One of the benefits of argument is found in the increased ability to be more precise in one’s own position each time it is challenged. This is, in fact, the only way to make progress. Anything less results in repetitious circles. I realize from Chris’ latest response that my idea of just what an inclination is has not been coming across very well. This may also have something to do with Clifton’s charge that I subsume person under nature. I need to make a sharper distinction between what gets inclined and who does the inclining. Related to this, I also need to attempt a clearer delineation between person and nature. In a causal relationship, which comes first? For this, it will be necessary to see both the relation and distinction between the nature and the will.
Chris begins his post by noting a lack of important disagreement regarding God’s libertarian freedom. And I was ready to let it go at that until he said, “I see no reason to posit any third thing in addition to nature and will, so Occam’s razor inclines me to think that God’s libertarian freedom is properly thought of as freedom of will.” This is one thing that I have not conceded, nor that I could concede without serious damage to compatibilism. It is essential that I establish the freedom of all moral agents, i.e., persons, as substantive. True freedom exists when it possible for a person to act according to his desires. Not inclinations, but desires. That a person may not have access to the full palate of possible desires is irrelevant. God’s natural ability far exceeds that of any human. This also goes for the number of things that it is possible for him to do. Nevertheless, the range of possibilities is broader for humanity than it is for God. Though he has the ability, God cannot desire and therefore finds it impossible to do anything immoral. This is not in his nature. Whereas human nature, as such, does nothing to restrict natural ability, God’s nature necessitates him to always do that which is good. This does not mean, however, that God’s nature dictates exactly which option he must choose. The possibilities for good actions are vast.
On the other hand, when it comes to the inclination of the will, the possibilities are not as generous. There is a single option. The will moves in the direction that it is inclined. When speaking of inclinations, we make think either of that inclination immediately prior to the will or of all the causal factors leading to that particular inclination. I have been expressing my view of inclination in the broader sense. In this case, the concept includes desires and along with these the struggle for predominance within morally bipolar beings. Even where the moral struggle is not necessarily an issue, it is possible to include appetites or environmental factors in the list of those things that influence personal desire. However, as long as a person’s choice is according to what he wanted to do, it is free. Whenever a person is compelled to action that is not according to desire, only then is there a lack of freedom.
The use of inclinations in this broader sense makes it possible to speak of their relative strength or weakness. While I believe this to be a legitimate use of the term, it has not been the most helpful in this discussion. Throughout this discussion, I have tried to limit the will to a faculty that is properly a part of the nature. Considering that monergism was saddled with monothelitism in the opening post of this series, this seems to be the only possible option against that charge. In itself, the idea that Jesus had two wills instead of one is purely academic. It should not rise to the level of heresy. As should be evident from this discussion, we have not come to consensus about the proper place of the will. Is it a faculty of the nature, or should it be understood as the person choosing? The answer to this will determine whether, in each particular case, it is monothelitism or dithelitism that is heretical. However, the church did not leave this option open. It declared monothelitism to be heretical. Why? Because it was recognized that monothelitism was intended to introduce monophysitism; i.e., the belief that Jesus had a single nature. Had it not been understood all around that the will attaches to the nature and not to the person, then the connection never would have been made. Either the pronouncement of heresy would have been qualified, or, a consensus being found in the opposite direction, dithelitism would have been the heresy of choice.
If the church was correct in declaring monothelitism heresy, and I believe it was, it must follow that the will is part of the nature. Jesus had two natures; therefore, Jesus had two wills. The will is a faculty, nothing more. So when Chris says that “God’s libertarian freedom is properly thought of as a freedom of will,” I have to conclude there is lack of communication and he is using the word in a different sense. I am, after all, very reluctant to believe that he is a monophysitist. Chris uses Occam’s razor to make his decision between nature and will. Generally, however, the razor doesn’t work when a genus/species or whole/part relationship exists between the perceived options. There are not two options here, just one. Consequently, Occam shouldn’t be too upset if we introduce a second. I nominate the person. God the Father, desiring to elect, inclines the divine will in such a way that the action inevitably follows.
I will stipulate that the act of election was different from all acts of any other person and most if not all acts of God in that, being prior to or a part of the decree of God, it did not have to be compatible with that decree. I will call this an example of libertarian free agency. The Father freely chose to elect with nothing determining whether or not he would. But I will not call this libertarian free will. The will cannot choose at all, much less in a libertarian sense. It is a faculty and not a person. It moves in whatever direction the person has inclined it. And here is where I should have been using “inclination” in the narrower sense. An inclination is that which is the immediate cause of any movement of the will. Put another way, it is the person inclining the will in one direction or the other. In a sense, it is virtually identical to decision. Whenever a decision has been made, the will has been inclined. As there is only one decision at a time, there is also one inclination at a time. The relative strength of an inclination is not a factor. It has nothing against which to compete. An inclination of the will [will as object] is either there or it is not. All issues must be resolved (at least for the moment) by the person before he can incline the will in any direction. Once he does, a corresponding decision has been made. If he does not, then nothing happens. The will is not autonomous and cannot act on its own.
If making a decision and inclining the will are so closely related, why not just choose the simpler option and say that they are the same thing? Why go through all the bother of saying that the will is inclined when a decision is made? Both views allow for the freedom of a person to do whatever he wants to do. The seemingly simpler view does not account, however, for the total depravity of unregenerate man or of the impossibility of God to do evil. In the libertarian view, freedom is not possible unless it is possible for a person to do anything that is within his natural ability. Ought implies can and there is therefore no distinction between being able to do something and it being possible to do something. In the compatibilist view, a person is still free even when natural ability has been limited to what is morally possible. Ought does not imply can. Furthermore, even while the unregenerate man’s moral inability makes it impossible for him not to break God’s commandment, the fact that he is naturally able to fulfill it makes him morally responsible.
For the reasons stated, I believe that libertarian freedom of the will is incoherent. This would be rendered false by counterexample. The libertarian free will of God in election would provide just such an occasion. However, I have no intention to concede such a point unless it can be proven. It is sufficient to say that God did whatever he wanted to when he elected; that election or non-election were equally good and, therefore, unrestricted by God’s moral nature; that God was a free moral agent with nothing, not even his own decree to determine how he would act in this case. But it cannot be the case that his will moved or was able to move in any other direction than that to which he inclined it. A unique case of non-compatibilist freedom, yes, but not libertarian free will.
We can finally get to the part where Chris does claim substantive disagreement with me; namely, Adam’s will. Chris begins with a critique of the necessary connection between acting on an inclination to do something sinful and acting on a sinful inclination. I had written, “the command being both given and understood, acting on the same inclination [an inclination not inherently sinful] cannot be separated from acting on a simultaneous inclination to disobey God.” I am still convinced of the substance of this statement; however, I need to reword it to reflect my further explanation of an inclination. Where (X) is an inherently good act, and (Y) is an act forbidden by God, it is possible that these acts are numerically identical (XY). (XY) being a single act, it will only take a single inclination of the will to bring this about. The question now is what factors or combination of factors that would so incline the will are actually possible. For the inability to think of a better word at the moment, I’m going to call these factors ‘dispositions.’ [These can include anything from libertarian free agency (not will) to the strictest compatibilism.] (X1) will now represent the disposition to do something sinful and (Y1) will represent acting on a sinful disposition.
Worst case: Adam isn’t hungry at all and has no good reason to eat of the tree. He just wants to disobey. In this case, (Y1) would suffice to incline his will in the required direction. We know that this was not the case for Eve, who saw that the tree was good for food. I am not aware of this much information on Adam, so the scenario is possible. Guilty.
Adam hasn’t eaten all day; however, he knows the command not to eat of this tree but decides to disobey. (X1Y1) Guilty.
Adam hasn’t eaten all day; however, he knows the command not to eat of this tree. Eve has eaten of the tree without his knowledge. That afternoon, she presents him with a wonderful fruit pie. Adam, having no reason to distrust his wife, freely partakes. In this case, I am going to invoke the concept of invincible ignorance. ( X1) Not guilty.
Adam hasn’t eaten all day; however, he knows the command not to eat of this tree. Strolling through the garden, he notices his wife putting all sorts of fruit into a basket, including the forbidden variety. Later that evening, she serves fruit salad. Upon being confronted, Adam expresses shock that the woman God gave him would do such a thing. Vincible ignorance. Definitely (X1) and my vote is also on (Y1), though Chris my disagree. In any case, guilty.
Adam hasn’t eaten all day; however, he knows the command not to eat of this tree. His disposition to obey God in this regard ranges anywhere from just under (X1) to none at all. This is essentially the same as Chris’ supposition about his own ravenous hunger. There, he admits that a weak inclination (disposition) to obey God indicates that there is something morally wrong. In Chris’ self example, he is defending the idea that (X1) and (Y1) can be separated when considering (XY). (X1) is to be considered by itself in support of a guilty verdict. We both agree that this scenario could not apply to Adam, but for entirely different reasons. Chris maintains that a weak inclination to obey God, being an indication that something is morally wrong, would be impossible in pre-fall man because this would entail Adam being ill made. His alternate scenario would still have Adam being charged for (X1); however, the inclination to obey God would either be equal to X1 or incomensurable, or it would be stronger with the understanding that it is impossible to follow a weaker inclination. In neither of these options could God be charged with faulty workmanship.
My own rejection of this scenario is based on the absence of a tertium quid. When is ‘little to no inclination to obey’~(IO) separable from ‘an inclination to disobey’(ID)? Let’s keep the narrow definition of inclination. Let us also assume a specific command to be obeyed. There are three situations in which ~(IO) can stand alone. 1) Invincible ignorance of the command. Not possible with regard to Adam: God wouldn’t be that sloppy. 2) Being asleep or otherwise unconscious. If one is rendered temporarily incapable of having any inclinations, it follows that
~(IO) would also be the case as would be ~(ID). [(ID), however, would not be the case, since no inclinations are possible at the moment.] 3) The immediate opportunity to commit the act is not available. This says nothing about what the dispositions would be if the opportunity were available.
In all other cases, not only is the separation gone, but the distinction exists in name only. If the command is given and I understand that I am forbidden to do something that is otherwise good; if, all things being equal, (X1) comes into play, then my knowledge that (X)=(Y) requires me to consider (Y1). There are, again, three possibilities. 1) (X1) is diluted or replaced and I reject (Y1). My will is not inclined toward but is inclined away from (XY). 2) I keep (X1) and accept (Y1). My will is inclined toward (XY). 3) I keep (X1) but never make up my mind on (Y1). My will is not inclined toward (XY). It isn’t inclined away from it, either. However, until it is inclined toward (XY), then it will be impossible for me to commit this act. [ This possibility will either resolve into one of the first two or the continuous contemplation of (Y1) will be replaced with the acceptance of (Y1jr.): I will not actually commit (XY), but I will be guilty of lusting after it.] My point is this: knowledge of the command necessitates deliberation of that command when considering an act that would break that command, though otherwise good. ~(IO) by itself is not a possibility. The deliberation implied by the knowledge of the command must result in intentional disobedience in the event of (X1).
Chris is quick to point out that “X=Y does not entail knowledge of X= knowledge of Y.” And he is, of course, correct. Nevertheless, this does not apply to the fall of Adam. The identity of the forbidden tree was not a secret. God told Adam that X=Y. Having been informed of the connection, Adam cannot contemplate X without also contemplating Y.
Next, Chris restates his position that it is possible to act on inclinations other than the strongest at the moment of decision. I must admit my own weakness here. Although I understand the meaning of the words, I cannot conceive of a situation in which this would be true. My own observation that Adam’s inclination to obey God at the moment of the fall could not have been the strongest is regarded as question begging. I’ll except the criticism. As long as I keep saying no to his yes, neither of us will get anywhere. Chris breaks the cycle by introducing a new concept (or, at least one that I had not picked up on before); namely, ordered inclinations.
We both agree that Adam could not have been created in an incorruptible state. According to Chris, though, he “affirm[s] that they were created in a state such that there was nothing morally wrong with them.” Perhaps one should infer from this that I do not affirm the same thing. I do insist that Adam was not created perfect; however, I do not equate imperfect creation with having something morally wrong. I am willing both to say and believe that Adam was created with nothing morally wrong. Still, as has been the case several times throughout this discussion, it isn’t so much a matter of what a person professes to believe as it is of the logical consequences, perceived or actual of other things he professes to believe. So we should probably look into whether or not my scheme does require disordered inclinations in Adam as he was created.
Based on the more restricted definition of inclination given at the beginning of this post, this cannot be the case. Inclinations don’t even exist until the will is activated. God could hardly have created Adam with disordered inclinations if, by definition, they cannot exist until after he has finished creating him. This is, perhaps, unfair. When Chris made the charge, I had not explicitly restricted the scope of an inclination. So let’s consider the possibility of disordered dispositions.
What then makes for disordered dispositions? They can be disordered when the disposition to obey God is weaker than any other disposition. Remember that on Chris’ account, this is not the case. Adam is able to sin despite the fact that his disposition to obey God is not weaker than any other disposition. I claim that, not only did Adam have a weak disposition to obey God at the fall, but he had a stronger disposition to disobey him. How is this not disordered? Consider the source of the disposition. If God had created Adam with this disposition, then I concede that he was ill made. But I deny that this is the case. Chris, however, will not let me get away with this. He quotes my own concession to his argument, “...if Adam always acts according to his strongest inclinations, then the fall was ultimately necessitated by the way God made Adam and the situation in which he placed him.” Along with this concession, I had also invoked the WCF III.1- God from all eternity did, by the most wise and holy counsel of his own will, freely and unchangeably ordain whatsoever comes to pass: yet so, as thereby neither is God the author of sin, nor is violence offered to the will of the creatures, nor is the liberty or contingency of second causes taken away, but rather established.
Chris objects. The secret will of God, with which he agrees, is not the same thing as an unbroken chain of necessary causation. Perhaps, but I don’t see why it can’t be. Sure, I wouldn’t be able to explain the confessional denial that God is the author of sin. On the other hand, if I hold to the secret will of God and do not link it to such a causal chain, then I am at a loss to explain how it is has anything to do with what happens in the world. Either way, something’s missing. Moreover, since I am convinced that the doctrine of God’s secret will is taught in Scripture, I cannot toss it out in order to open up other options. It appears that this causal chain from decree to creation and through Adam’s choices to the fall is within the bounds of the confession.
There is, perhaps, another way to refute Chris’ charge of disordered inclinations that is consistent with the view that the will is never libertarian free but must be inclined in one direction or another from outside of itself. I could steal Chris’ answer to a question that he asks toward the end of his post. He had suggested that we ask what causes the will to choose between two conflicting inclinations. I will have to restate this since it represents an unacceptable personification of a faculty. What causes the person to incline the will in only one of two conflicting directions? “My answer is: in some case at least, nothing apart from the secret will of God.” Since I have conceded the libertarian free agency of God in election, why not allow this for other acts of God or even acts of other persons? The inclination of the will is an effect and so, I must insist on sufficient causation. But it is not necessarily true that inclining the will is an effect. Unless someone can show that this is incoherent, I can deny libertarian free will and affirm libertarian free agency at the same time. Either the causal chain is broken as soon as we move back from the inclined will to the person, or the person was free to have broken it. Nothing necessitated that Adam fall. It could not have been his nature, since the range of moral options was equal to that of his natural ability. Not only was Adam able to not sin, but it was possible for him to not sin. His inclinations were not disordered and he was not ill-made.
Chris responds to my last post in our part of the soteriology debate both in the comments section and in a post over here. I’m going to consider the comment first. Chris is right: my third paragraph is muddled. I believe that the decision is either the exercise of the will itself or the immediate evidence that the will has been exercised. It is not prior to the exercise of the will. I should have chosen the word “inclination” instead of “decision.” In that case, the question is not about any prior restraints on the relative strengths of God’s inclinations, but whether, one of these being the strongest when the will was actually exercised, that will could have been operated contrary to it. I maintain that it could not. To answer a question brought up in the addenda to his post, I agree with Edwards- the idea of libertarian freedom is incoherent.
But I do need to qualify that. Chris goes on in his comment to say that, on pain of infinite regress, there must be something about God’s volens creare that is libertarian free. Despite the fact that I adore the principle of sufficient causation, I’m going to have to agree with this. Something must exist prior to the exercise of the will that is not itself an effect. The exercise of the will itself, however, is an effect that must be according to the strongest inclination. The denial of libertarian free will is not a repudiation of libertarian freedom as such but of the idea that the faculty of the will is ever libertarian free in its operation. It is not, indeed, it cannot be. The faculty of the will has no will of its own. It does not operate anything but is itself operated. [Just as a side note- I believe that there actually was a prior reality such that God could not have not created. I don’t argue the point here because, even if I could prove it, there would still be the matter of why God chose to elect whom he did; and I’m not willing to deny unconditional election.]
And now to the post itself. Chris gives a syllogism for libertarian free will. It is valid; however, the first premise is untrue. God’s nature, N, was prior to his choice, C. So the second premise is correct. However, while a nature can exclude certain options, it does not, in itself, determine between those options that it allows. Still, there was a reality prior to the exercise of God’s will and consistent with his nature that determined the direction in which his will was moved. God wanted to create; he was inclined to do so, and, as a consequence of this inclination, his will could be exercised in no other direction.
Next we turn to my views on Adam. My own syllogism is: 1) The inclination to sin in someone with a perfect nature is zero. 2) Adam sinned. 3) Therefore, Adam did not have a perfect nature. Chris suggests two options for an unspoken premise: a) Adam would not have sinned unless he had an inclination to sin [or sinful inclination]. b) Adam would not have sinned unless he had an inclination to do something sinful. Chris has distinguished between these, but, to me, this is a distinction without a difference. Chris’ explanation of “something sinful” is that which, in itself is not sinful but is made so by the command of God. The desire to eat fruit is a good thing. God’s designating a certain tree as off limits does nothing to change this desire. So far, so good. Absent the command, acting on this inclination is not sinful. However, the command being both given and understood, acting on the same inclination cannot be separated from acting on a simultaneous inclination to disobey God. That is, while it is possible for a person having a perfect nature to desire something that, in abstraction from the commandment, is good, it is not possible that he could act on this unless he were also inclined to disobedience. An example of this can be found in my post immediately prior to this one. When Christ was in the garden, he had an inclination not to be crucified. This is perfectly understandable; in fact, I share it. However, this is as far as it went. He did not refuse, much less argue with the Father. Instead, he immediately submitted to the Father’s will.
Chris’ argument also fails on another point. He quotes himself: “ Since God created [Adam & Eve] good, their desire to obey him was stronger than their desire for what was pleasing to the eye and good for food. Notice that none of their desires is bad. God gave them the desire for what is pleasing to the eye and good for food, and that desire was good. What was evil was their choosing to follow the desire for the lesser good.” He explains that he was using “desire” to mean “inclination.” If it is the case that, in order for Adam and Eve to be created good, the inclination to obey him was stronger than the inclination to have what was pleasing to the eye (a thing in and of itself not bad), then the only way to act on the lesser inclination would be in combination with a stronger inclination. For most trees, the inclinations Chris mentions are compatible. In the case of the forbidden fruit, they are not. Just as the [good] activity of eating is, in this case, inseparably linked to disobedience to God, even so, the inclination to eat is now inseparably linked to the inclination to disobey God. Either way, whether the sin was found directly in choosing the lesser good or whether it was accompanied by the inclination to disobey, the inclination to obey God at the time was not and could not have been the strongest. And if even this one time it failed to be the strongest inclination, it must follow that neither Adam and Eve were created in an incorruptible state.
I do not deny that man was created good. However, the qualifications for good need to be reexamined in light of the context and overall design. The goal for the creation of man is perfection through the incarnation and resurrection of Christ. In the final state, incorruptible will be the standard for what constitutes good, but not before. Had Adam been create already corrupt, he would have been ill made. This was not the case, though. He was created corruptible, which is significantly different. Nor does corruptible imply that Adam’s nature necessitated the fall. To fall or not to fall were both equally viable options. The point of my theory on the Adam’s nature before the fall was that it must have been constituted so as to make the fall possible. Equating this with making the fall necessary is reading too much into it.
Next, Chris goes to where I directly argue for Adam not being made perfect. While I did not reference an Edwardsian theory of the will, I have no objection to the idea that it will not work without it. My claim is that any fundamental change in our nature must be supernatural. Chris disagrees, saying that this “is doubtful when it comes to a change from moral perfection to moral corruption.” But this is part of my point. If supernatural intervention is required for a fundamental change in nature, then God is responsible for that change. It would be against God’s moral nature for him to create fresh evil in someone by corrupting his nature. Therefore, Adam's fundamental nature could not have changed. Furthermore, it appears that Chris has a different understanding of moral perfection. It can either mean not actually corrupt or not able to become corrupt. If the first, then a change from moral perfection to moral corruption is possible without divine intervention. However, this would not constitute a fundamental change in nature. The nature would already have been such that the change was possible. This would only be a change of position and would be no different then Chris’ hypothetical pin. Falling in either direction changes the position of the pin. It was already part of the pin’s nature to fall in one direction or the other whet poised on its point on the edge of a table.
Before the fall, Adam was able to become sinful without supernatural intervention. This would not constitute a change in nature since the possibility was already there. Things are different in the other direction. While the idea of a man in Adam’s position maintaining his original condition by not sinning is possible (if statistically less likely over time), confirmation in righteousness or the change to an incorruptibly righteous nature would require divine intervention. Adam was only able to fulfill the legal conditions for this change under the promise of God. It would be up to God to keep his word by effecting the change.
Even if I did not believe that libertarian freedom was incoherent, that God in some case could exercise it, my theory on the fall would still stand. There is a difference between equal options that a single nature will allow and options not possible given a particular nature. If Adam’s nature were incorruptibly perfect, sinning would not have been a viable option.
On the subject of angels, I agree that they were all created with the same moral nature; that this nature, while it did not determine that some would sin and others would not, made both options possible. In other words, each angel had about the same odds that Adam did.
Clifton and I are in substantial agreement on at least one point in his Personhood Backwards and Forwards and Monergism’s Essence; namely, that the starting point for any discussion of human personhood is found in the revelation of the Trinity and the Incarnation of Christ. We both agree that our understanding of these will inform our conception of a human person. I must disagree, however, with the idea that our understanding of human personhood can always be mapped backward onto Christological and Trinitarian doctrine. To be sure, our understanding of persons as such can be transferred between the three categories of persons; i.e., divine, human, and angelic. Still, even if we accept Clifton’s claim that my own view of human personhood does not match up with this standard, it is up to him to demonstrate that this difference is a question of substance rather than accidents. If this cannot be done, then his claim that monergism’s ‘understanding of human personhood necessarily results in a deficient Trinitarianism and Christology” is false.
Clifton still believes that I identify person with nature, my objections to the contrary notwithstanding. These objections are, he says, mere assertions and not argument. But I have presented an argument, one which Clifton quotes only to promptly miss the point. Part of Clifton’s strategy has been to claim that my views logically entail modalism. [I tried to say that the most he could claim was unitarianism; however, he has rightly pointed out that since I do profess a belief in the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, then my views, if they are unitarian, must also be modalistic.] If person is identified with nature, then God’s nature, since it is one, can only be associated with one person. Orthodox Trinitarianism becomes impossible.
In an attempt to disprove my claim that the two wills of Christ were always directed toward the same object, Clifton introduced the Garden of Gethsemane in which Jesus says, “Not my will, but thine be done.” Clifton explains, “For if they willed the same thing, then Jesus had no need to deny the object of his human will (drawing back from death), and would simply have acquiesced to the Father’s will.” This makes no sense. If the wills of Christ both willed the same thing, then there must be a numerical identity in the object of those wills. If Jesus denies this object, then he is denying the object both of his human will and of his divine will. The initial disagreement lies, not between the two wills of Christ, but between the persons of the Father and of the Son. This is not a state of affairs that can be maintained when the inclination of one of these persons is put into action and so the Son submits to the Father.
It is true, as Clifton mentions, that the original context of this exchange was the nature-willing schema rather than the person-nature schema. My defense against the charge of modalism is not found directly in my reply itself but in the necessary assumptions behind that reply. By accusing me of modalism, Clifton affirms that I believe God has a single nature. This much is correct. The faculty of the will is numerically associated, not with the person, but with the nature. Since Christ has two natures in one person, then the belief in monothelitism constitutes a denial of these two natures (most often replaced with a single morphed nature that turns out to be neither human nor divine). Within the Trinity, the situation is reversed. Here, we want a monothelitism of sorts because the single divine nature can only be associated with a single faculty of the will.
Keep this in mind: the three persons of the Trinity possess the same faculty. In my reply to Clifton’s take on what happened in Gethsemane, I have gone so far as to claim that, before their will was actualized toward a single object, their was a brief disagreement between two persons of the Trinity as to what that object should be. This happened despite the fact that, by nature, they share the same faculty of willing. Whether or not my claim is correct is irrelevant right now. The point is the possibility of even making such a claim. It requires certain presuppositions; namely, that there exists a distinction, not only between the persons of the Trinity, but between each of these persons and the divine nature. If I identified person with nature, then there is no way that I could maintain that these persons, whose nature is numerically identical, could talk to one another, much less that they could disagree. Now, because I agree that our understanding of divine personhood should inform how we conceptualize human personhood, I map this distinction between person and nature forward onto humans.
This leads to another objection to Clifton’s backward mapping of my views of human personhood onto the Trinity. It is more difficult to demonstrate the distinction between person and nature when the ratio is 1:1 rather than 3:1. It is not legitimate to move from the more obscure to the less obscure. If, confining myself to human persons, I have not been able to demonstrate the person/nature distinction to Clifton’s satisfaction, then he must leave it at that. This is nothing more than a communications failure and there is no warrant in making it contradict what I have been able to show about Trinitarian personhood.
But Clifton will argue that my identification of person and will is proven my denial of libertarian freedom. In fact, he has: “In other words, substantive personhood makes real libertarian free will. If you hold one, I contend, you must hold the other. Obviously, I do not think Kevin’s is a substantive view of personhood, but is, if you will, a two-dimensional construct.” For Clifton, substantive personhood implies libertarian free will and libertarian free will implies substantive personhood. This is rather circular, though. And, no, I’m not referring to the “p if and only if q” aspect of his argument. I had a larger circle in mind. Specifically, this is a premise that Clifton needs to prove in order to make his argument against monergism. I don’t believe that he has succeeded, although, in all fairness, I do believe he has tried.
Let me see if I can restate the attempt. Monergism implies a denial of libertarian free will at least at the point of regeneration. Even in sanctification, which most monergists will agree is synergistic, libertarian free will is rendered impossible by the teaching that the ultimate perseverance of those who are regenerate is assured. Monergism coupled with the perseverance of the saints implies a compatibilistic view of the will. Now throw into the mix an explanation for how compatibilism works, which is that the exercise of a person’s will is always determined by his nature. But if this is true, says Clifton, then, at best, person is identified with nature if not completely superceded by it. I hope that I have captured the essence of his argument. If not, he can correct me and we’ll start over.
Now let’s try another one. Synergism implies the affirmation of libertarian free will, perhaps even to the exclusion of any example of compatibilism. Actually, let’s just get to the point. Clifton has already stated that a substantive view of personhood implies libertarian free will and vice versa. In libertarian free will, the will is not determined by the nature; consequently, there is no danger that the nature could ever supercede the person. But if the will does operate independently of the nature, then I am at a loss to explain the purpose of a nature. It is just as easy to suppose that libertarianism also equates person with nature if it doesn’t practically eliminate the nature altogether. It all depends on how you look at it.
In another thread within this overall debate, I am having a discussion with Chris as to whether or not God has libertarian free will. Chris is a fellow compatibilist, at least as far as the human will and most cases of the divine will. He claims, however, that on at least two occasions, the decisions to create and to elect, God must have exercised libertarian free will. This is because he locates the necessity for compatibilism in the decree of God, whereby he has ordained everything that comes to pass. The decisions to create and elect logically fall before the decree: there is nothing with which to be compatible. I agree as far as it goes. Chris’ account is in line with Reformed theology. It is sufficient to affirm the necessity of compatibilism between the human will and the decree of God. Overcoming agnosticism as to how, exactly, this works is not required. It is, however, possible and, in my estimation, Edwards has provided a philosophically satisfying account. If it is the case that personal action is always determined by a person’s nature, then this is true whether or not there is a divine decree with which to be compatible. The decisions to create and elect, while technically not examples of compatibilism, are also not examples of libertarianism. Despite all this, Chris’ account, if not true in my estimation, is, at least, coherent. He has provided a rational basis for believing that the possibility of libertarian free will in one case need not imply the necessity thereof in all others. And if there is no necessary connection, then Clifton’s backward mapping is once more proven invalid.
The most that can be gathered from monergism is that compatibilism is necessary in the people getting saved. It is not possible to argue that this compatibilism is part of the substance of personhood. At best, it is an accident made necessary by the fall. Not wishing to subject myself to another red herring charge, I freely admit that I do, in fact, believe that compatibilism is a matter of substance and not accident. However, while I may use this to support my monergistic tendencies, it is not possible to derive this belief from monergism itself. I state outright that none of the persons within the Trinity has libertarian free will. So even if it could be done, there’s no need to backward map my views of human personhood. Perhaps Clifton could modify his thesis from “Monergism is heresy” to “Kevin is a heretic.”
In the second part of his post, Clifton considers the essence of monergism. I do believe that the essence of monergism is about God having done everything that there is to do. Still, I must concede Clifton’s point: the practical working out of monergism cannot escape a specific view of the human will. Fair enough. Still, I must insist that this view of the will cannot be backward mapped onto the Trinity. Clifton, if he wishes to maintain his position that monergism is heresy, would probably do better with a more direct approach. I’d be willing to consider as evidence an ecumenical condemnation of the doctrine. As it is, his attempt to connect it with legitimate heresy isn’t working out all that well.
First, a statement of the obvious: my response time is slow. And now on to the post. Clifton begins his third Soteriological Sidebar in gratitude for my harmonization of Gregory of Nyssa and Athanasius. Nevertheless, from what I can tell, his interpretation of this harmonization and my interpretation are two different creatures. My account of Athanasius is this: The Son is eternally begotten of the Father and it is impossible that this could have been otherwise. I did not give any reason to believe that Athanasius taught a “not involuntary generation of the Son.”
Clifton is correct to point out that I place our respective views of the begetting of the Son within the nature/will debate. My own claim is that the eternal begetting of the Son is tied to the nature of the Father. I understand Clifton’s views of the monarche of the Father to be “the idea of God willing to beget the Son.” He objects to this because I shouldn’t be putting it in terms of nature vs. will. The proper place, as he sees it, is in the personal ekstasis of the Father. Just for the sake of argument, let’s assume that it actually is possible to transcend the nature/will distinction in favor of the Father’s person. I’m still left wondering something. Does the hypostasis of the Father beget that of the Son as a matter of definition or because he just happened to decide on it?
Bottom line- it is not possible to remove this question from the nature/will debate. But, as long as Clifton contends that it is, I have another question. What does this have to do with the larger debate? The subject is monergism and its relationship to the will. A significant ground of my own argument for monergism is the impossibility of libertarian free will. Whatever can be predicated of any person as such can be predicated of all persons. Consequently, if it can be demonstrated that the Father, a person within the Trinity has libertarian free will, then we must allow the possibility that any other person may have libertarian free will. If Clifton can demonstrate that the begetting of the Son is a matter of the Father’s will as unconstrained by his nature, he will have succeeded in shaking my own argument for monergism. Oddly enough, though, he removes the question from the nature/will debate. Which leads me to wonder just what, in his mind, the connection is. Either the Father’s begetting of the Son is a matter of libertarian free will, or, whether as an example of the will exercised according to the nature or not an example of the will at all, it is not relevant to the discussion.
Still, despite his quest for irrelevance, Clifton has not succeeded. The question of the Son’s begetting cannot be removed from the nature/will debate and, despite his objections to the contrary, Clifton’s own explanations place him squarely on the side of will. They also create a situation of far more consequence than the debate between synergism and monergism. The point of my harmonization between Gregory and Athanasius was to show that their use of the will could not be the same. The essence of Arianism is found in the proposition that there was a time when the Son was not. If this statement is true, then the Son cannot be God. If it is not, then the Son must be God.
Clifton affirms the necessity of the Father begetting the Son. He claims that this begetting is, in fact, eternal. This is, as far as it goes, orthodox. However, the necessity of which Clifton speaks is only the kind wherein that which actually is the case is necessarily the case. While this is a legitimate use of necessity, it says nothing about whether something had to be that way in the first place. Every contingent thing is necessary during its actual state of existence. But nothing says that it actually had to exist. In denying the premise presented by Chris in the comments section, that “It is not the case that the Son might not have existed,” Clifton attempts to be consistent with his view of the necessity of the Son’s generation. Even though the Son has always existed, this did not have to be the case. The distinction between this view and that of Arius is that Arius flat out denies that the Son always existed. Clifton does not, in fact, he affirms that the Son has always existed. Unfortunately for his case, however, this is an affirmation that, logically, cannot be maintained.
Clifton denies the possibility of knowing how God might otherwise have been. We cannot know, by his account, whether or not the Father might have existed without the Son. This is wrong. The actuality of the Son’s eternal existence proves the impossibility of the contrary. At the moment I am typing this (which must be distinguished from the moment anyone may be reading this) I am the only one in my immediate vicinity. There is no one that I have ever known for whom I can say with absolute certainty, “This person is currently alive.” From my limited perception of how things are at this moment, the statement, “Human person X might not exist” is true. It is not, however, true of me. I know that I’m alive right now; therefore, it is necessary that this be the case. There is no way that it might be otherwise. Even though I cannot say that I might not exist right now, I can say that I might not have existed right now. There are any number of ways that I could have been eliminated before now. Furthermore, I might not have existed at all. God could have chosen not to exercise the Kevin option. My existence could have been prevented all together.
For any point in my life, it is possible to say that I might not have existed. It is not possible, however, to pick any point from my conception up to the present moment and claim the possibility that I did not exist then. My actual existence throughout my life dictates the impossibility of the contrary. Admitting the possibility that I might not have existed is not the same as claiming the possibility that I never came into existence. Why not? Why is it that the present perfect and the simple past tense are not different means of expressing the same idea? First, I have limited the past tense to my actual existence. But I could have just given some dates. Given the propositions, “It is possible that I did not exist in 1960" and “It is possible that I did not exist in 1980" anyone who does not know me would have to agree. They may make educated guesses, but the possibility of both would remain. On the other hand, those who do know me well enough would also know whether the contrary disproved one or even both of these statement. They are, in fact, compelled to disagree with the second statement. The information content of the past tense is limited by how far back I decide to take it and by the prior knowledge of my readers as to my actual time of birth. The present perfect does not work in the same way. I cannot limit this tense to a particular time of my choosing. Instead, it latches on to a time when the contrary to my existence actually obtained. Despite appearances, the use of the past perfect here is not so much about ignorance of what might otherwise have been as it is of knowledge about what actually was the case at one time. “I might not have been” is a concept inseparable from “At one time, I wasn’t.”
If we affirm that the Son has always existed, then we cannot say that he might not have existed. If we say that the Son might not have existed, then we must affirm that he has not always existed. The denial of the proposition “It is not the case that the Son might not have existed” logically entails the proposition “There was a time when the Son was not.”