On Christian Perfection: The Role of Systematic Theology

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In a letter to Robert Carr Brackenbury written near the end of his life, John Wesley declared “full sanctification,” otherwise known as Christian perfection, to be the “grand depositum” which “God has lodged with the people called Methodists,” for the propagation of which God “raised us up” (September 15, 1790, in The Letters of John Wesley, ed. John Telford, 1931, 8:238). Even in his own lifetime, the doctrine was frequently controversial, as evidenced by Wesley’s repeated clarifications regarding what he did and did not mean by it. And controversy would continue well beyond Wesley’s death, most notoriously in debates about whether entire sanctification occurs in a moment of self-consecration or through lifelong participation in the means of grace. 

As things turn out, the doctrine of entire sanctification, including questions concerning manner and timing, depends on prior theological judgments concerning a whole host of things, including the person and work of the Holy Spirit, human nature and sin, the meaning and goal of salvation in and through Jesus Christ, and the nature of divine grace, to name just a few. In short, the doctrine of entire sanctification is intimately related to a vast network of other doctrines. Considered apart from patient reflection on these other doctrines, Christian perfection can sound preposterous, even to Christians. When viewed in the light of these other doctrines, the case for Christian perfection becomes more compelling.

Enter systematic theology. Good systematic theology is much more than an abstract or antiquated academic discipline undertaken in ivory tower settings far removed from the spiritual lives of ordinary believers and unbelievers. On the contrary, good systematic theology can aid the church in its proclamation, understanding, and reception of the Gospel of Jesus Christ in all its fullness. To the extent that it does this, systematic theology can even be said to have a role to play in our sanctification. 

If this sounds bizarre, consider these words from the Epistle to the Hebrews: “Therefore, let us go on to perfection, leaving behind the basic teaching about Christ, and not laying again the foundation: repentance from dead works and faith toward God, instruction about baptisms, laying on of hands, resurrection from the dead, and eternal judgment. And we will do this if God permits (Heb 6:1-3).” This passage follows immediately on the heels of an admonishment to move from milk to solid food, from immaturity to maturity, in our understanding of the Gospel. We are told that those who persist on a diet of milk are not acquainted with “the teaching about righteousness” (Heb. 5:13). Similarly, we read that it is only through the “constant use” of solid food that we can come to maturity, learning through training to “distinguish good from evil” (Heb. 5:14). 

Clearly, the author of the Epistle to the Hebrews was not thinking of systematic theology when he urged his readers to move from milk to solid food. Systematic theology did not yet exist. Equally clearly, the author was capable of distinguishing between “basic” and more advanced “teaching,” and he believed that moving on from the former to the latter was crucial for going on to perfection. Of course, when he says that we need to leave behind “basic teaching” about things like repentance, faith, baptism, resurrection from the dead, and eternal judgment, he doesn’t mean that we should forget or discard such things. Rather, he clearly means that we should build upon the foundations, maturing in our understanding of the mysteries of the Christian faith. And he clearly believes that maturity of understanding requires “training.”

In the centuries that followed the writing of the Epistle to the Hebrews, the more advanced training which its author suggested would come to be known in many quarters as catechesis—a word that simply means “instruction.” As part of the preparation for baptism, believers—known as catechumens—would receive extensive teaching concerning the mysteries of the Christian faith. This teaching took the form of commentary, often by a bishop, on one of the early creeds (e.g., the Apostles’ or Nicene Creed). Hence, they would receive instruction on things like the doctrine of the Trinity; the incarnation, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ; the work of the Holy Spirit; church and sacraments; and the life of the world to come. In many places, these instructions would eventually be written down and used by successive generations. Today, we refer to these works collectively as catechisms. They can also be thought of as the first systematic theologies. 

The main difference between catechisms in the early church and modern-day systematic theology is that the former was used to prepare people for baptism, whereas contemporary systematic theologies are usually written for and read by the already baptized. Another difference is that, today, systematic theologies are most often read in college or seminary classrooms by people preparing for Christian ministry. But this does not mean that they do not or cannot contribute to ongoing faith formation and a deepening in one’s knowledge and love of God. The late William J. (“Billy”) Abraham captures this well when he refers to systematic theology as “university-level, post-baptismal instruction” (Divine Agency and Divine Action, vol. 3, p. 9).

While I am fond of this way of thinking about the role of systematic theology, I see no reason why good systematic theology could not also be instrumental in people coming to faith for the first time. For instance, I can readily imagine self-professing atheists reading good systematic theology and coming to the realization that Christians don’t believe in the God that they don’t believe in either. And should they, with the help of the Holy Spirit, begin to contemplate the mystery of the incarnation, death, and resurrection of Christ as the event that discloses God’s true nature and purposes in response to the “problem of evil” (something the worn-out shibboleths at the heart of modern atheism don’t so much as begin to do), they might very well find themselves on their way to repentance and saving faith. In such a case, we can actually think of systematic theology as a form of prevenient grace. 

So, what is good systematic theology? For starters, good systematic theology, like the early catechisms mentioned above, adheres closely to the broad lines of the ecumenical creeds and the Christian theological tradition (what C. S. Lewis dubbed “mere Christianity”). It also follows the broad storyline of the Bible itself, just as the creedal and classical theological tradition does. Thus, it begins with patient reflection on the nature and identity of God, which is the starting point of both the biblical and creedal traditions, and then gradually moves to reflection upon creation, the fall of humanity into sin, and God’s work of restoration and salvation in Israel and in Jesus Christ—a work that will culminate when Christ returns again in glory to judge the living and the dead. Along the way, good Wesleyan systematic theology accentuates the Holy Spirit’s sanctifying work in the hearts and lives of believers and in the sacramental life of the church.

Above all, good systematic theology always strives to speak the truth about God’s nature, identity, and saving purposes for human creatures. It exhibits a deep awareness of the limitations caused by human finitude and fallenness, but it nonetheless speaks with evangelical confidence concerning all that has been disclosed in God’s gracious self-revelation. It is guided from start to finish by Holy Scripture, striving always to be consistent with what the Bible instructs us to believe about God and the world. It seeks to ascertain both what Scripture explicitly teaches and what is implied by biblical teaching. In other words, it asks not only, “What is written?” but, “What must be true in light of what is written?”

Informed by the biblical vision of God, good systematic theology affirms that the Triune God whose nature is holy love is wholly and necessarily and perfectly good. It proclaims that there is no “shadow of turning” in God (Jas 1:17 KJV). It heralds the good news that “God is light, and in Him there is no darkness at all” (1 John 1:5, NASB). Adhering closely to both Scripture and the ecumenical creedal tradition, it confesses that God’s own life is a life of perfect holy love shared between the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, and it reasons from this confession that everything that God does is an expression of who God is. Thus, creation itself—all things visible and invisible—everywhere reflects the goodness of God.

Good systematic theology also acknowledges that, while the whole of creation is good, the highest of God’s creatures turn to sin and depart from that goodness. It exhibits an unflinching recognition of the heinousness and inescapable depths of evil and human sinfulness. But it also bears witness that the Triune God of holy love works to reconcile and redeem human beings. This divine work of salvation begins with God making a covenant with Abraham. Then, the perfectly good Triune God of holy love goes on to keep that covenant from both sides (human and divine) in the incarnation of the second person of the Trinity. Thus, good systematic theology proclaims the utter necessity and sufficiency of divine mercy and grace. And Wesleyan systematic theology hastens to add that saving grace doesn’t just change our legal status before God. It also has the power radically to transform desperate and depraved human sinners into genuine saints. Through the sacramental life of the church, the Holy Spirit unites sinners with Christ, purifying them and preparing them for the holy and loving communion for which the redeemed are destined for all eternity. 

Insofar as systematic theology bears faithful witness to God’s self-revelation, we can say that it is both from God and about God. But good systematic theology must also be done toward God or before God, which is to say, in a spirit of prayer and praise to the Almighty. As the great 19th-century British Methodist dogmatic theologian William Burt Pope once said, “all fit students” of theology must be “worshippers as well as students” (A Compendium of Christian Theology, vol. 1, p. 5). Likewise, good systematic theology must always be accompanied by “the obedience of faith” (Rom 1:5). It should deepen our trust in God and culminate in lives of humble obedience and works of mercy and love. 

To summarize, good systematic theology begins with God, it is about God, and it leads to God. Or, as Pope puts it, “God is the source and the subject and the end of theology…. It is A Deo, De Deo, in Deum: from God in its origin, concerning God in its substance, and it leads to God in all its issues” (Compendium of Christian Theology, vol. 1, pp. 3-4). When undertaken in this way, systematic theology can play a vital role not only in our understanding of entire sanctification, but in our pursuit and experience of it as well.

Jason E. Vickers is the William J. Abraham Professor of Theology and Wesleyan Studies at Baylor University’s Truett Seminary, Waco, TX. Together with Thomas H. McCall, he is the co-author of Love Divine: A Wesleyan Systematic Theology (forthcoming from Eerdmans).