; but what I aim at now, is to show the nature and signs of the gracious operations of God's Spirit, by which they are to be distinguished from all things whatsoever, that the minds of men are the subjects of, which are not of a saving nature. If I have succeeded, in this my aim, in any tolerable measure, I hope it will tend to promote the interest of religion. And whether I have succeeded to bring any light to this subject or no, and however my attempts may be reproached in these captious and censorious times, I hope in the mercy of a gracious God, for the acceptance of the sincerity of my endeavors; and hope also for the candor and prayers of the true followers of the meek and charitable Lamb of God.
1 Peter 1:8[2]: Whom having not seen, ye love; in whom, though now ye see him not, yet believing, ye rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory.
In these words, the apostle represents the state of the minds of the Christians he wrote to, under the persecutions[4] they were then the subjects of. These persecutions are what he has respect to, in the two preceding verses, when he speaks of the trial of their faith[3], and of their being in heaviness through manifold temptations.
Such trials[5] are of threefold benefit to true religion. Hereby the truth of it is manifested, and it appears to be indeed true religion; they, above all other things, have a tendency to distinguish between true religion and false, and to cause the difference between them evidently to appear. Hence they are called by the name of trials, in the verse nextly preceding the text, and in innumerable other places; they try the faith and religion of professors, of what sort it is, as apparent gold is tried in the fire, and manifested, whether it be true gold or no. And the faith of true Christians being thus tried and proved to be true, is "found to praise, and honor, and glory," as in that preceding verse.
And then, these trials are of further benefit to true religion; they not only manifest the truth of it, but they make its genuine beauty and amiableness remarkably to appear. True virtue never appears so lovely, as when it is most oppressed; and the divine excellency of real Christianity, is never exhibited with such advantage, as when under the greatest trials: then it is that true faith appears much more precious than gold! And upon this account is "found to praise, and honor, and glory."
And again, another benefit that such trials are of to true religion, is, that they purify and increase it. They not only manifest it to be true, but also tend to refine it, and deliver it from those mixtures of that which is false, which encumber and impede it; that nothing may be left but that which is true. They tend to cause the amiableness of true religion to appear to the best advantage, as was before observed; and not only so, but they tend to increase its beauty, by establishing and confirming it, and making it more lively and vigorous, and purifying it from those things that obscured its luster and glory. As gold that is tried in the fire, is purged from its alloy, and all remainders of dross, and comes forth more solid and beautiful; so true faith being tried as gold is tried in the fire, becomes more precious, and thus also is "found unto praise, and honor, and glory." The apostle seems to have respect to each of these benefits, that persecutions are of to true religion, in the verse preceding the text.
And, in the text, the apostle observes how true religion operated in the Christians he wrote to, under their persecutions, whereby these benefits of persecution appeared in them; or what manner of operation of true religion, in them, it was, whereby their religion, under persecution, was manifested to be true religion, and eminently appeared in the genuine beauty and amiableness of true religion, and also appeared to be increased and purified, and so was like to be "found unto praise, and honor, and glory, at the appearing of Jesus Christ.” And there were two kinds of operation, or exercise of true religion, in them, under their sufferings, that the apostle takes notice of in the text, wherein these benefits appeared.
1. Love to Christ: "Whom having not yet seen, ye love." The world was ready to wonder, what strange principle it was, that influenced them to expose themselves to so great sufferings, to forsake the things that were seen, and renounce all that was dear and pleasant, which was the object of sense. They seemed to the men of the world about them, as though they were beside themselves, and to act as though they hated themselves; there was nothing in their view, that could induce them thus to suffer, and support them under, and carry them through such trials. But although there was nothing that was seen, nothing that the world saw, or that the Christians themselves ever saw with their bodily eyes, that thus influenced and supported them, yet they had a supernatural principle of love to something unseen; they loved Jesus Christ, for they saw him spiritually whom the world saw not, and whom they themselves had never seen with bodily eyes.
2. Joy in Christ. Though their outward sufferings were very grievous, yet their inward spiritual joys were greater than their sufferings; and these supported them, and enabled them to suffer with cheerfulness.
There are two things which the apostle takes notice of in the text concerning this joy. 1. The manner in which it rises, the way in which Christ, though unseen, is the foundation of it, viz., by faith; which is the evidence of things not seen: "In whom, though now ye see him not, yet believing, ye rejoice." 2. The nature of this joy; "unspeakable and full of glory." Unspeakable in the kind of it; very different from worldly joys, and carnal delights; of a vastly more pure, sublime, and heavenly nature, being something supernatural, and truly divine, and so ineffably excellent; the sublimity and exquisite sweetness of which, there were no words to set forth. Unspeakable also in degree; it pleasing God to give them this holy joy, with a liberal hand, and in large measure, in their state of persecution.
Their joy was full of glory. Although the joy was unspeakable, and no words were sufficient to describe it, yet something might be said of it, and no words more fit to represent its excellency than these, that it was full of glory; or, as it is in the original, glorified joy. In rejoicing with this joy, their minds were filled, as it were, with a glorious brightness, and their natures exalted and perfected. It was a most worthy, noble rejoicing, that did not corrupt and debase the mind, as many carnal joys do; but did greatly beautify and dignify it; it was a prelibation of the joy of heaven, that raised their minds to a degree of heavenly blessedness; it filled their minds with the light of God's glory, and made themselves to shine with some communication of that glory.
Hence the proposition or doctrine, that I would raise from these words, is this:
DOCTRINE. True religion, in great part, consists in holy affections[6].[1q]
We see that the apostle, in observing and remarking the operations and exercises of religion in the Christians he wrote to, wherein their religion appeared to be true and of the right kind, when it had its greatest trial of what sort it was, being tried by persecution as gold is tried in the fire, and when their religion not only proved true, but was most pure, and cleansed from its dross and mixtures of that which was not true, and when religion appeared in them most in its genuine excellency and native beauty, and was found to praise, and honor, and glory; he singles out the religious affections of love and joy, that were then in exercise in them: these are the exercises of religion he takes notice of wherein their religion did thus appear true and pure, and in its proper glory. Here, I would,
1. Show what is intended by the affections.
2. Observe some things which make it evident, that a great part of true religion lies in the affections.
1. It may be inquired, what the affections of the mind are?
I answer: The affections are no other than the more vigorous and sensible exercises of the inclination and will of the soul.
God has endued the soul with two faculties: one is that by which it is capable of perception and speculation, or by which it discerns, and views, and judges of things; which is called the understanding. The other faculty is that by which the soul does not merely perceive and view things, but is some way inclined with respect to the things it views or considers; either is inclined to them, or is disinclined and averse from them; or is the faculty by which the soul does not behold things, as an indifferent unaffected spectator, but either as liking or disliking, pleased or displeased, approving or rejecting. This faculty is called by various names; it is sometimes called the inclination: and, as it has respect to the actions that are determined and governed by it, is called the will: and the mind, with regard to the exercises of this faculty, is often called the heart.
The exercise of this faculty are of two sorts; either those by which the soul is carried out towards the things that are in view, in approving of them, being pleased with them, and inclined to them; or those in which the soul opposes the things that are in view, in disapproving of them, and in being displeased with them, averse from them, and rejecting them.
And as the exercises of the inclination and will of the soul are various in their kinds, so they are much more various in their degrees. There are some exercises of pleasedness or displeasedness, inclination or disinclination, wherein the soul is carried but a little beyond the state of indifference.—And there are other degrees above this, wherein the approbation or dislike, pleasedness or aversion, are stronger, wherein we may rise higher and higher, till the soul comes to act vigorously and sensibly, and the actings of the soul are with that strength, that (through the laws of the union which the Creator has fixed between the soul and the body) the motion of the blood and animal spirits begins to be sensibly altered; whence oftentimes arises some bodily sensation, especially about the heart and vitals, that are the fountain of the fluids of the body: from whence it comes to pass, that the mind, with regard to the exercises of this faculty, perhaps in all nations and ages, is called the heart. And it is to be noted, that they are these more vigorous and sensible exercises of this faculty that are called the affections.
The will, and the affections of the soul, are not two faculties; the affections are not essentially distinct from the will, nor do they differ from the mere actings of the will, and inclination of the soul, but only in the liveliness and sensibleness of exercise.
It must be confessed, that language is here somewhat imperfect, and the meaning of words in a considerable measure loose and unfixed, and not precisely limited by custom, which governs the use of language. In some sense, the affection of the soul differs nothing at all from the will and inclination, and the will never is in any exercise any further than it is affected; it is not moved out of a state of perfect indifference, any otherwise than as it is affected one way or other, and acts nothing any further. But yet there are many actings of the will and inclination, that are not so commonly called affections: in everything we do, wherein we act voluntarily, there is an exercise of the will and inclination; it is our inclination that governs us in our actions; but all the actings of the inclination and will, in all our common actions of life, are not ordinarily called affections. Yet, what are commonly called affections are not essentially different from them, but only in the degree and manner of exercise. In every act of the will whatsoever, the soul either likes or dislikes, is either inclined or disinclined to what is in view: these are not essentially different from those affections of love and hatred: that liking or inclination of the soul to a thing, if it be in a high degree, and be vigorous and lively, is the very same thing with the affection of love; and that disliking and disinclining, if in a greater degree, is the very same with hatred. In every act of the will for, or towards something not present, the soul is in some degree inclined to that thing; and that inclination, if in a considerable degree, is the very same with the affection of desire. And in every degree of the act of the will, wherein the soul approves of something present, there is a degree of pleasedness; and that pleasedness, if it be in a considerable degree, is the very same with the affections of joy or delight. And if the will disapproves of what is present, the soul is in some degree displeased, and if that displeasedness be great, it is the very same with the affection of grief or sorrow.
Such seems to be our nature, and such the laws of the union of soul and body, that there never is in any case whatsoever, any lively and vigorous exercise of the will or inclination of the soul, without some effect upon the body, in some alteration of the motion of its fluids, and especially of the animal spirits. And, on the other hand, from the same laws of the union of the soul and body, the constitution of the body, and the motion of its fluids, may promote the exercise of the affections. But yet it is not the body, but the mind only, that is the proper seat of the affections. The body of man is no more capable of being really the subject of love or hatred, joy or sorrow, fear or hope, than the body of a tree, or than the same body of man is capable of thinking and understanding. As it is the soul only that has ideas, so it is the soul only that is pleased or displeased with its ideas. As it is the soul only that thinks, so it is the soul only that loves or hates, rejoices or is grieved at what it thinks of. Nor are these motions of the animal spirits, and fluids of the body, anything properly belonging to the nature of the affections, though they always accompany them, in the present state; but are only effects or concomitants of the affections that are entirely distinct from the affections themselves, and no way essential to them; so that an unbodied spirit may be as capable of love and hatred, joy or sorrow, hope or fear, or other affections, as one that is united to a body.
The affections and passions are frequently spoken of as the same; and yet in the more common use of speech, there is in some respect a difference; and affection is a word that in its ordinary signification, seems to be something more extensive than passion, being used for all vigorous lively actings of the will or inclination; but passion for those that are more sudden, and whose effects on the animal spirits are more violent, and the mind more overpowered, and less in its own command.
As all the exercises of the inclination and will, are either in approving and liking, or disapproving and rejecting; so the affections are of two sorts; they are those by which the soul is carried out to what is in view, cleaving to it, or seeking it; or those by which it is averse from it, and opposes it.
Of the former sort are love, desire, hope, joy, gratitude, complacence. Of the latter kind are hatred, fear, anger, grief, and such like; which it is needless now to stand particularly to define.
And there are some affections wherein there is a composition of each of the aforementioned kinds of actings of the will; as in the affection of pity, there is something of the former kind, towards the person suffering, and something of the latter towards what he suffers. And so in zeal[8], there is in it high approbation of some person or thing, together with vigorous opposition to what is conceived to be contrary to it.
There are other mixed affections that might be also mentioned, but I hasten to,
II. The second thing proposed, which was to observe some things that render it evident, that true religion, in great part consists in the affections. And here,
