Living according to conscience, then, is not a matter of “being faithful to my best self” or “following conscience per se.” It is a matter of conscience’s being informed, shaped, and trained by God’s Word and becoming increasingly sensitive to its assessments. To say that “God alone is Lord of the conscience” is to affirm that God’s Word is paramount in shaping this dimension of our self-consciousness. My Christian responsibility, therefore, is to immerse myself in the doctrines, patterns, and precepts of the Word of God.

God alone is Lord of the conscience, and hath left it free from the doctrines and commandments of men, which are, in anything, contrary to his Word; or beside it, if matters of faith, or worship. So that, to believe such doctrines, or to obey such commands, out of conscience, is to betray true liberty of conscience: and the requiring of an implicit faith, and an absolute and blind obedience, is to destroy liberty of conscience, and reason also. —Westminster Confession of Faith 20.2
This is no ivory-tower statement. Many of the delegates to the Westminster Assembly were working pastors and all too familiar with “the real world.” In fact, as they were writing in the 1640s, the real world was caught up in a terrible civil war, behind which lay the very issues that chapter 20 of the confession was written to address: liberty of conscience. A glance at my “seventeenth century” bookshelves reveals such learned works as A.S.P. Woodhouse, Puritanism and Liberty; William Haller, Liberty and Reformation in the Puritan Revolution; and Christopher Hill, Liberty against the Law. The titles say it all. Like the issue of law and love, the topic of Christian liberty, its nature and its implications, its extent and its limitations, is perennially significant. In seventeenth-century England, it was critical.
The Westminster divines faced both legalism and antinomianism, a false binding of the conscience on the one hand and libertinism on the other. In addition, this was an era of fear: fear of the return of Roman Catholicism and an opposite fear (one that at times seemed equal), the fear of anarchy represented by such quaintly named groups as Quakers, Levellers, Diggers, Mechanic Preachers, and Muggletonians. How freedom and responsibility are balanced in the Christian life was a matter of major concern. Hence, here in chapter 20, section 2, the exposition of Christian liberty in general (section 1) becomes narrowly focused on the issue of liberty of conscience in particular. During the first two years or so of the assembly’s work, the divines labored long and often to compose for their own time a chapter of biblical balance. For that reason, they produced a statement of lasting value. In these brief reflections on their teaching, it may be helpful for us to consider (1) its biblical foundations, (2) its historical relevance, and (3) some aspects of its practical application.
Biblical Foundations
What do we mean when we say, “God alone is Lord of the conscience”? What is “conscience,” and in what sense is God “Lord” of it?
The word conscience (Greek syneidsis) appears around thirty times in the New Testament, with the Apostle Paul using it twice as often as all the other authors combined. In his world, the conscience was seen as a function of human nature in which the self becomes aware of a moral assessment being made on its behavior based on some internally operative standard of judgment. The conscience is thus experienced as an approving or condemning voice that functions both to assess past and to guide present and future behavior.
Paul’s use of conscience, however, needs to be set within a biblical framework. Man (male and female) was created as the image of God in righteousness and holiness (Gen. 1:26; Eph. 4:24). Adam and Eve’s consciences were informed by and aligned with the revealed will of God and functioned to assess and to guide their behavior (Gen. 2:15–17). The result? In their original created condition, to borrow Paul’s expression (Rom. 2:15), their consciences bore witness to their integrity. They experienced an appropriate conscience approval, the evidence of which lay in that “the man and his wife were both naked and were not ashamed” (Gen. 2:25). God’s will for them and their faithfulness to it aligned. They enjoyed a “good conscience” and the experience of unclouded friendship. But that did not last long. Soon, in the aftermath of their disobedience to God’s Word (3:1–6), their Word-informed consciences were accusing and condemning them.
Genesis 3:7–8 opens the next stage in the human drama: “Then the eyes of both were opened, and they knew that they were naked.” Thus act 2 began: “And they sewed fig leaves together and made themselves loincloths . . . , and the man and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord.” They tried unsuccessfully to hide their sense of shame from each other (their sense of guilt emerges in the blame game in which they engage in 3:11–13). Nor could they hide from God. Their consciences had declared them to be guilty even before He asked them where they were (vv. 9–11).
Adam and Eve refused to allow “God alone” to be “Lord of the conscience.” In this context, it is easy to sense that the confession’s words sound like an eerie echo of the history of Eden. Adam and Eve were truly free when they lived according to God’s Word. They were in fact “free from the doctrines and commandments . . . which are, in anything, contrary to his Word; or beside it, if matters of faith, or worship.” Their tragic mistake was “to believe such doctrines . . . [and] obey such commands. . . .” But they foolishly listened to the serpent and exercised “implicit faith, and an absolute and blind obedience.” That process was calculated “to destroy liberty of conscience, and reason also” (WCF 20.2).
From where we stand at the other end of the Bible story, we see that the conscience is now no longer perfectly aligned with God’s Word. It is instead an aspect of people whose minds do not and whose wills cannot submit to God’s law (Rom. 8:7). Our regeneration needs to be accompanied by the recalibration of our consciences according to the Word of God. And if that process is to progress, we need to be on our guard against the same pattern of entrapment to which our first parents succumbed in Eden.
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Written by G. Campbell Morgan |
Sunday, December 24, 2023
You tell me that the miracles of Jesus were supernatural. I tell you, they were always restorations of the unnatural to natural positions. When he cured disease, it was but the restoration of man’s normal physical condition. He was taking away the results of sin. So, all along the line of his miracles of healing and his calling back out of death, he manifested his power. I see him in the contest with sin, showing men tentatively, not yet finally, how he had the power to take away sins.

Many people have difficulty celebrating Christmas because of their pain and heartache. But for the Christian, the Lord often uses pain and sorrow to move us into a more profound celebration because we realize that the Child we are celebrating is our ultimate redemption from all pain and heartache. The following profound thought by G. Campbell Morgan tells us why.
The terms of the promise of the advent were, “You shall call his name Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.” From hell? Certainly, but I pray you remember, only by saving them from their sins. He saves us not only from the punishment of sin but, more importantly, from sin itself. That was the great word, “He shall save his people from their sins.” When the shepherds heard the angels’ song, what did they say? “For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.” The promise of advent was that the coming One would take away sins.
During the probation of the long years, this person was meeting all the forces of human temptation and overcoming them. I think we may accurately and reverently speak of the long years of probation as testing years, years in which the fact of the sinlessness of the Son of God was worked out into human visibility.
What were the words of Jesus during his life and ministry?
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When we hear a sermon that stimulates our minds, we owe praise to God, not the preacher. When we hear a new song that provokes our hearts to worship, we ought to praise God long before the songwriter. When we receive the benefit of another person’s gifting we ought to express gratitude to God, not the one who merely made use of what God had generously bestowed upon him. We praise God, not the tool.

I watched in fascination as the programmer wrote line after line of code, each word and each line forming part of an increasingly complex whole. His fingers were barely visible as they tapped out letter after letter and number after number. And then his work was done. With a smile and a flourish, he compiled the code and hit “play.” I marveled to see what he had created. And I thought “What a great keyboard! If only I had that same keyboard I could create a program as incredible as that!”
I gazed with rapt attention as the artist shaped his sculpture. With a shaping tool held deftly in his hand, he carved away large portions of the marble and then, as he progressed, carefully tapped out much smaller ones. Then he took his rasp and delicately smoothed and polished the surface. Bit by bit he worked at that block of marble until it began to reveal the wondrous figure that he had had the vision to know was hidden within. And I spoke it out loud: “I need that shaping tool! I need that rasp! Those tools are responsible for this sculpture. I need them for myself.”
I stared fixedly as the mechanic repaired the engine that had long since ceased to function. With wrench and ratchet and a number of tools I could not identify, he dismantled, then cleaned, then repaired, then reassembled. Finally, he sat in the driver’s seat, turned the key, and listened in satisfaction as the engine roared to life.
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