06.01. The Importance of Terminology

The Terminology of Holiness By J. B. Chapman

Chapter 1 The Importance of Terminology In science, art, business, philosophy, and other fields of human interest where the holding and the communication of clear ideas are essential, terminology is of high importance. Mathematics has been described as the only exact science. But when it is remembered that mathematics treats of the relationship of qualities, and not of qualities themselves, this boast of exactitude loses somewhat of its practical meaning. Furthermore, mathematics, being altogether theoretical, assumes no responsibility for reality, and hence escapes the tests that other branches of knowledge must meet. But the progress of mathematics has been made possible by the adoption of symbols, usually just numbers, which are universally defined and are invariable in meaning. In sciences, other than mathematics it is necessary to make a beginning by suggesting that certain symbols or words shall bear certain meanings. Once accepted, such symbols or words take on the same significance as numbers in mathematics, so far as this is possible. But the fact that such symbols are used in defining quantities rather than just defining the relation of quantities, makes their invariable meaning difficult to maintain. With the passing of time and the advancement of knowledge, it sometimes becomes necessary to qualify or limit the meaning originally assigned; for qualities are whatever they are, and when change is required, it is the symbol, not the quantity, that must change.

Philology and etymology are useful-indispensable, in fact-in the study of terminology, but they are neither sufficient nor altogether dependable. The fact is that with the passing of time a term sometimes not only gets away from its historic basis, but in some instances reverses its meaning entirely. After all, all substantives take on somewhat the nature of proper names and numbers. It has been remarked that proper names are established by usage, and that a man’s name is whatever he and his intimates say it is. But this is true in a large measure with substantives in general. That is, a term means whatever usage has made it mean, even though that meaning may be different from (or even the reverse of) the etymological meaning. In this study we are to be concerned with terms of a somewhat limited class, and in illustrating our approach we make a kindred idea serve as an example. Take the idea of cleanliness: we think we know what this idea is, but we should not overlook the fact that the idea as we hold it required many centuries of repetition to make it clear. There is, perhaps, no section of the Bible that impresses the casual reader as being so monotonous and impractical as that section which deals with the ceremonies and the domestic lives of the ancient Hebrews. There are laws relating to clean and unclean animals; laws relating to leprosy and other physical ailments; laws relating to camp sanitation, and to the initiation of priests. Many of these seem trivial now, but they are part of the long process by which God ground into the thinking of men the meaning of being clean in body, clean in mind, and, above all, clean in heart. The idea of being clean had no such connotation as we now unconsciously attach to it until that idea was illustrated and enforced, under divine authority, and until it had time to penetrate and take effect.

If we ask now what it means to be clean, we have no difficulty in thinking, even though we may find it difficult to express the idea in accurate words. And thus it is possible for us, being heirs of all the past, to know the difference between the good and the evil, and between the clean and the unclean.

It is evident, therefore, that in the study of terminology, one must consider all branches of linguistic science, including philology, etymology, grammar, rhetoric, phonology, morphology, semantics, and textual criticism in their full historic scope. Then, after this, he must take cognizance of the current connotation of the term; for, in the end, the term means what it meant in its root form, what it meant to those who handled it during its growth (and during its decay, if it is decadent), and what it has come to mean by common consent. One of these or a combination of some or all of these or some variant of one or more of these is what the terms means now.

There are those who say, "We need a new terminology. Our old terminology is unadapted to the present age, and its use brings unnecessary misunderstanding and opposition." Or they say that the old terminology is inadequate to the new era. But the only way a term can become unacceptable is for it to cease to bear the meaning it once bore or else to be wanting in euphony -that is, be difficult to pronounce or of unfamiliar sound. But I think as regards the terminology of Bible holiness neither of these legitimate objections holds.

Take the word sanctification, for example. That is a euphonious word; it is of unquestioned pedigree; it expresses a very definite idea; and yet it is not a popular word. The objection, therefore, is not legitimate, for the objection is to the import of the word. Men don’t like the word because they don’t like the idea it bears. Take the word eradication. That is a good word, easy to pronounce, of honorable extraction, and of definite signification. It is unpopular because of what it means, and those who would substitute some other word would escape persecution only until their new word attained a force corresponding to the force this one has already attained, and then they would be right back where they started. Likewise, if the time ever comes when terms like "the victorious life," "a higher state of grace," and such like terms mean exactly the same thing as being sanctified wholly by the baptism with the Holy Ghost and fire, these gentler terms will be listed as harsh, and there will again be call for a new vocabulary.

It is the idea conveyed that makes or breaks a word on the markets of men. And I think it will usually be noted that the call for a new terminology is a call for less definition, rather than for more definition; for new words cannot possibly be as clear and as rich as those which have been aged by the usage of the generations. Old words are better than new, for the reason that they are better understood, whereas the symbolism of the new words requires much time for maturing and for enrichment. The real question is, Do we want to be understood? There are those who seem to think truth may be effective without being understood. They seem to think it is enough that the speaker or writer shall know what he himself means, whether his hearers and readers know or not. Such persons are willing to occupy themselves uttering pleasant sounds and recording smooth words, and hold to the hope that hearers and readers will possess what is meant by the symbols, even without themselves being aware of what it is they desire and finally possess. But if light is truth apprehended, then terminology that is intelligible, even though it be offensive because it is clear, is the terminology we want. It is better to be understood and disliked than to be misunderstood and admired; for truth that is oil to heal must first be a hammer to break. But heretics not only coin new words; they also seek to alter the meaning of old words. And many of the arguments which divide the people of God into sects and factions would be avoided if more attention were given to terminology, and if men used their words discriminatingly. Take the question of sin, for example. One man argues that it is impossible for one to live in this world without committing sin. The other answers, "He that committeth sin is of the devil." But it may turn out that the first man insistently holds that any deviation from the perfect law of God, whether the variation is conscious or unconscious, is sin. He therefore logically contends that one would be required to be perfect in knowledge, that he might fully comprehend the will of God, in order that he might live without sin. The other holds (and, of course, I believe correctly) that sin to be sin must be knowing and conscious; that the measure of light is the measure of responsibility, and that he who is perfect in love, and who wills always to do the Father’s will, is without sin and pleasing in His sight. Now before the argument can be fair and helpful, it will be necessary for these two men to define their words and to use their terms with the same meaning. This does not mean that definition will dissolve all arguments, but it will make the ground for disagreement intelligible, and will confine debate to actual differences.

However, our motive here is not so much to prepare for the assuaging of argument as to get ready to set forth our own message in words that are understood. It is our confidence that our message is better liked and more acceptable, the better it is understood. It is when our thesis is hazy that it is wanting in appeal. And we believe that our wonderful message of full salvation is worthy of the clearest possible statement. It is not our idea to suggest new meanings, but rather to set forth, as nearly as possible, what the terminology of Bible holiness meant to those of the past and to us of today. John Wesley was accused of preaching something new. But his answer was that he was a discoverer, rather than an inventor, and that his work was to dig up the apostolic doctrines, rid them of the incrustations that their neglect had occasioned, and then to present them clearly and unequivocally, as did the first preachers of the era. To his own preachers, Wesley advised plain preaching, saying that under plain preaching some will be offended and some benefited. But under equivocal preaching, while few are offended, few are benefited. It is in the acceptance of such a thesis that we would use plain words plainly, and make men hear in language that both we and they can understand.

We would not, however, suggest that the only difference is a difference of terminology; for the thing we seek to tell is far greater than the words by which we seek to tell it, and there are those who oppose what we say, even though they understand the terms we employ in saying it. The message of salvation to the uttermost is a message of fact and reality, and those only who know the reality have full need of the vocabulary for its expression. John Wesley in his own day observed that there were some preachers in the Methodist societies who did not preach perfect love -- some, he had heard, did not even believe in the doctrine. He warned that such as these should not be permitted to occupy the pulpit. He even questioned that they should be allowed to remain in the society. These early Methodists were committed to the task of spreading scriptural holiness, and Wesley was wise enough to know that men cannot be trusted to preach to others that which they do not believe and know themselves. The pulpit does not remain silent on any theme very long until the pew ceases to believe that that theme is true and important. For this reason it is necessary that even the most familiar truths shall be iterated and reiterated. And it is remarkable that the faithful do not weary of the "old, old story." Doubt feeds on silence, and doubt soon festers to become opposition. We must disabuse our minds of the idea that people are informed, and therefore do not care for that which is familiar. But important as terminology is, we must not forget that a description of the road is still not the road itself, and that ability to give intelligent directions does not constitute proof that one has actually traveled the road himself. And, what is more, the fact that one has once traveled a road does not constitute proof that he is still on that road-he may have left the road before the final goal is reached. One may be sound in doctrine and abundant in good works, and yet be of that company who have left their first love.

There is no purely intellectual road by which one may find God in truth apart from the heart’s affections, and there is nothing that is deader than dead orthodoxy, except, perhaps, dead heterodoxy. Just as clear thinking is the absolute prerequisite of clear expression, so likewise definite experience is the indispensable mainspring in the demand for definite terminology. Therefore it is the existence of a scriptural and experiential grace in holiness that gives rise to our interest in a holiness terminology that is unequivocal and full. And along with our former question, Do we want to be understood? we now ask, for emphasis only, and not as a symbol of any doubt, Do we have a distinctive message of holiness that demands a distinctive and well-defined vocabulary?

Turning again to the thought of the origin, growth, and use of words, we suggest the most significant of all words as an example. Take our word God: this is our symbol for the Deity or Supreme Being, and by its use we present all the divine predictables and attributes. But originally, in the language of our northern European fathers, this word was used in describing quality, and was frequently spelled with a double o. It was applied to the Deity at first only when it was desired to point to His benevolent attributes. But in time it became a proper name, and now we must say, "I believe in a God of infinite wisdom, power, and love"; for the name itself does not convey the partial description of the Supreme Being that it once did. And now when Mary Baker Eddy wants to use this word in an accommodated sense, she must needs work it over so completely that nothing remains of the word but the sound, and she would have done better and been more honest with the general public if she had taken a new word altogether for her specialized purpose. But from times immemorial it has been the habit of error to steal truth’s clothing; for just as the wolf can better catch his prey when garbed in the garments of the sheep, so likewise error has found that the vocabulary of truth has carrying power that is of tremendous propaganda value. Our interest in the terminology of Bible holiness is twofold. In the first place, we want to know what terms men of the past used in expressing the truths they held and propagated. We want to know these words both for the assurance such knowledge will give us that their users did indeed hold the views we have heard they held, and then we want to know them that we may include them in our own list of words for the sake of variety and fullness. In the second place, we are interested in terminology for practical purposes, for we want to tell others of the treasure we have found in language that is both accurate and adequate. This practical interest suggests that we shall do well to major on perspicuity rather than on plentitude. We shall do well, both personally and as a people, to use a few terms until they are well-known and clearly understood, and then keep on using them because they are well-known and clearly understood. Distinctions that are not based on real differences are not only wearisome, but misleading as well. An old book on homiletics, that dignified itself with the title Sacred Rhetoric, gave the example of a novice who referred to Moses as "the peerless son of Amram," more to the muddling than to the enlightening of his hearers.

Language, to serve its full purpose, must be clearly understood by both speaker and hearer or writer and reader. Serious speakers strive earnestly to master the tongue of their hearers, and are never content until this end is gained. One well-known preacher said that if he planned to use a word and then discovered that twenty people in his audience did not understand that word, he would cross it out. But it is not enough for the Christian teacher to use the words his people already know. It is also his duty to give content to words in order that he may use them to convey his message. The Christian teacher is like the traveler who must build roads, as well as travel roads that already exist, for the language of secular and worldly life is but partially adapted to the purpose of bearing the full message of the gospel.

We find, then, that we must not only learn what terms mean to others; we must also be clear that they have definite meaning to us. And if some would entrap us by defining our words for us, we must not give way to the pressure. The ideas are ours, and it is ours to find terms for their expression. If existing words do not convey the idea, then we must burden words with the content we have in mind, and then make these words mean this to others. A little while ago I sat in a Methodist church on a Sunday morning, and was not a little surprised when the minister announced that his subject was "Sanctification." I was fairly dazed by his introduction, for in it he said that the Methodist movement was raised up under the leadership of John Wesley for the express purpose of preaching sanctification. Wesley and his coadjutors, the preacher said, were faithful to the task. But in time the Methodists largely lost interest in the subject, and many ministers neglected to preach it, although there were always some who did believe in it and seek to propagate it. The neglect of the Methodists, the preacher said, made way for what was known as the holiness movement.

I found myself wondering if I had found here one who had been faithful to the mission of primitive Methodism. But when the formal introduction was finished, the minister proposed the question, "What is sanctification?" Answering this question, he said, "Sanctification is just consecration, nothing less, nothing more. It means full devotion to God. Surely no Christian would want to be less than this, and it is sure none can be anything more." The whole proposition was a fiasco, for the preacher assured his listeners that, whatever sanctification is, they as Christians have it, and there is nothing to worry about. Instinctively one could feel that the net result was that even the concerned were lulled to sleep, and that far from promoting the search for holiness, the preacher had destroyed the central idea by his faint praise. He had used the vocabulary of holiness, but had attached his own meaning to the terminology, and had effectively opposed the progress of the work. Heresy had been promoted by the use of the language of orthodoxy. This instance may serve to indicate the work required of us in establishing and defending the import of words. For while there is nothing new in the attempt to identify sanctification and consecration, to allow this claim to go unchallenged is to yield the whole point. For while the word sanctification does sometimes mean consecration, it also sometimes means purification, whereas consecration is seldom, if ever, used with anything more than a legal or ceremonial idea of purification attached. Generally speaking, consecration is human sanctification, while divine sanctification is purification. And now, at this late date, any who would ignore the work of generations in making this distinction clear, and go back again to confuse the meaning of the two words, is rendering a distinct disservice. It caters to those who are concerned to explain away the blessed divine grace and leave sanctification to stand as merely a human affair. In the days when France was seeking to rid herself of God and at the same time establish free civil government, old Richelieu said, "If there were not a God, it would be necessary to make one before we can establish a free and dependable government." His idea was that men who do not fear God will not honor the oath, hence will not keep their promises to one another. Our situation is like that in reverse. We have the grace of holiness, and now require a vocabulary for the setting forth of the doctrine and testimony of holiness. It is therefore our hope that we may both serve ourselves and others by emphasizing and reemphasizing our term for better understanding. And having agreed that a term has a certain connotation, we ourselves must thereafter use that term discriminatingly. This practice is essential to both our integrity and our clarity. We should know what our terms mean, and then should use them unequivocally. Our principal apology for this presentation is this: We have obtained an experience from God which we believe it proper to label Bible holiness. We desire to communicate the good news of our discovery to men everywhere, so far as it is possible for us to do so. To make this communication, we have been given by our fathers certain terminology of well-defined meaning. For the most part, we have found this terminology well adapted to our purpose, and this presentation is our effort to help establish this terminology and to publish it as widely as we may. We do this in the hope that our effort may be useful in bringing to the attention of some hearers certain symbols by the use of which the blessed news of salvation to the uttermost may be made known, and that God’s people may be encouraged to press on into the possession of that holiness "without which no man shall see the Lord." Our approach is not that of one who has a set of words for which he seeks corresponding realities. Ours is the approach of one who, knowing the realities, seeks words for use in describing them. For this reason, therefore, we would not exalt any word to the place of a "shibboleth." We fully admit that many have obtained a fuller grace than their vocabulary would cause us to think, and we rejoice that experience is transcendent over doctrine. Men, like Charles

G. Finney, who evidently possessed the full grace of Bible holiness but were never very successful teachers of the doctrine are more fortunate -- a million times -- than those who have made the doctrine a fetish but have not obtained, or having obtained have not continued to hold, the grace and blessing the doctrine is given to describe. But far from holding that the alternates lie between possessing the experience and not the doctrine or holding the doctrine and not the experience, we believe that the good way is both to possess the experience and to know the doctrine. For to possess the blessing and to know the doctrine is to be personally favored and also to be in position to help others.

Forgetting the clamor of words for the moment, let each one ask himself, What is my deep and real heart’s estate? Is there yet something in me that makes me unhappy in the Saviour’s company? Do I truly enjoy a sense of "a heart from sin set free, a heart that always feels Thy blood, so freely shed for me"? And in further preparation for the studies ahead, what do the words I use in describing Christian experience really mean to me? What do they mean to those who hear me testify and speak? Do I really want to be understood, or do I prefer to edify myself by speaking in language that is really unknown to those who hear me? Do I prefer to speak in riddles, lest I suffer persecution for the cross of Christ and for the fact that I would be, if understood, classified as an extremist? What is the motive that determines my choice of terms? Is it the genuine desire to be understood or is it the lame wish that I may save my own soul, and profit others without offending any? Proper answer to these questions will put us a long way up the road to both interest and profit in the succeeding chapters.