Where does faith come from?
What is happening in the soul of a person who becomes a Christian? What is happening when someone who once doubted God or even His existence; who once could read a page of scripture and discern nothing of its full meaning; who in the past could see believers acting out their faith with unexplainable enthusiasm, love, and courage, and conclude only that those people must be unbalanced, desperate, weak, or half-crazed—but who now loves God and fully trusts Him in every area of life? What has happened to change that person, and why does it happen to some and not others?
Whatever profound mystery is taking place, whatever miracle is occurring at that moment that we can never hope to fully grasp, I understand at least one thing and would have to be shown otherwise to conclude otherwise. I do not believe that the source of true saving faith can be found in a human decision or prayer. I do not believe it is a quality that can come from a fallen human heart.
But don’t just take my word for it: The Bible says this about that saving moment: “For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith–and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God” (Ephesians 2:8).
To me, the passage seems clear: faith is a gift. But some maintain that the “this” I’ve emphasized refers only to grace and not at all to faith. I’m a little puzzled why someone would understand the verse in that way, unless it is because they don’t like the idea that faith is a gift. But the interpretation doesn’t really work. It would be such an exaggerated case of stating the obvious as to touch on absurdity. The whole idea of grace is “not from yourselves,” so it would seem a bit silly for Paul to be stating such a self-evident truth. A gift is a gift, we’d be left with. Really? Thanks for clearing that up, Mr. Paul.
Even if an eloquent case is made for the “grace not of yourselves” reading of Ephesians 2:8, it doesn’t accomplish what is hoped. For we only have to turn a page or two farther in the Bible to read an even clearer passage: “For it has been granted to you on behalf of Christ not only to believe on him, but also to suffer for him…” (Phil. 1:29).
At least to the church in Phillipi, the source of faith was understood and accepted well enough that Paul could make a mere passing reference to it. But today we don’t have Paul around to send out another letter when we question what a text means, or overlook another, and so maintaining that faith must ultimately come from God is at times controversial.
To give a little bit of context to the question, we can go back to that question of what is going on at the moment when salvation takes place. That moment is often referred to as “being made alive in Christ,” or “regeneration.” We could ask this about that wonderful starting point in the Kingdom of God: Is it necessary for an unregenerate sinner to place faith in God in order to be made alive, or is it necessary for the hardened sinner to be made alive (or regenerated) in order to respond in saving faith?
Some look to a familiar passage in Revelation 3 for the answer to the question. There we are told that Christ stands at the door of our heart and asks to come in. Because this invitation is universally given, we could prematurely conclude that we can, in our spiritually dead condition, be moved to open the door ourselves, and ask Jesus in. But in a different passage where we are given an inner glimpse at salvation taking place, that’s not what happened. In Acts 16, a merchant named Lydia was listening to Paul preach, and at the moment she had a sincere response to his message, we’re told that, “The Lord opened her heart to respond to Paul’s message.” It wasn’t Lydia opening the door, then, it was God. By the time Lydia knew that she wanted salvation above all else, her eyes were already opened.
Another passage that makes this clear comes just a few verses before the well-known Ephesians passage above: “But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions–it is by grace you have been saved.”
Some attempt to get around the problem by seeing a little bit of both sides present in conversion, and they would hold that God’s Spirit works within a person, convicts them of their sin, and helps them as much as He is able, but then leaves the person to respond the rest of the way on their own.
This may be seen as an attractive stance, but I’m uncomfortable with it. If I am brought to the same level of conviction as my neighbor, if we’re both moved by the Spirit and helped to the same degree, then what was different about my heart that I repented and my neighbor did not? In what way was I better than my neighbor that I took the true path and he rejected it? All of a sudden, I’m now looking at my heart as if it contained some small crumb of righteousness. As if I made some tiny contribution to my own salvation. As if my heart, however bad and normally immovable, could be impressed and wooed and helped to make the right and good decision.
No. God’s salvation is the last thing we want. “Light has come into the world, but men loved darkness instead of light because their deeds were evil” (John 3:19). We are enemies of God, we “all have turned away” (Romans 3:12). “There is no one who understands, no one who seeks God” (Romans 3:11). We have hearts of stone that could never sincerely respond to the offer of salvation unless changed by God, as the book of Ezekiel mentions: “I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh” (Ezekiel 36:26).
Whether it offends my pride to think about or not, I brought no contribution to my salvation. All I could do is respond to God with the faith he granted me, follow God with the eyes that He opened, and love Him with the heart that He changed. If there had been any possibility that I could’ve rejected God, I would have. We all would have, down to the last person. Anything other than that eventuality introduces works into salvation, and we know that works properly belong only to sanctification, or in other words, everything that happens after being born again.
I was humbled when I first realized this. Understanding that God did not wait for this little lamb to come to Him, but went to that desolate place where I was stuck and carried me home, filled me with gratitude. The crowns that in eternity are cast at Jesus’ feet, that are given to the children of God who then return them to their proper source, is the most fitting gesture to God’s grace I could imagine.