A. B. Simpson’s Fourfold Gospel:
Both Product and Critique of Late Nineteenth-Century Evangelical Theology
Some may suggest that the theology of The Christian and Missionary Alliance, and therefore its spiritual and pastoral practice, has been built too closely around the idiosyncratic spiritual experience and consequent theology of one particular man. While the theology of the C&MA certainly reflects and resonates with the spiritual experiences and theology of its founder, Albert Benjamin Simpson (1843-1919), he was not the first to have these experiences nor were they unique to him. Instead, his personal xperience of Christ as Saviour, Sanctifier, Healer, and an intense longing for the return of the Coming King was the personal experience of many, if not most, evangelicals in the late-nineteenth century. In fact, the very point of my previous book, The Heart of the Gospel: A. B. Simpson, The Fourfold Gospel, and Late-Nineteenth Century Evangelical Theology is to show that the experiential elements and the accompanying theology of the Fourfold Gospel were not unique to the members of The Christian and Missionary Alliance, even in the late-nineteenth century. Instead, the book demonstrates the indistinctiveness of the Alliance’s supposed theological distinctives. The Fourfold Gospel, rather than belonging solely to The Christian and Missionary Alliance was, instead, the practical experience and commonly-held experience and theology of late nineteenth-century evangelicalism in general.
Rather than being the idiosyncratic theology of A. B. Simpson, the Fourfold Gospel was, to a greater or lesser degree, also the spiritual biography and theology of the leading lights of late nineteenth-century American evangelicalism including such luminaries as Dwight L. Moody, Adoniram Judson Gordon, Arthur Tappan Pierson, and Andrew Murray. Even those who, in contrast, stridently opposed such doctrine, including famed Princeton theologian, Benjamin Breckenridge Warfield, in so doing, granted its existence, its popularity, and its influence.[1]
In spite of the popularity of the Fourfold Gospel, one cannot deny that it was, and continues to be, widely and particularly associated with Simpson. The Alliance’s historic tendency has been, practically, to canonize Simpson, to make him into a man of extraordinary ability and influence in every conceivable area of life. Undoubtedly, he was widely popular and he was deeply influential. Yet, Simpson’s immense popularity, and that of the Fourfold Gospel, cannot be explained solely, or even primarily, by an appeal to Simpson’s talent. Why then, did so many gravitate to him? Why did his message of the Fourfold Gospel meet with such ready approval? Simpson’s popularity, and that of the Fourfold Gospel, is based, at least in part on the fact that, in Simpson, people did not find a theological innovator but a well-spoken and thoughtful figure with whom they could identify. In Simpson, they found a man who put their own spiritual experiences and theological intuitions into words and, consequently, around whom they could congregate and rally. The scope of Simpson’s popularity and influence was based, not on his remarkable abilities, but on the fact that he was speaking of and speaking to what his audience were already experiencing. Not only did he help many people make sense of and articulate their various spiritual experiences, he provided for them, to some degree or another, a theologically unifying framework to do so. That is, Simpson put into words, and then into a theological formulation, something to which they were already predisposed.
The Context of Late Nineteen-Century Evangelical Theology
In practice, what went by the name “evangelicalism” in the late-nineteenth century was little more than a loose affiliation of individuals (and few, if any, denominations) influenced by and focussing on a number of theological emphases. These emphases were already well on the way to being well-established before either Simpson or the C&MA arrived on the scene. These emphases included Revivalism, the Holiness Movement, the Divine Healing Movement, and Premillennialism.
Revivalism
Revivalism provided much of the fuel and zeal for religious life in North America and Great Britain in the nineteenth century. Various revivals, both individually and collectively, had a profound influence upon the whole of society. The revivals of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries were built on the contributions of a number of figures who both developed the theology that undergirded the movement but who, in many cases, were the movement’s leading revivalists. These figures included Englishmen John Wesley (1703–1791) and George Whitefield (1714-1770) and Americans Charles Finney (1795–1875) and Dwight L. Moody (1837-1899).
Among its numerous characteristics, revivalism had as its objective the preaching of the Gospel beyond the confines of the church pulpit, often finding its place in the public square or open fields. The intent of delivering the Gospel in these venues was to reach the previously unchurched or the backslidden. This preaching, rather than appealing primarily or solely to the intellect, sought to appeal to the “religious affections.” That is, it sought not merely to teach its audience; it sought to move them. Consequently, the success of any revival was measured in the number of those who responded personally and, to some measure, publically to the preacher’s invitation. Particularly for post-Finney revivalism, this personal response was not only a barometer of a particular sermon’s or campaign’s success, it was understood to be a divinely-instituted and, therefore, necessary component of the work of salvation. Revivalism’s goal, however, was “regeneration:” the bringing to life of those previously subject to spiritual death.[2] Regeneration is what Jesus was talking about when, in John 3, he said, that “no one can see the kingdom of God unless they are born again. [Italics mine.]” (John 3:3)
Popularly, two problems, each of which carries both theological and practical difficulties, developed in revivalism’s wake. First, rather than understanding regeneration as a necessary component of the larger work of salvation, many equated salvation with regeneration alone. Regeneration, rather than being a foundational and indispensable aspect of the larger work of salvation, was popularly understood as the sum of God’s saving work (at least in the present). The second problem that arose was that, given regeneration’s essential role in salvation, many believed that their salvation rested in the acquisition of something called “regeneration.” That is, they understood salvation to come from regeneration which is be an object, commodity, or product that one could receive from God.
The Holiness Movement
The Nineteenth-Century Holiness Movement, undoubtedly, was founded upon the renewed interest in holiness that found its source in the Methodism of John Wesley (1703-1791). The Holiness Movement in America and its sibling, the Higher Life Movement in the United Kingdom, however, find their immediate genesis in the remarkably successful and influential “Tuesday Meetings for the Promotion of Holiness,” organized and operated in New York City by sisters Sarah Lankford (1806-1896) and Phoebe Palmer (1807-1874). Riding on the popularity of these meetings, Palmer, who, in effect, led the Tuesday Meetings, soon embarked on an itinerant speaking ministry, spreading her brand of “Christian Perfection” on both sides of the Atlantic. Other contributors to the nineteenth-century Holiness Movement included such notables as Charles Finney (1792-1875), Asa Mahan (1799-1889), Thomas Upham (1799-1872), William Boardman (1810-1866), and Hannah Whittal Smith (1832-1911).
Though there would be a variance of theological opinion among its numerous proponents, the Holiness Movement (and the Higher Life Movement), as a whole, emphasized the normative role of sanctification in the Christian life. Instead of believing sanctification to be a soteriological appendix, the Holiness Movement believed that sanctification—the believer’s growth in godliness—to be the normative Christian experience; it asserted that holiness is God’s will for all of his people and not merely for a select few. Furthermore, this group asserted that holiness was not only a possibility this side of heaven but that it was both the secret to and the source of the power that marked the earliest Church. Therefore, the Church’s lack of power, evident at various times throughout its history, was not matter of God’s design. It was, instead, due to the Church’s neglect of its true and foundational calling, to pursue and to engage “scriptural holiness.”
As with revivalism, two problems emerged from the popular engagement of the Holiness Movement. The first was that there developed within many streams of the Holiness Movement a culture of legalism, a situation where people assumed that holiness and its attendant power was the consequent to doing the right things, avoiding the wrong things, and of not “quenching the Spirit.” This resulted in lots of “obedience” but, unfortunately, in little power. Attendant to this lack of power was a rise in exasperation on the part of those who believed that they had been thorough and diligent in their pursuit. The second problem was that, given its vital role in larger work of salvation, many believed that their hope rested in the acquisition of some power or ability called holiness. That is, they their power to come from holiness which they understood to be an object, commodity, or product that one could receive from God.
The Divine Healing Movement
The nineteenth century experienced a large and growing interest in bodily health, both in the secular and religious spheres. This was era of such notable figures as Joseph Lister (1827-1912), Louis Pasteur (1822-1895), John Pemberton (1831-1888), Mary Baker Eddy (1821-1910), and Ellen G. White (1827-1915). While their approaches were distinct, varied in their effectiveness and, at times, were mutually exclusive, their goals was similar: the discovery and application of that which would foster human physical recovery and/or thriving. The Divine Healing Movement was, in part, both a participant in and a critic of this fascination with health and its various manifestations.
The Divine Healing Movement, per se, finds its roots in the small Swiss town of Männedorf, on the north bank of Lake Zurich. Here, Dorothea Trudel, “the Apostle of Healing,” founded her Bibelheim, a retreat center where the sick would come to search the Scriptures and to seek God’s healing touch. From this modest beginning, the theology of divine healing would spread to North America, first through homeopathic physician Charles Cullis (1833-1892) and later through such figures as A. J. Gordon (1836-1895), A. B. Simpson (1843-1919), and John Alexander Dowie (1847-1907).
Those involved in the Divine Healing Movement asserted the essential goodness of the body against a practical and popular pseudo-Gnosticism within the Christian faith that, effectively, viewed the body as little more than a temporarily necessary conveyance for the soul. Consequently, they were convinced that the redemptive and restorative scope of Christ’s atoning work was not limited to the human spirit. The body, too, as a good creation of God, was not only worthy of redemption, physical restoration was, in fact, central to Christ’s redemptive work. That is, the proponents of Divine Healing asserted that the work of Christ on the Cross provided not only for the regeneration of the soul but the physical restoration of the body, even in the present age. By the will and work of Christ, the physical healing of the body in the present age is an integral product of the atonement. The Gospel of Jesus Christ, therefore, is a “whole gospel for the whole person.”
The nineteenth century’s interest in physical restoration and vitality meant that the Divine Healing Movement arrived to an already primed audience. The climate provided lots of options for the beleaguered, many of them, both secular and religious, offering a “one-size-fits-all” cure, whether it be water, grains, antibiotics, prayer, or faith. In turn, the beleaguered provided lots of profit for more than a few less-than-scrupulous charlatans. Consequently there remained, lots of sickness, lots of death, and practically, little more health. People clamored after these various “wonder-cures” hoping that each would, in some way, relieve their disease. Many believed that their hope for physical relief and vitality rested in the discovery and acquisition of a power called healing. That is, they understood this thing that they so earnestly desired to be an object, commodity, or product that one could receive from God.
The Rise of Premillennial Eschatology
Postmillennial eschatology ruled late-eighteenth and early-nineteenth century evangelicalism. Its optimistic outlook regarding the Church’s responsibility and ability to convert the world directly fuelled “the Great Century”[3] of Christian mission. Two events, however, one in Europe and one in North America, definitively shattered postmillennialism’s lock on the eschatological marketplace: the French Revolution and the American Civil War. Each event, in its own way, convinced many Evangelicals that rather than experiencing the continual moral and social progression of the world toward heavenly perfection, the world, instead, was in a state of significant and continuing decay. Rather than getting better and better, the world, was getting worse and worse. Consequently, many Evangelicals felt obliged to discover an alternative interpretation of Scripture and the unfolding of history.
Premillennialism, with its pessimistic assessment concerning both the world’s trajectory and the Church’s responsibility and ability to bring about lasting change, rose steadily, almost meteorically, throughout the latter part of the nineteenth-century. Through a series of Bible and Prophecy Conferences, most notably the Niagara Bible Conference, founded by James H. Brookes (1830-1897), premillennial eschatology gained a steadily growing following. In particular, the newly-minted and fantastic “Dispensationalism” of John Nelson Darby (1800-1882) appealed to those who were becoming convinced that the world was hurtling towards utter decay and the only thing that could stop it (and save them) would be the decisive in-breaking of Jesus Christ.
In theory, Premillennialism’s key theological emphases, whether of the Dispensational brand or not, were the steady moral, social, and religious decline of the world, the relative inability of the Church to stem this tide, and the necessity of the disjunctive and invasive return of the conquering Christ. Popularly, however, the focus of Premillennialism tended to be upon discerning of eschatological signs, the identification of beasts, dragons, and anti-Christs, and the longing for the moment Christ’s secret removal of his saints from the earth—the Rapture—and their immediate transportation to an other-worldly existence. That is, they understood the promise of premillennialism to be an object, commodity, or product that one could receive from God.
Simpson and Late Nineteenth-Century Evangelicalism
Like everyone, A. B. Simpson was a product of his era. He was immersed in, related to, and influenced by the various events and movements of his day. Newsworthy and significant events, including both the sacred and the secular, adorn his sermons, articles, editorials, and books. One can find the mention of such events as the assassination of President McKinley, the first Vatican Council, the Great War, and the inventions that were flowing from the laboratories of Edison and Bell. His relationship to the various theological movements of the day was no different. He was not only aware of the theological trends of his day, he was influenced by many. Simpson’s own doctrines of salvation, sanctification, divine healing, and premillennialism were based, at least in part on the theologies of others. In particular, Simpson’s dependence upon William Boardman in the area of sanctification and the teachers from Männedorf in regard to divine healing seems beyond academic dispute.[4]
Therefore, when one looks for the contribution of A. B. Simpson, it should not be that of thorough-going theological innovation. He did not invent the theological positions that form the key tenets of the Fourfold Gospel. Even in those places where he diverged from the mainstream position on any of these four central aspects, his position was not unique. Others held the same position and, in most cases, held them before Simpson did.[5]
Yet, Simpson’s cooperative nature and his participation in these circles of influence did not mean that he accepted all their assertions and practices uncritically. For example, while a key promoter of the Holiness Movement, he was willing to identify what he thought were the theological and practical short-comings of both what he understood to be the Wesleyan and Keswick perspectives.[6] While a key promoter of the Divine Healing Movement, he was sure to correct the theological and practical short-comings of many of those who were associated with it. This would include the classically heretical teachings of Mary Baker Eddy[7] and The Church of Christ, Scientist and the excesses of proto-Pentecostal John Alexander Dowie.[8] While Simpson’s critiques of these various theological trends may be found in a number of areas, his single greatest contribution to the theology of late nineteenth-century evangelicalism comes in one particular area.
As noted earlier, there was a tendency among the popular interpretations and practices of the four movements delineated above (revivalism, the Holiness Movement, the Divine Healing Movement, and Premillennialism) to commodify and objectify the grace of God. That is, there existed within each of these movements a tendency among its adherents to seek to gain, in some way or another, something from God. In Revivalism, that tendency manifested itself in the desire for regeneration. In the Holiness Movement, the object of desire was power for holy living. For the Divine Healing Movement, it was healing, health, or vitality. For the Premillennialists, the object of longing was the Rapture, the Heavenly Kingdom, or the like. In his construction and teaching of the Fourfold Gospel, Simpson reminded his audience that none of these things (regeneration, sanctification, divine healing, or the blessed events of the eschaton) existed in and of themselves. That is to say, for Simpson regeneration, sanctification, vitality, and the coming age had no independent existence. Instead, each of the blessings that the Evangelicalism of his day was seeking for and in which it was investing itself were nothing other and nothing more than the consequences of the primary blessing, the indwelling of the all-sufficient Christ Himself. For Simpson, not only is Christ our Savior, more basically, Christ is our Salvation. Regeneration is nothing other and nothing more than the vitality of the indwelling and resurrected Christ Himself overflowing to the believer. It is not that Christ brings along with him something called “vitality;” He, Himself, is that vitality. The same hold true for the other aspects of the Fourfold Gospel. None of them exists other than as a consequence of the presence of Christ within the believer.
This point is not merely implied within the construction of the Fourfold Gospel, it is explicit in Simpson’s writings and was from the earliest days of his interdenominational ministry. Most notably, it is found in one of his earliest writings, “Himself.” Here, Simpson asserted that rather than the finding fulfilment from the acquisition of an “it,” (be that regeneration, sanctification, healing, or Heaven) one finds what one needs, instead, in “Him,” in Christ and Christ alone. According to Simpson, it is an idolatrous and, therefore, a rather un-Christian thing to seek regeneration, sanctification, healing, or the millennial kingdom. In a somewhat prophetic tone,—prophetic to the Evangelicalism of which he was part—the Fourfold Gospel proclaims that it is that it is the indwelling Christ Himself, alone, who regenerates, it is the indwelling Christ Himself, alone, who sanctifies; it is the indwelling Christ Himself, alone, who is life, and it is the indwelling Christ, alone, for whom we should long.
Simpson’s contribution, therefore, to the Evangelicalism of his era is his reminder to these various movements is that their proper focus is never to be on commodities that one imagines that one can receive from God. Instead, Simpson seeks to remind late nineteenth-century Evangelicalism that the proper subject of its longing and the sole provision for the Christian life is nothing other and nothing less than Christ Himself. It is Christ Himself, not Christ and regeneration. It is Christ Himself, not Christ and holiness. It is Christ Himself, not Christ and healing. It is Christ Himself, not Christ and a kingdom of shalom. Christ not only delivers the blessings of the atonement, his indwelling is the blessing of the atonement. To use Simpson’s poetic language, Christ, and Christ alone is, at one and the same time, both the Giver and the Gift. While nineteenth-century evangelicalism was sure to remember the first, it was prone to forget the second. For Simpson, the only gift that exists is that of the Giver Himself.
The Fourfold Gospel: An Inadequate Christology?
At a recent meeting of the Society for Pentecostal Studies in the United States, I overheard a noted Pentecostal theologian decry the Fourfold Gospel as an impoverished Christology and call on his colleagues to work with him on developing a more systematic Pentecostal Christology. On the one hand, he was right. The Fourfold Gospel is an inadequate Christology. It’s a terribly inadequate one at that. There are all sorts of ways in which the person of Christ is so much more than just our Saviour, Sanctifier, Healing, (Baptizer in the Holy Spirit,) and Coming King. This theologian’s fundamental error, however, was in his categorization of the Fourfold Gospel as Christology. Such is neither its nature nor its intent. In the construction of the gestalt known as the Fourfold Gospel, the development of a Christology was not in view. Simpson, himself, had a Christology that far out ran the various aspects of the Fourfold Gospel.[9] Rather than a systematic Christology, the Fourfold Gospel is, instead, a contextually-located pastoral soteriology. The Fourfold Gospel does not (nor does it intend to) enumerate and investigate all of the various aspects of Jesus Christ. Instead, the Fourfold Gospel identifies how he is the all-sufficient provision for the complexity of human need.
As a pastoral soteriology the Fourfold Gospel is rooted, as is all pastoral theology, in its particular context and is, at least to a degree, a biblically- and theologically-informed response to that context. In particular, the Fourfold Gospel was Simpson’s response to the religions trends of popular late nineteenth-century evangelicalism, the trends in which evangelicals were investing themselves and from which they were taking spiritual direction. One the one hand, the Fourfold Gospel recognized the relative value of these trends, specifically those of Revivalism, the Holiness Movement, the Divine Healing Movement, and Premillennialism. On the other hand, it also sought to critique and to correct these trends. Fundamentally, the Fourfold Gospel provides a pastoral and theological correction to the tendency of each of these trends to artificially objectify and, consequently, to idolize the consequences of the saving work of Christ.
Even today, rather than focussing on regeneration, sanctification, divine healing, and heaven, per se, the Fourfold Gospel, rightly understood, speaks, of the centrality of Christ to each of these areas and to salvation, in general. It reminds its hearers that the redemption is not grounded in something, even something that may arrive directly from the hand of God. Instead, it declares that salvation, in all of its aspects is the result of the indwelling of Christ Himself. In light of the human tendency to focus on the consequences of salvation, Simpson reminded his audience—and he reminds us—that salvation, in all of its fullness and in all of its aspects, is rooted in Jesus Christ.
However, the Fourfold Gospel also speaks of the sufficiency of Christ in human redemption. It speaks against the idea that redemption comes from Christ plus something else, whether that be something called regeneration, sanctification, healing, or the Rapture. The Fourfold Gospel speaks against the notion that Christ’s role in human redemption is merely and exclusively instrumental; that is, that he saves us by providing something for us or by applying something to us. Instead, Simpson’s theology asserts that it is Christ Himself who is sufficient for the need and the thriving of humanity; Christ is not only the necessary agent in the work of human salvation but he is, also, the content of that salvation. He not only supplies what is needed to effect the change, he is in and of himself that which effects the change. Consequently, rightly understood, while the four aspects have their places, as gestalt, the Fourfold Gospel asserts the sufficiency of Christ’s soteriological role beyond these four, understood compartmentally. The Fourfold Gospel asserts that in relation to human redemption and thriving, Christ’s ability and responsibility extends beyond the ability to regenerate, to sanctify, to heal, and to make all things right. He is not merely the agent of human redemption, he is its content, as well.
The Fourfold Gospel as a Literary and Rhetorical Device
Furthermore, rather than understanding the Fourfold Gospel as a complete and discrete list of those roles that Christ plays in relation to human redemption, it must be understood, instead, as not only a gestalt but, indeed, as a merism. A “merism” is a literary and rhetorical device whereby a single entity is referred to by the enumeration of two or more of its constituent parts. Familiar merisms include “searching high and low,” meaning that one looked everywhere, not merely at the two extremes. Merisms are not alien to the Scriptures. When the author of Genesis noted that “God created the heavens and the earth,” the intended meaning was not that God created only two things. Instead, the intended meaning was that God created everything in existence. As a merism, the Fourfold Gospel does not primarily refer to the enumerated constituent parts, though those are included. On the contrary, the Fourfold Gospel refers primarily not to the four but to the one. In the Fourfold Gospel, the one being referred to is not only Christ but, more particularly, to his sufficiency both to provide and to be the provision for the whole of human need and thriving. Those who critique the Fourfold Gospel as an inadequate Christology not only make the mistake of incorrect theological categorization—confusing systematic Christology with practical soteriology—, they further err by overlooking the presence of literary and rhetorical idiom.
The meristic nature of the Fourfold Gospel operates on two related but distinct planes. Within the Fourfold Gospel, there exists two pairings, easily identified by observing the current logo of The Christian and Missionary Alliance. First, there is the couplet of “Christ, our Savior” and “Christ, our Coming King.” Second, we have the pairing of “Christ, our Sanctifier” and “Christ, our Healer.” The meristic operation of the second pairing refers to the sufficiency of Christ Himself for the breadth of human need. In asserting that Christ is the Sanctifier, the Fourfold Gospel asserts that Christ Himself is the all-sufficient provision for the whole of the “inner man,” the spiritual self. In asserting that Christ is the Healer, the Fourfold Gospel proclaims that Christ Himself is the all-sufficient provision for the needs of the “outer man,” the physical man. Together, as a merism, these two aspects assert that Christ is the all-sufficient source and supply, not merely for body and soul as discrete entities, but for the entirety of the human constitution. That is, in his redeeming work, Christ addresses the fullness of human being and not, merely, two distinct parts. Not only is Christ sufficient for some human needs, he is, indeed, sufficient to provide for all human needs, spiritual and physical alike.
The first couplet, understood meristically, refers to the time-span during which Christ is the all-sufficient supply of human need. In asserting that Christ is our Savior, the Fourfold Gospel suggests the sufficiency of the ministry of Christ to restore someone to spiritual life and, therefore, relation with Him, providing him with the first-fruits of redemption. In asserting that Christ is the Coming King, the Fourfold Gospel asserts that Christ is one who is sufficient to provide for the Christian the fullness of the blessings of the heavenly existence.
While the four aspects assert more in their detailed treatments of their various aspects, as a merism, the Fourfold Gospel is an affirmation of the all-sufficiency of Christ in relation to human redemption and thriving.
[1] Warfield’s direct confrontation with the tenets of the Fourfold Gospel is evident throughout his writing but is seen most clearly in two books. In Perfectionism, Warfield critiques, among others, the “Higher Life” and the “Victorious Life” movements. He singles out Simpson, by name, for criticism as part of the latter group. B. B. Warfield, Perfectionism, Volume II. (New York: Oxford University Press, 1932; reprint, Grand Rapids: Baker Book House, 1981), 597-600. In Counterfeit Miracles, Warfield challenges the orthodoxy of the “Faith-Healing” school. In particular, he criticizes the position of A. J. Gordon. Even here, Simpson is singled out. Benjamin B. Warfield, Counterfeit Miracles (N.p.: 1918; reprint, Carlisle, PA: Banner of Truth Trust, 1976), 195.
[2] This is clearly seen in Moody’s famous “3 R’s:” Humanity as Ruined, Redeemed, and Regenerated.” For***
[3] Ken Latourette, The Great Century, A. D. 1800-1914 in Europe and the United States of America. A History of the Expansion of the Christianity. New York: 1941.
[4] On more than one occasion, Simpson arranged for Otto Stockmayer of Männedorf to speak both to the C&MA and to the students of the Missionary Training Institute.
[5] For example, even Simpson’s seeming novel doctrine of a partial-rapture of the Church is neither original nor exclusive to him. Robert Govett (1813-1901) expounded such in his magnus opus, The Apocalypse, which was written from 1861-1865. Cf. Bernie A. Van De Walle, The Heart of the Gospel: A. B. Simpson, the Fourfold Gospel, and Late Nineteenth-Century Evangelicalism. (Eugene, OR: Pickwick, 2009), 188-189.
[6] At one point, Simpson wrote, “A correspondent recently inquired regarding the standpoint of Alliance teaching with respect to sanctification whether we held the Wesleyan view, or what is commonly known as Keswick teaching. We believe that the Alliance teaching on the subject is neither Wesleyan nor, strictly speaking, an echo of even the excellent teaching given at the meetings annually held at Keswick. While speaking in greatest appreciation of other teachers and of all who endeavor to hold up the true Scriptural standard of life, yet we believe that the point of view from which the subject of personal holiness is regarded by the teachers and workers in the Christian Alliance is what we might term the “Christ Life,” rather than even the sanctified life. There is always a little danger of seeing our experience more than the source of that experience, the Person and work of the Lord Jesus, we have ever been led to rise above all our experiences and recognize our new and resurrection life wholly in Him. At the same time we believe and teach that this will lead to the very highest kind of Christian life; higher than our best experiences, higher than Adamic perfection, for it is the life of Jesus, the second Adam, the Son of God, “manifested in our mortal flesh.” “Christ-Centered,” Christian and Missionary Alliance, 23:1, (June 3, 1899), 8.
[7] E. g. “Christian Science, Falsely So-Called,” The Christian Alliance, 1:5 (May 1888), 70-73.
[8] It should be noted that early on, Simpson looked forward to Dowie’s ministry in America. Later, however, his anticipation would turn to dismissal. “Editorial Notes,” The Christian Alliance, 1:2 (February 1888), 32. “Hindrances to Divine Healing,” The Christian and Missionary Alliance, 26:2 (July 14, 1906), 428.
[9] In The Names of Jesus, Simpson devotes entire chapters to such themes as Christ, our Head, Christ, Our Passover, Christ, Our Prophet, Christ, Our Living Vine, Christ, the Key of David, Christ, Our Baptizer, etc. Even those listed within this text as not exhaustive of Simpson’s Christology as similar recognitions appear throughout his writings. A. B. Simpson, The Names of Jesus, (New York: Christian Alliance, 1892).
