"Grace is but glory begun, and glory is but grace perfected"
About this Quote
Edwards compresses an entire Puritan universe into a neat piece of theological chemistry: grace in the present tense, glory in the future tense, same substance, different stage. The line works because it turns the messy, anxious business of salvation into a continuum. No hard jump from “fallen” to “saved,” no sentimental conversion montage. Just a process already underway, invisible but real, with eternity as the logical finishing coat.
The intent is pastoral and polemical at once. Pastoral, because it reassures believers that the flickers of spiritual desire, discipline, or conviction they can actually perceive are not merely signs but beginnings of heaven’s quality in them. Polemical, because it undercuts any notion that glory is earned by human performance. If glory is “grace perfected,” then the end cannot be credited to the self any more than the beginning can. The grammar quietly enforces dependence: grace does the initiating; glory only completes what grace started.
The subtext carries Edwards’ signature rigor. In an 18th-century New England shaped by revivals and their backlash, people were obsessed with distinguishing authentic transformation from mere enthusiasm. This sentence offers a test without sounding like a test: if your faith has real grace, it will have trajectory. The promise is not “you will get rewarded,” but “you will be finished.” Glory becomes less a prize than a completed renovation, and grace stops being a pardon alone; it’s the seed of a new nature. That’s why the line lands: it makes the afterlife feel less like escape and more like continuity with moral consequence.
The intent is pastoral and polemical at once. Pastoral, because it reassures believers that the flickers of spiritual desire, discipline, or conviction they can actually perceive are not merely signs but beginnings of heaven’s quality in them. Polemical, because it undercuts any notion that glory is earned by human performance. If glory is “grace perfected,” then the end cannot be credited to the self any more than the beginning can. The grammar quietly enforces dependence: grace does the initiating; glory only completes what grace started.
The subtext carries Edwards’ signature rigor. In an 18th-century New England shaped by revivals and their backlash, people were obsessed with distinguishing authentic transformation from mere enthusiasm. This sentence offers a test without sounding like a test: if your faith has real grace, it will have trajectory. The promise is not “you will get rewarded,” but “you will be finished.” Glory becomes less a prize than a completed renovation, and grace stops being a pardon alone; it’s the seed of a new nature. That’s why the line lands: it makes the afterlife feel less like escape and more like continuity with moral consequence.
Quote Details
| Topic | Faith |
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