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| John Wesley |
If this privilege really stands above all other benefits of the atonement the way Mont Blanc towers over the lesser mountains of Europe, why doesn’t it rise just as obviously before everyone’s eyes? Why isn’t it impossible to misunderstand or dismiss?
Skeptics raise a similar complaint about Christianity itself. They argue that if the faith truly came from God, it would shine with such unmistakable divine authority that even the dullest observer could recognize it instantly, without effort or investigation. They say that if a master truly wanted his servant to carry out a task, he would write his instructions so plainly and sign his name so clearly that no confusion would be possible.
Bishop Butler offers a compelling reply. If the master’s only goal were to get the work done, he would indeed make everything perfectly clear. But if his goal were to test the servant’s loyalty and diligence, he might intentionally leave parts of the message unclear — clarity that could only be gained through careful study and faithful effort.
In the same way, God’s message contains real difficulties. Christianity comes from heaven with its seal partially concealed, revealing itself fully only to those who seek honestly and earnestly. Skeptics reject it for this reason, but we answer that God does want His gospel to be received — just not in a shallow or passive way. His aim is the highest good for humanity and the greatest glory for His Son. That goal is not achieved by simply absorbing obvious truths, but by engaging the mind and heart in serious pursuit, stretching the soul’s desire and capacity.
It is God’s order that truth — especially the most valuable truth — fully reveals itself only to those who hunger for it. The long search and intense pursuit sharpen the appetite and prepare the seeker to truly appreciate what they finally discover. The more precious the truth, the higher the barriers guarding it. These obstacles discourage timid seekers but invite bold, persistent souls who refuse to turn back. Their determination eventually overcomes every resistance.
The coming of the Comforter to the believer’s heart — His indwelling as Sanctifier — is, in terms of immediate practical impact, an even greater event than Christ’s first coming into the world. John the Baptist understood this when he pointed to it as the climax of Christ’s mission: “He shall baptize you with the Holy Spirit.” Jesus Himself continually directed His followers toward this crowning gift.
Even the disciples struggled to grasp how Jesus could reveal Himself to them through the Comforter while remaining invisible to the world. Their faith was tested around this very promise. That test continued through the ten days of prayer before Pentecost. This extended trial was necessary to stretch their faith to its fullest capacity so they could receive the fullness of the Spirit. They endured the test — and received the greatest gift the Father and the glorified Son could give.
Today, we still meet Christians who cannot clearly explain the doctrine of entire sanctification. They are confused by what seems like a contradiction: how can there be a work of the Spirit in regeneration and the witness of the Spirit before the abiding Comforter is received? To them, it sounds as illogical as saying a carpenter worked inside a house before ever entering it.
Yet we face an even greater mystery in the doctrine of the Holy Spirit itself. How could He be present in the patriarchal and Jewish eras, inspiring faith and holiness, before He was sent in fullness at Pentecost? Many believers accept this larger mystery by faith, yet still insist on fully rational explanations for the smaller one. As a result, they remain spiritually impoverished. No one has ever received the Holy Spirit through logical argument alone—He always comes through faith.
It is a sobering reality that many who profess faith in Christ and show signs of spiritual life are practically in the same position as the twelve believers Paul met in Ephesus. In the depths of their hearts, they have scarcely heard that there is a Holy Spirit. They live in a pre‑Pentecost state, lingering in the early, incomplete stage of spiritual experience. They do not know “the exceeding greatness of Christ’s power toward us who believe.”
They recite the creed — “I believe in the Holy Spirit” — but it transforms them no more than a mathematical formula would. Their souls stand beside the well of living water. They lower their buckets and pull them back up empty — not because the well is dry, but because their rope is too short. An orthodox belief sitting lifeless in the intellect is like a bucket dangling halfway down the well, never reaching the water.
These believers lack a vigorous, appropriating faith. To develop that faith, God intentionally places difficulties in their path — obstacles meant to be confronted and overcome. Seemingly towering objections must be scaled. The doctrine of full salvation does not appear clearly distinct from justification and the new birth. The apostles speak of it indirectly, using phrases like “dead to sin,” “life hidden with Christ,” “risen with Christ,” “the sealing,” “the baptism,” and “the anointing of the Spirit.”
Believers may pray fervently that others be wholly sanctified, yet hesitate to declare that they themselves have claimed this blessing. They struggle with the idea that a soul once damaged by sin could ever be called perfect, especially in light of God’s unchanging standard of holiness.
The problem is made worse by the obvious flaws in some who profess holiness. Even more discouraging is the widespread hesitation within the church and ministry — the caution, discomfort, and distrust surrounding this experience. Occasional outbreaks of fanaticism have only added to the confusion. All of this makes the subject appear tangled, unclear, and even dangerous.
Those of little faith and weak hearts, failing to see that this very confusion is part of their necessary discipline, sit down fearfully before these giants in their path. The writer himself did so for twenty‑five years. Meanwhile, the faithful and courageous catch sight of the higher ground — the land of perfect rest — and press forward. They confront and defeat these enemies and enter in. They discover that wrestling with these fears and objections is itself the probation for holiness, the training faith must undergo to receive so great a grace.
For this reason, the doctrine of instantaneous sanctification by faith is left in a partially revealed state — clear enough to invite pursuit, yet challenging enough to demand effort. This balance stimulates study, sharpens perception, ignites desire, and gives persistent believers a field for heroic struggle and glorious victory.
This probation is different from — and more demanding than — the one that precedes forgiveness. A childlike faith may receive justification, but only a mature faith can seize the prize of entire sanctification. Since the blessing sought is complete, not partial, the faith required must also be complete. The trials that bring faith to maturity should therefore be welcomed with joy.
The story of the Syrophoenician woman perfectly illustrates this probation of faith. The blessing she sought — the deliverance of her daughter from a demon — could not be given in degrees. Either the demon remained, or it was cast out entirely. Seeing that her faith was not yet sufficient, Jesus trained it.
At first, He answered her request with silence. Yet instead of retreating, her faith grew stronger and pressed forward. Then He raised another barrier: “I am not sent but unto the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” She did not hesitate. Falling at His feet, she cried, “Lord, help me.” Her faith cleared that wall as well.
Next came the highest obstacle of all: “It is not right to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs” — puppies, in the Greek. Surely this would stop her. But in one bold leap, her faith cleared even that fence. “Yes, Lord,” she replied, “but even the dogs eat the crumbs.”
Her faith had passed its probation. It was now strong enough to cast out even the greatest demon. Jesus withheld nothing. In effect, He placed the key to His omnipotence in her hand.
In the same way, the removal of the “old man” from the heart is an all‑or‑nothing work. It requires an all‑or‑nothing faith. Since that faith is not fully developed at justification, it must be trained — wrestling with difficulties and slaying giants along the way. When the last obstacle falls, God entrusts the believer with the priceless treasure of perfect love.
Moral
- Do not fix your eyes on objections — look beyond them.
- Overcome difficulties, and you will find them forming the staircase to the Higher Life.
- How do you get faith? Use the faith you have.
- When are you ready to believe fully? When you have fully surrendered everything to Christ.
This is a revision of Part 1, Chapter 4 of Mile-stone Papers (1878) by Daniel Steele, written with the assistance of Microslop CoPilot. The original chapter can be found here: THE PROBATION FOR HOLINESS.
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