Robert Letham

© 2011 by Robert Letham

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All quotations from the Old Testament are from The Holy Bible, English Standard
Version, copyright © 2001 by Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News
Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved. All quotations from the New
Testament are the author’s own translation, unless otherwise noted.
Italics within Scripture quotations indicate emphasis added.
Page design and typesetting by Lakeside Design Plus
Printed in the United States of America
ISBN 978-1-59638-484-2 (ePub)
ISBN 978-1-59638-485-9 (Mobipocket)
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Letham, Robert.
Union with Christ : in Scripture, history, and theology / Robert Letham.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references (p. ) and indexes.
ISBN 978-1-59638-063-9 (pbk.)
1. Mystical union. 2. Jesus Christ--Person and offices. 3. Reformed Church--
Doctrines. I. Title.
BT767.7.L48 2011
232’.8--dc23
2011016916

For Joan
Elizabeth and Christopher
Caroline and Leo, and Levi
Adam

Contents

Acknowledgments
Abbreviations
Introduction
1. Creation
2. Incarnation
3. Pentecost
4. Union with Christ and Representation
5. Union with Christ and
Transformation
6. Union with Christ in Death and Resurrection
Bibliography
Index of Scripture
Index of Subjects and Names

Acknowledgments

Those who have read my earlier book The Work of Christ

(Leicester, UK: Inter-Varsity Press; Downers Grove, IL:
InterVarsity Press, 1993) will be aware that union with Christ
is a theme in which I have had an interest for some time. In
that book I devoted a chapter to it. Who could fail to be
interested in something that lies right at the heart of biblical
soteriology? This present volume represents the distillation
of thought over a range of areas down the years. It makes it
more than difficult to do full justice to all the influences that
may have impinged on me in that time. It reminds us that it
is extremely hazardous to posit specific influences on
particular authors without tangible evidence to support such
claims.
So let me confine myself to more immediate
indebtedness. I am very thankful to Dr. Richard B. Gaffin Jr.,
Professor of Biblical and Systematic Theology Emeritus,
Westminster Theological Seminary, Philadelphia, and Dr.
William B. Evans, Younts Professor of Bible and Religion,
Erskine College, Due West, South Carolina, for reading
through the draft chapters and making very useful
suggestions. Neither can be charged with any errors or
misconceptions in this book, which are entirely my own, nor
with the views expressed in it. Dr. Michael Horton, J.
Gresham Machen Professor of Systematic Theology and
Apologetics, Westminster Seminary California, Escondido,
California, also took a look at one draft section and saved
me a lot of anguish by his comments, insofar as I
determined to omit the section and return to it on another
occasion.
On the bibliographical front, my thanks are due to the Rev.
Peter H. Lewis of Nottingham for recommending that I
consult the seventeenth-century Puritan author Rowland
Stedman, who wrote a significant treatise on the subject. Dr.
Mark Garcia pointed me to the correspondence between
John Calvin and Pietro Martire Vermigli in 1555; this was
before his own important work was published. I have
benefited from the services of the British Library and also
Cambridge University Library, especially the Rare Books
Room. Once again, Early English Books Online has been a
great resource.
Special appreciation is due, as usual, to those at P&R
Publishing who have helped in the preparation of this book.
Marvin Padgett, Vice President, Editorial, has encouraged
me on an ongoing basis, while thanks are also due to
Barbara Lerch and Jeremy Kappes. John J. Hughes and Karen
Magnuson have been an extremely perceptive and
assiduous editorial team.
I am thankful for the faculty, staff, and students of Wales
Evangelical School of Theology, where I teach. Even more
so, I am grateful to my wife, Joan, for her constant and
loving support.
Above all, I give thanks to the God we worship—the
Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit in the unity of their
indivisible being—for granting us union with Christ, so
making us partakers of the divine nature, of which, as Calvin
wrote, “nothing more outstanding can be imagined.”
 Abbreviations

BDAG Walter Bauer, Frederick William Danker, William Arndt,

and F. Wilbur Gingrich, eds., A Greek-English Lexicon of
the New Testament and Other Early Christian
Literature, 3rd ed. (Chicago: University of Chicago
Press, 2001)
BQ Baptist Quarterly
CD Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics, ed. Geoffrey W. Bromiley
and Thomas F. Torrance, 4 vols. (Edinburgh: T&T Clark,
1956–77)
CO John Calvin, Opera quae supersunt omnia, ed. Guilielmus
Baum, Eduardus Cunitz, and Eduardus Reiss, 59 vols.,
Corpus Reformatorum, vols. 29–87 (Brunswick: C. A.
Schwetschke and Son, 1863–1900)
CTJ Calvin Theological Journal
EQ Evangelical Quarterly
ESV English Standard Version

Institutes John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, ed.

Ford Lewis Battles and John T. McNeill (1559; repr.,
Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1960)
JETS Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society
LN Johannes P. Louw and Eugene A. Nida, eds., Greek-
English Lexicon of the New Testament Based on
Semantic Domains (New York: United Bible Societies,
1988)
LS Henry George Liddell and Robert Scott, A Greek-English
Lexicon, rev. Henry Stuart Jones, 9th ed. (Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1940)
NT New Testament
OS Joannis Calvini Opera Selecta, ed. Petrus Barth and
Guilelmus Niesel, 5 vols. (Munich: Christoph Kaiser,
1926–52)
OT Old Testament
PG J. P. Migne et al., eds., Patrologia graeca (Paris, 1857–66)
PL J. P. Migne et al., eds., Patrologia Latina (Paris, 1878–90)
SBET Scottish Bulletin of Evangelical Theology
SCJ Sixteenth Century Journal
SJT Scottish Journal of Theology
ST Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica
SW Selected Works of John Calvin: Tracts and Letters, ed.
Henry Beveridge and Jules Bonnet, 7 vols. (1858; repr.,
Grand Rapids: Baker, 1987)
WCF Westminster Confession of Faith
Wing Donald Wing, Short-Title Catalogue of Books Printed in
England, Scotland, Ireland, Wales and British America,
and of English Books Printed in Other Countries, 1641–
1700 (New York: Index South, 1945)
WLC Westminster Larger Catechism
WSC Westminster Shorter Catechism
WTJ Westminster Theological Journal
Introduction

Union with Christ is right at the center of the Christian

doctrine of salvation. The whole of our relationship with God
can be summed up in such terms. John Calvin agreed when
he wrote: “For we await salvation from him not because he
appears to us afar off, but because he makes us, ingrafted
into his body, participants not only in all his benefits but
also in himself.”1 WLC 65–90 describes our entire salvation
as union and communion with Christ in grace and glory. John
Murray considered that “nothing is more central or basic
than union and communion with Christ,”2 for it “is the
central truth of the whole doctrine of salvation.”3 In the
words of Lane Tipton, “there are no benefits of the gospel
apart from union with Christ.”4
The task of understanding what this means is made a lot
harder by the limits of our human finitude. The literature
discusses at some length the relationship between union
with Christ and justification, sanctification, or some other
such matter. When one asks what in fact this union consists
in, however, what it actually is, there is a general silence. It
is not difficult to see why this is so. The reality far surpasses
the ability of human language to describe it. Being united to
Christ involves union with the Son of God, who himself
transcends our finitude. Being indwelt by the Holy Spirit
entails union with the whole Trinity. This goes beyond what
we can even imagine.
Yet the fact of the incarnation should be enough to alert
us to the truth that we have been made by God to be
compatible with him. If we cannot reach up to God to
penetrate the divine mysteries, he has reached down to
reveal himself truly and faithfully to us in Christ his Son. He
has left a written record in Scripture. We are not left to
grope in the dark in blissful ignorance.
From the middle of the seventeenth century on, however,
this great jewel in the crown of God’s grace has gone into
eclipse. Today not much is said about union with Christ from
the pulpit, and until recently, little was written about it.
William B. Evans has charted its demise in American
Reformed theology. Jonathan Edwards and Charles Hodge,
two great stalwarts of the American Reformed tradition,
were particularly responsible, he claims, for a division
between two aspects of union with Christ that Calvin had
held together: the external element of imputation and the
transformative element of the work of the Holy Spirit. A
tension developed between the desire to maintain the utter
graciousness of our salvation, achieved by Christ, applied by
the Spirit, received by us—seen particularly in justification
only by faith—and, on the other hand, the ongoing work of
the Holy Spirit, sent by the Father to indwell us and change
us into his image. These two elements were detached and
considered in isolation.5
Questions have arisen over the relationship between
justification and sanctification in Calvin as aspects of union
with Christ. I do not have time to discuss this in any detail.
Among neoorthodox scholars, it is held that the later
Reformed scholastics, in prioritizing justification, departed
from Calvin, who dealt with sanctification first in book 3 of
the 1559 edition of the Institutes. This misses the seismic
shift in Reformation and post-Reformation studies
associated with Richard Muller and others. Muller has
convincingly argued that Calvin, in his Institutes, follows the
order of teaching in Paul’s Letter to the Romans, which
provided the basis for his ordering of topics from the 1539
edition onward, largely following Philipp Melanchthon.6 In
doing this, Calvin does not imply by the order of his
treatment of topics in book 3 any particular set of priorities
in his theology. The idea of an ordo salutis was not a live
issue at the time Calvin wrote, and it is misleading to search
for one in his writings.7 As I have argued elsewhere, the
Westminster Assembly (1643–49) did not discuss a rigorous
logical order. It spent most of the time in theological debate
related to the exegesis of biblical passages. Topics were
discussed on a first-come, first-served basis as the
committees presented their respective reports to the full
body. Indeed, the idea of a central organizing principle arose
only in nineteenth-century German scholarship; it is
anachronistic to look for it three hundred years earlier.8
Union with Christ cannot be said to control Calvin’s
soteriology. Still less does it determine the relative order of
priority of justification and sanctification in his thought.
There is plenty of evidence in the 1559 Institutes itself
indicating that Calvin shared the views of the later
Reformed that justification was foundational. He regards it
as “the main hinge on which religion turns,” since it is
necessary as a foundation on which to establish our
salvation and build piety toward God.9 Yet all this should not
lead us to conclude that union with Christ was anything but
central and vital to his view of salvation.10
From within the ranks of English Puritanism, Rowland
Stedman, one of the ministers ejected from their livings in
1662,11 in an important treatise published in 1668,12 argued
that “in order to an interest in eternal life, and partaking of
those blessings which are given forth by Christ . . . it is of
absolute necessity, that we be united unto Christ.”
Therefore, “if we will have life from the Son, we must have
the Son; that is, we must be made one with him. No union
with Jesus, and no communication of life and salvation from
Jesus.” First the Lord “doth plant them [believers] into
Christ, and then bless them in him, and through him.”13
The Centrality of Union with Christ in the Bible
Union with Christ is crucial to, and at the heart of, the
biblical teaching about salvation. In support we can point to
a range of significant passages throughout the NT, from a
variety of authors.
Paul
In Ephesians 1:3–14, Paul sums up the whole of the
Christian faith as entailing union with Christ. From election
before the foundation of the world (vv. 3–4), to redemption
by the blood of Christ (v. 7), to the earnest of the Holy Spirit,
who seals us to the day of redemption (vv. 13–14), all
happens in him, in Christ, whether it is particularly
attributable to the Father, as in election and predestination
(vv. 3–5), to the Son in redemption (v. 7), or to the Holy
Spirit (vv. 13–14). Indeed, the renovation of the entire
cosmos is to occur under the headship of Christ (v. 10).14
John
In John 14:16ff., Jesus compares the relationship between
his disciples and himself with his own relation to the Father.
He and the Father are in each other, mutually indwelling in
the unity of the Trinity. Moreover, he and the disciples would
indwell each other, too. When the Holy Spirit was to come at
Pentecost, they would know that “I am in my Father, and
you in me, and I in you” (v. 20).
Moreover, Jesus reinforces this concept in what follows. To
those who love him and keep his word, “my Father will love
him and we will come to him and make our home with him”
(v. 23). Here the whole Trinity will take up residence with
those who love Jesus and keep his commandments. The Son
and the Father will make their home with them, while the
context points to the coming of the Spirit as the occasion
when this will take place. The word monē does not denote a
temporary visitation, as when the Spirit came on the
prophets; it is a permanent dwelling.15
In John 17:21ff., Jesus prays to the Father for his church
that it will display a unity before the world in some way
analogous to the union the Son has with the Father in the
unity of the indivisible Trinity. The Father and the Son are
distinct, as is evident in this prayer in which the Son
addresses the Father; yet they are one. Their oneness does
not erode the distinction, nor does the distinction sever their
oneness. In verse 21, he speaks of the unity of the church
—“that they may be one”—and the union of the Father and
the Son, and makes the latter the template of the former
—“just as you, Father, are in me, and I in you, that they also
may be in us.” From this, those who were to believe in him
through the testimony of the apostles would be in the Father
and the Son.
He adds the prayer “that they may be one even as we are
one, I in them and you in me, that they may become
perfectly one” (vv. 22–23). The unity of believers for which
Jesus prays is also grounded in the union the church has
with Christ himself. It is clear that the Father and the Son
are distinct yet one; their union is a unity-in-distinction.
Hence, the unity of believers cannot offset their own
particular distinctiveness. Furthermore, it is founded on the
fact that the Son is in them. Jesus’ prayer for his church
centers in the fact of his indwelling it and its consequent
introduction into the life of God himself.
Peter
In 1 Peter 1:3–4, Peter’s introduction shows that he
regards the gospel as, at root, focused in union with Christ.
The “elect exiles of the dispersion” to whom he writes have
been “born again to a living hope through the resurrection
of Jesus Christ from the dead.” Their regeneration, at the
start of their Christian career, occurred through Christ’s
resurrection. Regeneration is itself a resurrection; Paul wrote
of the pre-regenerate state as one of death in sin (Eph. 2:1),
with the corollary that regeneration entails a coming to life.
In this case, regeneration is sharing in Christ’s resurrection
and so occurs by the power of that momentous event. It is
being made alive with Christ. It does not take place in
isolation for this or that person; it is inescapably corporate,
in a dynamic union with Christ himself.
Union with Christ and Justification
According to Paul in Romans 5:12–21, just as Adam
plunged the whole race into sin and death because of their
relationship of solidarity with him, so the second Adam
brings life and righteousness to all who sustain a
relationship of solidarity with him.
If, because of one man’s trespass, death reigned through that one
man, much more will those who receive the abundance of grace and
the free gift of righteousness reign in life through the one man Jesus
Christ. (Rom. 5:17 ESV)

Here Paul reflects on his previous statement of the one

way of salvation from sin by the propitiatory death of Christ,
which avails for all who believe (Rom. 3:21ff.). Justification is
received only by faith and is grounded on what Christ did
once for all in his death and resurrection (4:25). Paul’s point
is that we are not addressed merely as discrete individuals;
instead, we are placed by God in solidaristic groups or
teams. Adam was head or captain of a team of which we all
were members. His sin plunged the whole team into sin,
ruin, death, and condemnation. What Christ did for us was
also done as the head of a team of which we are part. He
did it on our behalf, for us—and God reckons it to our
account as a result of our being united, through faith, with
him as the head of the team. Our justification is therefore
grounded on union with Christ.16
Union with Christ and Sanctification
In Romans 6:1ff., in answer to charges that his gospel
encourages moral indifference, Paul insists that believers,
the justified, live to Christ and do not give themselves over
to sin. This is because they died with Christ to sin and rose
again to new life in his resurrection. Not only did Christ die
and rise again for them, but they died and rose with him.
Union with Christ is the foundational basis for sanctification
and the dynamic force that empowers it. As Paul says, “Do
you not know that as many as were baptized into Christ
Jesus were baptized into his death; we were buried with him
through baptism into death, so that as Christ was raised
from the dead through the glory of the Father so we too
should live in newness of life” (6:3–4).
Union with Christ and Resurrection
Paul argues in 1 Corinthians 15 that the resurrection of
Christ and the future resurrection of his church is one reality
(vv. 12–19). Paul argues back and forth from one to the
other. If Christ is not raised, there can be no resurrection of
believers. If there is no general resurrection, Christ cannot
have been raised himself. The two stand together. In fact,
Christ has been raised—and so, therefore, will we be. Christ
is the firstfruits of the resurrection of believers at his return
(vv. 19–23). Not only is his resurrection first in time, but as
firstfruits, it is of the same kind as the full harvest. Hence, it
is the guarantee not only that the full harvest will be
gathered but that both his resurrection and ours are
identical. From this it is clear that the resurrection of
believers at the parousia is a resurrection in Christ. The
resurrections are effectively the same (v. 35ff.). The
Einstein-Bell-Podorsky theory of the identical behavior of
subatomic particles separated by indefinite space is
paralleled here in the resurrection. Christ’s resurrection and
the resurrection of the righteous, separated by indefinite
time, are identical because the latter occurs in union with
the former.
As Tony Lane has written, “Until we are united with Christ
what he has achieved for us helps us no more than an
electricity mains supply that passes our house but is not
connected to it.”17
ONE

Creation

Union with Christ rests on the basis of the creation of man

to be compatible with God. This is at the heart of the
message of the first chapter of Genesis, which highlights the
creation of man as male and female, and his rule over the
created order. So as to see how this relates to our great
theme, we will look first at the overall context of the
chapter. In summary, it points to God the Creator as a
relational being, with man made in his image reflecting this
characteristic in himself. Ultimately it points forward to the
coming of Jesus Christ, who is the image of the invisible
God.
The Trinitarian Basis of Creation
The first chapter of Genesis portrays the creation and
formation of the world, and the ordered shaping of a place
for the human race to live. It presents man as head of
creation, in relation to and in communion with God his
Creator. The act of creation itself is direct and immediate
(vv. 1–2), distinct from the work of formation that follows.18
The result is a cosmos formless, empty, dark, and wet—unfit
for human life. The rest of the chapter describes the world’s
formation (or distinction) and adornment, God’s introducing
of order, light, and dryness, making it fit for life to flourish.
First, God creates light, and sets boundaries to the darkness
(vv. 2–5). Second, he molds the earth into shape so that it is
no longer formless (vv. 6–8, 9–10). Third, God separates the
waters and forms dry land, so that it is no longer entirely
wet (vv. 9–10). Following this, he populates the earth,
ending its emptiness (vv. 20–30), first with fish and birds,
then with land animals, and finally, as the apex of the
whole, with human beings made in his image. This God is
not only almighty but also a master planner, artist, and
architect supreme. This order is clear from the parallels
between two groups of days: the first three and the second
three.19 In all this God shows his sovereign freedom in
naming and blessing his creation, and sees it as thoroughly
good. At the end comes the unfinished seventh day, when
God enters his rest, which he made to share with man, his
partner, whom he created in his own image. There is an
implicit invitation for us to follow.20
Particularly striking is God’s sovereign and variegated
ordering of his creation. In particular, he forms the earth in a
threefold manner. First, he issues direct fiats. He says, “Let
there be light,” and there is light (v. 3). So, too, he brings
into being with seemingly effortless command the expanse
(v. 6), the dry ground (v. 9), the stars (vv. 14–15), the birds
and the fish (vv. 20–21). Each time it is enough for God to
speak, and his edict is fulfilled. Second, he works. He
separates the light from the darkness (v. 4), he makes the
expanse and separates the waters (v. 7), he makes the two
great lights, the sun and the moon (v. 16), and sets them in
the expanse to give light on the earth (v. 17), he creates the
great creatures of the seas and various kinds of birds (v.
21), he makes the beasts of the earth and reptiles (v. 25),
and finally he creates man—male and female—in his own
image (vv. 26–27). The thought is of focused, purposive
action by God, of divine labor accomplishing his ends. But
there is also a third way of formation, in which God uses the
activity of the creatures themselves. God commands the
earth to produce vegetation, plants, and trees (vv. 11–12).
He commands the lights to govern the day and night (vv.
14–16). He commands the earth to bring forth land animals
(v. 24). Here the creatures follow God’s instructions and
contribute to the eventual outcome. This God who created
the universe does not work in a monolithic way. His order is
varied—it is threefold but one. His work shows diversity in
its unity and unity in diversity. This God loves order and
variety together.21
This reflects what the chapter records of God himself. The
triadic manner of the earth’s formation reflects who God its
Creator is. He is a relational being. This is implicit from the
very start. We notice a distinction between God who created
the heavens and earth (v. 1), the Spirit of God who hovers
over the face of the waters (v. 2), and the speech or word of
God issuing the fiat “Let there be light” (v. 3). His speech
recurs frequently throughout the chapter. While it is most
unlikely that the author and original readers would have
understood the Spirit of God in a personalized way, because
of the heavy and insistent stress in the OT on the
uniqueness of the one God, Gordon Wenham is sound when
he suggests that this is a vivid image of the Spirit of God.22
The later NT personalizing of the Spirit of God is a congruent
development from this statement.
With the creation of man is the unique deliberation “Let us
make man in our image,” which expresses a plurality in God
(vv. 26–27). Gerhard Von Rad says that this signifies the
high point and goal to which all of God’s creative activity is
directed.23 Since Scripture has a fullness that goes beyond
the horizons of the original authors, the many church
fathers who saw this as a reference to the Trinity were on
the right track. While this was concealed from the original
readers and from the OT saints as a whole, and was not how
it was understood then, the fathers were certainly not at
variance with the trajectory of the text. Rabbinical
commentators were often perplexed by this passage and
other similar ones referring to a plurality in God (Gen. 3:22;
11:7; Isa. 6:8). The NT gives us the principle that the OT
contains in seed form what is more fully made known in the
NT, and on that basis we may look back to the earlier
writings, much as at the end of a detective mystery we
reread the plot, seeing clues that we missed the first time
but are now given fresh meaning by our knowledge of the
whole. In terms of the sensus plenior (the “fuller meaning”)
of Scripture, these words of God attest a plurality in God,
which later came to be expressed in the doctrine of the
Trinity. The original readers would not have grasped this, but
we, with the full plot disclosed, can revisit the passage and
see there the clues.24
I have written elsewhere, commenting on Genesis 1:26–
27, that “man exists as a duality, the one in relation to the
other. . . . As for God himself . . . the context points to his
own intrinsic relationality. The plural occurs on three
occasions in v. 26, yet God is also singular in v. 27. God is
placed in parallel with man, made in his image as male and
female, who is described both in the singular and plural.
Behind it all is the distinction God/Spirit of God/speech of
God in vv. 1–3 . . . This relationality will in the development
of biblical revelation eventually be disclosed as taking the
form of a triunity.”25 I refer there to kindred comments by
Karl Barth.26
Christ as Mediator of Creation
Flowing from the biblical presentation of creation as a
work of the whole Trinity comes the NT assertion of the
creation mediatorship of Jesus Christ. I have discussed this
theme elsewhere.27 It is found in John 1, where the Logos is
described as existing “in the beginning,” a phrase strongly
reminiscent of Genesis 1:1. This Logos, who was with God
and who was God, who became flesh and lived among us, is
also described as the Creator of all things (John 1:3). This
follows from his being life itself; he is not merely the Author
of life, as if life were something independent and
autonomous, but he himself is life (v. 4). His creating is free,
but it is also an expression of who he is.
Paul expounds a similar theme in Colossians 1:16–17,
where he affirms that “all things were created in him, things
in heaven and on earth, things visible and invisible; whether
thrones and dominions, rulers and authorities, all things
were created through him and to him. And he is before all
things, and in him all things hold together.” In this Paul
argues that Christ as the preexistent Son (cf. v. 13) is the
Creator of the universe. “All things” is comprehensive,
excluding nothing. Personal and impersonal, angelic and
human, animal and plant—all owe their existence to the
Son. Moreover, not only did he create them all, but he did so
in such a way that he is their head. Creation was made in
Christ. In turn, the cosmos has a purpose. It is held together
by the Son. He sustains it at every moment and directs it
toward the end he intends for it. That end is himself. All
things were created and are sustained for Christ. The reason
the universe exists is for the glory of Christ, the Son of God.
The goal toward which it is heading is conformity to him. As
Paul wrote to the Ephesians, all things will be under the
headship of Christ for eternity (Eph. 1:10).28
The author of Hebrews describes the Son in whom God’s
final word has been given as the One who created the ages
(Heb. 1:2) and who continues to uphold all things by his
powerful word, directing them to the end he has eternally
intended (v. 3). As has been widely noted, the imagery is
not static, as if he were carrying the world as a dead weight,
but dynamic, directing it purposefully to its destined goal.
There is more than a hint here that the author is identifying
Christ, the Son, with the word spoken at creation (cf. Gen.
1:3).
Furthermore, in the great vision in Revelation 5, John sees
that the Lamb alone is both able and worthy to open the
seals and so to govern world affairs. He is sovereign over all
that happens in the world and to his church. The rest of the
book spells this out in terms of judgment on the world and
ultimate victory for the persecuted church.29
Man Created in Christ, the Image of God
 As we noted, the high point of the chapter is the creation
of the first Adam in the image of God (Gen. 1:26–27); it is
the only place here in which the self-deliberation of God is
recorded. It is as though the author were taking a
highlighter and marking these statements as absolutely
crucial to a grasp of the whole. In short, this is the focus of
the chapter, the goal to which it is moving. What does it
mean? In the NT, Paul says that believers are being renewed
in the image of God in knowledge, righteousness, and
holiness (Eph. 4:24; Col. 3:10). The question whether fallen
man is still the image of God and, if so, in what sense this is
true has been debated at great length through the years.
Some statements in the Bible suggest that this is true of all
people, regardless of their relationship to God,30 whereas
these Pauline passages imply that it is true only for those
renewed by the Holy Spirit. Reformed theologians have
understood this dilemma in terms of a dual aspect to man
as the image of God, speaking of the image in the broader
sense, in which all participate, and in the narrower sense,
which relates only to Christian believers. This has appeared
unsatisfactory in a range of ways. The resolution is to be
found in terms of redemptive history. In doing so, we are
retrieving what the Greek fathers had taught centuries
earlier.31
The text of Genesis states that the man and his wife were
created in the image of God. The image of God itself is
identified for us in the NT. Paul points out that it is Christ
who is the image of God (2 Cor. 4:4; Col. 1:15). In discussing
the resurrection of the body, he compares Adam with the
risen Christ. From Adam we inherit the image of the earthly,
in weakness and mortality, whereas in the risen Christ we
receive the image of the heavenly, under the direction and
domination of the Holy Spirit (1 Cor. 15:45–49).32 In Paul’s
thought, Christ as the second Adam is the image of God.
Adam was created in Christ and then fell from that
condition, but now, in grace, we are being renewed in the
image of God, in Christ the second Adam, and thus in
knowledge, righteousness, and holiness. This teaching is
also presented by the author of Hebrews. In the first
paragraph, the letter states that the Son by whom God has
spoken his final and ultimate word is “the brightness of his
[God’s] glory and the express image of his being” (Heb.
1:3).
Therefore, from the very first, God’s ultimate purpose was
foundational to all that he did—all things were heading,
under his direction, to the goal he had set for them, to be
headed up under the lordship of Christ. The incarnation was
planned from eternity as an integral part of the whole work
of salvation in Christ. This is quite different from the
speculative claim that Christ would have become incarnate
even if Adam had not sinned; if the incarnation and
atonement were determined eternally, as the Bible testifies,
so, too, was the fall of Adam.
God and Man: Distinct yet Compatible
Because man was created in the image of God, he was
made for communion with God, to rule God’s creation on his
behalf. This is clear from Genesis 1, where the man and his
wife were given dominion over the earth, over all that God
had created. Psalm 8:3–8 reflects on this truth poetically:
When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers,
the moon and the stars, which you have set in place,
what is man that you are mindful of him,
and the son of man that you care for him?
Yet you have made him a little lower than the heavenly beings
and crowned him with glory and honor.
You have given him dominion over the works of your hands;
you have put all things under his feet,
all sheep and oxen,
and also the beasts of the field,
the birds of the heavens, and the fish of the sea,
whatever passes along the paths of the seas.

Man is therefore a creature, made by God, not eternal or

intrinsically immortal but the highest creature, to whom and
for whom the world was made. As a finite creature, he has
been given the great privilege of governing the earth on
behalf of his Creator. At the same time, he was also
connected to God, made in his image and living in
communion with him. The implication of Genesis 2 is that
there was regular communication between God and Adam
before the fall. God gave the man and the woman verbal
charge to multiply and have dominion (Gen. 1:28–30),
instructed Adam to abstain from the tree of the knowledge
of good and evil, while being free to eat of all other trees in
the garden (2:16), and brought to him the woman he had
made for him (2:21–22). In rather different circumstances,
after the fall, he addressed the errant pair (3:8ff.).
Therefore, on the one hand there is a difference between
God and man. God is the Creator, man his creature. God is
infinite and eternal, sovereign and all-powerful; man is weak
and finite, a creature of time and space, limited to one place
at one time, subject to the rule of God his Creator,
derivative, not creative in the sense outlined in Genesis. The
prophet Isaiah stresses this point on many occasions,
drawing attention to the uniqueness and supremacy of
Yahweh the God of Judah:
Thus says the LORD, the King of Israel
and his Redeemer, the LORD of hosts:
“I am the first and I am the last;
besides me there is no god.
Who is like me? Let him proclaim it.
Let him declare and set it before me,
since I appointed an ancient people.
Let them declare what is to come, and what will happen.
Fear not, nor be afraid;
have I not told you from of old and declared it?
And you are my witnesses!
Is there a God besides me?
There is no Rock; I know not any.” (Isa. 44:6–8)

On the other hand, however, there is an inherent

compatibility between God and man. Man has been created
in the image of God. He was made for communion with his
Creator. He was given responsibility for the earth,
accountable directly to God. He was placed in a situation in
which word-revelation was the normal manner of
communication between himself and the woman, and
between himself and God. He was constituted by God a
covenant partner, given the freedom of the beautiful
garden, granted clear-cut responsibilities in it for the glory
of God, warned about the consequences of deviating from
this task and misusing the creation in defiance of his God,
and so honored with moral qualities and responsibility. He
was made for God, and God condescended to him to be his
partner in the task of world-rule. Moreover, since all this was
done with the express intention of the incarnation of the Son
(we will consider this topic in the next chapter), this
compatibility is demonstrably at the heart of God’s intention
for his creation and for man himself.
The Fall: Unity Disrupted
Sin entered; Genesis 3 tells the sorry tale. Adam and his
wife disobeyed God’s law and reaped the consequences,
which are ultimately found in death. One of the immediate
results of human sin was a disrupted relationship with the
created order. Adam had been placed in the garden to till
the ground, to bring it into subjection.33 Now that sin had
entered, Adam’s work, intended as a blessing, became a
curse. The land was to yield thorns and thistles. Work was to
become hard labor. The fruits of human toil would be paltry
in comparison with what they would and could have been
(Gen. 3:14–19).
Hebrews 2:5–9 reflects on the poetic account of man’s
place in creation found in Psalm 8. God put everything
under his feet. But we do not yet see everything subject to
man. He has not yet achieved this goal. It is all too evident
in the world around us. The environment is in a precarious
position. Unwise governmental policies, unchecked
exploitation of natural resources, disruptive and destructive
wars, the repression of human enterprise by totalitarian
dictatorships and meddlesome bureaucracies—these have
all contributed to severe problems that affect the food
chain, the quality of life, and much more. The major
problem is that man cannot control himself. Constant strife,
unchecked self-interest, societal breakdown, and violent
religious fanaticism run rampant. Since man cannot even
exercise discipline over his own inclinations, how can he
bring the cosmos into godly subjection?
Yet we see Jesus, who for a little while was made lower
than the angels in his incarnation and in the time of his
lowliness from conception to the cross. He is now seated at
the right hand of God, in authority over all things, fulfilling
God’s purpose for the human race at creation. The focus
shifts in citing Psalm 8 from man in general to Jesus in
particular.
Now in putting everything in subjection to him, he left nothing outside
his control. At present, we do not yet see everything in subjection to
him. But we see Jesus who for a little while was made lower than the
angels so that by the grace of God he might taste death for everyone,
because of the suffering of death crowned with glory and honor. (Heb.
2:8b–9)34

He is the pioneer and perfecter of our faith who is bringing

us there to share with him in the rule over the renovated
cosmos. This we will do in union with him. Where the first
Adam failed, having succumbed to the tempter and plunged
himself and the race into sin, the second Adam prevailed,
resisting the devil and by his obedience bringing those in
union with him to the goal mapped out for them. John Henry
Newman captures the idea in his hymn “Praise to the Holiest
in the Height”:
O loving wisdom of our God, when all was sin and shame,
A second Adam to the fight and to the rescue came.
O wisest love, that flesh and blood which did in Adam fail,
Should strive afresh against the foe, should strive and should prevail.
 Union with Christ rests on the foundation of man’s nature
as created, seen in the light of God’s end purpose for man.
Christ as the second or last Adam achieves what the first
Adam so signally failed to do. In view of this, the incarnation
of Christ is crucial. It is the Archimedean point in this grand
panorama. It is the theme of the next chapter.

TWO

Incarnation

Christ’s Union with Humanity

The witness of the NT is that Jesus Christ is the eternal
Son of God. Producing evidence in support of this claim is
superfluous; it has been abundantly demonstrated to be the
overwhelming theme throughout the Gospels and Epistles.
John frames his Gospel with two great affirmations. In the
prologue, he declares that the Logos who was in the
beginning with God and was God, who created all things,
became flesh and lived among us (John 1:1–4, 14–18). At
the end, the climax of the document is Thomas’s affirmation
“My Lord and my God!” (20:28). In between, Jesus claims
equality with God and defends himself against the charge of
blasphemy on the grounds that he is telling the truth (5:16–
47). Later, he goes one stage further by claiming identity
with the Father, with the same consequences as before
(10:22–36). He points to himself as coordinate with God as
the object of faith (14:1), since he who has seen him has
seen the Father (14:7–11). Indeed, he and the Father
mutually indwell each other in the being of God (14:7–20;
17:21–24). In the Gospel of Matthew, he presents himself as
having coordinate knowledge and sovereignty with God the
Father (Matt. 11:25–27). Paul characteristically calls the
risen Christ kurios (“Lord”), the Greek equivalent of the
Hebrew adonai, used instead of YHWH for the God of Israel.35
Yet Jesus was also born, grew, and developed from infancy
to childhood to adulthood. He was conceived by the Holy
Spirit, and born of the virgin Mary. The birth narratives in
Matthew 1:18–25 and Luke 1:26–38 describe this in turn
from the perspectives of Joseph and Mary. Both Gospels
portray the Holy Spirit as responsible for Jesus’ conception
(Matt. 1:18; Luke 1:34–35), much to the astonishment of
both Mary and her husband. There is evidence that other NT
writers were aware of these events. Mark refers to Jesus as
“the son of Mary” (Mark 6:3), in radical departure from the
custom of naming a man as the son of his father. Paul, in
Galatians 4:4, employs ginesthai (“to become”) when
writing of Jesus’ birth, despite his otherwise invariable
practice of using gennan for human begetting, three
occurrences of which are present in this same chapter. Both
Mark and Paul suggest that they are aware of something
very unusual about Jesus’ birth. Again, while the united
evidence of NT manuscripts supports a plural reading in
John 1:13, with John referring to the regeneration of
believers, Tertullian—at the beginning of the third century—
claims that this resulted from the Valentinians’ tampering
with the text, which should instead be read as singular and
as a reference not to believers but to Jesus, who was born
“not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of
man, but of God.” Whatever one’s conclusions about the
original reading, the point is established that at this very
early stage it was strongly recognized that Jesus was born of
the virgin.36
Jesus’ humanity is real and genuine. The Gospels present
him as growing to adulthood in a normal way (Luke 2:40–
52). He experienced weariness and thirst, hunger and sleep
(John 4:4–7; 19:28; Matt. 4:1–2; 8:24). He had a circle of
friends: Peter, James, and John within the apostolic circle,
Mary, Martha, and Lazarus at Bethany. He was apparently a
convivial companion, creating vintage wine for a wedding
banquet when supplies ran out and enjoying food and
alcoholic beverages like everyone else in first-century Israel
(John 2:1–11; Matt. 11:19); this is hardly surprising, since
when young he had grown in favor with his contemporaries
(Luke 2:52). He took his family responsibilities seriously,
entrusting his mother to the care of the apostle John when
he was on the point of death (John 19:25–27). He knew
sorrow, disturbed by death and weeping with grief at the
grave of Lazarus (John 11:32–38). Earlier, his legal father,
Joseph, had died. The author of Hebrews stresses that Jesus
shared with us flesh and blood, faith, temptation, sufferings,
and death (Heb. 2:5–18), prayed to the Father in deep
anguish, and was tested in all points as we are (Heb. 4:14–
5:10). He was buried in a tomb (Matt. 27:57–66; Mark
15:43–47; Luke 23:50–56; John 19:38–42).
All this was “for us and our salvation,” as the Niceno-
Constantinopolitan creed puts it. God alone is the Savior,
and it is futile to rely on man (Ps. 146:1ff.). Yet God alone
could not save us! This startling reality is affirmed by
Heidelberg Catechism 16; since God is just, man’s sin
required atonement by man: “the same human nature
which has sinned should make satisfaction for sin.” Thus, in
the words of John Henry Newman in his hymn “Praise to the
Holiest in the Height”:
O loving wisdom of our God, when all was sin and shame,
A second Adam to the fight and to the rescue came.
O wisest love, that flesh and blood which did in Adam fail,
Should strive afresh against the foe, should strive and should prevail.
And that a higher gift than grace should flesh and blood refine,
God’s presence and his very self, and essence all divine.

The Eternal Son of God Unites to Himself a Human

Nature
The basis of our union with Christ is Christ’s union with us
in the incarnation. We can become one with him because he
first became one with us. By taking human nature into
personal union, the Son of God has joined himself to
humanity. He now has a human body and soul, which he will
never jettison.
In the prologue to his Gospel, John declares that the same
Word who is eternal, who was in the beginning, who was
with God, and who is God became flesh and lived among us
(John 1:1–4, 14–18). This becoming flesh was not a
transformation into something other than who he eternally
is. He remained unchanging. He was still the Word, and
remained so even as the disciples saw his glory. He added
humanity and lived and acted as man, yet he remained God.
The Word himself takes the initiative, comes into this world
and takes flesh into union.
This is Paul’s stress also in 2 Corinthians 5:19, when he
writes that “God was in Christ reconciling the world to
himself”; God is the active agent. God was in Christ. God in
Christ is the personal agent who reconciles the world.
Therefore, the human aspect was and is the humanity of the
Son of God. In Galatians 4:4, Paul records that God the
Father sent his Son at the appointed time. His humanity is
real. He underwent a real conception, gestation, and birth
—“born of woman.” Paul seems to recognize a certain
unusualness about the conception, for again, instead of his
normal verb for “generation,” gennan, he uses ginesthai.
Nevertheless, Jesus’ birth was entirely normal, with nothing
out of the ordinary. He “became of a woman.” Moreover, he
was placed under the law, as a Jew in the context of the
covenant relationship established by Yahweh with Israel. The
context of chapter 3 describes the covenantal state of Israel
as at that time in its minority. Jesus was born into that
situation, and his life was circumscribed by the Mosaic law
and all it required.
Other passages in Paul’s letters say the same thing from
differing angles. In Romans 8:3, Paul declares that because
of the law’s inability to change people’s lives, exacerbated
by their sinful nature, which led to its continual breach,
“God sent forth his Son in the likeness of sinful flesh and for
sin.” Paul certainly does not intend to say that Christ was
merely like us, his humanity less than full and real. The
“likeness” (homoiōma) indicates his appearance, viewed in
comparison to the “flesh of sin” of his contemporaries. He
was human, like his fellow human beings, who themselves
were sinners. In his case, he came in order to condemn “sin
in the flesh.” Again, it is the Son of the Father who identifies
himself with other humans to the fullest extent, sin apart. In
Philippians 2:6ff., Paul adds to this that Christ, being
(huparchōn: present participle, denoting continuance
throughout) in the form of God, added the form of a servant,
becoming obedient to the death of the cross. He continued
in the form of God, equal to God, but added the lowliness of
a servant, being found in the appearance of a man.
The Letter to the Hebrews reinforces this consistent
theme. After devoting the first chapter to establishing the
eternal deity of the Son, his supremacy over the prophets
and the angels, the author underlines his genuine humanity
in chapter 2. He shares with us flesh and blood, faith, the
experience of temptation, suffering, and ultimately death.
As with Paul, the subject of these circumstances is the same
as the One who created all things and upholds the universe;
it is the Son through whom God has spoken his final
culminating word of salvation (Heb. 2:5–18; cf. 1:1–14), who
prayed to the Father with loud cries and tears (4:14–5:10).
Excursus: The Development of Christological Thought
to the Second Council of Constantinople (A.D. 553)37
The Nestorian Crisis and the Council of
Ephesus (431)
In the early fifth century, a major crisis arose over the
identity of Jesus Christ. Since he was and is the eternal Son
of God, how does this relate to the fact—obvious from the
Gospels—that he is also human? Flowing from this, what
significance do these things have for our salvation? These
questions were thrust into the foreground in the year 428 by
Nestorius, the bishop of Constantinople.38 He began to
attack the term theotokos (“God-bearer”), a popular title for
Mary. Since he distinguished sharply between the deity of
Christ and his humanity,39 he held that Mary could strictly be
called only mother of the man Jesus. She could be termed
christotokos (“Christ-bearer”) with no qualms, since in this
there was no danger of confusing deity and humanity. Talk
of Mary as theotokos conjured up in his mind the specter of
Arianism. Arios, and his more influential successor
Eunomios, had reduced the Son’s deity to creaturehood.
Nestorius feared that use of theotokos would lead to a
blurring of the Creator-creature distinction. He wanted to
avoid any notion of a mixture of deity and humanity, and so
his aim was to preserve the integrity of the human nature.
He was also alert to the danger of Apollinarianism.
Apollinaris (c. 315–before 392), a strong supporter of the
Council of Nicaea, had wandered into heresy in his old age
by teaching that the Logos took the place of a human soul in
the incarnate Christ. The Word assumed flesh—a body—
only. He was condemned by the first Council of
Constantinople (381). The problem with Apollinaris’s
teaching, in Gregory Nazianzen’s words, was that “whatever
is not assumed cannot be healed.”40 If the Son did not
assume into union a full humanity, including a soul, there
was no incarnation. We could not then be saved, because
Christ would have been less than man, since a human being
minus a soul is not a human being. Nestorius’s concern was
—correctly—to affirm the full integrity of Christ’s human
nature. His problem was that while he had a firm grasp of
the distinctiveness of Christ’s divinity and humanity, he was
less sure of the unity of his person. So he spoke of a
“conjunction” of the divinity and humanity rather than a
“union,” a conjunction that resulted in a prosōpon of union,
a single object of appearance, which was identical with
neither of the two natures. The prosōpon of union, not the
Logos or Word, was the subject of the incarnate Christ.
Nestorius was vehemently opposed by Cyril of Alexandria,
who began from the premise of Christ’s unity.41 For Cyril,
Nestorius threatened not only the unity of Christ’s person
but also the incarnation itself, for his teaching effectively
denied that there was a real participation by the Son of God
in our humanity. The two natures—so it seemed—were more
like two pieces of board held together by glue. Cyril stressed
that salvation was a work of God, that the man Jesus could
not defeat sin and death by his human nature alone. To do
this, the eternal Logos assumed into union the human
nature of Christ.42
In his Second Letter to Nestorius, Cyril starts with the
unity of Christ’s person. The Word “united to himself . . .
flesh enlivened by a rational soul, and in this way became a
human being.” There is an “unspeakable and unutterable
convergence into unity, one Christ and one Son out of two.”
To reject this personal union is to fall into the error of
positing two sons. “We do not worship a human being in
conjunction with the Logos, lest the appearance of a division
creep in . . . No, we worship one and the same, because the
body of the Logos is not alien to him but accompanies him
even as he is enthroned with the Father.” The Word did not
unite himself to a human person but to flesh. The virgin
Mary is theotokos, since it is the Word that united himself to
this human body and soul.43 In short, Cyril Nestorius’s stress
on the integrity and distinctiveness of Christ’s humanity had
jeopardized his unity.
In his Third Letter to Nestorius, Cyril again stresses the
personal union of the Word with the flesh. All expressions in
the Gospels refer to the one incarnate person of the Word.
Mary is theotokos because she “gave birth after the flesh to
God who was united by hypostasis with flesh,” man
ensouled with a rational soul.44 Cyril adds twelve anathemas
to this letter. In these, he declares that “if anyone will not
confess that the Emmanuel is very God, and that therefore
the Holy Virgin is the Mother of God [theotokos], inasmuch
as in the flesh she bore the Word of God made flesh . . . ; let
him be anathema.” He insists, inter alia, that it is the Word
who suffered, was crucified, and died according to the
flesh.45 For Cyril, the Word who existed before the
incarnation is the same person after the incarnation, now
enfleshed. This union excludes division but does not
eliminate difference.
The council called to Ephesus to resolve the matter
expelled Nestorius from the episcopal office and the
priesthood.46 The council declared that Christ’s humanity,
wholly human, was appropriated by the Word as his own,
and so forms the basis for our own salvation.47
Eutyches and the Council of Chalcedon48
Before long a fresh crisis arose, generated by Eutyches
from Alexandria, whom Kelly calls an “aged and muddle-
headed archimandrite.”49 Eutyches is an extreme exponent
of Cyrilline Christology, without Cyril’s theological
sophistication. For Eutyches, before the incarnation Christ
was of two natures but after it he is one nature, one Christ,
one Son, in one hypostasis and one prosōpon. Christ’s flesh
was not identical with ordinary human flesh, since Eutyches
thought this would entail the Word’s assuming an individual
man, thus destroying the union. Behind this, he understood
nature to mean concrete existence—so Christ could not
have two natures or he would have two concrete existences
and so be divided.50 Thus, Eutyches had an overpowering
emphasis on the unity of Christ’s person, exactly the
opposite of Nestorius. Whereas Nestorius had sought to
uphold the distinctness of the two natures and so
threatened the unity of Christ, Eutyches so underlined
Christ’s unity that he blurred the distinctness of the two
natures, his humanity swamped by his deity, although to be
fair he did insist on the full and complete humanity. His
ideas raised problems similar to those of Apollinaris, for our
salvation depends on the reality of the incarnation, of a real
assumption of unabbreviated humanity by the Son of God. If
Christ were not truly and fully man, we could not be saved,
for only a second Adam could undo the damage caused by
the first.
Eventually Marcian, the emperor, called a council to be
held at Nicaea in 451, to which Pope Leo sent three
legates.51 But because of invasions by the Huns, the
emperor ordered the council to move to Chalcedon, across
the Bosphorus. The bishops reaffirmed Cyril’s Second Letter
to Nestorius and Leo’s Tome.52 A commission was appointed
to draw up a doctrinal statement. In composing the
Definition, the bishops drew on a variety of sources, Leo’s
Tome the single most decisive contributor, even though
there were more quotations from Cyril.53 The Definition
clearly distinguishes between one person and two natures:
Therefore, following the holy Fathers, we all with one accord teach
men to acknowledge one and the same Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, at
once complete in Godhead and complete in manhood, truly God and
truly man, consisting also of a reasonable soul and body; of one
substance with the Father as regards his Godhead, and at the same
time of one substance with us as regards his manhood; like us in all
respects, apart from sin; as regards his Godhead, begotten of the
Father before the ages, but yet as regards his manhood begotten, for
us and for our salvation, of Mary the Virgin, the God-bearer; one and
the same Christ, Son, Lord, Only-begotten, recognized in two natures,
without confusion, without change, without division, without
separation; the distinction of natures being in no way annulled by the
union, but rather the characteristics of each nature being preserved
and coming together to form one person and subsistence, not as
parted or separated into two persons, but one and the same Son and
only-begotten God, the Word, Lord Jesus Christ; even as the prophets
from earliest times spoke of him, and our Lord Jesus Christ himself
taught us, and the creed of the Fathers has handed down to us.54

That Christ subsists in two natures is a decisive rejection

of Eutyches. The Definition rejects any notion of the union
that might erode or threaten the differences of the natures.
At the same time, it also insists that Christ is not divided or
separated into two persons, as the Nestorian heresy
implied.
The anti-Nestorian stance is evident in a number of ways.
The repetition of the phrase “the same” and the
reaffirmation of the virgin Mary as theotokos are two
obvious points. Again, toward the end, the Definition denies
that Christ is parted or separated into two persons, but
rather asserts that the two natures “come together to form
one person and subsistence,” echoing Cyril’s Second Letter
to Nestorius. In all these it clearly affirms the unity of the
person of Christ. On the other hand, the Definition equally
repudiates the Eutychian heresy, which had occasioned the
council in the first place. Christ is “complete in manhood,”
so much so that he is “of one substance with us.” The
distinction of natures is in no way annulled by the union.
There are also clear restatements of opposition both to
Apollinarianism, in the point that Christ has “a reasonable
soul and body,” and also to Arianism, in that Christ is “of
one substance with the Father.”
Above all, the famous four privative adverbs together
form the central hinge of the Definition. The incarnate Christ
is “in two natures, without confusion, without change.” Here
is an explicit rejection of Eutyches. The union neither
changes Christ’s humanity into anything else nor absorbs it
into the divinity. The humanity remains fully humanity. On
the other side of the spectrum, the natures are “without
division, without separation.” By this it is declared
impermissible so to focus on either nature of Christ that the
personal union is undermined in the manner Nestorius had
done. These four adverbs outlaw both Nestorianism and
Eutychianism.
The council also anathematizes those who talk of two
natures of the Lord before the union but only one afterward.
This is directed at Eutyches, probably at the behest of Pope
Leo and the papal legates.55 It was to cause problems later
for the Monophysites (those who held to “one nature”), who
were accustomed to think of nature as synonymous with
what we would now call person and for whom Chalcedon
seemed an unwarranted capitulation to Nestorius. The
problem, however, was more a lack of knowledge of Greek
by the Latins, who had pressed this point. Taking phusis
(Greek) to mean natura (Latin), it seemed to Leo and his
legates that the Alexandrian mantra of one incarnate nature
(phusis) of the Logos was a heretical belief in only one
natura. It betrayed a failure to appreciate that at this time
the Greeks were using phusis and hypostasis
interchangeably. It was to be another century before
Emperor Justinian I brought about a clear distinction
between these two terms. In reality, the true objection in
this anathema is, as Sellers observes, to Eutyches’s false
interpretation of the formula, not to Cyril’s position, which
was not in view at the time.56
Assessment of Chalcedon
Chalcedon failed to do justice to some real concerns of the
Cyrillians. The point that “the distinction of natures being in
no way annulled by the union but rather the characteristics
of each nature being preserved and coming together” could
be taken to mean that human attributes must be predicated
only of the human nature, and the divine of the divine. This
sounded Nestorian to these people. It gave the impression
that Christ was some form of schizoid, for whom some
things could be related only to one part of him and other
things to another part. Their strong concern for the unity of
Christ seemed to have been given short shrift. It seemed as
though the idea that salvation begun by the union of the
human nature of Christ with the divine was under attack.
Chalcedon certainly allows the deity and humanity to be
seen as two, each in its “ownness.”57
Moreover, Chalcedon left the concept of the hypostatic
union unclear. For instance, it did not specify who exactly it
was who had suffered and been crucified. Nor did it say—a
vital theme for Cyril’s supporters—that the deification of
man began in the union of Christ’s humanity with his
divinity. The Monophysites later thought that Chalcedon was
soft on Nestorianism by asserting “two natures after the
union,” precisely because it made no mention of the
hypostatic union, refusing to include the confession “out of
two.” Chalcedon satisfied the West but not the East.58
Furthermore, two passages in Leo’s Tome, effectively
canonized by Chalcedon, were held by the Monophysites to
be indisputably Nestorian, where “Leo so separates, and
personalizes, what is divine and what is human in Christ
that the hypostatic union is dissolved.”59 Leo states that the
properties of both natures are kept intact so that “one and
the same mediator between God and human beings, the
human being who is Jesus Christ, can at one and the same
time die in virtue of the one nature and, in virtue of the
other, be incapable of death.”60 In the absence of mention of
the hypostatic union, followers of Cyril were loath to accept
Chalcedon. Moreover, they strongly held to the personal
identity of the incarnate Christ with the preexistent Son, and
this the council did not affirm,61 although the repeated
phrase “one and the same” must be borne in mind in
response to this claim.
Chalcedon was never intended to be the final definitive
verdict on Christology. As Sellers points out, “it allows
deductions to be made from its dogmatic decisions, and, in
effect, encourages enquiry into the mystery.”62 “It is
intended to explain just one definite question of the
church’s christology, indeed the most important one. It does
not lay claim to having said all that may be said about
Christ.” It was far from innovative, but rather was in line
with the preceding tradition. “Few councils have been so
rooted in tradition as the Council of Chalcedon. The dogma
of Chalcedon is ancient tradition in a formula corresponding
to the needs of the hour. So we cannot say that the
Chalcedonian Definition marks a great turning point in the
christological belief of the early church.”63 At the same time,
it left a good deal of unfinished business on the table.
The Monophysites and Constantinople II
(553)64
As a consequence of Ephesus and Chalcedon, sections of
the church went into a schism that still continues. This
breakup occurred over whether the Chalcedonian formula,
by its stress on the integrity of the two natures and the
appropriate attributions to be made to either one, actually
left the door open to a Nestorian interpretation that
undermined the unity of Christ’s person. Many thought this
was exactly what it did do. They were disconcerted that not
nearly enough emphasis was laid on Christ’s unity and on
his personal identity with the eternal, preexistent Logos.
These people, the Monophysites, took as their lodestar
Cyril’s phrase “the one incarnate nature of the Word made
flesh.”
The foundational point of disagreement between the
Monophysites and the Chalcedonians surrounded the unity
of Christ and the place accorded to his human nature. The
Monophysites insisted on the absolute unity of the person of
Christ and his continuity with the preincarnate Logos. The
Chalcedonians, on the other hand, were fearful of
minimizing the humanity of Christ and could never accept
that Christ’s manhood was merely a “state” of the Logos.
Leontius of Byzantium65
Leontius shared the Alexandrian stress on Christ’s unity,
but he was also concerned to preserve the true humanity.66
He came up with the idea of Christ’s humanity as
enhypostatos (existing in a hypostasis—roughly, “person”—
of another nature). Christ’s human nature subsists in the
hypostasis of the divine nature. Thus, the human nature in
Christ is both anhypostatos—having no existence of its own
independently67—and also enhypostatos—subsisting in a
hypostasis of another nature. The single hypostasis
(“person”) of Christ is the eternal Word in which are two
natures, divine and human. All operations of both natures
are attributed to the hypostasis (“person”) of the divine
Word.68 Grillmeier considers this the work of Leontius of
Jerusalem, further developed by Emperor Justinian. Both
Relton and Sellers take the older view that Leontius of
Byzantium propounded enhypostasia.69 For Leontius of
Byzantium, we have translated extracts from Three Books
against the Nestorians and Eutychians (his chief work).70
Leontius of Jerusalem71
The other Leontius, whose contribution to the debate
occurred between 532 and 536, was emphatic that the one
subject in Christ is clearly the hypostasis (“person”) of the
Logos. This was, of course, something to which Chalcedon
could not have aspired.72 Grillmeier comments that “there is
thus complete identity of the prosōpon, of the person, of the
subject before and after the incarnation. The pre-existent
hypostasis of the Logos himself is the subject of the
incarnation who assumes a human nature, which neither is
nor has its own prosōpon . . . Because the one hypostasis
has entered into this entitative relationship with the
prosōpon-less sarx, it can bear both series of ‘physical
names,’ that is, the predicates of both divine and human
natures.”73 He continues, “Thus it follows that the
acknowledgement of divinity and humanity in Christ as
enhypostata does not mean that they are idiohypostata,
that is, that each constitutes its own proper hypostasis. For
Leontius of Jerusalem, Christ is only one hypostasis in the
real two natures.”74 Indeed, he wrote that the Word
hypostatized human nature into his own hypostasis.75
Leontius of Jerusalem makes a real contribution insofar as
the concept of enhypostasis or insubsistence emerges
formally and is used to explain the unity of the subject in
Christ.76 Moreover, Meyendorff sums up by explaining
Leontius’s meaning as “a hypostasis that, instead of being
another isolated and individualized hypostasis among all the
hypostases that constitute the human nature, is the
hypostatic archetype of the whole of mankind, in whom
‘recapitulated’ mankind, and not merely an individual,
recovers union with God. This is possible only if Christ’s
manhood is not the human nature of a mere man but that of
a hypostasis independent of the limitations of created
nature.”77 In this, Leontius was providing the foundations for
a coherent doctrine of union with Christ and deification. The
assumed humanity, deified in and by the Word, becomes
the source of divine life, since it is the Word’s own flesh.
Because Christ’s humanity has divine life hypostatically, we
can—in union with Christ—receive divine life by grace and
participation.78 This is a crucial point and one that we will
face when we consider Calvin’s contribution to union with
Christ, particularly as it is focused in the Lord’s Supper.
Since Christ’s human nature is the human nature of the
eternal Son of God, it is suffused by the divine qualities of
the Son, while remaining human.79 The East claims that the
flesh or humanity of Christ was deified by participation in
the Son of God. The biblical evidence for this, among other
places, is evident in the word of the angel in Luke 1:34–35
that the Holy Spirit, in overshadowing Mary and bringing
about the new creation in the conception of Jesus, would
also effect the result that he would be called “the holy Son
of God.”
Justinian I
The third contributor to the resolution of the post-
Chalcedon Christological problem was the Emperor Justinian
I (483–565, emperor from 527). In many ways, he is the
principal architect of the conclusion of the crisis at
Constantinople II. His interest in theology propelled him onto
the stage as a force to be reckoned with theologically as
well as politically. He was no mere dilettante. He was a man
“orthodox and deeply pious with a taste for theological
discussion.” He intervened forcefully in ecclesiastical
matters more than any emperor before. He recognized that
the formula of the Scythian monks “one of the trinity
suffered for us” (designed to smoke out any with Nestorian
sympathies) was true to Chalcedon and at the same time
likely to win over Cyril’s supporters among the
Monophysites. Moreover, the pope approved it, effectively
providing the backing of the Western church.80
Between 532 and 536, Leontius of Jerusalem insisted on
identifying the hypostasis of union in the incarnate Christ
with the preexistent hypostasis of the Word. Christ’s
manhood had no preexistence, for “the hypostasis of Christ
is the Divine Logos, One of the Holy Trinity.”81 Jesus is the
second person of the Trinity, incarnate.82 Thus hypostasis
(“person”), not nature, is the foundation of being, entailing a
personal foundation of reality and that God is primarily
love.83 It also means that the single hypostasis in Christ was
the hypostasis of both the divine and human natures.
Christ’s humanity had no separate hypostasis of its own, so
as a consequence Christ unites all mankind—not merely a
single human being—to the divinity.
Justinian thereby established the distinction between
hypostasis and nature. This clarified Chalcedon (the union of
two natures in one hypostasis) by identifying the hypostasis
of Christ as the preexistent hypostasis of the divine Word.84
In short, the person of Jesus Christ is the eternal Son of God,
now incarnate.
The Edict of Justinian: “The Edict on the True
Faith” (551)
In this edict, Justinian explained his own view. It also
presents the reasoning behind the fifth ecumenical council’s
decisions. The emperor set forth the orthodox doctrine,
stating that “we confess that our Lord Jesus Christ is one
and the same Divine Logos of God who was incarnate and
became man.”85 In this he affirms the central point of the
Cyrilline Christology and its development along the lines of
the two Leontii. He enlarges on this by saying that “the
hypostatic union means that the Divine Logos, that is to say
one hypostasis of the three divine hypostases, is not united
to a man who has his own hypostasis before [the union], but
that in the womb of the Holy Virgin the Divine Logos made
for himself, in his own hypostasis, flesh that was taken from
her and that was endowed with a reasonable and
intellectual soul, i.e., human nature.”86
Justinian argues that Cyril maintained the integrity of the
two natures but that he used nature as a synonym for
hypostasis (“person”). Instead, the emperor clearly
distinguishes between the two terms. We cannot talk of
Christ’s having one nature and one hypostasis, but “we
speak of one hypostasis and of a union of two natures,”
since the Logos of God was united to human nature and not
to a particular hypostasis. So the one hypostasis of the
Logos was incarnate and is recognized in both natures.87
Thus, “we never refer to the human nature of Christ by
itself, nor did it ever possess its own hypostasis or
prosōpon, but it began to exist in the hypostasis of the
Logos.”88 On the other hand, those who forbid talk of two
natures after the union—such as Apollinaris and Eutyches—
confuse the issue.89
Synthesis is the key to Justinian’s Christology, union
according to the hypostasis.90 He says the divine hypostasis
created this spiritually ensouled human nature for himself
so as to be hypostasis for it and to exist humanly in it as
divine hypostasis. In contrast to Chalcedon, which used
hypostasis to refer to the outcome of the two natures
coming together into one Christ, Justinian used it of the
preexistent Logos. The assumed human nature thus
participates in a hypostasis only by existing in the
hypostasis of the Logos, by virtue of a creative act of the
Logos himself.91 Grillmeier remarks that Justinian had “a
commendable understanding of the problems of
incarnational theology” and that “in Justinian we find for the
first time the sketch of a complete interpretation of Christ’s
person and its union of divine and human nature in the one
divine hypostasis of the Logos.”92 While he bases his edict on
Chalcedon, he has a stronger grasp of the union, resulting
from the presence of Cyrilline elements and the model
provided by Leontius of Jerusalem.
Justinian shared with the Monophysites the principle that
Jesus Christ is the divine Logos. The main problem was that
the Monophysites used nature as a synonym for hypostasis
when talking of the particular but used nature as a synonym
for essence (being) when talking of the universal. Justinian’s
achievement was to distinguish nature and hypostasis
according to the Trinitarian distinction of the Cappadocians.
Hypostasis refers to the one Logos, who becomes man, and
nature to the mystery that he became fully man.93
The Second Council of Constantinople (553)
Justinian called the council, explaining its purpose in a
letter read at its first session as “to unite the churches
again, and to bring the Synod of Chalcedon, together with
the three earlier, to universal acceptance.”94 A series of
anathemas stressed the unity of Christ, and another series
defended the distinction (but not separation or division) of
the natures.95
Canon II ascribes two births to the God-Logos, the one
from eternity from the Father, without time and without
body, and the other his being made flesh of the holy and
glorious Mary, Mother of God. The next three canons are all
strongly anti-Nestorian. Canon III says that the God-Logos
who works miracles and the Christ who suffered should not
be separated, for it is one and the same Jesus Christ our
Lord, the Word, who became flesh and a human being.96
Behind this is the fact that Christ’s unity is a true union, not
a mingling or division. Canon V asserts that there is only
one subsistence or person. The incarnation is to be seen
solely from the hypostasis of the Son, who is one of the
Trinity. Thus “one of the trinity has been made man.” Canon
VIII, on the other hand, guards against Monophysitism,
pronouncing that both natures remain what they were: “For
in teaching that the only-begotten Word was united
hypostatically [to humanity] we do not mean to say that
there was made a mutual confusion of natures, but rather
each [nature] remaining what it was, we understand that
the Word was united to flesh.”97 Canon IX declares that the
worshiping of Christ in two natures is in fact one act of
worship directed to the incarnate God-Logos with his flesh.98
Grillmeier concludes that Constantinople II is “not a
weakening of Chalcedonian terminology, but its logical
clarification . . . Nevertheless the use and application of the
main concepts were clearer and more unambiguous than at
Chalcedon.”99
Summary of the Christological Crisis
In summary, the church’s mature reflection, tempered by
long years of conflict and sometimes misunderstanding, was
that in the incarnation the Son took into personal union a
human nature that from the moment of conception was his
own. That humanity has no independent existence by itself;
it was and always is the humanity of the Son of God.
Therefore, we cannot divide the person of Christ.
On the other hand, his humanity remains humanity and
must not be confused with his deity even while it exists
solely as the humanity of God the Son. Underlying all this is
both the Creator-creature distinction, which is inviolate, and
also the compatibility of God and man, both features we
saw to exist in the creation of man.
Moreover, by being solely the humanity of the eternal Son
of God, Christ’s flesh and soul is permeated with the
glorious qualities of the Son, accommodated to human
compass. This is what the Eastern church has called
deification. Christ’s human nature was deified by its
assumption by the Son of God. It is obvious that this in no
way was ever held to jeopardize its integrity as human
nature. The compatibility of man as created with God
underlies this idea.
In Terms of the History of Redemption: The Central
Covenant Promise Is Fulfilled in Christ
We now turn to the history of redemption to see how
God’s covenantal promises focus in the incarnate Christ. In
this way Christ’s union with us in the incarnation serves as
the foundation for all that follows in salvation and, more
than that, is at the heart of what salvation involves.
The central promise of God’s covenants is the repeated
statement in each covenantal administration, “I will be your
God; you shall be my people.” It is seen in Genesis 17:7–8 in
the Abrahamic covenant, in Jeremiah 11:4 in connection
with the Mosaic covenant, in Jeremiah 24:7 with the return
from Babylonian exile in view, and in Jeremiah 30:22; 31:33;
and 32:38 pointing forward to the new covenant. It features
also in Revelation 21:3 in the vision of the glorious bride of
Christ. This is the heart of all of God’s covenants, the
promise of God and his people at one in covenant
fellowship.
All these promises come to a head in Jesus Christ, who
fulfills all of God’s covenants. God is our God in Jesus Christ.
This is abundantly clear in the Gospels, particularly in John.
There Jesus Christ is portrayed as the Son of God, Creator
and Judge of the world, distinct from the Father but equal to
him, of one being with him, and preexisting the creation of
the universe. Since Christ is one with God from eternity, he
is the definitive and final revelation of God (Heb. 1:1–4). All
of God’s covenant promises come to fulfillment and fruition
in Jesus Christ.
This reminds us of a moving incident reported by Thomas
F. Torrance during his service as an army chaplain in Italy
during the Second World War. One day, in the heat of battle,
Torrance came across a soldier on the point of death.
As I knelt down and bent over him, he said: “Padre, is God really like
Jesus?” I assured him that he was—the only God that there is, the God
who had come to us in Jesus, shown his face to us, and poured out his
love to us as our Saviour. As I prayed and commended him to the Lord
Jesus, he passed away.100

God is exactly like Jesus, since Jesus is identical with God.

Furthermore, not only is God our God in Christ, but in
Christ we are God’s people—He is the One who perfectly
replies as man to God in faith and obedience. We cannot be
God’s people in ourselves, since we are by nature sinners
and deserving of God’s wrath. Thus, our election before the
foundation of the world is in Christ, and so our whole
salvation is in Christ, too. It is here that Christ’s work as our
Great High Priest fits into the picture. In becoming man, he
took our place and bore our sins in his body on the tree,
rising for our justification and ascending in our flesh to the
right hand of the Father. Thus, all of God’s historical
covenants are centered in Christ and fulfilled by him.101
Moreover, they are centered in union with Christ—it is in
union with him that he is our God and we are his people.
Indeed, the Christian faith can be summed up as, inter
alia, a series of unions. There is the union of the three
persons in the Trinity, the union of the Son of God with our
human nature, the union of Christ with his church, the union
established by the Holy Spirit with us as he indwells us.
Each of these unions preserves the integrity of the
constituent elements or members, being at once a real
union and simultaneously not absorbing the one into the
other. In his Hexaemeron, Robert Grosseteste, bishop of
Lincoln from 1230, wrote that at the heart of the Christian
faith
there seem to be grouped together the following unities or unions:
the union by which the incarnate Word is the one Christ, one Christ in
his person, God and man; the union by which Christ is one in nature
with the church through the human nature he took on; and the union
by which the church is reunited with him by a condign taking up, in
the sacrament of the Eucharist . . . These three unions seem to be
grouped together in the One which is called the whole Christ. Of this
One the apostle says, to the Ephesians [sic]: “For you are all one in
Christ Jesus,” or, as the Greek text has it: “You are all one person in
Christ Jesus.” That One of which it says: “That they also may be one
in us” seems moreover, to add to the foregoing considerations that
the Son, as Word, is one in substance with the Father, and hence with
the Holy Spirit . . . It adds also the unity of our conformity in the
highest kind with the Blessed Trinity, through our reason. To this
conformity and Deiformity we are led by the mediator, Christ, God
and man, with whom we form one Christ.
 Grosseteste goes on to say that “there is an orderly
descent, through the unity of the Trinity and through the
incarnate Word, through his body which is the church, to our
being one, in a deiform way [or ‘one in God-form with the
Trinity,’ as another possible reading goes].”102 Grosseteste
has put his finger on the pulse of the Christian faith. These
unions are the very heartbeat of what God is and all that he
has done for us.
Christ Perpetually Has a Human Nature, Body, and
Soul
At this present time, Jesus, the Son of God, has ascended
to the right hand of the Father and makes perpetual
intercession for us. The WLC describes this intercession as
his presence before God in our nature. Whether or not he
actually prays for us (cf. Luke 22:31–32), any idea of his
pleading with an unwilling Father is entirely false; not only
are he and the Father one in being, but it is the Father’s love
that is the source of salvation. Christ’s intercession is hardly
distinguishable from benediction, the actual bestowal of the
blessings of salvation, which is his characteristic ministry
between the ascension and his return (Luke 24:50–51).103 It
is as the Lamb who has been slain that he appears in the
book of Revelation, a perpetual reminder of his humanity,
his offering for us on the cross, and his resurrection that
followed.
Christ will never divest himself of his assumed humanity,
or else we could not be saved. The incarnation is not for the
years of time alone but for eternity (WSC 21; WLC 36). This
is so because as our Savior he is also the head of his church
and will continue to be so without end. Moreover, as the
Mediator of creation, he has assumed the full authority
given to man in creation, lost and misused by Adam but now
fulfilled in his ministry as the second Adam. The Letter to
the Hebrews reflects on the poetic description of creation
and the task God gave to Adam, in Psalm 8, and sees it
realized in the risen and ascended Christ, something that is
not conceived as having a terminus. We reflected on that
concept in the previous chapter.104
It is here that Calvin lapses. In his commentary on 1
Corinthians 15:27, he betrays an almost Nestorian division
of the person of Christ and suggests that the assumed
humanity may be discarded:
But Christ will then hand back the Kingdom which he has received, so
that we may cleave completely to God. This does not mean that he
will abdicate from the Kingdom in this way, but will transfer it in some
way or other [quodammodo] from his humanity to his glorious
divinity, because then there will open up for us a way of approach,
from which we are now kept back by our weakness. In this way,
therefore, Christ will be subjected to the Father, because, when the
veil has been removed, we will see God plainly, reigning in his
majesty, and the humanity of Christ will no longer be in between us to
hold us back from a nearer vision of God.105

This seems to be connected with what Calvin says in the

Institutes:
Until he comes forth as judge of the world Christ will therefore reign,
joining us to the Father as the measure of our weakness permits. But
when as partakers in heavenly glory we shall see God as he is, Christ,
having then discharged the office of mediator, will cease to be the
ambassador of his Father, and will be satisfied with that glory which
he enjoyed before the creation of the world.106

In the context, Calvin stresses the unity of Christ’s person

and opposes the Nestorian heresy, so we can only conclude
that his comments here are unfortunately clumsy. Instead of
seeing Christ’s mediatorial kingdom as under the rule of his
person, it seems that Calvin has placed it under his human
nature. Since Christ’s humanity has no existence of its own,
this statement has a worryingly Nestorian ring to it.
Moreover, Calvin considers that Christ’s humanity prevents
us from having close union with God; the whole force of
Scripture suggests that it is the means by which we know
God. Third comes a comment that suggests that Christ’s
humanity will at least fade from view so as to enable us to
draw close to the Father. Beyond this is the hint that Christ
will be subordinated to the Father, subjected in such a way
that he will no longer hinder us or “hold us back from a
nearer vision of God.”
Summary
Christ has completely identified himself with us. He is one
with us. He everlastingly took our nature into personal
union. He is at the Father’s right hand in our flesh. In the
words of Bishop Christopher Wordworth’s hymn “See, the
Conqueror Mounts in Triumph”:
You have raised our human nature, in the clouds to God’s right hand;
There we sit, in heavenly places, there with you in glory stand;
Jesus reigns, adored by angels, man with God is on the throne;
Mighty Lord, in your ascension we by faith behold our own.

The incarnation is the indispensable basis for union with

Christ. Since Christ has united himself to us in the
incarnation, we can be united to him by the Holy Spirit.
In itself, the incarnation of the Son of God does not unite
us to him, for by itself it does not accomplish salvation.
Christ united to himself a human nature, not the nature of
the elect—as though the elect had a humanity different from
the rest of the human race. Christ’s becoming man was to
the end that he make complete and effective atonement for
our sins on the cross, defeat death by his resurrection, and
ascend in our nature to the right hand of God. There is no
incarnation without atonement.
On the other hand, there can be no atonement without
incarnation. It was necessary, according to the just nature of
God and on the basis of his eternal decree, that the
expiatory and propitiatory death of the Son of God should
occur to put away sin once for all. He needed to do this as
man, for man had sinned in the first place. It was in our
nature that he offered himself to the Father on the cross,
and in our nature that he ascended far above all things
created, and in our nature that he lives and reigns forever—
in indissoluble personal union. Therefore, the incarnation is
more than the basis for this union, as though the union were
something else, separable and inherently disconnected. The
complete identification of the eternal Son with our flesh and
blood is part of our union with him.
Christ’s union with us in the incarnation is the foundation
for our union with him, both now and in the eternal future. It
is a pledge of our sonship, as Calvin wrote, for “our common
nature with Christ is the pledge of our fellowship with the
Son of God; and clothed with our flesh he vanquished death
and sin together that the victory and triumph might be ours.
He offered as a sacrifice the flesh he received from us, that
he might wipe out our guilt by his act of expiation and
appease the Father’s righteous wrath.”107 While it is, as
Calvin recognized, a weak union in the sense that it is not
by itself redemptive,108 it is central to redemption, not
merely as its sine qua non but also because our redemption
takes place in Christ, as we will consider in the following
chapters.
So the incarnation should not be seen as merely a means
to salvation. Rather, salvation finds its ultimate fulfillment in
the union of humanity with God seen in the incarnate Christ.
If, from one angle, the incarnation was the means to
atonement and all that followed it, from another (more
lasting) perspective, the atonement was the means to the
elevation and fruition of humanity in the renewed cosmos
over which Christ rules, and we in him.109
Yet something more was needed. By this we do not mean
something alien to the incarnation as a separable event, an
action or a reality disconnected with the Son’s assumption
of humanity. What we mean is certainly something distinct
from the incarnation; it is not the same thing repeated in a
different context. But it is inseparable from it, part of the
great movement of the grace of the Holy Trinity for us and
our salvation. The Son became incarnate, sent by the
Father, conceived by the Holy Spirit. This second movement
of God’s grace consists of the coming of the Holy Spirit at
Pentecost, who—proceeding from the Father—is sent by the
Son upon his ascension to the Father’s right hand.
Tony Lane presents a vivid analogy: electricity lines may
go past a house, but to benefit from the electricity supply,
the house must be connected to the lines.110 Many Amish
houses in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania do not have
electricity, for the strict Amish refuse to introduce it into
their homes. Since electricity is carried overhead in that part
of the world, as one travels past their houses one can see
that they are not connected to the grid and so cannot
benefit from the heat and light that it generates. To be
united to Christ, we need to be connected to Christ by the
Holy Spirit through faith.
First, we must understand that as long as Christ remains outside of
us, and we are separated from him, all that he has suffered and done
for the salvation of the human race remains useless and of no value
for us.111

There are two linked realities here. Without the electricity

surging through the grid, the house could have no benefit,
even if the wires were connected. If Christ were not
incarnate and had not, in our flesh, rendered satisfaction to
God’s justice on the cross, there would be nothing to deliver
us from sin and the just and holy wrath of God. It is in
addition to this that the linkage to the grid is possible.
Following the sentence cited above, Calvin states:
Therefore, to share with us what he has received from the Father, he
had to become ours and to dwell within us. For this reason, he is
called “our Head” [Eph. 4:15], and “the first-born among many
brethren” [Rom. 8:29]. We also, in turn, are said to be “engrafted into
him” [Rom. 11:17], and “to put on Christ” [Gal. 3:27]; for, as I have
said, all that he possesses is nothing to us until we grow into one
body with him. It is true that we obtain this by faith. Yet since we see
that not all indiscriminately embrace that communion with Christ
which is offered in the gospel, reason itself teaches us to climb higher
and to examine into the secret energy of the Spirit, by which we come
to enjoy Christ and all his benefits.112
 Both the incarnate Son and the Holy Spirit together,
distinctly but indivisibly, bring about our union with Christ. It
is the work of the Holy Spirit in uniting us to Christ that we
will consider in the next chapter.

THREE

Pentecost

Herman Bavinck points us in the direction we are heading

when he writes, “After creation and the incarnation, the
outpouring of the Holy Spirit is the third great work of
God.”113 The Holy Spirit, who proceeds from the Father and is
sent by the Son, is the eternal God, but to a great extent is
anonymous as far as we are concerned. This is so because
we are material beings and the Spirit is quintessentially of a
medium alien to our own familiar bodily territory in a way
that the Son, since his incarnation, is not.
The Promise of the Holy Spirit
Integral to the promise of the new covenant was the
expectation that Yahweh would pour out his Spirit upon all
people. This was clearly foretold by Joel:
And it shall come to pass afterward, that I will pour out my Spirit on
all flesh. (Joel 2:28)

In this way the promise of the new covenant would be

fulfilled in which Yahweh declared that he would put his laws
not on external tablets but in the hearts of his people (Jer.
31:33). Ezekiel foretells that Yahweh would give his people a
heart of flesh instead of a heart of stone:
And I will put my Spirit within you, and cause you to walk in my
statutes and be careful to obey my rules. (Ezek. 36:27)

The context in which Ezekiel found himself, in exile, was

the unbelief and idolatry of Israel that had led Yahweh to
impose the sanctions of the Mosaic covenant and to throw
the people out of the land. Entailed in this promise is that
God’s people would believe and obey his word in the future.
The Abrahamic covenant had from the start a universal
reach—Abraham was told that in his offspring all the nations
of the earth would be blessed (Gen. 12:1–3). In the NT this
comes to fruition in the work of the Holy Spirit: first in the
life and ministry of the incarnate Son and then in the
sending of the Spirit at Pentecost. The result is that the
church has “every spiritual blessing in Christ” (Eph. 1:3).
The Holy Spirit in the Life and Ministry of Jesus
Luke highlights the Holy Spirit’s activity in the conception
and life of Jesus. Boris Bobrinskoy comments about “an
exceptional convergence between the outpouring of the
Spirit and the birth of Christ.”114 The child is conceived by the
Spirit in a manner analogous to his brooding over the waters
of creation (Luke 1:34–35; cf. Gen. 1:2); a new creation is
brought into being. As God’s sovereign power was active in
creation, so in salvation a new work of might and irresistible
creative force is unleashed by the Holy Spirit. The Spirit is
“the One in whom and through whom the Word of God
breaks into history.”115 Here is a dramatic lesson that human
power cannot save. Thereafter in Luke, every stage of Jesus’
infancy and entrance into public ministry is seen in the light
of the presence, direction, and empowerment of the Holy
Spirit. When Mary visits her cousin, Elizabeth is filled with
the Holy Spirit and her baby leaps for joy in her womb (Luke
1:41–44). Elizabeth’s husband, Zechariah, is filled with the
Holy Spirit when he prophesies concerning his son, John the
Baptist (1:67ff.). After the birth of Jesus, when his parents
take him to the temple for the ritual of purification, Simeon
receives them, and the Holy Spirit was upon him. Simeon
had been informed in advance by the Spirit that he would
see the Christ in person, and on that day, he entered the
temple “in the Spirit” (2:25–28).
 Later, at the outset of Jesus’ public ministry, the Holy
Spirit pervades all that happens. John the Baptist’s ministry
includes, inter alia, announcing that the One who was to
come would baptize “with the Holy Spirit and with fire”
(Luke 3:16). At Jesus’ baptism the Spirit descends on him in
the form of a dove (Luke 3:22 and parallels; John 1:32–33).
Bobrinskoy calls this “a revelation of the eternal movement
of the Spirit of the Father who remains in the Son from all
eternity,” the Savior’s entire life being defined “in a
constant, existential relation with the Father in the Spirit.”116
It manifests the eternal resting of the Spirit on the Son.117
Jesus returns from the Jordan “full of the Holy Spirit,” and in
turn he is led by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted
by the devil (Luke 4:1). After this great ordeal, which
nevertheless was under the direction of the Spirit of God,
Jesus returns to the public sphere, to Galilee, “in the power
of the Spirit” (4:14). There in the synagogue he reads from
the prophet Isaiah, where he refers to the Spirit of the Lord
resting on the Messiah for his work (4:17ff.), declaring that
this is now fulfilled in himself. And so on and so forth—in all
this Luke informs his readers that Jesus was governed and
directed by the Holy Spirit in all that he did. His ministry as
the Christ, the Anointed One, was empowered by the Spirit.
Behind that, Jesus from his earliest days was in all his
human development (cf. 2:40–52) under the immediate
leading of the Spirit.
As Bavinck puts it:
At this point it is important to note that this activity of the Holy Spirit
with respect to Christ’s human nature absolutely does not stand by
itself. Though it began with the conception, it did not stop there. It
continued throughout his entire life, even right into the state of
exaltation. Generally speaking, the necessity of this activity can be
inferred already from the fact that the Holy Spirit is the author of all
creaturely life and specifically of the religious-ethical life in humans.
The true human who bears God’s image is inconceivable even for a
moment without the indwelling of the Holy Spirit.118
The Holy Spirit Comes at Pentecost to Indwell
Countless Human Persons, Uniting Them to Christ
A central theme in the Upper Room Discourse, recorded in
John 14–17, is the sending of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost.
Jesus was to depart. But he would not leave his disciples
alone as orphans. He would come to them in the person of
the paraklētos. His sending was to follow Jesus’ resurrection
and ascension. This is clear in Jesus’ own pronouncement in
John 7:37–39 and John’s explanatory comment; the Spirit
was not yet given, since Jesus had not yet been glorified. It
is why Jesus’ remarks in the upper room are all couched in
the future tense.
The Holy Spirit was sent by Jesus after his glorification.
This is the message Peter conveyed on the day of Pentecost
in explaining the amazing phenomena that happened that
day:
This Jesus God raised up, and of that we are all witnesses. Being
therefore exalted at the right hand of God, and having received from
the Father the promise of the Holy Spirit, he has poured out this that
you yourselves are seeing and hearing. (Acts 2:32–33 ESV)

In the upper room, Jesus explained the ministry of the

Spirit. He would lead the apostles into all truth, those things
that Jesus himself had not taught at that time because they
were unable to understand and appreciate them (John
16:12–15). He would principally testify about Christ, not
drawing attention to himself (vv. 13–14). He was to convince
the world of sin, righteousness, and judgment (vv. 8–11).
Above all, the Spirit would come to indwell believers and
unite them to Christ (John 14:16–23). Jesus had already
taught his disciples of his own identity, while distinct, with
the Father. He and God are coordinate objects of faith
(14:1). Whoever has seen him has seen the Father (vv. 8–
10). This is because he and the Father indwell each other.
Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me?
The words that I say to you I do not speak on my own authority, but
 the Father who dwells in me does his works. Believe me that I am in
the Father and the Father is in me. (John 14:10–11 ESV)

This is a reference to what in Trinitarian theology is

termed the perichorēsis, the mutual indwelling of the three
Trinitarian persons. In the words of Gerald Bray, the persons
occupy the same infinite divine space.119 The Father and the
Son are both fully God. All that can be said to be God is
possessed by both. Yet they are distinct. The Father and the
Son—and, by extension, the Spirit—are in each other in
indissoluble union. This union does not infringe the
distinctness of either.
Jesus goes on to say that when the Spirit comes, he will
indwell his disciples. Moreover, they will then know for
themselves that he and the Father are in each other. On top
of this, they will also know that Christ is in them,
presumably by the Holy Spirit.
“In that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you
in me, and I in you” (v. 20). There is a pattern here, an
analogy, between the indwelling of the Father and the Son
on the one hand and the indwelling of Christ and his
disciples on the other. There is an obvious difference; the
Father and the Son are one in being, eternal, immense,
while Christ and his multitudinous disciples are
distinguishably separate. The context points to the Holy
Spirit as the agent of the indwelling. He indwells countless
people, who remain individuals although relational
individuals, individuals in communion, in union with God the
Spirit, indwelt by him.
Further on, Jesus enlarges on what he has just said. In
verse 23, having affirmed that the one who loves him will be
loved by him and his Father, Jesus adds:
If anyone loves me, he will keep my word, and my Father will love
him, and we will come to him and make our home with him. (ESV)

Here both the Father and the Son will come to the one
who loves Jesus. Once again, the context points to the
activity of the promised Holy Spirit. In the coming of the
Spirit to indwell, the Father and the Son are also indivisibly
present. The loving disciple will have intimate communion
and union with the whole Trinity, in the person of the Holy
Spirit. Behind this lies the fact that all three persons operate
together indivisibly in all the works of God, yet each work is
specifically attributable to one of them. Thus the Son died
on the cross, while offering himself to the Father by the
eternal Spirit (Heb. 9:14). So here, the Holy Spirit—neither
the Father nor the Son—was sent at Pentecost, yet he was
sent by the Father in or through the Son. Consequently, in
the indwelling of the Spirit, the Father and the Son are also
inseparably involved.120 This is no merely ephemeral thing.
The Spirit is not a temporary visitor. Jesus insists that he and
the Father will make their permanent residence with this
one. Monē denotes a permanent dwelling, in contrast to a
short-term expedient such as a tent. This great event
occurred on the day of Pentecost, recorded by Luke in Acts
2, but the result is permanent.
Paul reflects on themes such as these in 1 Corinthians
12:12–13, where he addresses questions arising from the
Spirit’s ministry in the church there:
For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the
members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ.
For in one Spirit we were all baptized into one body—Jews or Greeks,
slaves or free—and all were made to drink of one Spirit. (ESV)

In the background here are the sacraments of baptism

and the Eucharist. The Holy Spirit baptizes all believers into
one body. The image is of saturation by the Spirit. As a
result, we are added to, and united with, the body, in the
pervasive medium of the Spirit himself. As the baptismal
water covers and saturates, so the Holy Spirit permeates.121
The oneness of the body is the direct outflow of the
enveloping pervasion of the Spirit. Moreover, there is a
reciprocal and responsive action on our part, which in turn
depends on the grace of God—we were all given to drink of
the one Spirit. This is redolent of the drinking of Christ’s
blood in the Lord’s Supper, imbibed not corporeally or
materially but in the Holy Spirit. Again, as surely as we
drink, so the Spirit enters us and saturates us on an ongoing
basis, for he has come, with the Father and the Son, to take
up permanent residence within us.
In Galatians 4:4–6, Paul writes of the movement of God to
man in the incarnation, in which God sent his Son “when the
time had fully come” (v. 4), in order to redeem us and to
grant us sonship (exapesteilen ho theos ton huion autou . . .
hina tēn hiuothesian apolabōmen). This is mirrored by his
movement to man at Pentecost. Since we are now sons, God
has sent the Spirit of his Son “into our hearts” at Pentecost
(exapesteilen ho theos to pneuma tou huiou autou eis tas
kardias hēmōn) (v. 6). Here the Spirit is described as the
Spirit of the Son, reminiscent of the unity of the risen Christ
and the Holy Spirit to which Paul refers in 2 Corinthians
3:16–17, in calling the Spirit “the Spirit of the Lord.” Since
the Spirit of the Father’s Son indwells us, it follows that he
assures us that we are the children of God (1 John 3:24).
Entailed in this is the gift of faith by which we are united
to Christ. Paul and John both record that saving faith is the
gift of God and that we would be incapable of it without the
Holy Spirit’s drawing us to Christ. Paul insists that fallen
man is “dead in trespasses and sins” (Eph. 2:1) and so
unable to effect a change to his dire condition. Jesus taught
the disciples that no one can come to him unless the Father
draws him; faith is a gift of God (John 6:44–45, 64–65). This,
as Calvin put it, is the principal work of the Holy Spirit.122
Rowland Stedman wrote that the way in which Christ and
his people are united is that “the Lord Christ, by his Spirit,
taketh possession of them, and dwelleth in them; and
Believers through faith of the operation of the Spirit, take
hold of Christ, and get into him; and so they are knit
together and become one.” The Lord Jesus “cometh and
taketh up residence in them; and they are inabled to go
forth unto Christ, and receive him as he is offered in the
Gospel; whereby they are in him: and thus this Union is
established.”123 According to Stedman, there are “two great
bonds or ligaments” of this union. On Christ’s part, he
dwells in believers by his Spirit. On their part, they
apprehend Christ by faith and “take him home, as it were,
unto themselves.”124 The first is what Stedman calls a natural
bond, while the second he terms a legal bond. The natural
bond is the same as the positive element of regeneration. It
is total, Christ taking possession of the whole person. It is
beyond human power to effect this, although we are
required to attend the means of grace for it to happen.125 By
this “our natures are fashioned according to his nature,”
since there is “a suitableness” between Christ’s human
nature and that of a person being sanctified.126 We will
explore the ramifications of this in the next two chapters. In
legal terms, the union is akin to that of a debtor and a
surety, for “the law reckoneth them as one.” The payment
made by the surety is accounted as if the debtor had paid it
himself because of the oneness that exists between them in
the eyes of the law.127 We will discuss this aspect in detail in
chapter 4. Stedman further points to what he calls a moral
union, of which love is the bond, as in the case of intimate
friends. In this sense, “so are the Lord Jesus and his peculiar
people knit together.” He dwells in them and they, in turn,
hunger and thirst after further enjoyment of him.128 There
may be a hint here of the emergence of the dangers of a
separation between the imputational and transformative to
which Evans points.129
Christ Sharing Our Nature, We by Grace Are United to
Him, according to His Humanity
We have argued in this chapter that the Holy Spirit is the
One who brings about our union with Christ in our life
history. He does this by grace through faith. Our faith and all
that flows from it in the Christian life is due to the Holy
Spirit, who renews us in the image of God—which is Christ—
and transforms us continually into Christ (2 Cor. 3:18).
Eventually, when Christ returns in glory, we will be like him
(1 John 3:1–2). This entire amazing process occurs through
faith, which is the way we receive Christ. Therefore, we
come empty, with nothing to offer. Saving faith, as WCF
14.2 describes it, is principally “receiving, and resting upon
Christ alone for salvation.” As Lane remarks, in connection
with Calvin and the Reformers, “faith is effective not in itself
but because it unites us to Christ. Justification is by faith
alone not because of what faith merits or achieves but
because of what it receives.”130
Faith is “the principal work of the Holy Spirit,” as we saw
that Calvin said. The Spirit unites us to Christ. As a house
benefits from electricity when hooked up to the grid, so we
benefit from the work of Christ when it becomes ours by our
being in union with him. In this, not only is he our substitute
and representative, acting in our place and on our behalf,
but we are one with him. His work is ours because we are on
the same team. If, in a game of soccer, the goalkeeper
makes a massive blunder and lets in the decisive goal at the
last minute, the whole team loses the game. Conversely, if
the striker, with seconds left, scores a brilliant goal to win
the game 3–2, the whole team participates in the victory. In
a similar way, Christ has made atonement and won the
victory for his team, while in turn the Holy Spirit selects us
for his team. There the analogy stops, for in this case, the
Spirit achieves this by being poured into our hearts and
bringing about a relationship much closer than can ever be
envisioned in a sports team.
We Thereby Share Christ’s Relation to the Father
Since we are united to Christ, God regards us in the
identical way he does Christ. The Father treats us in exactly
the same way as he does his own eternal and beloved Son.
Jesus consistently described himself as God’s Son. In turn,
he called God his Father. He used this term not as a simile
(God is like a father), nor even as a metaphor (using the
word in an unusual way in order to highlight aspects of his
character that might otherwise pass unnnoticed). Instead,
he regarded it as his personal name; this is the proper way
to address God. This is in stark contrast to the image of God
as a mother, which is used as a simile on occasion in the OT
but never as a metaphor and does not recur at all in the NT.
This was revolutionary. No Jew would think of speaking of
God like this. Indeed, Jesus’ opponents accused him of
blasphemy and took up stones to stone him. Jesus’ defense
was not that he had been misunderstood but that he was
innocent of blasphemy, since he was telling the truth. In
each case, he proceeds to reinforce his claims and takes
them one stage further. From claiming equality with God
(John 5:16–47) he asserts identity with God the Father
(10:22–36) and places himself as coordinate with God as the
object of faith (14:1), because whoever has seen him has
seen the Father also, since they indwell one another (14:7–
11).
Because of this, and the fact that we are united with
Christ, we, too, can call God “our Father.” Jesus taught his
disciples to pray, “Our Father . . . in heaven.” This is to be
the customary way to pray. It entails adoption as sons and
continuing sonship thereafter (Matt. 6:9; Luke 11:2). It is a
sharing in the unique relation that Jesus has to the Father.
He is the Son by nature; we are sons by grace and adoption.
As such, we become coheirs with Christ (Rom. 8:15–17). The
Holy Spirit, who indwells and saturates us, grants us the
knowledge of this sonship (Gal. 4:4–6). In both these
instances—Romans 8 and Galatians 4—the Holy Spirit is
poured into our hearts and gives us the knowledge of our
own adoption as sons, whether we are Jews (abba) or
Gentiles (patēr).131 We will explore these great matters in
more detail in the chapters that follow.
Summary
 Let us summarize what we have found so far. Union with
Christ rests, in the first place, on God’s having created man
to be compatible with him on the finite level. He made us for
himself. This is correlative with his being the Creator and our
being his creatures. In making man in his image, he had the
goal of Christ—the image of the invisible God—becoming
man, and man’s being united to him.
Second, union with Christ is based on the foundation of
Christ’s union with us in his incarnation. He, the eternal Son
of the Father, of the identical being as the Father, took
human nature into personal union. He then and now has a
human body and soul. He became one of us while remaining
who he always was and is. This is a personal—hypostatic—
union. The person of the Son unites to himself a single
human nature.
Third, Christ, the eternal Son, having united human nature
in himself, now unites us with himself by the Holy Spirit, as
the Spirit draws us to him in faith. This is not a personal
union, as we saw in the incarnation of the Son. In this case,
the Holy Spirit enters, indwells, saturates, and pervades
countless human persons and so brings them into union
with Christ the Son. As the Puritan John Flavel put it, in
reflecting on John 17:23, paraphrasing Jesus’ words: “Here is
the mystical union betwixt Christ and the saints, q.d. Thou
and I are one essentially, they and I are one mystically: and
thou and I are one by communication of the Godhead, and
singular fulness of the Spirit to me as Mediator: and they
and I are one, by my communication of the Spirit to them in
measure.”132
The question remains: of what does this union with Christ
consist? We will attempt to explore this question, insofar as
we are able, in the following chapters.

FOUR
 Union with Christ and Representation

Christ Represents Us because He Is Our Covenant

Head
There is a legal aspect to union with Christ. God is just.
From the first, he required of Adam obedience to his law as
a means to being confirmed in a righteous relationship with
himself and to receiving life (Gen. 2:15–17). After the fall his
law was, and is, the standard by which our obligations in the
covenant of grace are to be measured. Consequently,
salvation in Christ is founded on a legal, forensic base. For
example, the first thing of significance in the atonement
was that God might be just (Rom. 3:26).
In this, Christ fulfilled the law on our behalf, as our
representative. He did this in what is termed his active
obedience—his obedience as man to the demands of God’s
holy law. Adam when created was responsible to obey the
laws of God. He failed to do this, breaking the command not
to eat of the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and
evil. Adam was a public person, acting not for himself alone
but for the whole race in solidarity with him. As a result, not
only was his guilt his own, but all people shared in it. Adam
and the whole race were also plunged into a state of
corruption, and placed under the condemnation of God. Paul
makes this clear in Romans 5:12–21, where he draws a
comparison between Adam and his sin, which brought death
and condemnation, and Christ’s obedience, which brings
justification and life. Moreover, in 1 Corinthians 15:20–23,
Paul again places Adam and Christ in contrast: the one
brought death to all; the other brings life and resurrection.
This is part of a theme of corporate solidarity seen
throughout Scripture. When one man—Achan—sinned, all
Israel sinned (Josh. 7:1–26). Individuals are not identified in
isolation; they are A the son of B the son of C of the tribe of
D. There is a certain similarity to a team: if the captain of
the team scores a goal against his own team in the last
minute, the whole team loses. In this case, the captain
represents the team, his actions implicating the whole. At
the same time, he is one with the team. What he does is the
doing of the team in his own person. This thinking is alien to
the modern Western mind-set, governed as it is by the
individualism of the Renaissance and Enlightenment. We
speak of one man, one vote. Each person must decide for
himself or herself.
Christ, in his incarnate life and ministry, was the second
Adam. Man had sinned; man must put things right, not only
by avoiding sin but by actually rendering to God the
obedience that Adam failed to supply. Yet if he were born by
the identical procedure as the rest of the race, he would
inherit Adam’s guilt and the corrupt nature conveyed by
natural generation. Moreover, purely as man he would lack
the ability to bring about salvation. Therefore, the Son of
God stepped in, became incarnate by the Holy Spirit of the
virgin Mary, took Adam’s place, and obeyed the Father. He
did this throughout his life. As man, he was a new creation,
the Holy Spirit coming upon Mary, overshadowing her as he
did the waters of creation (Luke 1:34–35; cf. Gen. 1:2). He
was captain of a new team, head of the new humanity the
Father had given him before the foundation of the world.
So the young Jesus grew in favor with God and man (Luke
2:52). He progressed from one degree of obedience to
another; the incident at the temple on his twelfth birthday
was an example of immature obedience, following the work
his Father had given him.133 Later, he issued a confident
challenge to his opponents to convict him of sin (John 8:46);
not only could they not do so, but in itself the challenge
disclosed his having a clear conscience. The NT consistently
witnesses to his sinlessness. At the same time, it asserts in
no uncertain terms his true humanity—hunger and thirst,
weariness and sorrow, friendships and grief at bereavement,
responsibilities to his mother, temptation, sufferings, death,
and burial. He wholeheartedly obeyed the law of God (John
4:34; 17:4). Even when faced with the imminent death
planned from eternity and the possibility of evading it (Matt.
26:39; Heb. 10:7), he did not turn aside, for it was necessary
to repair the damage caused by the first Adam (Rom. 5:12–
21). This is termed his active obedience, his positive
fulfilling of the law of God, on our behalf and in our place
but also in union with us. He did this not merely externally
to us—instead of us, like a substitute. Because of his union
with us and our union with him, we were in him as he did it.
He was captain of the team, and his actions are ours.
Moreover, there was another aspect to his obedience to
the Father, his passive obedience (from patior, “to suffer”),
by which he underwent for us the penalty of the broken law.
We had sinned in Adam, death and condemnation the result.
In order for us to be restored to God’s favor, at the very
least (for salvation, as we will see, means far more than
that) the penalty of that broken law had to be suffered in
Christ.134 Hence the NT witness to Christ suffering, “the just
for the unjust to bring us to God” (1 Peter 3:18; cf. Rom.
3:25; 4:25; 5:8; Heb. 10:1–14; 1 Peter 2:21f.). So he gave his
life a ransom for many (Matt. 20:28; Mark 10:45). By his
obedience the many are declared righteous (Rom. 5:12–21).
These two aspects of Christ’s obedience in reality are parts
of his whole united obedience to God.135
Christ Represents Us because He Shares Our Nature
Christ is perfectly qualified to be our representative for
two overwhelming reasons. First, he is the eternal Son of
God. In Hebrews 4:14–16, the author writes of “Jesus the
Son of God who has passed through the heavens.” This is a
reference to his identity as the Son of God, supreme over
the prophets, angels, Moses, and the OT priesthood, and
also to his ascension to the right hand of the Father, a
recurring theme throughout the letter. It demonstrates that
he is able to help us in time of need because of who he is
(the Son of God) and what he has done (ascended to the
position of supreme authority). Second, he has taken our
nature into union, and so he is absolutely qualified to be our
representative. He was “tested in all points as we are, yet
without sin.” He can help us because he has experienced
temptation and resisted it implacably. In his incarnation he
took into union our human nature. All that he is and all that
he did and does for us as our Mediator is in our nature. His
human obedience is vicarious throughout, from his
temptation as the second Adam (Matt. 4:1–10) up to his
resurrection (1 Cor. 15:22) and ascension (Eph. 2:6ff.).136 In
the words of the fifteenth-century Latin hymn:
O love, how deep, how broad, how high! How passing thought and
fantasy,
That God, the Son of God, should take our mortal form for mortals’
sake.
For us baptized, for us he bore his holy fast, and hungered sore;
For us temptations sharp he knew, for us the tempter overthrew.
For us to wicked men betrayed, scourged, mocked, in crown of thorns
arrayed;
For us he bore the cross’s death, for us at length gave up his breath.
For us he rose from death again, for us he went on high to reign;
For us he sent his Spirit here to guide, to strengthen, and to cheer.

Since the Spirit unites us to Christ through faith, Christ’s

substitutionary and representative work is effected for us
and consequently in us.
Union with Christ and the Atonement
Christ Is Our Substitute
Jesus took our place throughout his life and ministry and
especially on the cross and in his resurrection and
ascension. A substitute takes the place occupied by
someone else; in a soccer match, the substitute comes onto
the pitch and replaces another player, who leaves the game
at the same time. The NT is full of language that speaks of
Christ in this way. Its particular focus is on the cross, on his
atoning sacrifice made there for sinners.
The Gospels record Jesus’ words at the Last Supper (Luke
22:19 and parallels), and Paul repeats them (1 Cor. 11:24).
Jesus, on the night in which he was betrayed, said, “This is
my body, which is for you,” and “this is my blood of the
covenant, which is poured out for many for the remission of
sins [to peri pollōn ekchunnomenon]” (Matt. 26:26–29). This
follows his claim that he “did not come to be served but to
serve, and to give his life a ransom for many [lutron anti
pollōn]” (Matt. 20:28; Mark 10:45). Jesus described his
impending death as given “for the life of the world [huper
tēs tou kosmou zōēs]” (John 6:51). Caiaphas’s unknowing
and ironic prophecy that Jesus was to die on behalf of the
nation runs along similar lines, in its pointing to the benefit
of one man’s dying instead of the whole nation (John 11:50).
Paul characteristically writes of the atonement in
substitutionary terms. The central theme of the gospel is
that “Christ died for our sins [huper tōn hamartiōn hēmōn]
according to the Scriptures” (1 Cor. 15:3). Paul reiterates
this in his second letter to Corinth when he says that “one
died for all [heis huper pantōn apethanen]” (2 Cor. 5:14–15),
leading to his most profound claim that “he who knew no sin
was made sin for us that we might become the
righteousness of God in him” (2 Cor. 5:21). Elsewhere he
asserts that Christ died for us (Christos huper hēmōn
apethanen [Rom. 5:8]), that the Father gave up his Son for
us all (Rom. 8:32), and that Christ gave his life a ransom for
all (1 Tim. 2:6).
Peter has the same doctrine as Paul. Christ bore our sins
in his own body on the tree (1 Peter 2:21–24). He died, the
just for the unjust (1 Peter 3:18). The author of Hebrews
states that he was once offered to bear the sins of many
(Heb. 9:28). Behind all these statements—which are merely
representative samples—lies the OT sacrificial ritual in
Leviticus 4–5, in which a man offered an animal sacrifice;
the pronouncement “he is guilty” was followed by the
sprinkling of the altar with the blood of the slain animal and
the declaration “he is forgiven.” The offerer was
symbolically cleared from his sins by the animal’s dying
instead of him. Clearly, animal sacrifices were inadequate to
atone for human sin. They simply foreshadowed the one
great sacrifice of Christ on the cross, effective for all time to
atone for the sins of his people.137
Christ Is Our Representative
All that Jesus did and does is on our behalf. A
representative acts on behalf of others. In Britain, a member
of Parliament votes on behalf of his constituents, and voices
their interests in Parliament. A member of Congress
similarly represents the electorate in his district or state. His
actions are those of the ones he represents. An ambassador
represents his country; his words are understood to reflect
the policies of his country’s government.138
In this sense, Paul describes Christ as being handed over
for our offenses and raised for our justification (Rom. 4:25).
He then explains that Christ was not acting on his own
account but was the head and representative of his people.
As Adam represented the whole human race and so, when
he sinned, he plunged the entire race into sin, misery, and
death, so Christ, in his obedience, acted on behalf of his
own people (Rom. 5:12–21). As a result, his obedience is
reckoned to them, and so they are accounted or constituted
righteous. Some of the passages cited above on substitution
carry this representative theme as well. Whereas a
substitute takes the place of another person, a
representative acts on behalf of that person. He is not
simply another individual; his actions are to be regarded as
those of the ones he represents. This is particularly clear in
the case of the high priesthood of Christ, expounded in
Hebrews against the backdrop of the OT high priest. There,
Aaron entered the Holy of Holies once a year on the Day of
Atonement to represent the people of Israel. His high
priestly garments indicated this function; the breastplate
contained twelve jewels, symbolizing the twelve tribes of
Israel. When he entered the sanctuary, he carried these
jewels on his person, bringing them before Yahweh, the
atoning sacrifice being on behalf of the people. Aaron had
already offered sacrifice first for his own sins, for without
this preparation he would not be fit to enter the presence of
Yahweh on behalf of others. In Christ’s case, he had no sins
for which to atone, and so he entered heaven at his
ascension in his own right, thoroughly equipped to act on
behalf of his people (Heb. 4:14–5:10; 6:18–20; 7:23–8:1;
9:11–10:14).
On this basis, Christ, on the cross, took our place and
endured the full brunt of the wrath of God for us. Moreover,
in doing so, he represented us and in his resurrection and
ascension to the right hand of the Father acts on our behalf.
Christ Acts in Union with Us: We Are United to
Christ
As both substitute and representative, Christ is seen as
distinct from those who benefit from what he did. A
substitute is, by definition, another person than the one he
replaces. A representative, similarly, acts on behalf of
another. While his actions are legally accounted as those of
the one he represents, the two are distinctly separate
persons. The concept of union takes us a stage further than
either of these two metaphors. In this case, all that Christ
did and does we do, since we are one with him. The
“otherness” of a substitute or representative is in the
background. Not only does Christ act in our place as a
substitute, and on our behalf as our representative, but
because of the union sustained between Christ and
ourselves, his actions are ours. At the same time, the
otherness of the substitute and representative should
prevent any thought of our being merged with Christ or
undergoing a change of essence.139
This is of immense importance when we consider the
argument, in connection with the atonement, that it would
be unjust for God to acquit the guilty and discharge the
innocent. This argument is correct and has strong biblical
backing from the OT, and from the character of God. It was
a principle enshrined in the civil law of the Mosaic covenant:
You shall not pervert the justice due to your poor in his lawsuit. Keep
far from a false charge, and do not kill the innocent and righteous, for
I will not acquit the wicked. And you shall take no bribe, for a bribe
blinds the clear-sighted and subverts the cause of those who are in
the right. (Ex. 23:6–8)
“Cursed be anyone who takes a bribe to shed innocent blood.” And all
the people shall say, “Amen.” (Deut. 27:25)

It is reinforced in Proverbs:
He who justifies the wicked and he who condemns the righteous
are both alike an abomination to the LORD. (Prov. 17:15; cf. 24:24)
To impose a fine on a righteous man is not good. (Prov. 17:26)
It is not good to be partial to the wicked
or to deprive the righteous of justice. (Prov. 18:5)

The prophets pronounce woes on rulers “who acquit the

guilty for a bribe, and deprive the innocent of his right” (Isa.
5:23). Underlying this is the justice of Yahweh, who “will by
no means clear the guilty” (Ex. 34:7).
The significance of this principle is seen in the book
Pierced for Our Transgressions. The authors answer dozens
of objections to the penal substitutionary doctrine of the
atonement, one after the other, most or all of which use this
argument, or variations of it, as a basis for their opposition
to the doctrine. As soon as one objection is answered,
another appears on the scene, and the process is repeated
over and over again.140 Yet these counterarguments are all
offset by union with Christ. Once union with Christ is
brought to bear on the matter, the scenario changes. It is no
longer a case of God’s punishing the innocent and letting
the guilty off scot-free. Because of the union established
between Christ and his elect people, the wrongs done by the
guilty parties have become Christ’s as well. In turn, the
righteousness of the One who bears the punishment
actually belongs to the other, since both are regarded as
one.
As Hugh Martin wrote, “The possibility of real atonement
absolutely postulates and demands a conjunction between
him who atones and those for whom his atonement is
available. This is beyond need of proof.”141 This is the
question that Martin proposes: what kind of conjunction is
needed between Christ and the sinner for his redeeming
work? His answer: a conjunction that goes beyond his union
with us in the incarnation, since that union is with human
nature in general and does not of itself benefit any person in
particular.142 Moreover, it goes beyond substitution and
representation, for these merely beg the question of how
and why Christ is a substitute and representative. It points
to what Martin calls the everlasting covenant in which the
union of Christ and his people was established. “He is
substituted for us, because he is one with us.”143 He argues
that it is a covenant between the Father and the Son. The
Westminster Assembly, on the other hand, pointed to a
determination between God the Trinity and Christ as second
Adam and head of his elect.144 This latter position has the
backing of classic Reformed theology prior to the Assembly.
But Martin—as well as others who follow him—equally
agrees that union between Christ and his people,
established in the eternal counsels of God, underlies the
atonement and gives it its meaning.145 From this it follows
that when Christ died on the cross and rose from the dead,
we are really and truly the ones who died and rose with him,
as Paul says in Romans 6:1ff. Moreover, it also follows that
when he died, our sin was utterly and definitively dealt with,
since Christ died in union with us and we with him. Sin can
no longer have dominion over us!
 The atonement is integrally connected to the doctrine of
justification. It remains for us to examine how union with
Christ and justification are related. Before we do that, we
must backtrack a little. Our investigation of the atonement
has led us to reflect on the eternal counsels of the Trinity,
the root of our entire salvation, the atonement and
justification included. First, then, we will inquire into how
union with Christ comes to expression in the eternal decree
of election and the loving plan of the Holy Trinity to save us
in union with Christ the incarnate Son.
Union with Christ and Election
That election takes place in Christ is clear in the NT.
Where Paul writes of our being chosen by God, he invariably
describes it as in union with Christ. Thus, in Ephesians 1:4
he states that the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ
“chose us in him before the foundation of the world.” He
attributes election to the God and Father of Christ, affirms
that it was an eternal decision that occurred before the
universe existed, and states that it was “in him,” in Christ.
Since in the rest of the paragraph he unfolds the panorama
of salvation as occurring in Christ at each and every stage,
it follows that it is in union with Christ, the beloved Son, that
our eternal election was made. Paul says much the same in
2 Timothy 1:9, where he refers to God’s grace, “which he
gave us in Christ before the ages began.” In the great chain
of salvation that Paul unfolds in Romans 8:29–30, God’s
predestining us was so that we may “be conformed to the
image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn
among many brothers.” This echoes the words of Jesus,
recorded by John, to the effect that the Father had given him
certain people who in the course of time came to him, and
whom he would never under any circumstances cast out
(John 6:37–40). The doctrine of election cannot be
understood biblically and theologically if it is abstracted
from its being in Christ. It is a Trinitarian decree, it bears the
closest connection to the person and work of Christ, it
cannot be severed from the gospel, and it is the root and
foundation of all the other ways in which union with Christ is
worked out in human history and in the life experience of
the faithful. It is as far from fatalism as could be imagined.146
So much is evident when we consider the various
expositions of the theme in classic Reformed theology. We
will consider a number of representative Reformed
theologians and confessions. This is not a claim that the
views expressed there were unanimously agreed, but rather
that these doctrines are rooted in significant figures in the
Reformed tradition.
John Calvin (1509–64)
For Calvin, assurance of election is to be sought in Christ
precisely because we were chosen in Christ before the
foundation of the world. Any attempt on our part to probe
the mysteries of election is in vain, for it is beyond us. Yet
God has revealed himself in his Son, in whom we have
salvation.
 Accordingly, those whom God has adopted as his sons are said to
have been chosen not in themselves but in his Christ [Eph. 1:4] for
unless he could love them in him, he could not honor them with the
inheritance of his Kingdom if they had not previously become
partakers of him. But if we have been chosen in him, we shall not find
assurance of our election in ourselves; and not even in God the
Father, if we conceive him as severed from his Son. Christ, then, is the
mirror wherein we must, and without self-deception may, contemplate
our own election. For since it is into his body the Father has destined
those to be engrafted whom he has willed from eternity to be his own,
that he may hold as sons all whom he acknowledges to be among his
members, we have a sufficiently clear and firm testimony that we
have been inscribed in the book of life [cf. Rev. 21:27] if we are in
communion with Christ.147

Calvin considers that election in Christ has definite

practical implications. We can have assurance of our
election in this life if we are in communion with Christ, since
we were elected in union with him. Faith in Christ here and
now mirrors the eternal electing purpose of God, since the
latter was undertaken with Christ as our head. Calvin
considers that Christ “claims for himself, in common with
the Father, the right to choose.”148 Furthermore, following
Augustine, he talks of Christ as the first of the elect, since
he himself was chosen to the office of Mediator. He is “the
clearest light of predestination and grace,” appointed
Mediator solely by God’s good pleasure.149 The Father has
gathered us together in Christ the head and joined us to
himself “by an indissoluble bond.” So the members of Christ
“engrafted to their head . . . are never cut off from
salvation.”150 Election cannot be properly conceived in
separation from Christ.
Hieronymous Zanchius (1516–90)
Zanchius, a native of Italy, wrote at some length of
election in Christ in his massive treatise, De natura Dei.
Discussing Ephesians 1:4 in particular, he considers that the
Father did not elect as the Father but as God, since election
is a work common to the whole Trinity (quandoquidem
eligere opus est totius Trinitatis commune). The Son was
also included, since there can be no difference here
between the Father and Christ because they are both the
same God. As for our being chosen “in him,” Zanchius says
it is clear that we were chosen in Christ, considered neither
as God nor as man but as the God-man (theanthrōpos).
Christ is presented here not as God, since as God he chose
us himself (John 13:18). Nor is he considered purely as man.
What Paul means is that in election there was a conjunction
between the elect and the One who elected, man with God.
The Redeemer needed to be God and man simultaneously in
his office as Mediator.151 The Son was predestined and
appointed to this office, the decree encompassing his taking
human nature into union in the incarnation. So Christ,
according to his human nature, was chosen to this great
honor, that on account of the union with the Logos he was
to be born the Son of God, the Mediator and Savior of the
elect.152 Finally, in this Christ, the Son of God, all the elect
were foreknown, loved, chosen, and predestined to be given
the Spirit of adoption and regenerated in the Son.153
We note, Zanchius continues, that three particles are used
of Christ in this connection: in him, through him, on account
of him (en hō, di’ hou, di’ hon). Sometimes these are used
interchangeably. The first of these signifies Christ as head of
the church in whom all the blessings of God the Father
repose; all these treasures are communicated to us from
eternity. God loves us in Christ as head of the church, and
owns us as his sons (pro filiis agnovit). In this sense we are
as Christ is (nempe per inde atque si reipsa talis essemus,
qualis Christus est, iustissimi, sanctissimi, mundissimi,
beatissimi). Such we are in the sight of God (Tales nos
quoque sumus in conspectu Dei, quotquot ille intuetur in
Christo, qualis est & ipse Christus). On the other hand, the
second phrase, through him/whom, refers to his office of
Mediator—for through Christ we are reconciled to God.154 In
short, God did not choose us because Christ died for us, but
Christ died for us because God chose us in him.155 Therefore,
we are not elect on account of Christ’s merits, since election
has priority over what he did and so included his merit in its
purview.156
Zanchius expresses the same ideas in his commentary on
Ephesians, published posthumously in 1595. There he states
again that God elected us, and did so in Christ as our head
and Mediator. Christ was chosen first as our head; then we
were chosen in him. We are not blessed unless it is in Christ
our head.157
In De natura Dei, Zanchius relates the intent of the
atonement to election in Christ. For those for whom he died,
Christ expiated their sins, and freed them from death. So
they receive eternal life through Christ, and are justified and
glorified on account of Christ (propter Christum). All who
were chosen before the foundation of the world were chosen
to these things in Christ, and so those who were not chosen
do not have these benefits.158 Here Zanchius expresses the
point that all the blessings of salvation flow from our being
in Christ from before the constitution of the universe, in the
eternal electing purpose of the Holy Trinity.
Amandus Polanus (1561–1610)
Polanus was a significant theologian of the Reformed
church, based at Basel at the end of the sixteenth century
and the start of the next. He was no innovator but a
synthesizer of Reformed doctrine. As such, he provides a
litmus test of what was being taught ministers in the
Reformed churches at that time.159 His Syntagma Theologiae
Christianae is a massive example of his work, a systematic
compendium of his teaching. In it he considers
predestination and election at some length.
According to Polanus, the election of Christ is an aspect of
predestination “by which God, from eternity, designated his
only-begotten Son to be also Son of God according to his
human nature, and head of angels and humans.”160 The
whole Trinity made this decree, and so was the efficient
cause. The Father elected us, not as the Father but as God,
because election is not strictly a work of the person of the
Father but of the whole Trinity, of which the Father is the
principium, the source (sed ut Deus, quandoquidem electio
est totius Sacrosanctiae Trinitatis commune opus, cuius
principium est Pater). The Son (Polanus refers to John 13:18;
15:16, 19) and the Holy Spirit (John 3:6; Acts 13:2; 1 Cor.
6:11; 12:3, 13; Eph. 4:4) also chose us in union with the
Father.161 This election of Christ is entirely gratuitous. It is not
for any merit performed by humanity. Its end is the glory of
the Father. Christ is contemplated as the Son of God
according to both natures. According to his divine nature, he
is from the Father by generation (ex Patri generatione), so
he is not chosen as Son of God according to his divine
nature. According to his human nature, however, he is
eternally elected, created to the image of God, to the grace
of personal union with the eternal Son. This election of
Christ is the foundation of the election of angels and human
beings (Electio Christi est fundamentum & firmamentum
electionis Angelorum & hominum).162 It is Christ as our
Mediator who is chosen.163
The election of humans can be divided into two parts,
Polanus thinks.164 There is the general election of a nation,
such as Israel, and there is special election, by which God
ordains to eternal life whoever he chooses in his free
benevolence.165 In support, he cites Athanasius, in his
Orationes contra Arianos, 3:1, in his statement that our life
is founded in no other way than in Christ before the ages
existed, for it is through Christ that the ages were created.166
He insists not merely that Christ is chosen as the means by
which we were to be saved but that the election took place
in him (Nec enim Paulus dicit, elegit nos per ispum, sed
elegit nos in ipso).167
Polanus answers the charges of Jacobus Arminius—in an
uncanny pre-echo of the attacks of Karl Barth on the
Reformed doctrine of election—that this doctrine of election
has no regard for Christ. “Certain people accuse us of
having an absolute election [absolutum electionem] without
respect of Christ by which God, without respect to Christ,
chooses some to salvation, and that we oppose election as
founded in Christ,” he complains (opponunt electionem in
Christo fundatam, fuisque mediis & mediorum taxei
ordinatam). On the contrary, Polanus replies, “we
acknowledge with all our heart through the grace of God
and openly profess that God chose us in Christ, to be
acknowledged through faith, and that our election to
salvation was founded in Christ, in whom as our head we
are chosen as members of his mystical body.”168
Polanus agrees with Zanchius that election consists, first,
in the choosing by the entire Trinity of Christ as Mediator
and Savior. This includes the assumption by the Son of
human nature in the incarnation, and his entire work for us
and our salvation. All of it is embraced by the term in Christ.
Then, second, God chooses to save those upon whom he
sets his free and sovereign love and does so in union with
Christ their head and Mediator. At no time are they
contemplated in any other state than in him.
Thomas Goodwin (1600–1680)
Goodwin, a prominent member of the Westminster
Assembly and an independent in his ecclesiology, wrote in
his commentary on Ephesians in similar vein to Zanchius
and Polanus. In election Christ was a common person, as the
head of the elect. He was chosen first, and at the same time
we in him, before the foundation of the world. As a common
person, he was the Son of God who was to become
incarnate; by the decree of God he was “pitched upon and
singled out to assume our nature, and to sustain the person
of a Head before God in the meanwhile.”169 God, in the act of
choosing, gave us to Christ, and in giving us to Christ he
chose us. “In a word, as in the womb head and members are
not conceived apart, but together, as having relation each
to the other, so were we and Christ, as making up one
mystical body unto God, formed together in that eternal
womb of election. So that God’s choice did completely
terminate itself on him and us; us with him, and yet us in
him.” As a result we have a representative existence in
Christ from everlasting by virtue of his being considered as
a common head.170
The Westminster Confession of Faith (1643–
47)
The divines clearly express their belief, following
Scripture, that election is in Christ, although it is not
strongly emphasized. It is seen in their presentation of a
marked disparity between election and preterition (passing
by). The latter is directly connected with the sin of the
nonelect and is in perfect accord with God’s justice.
Election, on the other hand, is entirely a matter of free
grace and love. The elect are chosen in Christ; the nonelect
are left to their own sins. Election is “all to the praise of his
glorious grace,” while preterition is “to the praise of his
glorious justice.” In the latter, the nonelect receive what is
due to them for their own sin. In the former, the elect
receive what is due to Christ, in whom they are chosen.
Both are in accord with justice; in election the justice is
gracious because it is freely given in and through the
Mediator (WCF 3.5–7).171
Herman Bavinck (1854–1921)
Bavinck, in his Reformed Dogmatics, agrees with Zanchius
and Polanus that “the church and Christ are jointly chosen,
in one and the same decree, in fellowship with and for each
other (Eph. 1:4).”172 Moreover, “the elect are not viewed
separately, that is, atomistically, but as a single organism.
They constitute the people of God, the body of Christ, the
temple of the Holy Spirit. They are, accordingly, elect in
Christ (Eph. 1:4), to be members of his body. Hence both
Christ and the church are included in the decree of
predestination.”173 He cites Augustine, in his On the
Predestination of the Saints, in support. Bavinck is clear that
Christ, unlike us, was not the recipient of God’s mercy from
sin and misery but agrees that it is appropriate to speak of
his being elected, since he was ordained to the office of
Mediator and to assume into union human nature.
Additionally, Bavinck continues, there is the consistent
witness of Scripture to our being chosen in Christ,174 and that
all other benefits flow from him.175 Whatever their different
nuances, Reformed theologians were agreed that Christ and
his church, the mystical Christ, together constitute the real
object of election.176 The inclusion of angels in election, as
Polanus did, only serves to indicate their strong conviction
that election—and the blessings that follow from it—
embraces not only the redemption of man but also the
renovation of the cosmos.177
Union with Christ and Justification
Since election is in union with Christ, it follows that all
other aspects of the accomplishment and application of
salvation are to be seen in connection with union with Christ
as well. We have already caught a glimpse of how this
relates to the atonement. Because the atoning death of
Christ is in many ways the foundation stone of our
justification, we will now consider how the latter is related to
union with Christ.
The Relationship between Justification and
Faith
Since justification is only by faith, faith is logically prior to
justification. Justification is commonly described in
Reformed and Lutheran theology as by faith alone. This, as
Tony Lane suggests, is better expressed as justification only
by faith. The point is that faith is never alone.178 The Holy
Spirit, who gives us the gift of saving faith, always produces
fruit in those who receive it. Sanctification, while distinct, is
an inseparable concomitant of justification. Justification,
however, is only through faith. The exclusive particle, alone,
is intended to stress that justification is grounded in Christ,
in his obedience reckoned or imputed to us, and that it is
received through no other means than faith. This excludes
anything in us, including the grace of God imparted to us by
the Holy Spirit. Justification only by faith affirms this and
also precludes the misunderstanding that the faith through
which we receive Christ has no consequent effect on us.
Paul makes it clear that justification is only through faith
because it is only by Christ and his obedience; this is so
particularly in the early chapters of Romans and in
Galatians. He is concerned in the latter letter to combat any
idea that we contribute anything to securing our status
before God. If anyone were to teach such a thing, he says,
let them be accursed (Gal. 1:8–9).
In turn, saving faith is a gift of God, as Paul stresses in
Ephesians 2:8–9. Jesus teaches this, too, in John 6:44–45
and 64–65; his conversation with Nicodemus underlines the
point that it is the Holy Spirit who grants faith, who brings
about birth from above (John 3:1–15). From this, it follows
that regeneration, the new birth that the Holy Spirit gives in
raising us from death in sin (Eph. 2:1), is prior to faith. In
turn, since faith is prior to justification, regeneration has
priority to both, justification included. We are left with an
order: regeneration—faith—justification. Does that mean,
however, that justification is received through God’s work of
grace begun in us in regeneration? If regeneration has
priority to justification, does it not follow that the latter must
contemplate the inward work of the Holy Spirit? That is the
doctrine taught by the Roman Catholic Church, whereby we
are justified on the basis of faith working through love, in
terms of the righteousness of Christ imparted to us by the
Holy Spirit. Protestantism, both Lutheran and Reformed,
resisted this idea strenuously. Why was this so?
 There were strong theological and biblical reasons for
avoiding the impasse created by a strictly logical order such
as outlined above. Martin Luther, John Calvin, and Lutherans
and Reformed as a whole all stressed that the work of God’s
grace in us does not have regard to justification. Why is
this? The answer is that justification is grounded on Christ,
on his obedience and righteousness. This is outside
ourselves and independent of our own personal
accomplishment. It is received by faith, since in faith we
abandon self-reliance and trust in Christ alone for salvation.
Because we were by nature dead in sin and under the wrath
of God, nothing in us enables us to attain a right status with
him, not even if due to his grace. Certainly, God imparts his
grace to us by the Holy Spirit’s transforming us into his
image in Christ. But this has nothing whatever to do with
our attaining a right status with God. Our justification comes
exclusively as a result of the work of Christ, through his
obedient life and atoning sufferings and death, sealed and
vindicated in his resurrection and ascension. Only faith,
looking entirely outside ourselves, is appropriate for
receiving the gratuitous gift of justification.179
The Westminster Confession of Faith on
Justification Only by Faith
First, the Confession’s chapter 11 begins by relating
justification to effectual calling. The latter is the result of the
work of God’s grace to his elect by which he powerfully and
graciously draws them to Christ by the Holy Spirit. Thus,
justification is freely given, a work of his grace. Here, in WCF
11.1, is a refutation of both the Roman Catholic and
Arminian doctrines. Justification does not involve the
infusion of righteousness. Instead, it consists in the
remission of sins and the accounting righteous of the
persons justified. This occurs by imputing to them the
obedience and satisfaction of Christ. Thus, justification is
forensic, by the imputation or accounting of Christ’s
righteousness, not renovative by the impartation or infusion
of grace, as Rome taught. On the other hand, contrary to
Arminian teaching, faith itself is not imputed, nor is any
other evangelical obedience involved. This would simply be
another form of the Roman Catholic doctrine, for
justification would then be related to something present in
the one believing, albeit the consequence of grace. This the
Confession strenuously opposes, since it does not depend
on “any thing wrought in them, or done by them.”
Justification is based on Christ alone. For their part, the
justified simply receive and rest on Christ and his
righteousness by faith. This faith itself is the gift of God.
Faith is appropriate to justification, since it is described in
WCF 14.2 as “accepting, receiving, and resting upon Christ
alone for justification, sanctification, and eternal life, by
virtue of the covenant of grace.” Faith looks to Christ alone;
it does not contemplate the works of grace or the self. It
answers from the human side the exclusively gracious,
objective, and forensic nature of justification in Christ and
his righteousness alone.
In WCF 11.2, faith, receiving and resting on Christ alone
for salvation, is the only instrument of justification. This is in
alignment with the insistence in WCF 11.1 that justification
is grounded only in Christ, not in anything present in the
justified, not even if it be by grace in evangelical obedience.
Faith is the only instrument of justification because Christ is
its only ground. As the later popular hymn “My Hope Is Built
on Nothing Less” had it, “On Christ, the solid rock, I stand;
all other ground is sinking sand.”
In order to balance the equation, the section adds that
saving faith is never alone in the one who is justified but is
always accompanied by other saving graces. It works
through love. It is living faith, for without works faith is
dead. In short, the believer is a repentant believer or he is
no believer at all. The question then arises as to what effect
these other graces have in relation to justification. If the
faith through which we are justified is always accompanied
by love, does not love justify? If the one with saving faith is
also repentant, should not repentance have something to do
with justification? The Confession has already given us the
answer: these things have nothing to do with justification.
They are inseparable from the faith that justifies but are
disconnected from the justification received through faith.
They define the person justified, not the justification of the
person. They describe the one who has faith, but do not
constitute his standing before God received through faith.180
The divines emphasize the sheer grace of God in
justification in WCF 11.3. Christ made full and complete
satisfaction to the Father’s justice for all the justified. This
secures their complete acquittal and the perfection of their
righteousness, which is Christ’s righteousness reckoned to
them. This is entirely of God’s free grace. The exact justice
and rich grace of God meet together.
Nor is faith itself imputed for justification, as Arminians
held. If that were true, faith would be a work and the
gratuitous nature of justification jeopardized. Instead, faith
is merely an instrument by which Christ and his
righteousness is received. Faith is the appropriate means of
reception, since it simply receives and rests on Christ alone
(WCF 14.1–2). Once again, we see how union with Christ fits
perfectly with justification only by faith. Precisely because
the righteous status is achieved only by Christ and is
reckoned or imputed by God to his elect, who have done
nothing to merit it, it is only by faith—abandoning self and
trusting only to Christ—that this becomes actual to the
elect.
The Westminster Larger Catechism
Thomas F. Torrance accuses the Assembly of departing
from Calvin’s teaching and that of the Scots Reformation, in
which justification is held inseparably with union with Christ.
He fails to consider WLC 65–90.181 It is astonishing that a
scholar so careful and meticulous throughout his vast
corpus should be so neglectful on a matter such as this
much closer to home.
The Catechism considers the whole of the application of
salvation to us by the Holy Spirit—the ordo salutis, as it is
called—to be an aspect of union with Christ. Whereas in the
Confession justification is the first of the blessings of
salvation, followed by adoption, sanctification,
perseverance, and assurance, the Catechism treats them all
as aspects of our union and communion with Christ in grace
and glory (65–90). Obviously, the members of the Assembly
saw no discrepancy in these two perspectives. They
understood them as complementary, not competitive. The
divines were hardly schizophrenic in their theology.
Edward Morris makes the point very clearly that union
with Christ undergirds justification by faith. He points out
that pardon itself is not enough for salvation—for there is
still the sinner who remains corrupt. Hence, “nothing but his
union with Christ through faith can render him worthy of
such cordial acceptation before the throne of the Father.” So
God by his Spirit does not infuse righteousness into
regenerate souls so as to make them instantly holy; he does
not treat them as holy by imputing faith to them, or
evangelical obedience in any form; but he accounts and
treats them as holy by virtue of their union with Christ
established through faith. In support he cites the Augsburg
Confession, the Formula of Concord, the Second Helvetic
Confession, the Scots Confession, the Thirty-nine Articles,
and the Irish Articles.182
The divines are treading here the path previously trodden
by Calvin. We cited him as advocating the imputation of the
righteousness of Christ in justification. In his Institutes he
does so again in direct connection with union with Christ. In
refuting the extreme Lutheran Osiander, he says:
Therefore, that joining together of Head and members, that indwelling
of Christ in our hearts—in short, that mystical union—are accorded by
 us the highest degree of importance, so that Christ, having been
made ours, makes us sharers with him in the gifts with which he has
been endowed. We do not, therefore, contemplate him outside
ourselves from afar in order that his righteousness may be imputed to
us but because we put on Christ and are engrafted into his body—in
short, because he deigns to make us one with him. For this reason,
we glory that we have fellowship of righteousness with him.183

From another angle, in his commentary on 1 Corinthians

1:30 Calvin remarks that justification and sanctification are
distinguishable, but yet “those gifts of grace go together as
if tied by an inseparable bond, so that if anyone tries to
separate them, he is, in a sense, tearing Christ to pieces.”
Tony Lane has compared them to two legs of a pair of
trousers.184 Paul, Calvin states, ascribes to Christ alone the
fulfilment of all—righteousness, holiness, wisdom, and
redemption.
WLC 70, like the Confession, describes justification as an
act of God’s free grace to sinners. In this it is an aspect of
union with Christ in grace. In union with Christ our sins are
pardoned and our persons accepted as righteous. This is
only due to the perfect obedience and full satisfaction of
Christ imputed, received by faith alone. The nuance the
Catechism brings is that it is received in union with Christ. In
the background is Christ as “a publick person” who
represents his people. His perfect obedience was exercised
on their behalf, his sufferings on behalf of the elect. It would
be tempting to see here also some of the dynamic aspects
of union with Christ that are present in the NT, but as far as
I can see there is no specific evidence that this was
discussed. Indeed, the care with which the debates on the
Articles sought to safeguard justification from the Roman
Catholic position, together with the denial of any
instrumental role for imparted grace, leads in the opposite
direction.
So much is borne out by Q. 71. Here justification is said to
be of free grace, although Christ made full satisfaction to
God’s justice. This is so, first, since God accepts the
fulfillment of his law from a surety; second, because he
himself provided the surety; this surety was, third, his own
Son; fourth, he requires nothing from them for justification
but faith; this in turn, fifth, is his gift. The Catechism brings
together law and grace, and shows clearly how the full
provisions of the law are fulfilled in a way by which God’s
grace is clearly dominant. Man had sinned, breaking God’s
law and incurring guilt and condemnation. Christ the Son, in
mercy, stepped in, took the place of his elect, fulfilled the
law, bore its penalty on their behalf. Thus the claims of
God’s justice were completely discharged, and in this way
his people are delivered from their dire natural condition
and given a new status, invested with the righteousness of
Christ. Moreover, all this is grounded on Christ’s being fully
man, one with us through his incarnation, and thus our head
and representative. Furthermore, not only was all that he
did done for us, but because of our union with him, we are
in him in all that he did. Union with Christ is no more
incompatible with forensic justification than justification is
incompatible with sanctification. This undermines Torrance’s
caricature of Westminster as conveying a harsh legal view
of God and salvation, which he could do only by ignoring the
WLC.
For the rationale for this we could cite the passages
already mentioned, such as Ephesians 1:3–14, where Paul
unfolds the entirety of salvation as received in Christ. More
specifically, at the climax of his discussion of justification in
Romans 4, he states that Christ was “delivered up for our
offenses and raised for our justification” (v. 25). As Christ on
the cross died to sin (Rom. 6:1f.)—in our place, on our
behalf, and as one with us—so his resurrection, his public
vindication by the Father, was in our place, on our behalf,
and as one with us. Consequently, we died to sin in the
death of Christ and rose to newness of life in his
resurrection.
 Classic Reformed Theology
We have already seen how Zanchius presents the point
that Christ was chosen and predestined to be head of the
elect. This means, Zanchius continues, that all spiritual
blessings, such as Paul intends in his comprehensive
statement in Ephesians 1:3, are received by us precisely
and exclusively in union with Christ our head. This includes
justification:
Christ, as man and mediator, was before all of us chosen and
predestined to be the head of all the predestined, that is, the whole
church. Consequently, it means that now through Christ and on
account of Christ the Mediator we are in reality blessed with all
spiritual blessings in the heavenly places, called, justified and
glorified: thus also we were from eternity foreknown by the Father,
loved, chosen and predestined to calling, justification, and
glorification in Christ the mediator as in our head.185

Hence, before the foundation of the world we were

predestined to this justification in Christ: those who now are
justified are so through and on account of Christ.186 Indeed,
all the good things we possess, outside of us or in us, are in
Christ, and only in Christ.187
Amandus Polanus also connects justification with election
and affirms that both are equally to be understood as
aspects of our union with Christ. In election God from
eternity gave to Christ those to whom he willed to have
mercy and to give eternal life. This entailed their adoption
as sons in Christ, their justification in Christ, and their
glorification.188 So we are regenerated and justified through
the same decree in which we were elected (per eundem &
electi sumus ad vitam aeternam).189
Heinrich Heppe lists a number of representative
theologians who also made the same connection.190 He cites
John Henry Heidegger, who wrote in 1696 that those God
implanted in Christ are regarded by the Father as though
they possessed all that Christ had done and suffered, and
that those united to Christ are partakers in the
righteousness Christ secured by his blood; and Hendrik van
Maastricht, who affirmed in 1714 that those united to Christ
are regarded as righteous by God and that for those who are
in Christ, Christ is said to have been made righteousness by
God. That these statements cannot be taken as implying the
Roman Catholic doctrine of justification on the ground of the
righteousness of Christ imparted to us is obvious. No such
controversy surrounded their views. Rather, the
righteousness is alien to us, for as Paul stated, Christ is
made to us righteousness from God (1 Cor. 1:30).191
Rowland Stedman (1630?–73)
Stedman considered union with Christ to be foundational
to all the covenant blessings given in Christ, as WLC 65–90
did.192 On justification, he affirms that “without union with
him, there can be no justification through the blood, nor
clothing with his righteousness for acceptance with the
Lord.”193 Our righteousness is in Christ; therefore, we must
be in him in order to partake of his righteousness. He cites
Ephesians 1:6–7 to the effect that acceptance and
redemption are in Christ.194 In order to be justified, due to the
infinite holiness of God, we must produce a perfect
righteousness. “God doth not pronounce men righteous
when they are not; but first he maketh them righteous, and
then receiveth them as such, and pronounceth them to be
such.”195 In other words, Stedman is denying that
justification can ever be a legal fiction. But since the fall, it
has not been possible for man to be just before God, except
with the obedience and sufferings of Jesus Christ, the
Mediator.196 The point is that we cannot be pardoned and
accepted by God until that righteousness is ours and is
made over to us. This is done by imputation, by which God
reckons the righteousness of Christ to his people as if it
were their own, and accounts to them Christ’s sufferings
and satisfaction as if they had suffered and made
satisfaction themselves.197 Moreover, no one “can have the
righteousness of Christ imputed to them, but only such as
are in Christ; such as are united to him, and made one with
him; for, Sirs, Union is the very ground of imputation.”198
Stedman points to the relationship between Adam and the
race. Adam’s sin would not have been laid to our account
unless we had been legally and by imputation in Adam, “so
we cannot have the obedience of Christ made over to us
and reputed as ours; but first in order of nature we must be
in him.”199 Therefore, for Stedman, union with Christ is an
indispensable necessity for justification to take place.
Furthermore, in no way does it undermine the gratuitous
nature of justification, since it is the righteousness of Christ
that alone avails. It is not the union with Christ that justifies
but the union with Christ. The making righteous that
Stedman mentions is not due to the imparted grace of the
Holy Spirit, but it is the righteousness of Christ that, by
virtue of union with him, is really, truly, and actually ours.
In Contrast to Rome and Lutheranism
From this it should be clear that union with Christ cannot
undermine justification only by faith. The classic Reformed
statements bring both together. On the one hand, they
differ from a purely external justification as is seen in
Lutheranism. In this construction, union with Christ is
excluded, for it follows justification as its effect. Justification
is entirely outside ourselves, a forensic decision affecting
the individual. It is the absolute center of the gospel, if not
the gospel itself. On the other hand, the Reformed oppose
the Roman Catholic doctrine in which we are held to be
justified on account of the righteousness of Christ infused
into us by the grace of the Holy Spirit. This is a conflation of
justification and sanctification and roots justification in
something God does within us. Hence, for Rome justification
is not by faith alone but by faith working through love,
works of evangelical obedience contributing to our
justification. This was anathema to the Reformed; as I have
argued elsewhere, no one at the Westminster Assembly
gave this a moment’s approval.200 Union with Christ, as the
Reformed understand it, neither entails nor implies that the
grace of God within us is the instrumental means of our
justification. It is Christ who justifies, not our faith, nor
anything in us, even if that is due to the work of the Spirit. It
is by our union with Christ that we benefit from his
righteousness; and it is exclusively through faith, which
looks away from ourselves to Christ, that we receive it.201
Recent Proposals
Space prevents me from interacting at length with recent
discussions of the relationship between union with Christ
and justification. In large measure, this is because the
purpose of this book is to present a picture of how I
understand union with Christ to relate to the broader
theological context. In considering recent discussion on this
matter, this purpose would be lost, since there are a number
of points of contention in these proposals and one could not,
as a result, avoid being preoccupied by different agendas.
At a later date we may be able to discuss them.202
Summary
(1) Union with Christ is based on Christ’s being our
covenant head and is established by his sharing our nature.
(2) Since he is our head and representative, who shares
our humanity, all that he did in his earthly ministry was
done as a substitute and representative.
(3) Yet our union with Christ goes much further than this.
Since he shares our nature, and since the Holy Spirit unites
us to him, all that he did and does is in union with us. He
took our place under the wrath of God, while we take his
place as sons of the Father. He is the captain of the team of
which we are members. When the captain scores the
winning goal in the final minute of stoppage time, the whole
team participates in the captain’s actions.
 (4) This union is the ground of our whole salvation,
justification included. We receive a right status before God,
since we are incorporated into the Son of God himself. All
that he did is ours.
We were and are considered by God to be in Christ at the
point he acted.

FIVE

Union with Christ and Transformation

 Not only does our union with Christ have external aspects,
but it also transforms us from within. When Christ died and
rose from the dead, we died and rose with him, and so our
status and existence was dramatically changed. Since,
following Christ’s ascension, the Holy Spirit was sent to
bring us to spiritual life and indwell and renew us, our
participation in Christ’s death and resurrection is vitally
dynamic and transformative. These two elements are
inseparable.203 This follows from who Christ is and what he
has done. He, the Son of God incarnate, alive from the dead
as our Mediator and Savior, was publicly vindicated by the
Father in his resurrection. We share, by grace, his status as
the Son who achieved our salvation. With that status comes
his risen and indestructible life, which is made ours by the
Holy Spirit.204
Biblical Texts
We saw, in Ephesians 1:3–14, how Paul explains that our
whole salvation is to be understood as in union with Christ.
He does not stop there. In Ephesians 1:15f., he prays that
the power of God seen in Christ’s resurrection would be at
work in the life experience of those united to him. God
raised Jesus from the dead, something that only he could
do. It was tantamount to a new creation. Moreover, he
raised him to the place of highest authority, far above all
the angelic powers, far above the entire creation, so that he
might be all in all. Paul asks the Father that this same power
would be displayed in the Ephesian believers, that they
would experience the same power that raised Christ from
the dead and exalted him as Lord. Their union with Christ is
a real and dynamic experience. Elsewhere Paul describes
the resurrection of Christ as effected by the Father through
the Holy Spirit (Rom. 8:10–11). This experience of
resurrection from death in sin to sitting with Christ in the
heavenly places (Eph. 2:1–7) flows from the same
engagement of all three persons of the Trinity as when
Christ was raised at the first Easter. The Father raises us in
union with Christ the Son, effected by the Holy Spirit.
Paul also refers to the ongoing process that follows. In 2
Corinthians 3:18, he writes that we are being transformed
into the image of God. Christ himself is the image of God (2
Cor. 4:4; cf. Col. 1:15). We are being changed to be like the
glorified Christ, the second Adam. This happens gradually
and progressively, “from one degree of glory to another.”
Glory is that which belongs exclusively to God; it is closely
connected with the image of God. It happens as we behold
“as in a mirror the glory of the Lord.” The context refers this
to the risen Christ. The One who changes us, transforming
us into the image of the glorified Christ, is “the Lord, the
Spirit,” who in the previous sentence is inseparably
identified with the risen Christ (vv. 17–18). Indeed, Jesus had
taught that the principal ministry of the Holy Spirit is to
testify of him. Once again, we see the whole Trinity engaged
to make us like Christ. Union with Christ is not only extrinsic,
for it has deeply personal effects. We are not only united
with Christ in the sense that what he has done we have
done because of our being one with him. Being united to
Christ, we are also in the process of being made to be like
him. When he returns, “we shall be like him, for we shall see
him as he is” (1 John 3:2).
Union with Christ in his death and resurrection also has a
present impact on the life experience of Paul in his apostolic
ministry. He experiences the death of Christ in his body as
he suffers in union with him. The persecutions, the rejection,
the imminence of death on so many occasions display his
sharing the sufferings of Christ on behalf of the church (2
Cor. 1:8–11; Phil. 1:12–26; Col. 1:24f.). At the same time, he
also experiences the life of Christ and the power of his
resurrection in the midst of these sufferings (2 Cor. 4:7–18).
Nor does he limit this to his own account, despite his unique
role as an apostle. On the contrary, this is something in
common with regular Christian experience. He presents
these things in an inclusive sense, in the first-person plural,
setting before his readers his own experience as a model
and an encouragement to others in their own struggles.
While he focuses on public ministry, it is, by extension,
relevant to all who are united to Christ by the Holy Spirit
through faith. We will return to this theme in chapter 6.
Sanctification in Its Primary Sense as Spatial
At root, sanctification is a spatial concept. It entails being
purchased by Christ and so being the property of God. We
have been transferred from the domain of darkness to the
kingdom of God’s beloved Son (Col. 1:13). We have been
redeemed—bought with a price—and so we are not our own
(1 Cor. 6:19–20). Therefore, we have been separated from
sin and the world and belong specifically and particularly to
God (Rom. 6:1–23). We belong to God in Christ—all that he
did and does is for us, and we are with him and in him. In
this sense, sanctification is definitive; it has already taken
place in Christ by the power of the Holy Spirit. Because
Christ died, we have died to sin in union with him. Since he
rose from the dead, we have risen to newness of life in
him.205 By the power of the Holy Spirit, this is a dynamic
reality as well as an objective fact.
Sanctification in Its Ethical Sense
Sanctification also has an ongoing element. This is its
most commonly recognized aspect. It is most evident in
ethical terms. The letters of Paul are replete with injunctions
about how we are to live. The possibility that we can do this,
at least in part, is due to the Holy Spirit’s work within us,
transforming us into the image of God (Eph. 4:24; Col. 3:10).
The ethical characteristics Paul enjoins he also describes as
“the fruit of the Spirit” (Gal. 5:22f.). Here again, the dynamic
of union with Christ comes to present expression in the life
experience of believers. Christ has risen, never again to
submit to death. So we, in union with him, are no longer
subject to the domain of sin and death, and so grow “more
and more” (as WCF 13.1 puts it) in conformity to Christ by
the inward work of the Spirit through the means of grace
that God has provided: the ministry of the Word, the
sacraments, and prayer (WSC 88).
Union with Christ and the Ordo Salutis
In recent years, there has been much discussion of how
union with Christ relates to the ordo salutis (“order of
salvation”) adopted by Reformed theology since the
seventeenth century, a tool for understanding analytically
the way in which we become Christians and remain in the
faith. The various elements have been related to each other
in a logical manner, reflecting what are perceived as the
biblical parameters that govern them.
Usually, effectual calling and regeneration are placed first.
Calling is the powerful action of the Father drawing us from
death to life in Christ. Typically, it embraces the whole
process of what in popular terms is called conversion,
whatever form that may take. Regeneration is the hidden
action of the Holy Spirit in bringing us from death in sins to
life, making us a new creation (2 Cor. 5:17). There are
various explanations of how these two elements are related:
some consider that calling has priority; others think
regeneration comes first.206 A slight complication is that John
Calvin terms the whole reception of salvation on our side as
regeneration.
Faith, justification, and adoption are all seen as happening
at the start of the Christian life. Faith, as a gift of God, is a
consequence of regeneration. This is counter to Arminianism
and all forms of semi-Pelagianism, which hold that fallen
man retains the ability to believe the gospel with assistance
from divine grace after he has taken the first step. In
contrast, Reformed theology maintains that fallen man is
dead in trespasses and sins and so has no ability of himself
to bring himself to spiritual life. It requires a work of God to
raise the dead, and this is done by the Spirit in
regeneration. The newly regenerate person will then
respond in faith to the gospel and be justified on the basis of
the work of Jesus Christ. Simultaneously with justification,
he or she will become a child of God, adopted into his family
and so enabled to call God “Father” (Rom. 8:15–16; Gal.
4:6). Justification is legal and juridical; adoption is legal, too,
but with a permanent filial outcome.
Sanctification follows, lifelong, buttressed by
perseverance. We are “kept by the power of God through
faith” (1 Peter 1:5). There is responsibility on our part, to
persevere in faith. The power for this comes from God. So
we grow in the grace and knowledge of Jesus Christ
throughout the course of our lives, through temptations,
sufferings, and all kinds of trials. Hence, the term
perseverance of the saints is appropriate; it is those who are
sanctified who persist, come what may. Finally, glorification
occurs at the resurrection and the return of Christ, when we
are finally brought to the destiny that God has planned for
us from eternity, transformed into the image of God in
Christ.
This ordo salutis—effectual calling, regeneration, faith,
justification, adoption, sanctification, glorification—or some
such arrangement comes to expression in a document such
as the WCF, from chapters 10–18. The problem is that union
with Christ does not seem to fit into it very easily. Indeed,
John Murray, in his book Redemption Accomplished and
Applied, included a chapter at the very end where he
indicated that it was difficult to decide how to handle the
matter.207 In fairness to the Westminster Assembly, it
considered the entire ordo salutis to come under the
umbrella of union and communion with Christ in grace and
glory (WLC 65–90). In so doing, it recognized that union with
Christ is not one aspect of the process of salvation but is the
overall context in which all aspects are to be seen.
 Influenced by the biblical theology of Geerhardus Vos,
Richard B. Gaffin Jr. has raised questions about the ordo
salutis. He has cautiously suggested the possibility that it
needed recasting. This is in view of Paul’s insistence that the
center of the biblical revelation of salvation is the death and
resurrection of Christ. Our union with him in those epochal
events, viewed in the eschatological sense that Paul gives
them, should shape our soteriology, Gaffin suggests.208
Gaffin has not intended to undermine the doctrine of
justification only by faith, but rather to see the order of
salvation in a manner compatible with the Pauline view of
redemptive history. Others, influenced by Gaffin, have
voiced similar proposals.209
While Gaffin’s concerns are important ones—and this
book, from a different perspective, stresses the centrality of
union with Christ—it would be a mistake to abandon the
concept of the ordo salutis. Certainly, Gaffin does not
advocate this. That each element of salvation is received in
Christ does not negate a relationship between these
constituent elements. Even if all these facets are received,
in principle, simultaneously in a single act, there are still
connections and relative priorities that they sustain to each
other. There are elements at the start of the Christian life
(regeneration, saving faith, justification, adoption,
sanctification in its definitive sense), allowing for the fact
that each has continuing significance and reality. Some
aspects of salvation exist mainly in an ongoing way
(perseverance, sanctification in its progressive sense,
adoption or, better, the sonship that results from adoption).
Other elements come into play only at the return of Christ
(the resurrection of the body, glorification), while the rest
are completed or fulfilled at that point. Yet even here the
ultimately final and eschatological aspects of salvation have
a present reality, even as those that are largely associated
with the commencement of Christian experience are fulfilled
only at the end. Thus Paul writes of our having been
glorified, using the aorist tense in Romans 8:30. The hymn
writer Isaac Watts expressed it well when he wrote in
“Come, We That Love the Lord”: “The men of grace have
found glory begun below; celestial fruits on earthly ground
from faith and love doth flow.”
The Holy Spirit has been given as an earnest of the final
redemption (2 Cor. 1:21–22; Eph. 1:13–14).210 We have
reflected this interrelationship by discussing union with
Christ in regeneration, faith, and justification in chapter 4
before considering union with Christ in sanctification,
adoption, and glorification here. We will conclude by
examining union with Christ in our death and resurrection in
the chapter that follows. The fact that union with Christ is
paramount, far from requiring that we dispense with the
ordo salutis, preserves and enhances it by pointing to its
integrating feature. The divines at Westminster knew this in
the seventeenth century when they combined a logical or
orderly ordo salutis in WCF 9–18 with the same topics
considered as aspects of union and communion with Christ
in grace and glory in WLC 65–90.211 Moreover, it is at least
open to question whether we are simply to follow precisely
the same pattern as Paul did. He was not the only biblical
author.
Union with Christ and Theōsis
Here it may be helpful to reflect on the different ways in
which union with Christ from regeneration to glorification
has been understood in the Eastern and Western churches.
As in some plant forms, cross-fertilization—in this case, of
ideas—can be a way to growth and advancement. Recent
years have seen an increased interest in the theology of the
Eastern church. This has been due to the growing exposure
of Orthodoxy in the Western world and to a stream of
conversions from Protestantism, largely of those
disenchanted by the triviality of much evangelicalism.212
Central to the Orthodox view of salvation is the doctrine of
theōsis.213 Whereas Protestantism in general and the
Reformed churches in particular have focused on matters
such as the atonement and justification, couched largely in
forensic terms and centered on the beginning of Christian
experience, the Eastern preoccupation from its earliest days
has been on the ongoing and eschatological transformation
of the Christian by the Holy Spirit. In the second century,
Irenaeus pointed the way, while Athanasius followed him
with his celebrated statement concerning the incarnation of
Christ: “He became man that we might become God.”214
An idea such as this sounds alarming to Western
Protestant ears. But it has usually been misunderstood.
Reformed commentators have frequently considered theōsis
to entail the pagan notion of apotheōsis, humanity being
elevated to divine status, undergoing ontological change.
Such an idea would carry with it an inevitable blurring of the
Creator-creature distinction, foundational to the whole of
biblical revelation. In other words, it has been seen by
Protestants as man’s becoming God in the sense of being
changed into the essence of God; this would be a
contradiction of the Christian faith. It would negate the
classic teaching of the church on the person of Christ,
regarding which Eutyches was rejected as a heretic because
his claims submerged the humanity of Christ.
These perceptions of the Eastern teaching on theōsis are
misleading. Sometimes, it is true, there are grounds for
Reformed misgivings. More typically, especially in the
Alexandrian teaching of Athanasius and Cyril, theōsis
encompasses under one umbrella what in Reformed
theology is understood to occur in the entire movement of
God’s grace in transforming us into his image in Christ:
regeneration, sanctification, and glorification combined. In
Eastern Christianity, this is seen as one seamless process.
The Doctrine of Theōsis in Athanasius and Cyril of
Alexandria
 There were two main strands on this matter in Eastern
Christian thought. The first of these, exemplified in Origen
and Gregory of Nyssa, moves closer to the idea of
apotheōsis. In this line of thought, there is a generic human
nature that was created by God and is now divinized.
Salvation entails being absorbed into God, individuals losing
their identity as they are merged into this deified
humanity.215 But another approach was adopted at
Alexandria by Athanasius and Cyril. With these two, humans
remain humans while deified. They are not merged into God
in such a way as to lose their humanity; theōsis does not
mean becoming God in terms of being. Nor, on the other
hand, is it simply communion with God’s attributes (or
energies, in the terms of Gregory Palamas), for this would
leave us with an impersonal view of salvation. It is, rather,
union and communion with the persons of the Trinity. This is
achieved in our sharing by grace the relation to the Father
that the Son has by nature, thus retaining both personal and
human identity.216 It is with this second line of thought that
we will interact, since it provides some insights and
produces clarifications that may be helpful for our
understanding of what union with Christ does and does not
entail.
First, we need to ask what Athanasius actually meant
when he wrote that sentence, “He [Christ] became man that
we might become God [autos huiopoiēsen, hina hēmeis
theōpoiēthōmen].” Norman Russell writes that when
Athanasius makes comments such as this, “it is either to
emphasize the glorious destiny originally intended for the
human race, or to explain that the biblical references to
‘gods’ do not encroach upon the uniqueness of the Word
made flesh.”217 This follows from the uniqueness of the
incarnation. The assumption by Christ of human nature into
personal union underlies this whole reality. The Son made us
sons of the Father and deified man by becoming man
himself (autos huiopoiēsen hēmas tō Patri, kai etheoipoiēse
tous anthrōpous genomenos autos anthrōpos).218 For
Athanasius, by becoming man and receiving a human body,
the Son deified that nature in himself. This he did by uniting
the nature of man with the nature of God in himself in one
person in his incarnation. So first of all is the theōsis of the
human nature of Christ by the Son in the incarnation. Since
from the moment of conception it was taken into personal
union by God the Son, the assumed humanity was made
capable of union with God. The Logos received a human
body so that, Athanasius writes, having renewed it as its
Creator, he might deify it in himself and thus bring us all
into the kingdom of heaven in his likeness (hina en heautō
theiopoiēsē). The union was of this kind: he united the
nature of the Godhead with the nature of man so that our
salvation and deification might be made sure. In other
words, Athanasius is arguing that the humanity of Jesus
Christ, body and soul, was given the grace of being capable
of everlasting personal union with the eternal Son of God.219
If this were not so, there could have been no incarnation.
This, the theōsis of Christ’s humanity, is the foundation of
our own. It is vital to note here that Athanasius does not
mean that Christ’s human nature ceased to be human. This
could hardly be the case; he says that Christ became man,
while he was the staunchest defender of his deity.
Athanasius did not intend to say that in becoming man,
Christ ceased to be God. Therefore, when he states that we
might become God, he cannot mean that we cease to be
human, nor that Christ’s humanity was not real humanity.
What Athanasius does mean is that all things receive the
characteristics of that in which they participate. Hence, by
participating in the Holy Spirit, we become holy; by
participating in the Logos, we are able to contemplate the
Father.220 This, we may add, follows the principle that a
person becomes increasingly like the object that commands
his or her worship. Idolaters become like their worthless
idols (Ps. 115:4–8; Rom. 1:19–23), so in worshiping the Holy
Trinity we become like Christ and eventually will be exactly
like him according to our humanity (2 Cor. 3:18; 1 John 3:1–
2). From this, Athanasius continues to maintain that we are
participants in Christ and God (legometha metochoi Christou
kai metochoi theou).221
Athanasius’s main form of expression is metochoi
(“partakers”). What does he mean? Russell points out that
he normally couples it with an explanatory synonym so as to
avoid possible misunderstanding: “Adoption, renewal,
salvation, sanctification, grace, transcendence, illumination,
and vivification are all presented as equivalents to
deification. Although the concept itself is not controversial,
Athanasius may well be intending to exclude any possibility
of misunderstanding.”222 He expands the notion of theōsis,
moving the emphasis away from immortality and
incorruption to the exaltation of human nature through
participation in the life of God. In Russell’s words,
“deification is certainly liberation from death and corruption,
but it is also adoption as sons, the renewal of our nature by
participation in the divine nature, a sharing in the bond of
love of the Father and the Son, and finally entry into the
kingdom of heaven in the likeness of Christ.”223
With Cyril there is a development beyond Athanasius. For
Cyril, we have a closer relationship to the whole Trinity,
since he recognized strongly the indivisibility of the three
persons in the one identical being of God.224 Hence, in
commenting on John 14:23, he states that the Holy Spirit is
able to make us participants in the divine nature, since the
Father, the Son, and the Spirit are one.225 Participation is the
key term throughout for Cyril, in keeping with the frequency
with which he refers to 2 Peter 1:4, “partakers of the divine
nature.”226 Only the Son is God by nature; we are children of
God by participation.227 Cyril approaches the matter
theologically rather than mystically; we share in the life of
Christ because Christ is “in us” and we are “in Christ.”228 His
Christology stressed the unity of Christ. The eternal Word or
Son is the subject of all Christ’s actions. The humanity,
which is complete—body and soul—is the humanity of the
Word. Therefore, everything Jesus did was done by the
eternal Son of God; Christ as the divine Son is the agent of
redemption.229 His work of salvation is put into effect through
the Holy Spirit, bringing about a dynamic relationship
between us and God through the Spirit in Christ with the
Father.230 The incarnate Christ unites within himself the
human and divine; he is united to God the Father because
he is God by nature, and on the other hand he is united to
human beings because he is truly human.231 From our side,
we are being transformed in the Eucharist. The Eucharist is
filled with the energy of Christ, and so, when we participate
in it, we are being changed, recovering the image and
likeness of God.232
Russell sums up the Alexandrian teaching on theōsis:
In summary, the Alexandrians used the metaphor of deification to
indicate the glorious destiny awaiting human nature in accordance
with the divine plan of salvation. The fundamental “moment” is the
deification by the Logos of the representative human nature he
received at the Incarnation. This has implications for individual human
beings. The believer can participate in the deified flesh of Christ—the
Lord’s exalted humanity—through baptism, the Eucharist, and the
moral life. Such participation leads to deification, not as a private
mystical experience but as a transformation effected within the
ecclesial body.233

Even in the strand of Eastern teaching exemplified by

Maximus the Confessor, Russell concludes that he “is
anxious to exclude both a Eutychian fusion of the divine and
the human and an Origenistic ascent of the pure intellect to
an undifferentiated assimilation to Christ. Deified human
beings become god in the same measure that God became
man, but although penetrated by divine energy they retain
their created human status.”234
Biblical Support for Theōsis
 The overall biblical and theological context for our
participation in the divine nature has been unfolded
throughout the course of the book. If we are looking for
specific biblical passages to support it, we could include
everywhere that draws attention to the compatibility
between God and man, to the incarnation, to Pentecost and
the indwelling of the Holy Spirit, and to the transformation
of believers into the image of Christ. In a number of
passages, however, the theme comes to the surface in
pronounced ways. Probably the first that springs to most
minds is 2 Peter 1:3–4:
His divine power has granted to us all things that pertain to life and
godliness, through the knowledge of him who called us to his own
glory and excellence, by which he has granted to us his precious and
very great promises, so that through them you may become partakers
of the divine nature. (ESV)

Through his precious and very great promises we become

sharers of the divine nature (theias koinōvoi phuseōs)—this
Peter presents as the goal of our calling by God. He has
called us “to his own glory.” Our destiny as Christians is to
share the glory of God. It recalls Paul’s comment that “all
have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Rom. 3:23).
Our proper place is to share God’s glory; by sin we fell short
and failed to participate in his glory, but in and through
Christ we are restored to the glory of God as our ultimate
destiny. Glory is what belongs distinctively and peculiarly to
God. We are called to partake of what God is. This is more
than mere fellowship. Fellowship entails intimate interaction
but no participation in the nature of the one with whom such
interaction takes place. Peter’s language means that this
goes far beyond external relations. It stops short of sharing
in the being of God. There is an actual participation in the
divine nature.235 We will explore further what this may mean
shortly.
John, in John 14:16ff., records Jesus’ teaching that the Holy
Spirit, on his coming at Pentecost, “will remain with you and
shall be in you.” In the presence of the Spirit, the
paraklētos, Jesus himself was to be present (vv. 16–17). He
then declares that for those who love him and keep his
word, “my Father will love him and we shall come to him
and take up our residence with him” (v. 23). The word monē
means “a place where one may remain or dwell”236 and
conveys the idea of permanence.237 The coming of the Holy
Spirit is, in effect, the coming of the entire Trinity. The
Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit take up residence with
the one who loves Jesus. This residence is permanent—the
three remain with the faithful. It is of the greatest possible
intimacy—the three indwell the one who loves Jesus. The
faithful thus have a relation with the Trinity that is far, far
closer than they enjoy with other human beings, no matter
what relationship they may have with them. This goes
beyond fellowship to communion (or participation) and is
strictly a union, a joining together that is unbreakable.
Further, in 1 John 3:1–2, John writes:
See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be
called children of God; and so we are. . . . Beloved, we are God’s
children now, and what we will be has not yet appeared; but we know
that when he appears we shall be like him, because we shall see him
as he is. (ESV)

The Father’s love is such that we now share the relation to

him that his Son has. We are now the children of God in
Christ. Moreover, at his return, we will be transformed so as
to be like Christ the Son. We will see him in his glory. We will
share his glory. We will be in union with him.
Paul describes the Christian life as lived “in Christ” from
beginning to end. This is clear in Ephesians 1, where the
whole panorama of salvation from eternal election via
redemption by the blood of Christ to our future inheritance
is received in union with Christ. In 2 Corinthians 3:18 he
writes of believers’ being transformed from one degree of
glory to another by the Spirit of the Lord. This surpasses the
experience of Moses, whose face glowed after communing
with Yahweh at Mount Sinai (2 Cor. 3:7–11).238
We refer to these few passages, but the whole tenor of
Scripture points to such union. God has made us for this. He
created us in Christ, the image of the invisible God.
Following our sin, and the Son’s redemptive work, we are
being remade in the image of Christ. The Trinity created us
with a capacity to live in him, as creatures in and with our
Creator. The incarnation proves it. If it were not so and could
not be so, then Jesus Christ—God and man—could not be
one person, for the difference between Creator and creature
would be so great that the incarnation would not be
possible.
There are two decisive moments in this great and
overwhelming sweep of God’s purpose for us. First, in the
incarnation the Son takes into personal union a single
human nature. Second, the Holy Spirit comes at Pentecost
and indwells or pervades myriads of human persons. There
are clear differences here that reflect the differences
between the persons of the Trinity. The Son unites a single
human nature, while with the Spirit countless human
persons are involved. With the Son there is a personal
union, whereas the Spirit pervades or indwells us. These
were the principal themes of chapters 2 and 3.
The Spirit, at Jesus’ baptism, rested on him and led him in
his subsequent faith, obedience, and ministry. In union with
him, we are united with the Spirit who rests on him. The
idea of indwelling denotes permanence, for he comes to
remain in us forever. Yet the word could connote a certain
incompleteness, as in the case of a liquid poured into a
bucket, the bucket itself remaining unaffected, since the
liquid merely fills the empty space. Pervasion, on the other
hand, complements the image of indwelling by pointing to
the idea of saturation, of thoroughness. Once more, this
does not take away or diminish our humanity. After all, Jesus
is fully and perfectly man—the most truly human man—and
as such he is the Christ (the Anointed One) on whom the
Spirit rests, directing him throughout the course of his life
and ministry. Rather, pervasion by the Holy Spirit
establishes our humanity.239 He makes us what we ought to
be. He frees us from the grip of a sinful, fallen nature and
renews us to be like Christ. This is what it means to be
human.240 Well does Dumitru Staniloae comment when he
affirms that only the Holy Trinity ensures our existence as
persons, and that it is only because God is triune that
salvation can occur.241 Salvation not only reveals that God is
triune but also proceeds from that reality.
In Nicolaus Cabasilas’s words, as Christ flows into us and
is blended with us, so he changes us and turns us to
himself.242 As Panayiotis Nellas comments, “The essence of
the spiritual life is represented clearly by St. Paul’s
statement, ‘It is no longer I who live but Christ who lives in
me’ (Gal. 2:20), provided that we take this statement in a
literal sense.” In fact, “the true nature of man consists in his
being like God, or more precisely in his being like Christ and
centered on Him.”243 In this, man’s nature assumes the form
of the deified humanity of Christ. This takes place not
through the destruction of human characteristics but
through their transformation.244
This is not pantheism, a breakdown of the Creator-
creature distinction. It should not be understood to mean
union with the essence of God. Nor is it some form of
mixture of the divine and human, as advocated by some
Eastern religions, in which both are like ingredients merged
into an ontological soup. Rather, our humanity is not only
preserved but enhanced. As Christ’s humanity was not
absorbed in the incarnation but retained its distinct
integrity, so the Christian remains human. This union, not of
nature but of grace, is so close that even our bodies are
temples of the Holy Spirit (1 Cor. 6:19).
Again in Cabasilas’s words, union with Christ “is closer
than any other union which man can possibly imagine and
does not lend itself to any exact comparisons.” This is why,
he says, Scripture does not confine itself to one illustration
but provides a wide range of examples: a house and its
occupants, wedlock, limbs and the head. Indeed, it is not
possible to form an accurate picture even if we take all
these metaphors together. For example, the limbs of Christ
are joined more firmly to him than to their own bodies, for
the martyrs laid down their heads and limbs with exultation
and could not be separated from Christ even so far as to be
out of earshot of his voice. In short, this union is closer than
what joins a man to himself.245 Again, the children of God are
closer to Christ than to their own parents. Separated from
our parents, we survive; separated from Christ, we would
die.246 Cabasilas urges constant meditation on Christ as a
result of this, and has an extended series of meditations on
the Beatitudes from a Christological perspective.247
This is a microcosm of the redemption of the whole
created order. Christ, in his incarnation, took into union a
centrally important part of this order. At the parousia the
whole creation will be transformed and suffused with the
glory of God. At the heart of all this is the redemption of the
church and its own transformation in union with God. This
does not mean that there is any possibility of sinless
perfection in this life. Instead, it must be seen in tandem
with the continued necessity of repentance and in
conjunction with obedience to the commandments of God,
participation in the life of the church, its ministry of word
and sacrament, love to others, and care for the poor. It can
no more conflict with justification than can sanctification
and glorification, for it comes from the sheer grace of God
as a priceless gift. There is a legal dimension to our
salvation—God is righteous and salvation is in accordance
with his law—and there is also a transformational
dimension.248
How Far Was This Part of the Heritage of the Western
Church?
Following Adolf von Harnack, it has been thought that this
was an exclusively Eastern emphasis, alien to the Western
church, which focused more heavily on the atonement and
justification. Recent scholarship has undermined this thesis.
Gerald Bonner has drawn attention to the theme in
Augustine. Augustine, in sermon 192, echoes Athanasius
and also refers to theōsis in his commentary on the Psalms,
considering it to be an act of God’s grace—by adoption, not
generation—for it is the exact equivalent in Augustine’s
mind to adoption as sons.249 In his sermon on Psalm 82 (81 in
the original, following the accepted structure of the Psalms
at the time), Augustine expounds these ideas. We were born
to mortality, we endure infirmity, we look for divinity, for
God wishes not only to give us life but also to deify us
(Gerimus mortalitatem, toleramus infirmitatem,
exspectamus divinitatem. Vult enim Deus non solum
vivificare, sed etiam deificare nos). God made man, God was
made man, and God will make us men gods. The Son of God
was made the Son of Man that the sons of men might be
made sons of God (Filius Dei factus est filius hominis, ut
filios hominum faceret filios Dei). This does not mean,
Augustine continues, that we undergo a change of
substance. It is of a different manner, appropriate to
creatures in contrast to the Creator.250 The “gods” in this
psalm are not gods by nature but by adoption and grace.
There is only one true God, who is eternal, and who deifies.
We worship God, who makes us gods.251
Anna Williams considers that the theme is present in
Thomas Aquinas and compares his thought on the matter to
that of his Eastern near-contemporary Gregory Palamas. In
both cases, Thomas and Gregory agreed not only on the
idea that salvation consists in becoming participants in the
divine nature, but also on the theological factors that
surround it. Both stringently maintain the distinction
between Creator and creature, which they insist can never
be breached. Humans remain human and are not changed
into something other than what they are. Moreover, theōsis
is—by definition—a gift from God. Only he can make us to
share his nature. This of itself demonstrates that it is an act
of grace, unearned and undeserved.252 In Aquinas’s case, it is
part of a larger overall treatment of sanctification, the other
parts having captured the attention of Western theologians.
But “the West has no grounds for rejecting deification, not
only because it can be found in Aquinas but also because it
figures extensively in the patristic corpus and derives
ultimately from scripture.”253 Williams continues, “East and
West may thus be said to make different uses of the idea of
theōsis, but this study indicates that at least until the Middle
Ages, one cannot characterize the differences between East
and West as deriving from two wholly divergent conceptions
of either divinization or sanctification.”254 Williams’s claims
have come under criticism from Gösta Hallonstein, who
points to a lack of clarity over what exactly Williams means
by deification and also for her equating the theme of
deification in Aquinas with the Eastern doctrine of
deification in Palamas.255
This distinction of Hallonstein’s between a theme and a
doctrine is significant when it comes to the claims of the
Finnish school of Luther interpretation that Martin Luther’s
doctrine of justification by faith included theōsis as an
integral part. This originated with Tuomo Mannermaa’s claim
that for Luther, Christ is not merely the object of faith but
also its subject. Christ is present in the faith itself. He is the
form of faith.256 Moreover, God gives himself to us in his
Word. “Faith means justification precisely on the basis of
Christ’s person being present in it as a favor and gift. In ipsa
fide Christus adest: in faith itself Christ is present, and so
the whole of salvation.”257 Here occasional comments by
Luther are taken as if they were worked out systematically
and developed to the status of constituent elements of his
thought. That Luther on occasion sought to relate the
forensic and transformational elements of salvation is hardly
surprising; since both are integral to the Bible’s teaching,
this is something that most theologians will do. But to
elevate such sporadic comments to the level of centrality in
Luther’s theology, often taken out of context, is at best
misleading.258 It is even more so when the passages are
taken from the young Luther rather than from his more
mature thought.259 Steven Ozment argued persuasively that
Luther, after 1518, showed little interest in the speculations
of the German mystics in union with God.260 Some of
Mannermaa’s critics, however, have not understood
deification in Orthodox theology either, assuming that it
entails ontological change, sharing the essence of God.
Reformed Theology on Union with Christ and
Transformation
Reformed theology has generally used the term union with
Christ to refer to this comprehensive sense of salvation,
taking the form of both forensic and transformational
elements. It is more Christocentric, in contrast to Eastern
pneumatocentrism.261 Yet since Christ and the Holy Spirit
work indivisibly and are, together with the Father, one being
from eternity, it seems to me that, accordingly, theology has
a responsibility to hold the work of Christ and the Holy Spirit
together in unbroken union. This is also eminently biblical,
since the gift of the Spirit was from the ascended and
glorified Christ (John 7:37–39; 14:16–23; 16:8–11; Acts 2:33–
36), the work of the Spirit is to testify of Christ (John 16:8–
15), and the glorified Christ and the Holy Spirit are in the
closest possible union in the thought of Paul (2 Cor. 3:17–
18).262
We will now ask how classic Reformed theology
understood the personal element of our union with Christ. In
doing this, we will take more than a sidelong glance at how
this relates to the question of our union with and
transformation to be like God.
John Calvin
We will consider Calvin’s statements chronologically, for
there is a definite change in nuance at one point in his
career. In the first edition of his Institutes, published in
1536, Calvin writes of union with Christ in terms of
ingrafting into him in baptism. Paul does not exhort us to
imitate Christ in his death and resurrection but says that
through baptism we are made participants in his death so
that we might be ingrafted in him (nempe quod per
baptismum Christus nos mortis suae fecerit participes, ut in
eam inseramur). We have the efficacy of his death and
resurrection in the life-giving power of the Spirit (simul
etiam resurrectionis, in vivificatione spiritus). Calvin cites
Titus 3:5 in reference to baptism as the laver of
regeneration and renewal. Baptism, Calvin says, is joined
with repentance and regeneration in both John the Baptist
and the apostles.263
In his Romans commentary of 1539, in dealing with Paul’s
argument in 6:5 he talks of Christ pouring his power into us,
with the result that we share in his risen life, departing from
our nature into his (in eius naturam ex nostra demigramus),
the better nature of the Spirit renewing us.264 According to
Calvin, Paul means not only conformity to Christ’s example
but that secret union through which we are joined together
with him, so that he invigorates us by his Spirit and pours
his power into us (sed arcanam coniunctionem, per quam
cum ipso coaluimus, ita ut nos Spiritu suo vegetans, eius
virtutem in nos transfundat). As the graft has the same life
or death as the tree into which it is ingrafted, so we are
partakers as much of the life as of the death of Christ (ita
vitae Christi non minus quam et mortis participes nos esse
consentaneum est).265 The word institii, which translates the
Greek sumphutoi—“united” (ESV), “be one with” (LN), “grown
together” (BDAG)—has great energia or force, Calvin insists.
Paul compares this union to a tree receiving sap from the
root. There is, however, an evident disparity, Calvin
comments, for the tree graft retains its natural quality in the
fruit that is eaten. In spiritual ingrafting, on the other hand,
not only do we derive the strength and sap of the life that
flows from Christ, but we also pass from our nature into his
(sed in eius naturam ex nostra demigramus). The efficacy of
the death and resurrection of Christ renews in us the better
nature of the Spirit (alteram quoque resurrectionis, ad
renovandam in nobis meliorem Spiritus naturam).266 Calvin
here suggests that union with Christ entails a change in our
nature. His nature, that of the Holy Spirit, replaces ours.
Christ pours his life into us by the Spirit.
In his Short Treatise on the Holy Supper of our Lord and
Only Saviour Jesus Christ (1540) and his Catechism of the
Church of Geneva (1545), Calvin if anything takes this
further. In the Short Treatise he concludes that “in receiving
the sacrament in faith . . . we are truly made partakers of
the real substance of the body and blood of Jesus Christ”
and that “the Spirit of God is the bond of participation.”267
Moreover, “to deny the true communication of Jesus Christ
to be offered to us in the Supper is to render this holy
sacrament frivolous and useless.”268 In the Catechism he
states that not only is the Lord’s Supper a testimony of
Christ’s benefits or an exhibition of such things, but in it we
are made partakers of Christ’s substance as we are united
with him (je ne doubte par qu’il ne nous face participans de
sa propre substance, pour nous unir avec soy en une vie).
This he does “by the miraculous and secret virtue of his
Spirit, for whom it is not difficult to associate things that are
otherwise separated by an interval of space.”269
The following year, in his commentary on 1 Corinthians,
Calvin reaffirms that in union with Christ we are given to
share in his substance and life. In discussing 1 Corinthians
6:15, Calvin states that the spiritual union we have with
Christ includes the body as well as the soul, so that we are
flesh of his flesh, referencing Ephesians 5:30. The hope of
the resurrection would be faint if our union with him were
not complete and total like that.270
It is in his comments on Paul’s discussion of the Lord’s
Supper in 1 Corinthians 11:24 that Calvin is most expansive.
The first thing in union with Christ is that we are united to
Christ himself; his benefits follow from the personal union
that we are enabled to share (Ego autem tunc nos demum
participare Christi bonis agnosco, postquam Christum ipsum
obtinemus). We obtain Christ not so much when we believe
he was sacrificed for us but when he dwells in us, when he
is one with us, when we are members of his flesh, when we
are joined together with him in one life and substance,
Calvin considers (sed dum in nobis habitat, dum est unum
nobiscum, dum eius sumus membra ex carne eius, dum in
unam denique et vitam et substantiam [ut ita loquor] cum
ipso coalescimus). Christ does not offer to us only the
benefit of his death and resurrection but the same body in
which he died and rose (sed corpus ipsum, is quo passus est
ac resurrexit). That body is really (realiter) and truly (vere)
given to us in the Supper, so that it may be health-giving
food for our souls. Calvin draws to his clinching conclusion:
“I mean that our souls are fed by the substance of his body,
so that we are truly [ut vere unum efficiamur cum eo] made
one with him; or, what amounts to the same thing, that a
life-giving power from the flesh of Christ is poured into us
through the medium of the Spirit, even though it is at a
great distance from us, and is not mixed with us [nec
misceatur nobiscum].”271
Hence, for Calvin union with Christ comes to particular
expression in the Eucharist. Here we are fed with the body
and blood of Christ. This is not corporeal, as Rome and the
Lutherans held in very different ways, but is effected by the
Holy Spirit. Christ has ascended to the right hand of God.
His body is far from us spatially. But the Spirit unites things
separated by distance, however great. In so doing, he
enables us to feed on the glorified humanity of Christ. Until
1546, Calvin has not hesitated to say that we receive
Christ’s substance in union with him, seen in the Supper. He
has even been prepared to state that we pass from our
nature into his.
 Two years later, in 1548, Calvin writes further on the
theme in his Ephesians commentary. In dealing with the
passage in chapter 5 where Paul compares the marriage
relationship to that between Christ and the church, Calvin
claims again that in union with Christ he communicates his
substance to us. We grow into one body by the
communication of his substance (ita nos, ut simus vera
Christi membra, substantiae eius communicare et hac
communicatione nos coalescere in unum corpus). In saying
this, Paul testifies that we are of the members and bones of
Christ (Paulus nos ex membris et ossibus Christi esse
testatur). So, Calvin argues, in the Supper Christ offers his
body to be enjoyed by us and to nourish us to eternal life
(corpus suum in Coena fruendum nobis exhibet, ut sit nobis
vitae aeternae alimentum).272 On verse 31, Calvin states that
“such is the union between us and Christ, that in a sense he
pours himself into us [se quodammodo in nos transfundit].
We are bone of his bone because, by the power of his Spirit,
he engrafts us into his body, so that from him we derive life
[Spiritus virtute nos in corpus suum inserit, ut vitam ex eo
hauriamus].”273 We note the quodammodo—“in a sense”
Christ pours himself into us. This alerts us to the possibility
that Calvin is aware he is using language in a certain
metaphorical manner, seeking to express in intelligible
terms what transcends explanation. So much is evident
when, in reaching verse 32, he acknowledges that this “is a
great mystery . . . No language can do it justice . . .
Whatever is supernatural is clearly beyond the grasp of our
minds.”274
This element of qualification surfaces again in Calvin’s
celebrated comments on 2 Peter 1:4, written in 1551, as it
does in his writings after this date. In that chapter, we recall
that Peter has said that God has given us his exceedingly
great and precious promises, in order that, inter alia, “we
might become partakers of the divine nature.” Calvin
recognizes the superlative nature of this gift, especially
seeing the depths to which we had sunk in sin: “The
excellence of the promises arises from the fact that they
make us partakers of the divine nature, than which nothing
more outstanding could be imagined” (quo nihil
praestantius cogitari potest).275 Indeed, “it is the purpose of
the gospel to make us sooner or later like God; indeed, it is,
so to speak, a kind of deification” (Notemus ergo hunc esse
Evangelii finem, ut aliquando conformes Deo reddamur; id
vero est quasi deificari, ut ita loquamur). He goes on to say
that “nature” here does not mean “essence” but “kind”; we
do not participate in the being of God but in his attributes,
his qualities, for his nature refers to what he is like rather
than who he is (caeterum naturae nomen hic non
substantiam sed qualitatem designat).276
Garcia is wrong to rule out deification in Calvin—quasi
deificari points in that direction. It stems from an apparent
lack of familiarity on his part—in keeping with most other
Calvin scholars—with the Eastern view of deification.277 As
we saw, Calvin’s exposition here is quite compatible with
what Athanasius or Cyril wrote. On the other hand, the quasi
indicates a certain ambivalence by Calvin. From 1548, his
comments are usually surrounded by a phrase such as “so
to speak” (ut ita loquor), “in a certain way” (quodammodo),
or the like. It is possible, of course, that Calvin was not
entirely aware of the doctrine of theōsis in the Greek
patristic tradition himself. While he mined the works of the
fathers, he was dependent to a great extent on anthologies
and used citations more as weapons in debate than as tools
of a dispassionate historical theologian, if there is such a
beast.278
On the other hand, Garcia may be right in suggesting that
Calvin’s thought on union with Christ underwent a
development in the 1550s. He does not think it changed
substantially but rather was enriched.279 The qualification in
his 2 Peter commentary is one matter. A new reticence
seems to emerge in his commentary on the Gospel of John,
as well as in correspondence with Pietro Martire Vermigli,
and while he develops his teaching on the Holy Spirit as the
bond of union with Christ in his 1559 edition of the
Institutes.
In the commentary on John, written in 1553, Calvin
stresses that union with Christ transcends our mental
capacities and is known only in faith, as the Holy Spirit
pours into us the life of Christ. He refers to “the secret
efficacy of the Spirit.” We cannot know by idle speculation
what is the sacred and mystic union between us and him
and again between him and the Father (qualis sit sacra et
mystica inter nos et ipsum unio, qualis rursum inter ipsum
et Patrem), for the only way to know is when he pours his
life into us by the secret efficacy of the Spirit (quum vitam
suam arcana Spiritus efficacia in nos diffundit). This is the
experience of faith.280 Later, in commenting on John 17:21,
he seems to contradict what he said in his Ephesians
commentary and before. In this context, he denies that
Christ transfuses his substance into us; instead, we receive
his life, communicated to us by the Holy Spirit (Unde etiam
colligimus nos unum cum Christo esse, non quia suam in
nos substantiam transfundat, sed quia Spiritus sui virtute
nobiscum vitam suam et quicquid accepit a Patre bonorum
communicet).281 This argues that Calvin actually backtracked
after 1550. Whereas earlier he said on multiple occasions
that we share in the substance of Christ, now he appears to
deny it.
Two years later, in 1555, Calvin entered into an important
exchange of letters with Pietro Martire Vermigli, the Italian
Reformer, formerly based in Strasbourg and Oxford but now
at Zurich. Vermigli wrote to Calvin on March 8 on “the
communion we have with the body of Christ and the
substance of his nature” (de communione quam habemus
cum corpore Christi atque substantia ipsius naturae),282 since
it is a matter of great importance that the manner of our
union with Christ be understood.283 The chief benefit of the
incarnation was that Christ chose to have communion with
us in flesh and blood. Of itself, however, this is a very weak
connection, since it entails communion by Christ with the
whole human race. Something more is needed for
reconciliation, a solid basis for forgiveness of sins and
justification, which is provided by the Holy Spirit, who makes
us capable of immortality and conforms us more and more
to Christ by breathing faith into us. This is union with Christ
effected by the Spirit through faith.284 This involves no
change in our nature. We do not change into the body and
flesh of Christ (Non quod substantiam suae naturae
abiiciant, et re ipsa in corpus atque carnem Christi
transeant), for it is a spiritual communion by which we are
renewed from regeneration to glorification (vero contingit
per Christi spiritum quo ab ipsa regeneratione ad speciem
eius gloriae innovamur).285 There is a third form of
communion, which actually precedes this spiritual one. It
occurs when we believe and Christ becomes our head and
we his members.286 This happens secretly (haec illa est
arcana communio qua illi dicimur inseri).287
On August 8, 1555, Calvin replied, indicating his full
agreement with Vermigli.288 While this concord extended to
Vermigli’s threefold classification, Calvin focuses on the
intermediate element of union, by which we are joined to
Christ as our head. He writes of the communion in which we
are joined together with him in one body (et facit ut in unum
cum ipso corpus coalescamus).289 We are made his
members, and life flows to us from the head; there is no
other way we can be reconciled by his sacrificial death than
that by which he is ours and we are one with him (Neque
enim aliter nos Deo mortis suae sacrificio reconciliat, nisi
quia noster est ac nos unum cum ipso).290 This union is
stronger and closer than merely fellowship (consortis) or
affinity, association, or partnership (societatis), for it is a
sacred unity “by which the Son of God ingrafts us into one
body and communicates to us all his things. So we drink life
from his flesh and blood, so that it is not inappropriately
called nourishment.”291 Calvin precludes “a crass mixture of
substances,” for it is enough that Christ is in heavenly glory
and that life from him flows to us. It is absurd to think that
Christ and we become one essence. On the other hand,
Calvin recognizes, union with Christ is beyond our
understanding (Quomodo id fiat, intelligentiae meae modulo
longe altius esse fateor).292
In the following year, 1556, Calvin wrote his Secunda
defensio piae et orthodoxae de sacramentis fidei, adversus
Joachimi Westphali calulmnias. Here he wrote that the soul
has no less communion in the blood of Christ than wine with
the mouth when we drink (nec minus sanguinis
communionem anima percipiat, quam ore vinum bibimus).293
In 1559 came the final Latin edition of Calvin’s Institutes.
Here he made plain the connection between the work of
Christ and that of the Holy Spirit. “First, we must understand
that as long as Christ remains outside of us, and we are
separated from him, all that he has suffered and done for
the salvation of the human race remains useless and of no
value to us.” All that Christ possesses “is nothing to us until
we grow into one body with him.” It is through “the secret
energy of the Spirit, by which we come to enjoy Christ and
all his benefits,” for “the Holy Spirit is the bond by which
Christ effectively joins us to himself.”294 For Calvin, Christ’s
work benefits us only when we are united to him. Union with
Christ is the root of salvation, justification and sanctification
included. This occurs through faith, but faith itself is the fruit
of the Holy Spirit’s work. So the Spirit unites us to Christ.
First, the Father bestowed the whole fullness of the Spirit on
Christ in a special way, so as to gather his people to the
hope of the eternal inheritance.295 Faith is the principal work
of the Holy Spirit,296 occurring in our being united to Christ:
“For we await salvation from him not because he appears to
us afar off, but because he makes us, ingrafted into his
body, participants not only in all his benefits but also in
himself.”297 If we were to contemplate ourselves, it would be
sure damnation. “But since Christ has been so imparted to
you with all his benefits that all his things are made yours,
that you are made a member of him, indeed one with him,
his righteousness overwhelms your sins; his salvation wipes
out your condemnation.” So “we ought not to separate
Christ from ourselves or ourselves from him.” As a result,
“Christ is not outside us but dwells within us. Not only does
he cleave to us by an indivisible bond of fellowship, but with
a wonderful communion, day by day, he grows more and
more into one body with us, until he becomes completely
one with us.”298
In terms of justification, this means that we are righteous
only in Christ.299 In this sense, union with Christ has priority
to justification by faith. It is only as we are united with Christ
that God accounts us righteous.
Therefore, that putting together of Head and members, that
indwelling of Christ in our hearts—in short, that mystical union—are
accorded by us the highest degree of importance, so that Christ,
having been made ours, makes us sharers with him in the gifts with
which he has been endowed. We do not, therefore, contemplate him
outside ourselves from afar in order that his righteousness may be
imputed to us but because we put on Christ and are engrafted into his
body—in short, because he deigns to make us one with him. For this
reason, we glory that we have fellowship of righteousness with
him.300

Precisely because righteousness is imputed to us because

we are one with Christ—brought about by the Holy Spirit
through faith—it is Christ’s righteousness that is ours. “You
see that our righteousness is not in us but in Christ, that we
possess it only because we are partakers of Christ.”301 Since
“all his things are ours and we have all things in him, in us
there is nothing.”302 As soon as we are engrafted into Christ
through faith, we are made sons of God, heirs of heaven,
possessors of life and all the merits of Christ.303 Thus, we
receive both justification and sanctification in union with
Christ, both at the same time, for Christ cannot be divided
into pieces. We cannot possess Christ without at the same
time being made partakers in his sanctification.304 We have
no hope of our future inheritance unless we have been
united to Christ. The elect are so united to Christ that they
have been called to participate in one God and Christ (in
unius Dei ac Christi participationem etiam vocati).305
Therefore, according to Calvin, in the sacraments the
benefits are conferred by Christ alone through the Holy
Spirit, who makes us participants in Christ (per Spiritum
sanctum, qui nos facit Christi ipsius participes).306 Through
baptism, the laver of regeneration, Christ makes us to share
in his death that we may be ingrafted in it.307 So baptism is a
token of our union with Christ.308 Christ by sharing in our
human mortality made us partakers in his divine
immortality, raising our corruptible flesh to glory and
incorruption (quum humanae nostrae mortalitatis participes
factus nos divinae suae immortalitatis consortes fecit).309
This is applied to us through the gospel but even more
clearly through the sacred Supper, in which the soul most
truly and deeply becomes partaker of Christ. So his life
passes into us and is made ours (ut vita sua in nos
transeat), just as bread taken as food imparts vigor to the
body.310 Calvin explains how this happens:
We can explain the nature of this by a familiar example. Water is
sometimes drunk from a spring, sometimes drawn, sometimes led by
channels to water the fields, yet it does not flow forth from itself for
so many uses, but from the very source, which by unceasing flow
supplies and serves it. In like manner, the flesh of Christ is like a rich
and inexhaustible fountain that pours into us the life springing forth
from the Godhead into itself. Now who does not see that communion
of Christ’s flesh and blood is necessary for all who aspire to heavenly
life?311

This communion is achieved by the Holy Spirit. Even

though it seems unbelievable, since Christ’s flesh is
separated from us by such a great distance, “the secret
power of the Holy Spirit towers above all our senses” and
“truly unites things separated by distance” in the Supper.312
The bond of this connection is, then, the Spirit of Christ,
“with whom we are joined in unity” and who “is like a
channel through which all that Christ himself is and has is
conveyed to us.” It is the Spirit who imparts to us the
communion of his flesh and blood. “On this account,
Scripture, in speaking of our participation with Christ,
relates its whole power to the Spirit.”313
Finally, in his treatise opposing the Lutheran Tileman
Heshus, The clear explanation of sound doctrine concerning
the true partaking of the flesh and blood of Christ in the
Holy Supper, written in 1561, Calvin sums up and expands
his thesis. He says, “When I say that the flesh and blood of
Christ are substantially offered and exhibited to us in the
Supper, I at the same time explain the mode, namely, that
the flesh of Christ becomes vivifying to us, inasmuch as
Christ, by the incomprehensible virtue of his Spirit,
transfuses his own proper life into us from the substance of
his flesh, so that he himself lives in us, and his life is
common to us.”314 The mode of communication Calvin claims
is “that Christ by his boundless and wondrous powers unites
us into the same life with himself, and not only applies the
fruit of his passion to us, but becomes truly ours by
communicating his blessings to us, and accordingly joins us
to himself, as head and members unite to form the body. I
do not restrict this union to the divine essence, but affirm
that it belongs to the flesh and blood.”315 He argues that
“this flesh of ours which he assumed is vivifying for us, so
that it becomes the material of spiritual life for us,” while it
is a mystery that transcends our mental powers.316 There is
no need for Christ’s body to undergo any change of place,
“since by the secret virtue of the Spirit he infuses his life
into us from heaven . . . since the efficacy of the Spirit
surmounts all natural obstacles.”317 This is so because Calvin
“[asserts] a substantial communion” and discards only a
local presence as in the Lutheran claim.318 This is nothing
additional to the gospel; rather, the Supper seals what is
offered in the gospel.319
Carl Mosser has argued that Calvin teaches a doctrine of
deification.320 He was strongly opposed by Jonathan Slater,321
but from assumptions akin to Nestorianism. Slater considers
that Calvin treats the humanity of Christ as effectively
autonomous; this precludes any idea of deification. In this,
Slater’s interpretation of Calvin is suspect. His citations of
Calvin are limited to the Institutes. Moreover, the theological
parameters on which he bases his claims are unsustainable.
His Calvin is quasi-Nestorian, and it appears that Slater
shares these thoughts himself. Nestorius had no doctrine of
deification, of course, since he held the two natures of Christ
apart. Slater treats the human nature of Christ by itself and
argues that Calvin does so, too. The price for this is the
jeopardizing of the unity of the person of Christ. It indicates
that objections to theōsis stem largely from a correct stress
on the Creator-creature distinction at the expense of their
compatibility.322 This tendency yields a Nestorian Christology
in which deity and humanity are kept separate, the unity of
Christ’s person—and the incarnation itself—undermined,
and so his achievement of redemption jeopardized.323
It seems to me that until around 1550 Calvin had some
strong language about our participation in the substance of
Christ’s flesh, Christ pouring his life into us by the Holy
Spirit, and wrote of our nature being changed. He states on
several occasions that Christ pours his substance into us.
After that time, he seems to qualify those terms and to
distance himself from the idea that somehow Christ’s
substance was in any way transmitted to us by the Holy
Spirit in the Eucharist. Yet this does not diminish his
recognition that this is a mystery that transcends our
capacities to fully grasp. Nor does it undermine his point
that we are united with the saving humanity of Christ; it is a
difference of tone rather than substance. During this time
he was faced by controversies with a range of Lutherans,
particularly Osiander with his claim that we are righteous by
the divine righteousness of Christ, indwelling essentially in
us.324 Ultimately, Calvin’s most frequent imagery becomes
that of the Holy Spirit uniting us to Christ through faith, and
so the life of Christ—the risen and ascended Christ—is given
to us to nourish us, particularly in the Lord’s Supper.325 At the
root of this is that Christ has become one with us in the
incarnation, and consequently his flesh receives the life of
the Godhead poured into it. From this we receive life in
union with him. Together with his concern for the integrity of
the humanity of Christ, this leads him to couch his language
on themes such as deification in such terms as quasi (“a
kind of”), ita ut loquor (“so to speak”), and quodammodo
(“in a certain manner”). In this he opposes the Lutheran
view of the communicatio idiomatum (“communication of
idioms”) in which attributes of Christ’s deity are transmitted
to his humanity. This appeared to blur the distinction
between the two and, in the eyes of the Reformed,
undermined the humanity. He was not dealing with the
Eastern position; in fact, it was the Lutherans who were the
innovators, and Calvin was closer to the East than many
have realized. I suggest that the pressure from Lutheran
apologists and the need to conciliate Zurich after 1548 may
have tempered his language, rather than substantially
altering his doctrine.
Amandus Polanus (1561–1610)
We now turn our attention to a significant theologian from
the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries. Polanus
was more a consolidator of Reformed doctrine than an
innovator and, for that reason, is representative of how
Reformed theology stood at that time.326 Among his works is
a handbook of doctrine, Partitiones Theologicae, first
published at Basel in 1586. It was followed in 1609 by a far
more extensive and detailed work, the Syntagma
Christianae Theologiae. In the Partitiones, Polanus takes a
much weaker position than Calvin, but in the Syntagma he
develops his thought on union with Christ to a much greater
extent, approaches Calvin’s teaching, and in some ways
goes beyond it.
In the Partitiones, Polanus stresses the elevation of the
humanity assumed by Christ in the incarnation. The effects
of the personal union in Christ are twofold: the exaltation of
the assumed human nature to the highest and ineffable
dignity (rank) and the communication of idioms (exaltatio
naturae assumtae ad summam & ineffabilem dignitatem &
communicatio idiomatum). This exaltation entails the honor
that the person of Christ communicates to the assumed
nature; it is exalted above all angels and men. It consists in
personal union with the Logos (quia humana natura in
unitatem personae filii Dei est assumta: ita ut sit caro
propria aeterni Filii Dei, Heb.2.16). Hence, the Son raises the
assumed humanity to the highest status precisely in the
personal union that took place. Moreover, the Holy Spirit
gave the greatest fullness of gifts that it is possible for a
human nature to have, not only in number but in
excellentisimus gradae. In this, Polanus recognizes, as the
Greeks and Calvin did, the effect of the incarnational union
on the assumed humanity of Christ.327
Polanus connects our own union with Christ with the
sacraments, as Calvin did. In communion with Christ, he
gives us eternal life. Polanus produces a range of biblical
terms to describe this union. It is said to be a joining, a
union, a coalescence, ingrafting in Christ, eating the flesh
and drinking the blood of Christ (in the Lord’s Supper), being
brought under one head, our joining together in one body
under one head, cleansing with the blood of Christ,
vivification, our being raised from the dead, and our
placement in heaven as one with Christ.328 Polanus considers
that communion with Christ embraces justification and
regeneration, adoption, and the liberties of the sons of
God.329 When he discusses the Lord’s Supper, however, he
focuses on our participation in the benefits of the covenant
of grace—reconciliation, justification, regeneration—so that,
in effect, we feed on justification rather than Christ
himself.330
In the Syntagma (1609), he goes much further. Polanus
writes of communion with Christ as a union in which Christ
and we are really and truly joined and remain so forever
(Communio ipsiusmet Christi, est unio ipsius nobiscum, qua
nos sibi vere & realiter copulavit ut ipse in nobis & nos in
ipso maneamus in sempiternam).331 This has a threefold
form: first, in nature, in the incarnation; second, in grace, in
the elect; and third, after this life, when we are present with
the Lord.332 The first occurs through the assumption of our
nature in the unity of Christ’s person. The second is through
Christ’s assumption of our persons, not in one person with
him but in grace (per assumtionem personarum nostrarum
non quidem in unam eum ipso personam: sed in gratiam).
He is the head; we are members of his body, of his flesh and
bones. So we partake of his divine nature, as Peter says (ex
carne eius, & ex ossibus eius: adeoque in participationem
naturae ipsius divinae, ut Petrus loquitur. 2 Petr.1. vers.4).333
The third form is the assumption of our nature with him in
eternal glory. There is a progression from the first to the
second to the third, from nature to grace to glory. Each
stage is the cause of the next.334 The efficient cause is the
most blessed and holy Trinity. This includes the Son’s
assumption of our nature through Mary, the Father daily
uniting his elect to his Son by the Holy Spirit and, at the last
day, raising us from the dead through the Son by the Holy
Spirit.335 The ministerial cause of our union with Christ is the
gospel and saving faith.336
Polanus then discusses what our union with Christ actually
is. It is not imaginary, for it is true and real (vere ac realis).
It is also indissoluble.337 It is here that Polanus goes as far as
Calvin ever went, if not further. This union, he says, is
essential. We exist in our earthly bodies but with the divine
nature of Christ dwelling in us. According to his humanity he
is in heaven, but the same Holy Spirit who remains in us and
in him joins us together, no less than the members of our
bodies are joined. Consequently, this union consists not only
in the communication of gifts but also of the substance of
Christ. The union, then, is substantial, actual, and corporeal.
The manner of union is, of course, spiritual. But it is
substantial and corporeal in terms of the subjects united,
since it is true substance and nature, his body and our
nature, that are related or akin (affine); and we are truly
joined to the substance and both natures of Christ and thus
to his body.338
Polanus goes on to explain how we are united to Christ
according to both natures. Citing 2 Peter 1:4, he points out
that Christ dwells in us according to his divine nature and
makes us conformable to him (ipse sua Deitate reipsa in
nobis habitat & nos sibi conformes redit. 2 Pet.1.4).339 We
also have communion with Christ according to his human
nature. We participate according to nature—our nature is to
be conformed to Christ by sanctification of the Holy Spirit.
We also participate in the Holy Spirit, who joins us to the
Lord. (Qui agglutinatur Domino, unus cum eo Spiritus est.)340
The Holy Spirit unites us to Christ in the sacraments.341 The
sacramental union is spiritual, with a conjunction between
the sign (signum) and the thing signified (res). The bread
and wine we see with bodily eyes; the body and blood we
see with the eyes of the soul, which is faith.342 The body of
Christ is in heaven corporeally. To us it is on the earth (in
terra), spiritually present by means of the Holy Spirit, who
dwells in Christ and in us and unites us to the head as
members (mediante Spiritu suo in illo & in nobis habitante).
The body of Christ is absent in loco but most present to us
by our union with him, through the Spirit of Christ, who
dwells in him and in us (sed praesentissimus est nobis
unione nostri cum illo, per habitantem in eo & in nobis
Christi Spiritum).343 Consequently, we are united to Christ
through the Holy Spirit and through faith.344 Therefore, the
bread and wine are signs not only signifying but also
exhibiting (Unde panis & vinum non tantum significativa
signa sunt, sed etiam exhibitiva). Therefore, Christ with and
in these signs exhibits his body and blood and thus truly
gives the Holy Spirit to his disciples. The manner of the
presence of the body and blood of Christ is therefore
sacramental and spiritual.345 Polanus therefore argues for a
substantial union with Christ that comes to expression
especially in the Lord’s Supper.
Rowland Stedman (1630?–73)
A book of major significance for union with Christ, and its
personal dimensions, was written and published in 1668 by
Rowland Stedman, one of the ministers ejected from their
livings in 1662. Stedman points to the biblical imagery that
expresses this union. First, there is a natural analogy,
between the head and members of the body. In this sense,
Christ is the head of his church, an intimate union; as the
members of the body are animated with the same soul, so
the church is given life by the Spirit of the Son. Second,
there is a corporal analogy, that of the vine and the
branches. As the branches depend on the sap that rises
through the plant, so Christ is the root from which all is
derived, the whole depending on him for life. Third is a
conjugal analogy, as of a husband and wife. The marriage
union means the two become one flesh. In turn, Christ and
the church are united as one spirit, as Paul says in
Ephesians 5:31–32. Fourth comes an artificial analogy of a
building and its foundation, such as Paul makes in 1
Corinthians 3:9–11. Christ in this sense is both the doctrinal
and personal foundation of the church and its members.346
Note that in each of Stedman’s analogies the respective
parts retain their particular distinctiveness. The husband
and wife remain husband and wife, while becoming one
flesh. The branches remain branches, while being part of a
much larger whole. The head remains the head and the
members remain members, while joined in one united
organism. In fact, the parts could not be what they are if
detached from that to which they are united and that which
gives them their distinctive identity as parts of a whole.
Moreover, we can suppose from these analogies that
because they point to a greater reality, our union with Christ
is greater, closer, and more secure than any of them taken
singly or together.347
Union with Christ and the Sacraments
The central affirmation of the chapter on the Lord’s
Supper in the WCF is that the faithful, or “worthy receivers,”
“receive and feed upon Christ” (WCF 29.7). They are
enabled to do this really and truly; it is no fiction, for the
sacraments are more than merely symbolic. On the other
hand, this feeding is spiritual, not corporeal, and so depends
on the Holy Spirit and requires faith on our part. The
Assembly set its face against the Roman Catholic doctrine of
the sacraments working ex opere operato, by the fact of
being performed. In keeping with the Reformed tradition,
however, the divines were equally opposed to the
Anabaptist claim that they were simply symbols and
memorials. Earlier, John Knox had strongly rebutted these
notions in the Scots Confession (1560): “And this we utterlie
damne the vanitie of thay that affirme Sacramentes to be
nathing ellis bot naked and baire signes. No, wee assuredlie
beleeve that be Baptisme we ar ingrafted in Christ Jesus, to
be made partakers of his justice, be quhilk our sinnes ar
covered and remitted.”348 Hence, for the Reformed, the
sacraments are signs and seals of the covenant of grace,
exhibiting the grace signified, which grace is conferred by
the Holy Spirit in his own time and manner to those for
whom it applies (WCF 27.3; 28.6). Baptism exhibits our
ingrafting into Christ, in regeneration, justification,
sanctification, and so on, which the Spirit confers in due
time. In the Lord’s Supper Christ gives himself for us to feed
us and nourish us to everlasting life.
This is a contrast to the objectivity of Lutheranism, in
which the sacraments are efficacious unless resisted. For
Lutherans, in the Lord’s Supper the body and blood of Christ
are held to be corporeally present in, with, and under the
bread and wine. In contrast, the Reformed insist that the
feeding is spiritual, in and by the Holy Spirit, and received in
faith. The efficacious working of the Holy Spirit is not tied to
place or time. As the WCF claims, the grace signified and
exhibited is conferred by the Holy Spirit in his own time to
those to whom it belongs—the elect. Grace is not automatic.
This is also in contrast to the neo-Zwinglianism of William
Cunningham, Robert L. Dabney, and latterly Wayne Spear.349
The sacraments are more than symbolic, although they
have symbolism aplenty. The Supper is more than a sign
and seal of the covenant of grace. It exhibits the grace of
union with Christ, from regeneration to glorification; in the
seventeenth century, exhibit was a stronger word than it is
today, carrying a connotation close to confer. Moreover, the
grace exhibited is also conferred not by the sacrament itself
but by the Holy Spirit (WCF 27.3; 28.1, 6; 29.7). The Supper
is the koinōnia of the body and blood of Christ (1 Cor. 10:16–
17).
John W. Nevin and Charles Hodge
In nineteenth-century America, John W. Nevin, when he
was on the faculty of Mercersburg Seminary from 1840 to
1853, brought these questions to the forefront when
opposing the individualism and nonchurchly direction of
American Protestantism. In particular, his book The Mystical
Presence sought to recover the Reformed doctrine of the
Eucharist. He followed in 1850 with a 128-page article in the
Mercersburg Review developing his historical argument at
length, a piece of research that stood for a century. Nevin
argued that the Reformed churches of his day had deviated
from the classic confessions, reduced the sacrament to
mere symbolism and memorialism, and viewed our
relationship with Christ in external and contractual terms
only.350
For Nevin, salvation in Christ consists of a new life, the life
of Christ located in his people, the church. Our relationship
with Christ is deep and personal, going far beyond anything
known to Adam. This mystical union is with the person of
Christ and thus with his humanity, which can never be
severed from the personal union into which it was assumed
in the incarnation. This union is not corporeal but spiritual—
yet it is nonetheless real, effected by the Holy Spirit through
faith. It comes to expression in the Holy Supper, in which we
have a real communication with the person of Christ under
the form of a sacramental mystery.351 For Nevin, our
participation in Christ entails the reception of his life, which
is expressed in the church. It is a communion with the
person of the risen and ascended Christ. It is far more than
a legal or a moral union.
Nevin was strongly influenced by the romanticism that
dominated philosophical circles from 1760 to 1830 and
affected theology for a while after. He was also impacted by
Georg Hegel, with his strongly evolutionary and
developmental aspects, having edited the second edition of
an important Hegelian anthropology in English.352 This
concatenation of inputs also influenced some of his
contemporaries, such as John Henry Newman and Charles
Darwin. This may account for Nevin’s focus on the mystical
elements of union with Christ at the expense of the
atonement, justification, and election. There is a strongly
universalizing tendency in his incarnational theology.353 His
focus was on the participatory rather than the forensic.
William Evans points to his failure to integrate these two
elements into his understanding of union with Christ.
Nevertheless, he was closer to Calvin and the Westminster
Assembly on the Lord’s Supper than many of his
contemporaries in American Presbyterianism.354
But Nevin was not alone in bifurcating the imputational
and the impartational. In a similar manner, Scottish
Common Sense Realism affected Robert L. Dabney, William
Cunningham, and Charles Hodge and led to their
bewilderment at, and distaste of, Calvin’s sacramental
theology. For them, theology must be amenable to reason.
Throughout his Systematic Theology, Hodge buttresses his
statements by repeated recourse to common sense. It is
hard to avoid the conclusion that these figures viewed with
grave suspicion any stress on those aspects of theology that
transcended the capacity of the human mind. Nevin’s open
espousal of a mystical, transcendent strain, less interested
in clear doctrinal pronouncements, was met by a rationalism
that eschewed anything that smacked of the mysterious. For
Hodge and his friends, the focus was on the forensic, on
justification and the atonement. The gospel and its
entailments were to be clear and comprehensible.355 An
unfortunate split had occurred in Reformed thought. In part,
it explains how the doctrine of union with Christ suffered
eclipse.
Ten Theses on Union with Christ and Transformation
(1) The union we enjoy with Christ is more real and more
fundamental than the union we have with members of our
own bodies. In the words of Nicolaus Cabasilas (1322–?),
union with Christ “is closer than any other union which man
can possibly imagine and does not lend itself to any exact
comparisons.” This is why, he says, Scripture does not
confine itself to one illustration but provides a wide range of
examples: a house and its occupants, wedlock, limbs and
the head. Indeed, it is not possible to form an accurate
picture even if we take all these metaphors together. For
example, the limbs of Christ are joined more firmly to him
than to their own bodies, for the martyrs laid down their
heads and limbs with exultation and could not be separated
from Christ even so far as to be out of earshot of his voice.
In short, this union is closer than what joins a man to
himself.356 Again, the children of God are closer to Christ than
to their own parents. Separated from our parents, we
survive; separated from Christ, we would die.357 Cabasilas
urges constant meditation on Christ as a result of this, and
has an extended series of meditations on the Beatitudes
from a Christological perspective.358
(2) This is not a union of essence—we do not cease to be
human and become God or get merged into God like
ingredients in an ontological soup. This is not apotheōsis.
We noted that the Eastern doctrine of deification has at its
root a determined preservation of the distinction between
Creator and creature. It opposed any suggestion that we
partake of the divine essence, since we have to do with the
energies of God. Calvin—and Polanus, too—may have
overstepped in talking of a union of substance. Yet Calvin’s
intention was correct; he wanted to stress the reality,
extent, and far-reaching effect of this union, which
immeasurably exceeds the merely symbolic. Even if we
were to suppose it to be purely symbolic, the symbols
symbolize something, and it is this something with which we
are concerned.
(3) We do not lose our personal individual identities in
some universal, generic humanity. There is no universal,
generic humanity into which we get lost as mere broken
eggs in some huge ontological omelette. In the indivisible
union of three persons in the one being of God, the eternal
distinction of each person is maintained. The union of the
Son of God with the humanity taken in the incarnation
preserves the reality and integrity of the assumed humanity.
Christ’s union with the church maintains the humanity of the
church. The Holy Spirit’s indwelling enhances rather than
diminishes our humanity. So, too, with our union with Christ:
we remain who we are; indeed, we become what God has
intended we should be.
(4) Union with Christ comes to expression in, and is
cultivated by, the Word and sacraments. It is clear that the
Holy Spirit unites us to Christ through the instrumentality of
the preaching of the Word of God. Both Peter and James
attribute the regeneration of believers to the instrumentality
of the Word. Peter states that we have been begotten again
not by corruptible seed but by the living and abiding Word of
God (1 Peter 1:23), while James considers that God in
accordance with his own will has brought us forth by the
Word of truth to be a kind of firstfruits of his creatures
(James 1:18). Both echo the insistence of Paul that his fellow
countrymen will be brought to faith through the preaching of
Christ. Faith comes through hearing and hearing through the
Word of Christ (Rom. 10:9–17). The preaching of the gospel
is, so to speak, the midwife by which the Holy Spirit
regenerates us and unites us to Christ. While the god of this
world has blinded the minds of unbelievers, the God who
created the world shines in our hearts to give the light of
salvation by his Son, and this he does as “we preach Jesus
Christ as Lord” (2 Cor. 4:4–6).359 Those who hear the voice of
the Son of God are called out of death to life, akin to a
resurrection or new creation, and so raised with Christ to
new and indissoluble life (John 5:24ff.).
John 6 portrays the reality of union with Christ in a
sacramental context. Those who eat Christ’s flesh and drink
his blood have eternal life. This is done by the Holy Spirit
(John 6:63). Jesus is not teaching cannibalism, although he
uses language that implies cannibalism and caused such
offense that large numbers left him, including many of his
disciples. The true meaning of this passage is likely to cause
great offense. It teaches the extent and closeness of the
union that Christ has with his people. Even Baptists who do
not accept a sacramental interpretation of the chapter
agree that it finds its truest fulfillment in the Lord’s
Supper.360
Robert Bruce argued that there is nothing in the Lord’s
Supper not available in the Word (the sacrament depends
on the Word to be a sacrament) but that in the Lord’s
Supper we “get Christ better.”361 As Augustine described it, it
is “a kind of visible word of God.”362 It is the point of union
covenantally and personally between Christ and his people.
(5) The body and blood of Christ are not materially,
corporeally, or physically present in the Lord’s Supper. This
was the mistake of the Roman Catholic Church, the
Lutherans never entirely escaping it. Christ is at the right
hand of the Father, qua his humanity, and so he is in one
place. Union with Christ is not corporeal but spiritual,
effected by the Holy Spirit. As WCF 29.7 puts it, the union
we enjoy is real and true, but spiritual.
As surely as we eat the bread and drink the wine, so
Christ enters our souls.363 As WCF 29.7 says, the faithful
receive and feed on Christ in the Lord’s Supper really and
truly. No amount of stress on the spiritual aspect of the
Supper, which is of course a correct stress, can ever
diminish the real and true feeding that takes place there. As
Jesus said, “my flesh is true meat and my blood is true
drink” (John 6:51–58). Or in the words of Paul, in union with
Christ we are given “one Spirit to drink” (1 Cor. 12:13). As
Bernard of Clairvaux penned in his hymn “Jesus, Thou Joy of
Loving Hearts” (c. 1150):
We taste thee, O thou living bread, and long to feast upon thee still;
We drink of thee, the fountainhead, and thirst our souls from thee to
fill.

(6) In the Lord’s Supper we are lifted up by the Holy Spirit

to feed on Christ. This is real and true, for it is communion
with the Son in the Holy Spirit and thus entails personal
access to the Father. We are given to share in the life of the
Trinity. In the Supper, the Spirit lifts us up to feed on Christ.
Since he is God, he joins things separated by distance, as
Calvin said,364 uniting those that are spatially far apart. The
Spirit and the Son are indivisible with the Father in the unity
of the Holy Trinity. Moreover, the Spirit’s distinctive work is
to glorify Christ and lead his people to him through the faith
he gives them. Indeed, Paul regards the Spirit as so close to
the risen Christ that he can call him “the Spirit of the Lord”
and “the Lord, the Spirit” (2 Cor. 3:17).
(7) We are not hypostatically united to the Son. There is
only one such union—the incarnate Christ, who remains one
person forever and ever. The indwelling of the Trinity
through the Holy Spirit (e.g., John 14:23) is different.
Whereas in the incarnation the Son has indissolubly united
himself to a human nature in one person, the Spirit indwells
countless human persons. What he does is to enhance our
humanity to be what God eternally intended it to be. In this,
Jesus Christ is the archetype and exemplar. As man, he was
led by the Holy Spirit at all times. He is the Author, Pioneer,
and Perfecter of our salvation in his incarnate life and work,
sharing our faith, our very nature of flesh and blood, our
temptations, our sufferings, our death and burial (Heb. 2:5–
18), besides our resurrection (Rom. 8:10–11; 1 Cor. 15:35–
50) and ascension.
(8) We are united with Christ’s person. This goes beyond
the indwelling of the Holy Spirit in the church and its
members, as explained by Jesus in John 14 and developed
by Paul in Romans 8 and Galatians 4. It is grounded in his
incarnation—he is forever man and so one with us according
to his human nature. In this case, the Holy Spirit unites us to
him in a spiritual union. In this union, we all retain our
distinctive identities.
The result is that we have more than fellowship with
Christ. Fellowship takes place between separate persons by
means of presence, recognition, conversation, shared
interests, and the like. Adam had fellowship with God before
the fall. Redemption has not restored us to the condition of
Adam. The incarnation has happened; the Son of God is
forever human. The outpouring and indwelling of the Spirit
has occurred and endures; the Spirit of God has taken up
permanent residence in and with those who love Christ, and
in so doing the Holy Trinity now lives in us. It goes beyond
communion. It entails union.
It is more than participation in the energies of Christ,
contrary to what Michael Horton seems to me to suggest.365
Horton considers that we have union with God in his
workings or makings. He rightly wants to steer clear of the
idea that we are united with Christ’s essence. This is similar
to the cautious approach of Gregory of Nyssa, who was
prepared to speak only of participation in the divine
energies and rarely mentioned theōsis.366 But the question
we posed earlier concerning the incarnate humanity of
Christ needs to be addressed. Was the assumed humanity
merely taken into union by the energies of God? Was it not
the person of the Son who united humanity to himself?367
The human nature of Christ was not simply united to some
of God’s attributes; if that were so, we would be left with an
extreme form of Nestorianism and would have jettisoned the
simplicity of God. This union cannot be restricted to union
with righteousness, goodness, holiness, or truth, with
abstract qualities. Nor is our union only a union with the
benefits of Christ, as if we were united with the doctrine of
sanctification. It is union with Christ.368
Since the assumed humanity of Christ participates in the
eternal Son, is sanctified and glorified in him, and since we
feed on the flesh and blood of Christ, we, too, in Christ are
being transformed into his glorious likeness.
(9) It is effected and developed by the Holy Spirit through
faith, in and through the means of grace: the ministry of the
Word, the sacraments, and prayer (WSC 88). It is churchly,
not individualistic. It is not a private experience to be
developed in isolation. It occurs in the humdrum everyday
experience of the means God has appointed, not the
superficially exciting or dramatic experiences concocted by
human ingenuity.
It is not automatic; it is through faith. There is a certain
responsibility on our part to cultivate our union with Christ.
Participation in the means of grace is essential, for it is there
that God has undertaken to meet with us, and we know that
he keeps his appointments.369 At the same time, it is not an
immanent process under our control; it is initiated and
developed by the Holy Spirit. It is supernatural; it transcends
our capacity to explain. But we can expect the Spirit to work
with and through the means he himself has appointed for
that purpose.
(10) It will eventually lead to our being “like [Christ]” (1
John 3:1–2; see also Rom. 8:29–30; 2 Cor. 3:18), for “it is the
intention of the gospel to make us sooner or later like God”
(Calvin). For the present we are “partakers of the divine
nature,” having escaped the corruption that is in the world
by lust (2 Peter 1:4). When Christ appears at his parousia,
however, we will see him as he is, in his glorified humanity,
and we will be finally and climactically transformed to be
like him, our present lowly bodies changed to be like his
glorious body (Phil. 3:20–21). Christ, as Calvin put it, “makes
us, ingrafted into his body, participants not only in all his
benefits but also in himself,” so that “he grows more and
more into one body with us, until he becomes completely
one with us.”370

SIX

Union with Christ in Death

and Resurrection
 Ultimately, our union with Christ will be brought to its
fulfillment in the future, at Christ’s return, when we will be
raised from the dead and our transformation into his image
will be complete. In short, union with Christ is to be
understood in eschatological terms. It is union with Christ in
his death, burial, resurrection, and ascension. As Lane
Tipton says, “all saving benefits of the gospel . . . are given
to believers only in terms of faith—union with the crucified
and resurrected Christ of Scripture.”371
Union with Christ in His Sufferings
Paul expresses the wish to be conformed to Christ in the
likeness of his death, sharing the fellowship of his sufferings
(Phil. 3:10):
that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share
his sufferings, becoming like him in his death. (ESV)

When he wrote this, Paul knew from experience what he

was describing. He was languishing in a Roman prison,
awaiting trial, with the possibility of execution. He did not
expect to be sentenced to death; rather, he anticipated
fruitful future ministry. In fact, he was eventually released
and enjoyed an extended period of further apostolic service
before his final imprisonment, trial, and execution. Yet Paul
could not have known of these future events at the time,
and so his condition when he wrote these words was grim.
Roman prisons were not the most appealing of places. Paul
knew that, throughout his ministry, Jesus had suffered. He
faced the militant and potentially murderous opposition of
the religious establishment. His disciples often proved
feckless and unreliable; they frequently failed to understand
what he was saying. He was confronted by sinners, by the
onslaughts of the devil and the activities of demons, and by
the sheer exhaustion of his constant labors. He was living in
a fallen world. Paul, in union with Christ, in measure shared
these sufferings. He lists a whole range of them in 2
Corinthians 11:12–33.
 Five times I received at the hands of the Jews the forty lashes less
one. Three times I was beaten with rods. Once I was stoned. Three
times I was shipwrecked; a night and a day I was adrift at sea; on
frequent journeys, in danger from rivers, danger from robbers, danger
from my own people, danger from Gentiles, danger in the city, danger
in the wilderness, danger at sea, danger from false brothers; in toil
and hardship, through many a sleepless night, in hunger and thirst,
often without food, in cold and exposure. And, apart from other
things, there is the daily pressure on me of my anxiety for all the
churches. Who is weak, and I am not weak? Who is made to fall, and I
am not indignant? (vv. 24–29 ESV)

These factors are, in some measure, common to all who

are united to Christ. He suffered because of who he is; we
suffer because we are one with him. We are called to this
(Phil. 1:29). There is the suffering that goes with being
human in a fallen world: the decay of the body, the sickness
that attends it, the process of dying, and death itself. We
face bereavement, as loved ones die, whether of old age or
suddenly in the prime of life. Tragedy, grief, frustration,
disappointment, betrayal by those we trusted, abuse from
bullies, slander from the ignorant, irrational opposition from
people in power, the shock and demoralization of
unemployment, vicious actions by those who take
advantage of us—these and many more are the common lot
of the human race in a world living in active disobedience
to, and defiance of, God its Creator.
Over and above that, Christian believers in general, and
ministers of the gospel in particular, face a further set of
sufferings that identify us with Christ in his godly anguish
and dereliction. There is opposition to our ministries,
sometimes with genuine reason but often from irrational
self-centeredness and ignorant unbelief. We face the
rejection of the gospel and, sometimes worse, complete
indifference to it. We are bombarded by temptations of
various kinds, and frequently this may meet with a positive
response from “the remnants of corruption” within. The
world, the flesh, and the devil seem to conspire against us
too often. Some may face imprisonment for their
faithfulness to Christ. Many each year are martyred. In
western Europe the price of faithfulness to the gospel may
turn out to be imprisonment or punitive financial penalties
as the church resists the demand of godless governments to
require practicing homosexuals to receive communion and
be appointed to positions of church leadership.
Paul says much the same in 2 Corinthians 4:8–12, in
relation to Christian ministry:
We are afflicted in every way, . . . perplexed, . . . persecuted, . . .
struck down, . . . always carrying in the body the death of Jesus. . . .
We who live are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake . . .
Death is at work in us. (ESV)

In all these passages Paul also highlights compensating

features. Just as we are to share in the death of Jesus in
practical ways here and now, so we will share in his
resurrection. Indeed, in part this is evident even as we
suffer. While we are afflicted, we are not crushed; we are not
driven to despair; we are not forsaken; we are not
destroyed; for the life of Jesus is manifest (now) in our
bodies (2 Cor. 4:7–12). In Romans, Paul declares the
sufferings of the present time to be insignificant in
comparison with the future glory (Rom. 8:18). Later in the
chapter in 2 Corinthians he writes of “this slight momentary
affliction,” stressing its lightness and its transitoriness in
contrast to the “eternal weight of glory” that is beyond
compare (2 Cor. 4:17). In Philippians his desire to share the
sufferings of Christ is so that he might also know “the power
of his resurrection” (Phil. 3:10). In short, there are dangers
in focusing too much on the glories that await us, if that
leads us to discount the reality of present sufferings. If we
share the glory of Christ, if we are being transformed from
one degree of glory to another, being made partakers of the
divine nature, then there is no detour around the equally
pertinent reality that we will share the sufferings of Christ.
No road to glory avoids the cross. “If we died with him, we
will also live with him; if we endure, we will also reign with
him” (2 Tim. 2:11–12). Those who reign with Christ are
those beheaded for the testimony of Jesus (Rev. 20:4).372
Union with Christ in Death and Burial
Here the locus classicus is Paul’s words of encouragement
in 1 Thessalonians 4:13–17:
But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about those who
are asleep, that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope.
For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through
Jesus, God will bring with him those who have fallen asleep. For this
we declare to you by a word from the Lord, that we who are alive,
who are left until the coming of the Lord, will not precede those who
have fallen asleep. For the Lord himself will descend from heaven with
a cry of command, with the voice of an archangel, and with the sound
of the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we
who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in
the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we will always be with
the Lord. (ESV)

Paul recognizes that it is natural to mourn the loss of

loved ones. Death is an alien intrusion into God’s creation,
the result of human sin. It is a cruel dissolution of the
human being, often preceded by a grim process of decay or
a terrible accident. Death is an unknown; we have never
experienced it and do not know exactly what lies in store for
us. It hangs over us like a threat. In that perspective,
mourning is not a sign of a lack of faith; it demonstrates our
humanity. Jesus wept at the grave of Lazarus, and bristled
with anger at the fact of death and all it entailed. Jesus was
sinless and exercised perfect faith. It was because he was
human that he wept then and was overcome with grief in
Gethsemane later (Luke 22:39–46; John 11:33–38; Heb. 5:7–
10).
But Christians are not to mourn like the rest of the world,
who have no hope. Their mourning is to be distinctly
different. For the unbelieving world, the outlook is hopeless.
It can be evaded only by placing a taboo over the subject of
death, or by treating it in a flippant and lighthearted manner
inappropriate to its grim reality. The former modus operandi
was typical of the twentieth century. The latter seems the
preferred option of more recent times, funeral services
being filled with pop songs and expressions of hope that the
deceased is looking down on the survivors.
In contrast, Christian mourning is marked by hope. Hope
for Paul is not wishful thinking. I hope the soccer team I
support, Tottenham Hotspur, will win their next ten games at
least. They may do so, but on the other hand, they may lose
at least one of them. Hope for Paul is not like that. It relates
not to uncertainty but to futurity. We expect God’s promises
to be brought to complete realization—but at some time in
the future. We await the fulfillment; we look for the
resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come.
So Christians mourn, but they do so with joyful anticipation
for the ultimate consummation of salvation in Jesus Christ.
There are good reasons why this is so. Paul provides them
in this passage. The first is that “we believe that Jesus died”
(1 Thess. 4:14). Who is Jesus? He is the eternal Son of God.
He, the Son of God, submitted himself to death, the atoning
death of the cross. God himself, the Son of God, has
experienced death according to his humanity. From within
our own nature, he has shared the experience that we will
undergo. He knows exactly what it is like. This is
stupendous. We need to consider it, meditating upon it at
length. Jesus, the Son of God, has himself gone on the path
from death through the tunnel of burial. Human death is an
experience now known to God himself.
Second, “we believe that Jesus died and rose again” (v.
14). Death was not the end. He conquered it. The Father
raised him from the dead by the Holy Spirit (Rom. 8:10–11).
There is a past triumph. This is why we can grieve with
hope, knowing that Christ has experienced death to its
fullest and has triumphed over it, rising from the dead on
the third day.
We also have confident expectation in the midst of
mourning because there is a present protection. One of the
greatest affirmations in the whole of Scripture is found here.
Paul describes believers who have died as “dead in Christ”
(1 Thess. 4:16). Union with Christ in his burial is the most
triumphant affirmation imaginable. Whatever the process
leading up to it, however sad or horrifying the ordeal, once
we have died the forces of sin and the decay resulting from
it are over. In the words of the hymn “The Strife Is O’er, the
Battle Done”: “Death’s mightiest powers have done their
worst” and are now a spent force. Our bodies are lowered
into the ground, there to putrefy, rot, and disintegrate. But
as these foul forces take their toll on our once-animated
features, now reduced to a lifeless corpse engulfed in a
disgusting stench, Paul can say that we are “dead in Christ.”
The worst efforts of sin, Satan, and all the concomitants of
death can do nothing whatsoever to alter this truth. Our
union with Christ is indestructible. No cosmic power can
touch us. We are safe in union with the One who is the
eternal Son of God.
Moreover, at the parousia the dead in Christ will be at no
disadvantage compared to those who are still alive, since
the dead will rise first and Christ will bring them with him.
The implication is that, while in the state of death, they will
be with Christ. Paul affirms this elsewhere: torn between a
desire to die and a wish to remain to serve the church, Paul
considers that if he were to die it would be “very far better”
(Phil. 1:21). The reason is that even though he would be
absent from the body, he would take up residence with the
Lord (2 Cor. 5:6–8). This is the language of emigration. As
one leaves one’s own country and goes to live in a strange
land, so we will leave the natural embodied state for the
strange land of the intermediate time, but we will
simultaneously be domiciled with Christ himself. What safer
place could there be?
This is not the main desire of Paul, for his anticipation of
the resurrection body surpasses it. In 2 Corinthians 5:1–5,
the verbs he uses for our permanent, heavenly body, which
we will receive at the resurrection, are all powerful and
emotive ones, whereas he is more reticent when it comes to
the intermediate state mentioned in verses 6–8. But the
point is that our experience of death, burial, and the
intermediate state will be in union with Christ. He has gone
there before us. We will go there in him.
Union with Christ in Resurrection and Ascension
Tipton correctly affirms that “there is no notion of
redemptive life apart from the more basic category of
resurrection life, and this resurrection life is given in terms
of union with Christ.”373 For this, we need to examine the
major treatment Paul gives to the resurrection in 1
Corinthians 15. He starts by describing the core of his
gospel, “that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the
Scriptures, that he was buried, [and] that he was raised on
the third day in accordance with the Scriptures” (vv. 3–4 ESV).
Christ’s death and resurrection are of first importance, and
it is in union with him in his death and resurrection that all
the blessings of salvation are given to us. Hence, the great
reality of justification is subsumed under the death and
resurrection of Christ, for it is in union with him that we are
justified through faith. The same applies to adoption,
sanctification, and all the other elements of the order of
salvation.
Undergirding this is the fact that Christ’s resurrection and
ours are one reality. In verses 12–19, Paul argues backward
and forward from one to the other. If the dead are not
raised, then Christ has not been raised. Conversely, if Christ
was not resurrected, neither will there be a general
resurrection in the future. Moreover, the entire gospel will
collapse, and we will have a prospect most bleak. Preaching
Christ will be a monumental waste of time, if that is so. In
short, the resurrection of Christ and our resurrection stand
or fall together.
In contrast to the hypothesis of futility, the reality is
glorious. Christ has been raised from the dead (v. 20). Paul
could point to a superfluity of witnesses. The Law requires
two or three witnesses to establish a thing; with Christ’s
resurrection there was an overflowing abundance. Paul lists
some of these witnesses in verses 8–11, hundreds of whom
were still alive when he wrote. Moreover, Christ is the
firstfruits of our resurrection. This means not only that his
resurrection is first in time, ours following in the future, but
that the two are of the same kind. The firstfruits of the
harvest are of the same nature as the whole. The first
apples are of the same type as the rest that follow; so
Christ’s resurrection is of the same nature as ours will be.
His has already happened, in A.D. 30. Ours will occur at his
coming (v. 23), before which he will have subjected all his
enemies, in fulfillment of Psalm 110.
Indeed, when we inquire about the nature of the
resurrection body, the identity between Christ’s resurrection
and ours becomes even clearer. There was, of course, an
ongoing continuity between Christ’s human body before his
death and after his resurrection. He was identifiably the
same person before and after and even bore the marks of
his crucifixion. He ate food, he conversed with his disciples,
he broke bread (Luke 24:30, 41–43, etc.). Yet there was also
a difference. He was transformed, passing through locked
doors (Luke 24:36; John 20:19, 26). Although Christ was not
present when Thomas refused to believe the disciples’
account of his appearance, when he returned eight days
later he knew exactly what Thomas had said (John 20:19–
29). He ascended to the Father (Luke 24:50–52; Acts 1:6–
11). Afterwards, appearing to the apostles Paul and John, he
was suffused in such glory that life and strength was sapped
from their bodies (Acts 9:1–9; Rev. 1:10–20). Paul unfolds
these contrasts in 1 Corinthians 15:35–49. Christ, at his
conception in the womb of Mary, received a natural body, a
body “of the earth,” descended from Adam as ours is. In the
resurrection, we will be conformed to his glorious body (cf.
Phil. 3:20–21) as the second or last Adam, “the man from
heaven” (1 Cor. 15:49). The pre-resurrection body is marked
by perishability, dishonor, weakness, for it is a natural body,
made of dust, of the earth. The resurrection body, in
contrast, is one that is imperishable, glorious, powerful,
from heaven, and described as “spiritual” or under the
direction of the Holy Spirit. The one is received from Adam;
the other is from the risen Christ (vv. 42–49).
Therefore, our resurrection bodies will be like Christ’s
resurrection body, since our resurrection and his are
effectively the same reality, separated by indefinite time.
There is something of a parallel in this to the Einstein-
Podorsky-Bell theory. Einstein postulated that the parts of a
subatomic particle, such as a prion, separated by infinite
space would behave identically. His theory was confirmed
empirically by the Bell experiment in 1964. Here the parts of
the resurrection, separated by indefinite time, behave
identically.
This conclusion is underlined by Paul’s statement in
Romans 8:11: “[Since] the Spirit of him who raised Jesus
from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Christ from the
dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through his
Spirit who lives in you.” First, the Father raised Christ from
the dead by the Holy Spirit; Christ’s resurrection was
brought about by an engagement of the whole Trinity, as in
all the other works of God. Second, Paul says that the Father
will raise us from the dead in union with Christ by the Holy
Spirit. At our resurrection there will be the same
engagement of the whole Trinity as there was when Christ
himself was resurrected. The two resurrections are identical
in theological terms as well as identical in the outcome they
produce. This is so since we have been granted to share the
same relation to the Father as the Son enjoys, since we are
in union with him, and since God treats us exactly like the
Son! Third, the same Spirit of the Father who raised the Son
from the dead, and will raise us also, actually lives within us
now! We currently experience the resurrection life of Christ
through the Holy Spirit, whom the Father has sent to indwell
and saturate us. In turn, he produces assurance of our risen
salvation, since he is the One who will raise us from the
dead in the future, as the Author and Giver of life.
At this point the whole universe should stop for half an
hour in utter amazement and wonder. What more can we
possibly say?
Christ’s resurrection, since it is paradigmatic and
definitive of ours, being of the same reality, shapes the
whole of salvation in union with Christ. In his resurrection,
Christ himself was justified, or vindicated, as the second
Adam. He had come to take Adam’s place, to undo the
damage caused by the first Adam and bring us to a goal
greater than Adam could have envisaged. Whereas Adam
succumbed to temptation and fell into sin, bringing guilt,
condemnation, and death to the entire race, Christ—in union
with us—rendered perfect obedience to the Father, and
freely suffered the penalty of the broken law on our behalf.
Again, in union with us, he was publicly vindicated by the
Father when he raised him from the dead by the Holy Spirit.
As the second Adam, in our place, on our behalf, and in
union with us, he was exalted by the Father in his ascension
to his right hand. He “was delivered up for our trespasses
and raised for our justification” (Rom. 4:25), “manifested in
the flesh, vindicated by the Spirit” (1 Tim. 3:16). Because of
the union we sustain to Christ, when he was declared to be
the Son of God with power at his resurrection—beyond all
probation as the second Adam, as Tipton puts it374—so also
are we justified in Christ only through faith and raised with
him to heavenly places.
As another example, the NT connects Christ’s resurrection
with our regeneration. This is explicit in 1 Peter 1:3, where
Peter states, “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord
Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us
to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of
Jesus Christ from the dead.” Our regeneration is through
Christ’s resurrection. His resurrection was his entrance into
his new life according to the Spirit (1 Cor. 15:42ff.). He was
resurrected in union with his people. They, in union to him,
will experience the resurrection in its fullness at his return,
but even now we are brought from death in sin to a life of
righteousness (Eph. 2:1–10). In short, our regeneration is a
new creation (2 Cor. 5:17), a resurrection from the dead. As
a new creation, we are raised with Christ, ascended with
Christ, seated with Christ in the heavenly places, where he
is, at the right hand of the Father. And this is merely the
beginning. In the coming ages we will enjoy never-ending
and perpetually unfolding kindness flowing from the
immeasurable riches of the grace of the Father in Christ by
the Holy Spirit (Eph. 2:4–7). Union with Christ is realized in
its fullness at the resurrection itself, when we will be like
Christ (1 John 3:1–2),375 for “no one has made progress in the
school of Christ who does not joyfully await the day of death
and final resurrection.”376
Baptism
Union with Christ in his death and resurrection comes to
expression in baptism. Paul can rebut possible anti-
antinomian allegations that the gospel encourages sin by
pointing to the fact that we have been baptized into Christ’s
death and raised to newness of life (Rom. 6:1ff.). The
grounds for this are that Jesus considered the cross to be his
own baptism. When undergoing baptism at the hands of
John in the Jordan and facing the Baptizer’s reluctance to
administer the rite to him, he insisted on going ahead with
it, for it was necessary to fulfill all righteousness (Matt.
3:13–15). There is general agreement that Jesus underwent
baptism at the hands of John in view of his eventual atoning
death on the cross where he fulfilled righteousness. John’s
baptism was a baptism of repentance. Jesus had no sin of
which to repent. He had no personal need to be baptized.
His submission to baptism was in a vicarious capacity, on
behalf of his people, whom he was to save from their sins
(cf. Matt. 1:21). Thus, it had a prospective force, looking
forward to the cross. Later, he explicitly identified his
coming sufferings with baptism: “I have a baptism to be
baptized with, and how great is my distress until it is
accomplished!” (Luke 12:50). At the cross there was the
unmitigated judgment of God on human sin and the
superlative demonstration of God’s grace. Baptism exhibits
both elements—death as condemnation of sin and life freely
given by God.377
In our union with Christ we share in his death and
resurrection, signed, sealed, and exhibited in baptism (cf.
WCF 27.3; 28.1, 6). Paul develops this theme in a number of
places. All who have been baptized into Christ have been
united with him in his death and resurrection (Rom. 6:3–11).
In baptism we were baptized into Christ, and so we put on
Christ (Gal. 3:27). This means that we are made part of one
body, the church, formed by the Holy Spirit. The Spirit
baptized us into the church, which Paul regards as the same
thing as being baptized into Christ: “For just as the body is
one and has many members, . . . so it is with Christ. For in
one Spirit we were all baptized into one body . . . and were
all made to drink of one Spirit” (1 Cor. 12:12–13). Baptism
comes first, the Holy Spirit efficaciously uniting us to Christ
in and through it, and thereafter we drink the Spirit—a
possible reference to the other sacrament, the Lord’s
Supper. Again Paul returns to the theme of union with Christ
in his death and resurrection, and connects it explicitly with
baptism in Colossians 2:11f. Before Paul wrote, Peter’s
gospel proclamation on the day of Pentecost included the
call for baptism and connected it to the reception of the
Holy Spirit (Acts 2:38). In view of their collective and
individual guilt, and the exaltation of Jesus, the call is for
repentance and baptism, in view of which will be given the
forgiveness of sins and the gift of the Holy Spirit.
Repentance is a gift of God; later chapters in Acts make that
clear (Acts 11:18). So, too, baptism is not seen as a human
work but as a sacrament ordained by Christ in which the
grace of the Holy Spirit is given to God’s people through
faith, effective in God’s time. Paul recalls with approval the
words of Ananias given to him after his experience on the
way to Damascus: “Rise and be baptized and wash away
your sins” (Acts 22:16). Peter writes that “baptism . . .
saves” (1 Peter 3:21). These are strong words. It should be
self-evident that they do not undermine salvation by grace
one whit. Baptism is seen as a work of God. The Spirit works
with power in and through it, but as always, his work is not
to be reduced to some automatic process; there must be an
answering faith from our side, which Paul informs us is a gift
of God given to his elect. As Tony Lane says, “this may not
accord with the view of the majority of Evangelicals today
but they should take up their complaint with the apostles.”378
When we reflect on union with Christ, right at the heart of
the gospel, we must hold to its earthiness. Creation is not
replaced by redemption. The incarnation is its root; the
resurrection of the body is fundamental. So also the earthly,
material sacraments are God’s prescribed vehicles through
which he communicates his mercies to us by the Holy Spirit
through faith; that means union with Christ.379
Union with Christ in the Consummate Kingdom
Throughout Christ’s kingdom, “which shall have no end”
(Luke 1:33), our union with Christ will continue, in unbroken
and unsullied fulfillment. There will be work to do. Christ has
been given all authority in heaven and on earth. God’s plan
is for the cosmos to be ruled by the second Adam.
Originally, the first Adam was given dominion over the
earth. He was made in the image of God. But he fell short of
God’s glory by his sin, and so the earth produced thorns and
thistles. In God’s sovereign and gracious plan, however, he
sent his Son to put things right and, in so doing, to elevate
the creation to a higher level and a greater realization than
Adam could ever have imagined. The point was that Christ,
the second Adam, is the image of God. “He is the image of
the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation,” according to
Paul (Col. 1:15). He is “the radiance of the glory of God and
the express imprint of his nature” (Heb. 1:3). He is the
image of God, in whom the light of the gospel is seen and
“the light of the knowledge of the glory of God” is to be
found (2 Cor. 4:4–6).
Thus, the author of the Letter to the Hebrews states that
God’s purpose for mankind is fulfilled in Christ. He cites
Psalm 8, which reflects poetically on the account of creation
in Genesis 1, and says:
Now it was not to angels that God subjected the coming world, of
which we speak. . . . Now in putting everything in subjection to him,
he left nothing outside his control. At present, we do not see
everything in subjection to him. But we see Jesus, who for a little
while was made lower than the angels, so that by the grace of God he
might taste death for everyone, because of the suffering of death,
crowned with glory and honour. For it was fitting that he, for whom
and by whom all things exist, in bringing many sons to glory should
make the pioneer of their salvation perfect through suffering. (Heb.
2:5–10, my translation, viewing the author’s comment on Psalm 8 as
a chiasmus)

At present we do not see man in control of the universe.

Because of sin, he has not fulfilled his mandate. But Jesus,
in our nature, is at the right hand of the Father, and he will
bring us there to share with him in his eternal rule over the
creation. In short, we will share with Christ in governing the
renewed heavens and earth. Paul could say that we will
judge the world and the fallen angels (1 Cor. 6:1–3), being
given to share with Christ in his role as the Judge at the last
day. It is one of the spiritual blessings in the heavenly places
that we have received in Christ that we will be partners with
him and in him in his government of “all things” (Eph. 1:3–
10). Calvin wrote that “the hope of the glory of God has
shone upon us by the Gospel, which testifies that we shall
be partakers of the divine nature, for when we shall see God
face to face, we shall be like him (II Pet. 1.4; I John 3.2).”380 In
the words of WLC 90:
 Q. 90. What shall be done to the righteous at the day of judgment?
A. At the day of judgment, the righteous, being caught up to Christ in
the clouds, shall be set on his right hand, and there openly
acknowledged and acquitted, shall join with him in the judging of
reprobate angels and men, and shall be received into heaven, where
they shall be fully and forever freed from all sin and misery; filled with
inconceivable joys, made perfectly holy and happy both in body and
soul, in the company of innumerable saints and holy angels, but
especially in the immediate vision and fruition of God the Father, of
our Lord Jesus Christ, and of the Holy Spirit, to all eternity. And this is
the perfect and full communion, which the members of the invisible
church shall enjoy with Christ in glory, at the resurrection and day of
judgment.

This is more than an academic question. It is greater than

life and death. How tragic if, after reading this, you—the
reader—are not united to Christ. If this is so, the outlook, in
the face of death, is—as Paul says—hopeless (1 Thess.
4:13). If you are not united to Christ and all we have said is
a purely academic exercise, please consider your situation,
believe in Christ, and serve him with all that is in you by the
help of the Holy Spirit. Scholarship, theological discussion,
bibliographical information is important—but it is far from
ultimate. There is something far greater.
If we are united to Christ, endless vistas open . . .

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Index of Scripture
Genesis
1—15, 140
1–15—11n5
1:1—11, 12, 139n9
1:1–2—9
1:2—11, 46, 58
1:2–5—9
1:3—10, 11, 12, 13
1:4—10
1:6—10
1:6–8—10
1:7—10
1:9—10
1:9–10—10
1:11–12—10
1:14–15—10
1:14–16—10
1:16—10
1:17—10
1:20–21—10
1:20–30—10
1:21—10
1:24—10
1:25—10
1:26—12
1:26–27—10, 11, 12, 13
1:27—12
1:28–30—15
2—15
2:15–17—57
2:16—15
2:21–22—15
3—16
3:8—15
3:14–19—17
3:22—11
11:7—11
12:1–3—46
17:7–8—36
Exodus
23:6–8—63
34:7—63
Leviticus
4–5—61
Deuteronomy
27:25—63
Joshua
7:1–26—58
Psalms
8—17, 39, 140
8:3–8—15
82—100
110—135
115:4–8—93
146:1—21
Proverbs
17:15—63
17:26—63
18:5—63
24:24—63
Isaiah
5:23—63
6:8—11
42:1—69n28
44:6–8—16
Jeremiah
11:4—36
24:7—36
30:22—36
31:33—36, 45
32:38—36
Ezekiel
36:27—46
Joel
2:28—45
Matthew
1:18—20
1:18–25—20
1:21—138
3:13–15—138
4:1–2—20
4:1–10—60
6:9—54
8:24—20
11:19—20
11:25–27—19
12:18—69n28
20:28—59, 60
26:26–29—60
26:39—58
27:57–66—21
Mark
6:3—20
10:45—59, 60
15:43–47—21
Luke
1:26–38—20
1:33—139
1:34–35—20, 32, 46, 58
1:41–44—46
1:67—46
2:25–28—47
2:40–52—20, 47
2:52—20, 58
3:16—47
3:22—47
4:1—47
4:14—47
4:17—47
11:2—54
12:50—138
22:19—60
22:31–32—38
22:39–46—132
23:50–56—21
24:30—135
24:50–51—39
24:50–52—135
John
1—12
1:1–4—19, 21
1:3—12
1:4—12
1:13—20
1:14–18—19, 21
1:32–33—47
2:1–11—20
3:1–15—73
3:6—69
4:4–7—20
4:34—58
5:16–47—19, 53
5:24—124
5:24–25—124n157
6:37–40—65
6:44–45—51, 73
6:51—61
6:51–58—125
6:63—124
6:64–65—51, 73
7:37–39—48, 103
8:46—58
10:22–36—19, 53
11–21—108n78
11:32–38—20
11:33–38—132
11:50—61
13:18—67, 69
14—126
14–17—48
14:1—19, 48, 53
14:7–11—19, 53
14:7–20—19
14:8–10—48
14:10–11—48
14:16—4, 96
14:16–17—96
14:16–23—48, 103
14:20—4, 49
14:23—4, 49, 94, 97, 126
15:16—69
15:19—69
16:8–11—48, 103
16:8–15—103
16:12–15—48
16:13–14—48
17:4—58
17:21—4, 108
17:21–24—19
17:22–23—5
17:23—54
19:25–27—20
19:38–42—21
20:19—135
20:19–29—135
20:26—135
20:28—19
Acts
1:6–11—135
2—50
2:32–33—48
2:33–36—103
2:38—139
9:1–9—135
11:18—139
13:2—69
22:16—139
Romans
1:19–23—93
3:21—6
3:23—96
3:25—59
3:26—57
4—79
4:25—6, 59, 62, 79, 137
5:8—59, 61
5:12–21—5, 57, 59, 62
5:17—5
6:1—6, 65, 79, 138
6:1–23—87
6:3–4—6
6:3–11—138
6:5—103
8—54, 126
8:3—22
8:10–11—86, 126, 133
8:11—136
8:15–16—88
8:15–17—54
8:18—131
8:29—42
8:29–30—65, 128
8:30—90
10:9–17—124
11:17—42
1 Corinthians
1:18–2:5—124n157
1:30—77, 80
3:9–11—119
6:1–3—140
6:11—69
6:15—105
6:19—99
6:19–20—87
10:16–17—121
11:7—14n13
11:24—60, 105
12:3—69
12:12–13—138
12:13—69, 125
15—6, 134
15:3—61
15:3–4—134
15:8–11—135
15:12–19—6, 135
15:19–23—6
15:20—135
15:20–23—57
15:22—60
15:23—135
15:27—39
15:27–28—114n121
15:35—6
15:35–49—136
15:35–50—126
15:42—137
15:42–49—136
15:45–49—14
15:49—136
2 Corinthians
1:8–11—86
1:21–22—90
3:7–11—97
3:16–17—51
3:17—126
3:17–18—86, 103
3:18—52, 86, 94, 97, 128
4:4—14, 86
4:4–6—124, 140
4:7—131
4:7–12—131
4:7–18—86
4:8–12—131
5:1–5—134
5:6–8—134
5:14–15—61
5:17—88, 137
5:19—21
5:21—61
11:12–33—130
11:24–29—130
Galatians
1:8–9—73
2:20—99
3—22
3:27—43, 138
4—54, 126
4:4—20, 22, 50
4:4–6—50, 54
4:6—51, 88
5:22—87
Ephesians
1—97
1:3—46, 79
1:3–4—4
1:3–5—4
1:3–10—140
1:3–14—4, 78, 85
1:4—65, 66, 67, 72
1:6–7—81
1:7—4
1:10—4, 13, 116n126
1:13–14—4, 90
1:15—85
2:1—5, 51, 73
2:1–7—86
2:1–10—137
2:4–7—137
2:6—60
2:8–9—73
4:4—69
4:15—42
4:24—13, 87
5—106
5:30—105
5:31—106
5:31–32—119
5:32—106
Philippians
1:12–26—86
1:21—134
1:29—130
2:6—22
3:10—129, 131
3:20–21—128, 136
Colossians
1:13—12, 87
1:15—14, 86, 140
1:16–17—12
1:24—86
2:11—139
3:10—13, 87
1 Thessalonians
4:13—141
4:13–17—132
4:14—133
4:16—133
1 Timothy
2:6—61
3:16—137
2 Timothy
1:9—65
2:11–12—131–32
Titus
3:5—103
Hebrews
1:1–4—37
1:1–14—22
1:2—13
1:3—13, 14, 140
2—22
2:5–9—17
2:5–10—140
2:5–18—22, 126
2:8–9—17
2:15–18—20
3:7–4:11—10n3
4:14–16—59
4:14–5:10—21, 22, 62
5:7–10—132
6:18–20—62
7:23–8:1—62
9:11–10:14—62
9:14—49
9:28—61
10:1–14—59
10:7—58
James
1:18—124
3:9—14n13
1 Peter
1:3—137
1:3–4—5
1:5—89
1:20—69n28
1:23—124
2:5—69n28
2:21—59
2:21–24—61
3:18—59, 61
3:21—139
2 Peter
1:3–4—96
1:4—94, 96n33, 106, 117, 118, 128, 140–41
1 John
3:1–2—52, 94, 97, 128, 137
3:2—86, 140–41
3:24—51
Revelation
1:10–20—135–36
20:4—132
20:5—132n2
21:3—36
21:27—66

Index of Subjects and Names

Aaron, 62
Abrahamic covenant, 36, 46
Achan, 58
active obedience of Christ, 57, 59
Adam
disobedience of, 16–17, 57–58, 81, 137, 140
in image of God, 13
as representative of human race, 5–6, 62
adoption, 8, 54, 76, 80, 90
adornment, of world, 9
angels, election of, 72
Apollinarianism, 23
Apollinaris, 23, 26, 34
apotheōsis, 91, 92, 123
Arianism, 23
Arios, 23
Arminianism, 75, 76, 88
Arminius, Jacobus, 70
artificial analogy (Stedman), 119
assurance, 66, 76
Athanasius, 70, 91, 92–94, 107
atonement, 57, 91
and election, 68
and incarnation, 41
justice of, 63
and justification, 65
and union with Christ, 60–65
Augsburg Confession, 77
Augustine, 67, 72, 100–101
baptism, 50, 120–21, 138–39
Calvin on, 103, 111–12
Barth, Karl, 12, 70
Bavinck, Herman, 45, 47, 72
Bernard of Clairvaux, 125
biblical theology, 89
Bobrinskoy, Boris, 46, 47
Bonner, Gerald, 100
Bray, Gerald, 48–49
Bruce, Robert, 125
Bullinger, Heinrich, 114n122
Cabasilas, Nicolaus, 99, 123
Calvin, John, 1, 128, 140
on deification, 107, 113, 115
on election, 66
on energies of God, 123
on Holy Spirit, 51, 52
on humanity of Christ, 39–40
on justification, 74, 77–78
on sanctification, 77–78
on union with Christ, 2–3, 32, 42–43, 103–15
cannibalism, 124
Cappadocians, 34
Christian life, 88–90, 97
Christocentrism, 102
Christology, development of, 23–36
christotokos, 23
church, 127
communicatio idiomatum, 115
communion with Christ, 108–9, 119, 127
conjugal analogy (Stedman), 119
Consensus Tigurinus, 114n122
consummation, 139–41
conversion, 88
corporal analogy (Stedman), 119
corporate solidarity, 58
cosmos, renovation of, 72
Council of Chalcedon (451), 26–29
Council of Constantinople (381), 23
Council of Constantinople (553), 32, 35
Council of Ephesus (431), 25, 29
Council of Nicaea (325), 23
covenants, promise of, 36–37
creation, 9–18
Creator-creature distinction, 15–16, 23, 36, 91, 99, 101, 123
Cunningham, William, 120, 122
Cyril of Alexandria, 24–25, 26, 27, 28, 30, 92, 94–95, 107
Dabney, Robert L., 120, 122
Darwin, Charles, 122
Day of Atonement, 62
day of judgment, 141
death, 132–33
decrees of God, 65n13
definitive sanctification, 87
deification, 31–32, 36, 94, 101–2, 123
in Calvin, 107, 113, 115
Dunn, James D. G., 6n16
Eastern church, 36, 91, 92, 100, 103, 123
Edict of Justinian (551), 33
Edwards, Jonathan, 2
effectual calling, 88
Einstein-Bell-Podosky theory, 7, 136
election, 37, 79
general and special, 70
and union with Christ, 65–72
energies of God, 92, 123, 127
enhypostatis, 30, 31
eschatological transformation. See theōsis
Eucharist. See Lord’s Supper
Eunomios, 23
Eutyches, 25–28, 34, 91, 95
Evans, William B., 2, 32n45, 52, 122
exile, 46
ex opere operato, 120
faith, 52, 88
Calvin on, 110
and justification, 73–74, 75–76
as living faith, 75
and union with Christ, 127
fall, 16–18, 130
fellowship, 109, 126
Finlan, Stephen, 97n36
Finnish school of Luther interpretation, 101–2
firstfruits, 135
Flavel, John, 54–55
Formula of Concord, 77
fruit of the Spirit, 87
Gaffin, Richard B., Jr., 80n59, 89–90
Garcia, Mark, 107
Geneva Catechism, 104
glorification, 80, 89, 90, 91
glory, 96
gnosticism, 139n9
God
attributes of, 92
as Father, 53–54
glory of, 86, 100
justice of, 71–72
sovereignty of, 10
Goodwin, Thomas, 71
good works, 74n47
grace, 72, 76, 78
Gregory Nazianzen, 23
Gregory of Nyssa, 92, 127
Gregory Palamas, 92, 101
Grillmeier, Aloys, 30, 34, 35
Grosseteste, Robert, 38
Hallonstein, Gösta, 101
Harnack, Adolf von, 100
Hegel, Georg, 122
Heidegger, John Henry, 80
Hellenistic dualism, 96n33
Heppe, Heinrich, 80
Heshus, Tileman, 112
high priest, 62
history of redemption, 36–37
Hodge, Charles, 2, 122
holiness, 13–14
Holy of Holies, 62
Holy Spirit, 11, 32n45
and baptism, 138–39
Calvin on, 108
and communion with Christ, 112
as earnest, 90
and faith, 110
indwelling of, 47, 49–50, 54, 85, 96, 124, 127
in life and ministry of Jesus, 46–47
at Pentecost, 48–52, 98
promise of, 45–46
and sonship, 54
and union with Christ, 42–43, 51, 52–53, 114, 118, 128
and work of Christ, 110
hope, 133
Horton, Michael, 85n2, 127
hypostasis, 30–31, 33
hypostatic union, 28–29, 54, 126
image of Christ, 74, 92, 96
image of God, 10, 11, 13–14, 16, 52, 54, 86
imputation, 6n16, 75, 81
incarnation, 1, 17, 19–43, 35, 54, 93, 98–100, 108, 116
in Christ, 7, 65, 68–69, 71, 72, 97
individualism, 58
Irish Articles, 77
Israel, election of, 70
Jesus Christ
ascension of, 42
baptism of, 47, 98
birth of, 20, 22
death of, 86, 133–34
deity of, 22, 36, 59
as fulfillment of covenant promises, 36–37
glorification of, 48
humanity of, 19–22, 36, 39–40, 58, 59, 116. See also incarnation
as image of God, 14, 54, 86, 140
intercession of, 38
lordship of, 14, 19
as Mediator, 67, 68, 71
as mediator of creation, 12–13, 39
obedience of, 57–60, 62, 74, 78, 81
as our representative, 5–6, 57, 61–62, 83
resurrection of, 85–86, 133, 134–37
return of, 100, 128, 129, 134, 137
righteousness of, 80–81
as second Adam, 14, 18, 64
as substitute, 59, 60–61
sufferings of, 129–31
temptation of, 59
two natures of, 27
union with his church, 37–38, 68
union with our human nature, 37–38
John, on union with Christ, 4–5
John the Baptist, 46–47
justification, 88, 91, 111
and faith, 2, 52, 73–74, 102
as “main hinge”, 3
and sanctification, 2
and union with Christ, 5–6, 73–81
Justinian I, Emperor, 28, 32–35
Kelly, J. N. D., 25
knowledge, 13–14
Knox, John, 120
Lane, Tony, 7, 42, 52, 77–78, 139
law and grace, 78
legal aspect, to union with Christ, 51–52, 57
Leo, Pope, 26, 29
Leontius of Byzantium, 30–31, 33
Leontius of Jerusalem, 30, 31–32, 33
Logos, 12, 19, 24, 28, 33–35
Lord’s Supper, 32, 50, 95, 105, 120–21, 124–25
Calvin on, 112–13
Polanus on, 116, 119
Lutherans, 74
on justification, 82
on Lord’s Supper, 114–15, 120
Luther, Martin, 74, 102
Maastricht, Hendrik van, 80
man, creation of, 13–14, 15–16
Mannermaa, Tuomo, 102
Marcellus of Ancyra, 39n70
Marcian, Emperor, 26
marriage, 98n37
Martin, Hugh, 64–65
Mary, 20, 46
as theotokos, 23, 24–25, 27
Maximus the Confessor, 95
McCormack, Bruce, 32n45
means of grace, 127
Melanchthon, Philipp, 2
metaphor, 53
metochoi, 94
Meyendorff, John, 31
Monophysites, 28–30, 35
moral union, 52
Morris, Edward, 77
Mosaic covenant, 36, 46, 63
Mosser, Carl, 113
mourning, 132–33
Muller, Richard, 2, 69n27, 115n124
Murray, John, 1, 87n3, 89
mystical elements, of union, 121–22
natural analogy (Stedman), 51–52, 119
nature, 33–34
Nellas, Panayiotis, 99
neoorthodox scholars, 2
Nestorianism, 26, 28–29, 35, 39–40, 113–14
Nestorius, 23–25
Nevin, John W., 121–22
new covenant, 36, 45
new creation, 46, 58, 86, 137
new life, 121
Newman, John Henry, 18, 21, 122
New Perspective on Paul, 6n16
Niceno-Constantinopolitan creed, 21, 39n70
Ollerton, Andrew, 114n122
order, of creation, 10
ordo salutis, 2, 76, 88–91
Origen, 92, 95
Osiander, 77, 107n75, 114
Ozment, Steven, 102
pantheism, 99
partakers of divine nature, 80, 94, 128, 131, 141
Calvin on, 39, 66, 104, 106, 111–12
participation, 94–95. See also theōsis
passive obedience of Christ, 59
Paul
on Christian life, 97
on creation, 12–13
on election, 65
on humanity of Christ, 21–22
on image of God, 13–14
on justification, 5–6, 73
on the resurrection, 6–7
on sanctification, 6
on substitutionary atonement, 61
on suffering, 129–30
on union with Christ, 4
Pentecost, 42, 45–46, 48–52, 96
perichoresis, 48–49
perseverance, 76, 89, 90
Peter
on divine nature, 96
at Pentecost, 48
on substitutionary atonement, 61
on union with Christ, 5
pneumatocentrism, 103
Polanus, Amandus, 69–71, 72, 79–80, 115–19, 123
preterition, 71–72
prosōpon, 24, 25, 31
Puritanism, 3
Rad, Gerhard Von, 11
Ramus, Petrus, 70n32
rationalism, 122
Reformed theology, on union with Christ, 102–23
regeneration, 51, 73–74, 88, 111, 137
Relton, Herbert M., 30
representation, 57–83
resurrection, 6–7, 14, 129, 134–38
resurrection body, 134–36
righteousness, 13–14, 80–81, 111
Roman Catholic Church
on justification, 74, 75, 80, 82
on sacraments, 120
romanticism, 122
Russell, Norman, 92–95
sacraments, 120–21, 124–25
Calvin on, 111–13
Polanus on, 116
sacrifice, 60–61
sanctification, 2, 6, 73, 74n47, 76, 89–90
as ethical, 87–88
as spacial, 87
saving faith, 73
Scots Confession, 77, 120
Scottish Common Sense Realism, 122
second Adam, 14, 18, 26, 58, 59–60, 64, 86, 137, 140
Second Helvetic Confession, 77
Sellers, R. V., 28, 29, 30
Semi-Pelagianism, 88
sensus plenior, 11
simile, 53
sin, 16
Slater, Jonathan, 113
sonship, 41, 54, 80, 90
Spear, Wayne, 120
Staniloae, Dumitru, 98
Starr, James, 96n33
Stedman, Rowland, 3, 51–52, 80–81, 119–21
substitution, 60–61, 62–63, 64
suffering, 129–31
Suh, Chul Won, 41n75
Tertullian, 20
theōsis, 91–102, 107
theotokos, 23, 24–25, 27
Thirty-Nine Articles, 77
Thomas Aquinas, 101
Tipton, Lane, 85n1, 129, 134, 137
Torrance, Thomas F., 37, 76, 78
tree of the knowledge of good and evil, 15
Trinity, 37–38, 48–49
in creation, 11
and Lord’s Supper, 126
and resurrection, 136
tritheism, 64n13
union with Christ
and atonement, 60–65
and creation, 18
in death, 132–34
and election, 65–72
and incarnation, 40–43
and justification, 5–6, 77
in Leontius of Jerusalem, 31–32
and ordo salutis, 88–91
in Reformed theology, 102–23
and resurrection, 6–7, 134–38
and sanctification, 6
as substantial, 105–6, 114, 117–18, 123
and suffering, 129–31
and transformation, 85–87, 102–28
Vermigli, Pietro Martire, 108–9
virgin birth, 20
Vos, Geerhardus, 89, 90n8
Watts, Isaac, 90
weight of glory, 131
Wenham, Gordon, 11
Western church, 100
Westminster Assembly, 2, 64, 71, 90
Westminster Confession of Faith, 71–72, 74–76, 120
Westminster Larger Catechism, 76–78,
141
Williams, Anna, 101
will of God, as one, 64n13
Word and sacraments, 124–25
Wordworth, Christopher, 40
wrath of God, 62, 74, 83
Wright, N. T., 6n16
Zanchius, Hieronymous, 67–69, 71, 72,
79
Zwinglianism, 120–21
 1. Institutes, 3.2.24.
2. John Murray, Redemption Accomplished and Applied (London: Banner of
Truth, 1961), 161.
3. Ibid., 170.
4. Lane G. Tipton, “Union with Christ and Justification,” in Justified in Christ:
God’s Plan for Us in Justification, ed. K. Scott Oliphint (Fearn, Ross-shire, UK:
Mentor, 2007), 34.
5. William B. Evans, Imputation and Impartation: Union with Christ in
American Reformed Theology (Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, 2008), esp. 111–12.
6. Richard A. Muller, The Unaccommodated Calvin: Studies in the Foundation
of a Theological Tradition (New York: Oxford University Press, 2000), 118–39.
7. As Muller notes, “The order of loci identified by Melanchthon in Paul’s
Epistle to the Romans thus established a standard for the organization of
Protestant theology.” Ibid., 129.
8. Robert Letham, The Westminster Assembly: Reading Its Theology in
Historical Context (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R Publishing, 2009), 101–11, 245–46.
9. Institutes, 3.11.1.
10. Ibid., 3.11.6, 11; 3.13.5; see also “Antidote to the Council of Trent,” SW,
3.128; “Reply to Sadoleto,” SW, 1.41–42.
11. See Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, available at
http://www.oxforddnb.com/view
/article/26341 (accessed September 23, 2009).
12. Rowland Stedman, The Mystical Union of Believers with Christ, or A
Treatise Wherein That Great Mystery and Priviledge of the Saints Union with the
Son of God Is Opened (London: W. R. for Thomas Parkhurst, at the Golden-Bible
on London-Bridge, under the gate, 1668), Wing / 335:13.
13. Ibid., 18.
14. Robert Letham, The Work of Christ (Leicester, UK: Inter-Varsity Press,
1993), 80–81.
15. D. A. Carson, The Gospel according to St John (Leicester, UK: Inter-Varsity
Press, 1991), 504–5.
16. In the last two decades, there has been a huge amount of discussion in NT
studies on the relationship between union with Christ and justification. Driven by
the New Perspective on Paul, associated particularly with James D. G. Dunn and
N. T. Wright but backed up by a host of others, union with Christ is said to render
superfluous and mistaken the idea of the imputation of the righteousness of
Christ. The literature is too voluminous to cite here. This book does not deal with
this issue except tangentially, although I think its argument undermines the New
Perspective approach. For an outstanding assessment of this literature from the
perspective of Calvin studies and classical Christology, see Mark A. Garcia,
“Imputation and the Christology of Union with Christ: Calvin, Osiander and the
Contemporary Quest for a Reformed Model,” WTJ 68 (2006): 219–51.
17. Anthony N. S. Lane, Justification by Faith in Catholic-Protestant Dialogue:
An Evangelical Assessment (London: T&T Clark, 2002), 23.
18. Herman Bavinck, In the Beginning: Foundations of Creation Theology, ed.
John Bolt, trans. John Vriend (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1999), 100ff. (subsequently
published in volume 2 of Bavinck’s Reformed Dogmatics). See also the
discussion in ST, pt. 1a, Q. 66, arts. 1–4, and the entire section QQ. 66–74 in
general.
19. This pattern was discerned at least as long ago as the thirteenth century.
See Robert Grosseteste: On the Six Days of Creation: A Translation of the
Hexaëmeron, trans. C. F. J. Martin, Auctores Britannici Medii Aevi (Oxford: Oxford
University Press for the British Academy, 1996), 160–61 (5:1:3–5:2:1); ST, pt. 1,
Q. 74, art. 1. See my article “ ‘In the Space of Six Days’: The Days of Creation
from Origen to the Westminster Assembly,” WTJ 61 (1999): 149–74.
20. Cf. Heb. 3:7–4:11.
21. See Francis Watson, Text, Church, and World: Biblical Interpretation in
Theological Perspective (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1994), 142–43.
22. Gordon J. Wenham, Genesis 1–15, Word Biblical Commentary (Waco, TX:
Word, 1987), 15–17.
23. Gerhard Von Rad, Genesis: A Commentary, rev. ed. (Philadelphia:
Westminster Press, 1961).
24. Robert Letham, The Holy Trinity: In Scripture, History, Theology, and
Worship (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R Publishing, 2004), 17–22.
25. Robert Letham, “The Man-Woman Debate: Theological Comment,” WTJ 52
(1990): 71.
26. CD, 3.1:196.
27. Robert Letham, The Work of Christ (Leicester, UK: Inter-Varsity Press,
1993), 197–209.
28. Ibid., 198–202.
29. See, inter alia, G. K. Beale, The Book of Revelation: A Commentary on the
Greek Text (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1999).
30. See 1 Cor. 11:7; James 3:9.
31. Philip Edgcumbe Hughes, The True Image: The Origin and Destiny of Man
in Christ (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1989), 281–86.
32. Richard B. Gaffin Jr., The Centrality of the Resurrection: A Study in Paul’s
Soteriology (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1978).
33. This was an agricultural task, although there is good evidence that it was
not limited to that but was primarily a function of a priest-king. See J. V. Fesko,
Last Things First (Fearn, Ross-shire, UK: Mentor, 2007).
34. I have slightly amended the ESV translation and rendered the clauses in
verse 9 in terms of the progression of thought of the author. The sentence is a
chiasmus, with the first and last clauses connected and the inward clauses
connected.
35. For a fuller exposition of Jesus as God, see Robert Letham, The Holy
Trinity: In Scripture, History, Theology, and Worship (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R
Publishing, 2004), 34–51.
36. I am indebted for these observations to Thomas F. Torrance, Incarnation:
The Person and Life of Christ (Milton Keynes, UK: Paternoster, 2008), 88–94.
37. Much of the substance of this section first appeared in my book Through
Western Eyes: Eastern Orthodoxy; A Reformed Perspective (Fearn, Ross-shire,
UK: Mentor, 2007) and is printed here with permission. See
http://www.christianfocus.com.
38. On Nestorius, see G. L. Prestige, Fathers and Heretics (London: SPCK,
1940), 120–49; J. N. D. Kelly, Early Christian Doctrines (London: Adam & Charles
Black, 1968), 310–17.
39. See D. S. Wallace-Hadrill, Christian Antioch: A Study of Early Christian
Thought in the East (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982).
40. Gregory of Nazianzus, Epistola 101, PG 31:181c.
41. For Cyril, see St. Cyril of Alexandria, On the Unity of Christ, ed. John
Anthony McGuckin (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1995); John
Anthony McGuckin, St. Cyril of Alexandria and the Christological Controversy: Its
History, Theology, and Texts (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press,
2004); Prestige, Fathers, 150–79; Kelly, Doctrines, 317–23; Norman Russell, Cyril
of Alexandria (London: Routledge, 2000).
42. See John Meyendorff, Christ in Eastern Christian Thought (Crestwood, NY:
St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1975), 18–19.
43. Leo Donald Davis, The First Seven Ecumenical Councils (325–787)
(Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1990), 149–50; Richard A. Norris Jr., The
Christological Controversy (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1980), 131–35, esp.
133.
44. Edward Rochie Hardy, Christology of the Later Fathers, Library of Christian
Classics (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1954), 349–54, esp. 352–53.
45. Ibid., 354; Davis, Councils, 150–51; Henry R. Percival, The Seven
Ecumenical Councils of the Undivided Church: Their Canons and Dogmatic
Decrees, Select Library of Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers of the Christian
Church, 2nd ser. (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1997), 206.
46. Davis, Councils, 160.
47. Meyendorff, Christ, 21.
48. See Aloys Grillmeier, S.J., Christ in Christian Tradition, vol. 1, From the
Apostolic Age to Chalcedon (451), trans. John Bowden, 2nd rev. ed. (Atlanta:
John Knox Press, 1975), 520–57; Jaroslav Pelikan, The Christian Tradition, vol. 1,
The Emergence of the Catholic Tradition (100–600) (Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 1971), 263–66.
49. Kelly, Doctrines, 331.
50. See ibid., 330–34; Davis, Councils, 171.
51. For the Council of Chalcedon, see R. V. Sellers, The Council of Chalcedon:
A Historical and Doctrinal Survey (London: SPCK, 1953), 209ff.; Kelly, Doctrines,
338–43; Davis, Councils, 180–82; Percival, Seven Ecumenical Councils, 243–95.
52. After Leo’s Tome was read, at the second session of the council, “the most
reverend bishops cried out: This is the faith of the fathers, this is the faith of the
apostles. So we all believe, thus the orthodox believe. Anathema to him who
does not thus believe. Peter has spoken thus through Leo. So taught the
apostles.” Percival, Seven Ecumenical Councils, 259.
53. Pelikan, Catholic Tradition, 263–64; Sellers, Chalcedon, 209–10.
54. See Henry Bettenson, ed., Documents of the Christian Church, 2nd ed.
(London: Oxford University Press, 1963), 51–52.
55. Sellers, Chalcedon, 224–26.
56. Ibid., 226.
57. Ibid., 224.
58. Ibid., 256–60; Davis, Councils, 187; Meyendorff, Christ, 28; Pelikan,
Catholic Tradition, 265–66.
59. Sellers, Chalcedon, 266.
 60. Norris, Controversy, 148.
61. Davis, Councils, 196–97.
62. Sellers, Chalcedon, 350.
63. Grillmeier, From the Apostolic Age to Chalcedon, 550.
64. Ibid., 438–75, 503–13; Sellers, Chalcedon, 254–350; Herbert M. Relton, A
Study in Christology: The Problem of the Relation of the Two Natures in the
Person of Christ (London: SPCK, 1917); Timothy Ware, The Orthodox Church
(London: Penguin Books, 1969), 37; Jaroslav Pelikan, The Christian Tradition, vol.
2, The Spirit of Eastern Christendom (Chicago: University of Chicago Press,
1974), 49–61; Pelikan, Catholic Tradition, 277, 337–41; W. H. C. Frend, The Rise
of the Monophysite Movement (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1972);
Meyendorff, Christ.
65. Aloys Grillmeier, S.J., Christ in Christian Tradition, vol. 2, From the Council
of Chalcedon (451) to Gregory the Great (590–604), pt. 2, The Church of
Constantinople in the Sixth Century, trans. John Cawte (London: Mowbray,
1995), 181–229; Relton, A Study in Christology, 69–83; Brian Daley, “Leontius of
Byzantium: A Critical Edition of His Works, with Prolegomena” (D.Phil. diss.,
Oxford University, 1978).
66. Davis, Councils, 221.
67. This is often rather unhelpfully called “the impersonal humanity.” Of
course, it is impossible to contemplate humanity that does not have
personhood. What this idea attests is that the assumed humanity of Christ exists
only as the humanity of the Son of God. In turn, enhypostasia underlines the
point that this humanity is that of the eternal Son of the Father.
68. Davis, Councils, 234; Meyendorff, Christ, 61–68.
69. Sellers, Chalcedon, 308–20, esp. 316–19; Relton, A Study in Christology,
69–83.
70. Hardy, Later Fathers, 375–77.
71. Grillmeier, The Church of Constantinople in the Sixth Century, 276–312.
72. Ibid., 277.
73. Ibid., 279.
74. Ibid., 285.
75. Cited in Meyendorff, Christ, 74.
76. Grillmeier, The Church of Constantinople in the Sixth Century, 289.
77. Meyendorff, Christ, 75.
78. Ibid., 78–79; Leontius of Jerusalem, Against Nestorius, PG 86:1512b. But
see Andrew Louth, John Damascene: Tradition and Originality in Byzantine
Theology (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), 160–61.
79. This statement is based on my reading of the patristic source. Bill Evans
has pointed out to me the penetrating observations of Bruce McCormack to the
effect that for Reformed theology the Holy Spirit, not the hypostatic union,
preserves the incarnate Christ from the taint of sin. This is indeed so, as I have
myself affirmed elsewhere. Robert Letham, The Work of Christ (Leicester, UK:
Inter-Varsity Press, 1993), 114–15; Letham, The Holy Trinity, 56–57. But the work
of the Holy Spirit and the personalization of the Incarnate One by the eternal
Son are not at loggerheads as if they were from disparate sources. The Son and
the Spirit act distinctly, yet harmoniously and indivisibly, in all the ways and
works of God. Both are involved—with this distinction: the assumed humanity is
in personal union not with the Holy Spirit but with the eternal Son. See Bruce L.
McCormack, For Us and Our Salvation: Incarnation and Atonement in the
Reformed Tradition, Studies in Reformed Theology and History (Princeton:
Princeton Theological Seminary, 1993), 17–22. Evans discusses this question
himself in William B. Evans, Imputation and Impartation: Union with Christ in
American Reformed Theology (Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, 2008), 167–68.
80. Davis, Councils, 225–29.
81. Kenneth Paul Wesche, On the Person of Christ: The Christology of Emperor
Justinian (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1991), 12.
82. Ibid., 31, from Justinian’s “Letter to the Monks of Alexandria against the
Monophysites.”
83. Ibid., 13–14.
84. Davis, Councils, 232.
85. Wesche, The Christology of Justinian, 165.
86. Ibid., 166.
87. Ibid., 178.
88. Ibid., 179.
89. Ibid., 180.
90. Grillmeier, The Church of Constantinople in the Sixth Century, 435–36.
91. Ibid., 436–37.
92. Ibid., 438.
93. Wesche, The Christology of Justinian, 19–20.
94. Percival, Seven Ecumenical Councils, 302.
95. Davis, Councils, 244–46; Sellers, Chalcedon, 330; Hardy, Later Fathers,
378–81.
96. Grillmeier, The Church of Constantinople in the Sixth Century, 446;
Percival, Seven Ecumenical Councils, 312.
97. Percival, Seven Ecumenical Councils, 313.
98. Ibid., 314–16; Grillmeier, The Church of Constantinople in the Sixth
Century, 447–53.
99. Grillmeier, The Church of Constantinople in the Sixth Century, 456.
100. Alister E. McGrath, Thomas F. Torrance: An Intellectual Biography
(Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1999), 73–74.
101. Letham, The Work of Christ, 39–49.
102. Robert Grosseteste: On the Six Days of Creation: A Translation of the
Hexaëmeron, trans. C. F. J. Martin, Auctores Britannici Medii Aevi (Oxford: Oxford
University Press for the British Academy, 1996), 47–48.
103. Letham, The Work of Christ, 155–57.
104. Correlative with this is the statement in the Niceno-Constantinopolitan
creed that Christ’s kingdom will never end, aimed at Marcellus of Ancyra, who
taught that it was a temporary expedient that would conclude at the final
judgment.
105. John Calvin, Calvin’s Commentaries: The First Epistle of Paul the Apostle
to the Corinthians, ed. Thomas F. Torrance and David W. Torrance, trans. John W.
Fraser (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1960), 327.
106. Institutes, 2.14.3.
107. Ibid., 2.12.3.
108. Ibid., 3.1.1; CO, 15:722–74.
 109. See Chul Won Suh, The Creation Mediatorship of Jesus Christ
(Amsterdam: Rodopi, 1982), for a detailed discussion of the debate as to
whether salvation is primarily redemption from sin or else the elevation of the
human race to a higher plane, what Dr. Suh terms “restitution-line theology” and
“elevation-line theology,” respectively. It seems to me that this is a false
dilemma.
110. Anthony N. S. Lane, Justification by Faith in Catholic-Protestant Dialogue:
An Evangelical Assessment (London: T&T Clark, 2002), 23.
111. Institutes, 3.1.1.
112. Ibid.
113. Herman Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics, vol. 3, Sin and Salvation in Christ
(Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2006), 500.
114. Boris Bobrinskoy, The Mystery of the Trinity: Trinitarian Experience and
Vision in the Biblical and Patristic Tradition, trans. Anthony P. Gythiel (Crestwood,
NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1999), 87.
115. Ibid.
116. Ibid., 88, 91.
117. Ibid., 94, 99.
118. Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics, 3:292.
119. Gerald L. Bray, The Doctrine of God (Leicester, UK: Inter-Varsity Press,
1993), 158.
120. Robert Letham, The Holy Trinity: In Scripture, History, Theology, and
Worship (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R Publishing, 2004), 186–93.
121. On dipping as the original mode of baptism, see Hughes Oliphant Old,
The Shaping of the Reformed Baptismal Rite in the Sixteenth Century (Grand
Rapids: Eerdmans, 1992), 264–82; Robert Letham, “Baptism in the Writings of
the Reformers,” SBET 7, 2 (Autumn 1989): 21–44; Robert Letham, The
Westminster Assembly: Reading Its Theology in Historical Context (Phillipsburg,
NJ: P&R Publishing, 2009), 339–45; Certain Learned Divines, Annotations upon
All the Books of the Old and New Testament; Wherein the Text Is Explained,
Doubts Resolved, Scriptures Paralleled, and Various Readings Observed (London:
John Legatt and John Raworth, 1645), Wing / 351.01, on Romans 6:4; and from
the Orthodox perspective—and the Greeks certainly know a thing or two about
their own language—Timothy Ware, The Orthodox Church (London: Penguin
Books, 1969), 284.
122. Institutes, 3.1.1.
123. Rowland Stedman, The Mystical Union of Believers with Christ, or A
Treatise Wherein That Great Mystery and Priviledge of the Saints Union with the
Son of God Is Opened (London: W. R. for Thomas Parkhurst, at the Golden-Bible
on London-Bridge, under the gate, 1668), 121, Wing / 335:13.
124. Ibid., 122.
125. Ibid., 123–32.
126. Ibid., 133.
127. Ibid., 134–35.
128. Ibid., 148–49.
129. See William B. Evans, Imputation and Impartation: Union with Christ in
American Reformed Theology (Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, 2008). I am indebted
to Bill Evans himself for this observation.
130. Anthony N. S. Lane, Justification by Faith in Catholic-Protestant Dialogue:
An Evangelical Assessment (London: T&T Clark, 2002), 26.
131. The current tendency, influenced by the pressure of gender-inclusive
language, to refer to believers as “sons and daughters” of God is misleading,
blurs this vital truth, and has the effect of blunting the church’s appreciation of
what union with Christ entails. Jesus Christ is the Son of the Father, and is so
eternally; that is his name and that is his status. It is not a sexual term, for God
is not a sexual being. By referring to Christian believers as “sons,” the NT is not,
under the influence of patriarchal culture, bypassing half the human race.
Instead, it is pointing to our shared status with the Son of the Father, in and by
the Holy Spirit. The introduction of talk of “daughters” obscures this point,
placed at the hub of the Christian life.
132. The Works of John Flavel (London: Banner of Truth, 1968), 2:34.
133. Robert Letham, The Work of Christ (Leicester, UK: Inter-Varsity Press,
1993), 113–14.
134. The alternative is to bear that penalty ourselves, eternal death and
condemnation, bearing the just and holy wrath of God.
135. Letham, The Work of Christ, 113–21.
136. Ibid., 116f.
137. See Alan M. Stibbs, The Meaning of the Word “Blood” in Scripture
(London: Tyndale Press, 1948); Leon Morris, The Apostolic Preaching of the Cross
(London: Tyndale Press, 1955); Letham, The Work of Christ, 132–40.
138. This is the constitutional position. Sadly, we know that in many cases
members of Congress represent vested interests such as big business or other
groups that have financed their election.
139. See Mark A. Garcia, “Imputation and the Christology of Union with Christ:
Calvin, Osiander and the Contemporary Quest for a Reformed Model,” WTJ 68
(2006): 219–51.
140. Steve Jeffery, Michael Ovey, and Andrew Sach, Pierced for Our
Transgressions: Recovering the Glory of Penal Substitution (Wheaton, IL:
Crossway, 2007).
141. Hugh Martin, The Atonement: In Its Relations to the Covenant, the
Priesthood, the Intercession of Our Lord (Edinburgh: Lyon and Gemmell, 1877),
38.
142. Ibid., 40–41.
143. Ibid., 42–44.
144. WLC 31: “Q. With whom was the covenant of grace made? A. The
covenant of grace was made with Christ as the second Adam, and in him with all
the elect as his seed.”
145. Martin verges on tritheism, at least in forms of expression if not intent,
when he talks of the will of the Father, the will of the Son, and—by implication—
the will of the Holy Spirit. Classic Trinitarian theology has maintained that the
three have one will, since will is a predicate of nature rather than person. The
three persons act inseparably and indivisibly in all God’s ways and works, since
the Trinity is indivisible; see Martin, Atonement, 45. Perhaps this is why Martin
considers God’s decrees as cold and unloving. How can that be so, since the
Trinity is perfect love and all of God’s holy plans and purposes reflect the
goodness and love that forever is characteristic of who he is?
146. For further discussion, see Letham, The Work of Christ, 53–56; Richard A.
Muller, Christ and the Decree: Christology and Predestination in Reformed
Theology from Calvin to Perkins (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1986).
147. Institutes, 3.24.5.
148. Ibid., 3.22.7.
149. Ibid., 3.24.5.
150. Ibid., 3.21.7.
151. “Itaque cum sit Apostolus, nos electos fuisse in Christo: Christus
proponitur considerandus, non ut purus Deus, neque ut simplex homo: sed ut
Deus & homo simul, cum officio Mediatoris aeterno. Proinde non dicit, nos esse
electos en tō logō, neque in filio hominis: sed in Christo. Hoc enim nomen &
duas naturas simul, & officium complectitur.” Hieronymous Zanchius, Operum
Theologicorum Omnium (Amsterdam: Stephanus Gamonentus, 1613), 2:535.
152. Ibid., 2:536.
153. Ibid.
154. Ibid.
155. “Non enim ideo nos elegit, quia Christus mortuus est pro nobis, sed
contra ideo missus est Filius, qui pro nobis moreretur, quia nos elegerit in ipso.
Unde dicitur Deus sic dilexisse Mundum, ut Filium suum unigenitum dederit ut,
quisquis credit in eum, non pereat.” Ibid., 2:536–37.
156. Ibid., 2:537.
157. “Sicut igitur non sumus benedicti, nisi in Christo capite: ita etiam non
fuimus electi sine Christo, aut ullo ordine naturae extra Christum, sed in Christo,
ut in capite . . . Summa haec est: omnem benedictionem nos accepisse in
Christo & habere non fuimus electi extra Christum, sed in Christo, ut membra in
capite.” Ibid., 6:1:11–12.
158. Ibid., 2:498.
159. See Robert Letham, “Amandus Polanus: A Neglected Theologian?” SCJ 21
(1990): 463–76; Muller calls him “a theologian of considerable stature” in Christ
and the Decree, 130, and “the most compendious systematic theologian of the
early orthodox period” of Reformed scholasticism. Richard A. Muller, After
Calvin: Studies in the Development of a Theological Tradition (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2003), 148.
160. “. . . est praedestinatio qua Deus Filium suum unigenitum designavit ab
aeterno, ut etiam quo ad suam humanam natura esset Filius Dei & caput
Angelorum & hominesque.” Amandus Polanus, Syntagma Theologiae Christianae
(Geneva: Petri Auberti, 1612), 1:678. He cites in support Isaiah 42:1; Matthew
12:18; and 1 Peter 1:20; 2:5.
161. Polanus, Syntagma, 1:681.
162. Ibid., 1:679.
163. “Electionis subjectum . . . in quo electi sumus, est Christus, non
quatenus Deus, nec quatenus nudus homo, sed quatenus theanthrōpos &
Mediator noster. . . . Ita Christus est vinculum, quo Deus & electi coniunguntur.”
Ibid., 1:689–90.
164. Polanus was strongly influenced by the philosophical methodology of
Petrus Ramus (1514–72), in which knowledge was divisible into component
parts, usually dichotomous, so as to be mapped out for ready comprehension.
See Letham, “Polanus”; Walter J. Ong, Ramus, Method and the Decay of
Dialogue (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1958); Donald K. McKim,
Ramism in William Perkins’ Theology (New York: Peter Lang, 1987).
165. Polanus, Syntagma, 1:680.
166. “Athanasium sensisse nos esse in Christo electos, quia Christus est
fundamentum in quo electio & tota instauratio nostri fundata est.” Ibid., 1:686.
One might add Athanasius, Orations against the Arians, 2:70.
167. Polanus, Syntagma, 1:686.
168. “Atqui nos agnoscimus toto corde per Dei gratiam & aperte profitemur,
quod Deus nos elegerit in Christo per fidem agnoscendo ac quod electio nostra
ad salutem aeternam fundata sit in Christo, in quo tanquam in capite nos
tanquam membra mysticii corporis eius gratiose electi sumus.” Ibid., 1:690.
169. Thomas Goodwin, An Exposition of Ephesians Chapter 1 to 2:10 (n.p.:
Sovereign Grace Book Club, 1958), 69–72.
170. Ibid., 74–75.
171. Robert Letham, The Westminster Assembly: Reading Its Theology in
Historical Context (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R Publishing, 2009), 186–87.
172. Herman Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics, vol. 2, God and Creation (Grand
Rapids: Baker Academic, 2004), 401.
173. Ibid., 402–3.
174. Ibid., 403.
175. Ibid., 404.
176. Ibid.
177. Ibid., 404–5.
178. Anthony N. S. Lane, Justification by Faith in Catholic-Protestant Dialogue:
An Evangelical Assessment (London: T&T Clark, 2002), 27.
179. We are not talking here about what Calvin describes as God’s
justification of our good works, those works of obedience that are the result of
the gracious work of the Holy Spirit within us and are nevertheless in some way
soiled by our own continued sinfulness. This relates more to sanctification; these
works can in no way secure for us a right status with God, for they are rather
evidences of the grace of God, pardoned and accepted by God in virtue of our
union with Christ. See Institutes, 3.17.5–10; Lane, Justification, 33–36; William B.
Evans, Imputation and Impartation: Union with Christ in American Reformed
Theology (Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, 2008), 30–32; Mark A. Garcia, Life in Christ:
Union with Christ and Twofold Grace in Calvin’s Theology (Milton Keynes, UK:
Paternoster, 2008), 74–78. Nor are we excluding the point that Calvin makes in
Institutes, 3.11.10, that it is in union with Christ by faith that we are justified.
180. Latter-day exponents of this passage, who argue that evangelical graces
should be considered in relation to justification, have wrenched the words from
their immediate polemical context and thus distorted the Assembly’s teaching,
which in this case was accepted right across the board. See Letham,
Westminster Assembly, 250–76.
181. Thomas F. Torrance, Scottish Theology: From John Knox to John McLeod
Campbell (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1996), 144.
182. Edward D. Morris, Theology of the Westminster Symbols: A Commentary
Historical, Doctrinal, Practical on the Confession of Faith and Catechisms, and
the Related Formularies of Presbyterian Churches (Columbus, OH, 1900), 442–
43.
183. Institutes, 3.11.10. For an extensive study on Calvin’s teaching on union
with Christ, see Garcia, Life in Christ.
184. Lane, Justification, 18.
185. “Christum, qua homo & Mediator est, fuisse ante omnes nos electum &
praedestinatum ut caput esset omnium praedestinandorum, hoc est, totius
Ecclesiae. Deinde significatur, sicut nunc per & propter Christum Mediatorem,
reapse benedicimur omni benedictione spirituali, in colestibus, vocamur,
iustificamur & tandem glorificabimur: sic etiam in hoc eodem Christo Mediatore,
tanquam in capite nos fuisse ab aeterno a Patre praecognotos, amatos, electos,
& ad vocationem, iustificationem, glorificationem, omnesque spirituales
benedictiones praedestinatos.” Zanchius, Operum, 2:537.
186. “Sicut qui nunc iustificantur per & propter Christum, ante Mundi
constitutionem fuerunt ad hanc iustificationem in Christo praedestinati: ita qui
nunquam per & propter Christum iustificantur, eos fuisse nunquam in Christo ad
iustificationem electos.” Ibid.
187. “Quicquid igitur bonorum, aut habemus extra nos, aut in nobis
possidemus, possessurive fuimus: totum illud nobis fuisse & preparatum &
donatum in Christo: extra Christum autem omnino nihil.” Ibid.
188. “Electio hominum aeternum servandorum, est praedestinatio quae Deus
ab aeterno dedit Christo eos homines quorum voluit misereri, et illis daret vitam
aeternam. . . . In filios adoptare in Christo, iustificare in Christo & glorificare
vellet, ut Christi gloriam in aeternum spectent, & in ipso sint particeps caelestis
haereditatis & vitae aeternae.” Polanus, Syntagma, 1:680.
189. Ibid., 1:681.
190. Heinrich Heppe, Reformed Dogmatics: Set Out and Illustrated from the
Sources, trans. Ernst Bizer and G. T. Thomson (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1950), 543.
 191. See the pertinent discussion in Richard B. Gaffin Jr., By Faith, Not by
Sight: Paul and the Order of Salvation (Milton Keynes, UK: Paternoster, 2006),
50–52. Gaffin states, “In union with Christ, his righteousness is the ground of my
being justified. That is, in my justification his righteousness becomes my
righteousness. But this . . . is virtually and necessarily to be at the notion of
imputation . . . An imputative aspect is integral, indispensable to the justification
given in union with Christ.”
192. Rowland Stedman, The Mystical Union of Believers with Christ, or A
Treatise Wherein That Great Mystery and Priviledge of the Saints Union with the
Son of God Is Opened (London: W. R. for Thomas Parkhurst, at the Golden-Bible
on London-Bridge, under the gate, 1668), 200, Wing / 335:13.
193. Ibid., 202.
194. Ibid., 202–3.
195. Ibid., 206.
196. Ibid., 207.
197. Ibid., 210–11.
198. Ibid., 213.
199. Ibid.
200. Letham, Westminster Assembly, 271–72.
201. For an excellent discussion of this question, see Lane G. Tipton, “Union
with Christ and Justification,” in Justified in Christ: God’s Plan for Us in
Justification, ed. K. Scott Oliphint (Fearn, Ross-shire, UK: Mentor, 2007), 23–50.
202. See, inter alia, Evans, Imputation and Impartation; Gaffin, By Faith, Not
by Sight; Garcia, “Imputation and the Christology of Union with Christ,” 219–51;
Michael S. Horton, Covenant and Salvation: Union with Christ (Louisville:
Westminster John Knox Press, 2007); Tipton, “Union with Christ and
Justification,” 23–50; Bruce L. McCormack, “What’s at Stake in the Current
Debates over Justification? The Crisis of Protestantism in the West,” in
Justification: What’s at Stake in the Current Debates, ed. Mark Husbands and
Daniel J. Treier (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2004), 81–117.
203. As Lane Tipton puts it, “Union with Christ allows Paul to speak in
relational and judicial categories simultaneously, without conflating either into
the other.” Lane G. Tipton, “Union with Christ and Justification,” in Justified in
Christ: God’s Plan for Us in Justification, ed. K. Scott Oliphint (Fearn, Ross-shire,
UK: Mentor, 2007), 38.
204. This principle is well expressed by Michael Horton, who considers
Christ’s resurrection as a forensic verdict by the Father. Michael S. Horton,
Covenant and Salvation: Union with Christ (Louisville: Westminster John Knox
Press, 2007), 267–307.
205. See John Murray, “Definitive Sanctification,” CTJ 2, 1 (1967): 5–21. This
was republished in John Murray, Collected Writings of John Murray, vol. 2, Select
Lectures in Systematic Theology (Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1977), 277–84 .
Note the strong criticisms of Murray’s innovative concept of definitive
sanctification by J. V. Fesko, “Sanctification and Union with Christ: A Reformed
Perspective,” EQ 82, 3 (2010): 197–214.
206. R. W. A. Letham, “Calling,” in New Dictionary of Theology, ed. Sinclair B.
Ferguson, David F. Wright, and J. I. Packer (Leicester, UK: Inter-Varsity Press,
1988), 119–20.
 207. John Murray, Redemption Accomplished and Applied (London: Banner of
Truth, 1961), 161–62.
208.Richard B. Gaffin Jr., The Centrality of the Resurrection: A Study in Paul’s
Soteriology (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1978), 135–43; Richard B. Gaffin Jr., By Faith,
Not by Sight: Paul and the Order of Salvation (Milton Keynes, UK: Paternoster,
2006).
209. William B. Evans, Imputation and Impartation: Union with Christ in
American Reformed Theology (Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, 2008); Tim J. Trumper,
“Covenant Theology and Constructive Calvinism,” WTJ 64 (2002): 387–404.
210. Vos writes of the Spirit’s proper sphere as “the future aeon; from thence,
he projects himself into the present, and becomes a prophecy of himself in his
eschatological operations” and as “the element, as it were, in which, as in its
circumambient atmosphere the life of the coming aeon shall be lived.”
Geerhardus Vos, The Pauline Eschatology (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1972), 165,
163.
211. See Robert Letham, The Westminster Assembly: Reading Its Theology in
Historical Context (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R Publishing, 2009), 242–92.
212. See Robert Letham, Through Western Eyes: Eastern Orthodoxy; A
Reformed Perspective (Fearn, Ross-shire, UK: Mentor, 2007).
213. This is often called deification.
214. Athanasius, On the Incarnation, 54; PG, 25:192.
215. Donald Fairbairn, “Patristic Soteriology: Three Trajectories,” JETS 50, 2
(June 2007): 297–304.
216. Ibid., 298–310.
217. Norman Russell, The Doctrine of Deification in the Greek Patristic
Tradition (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004), 168.
218. Athanasius, Orations against the Arians, 1:38–39; PG, 26:92–93.
219. Athanasius, Against the Arians, 3:23, 33–34; PG, 26:369, 373, 393–97.
220. Athanasius, Letters to Serapion on the Holy Spirit, 1:23–24; PG, 26:584–
89.
221. Athanasius, Serapion, 1:24; PG, 26:584c.
222. Russell, Deification, 176–77.
223. Ibid., 178.
224. Ibid., 191–92.
225. Cyril of Alexandria, Expositio Sive Commentarius in Ioannes Evangelium,
on John 14:23; PG, 74:291.
226. Russell, Deification, 192–94.
227. Cyril of Alexandria, In Ioannes Evangelium, lib. 11; PG, 74:541d.
228. Russell, Deification, 197.
229. Ibid., 198–99; Thomas G. Weinandy, “Cyril and the Mystery of the
Incarnation,” in The Theology of St. Cyril of Alexandria: A Critical Appreciation,
ed. Thomas G. Weinandy and Daniel A. Keating (London: T&T Clark, 2003), 23–
54.
230. Russell, Deification, 200–201; Cyril of Alexandria, Dialogue on the Most
Holy Trinity, 7:639e–640e; PG, 75:1089.
231. Russell, Deification, 201.
232. Ibid., 202–3.
233. Ibid., 204.
 234. Ibid., 193–94.
235. James Starr asks whether Peter relapses into Hellenistic dualism at this
point. No, Starr concludes—he follows a Pauline and early Christian view of the
world. Corruption is not the result of matter, but of sin. If deification is equality
with God or absorption into the divine essence, Peter does not teach it. If,
however, it is participation in and enjoyment of certain divine attributes, in part
now and fully at Christ’s return, the answer is yes, Peter does teach it. James
Starr, “Does 2 Peter 1:4 Speak of Deification?” in Partakers of the Divine Nature:
The History and Development of Deification in the Christian Traditions, ed.
Michael J. Christensen and Jeffery A. Wittung (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic,
2007), 81–92.
236. LN, 1:732.
237. Cf. LS, 2:1143.
238. Stephen Finlan says that it depends on what one means by theōsis as to
whether Paul taught it. It cannot be separated from the sacrificial interchange
associated with the death of Christ. He speaks of transformation, both
progressive and eschatological, into the image of Christ. Stephen Finlan, “Can
We Speak of Theōsis in Paul?” in Partakers of the Divine Nature: The History and
Development of Deification in the Christian Traditions, ed. Michael J. Christensen
and Jeffery A. Wittung (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2007), 68–80.
239. This pervasion is somewhat akin to marriage, in which the two become
one flesh. Marriage unites a man and a woman, but it does not diminish either
one or eliminate their proper characteristics.
240. Incidentally, this is why naturalistic evolution is incompatible with the
Christian faith, for man is made to be in union with God—in Christ and
permeated by the Holy Spirit. This, not a particular exegesis of a single word in
Genesis 1, utterly demarcates Christianity from evolutionism.
241. Dumitru Staniloae, The Experience of God: Orthodox Dogmatic Theology,
vol. 1, Revelation and Knowledge of the Triune God, ed. and trans. Ioan Ionita
and Robert Barringer (Brookline, MA: Holy Cross Orthodox Press, 1994), 276,
248.
242. Nicolaus Cabasilas, Life in Christ, trans. Margaret I. Lisney (London:
Janus, 1995), 44.
243. Panayiotis Nellas, Deification in Christ: Orthodox Perspectives on the
Nature of the Human Person, ed. Norman Russell (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s
Seminary Press, 1987), 120.
244. Ibid., 122–23.
245. Cabasilas, Life in Christ, 5–6.
246. Ibid., 48–49.
247. Ibid., 93–105.
248. For further reading on deification, see A. N. Williams, The Ground of
Union: Deification in Aquinas and Palamas (New York: Oxford University Press,
1999); Carl Mosser, “The Greatest Possible Blessing: Calvin and Deification,” SJT
55 (2002): 36–57; Emil Bartos, Deification in Eastern Orthodox Theology: An
Evaluation and Critique of the Theology of Dumitru Staniloae (Carlisle, UK:
Paternoster, 1999).
249. Gerald Bonner, “Deification, Divinization,” in Augustine through the
Ages: An Encyclopedia, ed. Allan D. Fitzgerald, OSA (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans,
1999), 265–66.
250. François Dolbeau, “Nouveaux Sermons de Saint Augustin Pour la
Conversion Des Païens et Des Donatistes,” Revue des Études Augustiniennes 39,
1 (1993): 97.
251. Ibid., 98.
252. In the case of Aquinas, see Williams, The Ground of Union, 34–101; in the
case of Palamas, see ibid., 129–37.
253. Ibid., 174.
254. Ibid.
255. Gösta Hallonstein, “Theōsis in Recent Research: A Renewal of Interest
and a Need for Clarity,” in Partakers of the Divine Nature: The History and
Development of Deification in the Christian Traditions, ed. Michael J. Christensen
and Jeffery A. Wittung (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2007), 281–93.
256. Tuomo Mannermaa, “Justification and Theōsis in Lutheran-Orthodox
Perspective,” in Union with Christ: The New Finnish Interpretation of Luther, ed.
Carl E. Braaten and Robert W. Jenson (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998), 25–41.
257. Tuomo Mannermaa, “Why Is Luther So Fascinating? Modern Finnish
Luther Research,” in Union with Christ: The New Finnish Interpretation of Luther,
ed. Carl E. Braaten and Robert W. Jenson (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998), 14–
15.
258. Further discussion of these themes in the Finnish school can be found in
Robert W. Jenson, “Response to Mark Seifrid, Paul Metzger, and Carl Trueman on
Finnish Luther Research,” WTJ 65 (2003): 245–50; Paul Louis Metzger, “Mystical
Union with Christ: An Alternative to Blood Transfusions and Legal Fictions,” WTJ
65 (2003): 201–13; Mark A. Seifrid, “Paul, Luther, and Justification in Gal. 2:15–
21,” WTJ 65 (2003): 215–30; Carl R. Trueman, “Is the Finnish Line a New
Beginning? A Critical Assessment of the Reading of Luther Offered by the
Helsinki Circle,” WTJ 65 (2003): 231–44.
259. Lowell C. Green, “Faith, Righteousness, and Justification: New Light on
Their Development under Luther and Melanchthon,” SCJ 4 (1972): 65–86.
260. Steven E. Ozment, The Age of Reform 1250–1550 (New Haven: Yale
University Press, 1980), 240–41.
261. See Letham, Through Western Eyes, 243–65.
262. Vos argues that the phrases “in the Spirit” and “in Christ,” when the
latter is not used forensically, are equivalent in meaning in Paul’s soteriology.
Vos, Pauline Eschatology, 166.
263. OS, 1:129.
264. CO, 107; John Calvin, Commentarius in Epistolam Pauli Ad Romanos,
Ioannis Calvini Opera Omnia (Genève: Librairie Droz, 1999), 121.
265. CO, 49:107; Calvin, Ad Romanos, 120.
266. Calvin, Ad Romanos, 13:121.
267. John Calvin, Calvin: Theological Treatises, ed. J. K. S. Reid (Philadelphia:
Westminster Press, 1954), 166.
268. Ibid., 146.
269. CO, 6:127–28; ibid., 137.
270. John Calvin, Calvin’s Commentaries: The First Epistle of Paul the Apostle
to the Corinthians, trans. David W. Torrance and John W. Fraser (Grand Rapids:
Eerdmans, 1960), 130.
 271. Ibid., 246; CO, 49:487.
272. John Calvin, Calvin’s Commentaries: The Epistles of Paul to the Galatians,
Ephesians, Philippians and Colossians, trans. T. H. L. Parker (Grand Rapids:
Eerdmans, 1965), 208–9; John Calvin, Commentarii in Pauli Epistolas, Ioannis
Calvini Opera Omnia (Genève: Librairie Droz, 1992), 16:272.
273. Calvin, Epistles of Paul, 209; Calvin, In Pauli Epistolas, 16:273.
274. Calvin, Epistles of Paul, 209–10; Calvin, In Pauli Epistolas, 16:273.
275. John Calvin, Calvin’s Commentaries: The Epistle of Paul the Apostle to
the Hebrews and the First and Second Epistles of St. Peter, trans. W. B. Johnston
(Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1963), 330; John Calvin, Commentarii in Epistolas
Canonicas, Ioannis Calvini Opera Omnia (Genève: Librairie Droz, 2009), 20:327.
276. Calvin, Commentaries on Hebrews and 1&2 Peter, 330; Calvin, In
Epistolas Canonicas, 20:328.
277. This is evident in the lack in Garcia’s bibliography of primary or
secondary sources on the Greek patristic tradition. He assumes that the Eastern
position necessarily entails a merging of divine and human, a participation in the
essence of God. In fact, his otherwise outstanding exposition of Calvin’s views is
very close to what we have seen of the Alexandrian tradition of deification. See
my remarks in note 122 below on the difference between Calvin and Osiander
lying not in any denial of theōsis by Calvin but in his opposition to Osiander’s
claim of an unmediated infusion of the divine substance, Calvin agreeing on
such participation on the basis that it happens by the mediation of the incarnate
flesh of Christ. This insight was pointed out by a research student of mine,
Andrew Ollerton. See Mark A. Garcia, Life in Christ: Union with Christ and Twofold
Grace in Calvin’s Theology (Milton Keynes, UK: Paternoster, 2008), 209f., 257–
58.
278. Anthony N. S. Lane, John Calvin: Student of the Church Fathers (Grand
Rapids: Baker, 1999), 67–86, 170–75, 232–34.
279. Garcia, Life in Christ, 210–11.
280. John Calvin, Calvin’s Commentaries: The Gospel according to St. John
11–21 and the First Epistle of John, trans. T. H. L. Parker (Grand Rapids:
Eerdmans, 1959), 84; John Calvin, In Evangelium Secundum Johannem
Commentarius Pars Altera, Ioannis Calvini Opera Omnia (Genève: Librairie Droz,
1998), 11, 2:150.
281. Calvin, Gospel of John and 1 John, 148; Calvin, In Evangelium Johannem
Pars Altera, 11, 2:223.
282. English quotations from this correspondence are my translation.
283. CO, 15:494.
284. Ibid.
285. Ibid.
286. Ibid.
287. Ibid., 15:495.
288. Ibid., 15:724.
289. Ibid., 15:722–23.
290. Ibid., 15:723.
291. Ibid.
292. Ibid.
293. Ibid., 9:65.
 294. Institutes, 3.1.1.
295. Ibid., 3.1.2.
296. Ibid., 3.1.4.
297. Ibid., 3.2.24.
298. Ibid.
299. Ibid., 3.11.8; OS, 4:190.
300. Institutes, 3.11.10; OS, 4:191.
301. Institutes, 3.11.23; OS, 4:206–7.
302. Institutes, 3.15.5; OS, 4:245.
303. Institutes, 3.15.6; OS, 4:245.
304. Institutes, 3.16.1; OS, 4:248–49.
305. Institutes, 4.1.2; OS, 5:4.
306. Institutes, 4.14.16; OS, 5:274.
307. Institutes, 4.15.5; OS, 5:288.
308. Institutes, 4.15.6; OS, 5:289.
309. Institutes, 4.17.4; CO, 5:345.
310. Institutes, 4.17.5; CO, 5:346–47.
311. Institutes, 4.17.9; OS, 5:350–51.
312. Institutes, 4.17.10; OS, 5:351–52.
313. OS, 5:355–56; Institutes, 4.17.12.
314. Calvin, Theological Treatises, 267.
315. Ibid., 268.
316. Ibid.
317. Ibid., 278.
318. Ibid., 287.
319. Ibid., 281.
320. Mosser, “Calvin and Deification.”
321. Jonathan Slater, “Salvation as Participation in the Humanity of the
Mediator in Calvin’s Institutes of the Christian Religion: A Reply to Carl Mosser,”
SJT 58 (2005): 39–58.
322. See chapter 1.
323. At times, however, Calvin’s own Christology raises questions. In his
comments on 1 Corinthians 15:27–28, he states that Christ will hand the
kingdom from his humanity to his divinity (as if the two were separable).
Moreover, Christ’s humanity keeps us from a nearer vision of God, and so in
glorification it will no longer be between us and God. This more than suggests
that Calvin viewed the two natures in such distinction as to verge on separation.
He seems to suggest the same thing in Institutes, 2.14.3. This may explain his
own equivocation on deification. It is in striking contrast to his correct teaching
that Christ’s humanity, far from keeping us from God, is the means by which we
come to know him. In fact, in the context of 2.14.3–4, Calvin clearly opposes
Nestorius, so we must conclude that his statements in these places were
untypically careless. See Yang-Ho Lee, “Calvin on Deification: A Reply to Carl
Mosser and Jonathan Slater,” SJT 63 (2010): 272–84, for an analysis of both
Mosser and Slater, in which he attempts to correct the imbalances he perceives
them to have.
324. Osiander published his Disputation on Justification in 1550, the year after
Calvin and Heinrich Bullinger reached an agreement on the sacraments, in the
Consensus Tigurinus, in response to the Augsburg Interim of 1548, which
parceled out political jurisdictions in Europe between Roman Catholics and
Lutherans, leaving the Reformed isolated. See the new section in the 1559
Institutes, 3.5–11, written expressly to counter Osiander. Here, as one of my
research students, Andrew Ollerton, has pointed out to me, Calvin opposes
Osiander’s claim on the unmediated infusion of divine substance with his own
position on mediation of the divine nature through the incarnate flesh of Christ,
a point that Calvin scholars have generally missed.
325. On Calvin and the Lord’s Supper, see B. A. Gerrish, Grace and Gratitude:
The Eucharistic Theology of John Calvin (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1993);
Thomas J. Davis, The Clearest Promises of God: The Development of Calvin’s
Eucharistic Teaching (New York: AMS Press, 1995); Thomas J. Davis, This Is My
Body: The Presence of Christ in Reformation Thought (Grand Rapids: Baker
Academic, 2008), 65–90, 127–48; Ronald S. Wallace, Calvin’s Doctrine of the
Word and Sacrament (Edinburgh: Oliver and Boyd, 1953); Keith A. Mathison,
Given for You: Reclaiming Calvin’s Doctrine of the Lord’s Supper (Phillipsburg, NJ:
P&R Publishing, 2002), 3–48; Robert Letham, The Lord’s Supper: Eternal Word in
Broken Bread (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R Publishing, 2001), 31–37.
326. See Robert Letham, “Amandus Polanus: A Neglected Theologian?” SCJ 21
(1990): 463–76; Muller calls him “a theologian of considerable stature.” Richard
A. Muller, Christ and the Decree: Christology and Predestination in Reformed
Theology from Calvin to Perkins (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1986), 130. Muller also
calls him “the most compendious systematic theologian of the early orthodox
period” of Reformed scholasticism. Richard A. Muller, After Calvin: Studies in the
Development of a Theological Tradition (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003),
148.
327. Amandus Polanus, Partitiones Theologicae, 2nd ed. (Basel, 1590), 59–60.
328. “Ea dicitue etiam conjunctio, unio, coalitio cum Christi, insitio in
Christum, manducatio carnis Christi, bibito sanguinis Christi, Anakephalaiōsis, id
est, reductio sub unum caput, conjunctio in unum corpus sub uno capito Christi.
Ephes.1.10. Ablutio sanguine Christi, vivificatio nostri, excitatio nostri ex
mortuis, collocatio nostri in coelis unam cum Christo.” Ibid., 82–83.
329. Ibid., 84–85.
330. Ibid., 127.
331. Amandus Polanus, Syntagma Theologiae Christianae (Geneva: Petri
Auberti, 1612), 2:330b.
332. Ibid., 2:330e.
333. Ibid., 2:330e–f.
334. Ibid., 2:330g.
335. Ibid., 2:330g–331c.
336. Ibid., 2:331c.
337. Ibid., 2:331g–h.
338. “Eadem unio est essentialis: quia nos licet in terris corporibus nostris &
substantia animae exsistentes, tamen & cum divina Christi natura in nobis
habitante, & cum humana, quam iam in coelo est, per eundem Spiritum
Sanctum in illa & in nobis manentem vere copulamur, non minus quam per
animam capiti brachia, tibiae, pedes & reliqua membra corporis coniunguntur:
ac proinde non tantum donorum, sed etiam substantiae Christi communicatione
unio haec constat.” The union is substantial, actual, and corporeal: not in terms
of its manner, which is spiritual, but in respect of the subjects or objects united,
since that is true substance and nature, his body and our nature affine; and we
are truly joined to the substance and both natures of Christ and thus to his body:
“sed respectu subiecti seu obiecti cum unimur, quia illud est vera substantia &
natura, verum ipsius corpus & nostrae naturae affine: & substantiae & naturae
Christi utrique atque sic & corpori eius vere iungimur.” Polanus, Syntagma,
2:332b–c.
339. Ibid., 2:332d.
340. Ibid., 2:332e–f.
341. Ibid., 2:434a–b.
342. Ibid., 2:455c–d.
343. Ibid., 2:455e.
344. Ibid., 2:455h.
345. Ibid., 2:456d.
346. Rowland Stedman, The Mystical Union of Believers with Christ, or A
Treatise Wherein That Great Mystery and Priviledge of the Saints Union with the
Son of God Is Opened (London: W. R. for Thomas Parkhurst, at the Golden-Bible
on London-Bridge, under the gate, 1668), 239–60, Wing / 335:13.
347. Nellas, Deification in Christ, 119.
348. Philip Schaff, The Creeds of Christendom (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1966),
3:467–70.
349. Wayne Spear, “The Nature of the Lord’s Supper according to Calvin and
the Westminster Assembly,” and “Calvin and Westminster on the Lord’s Supper:
Exegetical and Theological Considerations,” in The Westminster Confession into
the 21st Century: Essays in Rememberance [Sic] of the 350th Anniversary of the
Westminster Assembly, vol. 3, ed. J. Ligon Duncan III (Fearn, Ross-shire, UK:
Mentor, 2009), 355–414.
350. John Williamson Nevin, The Mystical Presence: A Vindication of the
Reformed or Calvinistic Doctrine of the Holy Eucharist (1846; repr., Eugene, OR:
Wipf & Stock, 2000); John Williamson Nevin, “The Doctrine of the Reformed
Church on the Lord’s Supper,” Mercersburg Review 2 (1850): 421–548. See also
a critical reply to Charles Hodge’s review of The Mystical Presence and William
Cunningham’s criticisms of Calvin: John Adger, “Calvin Defended against Drs.
Cunningham and Hodge,” available at
http://www.pcahistory.org/HCLibrary/periodicals/spr/v27/27-1-6.pdf.
351. Nevin, Mystical Presence, 155–74.
352. D. G. Hart, John Williamson Nevin: High-Church Calvinist (Phillipsburg, NJ:
P&R Publishing, 2005), 76.
353. Evans, Imputation and Impartation, 141–83.
354. See William B. Evans, “Twin Sons of Different Mothers: The Remarkable
Theological Convergence of John W. Nevin and Thomas F. Torrance,” Haddington
House Journal 11 (2009): 155–73.
355. Evans, Imputation and Impartation, 187–227.
356. Cabasilas, Life in Christ, 5–6.
357. Ibid., 48–49.
358. Ibid., 93–105.
359. See also John 5:24–25; 1 Cor. 1:18–2:5.
 360. George R. Beasley-Murray, John, Word Biblical Commentary (Waco, TX:
Word, 1987), 94–95; D. A. Carson, The Gospel according to St John (Leicester,
UK: Inter-Varsity Press, 1991), 288–98.
361. Robert Bruce, The Mystery of the Lord’s Supper: Sermons on the
Sacrament Preached in the Kirk of Edinburgh in A.D. 1589, ed. Thomas F. Torrance
(London: James Clarke, 1958), 85.
362. Philip Schaff, Augustin: Letters or Tractates on the Gospel according to
St. John, Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers of the Christian Church, 1st ser.
(Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1995), 7:344; PL, 35:1840.
363. In the words of Robert Bruce, “I call them signs because they have the
Body and Blood of Christ conjoined with them. Indeed, so truly is the Body of
Christ conjoined with the bread, and the Blood of Christ conjoined with the wine,
that as soon as you receive the bread in your mouth (if you are a faithful man or
woman) you receive the Body of Christ in your soul, and that by faith. And as
soon as you receive the wine in your mouth, you receive the Blood of Christ in
your soul, and that by faith. It is chiefly because of this function that they are
instruments to deliver and exhibit the things that they signify . . . [for] the
Sacrament exhibits and delivers the thing that it signifies to the soul and heart,
as soon as the sign is delivered to the mouth.” Bruce, The Mystery of the Lord’s
Supper, 44.
364. Institutes, 4.17.10.
365. Horton, Covenant and Salvation, 285, 302.
366. Russell, Deification, 225–32.
367. Horton, Covenant and Salvation, 272–307.
368. I am sure that this is something with which Horton would agree. It is to
the apparent drift of his argument that I refer.
369. It was at Passover that the Lamb of God offered himself as the definitive
sacrifice for sin; it was when the day of Pentecost had fully come that the Holy
Spirit was sent.
370. Institutes, 3.2.24.
371. Lane G. Tipton, “Union with Christ and Justification,” in Justified in Christ:
God’s Plan for Us in Justification, ed. K. Scott Oliphint (Fearn, Ross-shire, UK:
Mentor, 2007), 24–25.
372. This is a difficult passage to interpret. I am referring to the souls who
reign with Christ on the basis that “the first resurrection” (v. 5) is the
resurrection of Christ (I know of no other resurrection that could be called the
first), and so those who reign with him are united to him in his resurrection,
including believers struggling against persecution in the seven churches of Asia
Minor, to which Revelation is addressed.
373. Tipton, “Union,” 26.
374. Ibid., 27–31.
375. Calvin, Institutes, 3.6.5.
376. Ibid., 3.9.5.
377. See the chapter “The One Baptism Common to Christ and His Church,”
in Thomas F. Torrance, Theology in Reconciliation (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans,
1975), 82–105.
 378. Anthony N. S. Lane, Justification by Faith in Catholic-Protestant Dialogue:
An Evangelical Assessment (London: T&T Clark, 2002), 186.
379. Underlying opposition to a robust doctrine of the sacraments is a form of
gnosticism that has infected evangelical Protestantism and has spread to
Reformed churches as well. This takes a subtle form, in which spiritual realities
are divorced from the material realm. There needs to be a strong reminder that
“in the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth” (Gen. 1:1).
380. John Calvin, Calvin’s Commentaries: The Epistles of Paul the Apostle to
the Romans and to the Thessalonians, trans. Ross MacKenzie (Grand Rapids:
Eerdmans, 1973), 105.
 Table of Contents
Contents
Acknowledgments
Abbreviations
Introduction
1: Creation
2: Incarnation
3: Pentecost
4: Union with Christ and Representation
5: Union with Christ and Transformation
6: Union with Christ in Death and Resurrection
Bibliography
Index of Scripture
Index of Subjects and Names
 Table of Contents
Contents
Acknowledgments
Abbreviations
Introduction
1: Creation
2: Incarnation
3: Pentecost
4: Union with Christ and Representation
5: Union with Christ and Transformation
6: Union with Christ in Death and Resurrection
Bibliography
Index of Scripture
Index of Subjects and Names