Desire and Affections

Such is man's nature, that he is very inactive and lazy  unless he is influenced by some affection, either love or hatred, desire, hope, fear, or some other. These affections we see to be the springs that set men agoing, in all the affairs of life, and engage them in all their pursuits: these are the things that put men forward, and carry them along… --Jonathan Edwards

Under the impulse of desire, man feels himself urged onward in some path or pursuit of activity for its gratification. The faculties of his mind are put into busy exercise. In the steady direction of one great and engrossing interest, his attention is recalled from the many preoccupations into which he might otherwise have wandered… --Thomas Chalmers

O God, you are my God, earnestly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you, my body longs for you, in a dry and weary land where there is no water.  (Psalm 63:1)

The chief end of man is to know God and enjoy him forever—Westminster Catechism

 Words such as “desire,” “longing,” and “enjoyment,” seem to conjure up images of passionate romantic love between a man and a woman. Yet they are all trying to describe the  deeply personal and intimate union we can have with God. It is interesting what passes for “close and personal” in our relationship with God, in comparison to our relationships with other people.  In human relationships that we would call “personal,” it is typical that we experience various levels of affection and emotion.  We develop a longing to be together and to share our excitements and passions as well as our let-downs.  It is common, however,  for this personal,  affectionate dimension to be completely absent from our relationship with God. This suggests that our relationship with him is more formal than personal. Yet, human relationships without some level of affection and emotional expression  usually cease to exist. They certainly could not be called “personal” or “close.”  Spouses who lack this dimension know the agony and are vulnerable to adultery. 

Somehow, though, this impersonal state of affairs in our relationship with God becomes tolerable. It is viewed as “the way it is.” For some, it may even be a source of pride that they don’t live by their feelings. My point here is not that we should give emotions an exaggerated role. Although our loyalty to God must never be based on feeling good. I am concerned that what is meant to be a personal love relationship is often reduced to what McGrath calls a “passive assent to propositions.”  He comments that

The issue at stake could be described in terms of personal appropriation of faith.  The Christian faith, in the deepest meaning of the phrase, is to be thought of in relational and personal, not simply propositional,  terms. God is One who is known not simply known about; He is the One who is encountered personally, not just read about in theology textbooks.[1]

Propositions of truth (theological statements) are vital to our faith. Without them, we would be hopelessly lost. But perhaps we overreact to “sappy” versions of Christianity that exalt experience over truth.  Because we want to honor God’s truth, we may view emotions and affection in our relationship with God as irrelevant.

Much more is in view here than “feeling good” or being “touched.” I am using the word “affections” here in the stronger,  more active way which Jonathan Edwards did. His explanation, while a bit extensive, is worthy of quoting:

God has endued the soul with two faculties: one is that by which it is perceives, discerns, and judges things; which is called the understanding. The other faculty is that by which the soul does not merely perceive and view things, but is some way inclined with respect to the things it views or considers. This is the faculty by which the soul does not merely behold things, as an indifferent unaffected spectator, but either as liking or disliking, pleased or displeased, approving or rejecting.

Inclination is exercised in two forms. The soul either views things with approval, with pleasure, and with acceptance, or its views things with opposition, with disapproval, with displeasure, and with rejection. These more vigorous and sensible exercises of this faculty that are called the affections.[2]

I think Edwards makes a valuable distinction here. It is so easy to stop at simply knowing something from scripture that is true and sit on that information thus  failing to engage our will toward the subject matter (the Lord himself).

Edwards considers affections as part of what we typically call “values.” When we say we are  inclined toward or affected by  spiritual things, we mean that we deem them as vitally important. We have appraised their value as high,  and we cherish them. Edwards acknowledges that affections as involve feelings, but understands them as more. He connects them with the will:

In every act of the will whatsoever, the soul either likes or dislikes, is either inclined or disinclined to what is in view: these are not essentially different from those affections of love and hatred… In every act of the will for, or towards something not present, the soul is in some degree inclined to that thing; and that inclination, if in a considerable degree, is the very same with the affection of desire.[3]

Thus, in Edwards view, a desire is more than a feeling.  It represents what we act toward and grasp onto. Desire in this sense motivates us to  do something. Edwards also makes a distinction between affections and passions:

Although the affections and passions are frequently spoken of as the same thing, they are different. Affection is a word that  seems to be something more extensive than passion, being used for all vigorous lively actings of the will or inclination; but passion for those that are more sudden, and whose effects on the body are more violent, and the mind more overpowered and less in control.[4]

When we look at the Psalms, affections and desires for God are vividly expressed. David compares his desire for God to  the deep thirst of a parched man, “O God, you are my God, earnestly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you, my body longs for you, in a dry and weary land where there is no water” (Psalm 63:1). After repenting of his affair with Bathsheba, he prays, “Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me” (Psalm 51:12).  Throughout Psalm  119, David repeatedly speaks of his desires for--and pleasures from--  knowing God through his word. He speaks of “delighting in,” “longing after,” and loving  God’s word. For David, the revealed truths of scripture are not merely accurate facts and statements, but a principal source of his affections for God. He values it more than money and enjoys its “taste” more than honey. As the Psalm ends, David strains for words:

My heart stands in awe of Your words. I rejoice at Your word, As one who finds great spoil.  I hate and despise falsehood, but I love Your law…  Those who love Your Torah have great peace, And nothing causes them to stumble…  My soul keeps Your testimonies, and I love them exceedingly. (119:161-167)

It is  vital to notice that David’s affections are anchored in the truth:  the word of God.  Instead of escaping reality to seek an emotional high for its own sake, he seeks  the truth about God, about himself, about others. The more he does that, the more his desires and affections for God grow. Not that he is  always upbeat and happy, but he is in love with his Lord.

While a lot of us are dedicated to learning the word of God, many of us would have to admit that, compared to David, we have an “affection deficit.” I have noticed a common error in our attempts to remedy this affection deficit: when we realize how poor our prayer life has become, we react by constructing an elaborate set of resolutions and goals for our prayer life. This seems to me to be a mistake.  While I think that self-discipline and the achievement of spiritual habits is essential for our long term spiritual health (and I have devoted a later chapter to it). This reaction does not address underlying ills. It is more of a guilt reliever.  A formal relationship with God does not become personal simply by praying at longer or more regular intervals, but by regaining our hunger.  Before we plunge into a rigorous set of goals and discipline,  we first need to renew and redirect our desires.

When we have had a chronic struggle to draw near to God,  we usually have lost motivation and desire. Let’s face it: we don’t pray because we don’t want to---at least not as much as we want other things. Competing desires crowd out what is left of our desire to pray.  Desires are strange things. If they are not satisfied,  they seem to change. They change by gravitating toward whatever currently satisfies them, even if that satisfaction is shallow and short-lived. For example, excessive TV watching fills a hunger. It meets some need;  perhaps it stimulates us.  But it is just a “snack.” It curbs your appetite just enough so that your don’t feel hungry for a little while. It quenches your thirst enough so that you won’t feel parched. But snacks usually don’t provide nutrition.  Imagine trying to live on Oreo cookies. You would curb your  feelings of hunger for a while, but you would surely miss vital nutrition. The same thing applies to spiritual and personal hungers. We can feed those hungers with constant entertainment and shallow stimulation. When we do, our feeling of spiritual hunger is curbed. Our boredom and loneliness is temporarily relieved, but not by drawing close to God. In this state God and his word do not seem to touch us and truly satisfy. Sadly, we grow used to this perpetual snacking and begin to think that it constitutes the normal Christian life. Our spiritual junk food diet has left us gaunt, so limp along, looking for an emotional or spiritual fix.

The desire principle works in a positive way also. If you invest in the word and prayer in a personal and honest way,  you’ll want more.  It will generate more desire.  As time goes on,  TV as a way to receive present love feelings begins to have a lesser place. When our desires are fed by the word and prayer, lesser things don’t deliver the excitement that they once did. Desires that are initially weak and rivaled by other passions can be strengthened by feeding them. By feeding those positive spiritual desires, it possible for them  to grow and overtake their rivals.

That is why our  goals and habit plans for our prayer life usually have to be preceded by the realization that we have lost our first love, as well as the remembering and repenting that needs to accompany such a realization. We cannot discipline ourselves to do things for which we have no desire. The results of such legalism are short-lived and superficial. Instead, we need  newly cultivated desires.

In a classic nineteenth century sermon called “The Expulsive Power of a New Affection,” Thomas Chalmers argues that you can never simply stop desiring wrong things. That would leave an intolerable vacuum. Instead, worldly desires must be replaced with a greater, more engaging and worthy object of desire.  As he writes, the heart would be “prevailed on simply to withdraw its regard from an object that is not worthy of it.” That would be the legalistic “just realize it is wrong” approach. “Don’t feel that, it’s sin.” Chalmers goes on to suggest that the only solution is “setting forth another object, even God,  as more worthy of its attachment” by “exchanging an old affection for a new one.” He goes on:

 You must address to the eye of his mind another object with a charm powerful enough to dispossess the first of its influence, and to engage him in some other pursuit as full of interest, and hope, and congenial activity, as the former….

 But what cannot be thus destroyed may be dispossessed—and one taste may be made to give way to another; and to lose its power entirely as the reigning affection of the mind…. Such is the grasping tendency of the human heart that it must have something to lay hold of…[5]

I wonder how many Christians resign in defeat because they can’t stop desiring this or that evil or worthless thing. It is unfortunate that such a legalistic and sin-focused perspective takes hold so often. Sometimes, well-intentioned mentors reinforce it rather than  teaching and modeling a grace-focused and affectionate  relationship with God that would instead draw the reaction of  “teach me how to pray.” Desire is something we can do something about.  Recovering the vitality of our relationship with God is the subject of the next chapter.

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