"Now an infinite happiness cannot be purchased by any price less than that which is infinite in value; and infinity of merit can only result from a nature that is infinitely divine or perfect"
About this Quote
Clarke is doing something shrewdly transactional with the language of the soul: he turns salvation into a problem of price, value, and purchasing power, then insists the math only closes at infinity. The line reads like a tidy syllogism, but its real work is polemical. It shuts down any “good enough” Christianity - any scheme where human effort, moral improvement, or finite virtue can bridge the gap to “infinite happiness.” If the desired end is limitless beatitude, Clarke argues, the payment can’t be partial, symbolic, or merely exemplary. The currency must match the scale of the outcome.
That framing betrays his context: early 19th-century Protestant theology, steeped in debates over atonement and the status of Christ. Clarke, a major Methodist commentator, is defending a high Christology with the cool confidence of arithmetic. He’s not primarily trying to sound mystical; he’s trying to make alternatives look irrational. If “infinity of merit” requires an “infinitely divine or perfect” nature, then a merely human redeemer, or a Christ who is less than fully divine, can’t deliver the goods. The subtext is less devotional than argumentative: to accept finite merit is to accept a finite heaven, or else to claim God runs the universe on a discount.
It’s also a rhetorical move that flatters modern instincts about fairness. Clarke implies God’s economy isn’t arbitrary; it has proportionality. That makes the doctrine feel less like imposed dogma and more like the only coherent exchange rate between creature and Creator.
That framing betrays his context: early 19th-century Protestant theology, steeped in debates over atonement and the status of Christ. Clarke, a major Methodist commentator, is defending a high Christology with the cool confidence of arithmetic. He’s not primarily trying to sound mystical; he’s trying to make alternatives look irrational. If “infinity of merit” requires an “infinitely divine or perfect” nature, then a merely human redeemer, or a Christ who is less than fully divine, can’t deliver the goods. The subtext is less devotional than argumentative: to accept finite merit is to accept a finite heaven, or else to claim God runs the universe on a discount.
It’s also a rhetorical move that flatters modern instincts about fairness. Clarke implies God’s economy isn’t arbitrary; it has proportionality. That makes the doctrine feel less like imposed dogma and more like the only coherent exchange rate between creature and Creator.
Quote Details
| Topic | God |
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