True confessions: I really don't like the language of "covenant conditionality" or how most discussions are framed regarding whether biblical covenants are "conditional" or "unconditional."

I grant, of course, that such language has had a place in many expositions of Reformed covenantal theology and that, perhaps, with great care and precision, it might be employed usefully.

The Westminster Larger Catechism, for instance, states: "The grace of God is manifested in the second covenant, in that he freely provides and offers to sinners a Mediator, and life and salvation by him; and requiring faith as the condition to interest them in him" (Q&A 32). The Catechism uses this same language of "condition" with regard to the pre-lapsarian covenant of life with Adam, which was maintained on the "condition of personal, perfect, and perpetual obedience" (Q&A 20). This, of course, need not imply that the pre- and post-lapsarian covenants were conditional in precisely the same way.

Around the same time, Francis Turretin wrote an extensive discussion regarding the nature of conditionality under the law and the gospel, distinguishing senses in which the covenant of grace may and may not be called "conditional," given that faith, as a condition, is niether meritorious nor legal and is provided for by God himself (see, particularly, Institutes 12.3.1-16).

More recently, Reformed theologian Norman Shepherd in his The Call of Grace develops this theme of covenant conditionality, pointing out ways in which even the apparently "unconditional" covenant with Abraham involved the condition of a faith that works itself out in loving obedience (13-20). Shepherd then goes on to use this model of promise and demand to frame his discussion of all biblical covenants (building in some ways on the work of earlier Dutch theologians such as Klaas Schilder).

Even in my own "Brief Catechesis on Covenant and Baptism" I allude to "the conditions of the covenant" (Question 4), though that language came from the questioner and my answer attempted to significantly modify the sense in which that could be meant.

And yet, having said all this, many of these approaches to covenant conditions appear to me to be too legal, too economic, too contractual, and sometimes assuming a particularly narrow understanding of those things, even in Turretin whose discussion is very careful and nuanced.

Besides, we are admittedly dealing with a situation, with regard to the covenant of grace, in which all the "conditions" have already been met in Christ and are graciously shared with us. Granted, we must be personally caught up into what Christ has done for us so that it becomes ours and this involves a real response on our part. But that too is a gift and such radical giftedness must be allowed thoroughly to qualify any discussion of conditions.

"Conditions" is often heard, of course, as "meritorious achievement" and I realize that people like Shepherd or Schilder who speak of conditionality reject that paradigm completely or, like Turretin, reject it with regard to the covenant of grace.

Yet, it seems to me that discussions emerging from these ways of speaking largely get mired down concerning the notion of conditionality since a condition can hardly be understood except as in some way "contributing" to the exchange.

It strikes me that these issues take up a version of what van Til called the "full bucket problem." The idea is this: From one perspective, there is nothing we can give to God since everything is already his. And thus fulfilling "covenant conditions" doesn't really contribute anything to salvation which is a total gift. And yet, as creation really does add something to God's already all-sufficient glory, so also our response to the covenant really does play a role in salvation.

Thus, perhaps, the whole discussion of the covenant needs to be reoriented, though I will only be able to make some gestures in the direction of such a reorientation.

Before attempting that, however, perhaps it is necessary [a] to deal with some possible objections and [b] to give an overview of the unfolding of the covenants in redemptive-history.

With regard to [a] the obvious objection would be that the Bible continually presents all kinds of obligations, responses, and so forth: "Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ and you will be saved" (Acts 16:31) or "The one who does not believe is condemned already" (John 3:18; cf. Mark 16:16).

And, of course, I readily recognize these aspects of the biblical witness. But my question is whether they are best spoken of in terms of "conditions"? What does that even mean?

It seems to me that one has conditions in a contract, not a family. I expect my daughter Claire to love me, listen to me, spend time with me, and obey me, but it is peculiar to call those "conditions" for my relationship with her. They are the relationship.

But, perhaps the model of marriage might be offered as an alternative that is more clearly "conditional," more so than parents and children, at least. Yet, what are the "conditions" in marriage and vows? Does the husband say, "If you respect me, I'll love you back. If you look to my leadership, then I'll take care of you. If not, you've violated the conditions...I'm getting another wife"? This seems an odd way to portray the covenant of marriage.

Yet, that is conditionality, isn't it? A "condition" by definition is a requirement or stipulation upon which some kind of fulfillment of an agreement is made to depend. That's what the word means. But, then, is marriage conditional?

One might suggest that it is since, if a marriage partner is unfaithful, then the marriage may well fall apart or become the occasion for dissolving the marriage covenant. Thus, marriage can be construed as a conditional relationship. And yet, it seems to me, that even here the so-called "conditions" don't constitute the marriage relationship, at least not qua "conditions," as if unfaithfulness in itself automatically dissolves the contract. Rather, the "conditions" under which the relationship has disintegrated mark out and embody that disintegration.

Indeed, it seems a little odd to me to say, "I am married to you on the condition that you remain faithful, don't abandon us, etc." when marriage just is remaining faithful, etc. One might say that marriage is the "condition in which" a man and woman live together in mutual faithful commitment, etc. But that's using the term "condition" in a different way, to refer to "circumstances, a state of affairs" not "a stipulation upon which the fulfillment of an agreement is contingent."

Thus, marriage vows are not "conditions" in any ordinary sense of the term (drawn primarily from contractual, legal, and economic models, from the Latin "condicio" = the terms of an agreement). Rather, vows are expressions of purposed intent before witnesses, where the witnesses act not merely as extrinsic guarantors of contractual compliance, but as personal-relational support, representing the wider community and the face of God. Vows don't include "if...then" stipulations, even if consequences follow from the abandonment of vowed intent.

But suppose this purported marital conditionality were turned around and the husband only said--"Look, I love and want you and will be faithful to you. All I ask is that you be faithful to me in return..."--there are still problems with construing this as "conditionality." The reason is because that kind of loving faithfulness cannot be demanded and required in that sort of way. This is especially so, if there is not always already a relationship and exchange in place and, when there is, the response is already provided for.

Thus, if a husband says, "It's my heartfelt desire and wish to love and cherish you, because I took you to be my wife, and if you stray, I'll win you back"--that's not a conditional situation. And that kind of love, at least when it is God's love, produces a response in the beloved. That's part of love's gift. And humanity's response to God is provided in Jesus, in whom we are offered back to God already.

Aquinas talks about how, in the Bible, repentance is expected for forgiveness from God but not within human relationships and he asks why that is (Summa Theologiae III.86.2). Aren't we supposed to image our heavenly Father? But, while he forgives in a context of faith and repentance, we are to show forgiveness to all, unconditionally. Why the difference?

Aquinas answers that in the case of God, God's forgiving disposition is one that generates the response in the person receiving that forgiveness, not merely forgetting sin, but restoring the sinner. The same, however, is not true within human relationships, since we, in our fallenness, cannot necessarily generate a positive response to our offered gift.

Using the terminology of Reformed covenant theology, the point would be that God's establishing of the covenant is unilateral in that it includes the bilateral response within it, because of who God is in relation to us. But this is a matter of restored relationship with our Creator--not a matter of "conditions" per se.

Moreover, a condition is something you do in order to meet a requirement. As such, it regards itself reflexively, looking to itself as the fulfillment of a condition.

But faith is nothing like that. It's extraspective, looking to God and his faithfulness in Christ, unlike our father Adam who demonstrated his suspicion and infidelity. This dynamic is all the more profound because it comes on the other side of even Christ's own faith in God unto death in the faithfulness of the cross. We know, in Christ, that the God to whom we look is a God who raises the dead from hell, so even Adamic suspicions and unbelief are swept away in resurrection life.

Still also, in terms of faith working itself out in love, as its evidence and fruit, love is first of all a surrender of self to another, an ecstasis, which trusts that there is a possibility of reciprocity, a receiving back. Thus, even the working of faith in love, only functions insofar as it passes through and proceeds from faith's own extraspective nature in light of resurrection.

In this context, talk of "conditionality" seems wrongheaded to me.

With regard to [b] (the shape of the biblical narrative), I unconvinced that the Bible ultimately speaks in terms of "conditions" and, as far as I can see, in many contexts that language is, at best, misleading. Moreover, the discussions surrounding views such as those of Norman Shepherd demonstrate to me how prone to confusion the language of "conditions" can be.

Now, when I say the Bible doesn't "ultimately" speak in terms of conditions, I am thinking primarily about the New Covenant in Christ as the ultimate revelation of God's covenantal dealings with humanity. Of course, the Old Covenant does often speak in terms of what appear to be conditions, but I think we need to take the blessings and curses of, for instance, Deuteronomy, in redemptive-historical context (and thanks to friends for discussion of this).

[1] The covenant with Israel, as with Abraham before, was established "unconditionally." God sovereignly chose Israel by delivering her from Egypt (Eze 20:5; Dt 4:37). But these unconditional covenants continually and unexpectedly become qualified, either through the transformation of the nature of what is promised or through the imposition of new conditions that were never before specified.

With regard to the transformation of the promise, the obvious examples are things like the land of Israel becoming the whole world or Abraham's seed embracing the Gentiles by faith.

With regard to "conditions," things like circumcision, the Torah, Deuteronomy 28, etc. were only added later and have to be seen as unexpectedly qualifying the nature of the covenant relationship.

The issue becomes one of the faithfulness of God--God's righteousness--when he changes promises and adds conditions. So one has to ask the question of the redemptive-historical function of these kinds of covenantal qualification.

[2] The conditions aren't really "conditions" in any ordinary sense of the word. For one thing, the covenant curses don't merely take the form of "if...then," but actually come to function as predictions or proleptic anticipations of what will happen sooner or later. It's ultimately less a matter of "if" than it is a matter of "when."

For another thing, Leviticus 26 and Deuteronomy 28-30 both end with qualifications that show that the conditions really still function within an unconditional covenant.

After the curses for disobedience, Levitucs 26 continues, "Yet for all that, when they are in the land of their enemies, I will not spurn them, neither will I abhor them, for I am Yahweh their God. But I will for their sake remember the covenant with their forefathers..." (verses 44-45). Likewise, following upon the curses of Deuteronomy 28, chapter 30:1-10 looks to a time when, "after these things come upon you, the blessing and the curse," Yahweh nonetheless restores his people.

In both Leviticus and Deuteronomy it becomes clear that God's ultimate purpose is to fulfill the "conditions" of the covenant himself in his people, because the purpose all along was never "conditions" per se, but the unconditional reciprocity that a relationship must have in order to exist at all.

[3] The redemptive-historical role of Old Covenant quasi-"conditions" was to focus the whole biblical narrative upon its climax in Christ: the one in whom all God's promises are "yes" and "amen" (2 Cor 1:20). Its "conditions," thus, served to bind everyone over under sin in order that mercy might be shown to all (Rom 11:32; Gal 3:22)--that is to say, in order that God himself might finally fulfill both "sides" of the covenant in Christ, in whom the gifts of faith, a new heart, and so on, are all to be found. In Christ, humanity is offered back to God perfectly. And so the design of the whole Old Covenant, with its quasi-conditionality, was one of planned obsolescence. As such, Christ is the "end of the Law," both as its goal and its completion (Rom 10:4).

In Christ now there is a new humanity possible in which the reciprocity anticipated by the Old Covenant finally comes to fulfillment as the "righteous requirements of Torah are fulfilled" among us, in the law of love through the Spirit (Rom 8:4; 10:4; 13:10; Gal 5:14-18; 6:2). And this is not something that any longer functions within "conditionality," but, in that respect, lies beyond the Law. This vindicates the righteousness of God.

Thus I'm deeply dissatisfied with, for instance, Shepherd's formulations which, it seems to me, too much flatten out the redemptive-historical and analogical diversity of the biblical covenants (and thus really do verge too much upon a kind of unfortunate "mono-covenantalism"). But from within a redemptive-historical focus, I also find the Lutheran Law-Gospel paradigm, though in some ways rightly picking up on these biblical themes, to be too abstract and dichotomous, for instance, mistaking "Law" for a kind of universal "natural law" rooted in divine holiness, rather than "Torah" as a phase of redemptive-history.

With these points in mind, perhaps I can make some final gestures towards an alternative model than that of conditionality.

Having dealt with some objections and surveying some aspects of redemptive history, I would like to begin sketching my positive account of the covenant by rooting some of my reflections within two, analogically-related theological perspectives, one phenomenological and the other trinitarian. While the relation of grace and human response is ultimately rooted, I think, in the inner life of the Trinity, we can begin with the phenomenology of "gift" on the human level.

Paradoxically, a gift, in order to be truly a gift, must be something that is offered without return--pure grace. On the other hand, gift is also always an exchange embodying an asymmetrical reciprocity, since the giver receives back in the very act of giving, participating in the joy of the recipient. A purely disinterested gift is no gift at all, since the thoughtful content of the gift is what constitutes as an appropriate gift.

Moreover, the giver's gift may well lead to a future event where the giver becomes the receiver of another gift. But this reciprocity is not a contractual one, bound by laws of exchange. Rather, it presupposes a certain unexpectedness and proper freedom, constituting the exchange as asymmetrical. So much for phenomenology, though more could certainly be said.

The trinitarian reflection would be to root this kind of gift and exchange in the interrelations of the Persons of the Trinity as the transcendent ontological ground, only within which, by participation, is human gift and exchange possible. The very being of God as Triune is something that exists in just such gift and exchange--gift without return founding the absolute difference and identity of each the Persons, and asymmetrical reciprocity embodying their unity, interrelations, and perichoretic movement.

Now, the problematics of the relationship between grace and response is one that has to account for two perspectives:

[1] the relationship of creation to God in general as something that is radically gifted and thus absolutely "without return," even though God delights in that creation and receives it back to himself (a version of the "full-bucket" problem van Til mentions, as I said at the outset).

and

[2] the manner in which that creational relationship is broken and restored in light of the fallenness of humanity; this restoration occurs by God's own giving of himself (in an even more absolute and unreturnable way), doing so in order that there might be for-giveness and the giving back of humanity to God in Christ's theanthropic self-giving, all to the greater delight of God who, now in Christ, has eternally received humanity into himself.

This isn't, by any means, a full account and there are all sort of details that need to be filled in (e.g., the manner in which Christ's divine person, having assumed human nature, makes provision for our response). Yet here is where I will stop, though I have only really cleared some conceptual and theological space for further reflection.

I hope at some point to continue and deepen my thinking here, particularly insofar as I think this can be worked out further with regard to the Trinity in which the trust among the Persons is eternally prior to their eternally active love, thereby structuring the relationship between faith and works in any human response to God.

I would then like to press my account further in regard to creation and its radical entrustedness to God. This would, in turn, provide an analogical perspective on redemption.

With these perspectives in hand I would hope to show how we can then situate covenant reciprocity within a unilateral giftedness.