Category Archives: Dogmatics/Systematic Theology

Discern Justification

Justification is rightly said to be “the doctrine by which the church stands or falls.”  It’s a central facet of the biblical good news.  If you mess up on justification, you’re messing up on the gospel and that’s potentially fatal.

What do we mean by “justification”?  Historic Protestant theology teaches that justification is a judicial declaration by God that a sinner is righteous.  This declaration or verdict is made only on the basis of what Christ has done in his perfect life and his perfect sacrifice on the cross.  This blessing of being declared righteous by God is received only by faith — which is to say, by resting and trusting in Christ alone.

Now there are several ways in which Christians can get this vital doctrine wrong.  Today I’m going to focus on two common mistakes.

By Works or By Faith Alone?

The first mistake has to do with the role of good works.  You may notice that, in the description I gave above, there was absolutely no mention of good works.  This is because the Bible plainly says in Romans 3:28, “For we hold that one is justified by faith apart from works of the law.”  Good works don’t factor in to how we are justified.

Sadly, there’s a lot of confusion out there on this point.  In 2018, Ligonier Ministries did their “State of Theology” survey.  One of the statements respondents were asked to evaluate was this:  “God counts a person as righteous not because of one’s works but only because of one’s faith in Jesus Christ.”  Here are the results:

These results are for the general American population.  Things are better for respondents who identify as “evangelical,” with 83% either somewhat agreeing or strongly agreeing.

However, if you phrase the question differently, you can end up with quite different results.  At a pastors’ convention in 2006, Shane Rosenthal from the White Horse Inn radio program asked pastors in an open-ended way about the basis of justification, whether it was by faith, by faith and works, or by works alone.  About half responded that justification is by faith and works.  Those were ostensibly Protestant pastors!

Let me be absolutely clear:  good works do not factor in to how we are justified.  Any one who tells you otherwise is departing not only from historic Protestantism, but from the biblical doctrine.  (“But what about James?”  See here if you’re asking that question at this point).

Event or Process?

A second common mistake has to do with the nature of justification as a court-room declaration or verdict.  Specifically, is it a one-time event or a life-long process for the Christian?  This isn’t an academic question.  It has enormous practical, pastoral significance.  If it’s a one-time event, then I can wake up each morning with the confidence that I’m still righteous in Christ.  I’m still secure in God’s family.  But if it’s a life-long process, then each day time and again I have to start over in my relationship with God.  Each day I begin by facing him as my judge, and not my Father.

So what does the Bible say?  Romans 5:1, “Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.”  That speaks of justification as a completed action with a consequence:  peace with God.  While it doesn’t use the word “justify,” Romans 8:1 drives home the same truth:  “There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.”  So why is there no condemnation?  Because of justification once and for all.  If you have believed in Jesus Christ with a true faith, you are justified once and for all.  A verdict made by the heavenly Judge is an event, not a process.

Now if you go back to that pastors’ convention in 2006, Shane Rosenthal asked pastors in an open-ended way:  is justification an event or a life-long process?  Some weren’t sure.  Some had to think about it.  A few clearly identified it as an event.  But 51% said that it’s a life-long process.

One would think that confessionally Reformed theologians would know better.  However, sadly, I’ve encountered this error in Reformed literature as well.  For example, Prof. Benne Holwerda (1909-1952) was a highly respected theologian in the Reformed Churches in the Netherlands.  He has a four-volume set of books with his catechism sermons in them (De dingen die ons van God geschonken zijn).  Some of these sermons have been translated into English.  Some of them are really good and insightful.  But when it comes to Lord’s Day 23, Holwerda takes a drastic misstep in the doctrine of justification.  Towards the end of the sermon, he argues that God’s justification is not a one-time judicial declaration, but an ongoing process in the covenant.  At the very least, he’s ambiguous on this:

Does God speak one time, and then I believe one time, and then justification is completed?  Oh no!  We live in the covenant with God and that is a living inter-relation (verkeer); as I believe, then God comes again with his word of acquittal to the people, who now believe, and drives him so to works of thankfulness:  justification by faith.  And as he does this, then God appears again and declares him truly acquitted, he justifies him then also through works, says James.

There shouldn’t be ambiguity here.  There certainly isn’t any ambiguity in the Heidelberg Catechism or the Reformation from which it originated.  The Roman Catholic Church taught/still teaches that justification is a process.  Historic Protestant theology (as expressed in the Reformed confessional tradition) maintains that justification is a once-for-all judicial declaration.

The Apostle Paul teaches us how important it is to get justification right.  It’s not only in Romans, but also in Galatians.  In fact, I’d say the importance of rightly understanding justification is expressed even more powerfully in Galatians.  Paul says that those who preach it wrongly preach “a different gospel” (Gal. 1:6).  Getting justification wrong means you’re preaching “man’s gospel” (Gal. 1:11).   Finally, it has hellacious consequences:  “If anyone is preaching to you a gospel contrary to the one you received, let him be accursed” (Gal. 1:9).  It’s vital to discern truth from error in regards to this key doctrine.


Discern the Doctrine of the Trinity

Athanasius, who warred against Arianism and lent his name to the Athanasian Creed.

How well do you know your Christian truth from error?  Are you able to discern when the theological wool is being pulled over your eyes?  In this series of blog posts, I want to cover some common errors that are easily overlooked.

We’ll start today with the doctrine of the Trinity.  It doesn’t get any more basic than this.  It’s crucially important to follow the biblical teaching regarding God.  Numerous battles have been waged in ages past to get this right.  The orthodox doctrine of the Trinity is found in its most precise form in the Athanasian Creed.  There Bible-believing Christians confess that there is one God who eternally exists in three distinct persons, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  To deny this is to deny the Christian faith and to endanger one’s salvation.  A lot is at stake!

When someone is in error regarding the doctrine of the Trinity, that error is labelled as a heresy.  Heresy is serious, soul-endangering error.  When we think of heresies in this area of theology, usually our thoughts go first to Arianism.  Arianism denies that God is triune.  Instead, Jesus is a creature — an exalted, almost god-like creature, but still a creature.  The Holy Spirit is the impersonal power of God.  The Jehovah’s Witnesses are modern-day Arians.  It’s fair to say that we quickly realize this one as a heresy and dismiss it as unbiblical.

The other common error is not so easily detected.  Consider this quote from a church’s statement of faith:

Our God is One, but manifested in three persons – the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, being coequal.

Or this quote from another church’s statement of faith:

We believe in one God revealed as the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.

Does that sound orthodox to you?  To many people it does.  It looks like all the elements are there.  We have one God, three persons.  We have Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  It may look orthodox at first glance.  But if you look closer, there’s a hitch.  The hitch is in the words “manifested” and “revealed.”  Those words indicate the presence of heresy.

This is the heresy known as modalism.  Like Arianism, this heresy dates back to the early church.  It’s commonly associated with Sabellius.  Sabellius believed in monotheism (one God), but he also recognized that the Bible spoke of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  How do you reconcile those two truths?  Sabellius taught that God is one, but he manifests or reveals himself at different times in one of three different ways.  Sometimes he manifests himself as Father, sometimes as Son, and sometimes as Holy Spirit.  It’s like God has three different masks he wears.  Sabellianism or modalism was recognized in the early church as unbiblical and heretical.  The Bible speaks of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit as three distinct persons who are the one true God.

Where do you find modalism today?  Mostly in what are called “Oneness Pentecostal” churches.  The churches quoted from above are Oneness Pentecostal.  One of the largest Oneness Pentecostal churches is the United Pentecostal Church.  They’re found globally, in Canada, Australia, and many other places.  The UPC statement of faith says it plainly:

There is one God, who has revealed Himself as our Father, in His Son Jesus Christ, and as the Holy Spirit. Jesus Christ is God manifested in flesh. He is both God and man.

Another way of detecting modalism is in the administration of baptism.  Many (but not all) Oneness Pentecostal churches baptize only in the name of Jesus Christ.  They do this because they reckon that baptizing in the name of Jesus Christ is also baptizing in the name of the Father and the Holy Spirit.  Orthodox Christianity considers such baptisms to be invalid.

Modern-day modalism testifies to how ancient Christian creeds (and the biblical truths they contain) have been so often forgotten or forsaken.  Those creeds and their formulations came to us via many hard-fought battles.  The church strove to express biblical truth with careful precision.  Today these creeds give us a ready tool to detect unbiblical teaching when it comes to the basics of who God is.  It’s the height of foolishness to think we can do without them.


Essential Latin for Reformed Christians: “Imago Dei”

Though it’s been a dead language for centuries, Latin continues to be bandied about in theology.  And in Reformed churches, we love our theology, which means we’re going to inevitably encounter some Latin.  Today’s expression is not a difficult one to figure out:  imago Dei.  The first word is clearly related to our English word “image,” and “Dei” is a form of Deus, “God.”  So:  the image of God.  Why not just say “the image of God”?   I don’t know for sure, but you do save two words, five letters, and two spaces!

Imago Dei is used in reference to humanity.  Human beings are “the image of God.”  It’s easy to say that; it’s much harder to explain.  At the very least, it means there is something in humanity that reflects God.  God has some attributes that cannot be reflected in human nature — for example, we cannot reflect his omnipresence or omniscience (comprehensive knowledge).  But we can, in some measure, reflect his love, wisdom, and goodness.  We can communicate with him and with one another.   These things are part of what it means to be imago Dei.

The Scriptures first tell us of this truth in Genesis 1:27, “So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them.”  Now there are those who say that the fall into sin meant that humanity lost the image of God.  This is based, I believe, on Ephesians 4:24 which encourages Christians “to put on the new self, created after the likeness of God in true righteousness and holiness.” This seems to indicate that becoming a Christian involves a recovery of the image of God — regeneration gives us a new nature which is again the imago Dei.  Heidelberg Catechism Q and A 6 uses the language of Ephesians 4:24 and confesses that at the beginning man was created good and in God’s image, “that is, in true righteousness and holiness.”  It seems to be implied that we lost this image with the fall into sin.  Thus, some say, if you are not a Christian, you’re not the image of God.  God has only restored his image in the regenerated.

Now if Genesis 1:27 and Ephesians 4:24 were the only passages bearing on this, we might be able to agree and leave it at that.  But Scripture says more.  Even Genesis says more in 9:6 — after the fall, after the flood:  “Whoever sheds the blood of man, by man shall his blood be shed, for God made man in his own image.”  Killing a human being is a weighty matter because of the imago Dei.  Cursing a fellow human being is treated the same way in James 3:9.  The Holy Spirit speaks of the tongue:  “With it we bless our Lord and Father, and with it we curse people who are made in the likeness of God.”  That’s not a reference to cursing fellow Christians, but to cursing people in general.  In general, all people are thus made in the likeness of God.

Evidently we need to make some kind of distinction here.  Theologians have sometimes distinguished between the image of God in the narrow or moral sense and the image of God in the broader sense.  Ephesians 4:24 refers to the former; Genesis 9:6 and James 3:9 refer to the latter.  The fall into sin shattered the imago Dei in the moral sense and horrifically vandalized (but didn’t obliterate) it in the broader sense.  Sin has affected both, but to varying degrees.  Regeneration begins to restore and refresh both.

One reason why a proper understanding of the imago Dei is so important is that it directly relates to human dignity.  Being image-bearers means that we human beings all have inherent dignity and worth.  Our value comes not from who we are in ourselves, but because of who we were created to reflect.  As Psalm 8 poetically states, we were created as the pinnacle of God’s creation, second only to the Creator himself.  So, when we look around us at our fellow human beings, we are looking at the image of our Creator.  Though shattered and vandalized, it’s still there and therefore they’re all valuable.  For each precious image-bearer, God wants us all to be part of his image restoration project through the sharing of the gospel.


Calvin’s Magnum Opus: A Critical Essay

A “magnum opus” is an author’s greatest work.  When it comes to John Calvin that should obviously be a reference to his Institutes of the Christian Religion.  This work is one of the classics of Protestant theology.  It is often referenced but seldom read as a complete work from front to back.  I first purchased my copy of the McNeill/Battles edition before starting pre-seminary studies in university.  Over the years I have read bits and pieces and there, often as a need or interest required.  But until this past year I have never read the Institutes through from beginning to end.

In this essay, I will share some of the highlights of my complete tour through this theological masterpiece.  I have points both of appreciation and critique.  I doubt anything I say here will be new – the volume of literature on the Institutes is vast and surely someone, somewhere has made similar observations.

I read the two-volume McNeill/Battles edition published in the Library of Christian Classics.  This edition is based on the final version Calvin published in 1559.  I also occasionally referred to the older editions of Beveridge and Allen, and even sometimes checked the original French and Latin.

Calvin originally wrote the Institutes in 1536 as a sort of catechetical handbook.  It was never designed to be a systematic theology – such a creature did not yet exist.  It was also not designed to be a book of extensive commentary on Scripture.  No, its original purpose was catechetical – to summarize the teaching of Scripture on essential matters of faith and life.  As the work progressed to its final form in 1559, it did however take on a more systematic form (the technical term is loci communes).  In some places there is limited commentary on Scripture – for example, when dealing with the Ten Commandments (2.9) or the Lord’s Prayer (3.20.34-49) – and there are extensive references to Scripture, but generally Calvin leaves biblical exposition to his commentaries.

His approach is typically theological with the Scriptures explicitly as a foundation.  However, by way of exception, there are parts that are more philosophical.  For example, in 1.15.6-8, Calvin discusses the soul.  There is almost nothing directly from Scripture in this discussion.  Instead, Calvin works more with philosophical ideas from the likes of Plato.  For a modern reader unfamiliar with Greek philosophy, this discussion is difficult to follow.

Related to that, there are places where Calvin follows Platonic notions instead of biblical ones.  One of the most well-known examples is how Calvin speaks of the body as the prison house of the soul.  He does this in at least four places (1.15.2, 2.7.13, 3.7.5, 3.9.4).  This devaluing of the body does not accord with the biblical worldview.  In Scripture, the body is redeemed by Christ just as well as the soul (1 Cor. 6:19-20), and will be raised at the last day (1 Cor. 15).

Some have claimed Calvin as the high point of the Reformation.  This has been often asserted especially in relation to “scholasticism.”  The old narrative was that the medieval church was plagued with scholasticism.  The Reformers came and brought the church back to the Bible.  Then, sadly, a following generation reversed many of the gains and scholasticism again crippled the church.  In this old narrative, scholasticism is usually not carefully defined.  If we define it as a method of teaching theology which includes clear definitions, distinctions, and argumentative techniques, the narrative shifts rather dramatically.  In fact, if we define scholasticism in this way, Calvin himself has plenty of scholastic method in the Institutes (this was originally something I learned from Richard Muller in his The Unaccommodated Calvin).  I have outlined here the many different distinctions Calvin used and discussed.  Throughout the Institutes he pays careful attention to definitions.  There are numerous places where he employs syllogisms and other forms of logic/reasoning (e.g. 2.5.1).  It would not be fair to say that Calvin is scholastic, but it is completely justified to argue there are scholastic elements in the Institutes.

The attentive reader will pick up on Calvin’s copiousness.  He had read widely.  Throughout the Institutes, Calvin refers to numerous authors going all the way back to the early church.  Two stand out in particular.  The most quoted and referred to author is Augustine.  This is not surprising since Augustine is the most influential of the church fathers on the Protestant Reformers in general.  Most of the time Calvin quotes Augustine approvingly, but there are also occasions where he dissents.  The other author is Bernard of Clairvaux, a Cistercian monk who lived from 1090 to 1153.  While Bernard lived before the worst developments in Catholic theology, he was still not exactly a medieval quasi-Protestant.  Nevertheless, Calvin made use of Bernard’s best insights.  In 2.16.1, Calvin gives this beautiful quote from Bernard’s Sermons on the Song of Songs:

The name of Jesus is not only light, but also food; it is also oil, without which all food of the soul is dry; it is salt, without whose seasoning whatever is set before us is insipid; finally, it is honey in the mouth, melody in the ear, rejoicing in the heart, and at the same time medicine.  Every discourse in which his name is not spoken is without savor.

Calvin appreciated Bernard’s fervour for Christ and his felicitous turn of phrase.

Calvin likewise employed language with a skilled eye to felicity.  Trained as a humanist (in the classical sense of the word), Calvin valued beautiful rhetoric.  Throughout the Institutes there are words so well-crafted you may occasionally feel some salty moisture rolling down your cheek.   If you compare these Institutes with those of a later Genevan theologian named Francis Turretin, the contrast could scarcely be starker.  The language of Turretin’s Institutes of Elenctic Theology is technical and pays little attention to aesthetics.  It is often like reading a car manual for theology.  However, Calvin’s Institutes feature numerous sections like this in 3.2.42:

Accordingly, in brief, hope is nothing else than the expectation of those things which faith has believed to have been truly promised by God.  Thus, faith believes God to be true, hope awaits the time when his truth shall be manifested; faith believes that he is our Father, hope anticipates that he will ever show himself to be a Father toward us; faith believes that eternal life has been given to us, hope anticipates that it will some time be revealed; faith is the foundation upon which hope rests, hope nourishes and sustains faith.

Calvin was indubitably a master of using language to powerful effect.

Regrettably, I have to say I also encountered instances where Calvin uses strong, questionable, or even offensive language.  He uses strong language when it comes to unbiblical and dangerous ideas.  But he also uses strong words for the person of his theological opponents:  “blockheads” (3.20.25), “stupid men” (3.21.7), “swine” (3.23.12), and many other such insults.  I have read enough Reformation literature to know Calvin was not unusual in using this kind of language – and our day tends to be far more sensitive about throwing invectives around in our theological polemics.

I am far less inclined to give Calvin a pass on some other language he uses.  In three places, Calvin uses the exclamation “Good God!”  (3.4.29, 3.4.39, 4.16.27).  In each context, it is clearly an exclamation and not a sincerely-meant prayer to God.  The expression was used in Calvin’s original Latin of the 1559 edition (“Bone Deus!”), but for some reason he dropped it in the French.  In each instance, the older translations of Beveridge and Allen omit these exclamations.  I have encountered the same expression in the writings of Guido de Brès.  I find it troubling and I cannot find a way to excuse it.  I would suppose that, being former Roman Catholics, they became accustomed to using this exclamation to express great horror — a blind spot.

For readers today there are some challenges in reading and benefiting from Calvin’s Institutes.  Some of the discussion has less relevance to us.  For example, I found the discussion about the sacramental theology of the Roman Catholic Church to be one of the most tedious parts of the work.  It may be interesting from a historical standpoint, and it might still be valuable to someone actively engaged in apologetics with Roman Catholics, but for the rest of us, the temptation to skip through this section is difficult to resist.

Persevering readers will encounter some of Calvin’s best and most well-known theological insights.  Among them:

  • The Scriptures serve as spectacles to help us see God clearly (1.6.1, 1.14.1)
  • “…man’s nature, so to speak, is a perpetual factory of idols.” (1.11.8)
  • Calvin believes the world to be less than 6000 years old (1.14.1, 3.21.4)
  • Justification “is the main hinge on which religion turns.” (3.11.1)
  • Fasting “is an excellent aid for believers today (as it always was)…” (4.12.18)
  • If baptism is to be denied to the infant children of believers because Scripture is silent on the explicit practice, then women should also be denied access to the Lord’s Supper (4.16.8)
  • The Lord’s Supper should be celebrated frequently, preferably every week (4.17.43)
  • Aristocracy, or perhaps a system compounded of aristocracy and democracy “far excels” all other systems of government (4.20.8)
  • Revolts are possible when led by lower magistrates (4.20.30)

Reading Calvin’s Institutes will remind Reformed believers today that Calvin is not the gold standard for what it means to be Reformed.  After all, there are several points at which much contemporary Reformed faith and practice departs from Calvin.  For example, in 4.3.16, he discusses the laying on of hands in connection with office bearers.  This laying on of hands ought to be practiced not only with the ordination of “pastors and teachers,” but also deacons.  Interestingly, the original Belgic Confession also said that all office bearers should be ordained with the laying on of hands.

Let me conclude with noting that the McNeill/Battles edition is generally well-done.  There are comprehensive indices.  There are immense numbers of helpful explanatory footnotes. It must be said, however, that some of these footnotes reflect the editor’s liberal theological bias.  For example, in a footnote in 1.8.8, the editor informs us that Calvin did not hold to the modern view of a late date for Isaiah 45 and its mention of Cyrus.  Well, I guess not, seeing as how Calvin believed the Bible to be the Word of God!   As another example, in a footnote in 4.8.9, the editor claims Calvin does not explicitly support biblical inerrancy anywhere.  While it would obviously be anachronistic to expect Calvin to affirm every jot and tittle of the Chicago Statement on Biblical Inerrancy, there is plenty of evidence to affirm Calvin has far more in common with biblical inerrantists today than their opponents.

For most Reformed people today, Calvin’s Institutes will remain a reference.  No one should expect regular church members to pick it up and read it straight through with profit.  Those who try will almost certainly get frustrated and give up.  We must be realistic.  It is a work from an era in which theologians could expect far more from their readers.  I wonder whether even many of today’s pastors would be able to digest everything Calvin serves up.  Some of his discussions and references certainly went beyond my ken.  We live in a strange time where we have more access to information than anyone else in the history of world, and yet, compared to Calvin from 500 years ago, we are dullards.  Reading through the Institutes certainly drove that point home to me.


Essential Latin for Reformed Christians: Filioque

Today’s bit of helpful Latin was one small word that played a big role in splitting the church:  Filioque — that’s pronounced “Fili-o-kway.”  In English it translates to “and the Son.”  “Filioque” was a word added to the Nicene Creed by the Western Church at the Third Council of Toledo in 589.  In the original form of the Nicene Creed, adopted in 381, the Holy Spirit was confessed only to proceed from the Father.  However, in 589, the Western Church decided to insert “Filioque,” meaning that the Holy Spirit is confessed to proceed from both the Father and the Son.

This change was never accepted by the Eastern Church.  To this day, Eastern Orthodoxy continues to hold the original Nicene Creed with a single procession, while in the West confessional Protestantism and Roman Catholicism maintain a double procession.  The Third Council of Toledo was not an ecumenical council and therefore the Eastern Church did not participate.  They were later astounded to discover that the Western Church went ahead and unilaterally changed an ecumenical creed at a non-ecumenical council.  Adding further fuel to their ire was the fact that there was an explicit Nicean canon that the wording of the creed was not to be altered.  Of course, beyond procedure there was also the question of whether the Filioque clause was theologically correct — the East insisted it was not.

As mentioned, the West made this change in 589, but the Great Schism between West and East didn’t happen until 1054.  The Filioque was a major thorn in the East’s side for nearly five centuries.  But there were other irritations contributing to gradual estrangement.  Finally, in 1054, things boiled over with leaders from each side excommunicating one another.  While these excommunications were undone in 1965, the rift between East and West remains, as does the Filioque in Western editions of the Nicene Creed.

The history is interesting, but the more important question is whether the Filioque is biblical.  I believe it is.  Let me just mention two places where I see this truth revealed in Scripture.  In Acts 2, we read about Pentecost, the pouring out of the Holy Spirit upon the church.  In Acts 2:33, Peter says that Christ “has poured out this that you yourselves are seeing and hearing.”  The Holy Spirit was poured out by Christ.  No, it does not say “proceeds,” but the thought is the same.  The Holy Spirit has come from Christ to be poured out on the church.  There is also John 15:26 where Jesus says, “But when the Helper comes, whom I will send to you from the Father, the Spirit of truth, who proceeds from the Father, he will bear witness about me.”  In this instance, there is a clear reference to the Spirit’s procession from the Father.  Yet it should not be overlooked that Christ also speaks of his own sending of the Holy Spirit.

But what does it mean exactly to confess that the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father and the Son?  What exactly is “procession”?  There is mystery here.  We can safely say what it is not.  It is not the same as the begetting that we confess of the Son in relation to the Father.  But beyond that, I find myself sympathizing with Donald Macleod in Behold Your God:  “What this ontological procession actually is or what is meant by the Father and the Son spirating or breathing the Spirit, we simply do not know” (p.198).

Finally, does it really matter?  For the sake of recovering unity with the East, could we not shelve the Filioque?  In response, the East has far more problems than this that would stand in the way of rapprochement  with biblical Christians.  And it does matter, because despite the procedural issues which led to its acceptance in the West, the Filioque is biblical.  Theologically speaking, it matters because it’s a matter of honour for our Lord Christ.  As Donald Macleod notes, “To deny that the Son participates in the procession of the Holy Spirit is to reduce His status” (p.202).

In theology, words matter supremely.  Just one word can make a huge difference.  So, the next time you confess the Nicene Creed in public worship, don’t gloss over “who proceeds from the Father and the Son.”  Think about that and then honour and adore also the Son for his role in blessing us with the Holy Spirit.