Jonathan Edwards

Front matter

^ OF Pfi'*^

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BX 7260 .E3 A6 1889 Allen, Alexander V. G.

Contents

FIRST PERIOD.

THE PARISH ^HNISTER, 1703-1735.

Page I. Childhood. — Eakly Life. — Notes on the ISItnd . 1

II. Resolutions, Diary, Conversion

The call of Edwards was not to metaphysical studies or to natural science, great as was the proficiency he showed in each. It was in the sphere of religion and the inner life of the spirit that his distinctive quality was most clearly revealed. To the life of tlie spirit he was anointed from Ms birth. Born and brought up in a typical Puritan household where religion wa§ the very atmosphere and the church the leading interest in life, he did not react from the severity or narrowness of his training. His conversion may be said to begin with the dawn of consciousness, if it did not begin before his birth. From a very early period he showed susceptibility to religious impressions. He was accustomed as a child to go by himself to secret places in the woods for the purpose of prayer, and was wont to be greatly affected. His father's parish was the scene of occasional " attentions to religion," as they were called ; and of these, while yet a boy, he speaks as if they involved the only realities of life. He was the subject of no sensuous religious influences such as might appeal to a childish imagination, — no dim religious light from windows filled with glorious color, no long-drawn aisles culminating in the mystery of the altar, no rich involutions of musical harmony, no accompaniment of the rolling organ, no inspiration from an imposing architecture. For some reason the plain meetino-house at East Windsor was unfinished in Edwards' boyhood. Not even seats were provided for the worshippers, who were driven to accommodate themselves on sills and sleepers. And yet never was a child imbibing deeper reverence for spiritual things. His soul revelled in the mystery of the Divine existence ; and he grew into the knowledge of the majesty and the glory of God.

SPIRITUAL CONFLICTS. 23

No exact date can be fixed for his conversion ; even tlie time wlien lie " joined the church " is unknown. But we know the years in which he was passing through the spiritual struggles out of which he was to emerge a man of God, recognizing the call of God and answering it with the entire devotion of his will. This period of conflict, of aspiration, of resolution, and of consecration follows upon his graduation from college in 1719 at the age of sixteen. For two years he remained at New Haven, in order, as was then the custom, to carry on his theological studies. He was then called to New York to take charge of a Presbyterian church newly organized, where he remained for eight months, preaching to the acceptance of the congregation and leaving them with reluctance. Returning to his father's house, he was soon after made a tutor in Yale College, an office which he held for two years (1724-1726), helping to overcome the shock to the coUege and the community caused by the secession of its rector Mr. Cutler, Mr. Johnson one of its tutors, and others to the Episcopal Church. He was, says Dr. Stiles, one of the pillar tutors^ and the glory of the college at this critical period. His tutorial renown was great and excellent. He filled and sustained his office with great ability, dignity, and honor. " For the honor of literature these thinos ou^ht not to be forgotten."

From 1720 to 1726, from the age of seventeen to the age of twenty-three, runs the period during which he wrote his Resohitions and the greater j)art of liis religious Diary. These are no ordinary resohitions, and this is no common diary. It is, when we read them, as if we stood behind the veil witnessing the evolution of a great soul. Like Luther, he appears as in search for some high end, of whose nature he is not clearly conscious. But he will be content with nothing but the highest result which it is open to man to achieve, or for God of his^race to imj^art. Referring to this period of his life some twenty years later, he remarks, "I made seeking my salvation the main business of my life." What was it exactly for which he was in search ? In some respects his experience is like that of all spiritual minds. And yet there are fine shades of distinction in these records of religious conflict which are worth discriminating. Luther labored for the assurance of divine forgiveness ; Edwards, for the vision of the divine glory, for the assurance of his oneness in spirit with the ineffable holiness and majesty of God. We may trace in his experience the unmistakable marks of the mystic in every age, — union with God, absorption as it were into the inmost essence of the divine. He •finds expression in the intense language of the Psalmist : " My soul hreaketh for the longing it hath ; my soul waiteth for the Lord^ more than they vaho watch for the morning.''''

The seeking and the waiting were at last rewarded. He was reading one day the wprds of Scripture, " Now unto the King eternal, immortal,

MYSTIC RAPTURES. 25

invisible, the only wise God, be honor and glory forever, Amen," when there came to him for the first time a sort of inward, sweet delight in God and divine things. A sense of the divine glory was, as it were, diffused through him. He thought how happy he should be if he might be rapt up to God in heaven, and be, as it were, swallowed up in him forever. He began to have an inward, sweet sense of Christ and the work of redemption. The Book of Canticles attracted him as a fit expression for his mood. It seemed to him as if he were in a kind of vision, alone in the mountains or some solitary wilderness, conversing sweetly with Christ and wrapt and swallowed up in God. He told liis father the things he was experiencing, and was affected by the discourse they had together. Walking once in at solitary place in his father's pasture, there came to him again a sweet sense of the conjunction of the majesty and the grace of God.

" After this my sense of divine things gradually increased and became more and more lively, and had more of that inward sweetness. The appearance of everything altered : there seemed to be, as it were, a calm, sweet cast or appearance of divine glory in almost everything. God's excellency, his wisdom, his purity and love, seemed to appear in everything, — in the sun, moon, and stars ; in clouds and blue sky ; in the grass, flowers, trees ; in the water and all nature, which used greatly to fix my mind. I often used to sit and view the moon for continuance, and in the day spent much time in^viewing the clouds and sky, to behold the sweet glory of God

A in these things ; in the mean time singing forth, with a low voice, my contemplations of the Creator and Redeemer. . . . Before, I used to be uncommonly terrified with thunder, and to be struck with terror when I saw a thunder-storm arising ; but now, on the contrary, it rejoiced me. I felt God, so to speak, at the first appearance of a thunder-storm ; and used to take the opportunity, at such times, to fix myself in order to view the clouds and see the lightnings play, and hear the majestic and awful voice of God's thunder, which oftentimes was exceedingly entertaining, leading me to sweet contemplations of my great and glorious God. ... I sometimes said to myself I do certainly know that I love holiness ; it appeared to me that there was nothing in it but what was ravishingly lovely, the highest beauty and amiableness, — a divine beauty, far purer than anything upon earth. . . . The soul of a true Christian appeared like a little white flower as we see in the opening of the year ; low and humble on the ground, opening its bosom to receive the pleasant beams of the sun's glory ; rejoicing as it were in a calm rapture, diffusing around a sweet fragrancy ; standing peacefully and lovingly in the midst of other flowers round about, all in like manner opening their bosoms to drink in the light of the sun."

This spiritual and. mystic rapture does not end in words or in emotion. The first thing which he does is to write out Resolutions for the government of his conduct. He proceeds at once to sketch the conception of a perfect character. The moral ideal springs up spontaneously within him. The Resolutions express the essence of a virginal soul, — the desire for the divine image in the soul of man.

THE MORAL IDEAL. 27

The germ of Edwards* theology is also apparent here, which, conceiving the will as predominant in God, conceives man also as an answering will, aiming to renounce itseK in God ; but it is a coming to the knowledge of God which evokes the process, which forces him to ask what are the actions, what the character, which alone correspond with the privilege of one who has been admitted into the inner shrine of the divine glory.

" On January 12, 1723, I made a solemn dedication of myself to God and wrote it down ; giving up myself and all that I had to God, to be for the future in no respect my own ; to act as one that had no right to himself in any respect ; and solemnly vowed to take God for my whole portion and felicity, looking on nothing else as any part oi my happiness, nor acting as if it were ; and his law for the constant rule of my obedience, engaging to fight with all my might against the world, the flesh, and the devU, to the end of my life."

In accordance with this renunciation of self, Edwards resolves, in the first place, always to do whatever he thinks is most for the glory of God and his own good, without consideration of the time, whether now or never so many myriads of ages hence ; no matter how great or how many the difficulties he meets with, to do his duty and what is most for the good of mankind in general. He is never to lose a moment of time, to live while he lives with all liis might. He will do nothing out of revenge, nor suffer anger toward irrational beings, nor speak evil of any one unless to accomplish some real good. He must maintain the strictest temj^erance in eating and drinking, be faithful to every trust, do always what he can toward making or preserving peace, and in narrations never speak anything but pure and simple verity. He is to c^iltivate also a temper which is

^ good and sweet and benevolent to all, quiet and peccable, contented and easy, compassionate and

. generous, humble and meek, submissive and obliging, charitable and even, patient, moderate, forgiving, and sincere. In order to a completer victory over all evil in himself, he will take it for granted that no one is so evil as himself ; he will identify himself with all other men, and act as if their evil was his own, as if he had committed the same sins and had the same infirmities, so that the knowledge of their failings will promote in him nothing but a sense of shame. It shall be a rule with him never to do anything which he should condemn as wrong in others. Whenever he does any conspicuously evil action, he determines to trace it back to its source, in order to more successfully overcoming it. Mingled with these res()lutions are others of a more specific and local to^e. He resolves never to utter anything that is sportive or a matter of laughter on the Lord's day : when he thinks of any theorem in divinity to be solved, immediately to do what he can toward solving it ; to study the Scriptures constantly and frequently ; not to allow the least sign of fretting or uneasiness at his father or mother, or to any one of the family.

RESOLUTIONS. 29

He is constantly to examine himself as to his behavior at the end of every day, every week, every month, every year. All such things as weaken his sense of assurance of the divine favor he casts away. Moments when his sense of assurance is at its best, he will s^e as opportunities for fresh consecration of himself.

As we linger over these Resolutions, which portray the ideal of hupaan character and excelleifce as Edwards conceived it in his youth, we find him still influenced by the commoner notions of personal advantage and safety to be achieved hereafter. The sanctions of his deeds he looks for in another world ; the test to which he subjects them is the hour and moment of death, when things are most clearly seen - in their true relations. He will act in this world as he thinks he shall judge would have been best and most prudent when he comes into the future world ; he will act in every respect as he thinks he should wish he had done if he should at last be damned. There is, too, the daring ambition of a youth conscious of great capacity, and thinking it not unfit that his ambition should spur him on in the race for spiritual excellence and reward. He has frequently heard persons in old age say how they would live if they were to live their lives over again. He resolves that he will live just as he can think he would wish he had done, supposing he were to live to old age. Nay, even " on the sup2:)osition that there never was to he hut one individual in the worlds at any one time.

in all resjoects of a right stamjj^ having Chris^ tianity always shining in its true lustre., a?id aj)- pearing excellent and lovely from whatever i^art and under whatever character viewed ; resolved to act just as I would do if I strove with all my might to he that one who should live in my time^ The Diary of Edwards, which covers the years when he was forming his resolutions, serves as a commentary on the difficulties he encountered in keeping his will true to the highest standard. There is the usual record of alternations between failures and successes, seasons of depression and of exaltation. The depressions and the failures are attributed to the withdrawal of the Sj)irit of God, as if liis relation to the soul were not an organic one, but fitful and capricious. The Diary has certain personal touches, apart from their religious interest, which throw light on his character. His subtlety in making distinctions is apparent in what he says about revenge. On one occasion he accused himself of having felt a certain satisfaction in what he had done, because it might lead some persons to repent of their conduct. If he were satisfied with their repentance because they had a seft^e of their error, it would be right. But to have a satisfaction in their repentance because of the evil that is brought upon them would be revenge. He observes that "old men seldom have any advantage of new discoveries, because they are beside the way of thinking to which they have been so long used." Hence he resolves that he will not

DEFERENCE TO TRADITION. 31

be affected by limitations of the lower nature, but " if ever lie lives to years he will be impartial to hear the reasons of all pretended discoveries and receive them if rational, how long soever he may have been used to another way of thinking." None the less, in an entry for February 21, 1725, he seems to reflect upon the course of the clergy in C«^necticut, whose secession to Episcopacy had made such a stir in the colony, as if their action had not been well considered, or as if it showed a lack of deference for authority and tradition. " If ever I am inclined to turn to the opinion of any other sect, resolved, beside the most deliberate consideration, earnest prayer, etc., privately to desire all the help that can be afforded me from some of the most judicious men in the country, together with the prayers of wise and holy men, however strongly persuaded I may seem to be that I am in the right."

The ascetic tendency which entered so largely into the composition of the New England character finds full expression in the early experience of Edwards,. He esteems it as " an advantage that the duties of rehgion are difficult, and that many difficulties are sometimes to be gone through in the way of duty.*" At the age of twenty, he records his intention to live in continual mortification without ceasing, and even to weary himself thereby, and never to expect or desire any worldly ease or pleasure. He charges himself not to be uneasy about his state or condition, not to be envious or jealous when he sees that others are prosperous and honored and the world is smooth to them ; rather to rejoice in all such things for others ; while for himseK, he is not to expect or desire these things, but to depend on affliction, and betake himself entirely to another sort of happiness. In his stoical desire for spiritual independence and completeness, he would strip himself of those things whose tenure is uncertain, so as not to be afflicted with fear of losing them, nor pleased and excited with the expectation of gaining them. The question arises, whether any delight or satisfaction should be allowed which ministers to any other than a religious end. At first he gives a tentative answer in the affirmative, for the reason that otherwise we should never rejoice at the sight of friends, or have any pleasure in our food, — a pleasure which contributes to the animal spirits and a good digestion. But the final answer is, never to allow any joy or sorrow but what helps religion. He complains of himself that he has become accustomed after working a great while to look forward to rest as if it were his due, and to expect to be released from labor after a certain time even if not really tired or weary. But if he did not expect ease, he should go on with the same vigor at his business without vacation times to rest. ^ The suggestion comes to him that too vigorous application to religion may be prejudicial to health ; but he will know this by his own experience before he abandons his aim. He believes that great mortifications and acts of

ASCETIC TENDENCY. 33

self-denial bring him the greatest comfort. He applies his principle rigidly to his habits of eating. By sparingness of diet he shall gain time, and be able to think more clearly. These hints from his Diary point to the untiring worker of later years who did not know how to take rest, finding relief only in continuous labor.

Edwards did not suffer at this time from any disquieting seK-consciousness as to the power of the human will to accomplish its highest resolves. There are allusions to the divine grace through which all human excellence is achieved, but these allusions have a commonplace reminder, as if they were said because they ought to be said. There is the recognition of a need of absolute dependence upon divine power, but he complains that he does not yet realize its need as he ought. " I find a want of dependence on God, to look to Him for success, and to have my eyes unto Him for His gracious disposal of the matter ; for want of a sense of God's particular influence in ordering and directing all affairs, of whatever nature, however naturally or fortuitously they may seem to succeed." He had at one time felt repugnance to the princi^ile of man's inability to accomplish any good work, for he records in his journal, under the date of March 6, 1722, that he has been regarding " the doctrines of election, free grace, our inability to do anything without the grace of God, and that holiness is entirely throughout the work of the Spirit of God, with greater pleasure than ever before."

Neither in the Resohitions nor in the Journal do we meet the deep, all-pervading sense of sin which we should naturally expect from one who afterwards made it so prominent in his theology. There are traces of the sense of sin and guilt in these records of early experience, but it is not the l^rominent feature : it is subordinate to the aspiration after an ideal, or to the methods by which the aspiration maybe achieved. Forgiveness is not the word which becomes a key to unlock the secret of

/ his spiritual history. There are some, like Luther, who begin their religious experience with the burden of a sinfid conscience, — a burden which when it has disapj^eared, as at the foot of the cross, is gone never to return. And there are others, worshippers of an ideal, who attach themselves without reserve to God, thirsting for the righteous-

\ ness which union with the divine demands. With these, the sense of sin may come later, growing out of a deeper love, out of the consciousness of failure to fulfil the standard of a perfect law. That such was Edwards' experience is intimated in a beautiful passage from his Treatise on the Religious Affections : —

" A true saint is Hke a little child in this respect : he never had any godly sorrow before he was born again, but since has it often in exercise ; as a little child before it is born, and while it remains in darkness, never cries ; but as soon as it sees the light of day it begins to cry, and thenceforward is often crying. Although Christ hath borne our griefs and carried our sorrows so that

THE SENSE OF SIN. 35

we are freed from the sorrow of punishment, and may now sweetly feed ujDon the comforts Christ hath purchased for us, yet that hinders not but that our feeding on these comforts should be attended with the sorrow of repentance, as of old the children of Israel were commanded evermore to feed upon the paschal lamb Avith bitter herbs. True saints are spoken of in Scripture, not only as those who have mourned for sin, but as those who do mourn, whose manner it is still to mourn : ' Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted.' "

There is another point in which the Diary is prophetic of work to be accomplished in the future. Several of the entries relate to the process which is called conversion. At this time neither the name, nor the process for which it stood, were as familiar as they have since become. In these allusions Edwards appears uncertain about his spiritual condition, because he is not clear as to what conversion requires. He determines that he will be constantly looking within, to the end that he may not be deceived as to whether he has a genuine interest in Christ. He makes it a point for future investigation to look most nicely and diligently into the opinions of our old divines concerning co7iversion. " The chief thing that now makes me in any measure question my good estate is my not having experienced conversion in those particular steps wherein the people of New England, and anciently the dissenters of old England, used to experience it. Wherefore have resolved never to leave off searcliing till I have satisfyingly found out the very bottom and foundation, the real reason why they used to be converted in those steps." All this is interesting in view of the fact that Edwards did more than any writer who preceded or followed him in determining the nature and the mode of conversion.

After years of concern about his inward state, yet so late as 1725 Edwards was still uncertain as to whether he had been converted. Nor in later life, as he reviewed these years of struggle and anxiety, was he able to describe with clearness the process through which he had passed. His conversion must be left, where he has left it, in mystery and obscurity. No mind, however subtle or introvertive, can trace the genesis of spiritual life, or analyze the steps by which the soul enters into union with God. But in Edwards' case, as in that of so many others, the process is confused and complicated by extraneous elements. An intellectual transition waited upon the sj^iritual process of which he gives no hint in his journal. He was tending away from the dreams of his youth, which reveal such extraordinary affiliations with Plato, with the Platonist fathers of the early church, or even with Spinoza, toward the Augustinian conception of God as unconditioned and arbitrary will. The change resulted in putting him in sjanpathy with the tenets of Calvinistic theology. He shows no appreciation of the significance of the transition, but he records the fact and its momen-

CONVERSION. 37

tons consequences. " From my cliildlioocl up, my mind had been full of objections against the doctrine of God's sovereignty, in choosing whom He would to eternal life, and rejecting whom He pleased, leaving them eternally to perish and be everlastingly tormented in hell. It used to appear like a horrible doctrine to me." But the moment came to him when he rejected the natural, instinctive working of the conscience as carrying no sacred force. This inward repulsion might be only the carnal mood of the natural unconverted man ; nay, even it might be a presumption in favor of the obnoxious tenet. Edwards no longer questioned the truth of the doctrine because it was repellent. What he aspired after was its reception with a willing and rejoicing mind. And somehow, he cannot tell exactly how, he finally attained this result. \

'* I remember the time very weU when I seemed to be convinced and fully satisfied as to this sovereignty of God, and his justice in thus eternally disposing of men according to his sovereign pleasure ; but never could give an account how or by what means I was thus convinced, not in the least imagining at the time, nor a long time after, that there was any extraordinary influence of God's spirit in it, but only that now I saw further, and my mind apprehended the justice and reasonableness of it. However, my mind rested in it, and it put an end to all these cavils and questionings. . . . God's absolute sovereignty and justice with respect to salvation is what my mind seems to rest assured of, as much as of anything that I see with my eyes ; at least it is so at times. But I have often, since that first conviction, had quite another kind of sense of God's sovereignty than I had then. I have often had not only a conviction, but a delightful conviction. The doctrine has very often appeared exceedingly pleasant, bright, and sweet. But my first conviction was not so."

So Edwards entered into the heritage of his fathers and made the Puritan consciousness his own. There are traces of an inward rebellion which was suppressed. There is reason to believe that his success was not so complete as he fancied in eradicating his earlier thought. But the critical point of the transition is not explained. It is buried out of sight in silence and darkness.

III. Settlement At Northampton. — Marriage. — Domestic Life

On the 15th of February, 1727, Edwards was ordained at Northampton as the colleague of his grandfather, the Rev. Solomon Stoddard, then in his eighty-fourth year. The town of NorthamjDton, a beautiful sj^ot on the banks of the Connecticut, had been founded in 1654. The first minister was Mr. Eleazar Mather, a brother of the celebrated Increase Mather. After his early death came Mr. Stoddard, who held the pastorate from 1672 to 1729. He was one of the great men of

CALL TO NORTUAMPTON. 89

early New England history. Edwards speaks of him as " a very great man, of strong powers of mind, of great grace, and a great authority, of a masterly countenance, speech, and behavior." Mr. Stoddard lived in the days when, as Hutchinson remarks, " the elders continued to be consulted in every affair of importance. The share they held in temporal affairs added to the weight they had acquired from their spiritual employments, and they were in high esteem." But for Mr. Stoddard there was felt somethins: more than the usual respect and veneration. " The officers and leaders of Northampton," says Edwards, "imitated his manners, which were dogmatic, and thought it an excellency to be like him." Many of the people, he adds, esteemed all his sayings as oracles, and looked upon him " almost as a sort of deity." The Indians of the neighborhood, interpreting this admiration in their own way, spoke of Mr. Stoddard as " the Englishman's God."

It was not an easy task even for Edwards to follow such a pastor. Other circumstances increased the difficulty of the situation. The village of Northampton had grown rapidly in wealth and importance. Many of its inhabitants were marked by cultivation of mind, and refinement of manner. They were also characterized by a certain high-spiritedness which made them a turbulent people, not easy to control. They rejoiced in their reputation as a kno\ving people, and many of them having been promoted to places of public trust there had been much to feed their pride. There was also an unfortunate division among them: the court party, as it might be called, had wealth, land, and authority ; while the country party, not so well endowed, was jealous of them, afraid of their having too much power in town and church. All this was not auspicious for the harmony of Edwards' pastorate. But we do not hear of these sinister aspects of the situation in the early years of his ministry. They were the dark possibilities of the future. On the other hand, from every point of view the settlement at Northampton seemed most fitting and desirable. The father and mother of the young minister had many friends in the parish, for whose sake he was welcomed. Mr. Stoddard must have felt a peculiar satisfaction in the new relationship, as if his own mantle would descend to his successor after his departure. The church at Northampton, although on the distant borders of the rising civilization, was a large and important one, being estimated as the strongest church in wealth and numbers outside of Boston. It was a suitable sphere for one who had already achieved some reputation as a scholar and preacher. Edwards contributed to the lustre of the town, while the congregation felt a justifiable pride in his powers.