Alma began his treatise on faith by making a distinction between faith and knowledge. Now he defines faith, doing so in language that echoes Hebrews 11:1: “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” Both Alma and Paul define faith in these terms. Alma gives this explanation immediately after differentiating faith from knowledge. Understanding Paul’s famous definition will provide insights into Alma’s development of his argument.
Paul’s definition is like tests that ask you to identify correspondences: “rider is to horse as driver is to.… ” Paul defines faith with the formulation: “substance is to X as faith is to X; evidence is to X as faith is to X.” What we need, of course, is to find out what Paul intends “X” to mean.
What is substance? It is something tangible. We can feel it. We can experience substance with our senses. If someone offers you a coat against the cold, you will gladly put it on. We laugh at the story of the Emperor’s new clothes precisely because the emperor and all of the people except the little boy would not accept the evidence of their senses. Put simply, we are willing to interact with objects that have substance.
Evidence similarly provides a frame of reference for our actions. Numbers have no substance. You cannot hold a mathematical formula in your hand, yet our ability to provide evidence allows us to trust mathematical formulae. We have sufficient confidence in the evidence of some intangible concepts that we can send astronauts thousands of miles to the moon and back, and they are willing to go.
Both substance and evidence share a common conceptual thread. Both serve as a basis for our actions. We act and react to substances in this life. We act and react to concepts for which there is evidence. It is to that thread that Paul likens faith. Faith is also a basis for action. When the things we hope for have no substance, faith takes the place of substance as a basis for our action. When concepts have no evidence, faith becomes the principle upon which we act. Paul’s “X” is action, and substance and evidence allow us to act. Paul states that faith allows us to act when there are things of God for which we have no substance or evidence.
Alma’s definition is so close to Paul’s that we may assume the same basic understanding. Faith is a basis for action, but faith is not knowledge. Faith and knowledge are frequently conflated because they share tremendous similarities. For both Paul and Alma, they are motivators, or bases for actions. If they are similar in function, how are they different?
When a young child is learning to ride a bicycle, her parents put training wheels on the bike and send her on her way. When the child begins to balance, they raise the training wheels so that they are used less. As the child continues to progress, the parents notice that she is really riding on two wheels and is ready to have the training wheels removed.
This is the time of the true test. With the wheels off, the young child faces a dilemma. She knows that she can ride a bicycle with training wheels. She does not know that she can ride a bicycle without training wheels. In fact, she knows that it can be dangerous—that some children have tipped over and scraped their knees. What does she do? And how does she make the decision?
The answer is faith. She does not know she can ride without training wheels, but she has faith in her parents. They say she can; and based on her faith in their word, she is willing to try. Once she has ridden the bicycle a few times, she gains firm knowledge that she can ride. Her faith (for bicycle riding) is dormant.
It happens the same way in all mundane examples of faith. We need faith to take the first step; but when we know a thing, our faith fades to the background. But Alma’s analogy of faith compared to planting seeds misses this critical point. Planting has little to do with faith, for experience tells us what the result of the action may be. Even when we cannot predict the outcome exactly (there may be a flood, a fire, a drought), we know the range of expected outcome. We know that the crop can succeed or fail, and we know many of the factors that can influence the success or failure.
Some have suggested that flipping a light switch might be an exercise of faith. I disagree. If the light does not come on, what is our first reaction? Surprise and disbelief. We clearly expected another outcome and are shocked not to get it. Invariably, we flip the switch again.
Faith is a mechanism of change, the ability to take a step into the unknown, to attempt something we’ve never tried before. Faith is, in Joseph Smith’s words, “the principle of action in all intelligent beings.” In the temporal world it is quickly and powerfully superseded by knowledge; but when founded in Jesus Christ and tuned to the spiritual realm, it becomes the first principle that transcends mortality and brings us into contact with the attributes of godliness. In the realm of spiritual action, faith is the first principle of progression. Only faith allows us to attune our actions to the principles of holiness so that we begin to stretch our spiritual muscles and experience some of the joy that awaits us at the end of our process. (See commentary accompanying 2 Nephi 2:25 for joy.)