Theology of the Second Estate

 
  Faith

   

Paraphrasing Paul, it is impossible to please God without Faith (Hebrews 11:6). Faith is the hallmark of religion, yet it is poorly explained. What is Faith, and why do we need it? Cynics might say we require faith simply because the things of religion have no basis in any tangible quality. In other words, they might say, faith substitutes for reality, and allows us to delude ourselves with any number of vain imaginings. Certainly a comparison of all of the religions of man in which we have "faith" would indicate that there is no single object of our faith. With faith so important, and yet so nebulous, it is critical that we understand it well, both for what it is as for what it does for us.

It is obvious that the prophets have faith. It is also true that the newest convert can profess faith. Faith is a term similar to the phrase "playing tennis". The first time you pick up a racquet and a ball and hit it to another person, you are "playing tennis". When you can actually play a game, you are still "playing tennis". At the ultimate extreme, the pros at Wimbledon are still "playing tennis". The phrase "playing tennis" is not very precise. It does not define a single action, but an entire spectrum of action and ability.

Likewise faith describes a spectrum of action and ability. We begin with the smallest and weakest of faiths, but it is faith nevertheless. We learn and grow, and some may reach the strengths of faith exhibited by the prophets.

The Book of Alma contains the best lessons on faith in any of the canon of scripture, with chapter 32 containing Alma's discourse on the subject. When Alma preaches about the nature of faith, he does so in terms which describe the spectrum, not a single point along the line. For Alma, faith is a process, a living thing which must grow and mature.

At the beginning of the spectrum, Alma defines what might be termed the lowest form of faith:

27. But behold, if ye will awake and arouse your faculties, even to an experiment upon my words, and exercise a particle of faith, yea, even if ye can no more than desire to believe, let this desire work in you, even until ye believe in a manner that ye can give place for a portion of my words (Alma 32:27).

Alma is speaking to the outcasts of a self-righteous community of Zoram. They were the dregs of the earth, and perhaps felt little faith, even in themselves. Alma assumes that they are in a state of "no-faith" in the principles of the gospel, and he tells them how to move from that beginning to a greater faith. To do so requires some action, it requires that they exercise a "particle of faith". In other words, it takes a little bit of faith to begin the process to develop faith. How small could that particle of faith be?

Alma proclaims that the lowest form of faith does not even require belief. Belief is already somewhere higher on the spectrum. At the low end, it is simply required that there be a desire to believe. Of course, that desire to believe must be sufficiently strong that they are willing to act upon it, to experiment upon his words, and to exercise their 'faith-muscles'.

Earlier in the Book of Alma is recounted the story of Aaron and a Lamanite king identified only as the father of Lamoni, another Lamanite king. Aaron is preaching to the king, and the king becomes curious about the things that Aaron proclaims to him. Eventually, the king desires to know what he must do to be born of God (Alma 22:15). What follows is the most remarkable demonstration of the efficacy of exercising the lowest form of faith. Aaron tells the king that to be born of God he must repent, call on God, and then he will receive his desire (Alma 22:16). The Lamanite king takes Aaron's advice an utters a remarkable prayer:

O God, Aaron hath told me that there is a God; and if there is a God, and if thou are God, wilt thou make thyself known unto me, and I will give away all my sins to know thee, and that I may be raised from the dead, and saved at the last day (Alma 22:18).

How little faith did the king have? Look at the string of qualifiers used to open his prayer. He does not know of the existence of God, but says this man Aaron has said there is a God. Then, on the basis of what Aaron says, he addresses this God Aaron talked about. He says if there is a God, and if thou are God. He not only doesn't know whether there is a God, but he doesn't even know if the one he is praying to really is that God!

The result of this sincere prayer is that the king is overcome with the spirit, and is awash in the glory of God. I must be pointed out, however, that the real crux of the prayer was not the equivocation, which simply pointed out that he was on a low level of faith. What made the prayer effective was his firm commitment to give away all his sins to know God. It was that part of his prayer, that part which actually gave place to a portion of Aaron's words (to use Alma's phrase) which allowed the transformation from the lowest form of faith to a miraculous outpouring of the spirit.

Returning to Alma's discourse on faith, Alma is so complete in his explanation of the process of faith that he explains the need for patience in the process, and continuous nourishment. He likens faith to a growing tree;

37. And behold, as the tree beginneth to grow up, we will say: Let us nourish it with great care, that it may get root, that it may grow up, and bring forth fruit unto us. And now behold, if you nourish it with much care it will get root, and grow up, and bring forth fruit.

38. But if ye neglect the tree, and take no thought for its nourishment, behold it will not get any root; and when the heat of the sun cometh and scorcheth it, because it hath no root it withers away, and ye pluck it up and cast it out (Alma 32:37-38).

Developing a faith like unto Christ's is a process. It has a beginning, and we are given glimpses of the end, but for most of us, our entire mortal lives are spent nourishing our neglecting our faith.

We can best nourish our faith if we understand what faith is, and how it works. If we understand this, we are in a position to understand why Christ linked the process of doing more than we are commanded to the increase in faith (see discussion of Luke 17:5-10 above).

One place to begin is to clearly define what faith is not. I remember working on the definition of faith many years ago, and trying to comprehend the ends of the spectrum. I started at the lower end with ignorance, assuming that it preceded faith. I ended the spectrum with knowledge, assuming that eventually we would all know the things of God and have no need for faith at all. I was wrong on both accounts. While there are similarities between the Ignorance/Knowledge spectrum, the Not Faith/Faith spectrum is entirely different.

The devastating blow to my assumption came directly from the scriptures, which clearly declare that Faith is not Knowledge. During Alma's marvelous discourse on faith he notes that many people wish to have a sign so that they may have faith. He notes:

Yea, there are many who do say: If thou wilt show unto us a sign from heaven, then we shall know of a surety; then we shall believe.

No I ask, is this faith? Behold, I say unto you, Nay; for if a man knoweth a thing he hath no cause to believe, for he knoweth it (Alma 32:17-28).

Alma indicates that when knowledge exists, faith is not needed. In fact, it almost appears that faith and knowledge are competing for the same position, and only one of them can be there at any given time.

Alma further indicates that when we have a perfect knowledge of something, our faith in that thing is dormant (Alma 32:34). We may have faith in something else, but when perfect knowledge exists in a thing, faith fades into the background. From this it might seem that knowledge is more important than faith, yet nowhere has God said that without knowledge it is impossible to please him, as he does of faith, Hebrews 11:6.

If knowledge were more powerful, should it not be more heavily emphasized than faith? Probably. The fact is that it is not, and this very dilemma requires that we understand faith better. The best definition of faith is also the most famous. It is also the most confusing. Paul tells us that "Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen" (Hebrews 11:1). The definition is famous, but what in the world is the substance of things hoped for? Why does that explain faith?

Paul's definition is akin to the questions on certain tests, where you are given an example something like "a rider is to a horse as a driver is to a ...." and you are to fill in the answer based on the conceptual similarities. If we interpret Paul's definition in that form, it begins to make a little more sense.

What is substance? It is something tangible. We can feel it, we can experience substance with our senses. If someone offers you a coat against the cold, you will gladly put it on. We laugh at the story of the Emperor's New Clothes precisely because they had no substance. Put simply, we are willing to interact with objects that have substance. With substance, we have a frame of reference, and we can act on that thing of substance.

Evidence similarly provides a frame of reference for our actions. Numbers have no substance. You cannot hold a mathematical formula in your hand, yet our ability to provide evidence allows us to trust mathematical formulae. We have sufficient faith in the evidence of some non-tangible concepts that we were willing to send men thousands of miles to the moon and back. Those astronauts had more than wishes and hopes, they had the evidence of all the tests which had gone before as a springboard to their journey.

Both substance and evidence share a common conceptual thread. They both serve as a basis for our actions. We act and react to substance in this life. We act and react to concepts for which there is evidence. It is to that thread that Paul likens faith.

For Paul, faith is also a basis for action. For the things we hope for that have no substance, faith stands instead of substance as a basis for our action. When concepts have no evidence, faith becomes the principle upon which we act. This is the context for Alma's discussion of the lowest form of faith. Even that desire to believe required that an action take place, and that the hearer give place to a portion of Alma's words (Alma 32:27).

The reason that the Ignorance/Knowledge continuum gets so frequently confused with the Not Faith/Faith continuum is that they both serve similar functions. Both are motivators to action. If they are similar in function, how are they different?

When a young child is learning to ride a bicycle, the parents put training wheels on the bike and send him on his way. As the parents watch, they see that the child is beginning to learn to balance, and they raise the training wheels so that they are used less. At some point in the process, the parent notices that the child is really riding on two wheels, and is ready to have the training wheels removed.

This is the time of the true test. With the wheels off, the young child faces a dilemma. She knows that she can ride a bicycle with training wheels, and has been doing so. She does not know that she can ride a bicycle without training wheels, and in fact, does know that it can be dangerous. She knows that people have fallen and have failed. What does a child do?

It almost seems too simple to spend a long time analyzing it. Of course the child tries to ride the bicycle, but how does she come to make the decision? The answer is faith. There is no knowledge, only faith in the relationship with her parents. They say she can, and based on her faith in their word, she is willing to try. Once she has ridden the bicycle a few times, then she gains the knowledge that she can ride. Once experience takes over, substance and evidence move her to knowledge, and her faith is dormant.

It happens the same way in all mundane examples of faith. We need faith to take the first step, but when we know a thing, our faith fades to the background. The analogy of faith to a farmer planting seeds misses this critical point. Planting has little to do with faith, for experience tells us what the result of the action may be. Even when there is not a precisely predictable outcome, we know the range of expected outcome. We know that the crop can succeed or fail, and we know many of the factors which can influence the success or failure.

Yet even in the mundane world, faith serves an important role. Faith is a mechanism of change. It is that ability we have to take a step into the darkness, to attempt that which we have never done before. In the temporal world it is quickly and powerfully superseded by knowledge, but when founded in Jesus Christ and tuned to the spiritual realm, it becomes the first principle which transcends mortality and communes with the attributes of Godliness. In the realm of spiritual action, faith is the first principle of progression. Only faith allows us to attune our actions to the principles of holiness so that we begin to stretch our spiritual muscles and experience some of the Joy that awaits us at the end of our process.

As essential features of our eternal progression, Faith and Free Agency are intertwined. Free Agency places us in a position where action is possible. Faith is the mechanism by which we act. One sets the stage, the other performs the play. These two principles are so inherent to the nature of our existence on earth that it impossible to conceive of how we might do without them. They are so important to our eternal progression, that even in their mundane form, they can move us closer to godhood.

Knowing God to desire the exaltation of all of his children, we must understand the role the gospel plays in the lives of those who have never heard of it. To be the plan of a just God, the principles of the gospel must be sufficiently powerful to exalt the Australian aborigine who lived near the time of Moses as well as it does the modern Apostles.

In the history of the world, those who have had the privilege of knowing even a portion of the gospel are in the minority. How does the rest of humanity become exalted? While that is a sufficiently serious question that it requires a series of answers, a part of the answer comes in the changes which occur in all men as they exercise their Free Agency and Faith toward principles of righteousness, wherever they may find them.

To return to the image of the Garden of Eden, the current conditions of this earth began with the eating of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. While it is true that in so doing the principle of Free Agency was made operative, the eating of the fruit had another important effect. Mankind really did gain the capacity to know Good from Evil. Without the guarantee that humanity was capable of distinguishing between Good and Evil, there would have been no hope in a world where Satan's influence could camouflage evil in so many attractive packages.

Moroni reiterates this primordial promise:

15. For behold, my brethren, it is given unto you to judge, that ye may know good from evil; and the way to judge is as plain, that ye may know with a perfect knowledge, as the daylight is from the dark night.

16. For behold, the Spirit of Christ is given to every man, that he may know good from evil... (Moroni 7:15-16).

The Spirit of Christ, or the Light of Christ, is a gift of God. It may even be seen as the gift which accompanied the partaking of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. The Light of Christ is our guarantee that all humanity has the internal measure against which we may test all experience and know of its eternal goodness or evil.

The Light of Christ does not depend upon the preaching of the gospel, it is inherent to our existence wherever we are. How does this Light combine with the principles of Free Agency and Faith to begin to exalt even those who are ignorant of the teachings of the gospel?

For all peoples in all times, in all societies, there is a right and a wrong. While anthropologists know that the definitions of exactly what is right and wrong may vary from culture to culture, yet there is a culturally defined set which creates a known set of "right" and a known set of "wrong". Regardless of where or when we live, humans are always in a position to act on their agency. Faith always works to allow the step into the unknown. Both Free Agency and Faith are principles which operate in the mundane world as well as the spiritual.

When men act, they have the opportunity to test their actions against what they know to be right. To the degree that they choose right, they are making the same exercise of proper agency as those who are conversant with God's plan. To the degree that such people make active choices to follow what they understand to be right, they are, in principle, doing exactly what we are doing when we actively follow the precepts of the gospel.

There may be times in any society, when the cultural definition of "right" is contrary to the definition of God. In all of these cases, there is always the Light of Christ, which knows the difference. All humanity has the opportunity to learn to listen to that eternal measure, and to obey it. We may all choose not only our cultural right, but a higher, eternal right.

Lest we think that this is a farfetched concept for others who do not know the gospel, it is still a principle operative in modern society. Modern American society has a set of definitions about what is "right" in our society. Many of our business practices, many of the books we read, the songs we listen to, may be "right" in the eyes of society, but clearly wrong when measured against the Light of Christ.

All humanity, regardless of their exposure to a knowledge of the plan of God, has the ability to progress by learning to exercise their Free Agency to make correct active choices. All of us have the opportunity to exceed the righteousness of our cultural definitions by listening to the Light of Christ, which can teach us what is right on a higher, eternal plane.

       
      by Brant Gardner. Copyright 1998