Devotional 64: The Application of Justification: From Eternal Decree to Personal Faith

The Confession Read

God did, from all eternity, decree to justify all the elect; and Christ did, in the fulness of time, die for their sins, and rise again for their justification: nevertheless, they are not justified, until the Holy Spirit doth, in due time, actually apply Christ unto them.

— Westminster Confession of Faith, Chapter 11, Section 4

Introduction

When were you justified? Ask that question of ten Christians and you may receive ten different answers. Some will say, "Before the foundation of the world, when God chose me in Christ." Others will answer, "At the cross, when Jesus died for my sins and rose for my justification." Still others will say, "The moment I first believed — I remember the very hour." And the remarkable thing is that all three answers are true, though in profoundly different senses. The danger lies not in affirming any one of them, but in affirming one to the exclusion of the others. For when we collapse the eternal decree into the historical cross, or the historical cross into the personal experience of faith, we lose hold of the very structure of salvation itself. The Westminster Divines understood this danger with an acuity born of pastoral experience and theological controversy. They had seen what happens when men take a single strand of biblical truth and weave it into a whole garment, ignoring the other strands that Scripture has woven together. In Section 2 of this chapter, they guarded the instrumentality of faith — faith alone justifies, yet the faith that justifies is never alone. In Section 3, they guarded the ground of justification — Christ's full satisfaction, offered freely, received by faith. Now, in Section 4, they guard the relationship between God's eternal purpose and its temporal fulfillment. And what they give us is a doctrine of exquisite balance: the decree is from eternity, the purchase is in history, the application is in the soul — and none of these may be confused with the others. This is not idle theological speculation. It touches the very heart of Christian assurance. If you think you were justified from eternity apart from any work of the Spirit in your heart, you may be resting in a decree that has never been applied to you. If you think your justification depends on the intensity of your faith rather than the Object of your faith, you may be looking inward when you should be looking upward. The road between these two precipices is narrow, but the Divines have marked it with such clarity that no pilgrim need fall.

Scripture Foundation

The Apostle Paul, drawing his argument toward its climactic conclusion in the eighth chapter of Romans, sets before us what theologians have long called the golden chain of salvation — five unbreakable links stretching from eternity past to eternity future, each dependent on the one before, each guaranteeing the one after. Romans 8:29-30 "For whom he did foreknow, he also did predestinate to be conformed to the image of his Son, that he might be the firstborn among many brethren. Moreover whom he did predestinate, them he also called: and whom he called, them he also justified: and whom he justified, them he also glorified." The architecture of this passage is the architecture of our salvation. Paul begins with foreknowledge — not a bare prescience by which God looked down the corridor of time and saw who would believe, but that intimate, electing love by which he set his affection upon particular persons before they existed. The Greek word proginōskō carries the weight of covenant commitment: to know beforehand is to love beforehand, to choose beforehand, to set apart beforehand. And those whom God thus foreknew, he predestined — proōrisen, he marked out the boundary of their destiny, and that boundary is nothing less than conformity to the image of his Son. Then Paul moves from eternity into time. Those whom he predestined, he called — not with the external call of the gospel that sounds in every ear but with the inward, effectual call that raises the dead. Those whom he called, he justified — the forensic declaration, the verdict of the heavenly court, the imputation of Christ's righteousness received by faith. And then, remarkably, Paul speaks of glorification in the aorist tense: edoxasen, "he glorified." Not "he will glorify," as though it were uncertain. But "he glorified" — as certain as if it had already occurred, because the decree that guarantees it cannot fail. Notice what Paul does not say. He does not say that the predestined are already justified. He does not collapse the chain into a single link. Each link is distinct, and each must occur in its order. Predestination is not calling; calling is not justification; justification is not glorification. But neither can any link be missing. The chain is entire, and the entire chain is of God. Turn now to the opening of Paul's letter to the Ephesians, where the same truth is cast in the language of election and adoption. Ephesians 1:4-5 "According as he hath chosen us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and without blame before him in love: having predestinated us unto the adoption of children by Jesus Christ to himself, according to the good pleasure of his will." Before a single star was kindled, before the mountains were raised from the deep, before Adam drew his first breath in Eden — God chose a people in Christ. The verb exelexato, "he hath chosen," is in the middle voice: God chose for himself, out of his own sovereign good pleasure, not constrained by anything outside himself. The purpose of this election is adoption: that those who were by nature children of wrath might become by grace children of God. But note the preposition: not "predestinated us in adoption" but "predestinated us unto the adoption." The destination is set in eternity; the arrival occurs in time. The papers are signed in the council of the Trinity before the world began; the ceremony occurs when the Spirit of adoption enters the heart and we cry, "Abba, Father." Paul grounds the entire transaction not in foreseen merit or foreseen faith but in "the good pleasure of his will." The decree is free. It is sovereign. It is unconditional. And precisely because it is unconditional, it is unshakeable. Now consider a passage that speaks directly to the mediatorial work of Christ and its relation to God's eternal purpose. Galatians 4:4-5 "But when the fulness of the time was come, God sent forth his Son, made of a woman, made under the law, to redeem them that were under the law, that we might receive the adoption of sons." Here Paul deploys a phrase of extraordinary theological density: to plērōma tou chronou, "the fulness of the time." It suggests a vessel being filled drop by drop, steadily and surely, until at last it overflows. The long ages of preparation — the calling of Abraham, the giving of the law, the rise and fall of empires, the voices of the prophets — were all converging toward a single, appointed moment. Not a moment too soon, not a moment too late. When every necessary condition had been met, when the stage of history was set precisely as God had ordained, he sent forth his Son. And the purpose of that sending was twofold: to redeem — to buy back from the curse of the law those who were under it — and to secure adoption. But then Paul adds a verb that carries the whole weight of this section: "that we might receive the adoption." The Greek word apolabōmen is a compound: apo, from, and lambanō, to take or receive. It suggests a conscious taking hold of something offered, a deliberate reception of a gift extended. Christ has purchased the adoption; the Spirit brings the soul to receive it. And this receiving occurs at a particular moment in the life of each believer — the "due time" of which our Confession speaks. Paul's letter to Titus gives us the clearest portrait of how the Holy Spirit brings God's eternal decree to fruition in the experience of the elect. Titus 3:5-7 "Not by works of righteousness which we have done, but according to his mercy he saved us, by the washing of regeneration, and renewing of the Holy Ghost; which he shed on us abundantly through Jesus Christ our Saviour; that being justified by his grace, we should be made heirs according to the hope of eternal life." The Apostle explicitly links regeneration by the Spirit with justification by grace. The Holy Ghost is "shed on us abundantly" — the Greek execheen paints a picture of lavish, generous outpouring, like oil poured over the head of a priest at his consecration, like the anointing that sets apart for holy service. And it is through this outpouring that we come to be justified. The washing of regeneration is the Spirit's work; the verdict of justification is the Father's declaration; both come to us through Jesus Christ our Saviour. And both occur in time, at that divinely appointed moment when the Spirit takes hold of a dead sinner and breathes life into his soul. One final passage, from our Lord's own lips, reveals why the Spirit's work is not optional but absolutely indispensable. John 16:8-11 "And when he is come, he will reprove the world of sin, and of righteousness, and of judgment: of sin, because they believe not on me; of righteousness, because I go to my Father, and ye see me no more; of judgment, because the prince of this world is judged." Before the Spirit comes, no sinner sees his need of justification. The world sleeps in spiritual death, content in its guilt, blind to its danger. But when the Spirit comes — when he convicts, when he reproves — the sinner awakens. He sees his sin: not merely his outward transgressions but the master sin of unbelief, the refusal to trust the Son whom the Father sent. He sees Christ's righteousness: now enthroned at the Father's right hand, the righteousness of One who has finished his work and sat down, the only righteousness that can stand before the judgment seat of God. And he sees judgment: the decisive overthrow of the prince of this world, the certainty that the victory has been won and the enemy's doom is sealed. This threefold conviction is the Spirit's application of the Son's finished work. Without it, my dear listener, not one sinner would ever be justified, though Christ died for a thousand worlds and God decreed their salvation from all eternity. The Spirit is not an optional supplement to the plan of redemption; he is the divine Executor who brings the eternal purpose to pass in the experience of God's elect.

What the Divines Meant

When the Westminster Assembly turned its attention to the relationship between God's eternal decree and the sinner's actual justification, they were not constructing a new doctrine. They were defending an old one — as old as Paul, as old as Augustine, as old as the Reformation — against errors that had arisen within the Protestant camp itself. The most dangerous of these errors was the doctrine of eternal justification, associated particularly with the antinomian preacher Tobias Crisp. Crisp and his followers, drawing extreme conclusions from the doctrine of predestination, argued that the elect were actually justified from eternity. Before they were born, before they sinned, before Christ died, before they believed — they were already justified, and faith merely manifested what had always been true. The logic seemed compelling to some: if God decreed from eternity to justify the elect, then surely the elect are justified from eternity. What God has decreed, they reasoned, must already be accomplished. But the Westminster Divines saw clearly that this collapses the distinction between God's decree and its execution. They understood, as any child understands, that a decree is not the same thing as the thing decreed. When a king decrees that a bridge shall be built across a river, the bridge does not exist the moment the decree is signed. The decree guarantees the bridge; it authorizes the bridge; it sets in motion all the means necessary for the bridge. But the bridge itself does not stand until architects have drawn their plans, stonemasons have cut their stones, and labourers have laid the final course. The decree and the bridge are not the same thing, and no amount of royal authority can make them so. So it is with justification. God's eternal decree guarantees the salvation of every elect soul. It cannot fail. But it does not make the elect person justified apart from the work of Christ in history and the work of the Spirit in the heart. The decree does not bypass Golgotha, and it does not bypass Pentecost. Notice the three temporal markers embedded in this brief section with lapidary precision. "From all eternity" — the decree, the Father's sovereign choice before the foundation of the world. "In the fulness of time" — the purchase, the Son's incarnation, obedience, death, and resurrection at the appointed moment in history. "In due time" — the application, the Spirit's effectual work at the divinely appointed season for each individual elect soul. The Confession refuses to collapse these three moments into one. The decree is not the death; the death is not the application; the application is not the decree. Each has its own place in the economy of salvation, and to confuse them is to unravel the whole fabric of biblical soteriology. The Divines were also contending with the Arminian error, which approached the problem from the opposite direction. According to the Remonstrants, God's decree to justify was conditional — based on foreseen faith. God chose to justify those whom he foresaw would believe. In this scheme, the decree is no longer the cause of faith; faith becomes the cause of the decree. The Confession had already refuted this in its chapters on God's eternal decree and effectual calling, but here it reinforces the point with the phrase "from all eternity." Before any human being existed, before any act of faith could be foreseen, before any merit could be anticipated — God decreed. The decree is rooted in nothing outside of God himself. It is the expression of his sovereign, free, and unchangeable will. Yet the Confession simultaneously safeguards against the error that arises when men, having grasped the doctrine of unconditional election, conclude that the means of grace are unnecessary. This is the error of hyper-Calvinism — not the robust, evangelical Calvinism of the Reformers and Puritans, but a distortion that claims the comfort of election while neglecting the Word, the sacraments, prayer, and holiness. The Divines answer this with the crucial word "nevertheless": "nevertheless, they are not justified, until the Holy Spirit doth, in due time, actually apply Christ unto them." The decree does not suspend the ordo salutis — the order of salvation. Faith remains the necessary instrument. The Spirit's regenerating work remains the necessary precondition. The preaching of the gospel remains the ordinary means. The God who decreed the end has also decreed the means, and no man may claim the one while neglecting the other. The phrase "actually apply" repays the closest attention. The Divines chose the word "actually" to stress that justification is not merely potential or conditional — as though Christ had made salvation possible for all but actual for none until faith makes it so. Nor is it merely a disclosure of what was always true — as the eternal justifications taught. No, when the Spirit applies Christ, something genuinely happens. A real transaction takes place. A sinner who was truly under the wrath of God is truly brought into a state of acceptance. His legal status before the heavenly court is irreversibly altered. This is not the unveiling of a pre-existing reality but the actual conferral of a new status. And the phrase "in due time" — rendered in tempore opportuno in the Latin translation used by the Divines — suggests an appointed season, a moment sovereignly chosen by God for each of his elect children. For some, that due time comes in childhood, at a mother's knee, before the memory can fix the date. For others, it comes in youth, through the witness of a faithful friend or the preaching of a searching sermon. For others still, it comes in old age, after a lifetime of rebellion, when the eleventh-hour grace of God overtakes the fugitive at last. For the thief on the cross, it came in his final hours, with nails through his hands and death before his eyes. The timing is not random; it is appointed. And every conversion is a milestone in the unfolding of the decretum aeternum, the eternal decree.

Theological Depth

Robert Shaw, whose exposition of the Confession has instructed generations of Scottish Presbyterians, captures the delicate balance of this section with characteristic clarity. "Though God decreed from eternity to justify the elect," Shaw writes, "yet they are not justified until they believe in Christ, and by faith receive the gift of justification." The decree, he notes, "does not constitute them actually righteous; it only ensures that, in due time, they shall be made righteous through faith in Christ." Here is the distinction stated plainly: the decree is the divine guarantee of an outcome; justification itself is the divine act that occurs when the outcome is realized. Shaw presses further, observing that between the decree and the application lies the entire historical work of Christ. The decree did not make the incarnation unnecessary; it made it certain. The decree did not make Golgotha superfluous; it made Golgotha inevitable. And just as the decree did not bypass the Son's satisfaction, so it does not bypass the Spirit's application. "The whole plan of salvation," Shaw concludes, "from the eternal purpose to the final glorification, is one harmonious scheme, in which every part is essential and no part can be dispensed with." To pluck any thread from this tapestry is to begin unravelling the whole. William Perkins, the father of Elizabethan Puritanism whose works nourished a generation of preachers and whose influence reached across the Atlantic to shape the piety of early New England, developed what he called the golden chain of salvation — a concept drawn directly from Romans 8:29-30 and given systematic form in his treatise of that name. Perkins traced each link from predestination to glorification, insisting with great pastoral urgency that no link can be missing from the life of any true believer. But Perkins was equally concerned with the practical, experiential question: How may a Christian know that he belongs to this golden chain? His answer has lost none of its wisdom. "If thou wouldst be assured of thy election," he wrote, "look not first to the secret decree of God, which belongs not to thee to search, but look to the effects of that decree in thine own soul. Hast thou been called? Dost thou believe? Dost thou bear the fruits of faith? By these steps ascend to the knowledge of thy election, and so make it sure." Election is the hidden root, buried deep in the soil of eternity where no human eye can see. Calling and faith are the visible branches, bearing leaves and fruit above ground where they may be examined. Judge the root by the branches, Perkins counsels, not the branches by the root. This is profound pastoral wisdom. The man who claims the comfort of election while his life bears no evidence of the Spirit's work has reversed Perkins' order. He is trying to judge the branches by a root he has never seen, and the comfort he draws is a delusion. But the trembling saint, who sees in his own heart the marks of the Spirit's calling — a grief for sin, a hunger for righteousness, a fledgling love for Christ — may reason backward from the branches to the root and find solid ground for assurance. Perkins understood that the doctrine of eternal justification, pressed into careless hands, becomes a pillow for spiritual sloth. His golden chain was designed to prevent precisely that abuse. Herman Witsius, the Dutch theologian whose Economy of the Covenants remains one of the richest explorations of covenant theology in the Reformed tradition, grounds this entire discussion in a truth more foundational still: the eternal covenant of redemption between the Father and the Son. For Witsius, the decree to justify the elect is not an abstract divine decision made in solitude. It is a personal transaction within the blessed Trinity. Drawing on Zechariah 6:13 — "the counsel of peace shall be between them both" — Witsius describes what has come to be called the pactum salutis, the covenant of peace. In this eternal counsel, the Father gives a people to the Son; the Son undertakes to redeem them by his incarnation, obedience, suffering, and death; and the Spirit undertakes to apply that redemption to each one in the appointed time. "In the counsel of peace," Witsius writes, "the elect were considered as fallen, guilty, and miserable; and the Father demanded satisfaction for them; the Son offered himself to make satisfaction; and the Holy Spirit undertook to bring them to the enjoyment of that satisfaction." This Trinitarian framework illuminates our Confession's three temporal markers. The decree "from all eternity" is the Father's act in the covenant of peace. The death and resurrection "in the fulness of time" is the Son's fulfillment of his covenant obligation. The application "in due time" is the Spirit's execution of his covenant office. Justification, Witsius explains, "was, as it were, transacted in the divine mind from eternity; but the actual sentence of justification is not pronounced upon the conscience until the sinner, being united to Christ by faith, pleads the satisfaction of Christ as the ground of his acceptance." The decree, the satisfaction, and the application — all three are necessary, and all three are the unfolding of a single, unified, Trinitarian purpose. There is no tension between them because they are the work of the one God in three persons, each person acting in perfect harmony with the others. B.B. Warfield, writing at Princeton two centuries later with the precision of a trained exegete and the warmth of a devoted churchman, addresses a question that naturally arises from this discussion. If justification is by faith, and faith is the gift of God given in his appointed time, how can we speak of the elect as being under wrath before their conversion? Do they not belong to God from eternity? Are they not loved with an everlasting love? Warfield answers with characteristic directness. The elect, before their effectual calling, are "children of wrath, even as others," as Paul says in Ephesians 2:3. The decree to justify them does not alter their present condition; it only guarantees their future deliverance. "The wrath of God," Warfield writes, "is a present reality for the unbeliever, even if that unbeliever is among the elect. The decree of election does not suspend the operations of divine justice; it provides for their satisfaction in Christ." Until the Spirit applies that satisfaction to the individual, the individual remains under the judgment his sins deserve. The love of God for the elect is real from eternity, but it is a love of purpose, a love that intends their salvation — not a love of complacency that delights in their present state. The two must be distinguished, and Warfield distinguishes them with the care of a man who knows that souls are at stake. Warfield helpfully elaborates the distinction between God's decretive will and his preceptive will. In his decretive will, God has purposed to save the elect, and that purpose cannot fail. In his preceptive will, God commands all men everywhere to repent and believe the gospel. The unbelieving elect person is not yet obedient to the preceptive will of God — he is in a state of rebellion, and that rebellion is real, not fictitious. His election does not excuse his unbelief; it guarantees that, in God's appointed time, his unbelief will be overcome by the Spirit's regenerating power. This distinction preserves both the sovereignty of grace and the genuine responsibility of the sinner, and it is essential to any faithful preaching of the gospel. A.A. Hodge, in his commentary on the Confession, raises a question that every pastor has faced and every grieving parent has asked: if justification does not occur until the Spirit applies Christ, what are we to make of the children of believers who die in infancy? Are they justified? Hodge answers by appealing to the broader Reformed understanding of the covenant of grace. The children of believers, dying in infancy, are saved — not because they are born justified, but because the Spirit can and does apply the benefits of Christ's redemption even to those incapable of conscious faith. The application is real, though the mode of it is hidden from us. The Confession's insistence that justification occurs "in due time" through the Spirit's work does not exclude those who cannot exercise conscious faith; it simply refuses to specify a mechanism that Scripture has not revealed. We entrust such little ones to the mercy of God in Christ, confident that the Judge of all the earth will do right, and that the arms which welcomed the children brought to him in Galilee are open still.

Puritan Application

Let us now bring this doctrine down from the heights of theological reflection into the chambers of the heart, where truth must dwell if it is to save. First, rest in the unshakeable certainty of your justification. If God decreed to justify you from all eternity, and if Christ purchased that justification in the fulness of time, and if the Spirit has applied it to your soul in due time — then your standing before God is more secure than the mountains. The decree cannot be revoked, because God does not change. The purchase cannot be undone, because Christ's resurrection is the Father's receipt. The application cannot be reversed, because the Spirit is the seal and earnest of your inheritance. Your feelings will fluctuate like the weather; your performance will shame you every day; your faith itself will sometimes seem as thin as a thread. But the thread is held by a hand that cannot fail, and the decree that stands behind it is as fixed as the throne of God. This is the true ground of Christian assurance — not the strength of your faith, but the strength of the God in whom your faith rests. Second, do not presume upon the decree to neglect the means. This is the snare into which the antinomians fell, and it is a snare for every generation. The reasoning is subtle: "If God has decreed to save me, what does it matter whether I read the Scriptures, attend the public worship, flee temptation, or pursue holiness? The decree will be fulfilled regardless." But this is the logic of the flesh, not the logic of faith. The God who decreed the end has also decreed the means, and you cannot have the one without the other. The man who neglects the means of grace has no warrant whatsoever to claim the comfort of election. Perkins' rule remains as binding as ever: judge the root by the branches. If there is no hunger for the Word, no delight in prayer, no grief over sin, no love for the brethren — what evidence is there that the Spirit has applied Christ to your soul? Far better to tremble at your condition and flee to Christ now, while the day of grace still shines, than to lull yourself to sleep with a doctrine you have twisted into a pillow for your sloth. Third, behold the Trinitarian shape of your justification and worship accordingly. Every person of the Godhead is engaged in this work. The Father decreed your salvation before the world began. The Son purchased it at the appointed hour in history. The Spirit applied it at the appointed moment in your life. Your justification is not the work of a distant, solitary deity who saves in the abstract. It is the work of the triune God, in whom each person delights to glorify the others. The Father glorifies the Son by giving him a redeemed people. The Son glorifies the Father by satisfying his justice. The Spirit glorifies them both by uniting sinners to Christ. When you bow your head to give thanks for your justification, you are thanking the Father who chose you, the Son who died for you, and the Spirit who opened your blind eyes to see the glory of them both. Keep the Trinity central in your piety, for the Trinity is central in your salvation. Fourth, honour the Holy Spirit as the indispensable Applier of redemption. There is a quiet tendency in some quarters of the church to speak of the Spirit as though he were a gentle influence, a vague religious atmosphere, a wind that blows where it will but never quite takes definite shape. But the Spirit of God is a person — the third person of the blessed Trinity, equal in power and glory with the Father and the Son. Without his sovereign, effectual work, not one sinner would ever be justified, though Christ died for a thousand worlds. It is the Spirit who convicts of sin; the Spirit who grants repentance; the Spirit who creates faith where there was only unbelief; the Spirit who unites the soul to Christ. When you trace the moment of your conversion — that "due time" when Christ was applied to your soul — you are tracing the footsteps of the Holy Ghost. Depend upon him daily. Pray for his continued work in your heart. Grieve him not by presumptuous sin, but walk in the fellowship of his presence, for he is the seal of your redemption, the earnest of your inheritance, the one by whom you cry, "Abba, Father." Fifth, be patient with those who do not yet believe. The Confession speaks of the Spirit applying Christ "in due time" — a time appointed by the Father, purchased by the Son, and executed by the Spirit. If you have children or friends or neighbours who remain in unbelief, do not despair. Their "due time" may not yet have come. The same God who decreed to justify his elect from eternity has appointed the very hour when the Spirit will open their hearts. Your prayers are not wasted; they are among the appointed means. Your witness is not in vain; it is the ordinary channel through which the Spirit works. You are not responsible for the timing of their conversion; you are responsible to be faithful in the means. And when that "due time" arrives — perhaps this afternoon, perhaps years from now, perhaps on a deathbed like the penitent thief — you will see that the delay was not divine indifference but divine wisdom, orchestrating every circumstance for the glory of God and the good of that precious soul.

Prayer

O eternal God, whose counsels are from everlasting and whose purposes none can thwart: we bow before thee in wonder and in gratitude. Before the mountains were brought forth, before the earth and the world were formed, thou didst set thy love upon us in Jesus Christ. Thou didst decree to justify us, knowing all the sin we would commit, all the rebellion we would cherish, all the grief we would cause thy Holy Spirit. Such love is too wonderful for us; it is high, and we cannot attain unto it. We bless thee for the coming of thy Son in the fulness of time — born of a woman, born under the law, to redeem us from the curse. We thank thee that he did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, becoming obedient unto death, even the death of the cross. In his wounds we see the price of our pardon; in his resurrection we see the receipt of our justification. His work is finished, and nothing can be added to it. We praise thee for the coming of the Holy Spirit, who in due time sought us out in our darkness and brought us to the light. We were dead in trespasses and sins, children of wrath, even as others. But the Spirit, the Lord and Giver of life, breathed upon our dry bones and we lived. He convinced us of sin, of righteousness, and of judgment. He drew us to Christ when we would not and could not come of ourselves. Every grace we possess, every holy desire, every tear of repentance, every glance of faith toward the cross — all these are his work, and to him be all the glory. O triune God, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, keep us ever mindful of the order of thy saving work. Suffer us not to sever the decree from the means, resting in a false peace while our hearts remain unchanged. Nor suffer us to doubt the decree because our sanctification is imperfect, as though the certainty of our salvation rested upon ourselves. Grant us that true assurance which is the daughter of faith and the mother of joy, and let it bear fruit in lives of grateful obedience, until the day when faith gives way to sight and we behold the face of him who loved us and gave himself for us. In the name of Jesus Christ, the righteous, who ever lives to make intercession for us. Amen.