In the first place, I am not comfortable with how some use the terms “law” and “gospel”.  Some admit that they use these terms not in their precise biblical sense, but rather as “systematic” categories.  A few may even be so bold to agree that the Torah contains both “law” and “gospel”.  To insist that the “gospel” equals “done” and the “law” equals “do” invites confusion for any serious student of the Bible.  This antithesis causes a host of problems when read back into Scripture, particularly since Paul has a version of law-gospel that bears little resemblance to the  “Lutheran” antithesis.

The Reformed have historically taught that the gospel both promises and commands.  To say that all imperatives are strictly law reflects an Antinomian position, at least historically.  Samuel Rutherford’s work, “Spirituall Antichrist”, highlights the various tendencies among Antinomian writers of the seventeenth century.  One way to explain what’s at stake in this debate would be to evaluate the contention that the gospel persuades rather than commands.  Rutherford was adamant that the gospel persuades and commands.  Consider the following:

“The Gospel (according to Robert Towne) perswades rather then commands.  But say we, it both commands, (as the Law doth) and with a more strong obligation of the constraining love of Christ…so here be no differences at all” (Spirituall Antichrist, II.122).

Elsewhere Rutherford argues that the law and the gospel require the same obedience (Pt. II.7).  Indeed, “positively”, they are not contrary to one another.  “Perfect obedience, which the Law requireth, and imperfect obedience which the Gospel accepteth are but graduall differences” (II.8).  Moreover, “the Gospel abateth nothing of the height of perfection, in commanding what ever the law commandeth in the same perfection….In acceptation of grace, the Gospel accepteth lesse than the law, but commandeth no lesse” (Pt. II.8).  Incidentally, Rutherford, like Turretin, affirms that good works are necessary for salvation.

Of course, Rutherford was aware of a common cry of the Antinomians, a cry that one often hears today:

(Antinomian): “Yee confound Law and Gospel, and runne on that common error, that the Gospel is conditionall …”

Answer: “It is a new heresie of Antinomians to deny a conditionall Gospel….2. Remission is but one of the promised mercies of the Gospel” (II.63).

I should note that Rutherford was not extreme in his day and William Perkins (see his commentary on Galatians) and John Owen (see Works, III.604-10) echoed similar sentiments.  It is one thing to find authors that speak about distinguishing between law and gospel, but it is quite another thing to understand how these concepts function within their system of thought.

Now, one has to applaud the intentions of the Lutherans and those who agree with how they commonly distinguish between law and gospel.  We should always be zealous to protect justification by faith alone.  My contentions have not so much to do with how this concept relates to justification, but what we mean by the terms “law” and “gospel”.  Sure, the law drives the unconverted to find salvation in Christ, but what about those who are in Christ?

Paul sometimes speaks negatively of the Torah; he shows its impotence apart from the Spirit to give the life it promises.  Some versions of the law-gospel antithesis seem make a mess of Paul’s own antitheses.  For example, in Romans 7 the law is placed on the “Spirit” (not the “flesh”) side of the Spirit-flesh antithesis.  Sin leads to condemnation because the law exposes us as sinners.  But in chapter 8 the law becomes a liberating, not condemning, power because of the Spirit.  So, when we come to Romans 8:13 do we call it “law” or “gospel”.  I think the answer is obvious.  But, I’m not so sure some of my Reformed brothers would come to the same conclusion as I would!

I would also note that Paul often does not place “law” on the expected side of the antithesis (1 Cor. 7:19).  The law in the New Covenant becomes a quickening power that, by the Spirit, sets us free from sin and death (Rom. 8:1-4).

Rutherford realized, as did his contemporaries, that command and promise are sometimes inextricably intertwined with one another (see again Rom. 8:13; life is promised to those who mortify the sinful nature by the Spirit).  But, whatever the case, the promises, as well as the commands, fall under the rubric of Paul’s “gospel”.

All of this is to suggest that I do not view the biblical gospel as synonymous with justification.  It certainly includes justification, but it is not limited to justification.  Christ died for my sins (1 Cor. 15:3), which includes not only its illegal character (Rom. 1-3), but also its enslaving power (Rom. 6).

Thus, I would say that the gospel includes not only what Christ has done for us, but also what Christ does in us, namely, by forming us into the image of God (Rom. 8:29).  This seems to be a central concern of Paul’s throughout his letters.  Thankfully, the gospel includes God’s work in me (Eph. 2:10; Phil. 2:12-13).

The antithesis between law and gospel is not an end in itself.  This antithesis entered because of sin.  But, as Richard Gaffin has noted,

“The gospel is to the end of removing an absolute law-gospel antithesis in the life of the believer.  How so? Briefly, apart from the gospel and outside of Christ the law is my enemy and condemns me.  Why? Because God is my enemy and condemns me.  But with the gospel and in Christ, united to him by faith, the law is no longer my enemy but my friend.  Why? Because now God is no longer my enemy but my friend, and the law, his will, the law in its moral core, as reflective of his character and of concerns eternally inherent in his own person and so of what pleases him, is now my friendly guide for life in fellowship with God” (By Faith, Not by Sight, 103).

I think Ursinus, in his commentary on the Heidelberg Catechism (p. 105), illustrates just how problematic certain versions of the law-gospel antithesis can be when he considers whether a commandment belongs to the gospel.  He writes:

“Objection. There is no precept, or commandment belonging to the gospel, but to the law. The preaching of repentance is a precept. Therefore the preaching of repentance does not belong to the gospel, but to the law.

Answer. We deny the major, if it is taken generally; for this precept is peculiar to the gospel, which commands us to believe, to embrace the benefits of Christ, and to commence new obedience, or that righteousness which the law requires. If it be objected that the law also commands us to believe in God, we reply that it does this only in general, by requiring us to give credit to all the divine promises, precepts and denunciations, and that with a threatening of punishment, unless we do it. But the gospel commands us expressly and particularly to embrace, by faith, the promise of grace; and also exhorts us by the Holy Spirit, and by the Word, to walk worthy of our heavenly calling. This however it does only in general, not specifying any duty in particular, saying thou shalt do this, or that, but it leaves this to the law; as, on the contrary, it does not say in general, believe all the promises of God, leaving this to the law; but it says in particular, Believe this promise; fly to Christ, and thy sins shall be forgiven thee.”

Some time ago I spoke with a Seminarian who had a rather wooden view of the “law-gospel” antithesis and asked him what he thought about the Sermon on the Mount.  It appeared, to use a phrase from T. David Gordon, “that he was entirely flummoxed by it”; indeed, “I would like to think that he was, at some level, aware of his incapacity to make any sense of it.”  This student used the law-gospel antithesis as a pedagogical tool that he brought to every text; but, when he came to Rom. 8:13 he wasn’t quite sure how to divide the text up given his hermeneutical assumptions.

I understand that many have been zealous to protect the graciousness of God’s saving purposes towards his people, but I am not entirely convinced that narrowing the meaning of “gospel” will prove helpful in the long run.  Many good men in our tradition make this clear; and I’d like to think – in fact, I’m sure this is the case – that this is because God’s Word makes this clear.

Besides that which I’ve mentioned above, let me emphasize the importance of maintaining the indicative-imperative structure of theology, which we see clearly delineated in Scripture (Ex. 20; Rom. 1ff.; Eph. 1-6; 1 Peter 1ff.).  But this structure falls within the context of “gospel” preaching.  To preach the gospel is to preach of Christ’s death and resurrection as the basis/ground for both our justification and our Spirit-wrought obedience.  Some might admit that they distinguish between the broader and narrower uses of the term, but, as I said above, this can be very confusing, and the emphasis among some today seems to be on the “narrow” understanding of the terms, which happens to be the less biblical way of looking at the law and the gospel (terms that in the NT are generally used to speak of redemptive-historical contrasts).

The final word from William Perkins:

“The Gospel, as it teacheth what is to be done, so it hath also the efficacy of the Holy Ghost adjoined to it, by whom being regenerated we have strength both to believe the Gospel and to perform those things which it commandeth” (Art of Prophesying VII, [Abingdon, 1970], 341-342).

Francis Roberts wrote the longest work on covenant theology in the seventeenth century and his thoughts on grace in the covenant of works are interesting.  He argues that God’s entering into the covenant of works with Adam was an “act of divine grace and favour, not of debt” (God’s Covenants, 23).

God could have dealt only in terms of “command”, requiring duty from Adam without a reward.  However, because he condescended to Adam and entered into a covenant with him, it was “meer grace” (Ibid).  Roberts insists that Adam could not merit any reward.  In fact, even if Adam had rendered perfect obedience he would still have “been an unprofitable servant, having done nothing but what was duty” (Ibid).  On account of Creation, Adam owed God obedience.  On account of God instituting a covenant at creation, Adam had to be “double dutiful” (Ibid).  In fact, Roberts suggests that if God’s dealings with Adam in the covenant of works was an “Act of Divine Grace”, then God’s covenant of grace was an act of “superabounding and transcendent grace” (Ibid).

What is interesting is that Thomas Goodwin takes a rather different approach than Roberts, which is yet more evidence of the diversity among theologians in the Reformed tradition.  Sure, the covenant of works became firmly entrenched in our confessional tradition, but the details of the covenant of works have never been fully agreed upon.

Goodwin calls the estate into which man was born the estate of pure nature by “creation law”.  He recognizes that “our divines” rightly call it the Foedus Naturae, the Covenant of Nature (Goodwin also uses the term “covenant of works”).  This covenant is “founded upon an equitable intercourse set up between God the Creator, and his intelligent unfallen creatures, by virtue of the Law.”  We, as creatures, are therefore bound to deal with God according to that bond and obligation which is a result of the imago Dei.

Interestingly, Goodwin prefers, instead of “the covenant of works/nature”, the term “The Creation Law, Jus Creationis“.  In other words, “of what was equitable between God, considered merely as Creator, on one part; and his intelligent Creatures that were endued with understanding and will, on the other, simply considered as such creatures.”  This “law” between the Creator and creatures “lay in an equitable transaction between God and them, a congruity, dueness, meetness, on either part.”

Since God is Creator it became him to do for his creatures what was worthy of the Creator-creature relationship.  He was under no obligation to exceed what his position required as a Creator.  He gave all that was due for his creatures to attain their end of happiness because, as Creator, “his will regulated itself by what was meet for their (the creatures) Natures, as such, to receive from him, and for him as a Creator to give.”

During the pre-Fall administration, God bestowed “such faculties and powers, as the creature itself could any way judge requisite to his performing the work of a creature of an intelligent Nature.”   Specifically, then, when God created Adam and Eve, it became him to endow them with his own image of holiness “whereby they might be able to know, to love, and to enjoy a Communion with him … as their chiefest good.” Moreover, on God’s part, as a Creator, he was bound to continue his favor and goodness to Adam and Eve if they would remain in their estate of holiness.

Hence, the promise, “if you do these things, you will live”, was their life on account of “creation dues” and “an equity by creation law”. (All quotes from “Of the Creatures, and their Condition”, Works, 1691-1704, vol. II:20-21.)

Goodwin continues by asserting that though God bound himself to certain “dues” to his creatures, by virtue of his being, he was not obliged to preserve his creature in their state of innocence.  Importantly, Goodwin argues that we must not lay upon God any blame for the Fall (James 1:13-14). God stands free; it is “not upon prerogative, but Equity, that he is a Debtor unto Man.”  God was at perfect liberty to give or not to give what he had not compacted for.

Of course, Goodwin argued in this same work that Adam’s reward could not have been heavenly life; only Christ could merit such blessings.

Finally, regarding grace in the covenant of works, Thomas Boston says that “it was certainly an act of grace, favour, and admirable condescension in God, to enter into a covenant, and such a covenant, with his own creature.” For Boston, man was still bound to obey, perfectly, before the covenant “in virtue of his natural dependence on God.” Man could not have “required eternal life as a reward of his work” before the covenant. The entering into the covenant was itself an act of grace.  However, once the covenant had been instituted, man “may crave the reward on the ground of the covenant.” (T. Boston, The Complete Works of the Late  Rev. Thomas Boston, 12 Vols. (1853; repr., Wheaton, IL: Richard Owen Roberts, Publishers, 1980), VIII:18-19).

The Scot, Hugh Binning, describes grace in the covenant of works in the following way:

there were some outbreakings of the glorious grace and free condescendency of God; for it was no less free grace and undeserved favour to promise life to his obedience, than now to promise life to our faith. So that if the Lord had continued that covenant with us, we ought to have called it grace, and would have been saved by grace as well as now (Common Principles of Christian Relg., lec. 6).

There are, of course, a number of issues that need to be discussed in relation to what has been said.  There are important reasons, both theological and exegetical, why the majority of Reformed theologians have spoken of grace in the covenant of works; and, as you well know, there are reasons why a small minority (very, very small) have resisted the language of grace in the Adamic administration.

So, you see, there are some real points of disagreement on this issue, and I haven’t even touched on Adam’s reward, which was either continued life in Eden or the reward of heaven.  Important Christological issues are connected with this issue!

William Ames (1576-1633), professor of theology at Franeker in the Netherlands, was one of the most influential theologians in the early seventeenth century. He was educated at Christ College, Cambridge under the great Puritan, William Perkins (1558-1602). His learnedness earned him the title “the learned Dr. Ames.” John Eusden, in the introduction to Ames’ Marrow of Theology, comments that “No previous thinker in the Calvinist-Puritan tradition analyzed the covenant of grace with an acuteness comparable to that of the Franeker professor” (p. 52).  I might dispute that, but the comment is not far off.

In The Marrow of Theology Ames treats the subject of the covenant using a method that Owen would later adopt. Ames speaks of a covenant of works in this manner: “In this covenant the moral deeds of the intelligent creature lead either to happiness as a reward or to unhappiness as a punishment. The latter is deserved, the former not” (p. 111). He spends far more time, however, on an exposition of the covenant of grace which ended up being his most significant contribution to the development of covenant theology.

That the covenant of grace is one and the same from the beginning (Genesis 3:15) is a basic presupposition that guides Ames’ thinking. He notes, however, that the application and administration has differed in each particular administration. There is a progression from the imperfect to the perfect, which means, for him, that the “manner of administration of the covenant is twofold: One points to the Christ who will appear (imperfect) and the other to the Christ who has appeared (perfect)” (p. 202). In the history of salvation, he divides up the covenant of grace into periods from Adam to Abraham, Abraham to Moses, and Moses to Christ.

These divisions, identical to Owen’s in Theologoumena, represent a biblico-theological approach to the unfolding nature of God’s redemptive purposes. But, even in this approach Ames is concerned to speak about Christian doctrines, common to systematic theology, like election, justification, sanctification and glorification. In each redemptive period there are, however, different applications of the aforementioned doctrines.

In the period from Adam to Abraham, Ames notes the following doctrines in relation to the covenant of grace:

“From Adam to Abraham it should be noted, first, that redemption by Christ and the application of Christ was promised in general. It was to be carried out by the seed of the woman in order to banish the works of the devil, or sin and death. Gen 3.15; Rom. 16:20 …

Second, calling was evident in the distinction between the seed of the woman and the seed of the devil, and between the sons of God and the sons of men, Gen. 6:2.

Third, the way of justification was set forth by expiatory sacrifices offered and accepted for sins.

Fourth, adoption was indicated both by the title of sons, common to all the faithful at that time, and by the translation of Enoch into the heavenly inheritance.

Fifth, sanctification was expressly taught by the prophets and foreshadowed by typical oblations and rites of sacrifice, Jude 14; Rom. 12:1.

Sixth, glorification was publicly sealed by the example of Enoch and the saving of Noah and his family from the flood. 1 Peter 3:20, 21” (p. 203).

We can only fully appreciate the nuances of Ames’ approach to the covenant when we compare the period from Adam to Abraham with the period from Moses to Christ. For example, Ames speaks of doctrines like justification and sanctification, but with a different application of each doctrine because of history of revelation had progressed further.

“From the time of Moses to Christ, these same things were further adumbrated by extraordinary and ordinary means.Redemption and its application were extraordinary. They were signified, first, in the deliverance from Egypt through the ministry of Moses, who was a type of Christ, Matt. 2:15, and by the entrance into the land of Canaan through the ministry of Joshua, another type of Christ. Second, in the brass serpent, by looking at which men who were about to die were restored to health, John 3:14; 12:32. …. (p. 204).

In the ordinary sense Christ and redemption were foreshadowed by the high priest, the altars, and sacrifices for sins.

Justification was shown in many sacrifices and ablutions and in the sacrament of the Passover.

Adoption was shown in the dedication of the firstborn to God.

Sanctification was set forth in all the offerings and gifts as well as in the observances which had anything to do with cleanliness.

Glorification was shown in the inheritance of the promised land and the communion which they had with God in the holy of holies” (p. 205).

Ames next speaks of the administration of the covenant from the coming of Christ to the end of the world. Christ’s coming ushered in a new administration that would continue until the end of the world, hence the New Testament (pp. 205-6). The New Testament differs from the former administration in quality and quantity. For example, its difference in quality is in clarity and freedom.

“Clarity occurs, first in the more distinct expression than heretofore of the doctrine of grace and salvation through Christ and through faith in him (together with other kindred points of the doctrine). Second, it is expressed not in types and shadows, but in a most manifest fashion (p. 206).

Freedom comes, first, in doing away with government by law, or the intermixture of the covenant of works, which held the ancient people in a certain bondage. The spirit of adoption, though never wholly denied to believers, is also most properly said to be communicated under the New Testament, in which the perfect state for believers most clearly shines forth …. Second, the yoke of ceremonial law is taken away in that it was a mortgage bond held against sinners, forbade the use of some things in the nature indifferent, commanded many burdensome observances of other things of the same nature, and veiled the truth itself with many carnal ceremonies” (p. 206).

Ames further elaborates the difference between the Old and New Testaments by speaking of how the new differs from the former intensively and extensively (207). It differs intensively in terms of the application of the Spirit; the new administration produces a more spiritual life (2 Corinthians 3:18). The administration differs extensively insofar as the Gentiles are now heirs of the promises that were once confined to Israel.