THE idea of the imputation of sin and of righteousness enters largely into what the old systems of theology call the "Scheme of Redemption." First, the sin of Adam is said to have been imputed to his posterity; then the sin of the whole human race is said to have been imputed to Christ, and to have been expiated by his sacrifice; and then the perfect righteousness of Christ is said to be imputed to every one who is vitally connected with him by faith. It may, perhaps, be thought hardly worth while to meddle with this dry old doctrine which nobody thinks much about now, not even those in whose professed creed it still lingers. But it was alive once. Like all doctrines that have ever made a part of the creed of sincere and earnest Christians, it was once a feeling. Feeling can never be adequately expressed in precise logical forms. The truth involved in it always gets injured, and more or less falsified, by such an attempt, and especially by trying to fit it into a place in an artificial system. But the germinal truth is ever true. The sentiment it produces ever makes a part of a genuine religious experience. It is, therefore, always well to examine an old doctrine candidly and respectfully. It leads to a consideration of the truth that lies at its centre, and of which it is a perversion, and helps us to restate it in a way that shall make it vital to ourselves. The imputation of Christ's righteousness to believers in him is thus expressed, in a famous confession which is to-day the professed belief of a numerous and influential body of Christians: "Justification is an act of God's free grace unto sinners, in which he pardoneth all their sins, accepteth and accounteth their persons righteous in his sight; not for anything wrought in them, or done by them, but only for the perfect obedience and full satisfaction of Christ by God imputed to them, and received by faith alone." The objections to this doctrine thus stated are obvious. It directly contradicts the plainest and most universal of our moral intuitions, and confounds all our ideas of right and wrong. We can have no conception of sin and righteousness but as strictly personal qualities. They are so by their very nature. They can be acquired for one's self only by one's self. They are inalienable and untransferable. To say that my sin may become your sin, or your righteousness my righteousness, will be seen, when we attend to the reality of things, to involve an absurdity. One may indeed experience the effects of another's sin or righteousness. So intimately are we bound together by various relations, that this is frequently the case. Few are so isolated that they can sin without in some degree impairing the happiness of others; or be good, without becoming a blessing to all within their influence; but it is the outward consequences, and not the personal quality of sin and righteousness, which thus pass beyond the original agent. Sin and righteousness are also, in a sense, communicated by instruction, example, influence. An eminently good man is the cause of goodness in others, by making goodness beautiful, desirable, and attractive. And sin is propagated in a similar manner. But this case is manifestly different from the transfer of qualities supposed by the doctrine. Moral qualities are not thus imputed to a man irrespective of anything wrought in him or done by him, but only such as he has made his own by his own voluntary act. Again, this doctrine, though certainly not so meant by those who profess it, does, in fact, involve irreverence to God. ascribes to him some of the poorest and shallowest of the devices of man. As if, in the dealings of a God of perfect justice and truth, there could be anything like legal fictions! As if he could be imagined to treat men as constructively guilty or meritorious! Surely, nothing but truth and reality can stand before him. How can he regard a man as having rendered a perfect obedience, unless he has rendered a perfect obedience? And if, notwithstanding the imperfection which confessedly cleaves to every man, it is still possible to enjoy his favor, it must be because there is a reason in justice rightly understood,—justice tempered by that mercy that makes it justice, and distinguishes it from cruelty, why such a being as man should be accepted by him on other grounds than that of an absolutely perfect obedience. --- This doctrine is without foundation in Scripture. Not a passage can be found that asserts it. There are passages which, the doctrine being assumed, might seem to refer to it, — to be capable of interpretation consistently with it, — but not one that would serve as a foundation for it, or would suggest it to a reader who did not carry it with him to the reading of the Word, and was so prepared to find it there. Paul expresses the wish that he might be found in Christ, not having his own righteousness, which is of the law, but that which is through the faith of Christ; the meaning of which is obvious. His own righteousness was that to which he had been brought up under the law; the righteousness which is through the faith of Christ is the higher and deeper righteousness that may be attained by the voluntary use of all the aids and influences offered in the word and life of Christ. The expression, " clothed with the righteousness of Christ," is sometimes used in religious discourse and conversation, and, though not scriptural, it is a very good expression, and ought to mean, clothed with such righteousness as Christ taught and exemplified and helps men to acquire. How came a doctrine for which so little can be said, and which is open to such grave objections, to obtain a place in the Christian heart? It was a device for answering an anxious question that arises in every humble heart, seeking ac ceptance with God, contemplating the length and breadth and depth of his law, and conscious of its own weakness and sins. What are the terms of acceptance with God, the conditions of eternal life? These questions are thus answered by Christ: "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind, and thy neighbor as thyself. This do, and thou shalt live." But no one does this. No one expects to do it. Who, then, shall live? The law everywhere describes perfection and requires it, and no one renders it a perfect obedience. If a man could begin to-day, and thenceforth obey the law perfectly, as long as he lived, still, in a legal point of view, the delinquencies of his previous life would stand against him. The most perfect obedience is no more than his duty, and cannot make up for past imperfections. But his future obedience will not be thus perfect. It will have imperfections of its own to be answered for. What, then, is any man's ground of acceptance with God? To this question, a careless and superficial answer is sometimes given. Men say, God is merciful and gracious. He knoweth our frame, and remembereth we are dust. He does not expect of us perfect obedience. He will not be strict to mark iniquity. If we mean to do right, and do as well as we can, he will overlook our delinquencies and occasional transgressions, and graciously accept us. Now, this may be very true, and yet the application of it by an individual to his own case may be very false. A certain state of heart is necessary in order to make that truth applicable and a source of genuine peace and hope, and unless that state of heart exists, the thought of God's grace will only encourage a man to go on in sin, or to entertain low views, and satisfy himself with a careless performance of duty. Indeed, this ground of confidence may be shaken by simply repeating, to one who assumes it carelessly, his own words, "We have only to do as well as we Who is fulfilling that condition? Who is engaged with all his present power in the service of God? can." This is a way of talking into which a man will be likely to fall who looks upon this question from without, as a matter |