A blog drawn from the writings of Thomas Cogswell Upham (1799-1872).
I move best with a gentle wind. A high-spirited heart paired with full sails is dangerous, so I prepare myself for a quieter way of living. I don’t want much, and I actively pray against wanting much. My work — my calling — is my study. I ask for whatever genuinely serves that calling, and does not distract me from it. Beyond that, I want nothing more.
“The life I now live in the flesh, I live by faith in the Son of God.”
These and similar passages point to a central truth: the Christian life is meant to be lived by faith, not by constant, visible certainty. It is a life shaped by trust rather than by open vision.
Faith itself takes many forms, each valuable in its proper place, and all connected — more or less closely — to the life of faith. But the particular kind of faith that most directly sustains this life is the one that makes God present in every moment and in every event. The absence of this kind of faith is a major source of spiritual weakness. Because of this lack, many people who genuinely believe in God, in Christ, and even in their own final salvation still make very little progress in holiness.
They tend to hold to a general, abstract faith — one that deals in broad ideas rather than specific realities. By doing so, they place God at a distance. In contrast, a faith that is concrete and particular brings God near. It makes Him present and personal in every concern of life and establishes a continuous, living relationship between God and the soul.
That raises a thoughtful and worthwhile question: what exactly is the relationship between them?
To begin, assurance of faith and perfect love relate to each other as cause and effect, or more precisely, as what comes first and what follows. Assurance of faith naturally and necessarily comes before perfect love.
Some theologians — capable thinkers, to be sure — have tried to reverse this order. They argue that love comes first, and that faith grows out of love, making perfect love the foundation of assurance. But it’s hard to see how this position holds up, either logically or biblically.
\Dennis Metzler presents Thomas C. Upham's case for pacifism:
Metzler has followed this up with videos on Pacifism among the Early Pentecostals, as well.
It’s hardly necessary to say much more to highlight just how important the assurance of faith really is. Anyone who genuinely longs for holiness of heart will naturally place great value on assurance, because holiness — understood in the gospel sense — is simply perfect love. And perfect love grows out of a mature, confident faith. In other words, deep assurance and deep holiness rise together.
When we look carefully at what assurance of faith actually is, it seems to rest on two essential elements. First, there is a steady, unshakable confidence in God — his character, his ways, and his promises. Second, there is a confident belief that we ourselves are accepted by God through Christ. Assurance is not limited to this personal element alone, as some people assume. Personal confidence rests on a broader, settled trust in God as a whole. Without that foundation, personal assurance has no place to stand.
We have already touched briefly on this second principle before, but it deserves further attention here.
When we consecrate ourselves to God in the way described, we take a step that is absolutely essential from every possible angle. Yet simply offering everything is not enough. In the same spirit of reliance, we must also believe — without wavering — that God has accepted that offering.
This belief is nothing less than trust in God’s faithfulness to His word. It is the confidence that God will receive — and does now receive — all who place themselves without reservation on His altar. This faith, more than anything else, secures the presence of sanctifying power in the soul. On the other hand, someone may consecrate themselves sincerely and yet dishonor God’s truth by failing to believe that their offering is accepted. In doing so, they cut themselves off from the very power that faith alone can bring, leaving themselves exposed and defenseless against the adversary.
— Christ in the Soul (1872) LXXXIX.
From what has already been said, one thing should be clear: real growth in the life of faith is not likely without a settled, personal, and devout act of consecration. If a Christian is unwilling to make such a commitment — or is content merely to wish for it without actually carrying it out through a clear and decisive act — there is little reason to expect deep progress or the kind of inward spiritual experience that I will describe later.
This duty is so important, and so much depends on it, that it deserves careful and focused attention on its own.
How do we move from weak faith to confident faith, from inconsistent love to a love that is whole and mature? How do we experience what Scripture often calls entire sanctification?
In response, we suggest that three essential elements are involved—always in partnership with the work of the Holy Spirit. Without these, holiness will remain more of a theory than a lived reality.