Both Martin Luther and Søren Kierkegaard understand Christianity primarily in terms of its impact on and relationship to the conscience. In particular, Kierkegaard explicitly agrees with Luther that Christianity cannot be understood apart from the experience of the terrified and afflicted conscience. “What Luther says is excellent, the one thing needful and the sole explanation — that this whole doctrine (of the Atonement and in the main all Christianity) must be traced back to the struggle of the anguished conscience. Remove the anguished conscience, and you may as well close the churches and turn them into dance halls. The anguished conscience understands Christianity.”1
 However, Luther and Kierkegaard both know that the experience of an anguished conscience is not simply a given in ordinary human experience. Indeed, even though both assume that every human being has a conscience, they also know that it takes quite a bit of effort to awaken the voice of the conscience, for the conscience can be deluded or deadened by a whole host of factors. Foremost among these factors is the false teaching of the Church of their day, which both credit with either burying or virtually eliminating the voice of conscience. The irony is that whereas Luther saw the Roman Church performing this function, Kierkegaard saw the Lutheran Church of his day performing the same function, in large part due to the teaching of Martin Luther himself. Kierkegaard therefore sees himself as further refining and purifying the voice of conscience in his own day, over against the errors introduced into the Church by the teaching of Martin Luther.
 In what follows, we will first lay out the teaching of Martin Luther regarding the conscience, and then turn to the way Kierkegaard develops his understanding of the conscience, both in agreement and in disagreement with Luther. We will look at the way each of them attempt to awaken the voice of conscience and to free it from error. We will also examine the way each of them thinks that the conscience is brought to the knowledge of sin, which constitutes the anguish and terror of conscience discussed above. We will then look at the relationship each draws between the anguish of conscience and the love of God in Jesus Christ as proclaimed in the Gospel. Finally, we will compare each of them on the life of imitation that each thought we should lead, once we come to faith in the forgiveness of sins.
 As we shall see, the primary area of disagreement between Luther and Kierkegaard lies in their understanding of the nature of the love of God. For Luther, the love of God removes sin, wrath, and death from the conscience, bringing it genuine comfort and peace in its terrors. Love never terrifies the conscience — that is the role played by the Law, which must always be distinguished from the Gospel. Once the Gospel comforts the conscience, it also does all such works as God commands us to do, but always in light of the need for forgiveness. For Kierkegaard, the love of God always both terrifies and comforts, for the same self-sacrificing love of God that forgives our sins also requires that we completely sacrifice our lives to God in Christ, in conformity to Christ the Prototype. Our sin is revealed by the self-sacrificing love of God in Christ, which reveals our own profound selfishness. The anguish of conscience that results creates in us the need for forgiveness from Christ our Savior. However, we are forgiven so that we might out of gratitude strive to conform our lives ever more fully to Christ as the Prototype of self-sacrificing love. Indeed, conscience itself reinforces this requirement to sacrifice our lives entirely to God, for this is precisely the primary function of conscience for Kierkegaard.
 Luther understands the conscience to be related directly to our works and only on that basis to our relationship with God. His definition of conscience makes this clear. “For the conscience is not the power of acting but the power of judging which judges about works. Its proper work (as Paul says in Romans 2) is to accuse or to excuse, to cause one to stand accused or absolved, terrified or secure. Its purpose is not to do, but to speak about what has been done and what should be done, and this judgment makes us stand accused or saved before God.”2 In order rightly to judge those works that ought to be done, as well as those works that have been done, the conscience is given several precepts of the natural law, such as the prohibition of murder, lying, and adultery, as well as the honoring of parents and those in authority. On the basis of its judgment of our works, the conscience thereby renders us absolved or accused before God.
 The conscience knows that God is our Creator who is to be worshipped, and that God is omnipotent and true. However, the conscience does not know who God is or how God is to be worshipped. To make up for this ignorance, the conscience portrays God to itself on the basis of the law it is given, and concludes with certainty that God is a righteous judge who gives the law, who therefore wants to be worshipped by our obedience to the law. God absolves those who do good works, and God accuses those who violate the law. Those who feel accused in their conscience should therefore do good works until the conscience again excuses them before God. “Although [sin] brings with it the sting of conscience, still we suppose that it has so little weight and force that some little work or merit of ours will remove it.”3 This form of worship is axiomatic to all human beings apart from faith in Christ.
 This understanding of God is essential to all human forms of idolatry, for Luther. However, the Roman Church makes matters worse by teaching that God is to be worshipped by works invented by the pious human imagination, such as the sacrifice of the Mass or monastic vows. This teaching has the effect of eclipsing the natural law, and burying the conscience in error. “It is the nature of all hypocrites and false prophets to create a conscience where there is none, and to cause conscience to disappear where it does exist.”4 The self-invented worship of conscience combines with the false teaching of the Roman Church to create a conscience that judges its works, and its relationship with God, according to an incorrect understanding of works, and an idolatrous conception of God.
 In order to awaken the conscience to the true knowledge of our sin, the Word of the Law needs to be preached and revealed to the conscience. Luther was convinced that the proper task of the Law is to reveal sin. In particular, it is the role of the Law to reveal that the greatest sin is constituted by what the conscience in its self-deluded error considered to be the highest worship of God, namely, performing works of the Law to render us absolved and saved before God. “This is the greatest idolatry that has been practiced up to now, and it is still prevalent in the world…. It concerns only that conscience which seeks help, comfort, and salvation in its own works, and presumes to wrest God from heaven.”5 Once the Law reveals how God wills truly to be worshipped — by fear and trust in God, and by love of neighbor — our conscience straightaway despairs of our own abilities, for it finds none of these things in our works. Moreover, since all the conscience finds now is sin, revealed by the Law of God, it can only pronounce a sentence of guilt on the person, placing the person under the eternal wrath of God. “For just as the Law reveals sin, so it strikes the wrath of God into a man and threatens him with death. Immediately his conscience draws the inference: ‘You have not observed the Commandments; therefore God is offended and angry with you.’”6 The purpose of the revelation of the Law is to bring us to despair of ourselves and our works, but not to despair of God. Hence the proper purpose of the Law is to prepare us for the Gospel, and to drive us to Christ. “Therefore the Law only shows sin, terrifies, and humbles; thus it prepares us for justification and drives us to Christ.”7
 Once the conscience is properly terrified by the knowledge of its sin through the revelation of the Law, the conscience then needs to hear the Word of the Gospel, which reveals that God has mercy on those who feel their sin and despair of their own works. In particular, the Gospel reveals that God has taken the sins that terrify the conscience and has placed them on Christ, along with all the consequences of sin, such as guilt, death, the curse and wrath of God, hell, and the devil. In their place, God gives me freely all that my conscience tells me that I lack, namely righteousness, innocence, life, the blessing and mercy of God, and power over the devil. “By this fortunate exchange with us He took upon Himself our sinful person and granted us His innocent and victorious Person. Clothed and dressed in this, we are freed from the curse of the Law, because Christ Himself voluntarily became a curse for us.”8 The Gospel therefore brings the greatest comfort, peace, and assurance of conscience in the midst of its terrors, for faith believes that all the evils that afflict the conscience belong to Christ, whereas all that Christ has he has freely given to us. Whenever we feel sin in our conscience, we must transfer the sin we feel to Christ, for the Gospel tells us it properly belongs to him. “Let us learn, therefore, in every temptation to transfer sin, death, the curse, and all the evils that oppress us from ourselves to Christ, and, on the other hand, to transfer righteousness, life, and blessing from Him to us.”9
 In light of the anguish and terror of the conscience created by the Law, the Gospel of Christ brings indescribable joy and freedom to the conscience. Most fundamentally, faith in Christ brings freedom from sin, death, curse, and wrath in the conscience, and hence from the condemnation of the Law. The Christian is by faith freed from the Law, both in terms of seeking absolution through works of the Law, and also from the curse of the Law revealed against sin. “This is the freedom with which Christ has set us free, not from some human slavery or tyrannical authority but from the eternal wrath of God. Where? In the conscience.”10 Through the terrors of the Law and faith in Christ, the conscience is also entirely freed from trust in works. “Christian or evangelical freedom, then, is a freedom of conscience which liberates the conscience from works. Not that no works are done, but no faith is put in them.”11
 Following from this is freedom of conscience from the compulsion of the Law. Faith does not free us from works per se, but rather from the anxiety and fear that governed our works under the Law. “For the just man lives as though he had no need of the Law to admonish, urge, and constrain him; but spontaneously, without nay legal constraint, he does more than the Law requires.”12 Finally, faith in Christ brings about freedom of conscience from all laws invented and devised by human beings, which would include things such as monastic vows and clerical celibacy. “Everything not specifically commanded by God is abrogated and made a matter of free choice.”13 The only law governing freedom is love, for we should use our freedom to build up the weak in faith, and not to offend them.
 Luther never intended his description of the freedom of the conscience from the Law, from compulsion, and from human traditions to mean that Christians are free from the commandments of God. He thought that we are freed from all of these things so that we might be free for the commandments: “it gives us liberty and absolves us of all works, efforts, laws, and traditions of men; and it binds our consciences to the Word of God alone.”14 In particular, the Word of command frees us from self-invented forms of holiness such as virginity and monasticism so that we might serve God with a good and certain conscience in the orders God has ordained, namely, the home, the state, and the church.15 God blesses all of these callings, even though they seem common and ordinary compared to monasticism. In these orders we can be certain that we are obeying and pleasing God, unless we are told to do something contrary to the Word of God, and then we should obey God and not people. Otherwise, we should assume that when we hear our mothers, fathers, masters, rulers, teachers, and preachers, we are hearing the Word of God. “For God speaks with us and deals with us through the ministers of the Word, through parents, and through the government, in order that we may not be carried about with any wind of doctrine.”16
 If we live out our calling with love and integrity, we will acquire the testimony of a good conscience that will confirm the genuineness of our faith, and will testify for us on the Day of Judgment. “We have need of this testimony of our conscience that we have carried out our ministry well and have also lived a good life.”17 However, given the persistence of sin in the holiest of Christians, the testimony of the good conscience cannot withstand the affliction brought on by Anfechtung, when our conscience feels its sin anew and concludes that we are under the wrath of God. At such times we must despair of our own works, and cling to Christ alone, seeking in him the good conscience which we no longer see and feel in ourselves. “Therefore through him we can say before God: Although I am not pure and cannot have a good conscience, yet I cleave to him who possesses perfect purity and good conscience and offers them to me, indeed, gives them to me.”18
 As noted earlier, Kierkegaard had a profound admiration and respect for Martin Luther, and thought that he was fundamentally correct with regard to his claim that only the anguished conscience understands Christianity. However, Kierkegaard became increasingly aware that Luther was also responsible for the virtual elimination of conscience in the Church of his day. According to Kierkegaard, the way to eliminate the conscience is to seek to coordinate one’s relationship with God by means of one’s relationship with other human beings, so that I relate to God by relating to other people. In other words, the very condition for a good conscience in Luther’s theology — hearing the voice of parents, rulers, teachers, and preachers as the very voice of God — is for Kierkegaard the best way to obscure or even eliminate the voice of conscience. “It could be said that ‘conscience’ is one of life’s greatest inconveniences. Therefore ‘Let’s be part of a group,’ for if we are part of a group it means good-night to conscience. We cannot be two or three, a Miller Brothers and Company around a conscience. Let’s make all this coziness secure by abolishing conscience, by saying that wanting to be a single individual is egotism, morbid vanity, etc.”19
 On the other hand, Kierkegaard appealed to Luther to understand the nature and force of conscience, when Luther went to Worms alone to confront the pope and emperor, for by so doing Luther showed the power of conscience over and against any and every group. “To the mentality of our age Luther is really ridiculous — a solitary man riding in a cart to the parliament at Worms and wanting to demolish the entire power of the Pope. That he appeals to God is, of course, again ridiculous to the mentality of our age, because according to this mentality God cannot be assumed to relate himself to an individual human being but at best to ‘a group,’ a party, a people, etc.”20 Kierkegaard therefore appeals to the Luther who stands alone with God and his conscience over against the opposition of the whole world to strive to awaken the conscience once again after it has been silenced and even eliminated by Luther’s teaching that we hear the Word of God by hearing the voices of other people.
 Kierkegaard, like Luther, presupposes that conscience exists in every human being, for were it not already there, it could never be awakened. On the other hand, it takes a great deal of training to awaken the voice of conscience, and to separate its voice from all other voices with which we may confuse it. “It is presupposed and stated that every human being has a conscience — yet there is no accomplishment (neither in the physical, like dancing, singing, etc., nor in the mental, such as thinking and the like) which requires such an extensive and rigorous schooling as is required before one can genuinely be said to have a conscience.”21 Thus eternity places conscience within every person, thereby creating the requirement for every person to form a conscience for herself. “One is compelled to say that eternity, when everyone is to be judged, will first and foremost require that every human being has equipped himself with a conscience.”22
 However, the extensive and rigorous schooling required to attain a conscience is quite different from Luther. Over against Luther’s appeal to the revelation and preaching of the Law to awaken conscience, Kierkegaard sends us directly to solitude and silence in order to discover and develop the voice of conscience. “But you, my listener, if you fear this stillness, even though you are doing your best to have a conscience (without stillness conscience does not exist at all) and to have a good conscience, then keep on, then endure it; this stillness is not the stillness of death in which you perish, it is not the sickness unto death — it is the transition to life.”23 Silence and solitude are necessary because the voice of conscience is drowned out by the voices of other human beings, so that it either becomes one voice among many, or is silenced completely. “Here in temporality the conscience already wants to make each one separately into the single individual, but here in temporality, in the restlessness, in the noise, in the crush, in the crowd, in the jungle of evasions, alas, yes, here even the terrible thing happens that someone completely deafens his conscience — his conscience, since he cannot get rid of it; it still is his or, rather, he belongs to it.”24 The schooling is to listen in silence and solitude to the voice of conscience, so that the voice of conscience is the only voice that we hear. “What else, indeed, is the accounting of eternity than that the voice of conscience is installed eternally in its eternal right to be the only voice!”25
 When the voice of conscience is heard in the silence of solitude, and in the stillness, we are summoned by conscience to become a single individual, over against our efforts to hide ourselves in a group or crowd. “But eternity can do it; eternity takes hold of each one separately with the strong arms of conscience, encircles him as the single individual, sets him apart with his conscience.”26 This forms for Kierkegaard the basis of human equality, as all can and should become single individuals by listening in silence to the voice of conscience. “Everyone, unconditionally everyone, yes, unconditionally everyone, just as much as everyone has or should have conscience, can be this single individual and should be that, can stake his honor in willing to be that.”27 I become a single individual when conscience takes me out of my relation to others, and places me solely in relation to God, so that I am alone with God in the relation of conscience. “To relate to God is precisely to have conscience. Thus a person could not have anything on his conscience if God did not exist, because the relationship between the individual and God, the God-relationship, is the conscience.”28
 As the God-relation of the individual, conscience represents our knowledge of God’s knowledge of us, and being known by God constitutes the possibility of our attaining personality. “Actually it is the conscience which constitutes a personality; personality is an individual determinateness confirmed by being known by God in the possibility of conscience. The conscience may sleep, but the possibility of it is constitutive.”29 If I become a personality by being known by God, then the more transparent I am to God, the more I am a person. The purpose of conscience is therefore to make me a person by making me more and more transparent to God. “But before God they were and are single individuals; the person sitting in a showcase is not as embarrassed as every human being is in his transparency before God. This is the relationship of conscience.”30 Moreover, if God sees me in conscience, then I on the other hand am always to look to God in conscience. “What is conscience? In the conscience it is God who looks at a person; so now in everything the person must look at him. This is how God brings us up.”31 This is precisely how Kierkegaard himself experienced his upbringing by God. “God has spotted me in my conscience and now has made it impossible for me to forget that he sees me. Having been looked at by God, I had to and have to look to God.”32
 The God-relationship of conscience is not only discovered in solitude and silence, it is further developed and expressed only in solitude and silence. By seeing us in conscience, God wants us to look to God alone in all things in conscience, and not to consult with others at all regarding our relationship with God, for in truth one “is subjectively a person to the degree that he consults only with God and his conscience and is able to endure it.”33 Thus conscience leads us to heed the words of Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount, that we should shut our door and pray to our Father in secret. “The first thing a religious man does is lock his door and talk in secret.”34 Praying to God in secret, consulting only with God alone in silence and solitude, speaking to no one else about our relationship with God, is the only way to express the God-relation of conscience. Far from being an optional and pious religious practice, locking the door and praying to God in solitude is the very highest in human life.35 “Christianity, however, immediately teaches a person the shortest way to find the highest: Shut your door and pray to God — because God is surely the highest.”36
 Christianity also tells us to take Scripture into the room, so that we might before God become obligated to Scripture in conscience. “Truth is that it becomes known that there is a book called the New Testament and that everyone must alone by himself before God become obligated by it.”37 Since we are bringing the New Testament into our relationship with God in conscience, we must not consult with others regarding the meaning of what we read, but must consult only with God, so that alone before God we take full responsibility of our interpretation, and relate our interpretation directly to God, asking God for the meaning of what we read.38 Thus, in the silence and solitude of prayer, alone in our room with the door locked, I learn for myself that “there is a God; his will is made known to me in Holy Scripture and in my conscience.”39 But we must never speak with others about what Scripture and conscience make known to us; we are only to consult with God, and keep our relationship with God in silence.
 Thus, like Luther, Kierkegaard sees the heart of the Christian life as being our speaking to God in prayer, and God speaking to us in the Word; but unlike Luther, who sees this taking place primarily in preaching and the sacraments, Kierkegaard wants this to take place when I am alone in my room with the door locked. “Ah, it gets so turned around! We think that religiousness, instead of being a matter of every individual’s going alone into his private room to talk softly with himself, is a matter of talking very loudly.”40 Conscience leads us to seek and foster our relationship with God alone in our room, and not in the public assembly of the community. “On the whole, I think I have discovered that Christianity can be communicated only in a private room, and the larger the group the less the essentially Christian comes forth, and it becomes almost ridiculous.”41 The more we speak to others in public, the more we abolish the relationship to God in conscience. “The sum and substance of public life is actually, from first to last, lack of conscience.”42
 The goal of being alone before God with Scripture is to come to be taught directly by God, with no other human being intervening. When we are taught by God, God reveals love to us, not only that God loves us, but more importantly that God is Love. However, it is precisely this revelation that must be the most carefully guarded by allowing no other human being to teach us about God, for the love that is God stands in direct contradiction to any and every human understanding of love. We understand love to be the greatest leniency; but God reveals that love is simultaneously the most strenuous requirement. We understand love to be the greatest comfort; but God reveals that love is simultaneously the most terrifying. We understand love as eliminating our solitude; but being loved by God isolates us from the whole world, and makes it increasingly impossible for us to be understood by others. We think that the gift of love eliminates requirements; but God reveals that the more God loves us, the more we are required to surrender completely to God, to sacrifice ourselves completely to God. We think that love forgives sin; but God reveals that it is precisely and only love that can reveal sin.
 If love is the greatest terror as well as the greatest comfort, then Luther must be wrong about the relationship between the Law and the Gospel. At the center of Luther’s understanding of the conscience is the role of the Law in revealing sin to the conscience out of wrath, and the role of the Gospel in removing sin from the conscience out of love. Kierkegaard thinks that this division of Law and Gospel leads to the elimination of conscience and of Christianity. “Luther separates the two: the law and the gospel. First the law and then the gospel, which is sheer leniency, etc. In this way Christianity becomes an optimism anticipating that we are to have an easy life in this world.”43 This conclusion was drawn by the Christendom of Kierkegaard’s day, which taught that we were forgiven by God’s love so that we might enjoy life in this world. “But in Christendom an attempt has been made to eliminate conscience by introducing atonement in the following manner: You have a God who has atoned — now you may really enjoy life. This is the greatest possible relapse.”44
 Kierkegaard therefore thinks that Luther’s decisive discovery — that the Gospel is the only power that can bring peace and comfort to terrified consciences — actually sets the Church on a path that leads eventually to the elimination of conscience altogether. “Thus Luther turns Christianity upside down. Christianity exists to soothe and reassure, Christ came to soothe and reassure, it is added, anguished consciences. This is completely opposite to the New Testament.”45 The problem is even worse if there is no one suffering from anguish of conscience any more, as this is the situation presupposed by Luther’s teaching. “But there is no one, note well, who even in the remotest way has this troubled conscience! What then is Luther’s ‘conclusion’? Is there any meaning in reassurance for troubled consciences if the presupposition of the troubled conscience is not there?”46
 When God reveals God’s love to my conscience, God simultaneously reveals my own sin. God’s love reveals that what I call love is really an alliance in self-love, even if I see that love in my larger community or even nation. God’s love is self-denying love that does not seek its own benefit, but which rather summons us to sacrifice everything in self-denial to make room for God, since the alliance in self-love only succeeds by eliminating the relationship to God. “By love, however, God understands self-sacrificing love in the divine sense, the self-sacrificing love that sacrifices everything in order to make room for God, even if the heavy sacrifice became even heavier because no one understood it, something that in another sense belongs to true sacrifice, inasmuch as the sacrifice that people understand has its reward, after all, in popular approval and to that extent is not true sacrifice, which must unconditionally be without reward.”47 When I become involved with God in conscience, in the solitude and silence of my room with the door locked, I discover the genuine terror of God’s love, in that it unconditionally requires me to sacrifice everything for the sake of God, with no other benefit than the relationship with God itself. The revelation of this love is simultaneously the revelation of my sin, for it is now clear to my conscience that I am guilty of crucifying the love that is God in the name of my all-too-human understanding of love and compassion. “You get a guilt, a glaring guilt, laid upon your conscience — namely, that you, too, are an accomplice in his innocent suffering and death.”48
 Yet the terrors of conscience created by the revelation of God’s love also provide the only access I have to the love of God, for apart from the terrified conscience I would not seek out Christ in faith, but would rather be offended by him. “See, this is Christianity. If you are not conscious of being a sinner to the degree that in the anxiety of the anguished conscience you do not dare anything other than to commit yourself to Christ — then you will never become a Christian.”49 Luther is therefore right in this sense, that only the terrified conscience understands the atonement, “since an atonement is necessary only in the understanding of the anguished conscience.”50 However, Luther is wrong to distinguish Christ from the experience of the anguished conscience, since it is not only the force that drives me to Christ, but is also the source of my singular commitment to Christ, so that I am simultaneously willing to venture all, and to sacrifice all, for the Savior who died for my sins.
 Precisely this willingness to venture all, to sacrifice all, in the face of the world’s scorn, opposition, and persecution, is what Kierkegaard understands freedom of conscience to be. “Let a man be silent, but let his life express that in relationship to the religious life he has ventured everything — then it would be a matter of conscience.”51 Indeed, it is precisely the opposition to such sacrifice that leads one to discover whether one is really acting from freedom of conscience or from some other motivation. “The qualification ‘conscience’ is so inward that it takes all the filtering possible to find it; but if it is found, if it really is that and only that which determines me — then all regulations be hanged — I laugh at them. It is precisely because ‘the conscience’ is infinitely sacred to the man who is at all conscientious that he wants opposition, constraint.”52
 Kierkegaard will therefore never define freedom of conscience as freedom from, as Luther does, since our freedom is only found when we love Christ with such singular passion that we are willing to venture all for him, and to sacrifice all for him. “The person who can stand alone in the world in this way, consulting only with his conscience — he is a hero.”53 We can thus see how Kierkegaard does in truth appeal to Luther the solitary monk standing up to Pope and Emperor to correct Luther the leader of the Lutheran movement — the former leads to the creation and strengthening of conscience in silence and solitude, alone before God, willing to make every sacrifice for God; whereas the latter leads to a view that will eventually lead to the abolition of conscience, as we seek forgiveness of sin in Christ so that we might enjoy ourselves in this life.
Randall C. Zachman is Professor of Reformation Studies, University of Notre Dame.
1. Søren Kierkegaard’s Journals and Papers, edited and translated by Howard V. Hong and Edna H. Hong (Bloomington and London: Indiana University Press, 1975), Volume 3, p. 63; henceforth JP 3:63.
2. Judgment of Martin Luther on Monastic Vows, Luther’s Works, American Edition. Edited by Jaroslav Pelikan and Helmut T. Lehman (Saint Louis, MO: Concordia Publishing House; Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1955-67), Volume 26, p. 139: D. Martin Luther’s Werke: Kritische Gesamtausgabe (Weimar, 1883-), Volume 8, p. 606, lines 32-37. Henceforth LW 26:139; WA 8.606.32-37.
3. Lectures on Galatians, 1531/5, LW 26:33; WA 40(I).84.17-19.
4. Lectures on First Timothy, LW 28:311; WA 26.69.11-12.
5. The Book of Concord, ed. Theodore Tappert (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1959), p. 367.
6. Galatians, LW 26:310; WA 40(I).482.26-28.
7. Galatians, LW 26:126; WA 40(I).224.23-25.
8. Galatians, LW 26:284; WA 40(I).443.23-24.
9. Galatians, LW 26:292; WA 40(I).454.30-34.
10. Galatians, LW 27:4-5; WA 40(II).4.13-20.
11. Monastic Vows, LW 44:298; WA 8.606.30-32.
12. Galatians, LW 27:96; WA 40(II).121.14-16.
13. Monastic Vows, LW 44:309-10; WA 8.613.11-18.
14. LW 9:125; WA 14.646.4-6.
15. Lectures on Genesis, LW 3:217; WA 43.30.13-14.
16. Genesis, LW 5:71; WA 43.478.8-15.
17. Galatians, LW 27:120-21; WA 40(II).154.25-32.
18. LW 30:51; WA 36.366.12-15.
19. JP 2:417.
20. JP 2:418.
21. JP 1:320.
22. JP 1:321.
23. Three Discourses on Imagined Occasions, edited and translated by Howard V. and Edna H. Hong (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1993), 11-12.
24. Upbuilding Discourses in Various Spirits, edited and translated by Howard V. and Edna H. Hong (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1993), 128-9.
26. Upbuilding Discourses in Various Spirits, 133.
27. JP 2:415.
28. Works of Love, edited and translated by Howard V. and Edna H. Hong (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1995), 143.
29. JP 3:483.
30. The Sickness unto Death, edited and translated by Howard V. and Edna H. Hong (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1980), 124.
31. Works of Love, 377.
32. JP 5:386.
33. JP 2:70.
34. JP 2:460.
36. Works of Love, 51.
37. JP 2:419.
38. JP 3:291-2.
39. JP 2:385.
40. JP 2:397.
41. JP 3:316.
42. JP 3:320.
43. JP 3:103.
44. JP 1:217.
45. JP 2:100.
46. JP 3:489.
47. Works of Love, 119-20.
48. Christian Discourses, edited and translated by Howard V. and Edna H. Hong (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1997), 174.
49. JP 1:199.
50. JP 3:64.
51. JP 1:321.
52. JP 2:71.
53. JP 2:71.