These theologians clearly perceived, that if volition is necessarily determined by motive, and if motive lies in the correlation of desire and object, then, in a being totally depraved, or a being of radically corrupt desires, there can be no ability to good deeds: the deed is as the volition, and the volition is as the strongest desire or the sense of the most agreeable.
Hence these theologians refer the conversion of man exclusively to divine influence. The man cannot change his own heart, nor employ any means to that end; for this would imply a volition for which, according to the supposition, he has no ability.
Now, at the same time, that this class represent men as unable to love and obey the truths of religion, they engage with great zeal in expounding these truths to their minds, and in urging upon them the duty of obedience. But what is the aim of this preaching? Perhaps one will reply, I know the man cannot determine himself to obedience, but in preaching to him, I am presenting motives which may influence him. But in denying his ability to do good, you deny the possibility of moving him by motives drawn from religious truth and obligation. His heart, by supposition, is not in correlation with truth and duty; the more, therefore, you preach truth and duty, the more intense is the sense of the disagreeable which you awaken. As when you present objects to a man’s mind which are correlated to his feelings, the more clearly and frequently you present them, the more you advance towards the sense of the most agreeable or choice. So when you present objects which are not correlated to his feelings, the more clearly and frequently you present them, the more you must advance towards the sense of the most disagreeable, or positive refusal.
If it be affirmed, in reply to this, that the presentation of truth forms the occasion or condition on which the divine influence is exerted for the regeneration of the heart, then I ask, why do you urge the man to repent, and believe, and love God, and discharge religious duty generally, and rebuke him for sin, when you know that he is utterly unable to move, in the slightest degree, towards any of these affections and actions, and utterly unable to leave off sinning, until the divine influence be exerted, which brings his heart into correlation with religion, and makes it possible for him to put forth the volitions of piety and duty? It can be regarded in no other light than playing a solemn farce, thus to rebuke and urge and persuade, as if the man ought to make some exertion when you feel convinced that exertion is impossible. It certainly can form no occasion for divine interposition, unless it be in pity of human folly. If you say that such a course does succeed in the conversion of men, then we are constrained to believe that your philosophy is wrong, and that your practice succeeds, because inconsistent with it, and really belonging to some other system which you know not, or understand not and deny.
A total inability to do good makes man the passive subject of influences to be employed for his regeneration, and he can no more be considered active in effecting it than he is in the process of digesting food, or in the curative action of medicines upon any diseased part of his system. If you urge him to exert himself for his regeneration, you urge him to put forth volitions which, according to this philosophy, are in no sense possible until the regeneration has been effected, or at least commenced.
I will go one step farther in this reasoning:—on supposition of total inability, not only is the individual a passive subject of regenerating influences, but he is also incapable of regeneration, or any disposition or tendency towards regeneration, from any influences which lie merely in motives, produced by arraying objects before the mind. Motive, according to the definition, exhibited in the statement of Edwards’s system, lies in the nature and circumstances of the object standing in correlation with the state of mind. Now the state of mind, in an unregenerate state, is a state represented by this system itself, as totally adverse to the objects of religion. Hence, there is no conceivable array of religious truth, and no conceivable religious exhortation and persuasion that could possibly come into such a relation to this state of mind as to form the motive of a religious choice or volition. It is perfectly plain, that before such a result could take place, the state of mind itself would have to be changed. But as the array of religious truth and the energy of religious exhortation must fail to produce the required volitions, on account of the state of mind, so neither can the state of mind be changed by this array of truth or by this exhortation. There is a positive opposition of mind and object, and the collision becomes more severe upon every attempt to bring them together. It must follow, therefore, that preaching truth and duty to the unregenerate, so far from leading to their conversion, can only serve to call out more actively the necessary determination, not to obey. The very enlightening of the intelligence, as it gives a clearer perception of the disagreeable objects, only increases the disinclination.
Nor can we pause in this consequence, at human instrumentality. It must be equally true, that if divine interposition lies in the presentation of truth and persuasions to duty, only that these are given with tenfold light and power, it must fail of accomplishing regeneration, or of producing any tendency towards regeneration. The heart being in no correlation with these,—its sense of the disagreeable,—and therefore the energy of its refusal will only be the more intense and decided.
If it should be remarked that hope and fear are feelings, which, even in a state of unregeneracy, can be operated upon, the state of things is equally difficult. No such hope can be operated upon as implies desire after religious principles and enjoyments; for this cannot belong to the corrupt nature; nor can any fear be aroused which implies a reverence of the divine purity, and an abhorrence of sin. The fear could only relate to danger and suffering; and the hope, to deliverance and security, independently of moral qualities. The mere excitement of these passions might awaken attention, constrain to an outward obedience, and form a very prudent conduct, but could effect no purification of the heart.
There is another class of theologians, of whom Edwards is one, who endeavour to escape the difficulties which attend a total inability, by making the distinction of moral and natural inability:—man, they say, is morally unable to do good, and naturally able to do good, and therefore he can justly be made the subject of command, appeal, rebuke, and exhortation. The futility of this distinction I cannot but think has already been made apparent. It may be well, however, inasmuch as so great stress is laid upon it, to call up a brief consideration of it in this particular connexion.
Moral inability, as we have seen, is the impossibility of a given volition, because there are no motives or causes to produce it. It is simply the impossibility of an effect for the want of a cause: when we speak of moral cause and effect, according to Edwards, we speak of nothing different from physical cause and effect, except in the quality of the terms—the relation of the terms is the same. The impossibility of a given volition, therefore, when the appropriate motive is wanting, is equal to the impossibility of freezing water in the sun of a summer’s noon-tide.[1]