My friend Andrew Starkey and I have decided to read through Jonathan Edwards’ A Treatise Concerning Religious Affections. This post contains my reflections on Part I.

The questions that are being used as a framework for discussion (and are the headings in this post) are taken from Mortimer Jerome Adler and Charles Lincoln Van Doren, How to Read a Book, Rev. and updated ed. (New York,: Simon and Schuster, 1972), 46.

Numbers in parentheses are location numbers in the Kindle text referenced above.

Q: What is the section about?

The problem facing Edwards is clear, and he outlines it in his introduction: In the midst of the Great Awakening, he recognises that there is a great ‘mixture of counterfeit religion with true, not discerned and distinguished’ (48). In Part I, therefore, he argues that true religion is characterised by the presence of ‘holy affections’ (144). He mounts his argument from the imperatives of Scripture, the nature of the world, the history of the church and particularly the example of Christ. He then draws a number of inferences from this proposition, namely that (1) those without religious affections are spiritually dead; (2) we ought properly to desire those things that move the affections; and (3) we ought to be ashamed that ‘we are no more affected with the great things of religion’ (606).

Q: What is being said in detail, and how?

Edwards starts by considering 1 Pet 1:8: ‘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.’ He argues that persecutions and trials (referred to in the previous verses) ‘above all other things, have a tendency to distinguish between true religion and false’.

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.” (111)

In particular, true religion will result in love to Christ and joy in Christ. From this, Edwards states the main premise which he will spend the rest of the section (perhaps the rest of the book) developing and defending: ‘True religion, in great part, consists in holy affections.’

Strictly speaking, this does not seem to be a logical deduction from his evidence up to this point. It would, perhaps, be more accurate to say that ‘true religion responds to persecution with holy affections’. After all, maybe affections are not required when not under persecution, or perhaps affections are just one among many symptoms of ‘true religion’. But the rest of section goes on to develop this fuller premise.

Edwards’ working definition of ‘affections’ is as follows:

The affections are no other than the more vigorous and sensible exercises of the inclination and will of the soul. (152)

He is careful to join affections to the will. This seems somewhat strange to the modern reader who would naturally associate ‘affections’ with ‘emotions’, which are considered beyond our (conscious) control. I believe this fact will be important to bear in mind as we continue through the book, and I am sure I will regularly need to remind myself of it.

Having defined ‘affections’, Edwards proceeds to draw the link between ‘affections’ and ‘true religion’. As the first step towards this goal, he marshals a number of Scriptures that command particular affections: fervour (Rom 12:11), love and fear (Deut 6:4, 6; 10:12) etc. His emphasis here is not so much on the affections themselves, but on their magnitude. His conclusion is that,

everyone that has the power of godliness in his heart, has his inclinations and heart exercised towards God and divine things, with such strength and vigor that these holy exercises do prevail in him above all carnal or natural affections, and are effectual to overcome them. (229)

Edwards also notes the central role that affections have in prompting actions; in other words, he argues that ‘the affections of men are the springs of… motion’ (241). The logic here is an enthymeme, with the unstated minor premise that true religion consists of actions, which may be readily granted. Thus the argument is that:

Affections are necessary for actions.
[Actions are necessary for true religion.]
Therefore affections are necessary for true religion.

The third argument Edwards offers in favour of linking affections and true religion is that ‘the things of religion take hold of men’s souls, no further than they affect them’ (250). This is an inductive argument, based on Edwards’ observations of human behaviour. As such, it is not as strong as some of the other arguments put forward, but in conjunction with the others it has a cumulative force.

Argument 4 is, in some ways, similar to the first argument but in greater depth. Edwards here traces such specific affections as hope, hatred for sin, holy desires and longings, joy, sorrow, mercy and zeal. He then builds on this argument by noting the central place given in the Scriptures to love as the ‘fountain of all other affections’ (335).

Having considered the indicatives of Scripture pertaining to affections, Edwards turns in argument 6 to the example of specific biblical characters: David, Paul and John. From there, it is only natural to consider the example of the Lord Jesus, who ‘was a person who was remarkably of a tender and affectionate heart; and [whose] virtue was expressed very much in the exercise of holy affections’ (422).

Argument 8 rests on Edwards’ interpretation of the ‘heavenly state’, and owing to its speculative nature this is the weakest of the arguments he advances. Certainly, the intent is admirable: ‘The way to learn the true nature of anything, is to go where that thing is to be found in its purity and perfection’ (471); it is just that the available evidence doesn’t allow confidence in the sweeping generalisations that Edwards makes.

Edwards then notes the affective nature of the ‘ordinances and duties, which God hath appointed, as means and expressions of true religion’ (477). In particular, he considers prayer, singing praises to God, the sacraments and preaching. Each of these, according to Edwards, is designed with a view to raising the affections.

Finally, Edwards points out the frequent correlation in Scripture of sin and ‘hardness of heart’. The reasoning is that if sin is to be equated with hardness of heart, then the negation of sin (true religion) is to be equated with the negation of hardness of heart (affections).

With these arguments expounded, Edwards concludes: ‘Upon the whole, I think it clearly and abundantly evident, that true religion lies very much in the affections’ (541).

From this conclusion, Edwards draws three specific inferences. Firstly, those who devalue religious affections as insubstantial are wrong; indeed, affections are (at least) as essential as doctrine. There is a balance to be maintained, and falling into either extreme is equivalent to death: ‘As there is no true religion where there is nothing else but affection, so there is no true religion where there is no religious affection’ (575). The second inference is that we should desire means of moving the affections. Such means might include ‘books… preaching the word… administration of ordinances… worshipping God in prayer, singing praises’ (595) etc. Edwards’ third and final inference from his conclusion that true religion and religious affections are essential to one another is that we ought to be ashamed for our general lack of affections.

Q: Is the section true, in whole or part?

Edwards offers a strong argument. Once we accept his definition of ‘affections’ (over against more modern interpretations) his examples from Scripture are compelling. As noted previously, some of his arguments from his speculative construction of the ‘heavenly state’ are misguided, but these form only a minor plank in an otherwise very sturdy bridge.

Q: What of it?

As mentioned earlier, the topic of this section seems of immediate importance to the author, placed as he was in the midst of the Great Awakening. It was very important to him to be able to distinguish between religious affection and psychological hype. No doubt he was forced to defend against the naysayers who declared the movement he was a part of to be the latter rather than the former.

For us, too, there is a tendency to reject the emotions in favour of the mind. I can trace this tendency in myself all the way back to my conversion. I became a Christian at a holiday camp run at Stanwell Tops. Picture, if you will, a 6 foot tall 10 year old at a camp called… ‘Mini Midgets’! This was my first real exposure to Christian camping, or ‘contemporary’ Christian music. I didn’t know you could have church music played on electric guitars and drums! One night during the week, we were singing a praising God, and I felt the immediate presence of God in a way I never had before. Yet I refused to say anything or do anything about it until I’d had a chance to think it over. Even at that age, I had a suspicion of anything that was driven in the first instance by emotion; I needed to make sure that it made sense. That’s the way I’m wired.

To this day, I am suspicious of a certain kind of music, a certain kind of prayer, a certain kind of preaching etc. But I am also learning, slowly, that it is OK – no, as Edwards points out, it is right! – to be affected by things. We had a men’s weekend away just recently, and a number of people shared from their life stories. In a couple of cases the stories were tragic indeed, and once I found tears pouring down my cheeks as a man described sitting on the floor after school explaining to his kids (aged 11 – 4) that their mum had passed away from cancer while they were at school. There was a time when I would have been ashamed of that response, but I am learning that it is both the privilege and the responsibility of Christians to ‘Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn’ (Rom 12:15).

What Edwards teaches me in this section is that this is to be more than just a passive response; the affections are to be active. They are ‘vigorous and sensible exercises of the inclination and will of the soul’ (152). We are to incline ourselves towards being ‘affected’ by the things of God, and the things which ‘affect’ God (or, more precisely, which God allows to affect him). Paul offers an imperative – rejoice! mourn! – not just an invitation.

Further, I find that I am ashamed (as Edwards says I ought to be) that I am too little affected by the things I ought to be, and too much affected by other things. One is reminded of C. S. Lewis’ observation in Weight of Glory:

It would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.

Even today, I have worked extra hours to derive satisfaction from having done my job well… but at what expense? I got to see my kids for all of 10 mins at either end of the day. I admire my friends’ passion for social justice, but find it difficult to be similarly affected. I read my Bible and am often left unchanged because I do it as an exercise in discipline or academics instead of a meeting with the Creator and Saviour of the world.

I look forward to reading what solutions Edwards has to offer, but I know – I know! – that the starting place is prayer. Please God, give me first the desire coupled with the will to pray, so that as I peer into your heart mine will be drawn along to the same place!