The true value of faith
In the 2005 movie Serenity, there’s an enigmatic character called Shepherd Book. A clergyman with a mysterious past, Book serves as a spiritual foil for the film’s earthy, skeptical hero, Malcolm Reynolds. In a crucial scene about halfway through the movie, Book presses a heartfelt exhortation on his friend Reynolds: “I don't care what you believe in, just believe in it.”
These are hardly the words of a Biblically orthodox Christian minister, even a fictional one. Nevertheless, they neatly distill one of our society’s prevailing attitudes toward faith.
Our culture is deeply enamored with the idea of faith: in oneself, in one’s abilities, in faith itself. You have to believe, we’re constantly told. You need to have faith.
But the truth is that everyone already has faith. We can’t help it. It’s how we’re made. Driving a car, riding an elevator, taking medicine and buying groceries all involve acts of faith in the products and people who provide them. Even atheists have faith. They believe there’s no God, no afterlife, nothing beyond the material universe and no ultimate meaning or purpose to existence. And they live and act out of those beliefs. That’s faith.
Clearly there’s nothing especially praiseworthy about faith itself. Everyone has it and exercises it daily in a multitude of ways, great and small. Moreover, faith isn’t some magic power that can change reality or make things happen. Something is either true or it isn’t, regardless of what I may believe or not believe about it. Two plus two equals four, and will remain so, regardless of how fervently and sincerely I may believe otherwise.
The only value of faith, its only potential power, resides with the thing or person believed. This is the direct opposite of Shepherd Book’s pluralistic sentiment, shared by many in our culture. It doesn’t matter what you believe, as long as you believe it sincerely? Tell that to the family who lost everything because they trusted a fraudulent investment scheme. Tell it to the teenager at the crazy party who pointed a gun at his friend and pulled the trigger, mistakenly believing the gun wasn’t loaded.
When it comes to faith at any level, the only relevant question is what or whom we believe, and those choices carry consequences, good or bad. And when it comes to spiritual matters, the consequences take on infinite, eternal proportions.
Perhaps this discussion brings to mind Jesus’ words that faith the size of a mustard seed can move mountains. [Compare Matthew 17:14-20; Matthew 21:18-22; Mark 11:20-25; Luke 17:5-6.] But our Lord wasn’t inviting people to treat God like a genie: What’s your wish? Turn the moon blue? Dry up the Pacific Ocean? A hundred billion dollars and a villa in Tuscany? No problem; just believe hard enough (whatever that means) and it’s yours. Instead, taken in context along with other Biblical teaching, Christ’s point is clear: the power of faith is not in its quantity or quality, but in its object. “Have faith in God,” Jesus commands [Mark 11:22], and again, “Believe in God; believe also in me.” [John 14:1]
As evangelical Christians, we rightly affirm that salvation is by grace alone, through faith alone, in Christ alone. Faith is the means, but faith doesn’t save us. Only Christ, the one in whom we trust, saves us. John Stott summarized this very clearly and helpfully in his book, The Cross of Christ:
To say “justification by faith” is merely another way of saying “justification by Christ.” Faith has absolutely no value in itself; its value lies solely in its object. Faith is the eye that looks to Christ, the hand that lays hold of him, the mouth that drinks the water of life.1
- 1. John Stott, The Cross of Christ, (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 1986), p. 187.
