FAITHS NATURE-ITS MAKE-UP

THE NATURE OF FAITH

2 Kings 6:13-17

"Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the proving of things not seen."—HEBREWS 11:1

            These words constitute a declaration of the nature of faith. Faith is really the subject of the whole letter; for its purpose unquestionably was to establish and strengthen the early Hebrew Christians, who felt that they had lost so much as they had turned from the splendid ritual and ceremony of the Hebrew faith to the simpler things that are in Christ Jesus. This letter was written to save them from that form of lack of faith which becomes apostasy.

            The history of this world's progress is that of the triumph of faith. Faith is a paradox, something con­trary to reason, and yet true. In my boyhood I loved horses. I still love them. The law of the road is a paradox, and I was taught in rhyme:

"The law of the road is a paradox quite,

And that you may tell by my song,

If you go to the left, you are sure to go right;

And if you go right, you go wrong!"

            That is a perfect paradox; apparently wrong, contrary to reason, and yet true. So faith is always a paradox.

            Faith sings in prison, and not when it gets out of prison. Oh, it may sing when it gets out, but it antedates its escape by singing in prison, as witness Paul and Silas. Faith fights in chains. Paul said, "Remember my bonds." (Col. 4:18) Faith works and accomplishes things without any of the tools upon which men seem so largely to depend.

            It might be good to make a list of the literature of the prison, that which reveals faith triumphant. Jere­miah, Ezekiel, or Paul, and John. All in prison. Or down the centuries, 200 years ago, John Bunyan, whose great drama was composed in prison. The prophecies of Jeremiah and Ezekiel, the writings of Paul and John, the matchless beauty of Bunyan, were all created by faith. If the test of a word is a work, if the test of a creed is a creation, if the test of a root is a fruit, faith is abundantly vindicated through all the running cen­turies.

            We ask this question then: Why is it that faith thus triumphs? This wonderful section of the letter, as we have seen, really commences in the previous chapter (10). There the writer quotes from Habakkuk when he declares the great principles of the victorious life, "The just shall live by faith." We ask then: What is this faith? In this study we commence to answer that question. In the said words we have a clear-cut crystal­lized definition of faith. The first word of the text is "Now," the little word that links the argument of the letter directly with what the writer said previously, "My righteous one shall live by faith." Missing out the intervening words for the moment, he said, "Now."

            Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the proving of things not seen.

            Before going any farther, I want to say two things of a gen­eral nature. This is the only definition of faith to be found in the Bible. There are explanations and appli­cations, but here is a clear-cut definition, and the only one. Again, the definition is not complete. This is a definition of faith in the abstract. There is a concrete fact, consideration of which we do not reach here, but to which we come in our subsequent articles.

            There are in these words two very simple and self-evident things. This definition first of all reveals the spheres in which faith operates; and within the defini­tion, that which so operates in those spheres.

            First then, the sphere of operation. "Faith is the as­surance of things hoped for, the proving of things not seen." The two spheres, nevertheless one in the last analysis, "things hoped for, things not seen." Those are the two realms in which faith becomes operative. There is no need to illustrate that, apart from the Biblical literature, although it could be done. It is true in every realm of life.

            "Things hoped for." What are they? Things not yet attained, things not in our possession. "Who hopes for that which he sees?" We enter the realm of the future when we speak of things hoped for. Let us ask ourselves: For what are we hoping? I am not thinking on the level of the dust now, where

"The earth of a dusty today

Is the dust of an earthy tomorrow."

            I am thinking on high levels now. What are we hoping for? The realization of our ideals, the ultimate victory of good, compensation for all the things which have to be endured, and the enduring of which is contributing toward that ultimate compensation. We hope for a time when in human life and affairs an even balance shall be struck. Take any position you will. Call it what our thinkers call it sometimes, "the golden age," or think of it in terms of the poet, who sang of

"The far-off Divine event,

To which the whole creation moves."

            "Things hoped for." There may be times when hope seems to flicker to the lowest, and hardly gives any light. We have all known such times; but the things hoped for, the aspirations of the soul, that is the sphere in which faith operates.

            The second phrase, "things not seen." That is diffi­cult. At least it seems to be so. It does seem easy, naturally, to believe in things we can see. Faith does not operate there at all. We do not need any faith to believe in things seen. We have all heard the old say­ing, "Seeing is believing." Is that true? No! Be­lieving is being sure without seeing. Faith operates there in the presence of things that eye has not seen, things that have not entered into the understanding of the mind. That is the realm of faith.

            Are there any such things? There is only one an­swer to that. As we read the wonderful illustrations of faith given us by this writer, he says of one man, that "he endured, as seeing him who is invisible." A great and glorious statement! Such an absurd thing, is it not, you worldly-wise man? Seeing the invisible! That is faith. That is the sphere in which faith operates in the spiritual world in the midst of which we are always living, even in the dust of the city. The unseen things, the hidden forces that are everywhere, if we could see them. We cry out, "Master, what shall we do?" (Luke 3:12) But the man who can see, says, "Lord, open his eyes," (2 Kings 6:17) and the Lord in the ancient story opened his eyes, those eyes that are more than human sight, and "Behold, the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire round about." The young man had not seen them, but they were there, unseen things. What a wonderful story that is, and how perfectly it illustrates this: the faith of Elisha, and the sight that came to his servants. Some of us may be thinking of those lines of Wesley, in his great hymn:

"Lo, to faith's enlightened sight,

All the mountain flamed with light.

Hell is nigh, but God is nigher,

Circling us with hosts of fire."

            We cannot see these things, but they are there, and faith enters into that realm.

            With great reverence, Jesus had this vision when His hour of travail came. "Thinkest thou that I cannot beseech my Father, and he shall even now send me more than twelve legions of angels?" (Matt. 26:53) He did not ask for them, but He saw them, and saw the possibility. Faith entered into the realm of the unseen. When we cease to believe in unseen things, hope dies, and the song is silent, and fighting ends, and the work is aban­doned. To quote again words concerning Moses, he "endured as seeing him who is invisible." (Heb. 11:27)

            The "things hoped for" is the sphere in which faith operates; the realm into which we climb when thought becomes longing, aspiration, and strong desire. Faith enters into that realm.

            Second, "the things unseen," the things that can­not be proven mathematically. There are so many things we cannot prove mathematically that we know are so. No one can prove that the woman he or she called mother was their mother. Produce the birth certificate. That is worthless. But we know; faith has entered into the realm of mystery, and we are sure. That is the sphere of operations.

            Let us turn now to the definition, which is abstract, and not final. What is faith? It is "assurance, prov­ing." Those are the two words of the Revised Version. The Authorized Version reads: "Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." The Revisers have substituted "assurance" for "sub­stance," and "proving" instead of "evidence."

            But the Revised Version still lacks something meant by the writer. A far better rendering of that word, hupostasis, is the simple word confidence; "faith is the confidence of things hoped for." Confidence! Cer­tainty which produces action. It is not merely confi­dence in the sense of being sure that it is so; but a confidence that becomes conviction. That is faith ex­actly, confidence, certainty of things hoped for; cer­tainty of the ultimate realization of our ideals, the ultimate victory of good, and the striking at the moment of an even balance everywhere, with a great sense of com­pensation and realization. Faith is sure about things hoped for.

            What is "proving"? What is "evidence"? Evi­dence is proving offered. We give evidence, which means we are offering proof. The Revisers have im­proved the old rendering, by translating "proving." There is an added shade of meaning here. If evidence is proof offered, proving is proof offered and accepted. It is not merely that evidence is given, but it is so given that it produces actual conviction. "Faith is the con­fidence of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen." The writer here is proceeding from effect to cause. What is the effect?             Confidence of things hoped for. What is the cause? Conviction of things not seen.

            Here is the mental process. Faith, first, is a convic­tion of the reality of the unseen. Second, confidence that all the terms will be fulfilled, that the vision will be translated into victory. Faith enters that realm. Con­viction of things not seen is the confidence in things hoped for. The conviction of the builder is the confi­dence that the city will be built. The conviction con­cerning the unseen realities is the confidence of the realization of ideals. It is an abstract definition, but what a definition! How it gives us pause for thought!

            Can we apply it individually, and to the Christian Church, and to the world at large? Unless faith enters that realm of unseen things, and becomes conviction, there is no certainty about faith at all, there is no guar­antee. It is faith that grasps the reality, reaches out to the unseen, and then focuses upon it, acts upon it; and that hope is no longer mere hope, in a speculative sense, but becomes a great certainty.

            These are the things that have created all the great victories and triumphs of our human progress, so far as there has been progress. Men first become sure of the unseen, and when sure of the unseen they become sure of the ultimate victory of the ideal. If we are not sure of the unseen, we are without hope, because without God in the world. In the presence of such a definition I take the language of the man who came once to Jesus and said, "Lord, I believe, help thou mine unbelief." (Mark 9:24)