Because this doctrine plays such a foundational role in the apostle Paul’s theology, we need to look carefully at what we mean by faith and belief, and at the kind of mental state these words describe. I will begin by examining how these words are used in modern English. Before we can understand their Hebrew and Greek counterparts, we must first understand what goes on in our own minds when we use them. The best way to do that is to reflect on our everyday thinking as expressed in our native language. Once we have done this, we can then compare our usage with that found in the biblical languages.
At once we notice something important. In English, we have two families of words — believe, belief, and faith, faithful — where Hebrew and Greek each have only one. This difference in form has often caused confusion. Because belief and faith look so different in English, we are tempted to assume they describe different things. But in the biblical languages, no such distinction exists. To believe is simply to have faith, and to have faith is to believe.
Belief as Mental Rest
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Belief also comes in degrees. Sometimes the mind is not in complete rest, but only partial rest. This kind of qualified belief is so common that, when we want to express full conviction, we often add emphasis: I believe it with all my heart, or something similar.
The word believe describes only a subjective state of mind. It says nothing about whether what we believe is actually true, or whether the reasons for believing it are strong or weak. In this respect, belief differs from knowledge. Whenever someone is sure of something, we say they believe it. We say they know it only when we assume their belief is correct. All knowledge, then, is belief — but belief becomes knowledge only when it matches reality.
A person’s mind may be completely settled about one idea and deeply unsettled about others. In fact, rest in one belief can create turmoil elsewhere. A person may be forced by overwhelming evidence to believe that a terrible disaster has occurred. In that belief, the mind is settled — the idea is fixed. Yet the emotional result may be despair and dread. As Scripture says, “Even the demons believe — and shudder.”
Belief in Ideas and Belief in Persons
What we believe — the idea in which our mind rests — can be called the object-matter of belief. Often, however, belief also has a personal object. In such cases we do not merely believe something; we believe someone. This means that our confidence rests on the word of a speaker. The speaker is the personal object of belief; what they say is the object-matter.
This raises an important question: when and why do a speaker’s words produce belief in those who hear them? The answer is simple. We accept someone’s words as true because their character is at stake. Either the speaker is untruthful, or what they say is true — or will turn out to be true. We weigh these possibilities, and depending on which seems more likely, we believe, doubt, or disbelieve.
The character traits required to inspire belief vary with the kind of statement being made. If someone is testifying about the past — especially about something they claim to have witnessed — we need confidence in their intelligence and honesty. The more unlikely the claim, the stronger this confidence must be.
But promises are different. When someone promises to do something in the future, intelligence and honesty alone are not enough. We also need assurance that the person is capable of doing what they promise and is unlikely to change their mind. To rest fully in such a promise, we must trust the speaker’s intelligence, truthfulness, ability, and consistency. When these qualities are present, we can look ahead with confidence. In such cases we believe the person because their words settle our minds, and we trust them because we stake our interests on their character.
Trust and Belief
Trust differs from belief in one important way. Trust does not always involve accepting a specific statement as true. But it always involves a conscious reliance — often with real interests at stake — on something or someone outside ourselves. By contrast, we can believe something that has little or no impact on our lives. But when a promise matters to us personally, accepting it involves both belief and trust.
Whenever we believe a person — especially when we believe a promise — three elements are involved:
- Judgment: We assess the speaker’s character. This is mainly an intellectual process, in which we decide whether the foundation for trust is reliable.
- Commitment: The whole person, with all that is at stake, accepts and rests on this judgment. This is the heart of faith or belief.
- Expectation: We then look ahead, anticipating the fulfillment of what has been promised. In this sense, faith becomes a way of seeing what is not yet visible.
These elements are always present in belief, though in varying degrees. Sometimes we focus mostly on evaluating the speaker. At other times, when the speaker’s reliability is beyond question, our thoughts dwell instead on the promise itself and what it will bring. But all three aspects are always there.
The Effects of Belief
The effects of belief depend partly on how strongly we believe and partly on what we believe. By believing, we place ourselves under the influence of the belief’s content, just as opening our eyes places us under the influence of what we see.
We may read a report in the newspaper and accept it as true. Often our confidence is thoughtful and complete, yet the belief has little effect on us because it matters very little. In other cases, belief formed in exactly the same way fills us with joy or sorrow and reshapes our future. The difference lies not in the mental act of believing, but in the importance of what is believed.
To sum up our investigation of this idea: in modern life, belief is mental rest in an idea. When belief has a personal object, this rest comes from reliance on the speaker’s word and character. Belief is a voluntary surrender of the whole person to be influenced by what one’s intelligence — rightly or wrongly — accepts as true. Its practical effects depend both on how fully we surrender and on the nature of the belief itself.
Faith in the Hebrew Scriptures
In the Old Testament, believe translates a single Hebrew word whose basic meaning is closely aligned with our own. In its simplest form it means to support or carry, like a nurse carrying a child. Other forms mean to be supported and made firm, or to treat something as firm — to lean on it securely. Almost always the word refers to belief in a person, usually involving specific words that are accepted or rejected.
Scripture provides many examples. Jacob did not believe his sons when they told him Joseph was alive. Moses feared the people would not believe him or listen to his words. God gave signs so that the people might believe that He had appeared to Moses. Sometimes belief involves no explicit statement, but still reflects settled confidence about someone’s intentions or future actions.
Throughout the Old Testament, this Hebrew word means essentially what believe means in English. Two closely related constructions express belief in a person: one emphasizes giving credence, the other emphasizes placing trust. The latter is used especially when belief clearly involves reliance. Thus, after receiving a great promise, we read that Abraham “believed in the LORD.”
Closely related is the Old Testament idea of trust, especially trust in God. Unlike belief, trust does not necessarily focus on a specific promise or statement. It simply expresses reliance on someone other than oneself.
Greek Usage and the New Testament
Sometimes a specific statement is believed. At other times both the personal object and the content appear together: “I believe God that it will be so.” Because God and Christ are the well-known personal objects of saving faith, the New Testament sometimes names them explicitly and sometimes assumes them.
Usually, faith refers to the state of mind of the believer. In a few passages, however, it clearly means faithfulness. Greek grammar distinguishes carefully between belief in a person (emphasizing trust) and belief of a message. English translations often blur this distinction, though it is important for interpretation.
Paul never suggests that he is using faith or belief in any unusual sense. The same words describe confidence in both God and human beings. The mental act is the same; what differs is the object. God’s words carry infinitely greater authority than any human words, and so the confidence they inspire is deeper and more transformative. English reflects this difference by reserving the word faith largely for religious belief, but the underlying mental process remains the same.
Faith and Justification
Abraham believed God’s promise—“So shall your offspring be”—and that belief was counted to him as righteousness. His faith was simple trust that God’s word would come true. His mind found rest, even though the promise contradicted ordinary experience, because he trusted the power and faithfulness of the One who spoke.
Paul describes Abraham as fully persuaded that God was able to do what He had promised. Abraham’s faith was not irrational. It was more reasonable to expect God to override natural limitations than to break His word. Faith, properly understood, is not opposed to reason; it is reason responding rightly to the facts.
Christian faith works the same way. The good news announced by Christ is the object-matter of justifying faith. God speaking through Christ is its personal object. Because this promise concerns what only God can give — eternal life — faith becomes a wholehearted reliance on God’s character and word.
When we believe this good news, we personally trust that God now accepts us and gives us life. The abstract doctrine becomes a present reality. Justifying faith, as Paul understood it, is an assurance —resting on God’s word and promise — that God now receives into His favor as heirs of eternal life those who believe the gospel.
This faith is only the beginning. It grows into the deeper, abiding trust that unites us with Christ and sustains all the blessings of the new covenant.
Such, then, is Paul’s doctrine of justification through faith. It stands at the heart of Romans, dominates Galatians, and shapes all his letters. It silenced his own guilty conscience, grounded his hope, and energized a life devoted to the highest good of humanity.
Paul received this gospel not from human teachers, but directly from Christ. The next question, then, is whether Paul understood Christ correctly. That inquiry must follow. Given Paul’s intellectual depth, moral seriousness, and unwavering confidence, his teaching deserves our most careful attention. To this topic, we will turn next.
This post is based upon Lecture XII from J. A. Beet's book Through Christ to God: A Study in Scientific Theology (1893), re-written with the assistance of Microslop CoPilot. The original text may be found at the Internet Archive here: Through Christ to God.
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