Those who have kept up with this soteriology debate will have noticed that it contains more than one strand. There is the main thesis that monergism entails the heresy of monothelitism and modalism, there is a side bar on personhood and the Trinity, and there is an in house debate on the monergistic side over whether God has libertarian free will and the nature of the fall. You might think that this last strand would detract from the debate or even undermine my own position. And you would be wrong. If a topic is worthy of debate, then that debate must be honest. The ultimate goal, after all, is to determine the truth. It is not to defend one’s position at all costs. And so when my premises are questioned by someone who essentially takes my position in the main debate, I can only count this as a good thing. So far in that strand, I haven’t been convinced. However, in a single comment to this post, which was my latest contribution to the strand on personhood, Chris has managed to demolish the argument that I made in that post. Despite the fact that I will have to re-present my case, perhaps not as effectively as I thought I had done, I still welcome Chris’ contribution to the discussion.
The substance of my post concerned Clifton’s denial of the thesis, “It is not the case that the Son might not have existed.” I was of the opinion, and still am, that this statement implies contingency and, therefore, that the Son was a creature. My strategy was to take the opposite statement- It is the case that the Son might not have existed- and show that the perfect tense structure thereof makes no sense unless it is possible to latch on to a time when the Son actually was not. Clifton had affirmed that the Son has actually existed throughout all eternity; however, the necessity that he ascribes to the Son’s existence is an eternal necessity of the present. I agree with the concept of the necessity of the present, but I do not believe that this type of necessity necessarily implies absolute necessity; that is, it can be true of a contingent being. Extending this type of necessity into eternity does nothing to change this. I believe that anything that is not absolutely necessary, but is contingent in some other sense, cannot be anything other than a creature. It appears from Clifton’s denial of the thesis that he doesn’t agree- an eternal necessity of the present is sufficient. Rather than argue directly against this point, I attempted to take the concept of the necessity of the present, combine it with the present perfect tense of the counter-statement, and demonstrate that this could not describe an eternal being. And if not an eternal being, then a creature. Clifton’s denial of the thesis would then be shown to entail Arianism.
Chris brought up the point that, although he might not have been elected, there was no time when God hadn’t made up his mind on the matter. I may have been able to get around this one by distinguishing between what is actual and what is guaranteed. It’s the other point that was fatal. It had never occurred to me that anything contingent on the will of God could be coeternal with God. But, as I thought about it, however unlikely it was that God would ever will such a thing, I had to conclude that it was not impossible. I’m not convinced that he would be able to create an eternal creature that actually did anything. Creatures, to change or do something, must exist in time. No matter where we plot point B on this creature’s timeline, it would never be able to get there from point A, which would be an infinite distance behind it. An eternal creature would have to be absolutely changeless and motionless. Basically, if God had wanted an eternal creature, he would be stuck with something like a pet rock. Still, I can’t very well approach Clifton and claim that his position can only be true if we posit that Christ is a rock in ways far more literal than Scripture ever intended. I would have to assume my conclusion that willing something into existence entails creating it. So Chris is right, Clifton’s position does not entail Arianism.
This, however, is a technicality based on the fact that Arianism claims that the Son was not eternal. Subsequent forms of semi-Arianism don’t. I am in full agreement with Chris’ own argument against Clifton’s denial of the thesis. “Necessary existence, no less than eternity, is conceptually inseparable from divinity.” I imagine that Clifton would agree, but then claim that an eternal necessity of the present is sufficient. If so, I offer for consideration God’s pet rock. I would also like to put Chris’ statement in terms of possible worlds, to, perhaps, offer another perspective. If Clifton is correct in denying the thesis, then there is at least one possible world in which the Son does not exist. It is conceptually impossible that a divine person would not exist in all possible worlds.
Chris also writes, “Although I’m sure Clifton says ‘begotten, not made’, the word ‘begotten’ is drained of its meaning when he says, ‘begotten, but not by nature.’” I agree; however, I wonder if it may not be too soon in the overall debate to make this argument to Clifton. One of the very points in question is our conception of ‘nature.’ If only we could grasp what Clifton means by it, we would readily see the error of our own monothelitist ways.
Much of this post is plagiarized from something that I wrote in a private forum. The relevant background includes an antebellum history written by a Christian pastor. It is, shall we say, out of the mainstream. From my own admittedly limited knowledge of what it actually says, my preliminary judgment is that it isn’t terribly accurate. But this could change -for instance, I could actually read it. In any event, what follows should not be read as an endorsement or a rejection thereof (for those of you who have figured out what it is). My main point of interest is the immediate and, to my mind, quasi-paranoid rejection of the history’s thesis. But as I thought about it, it seemed that this reaction was most likely the norm when any significantly different historical interpretation entered the arena. And so, prompted by a question on how people might come to an agreement concerning the truth of historical interpretations, I began to think about the nature of history and its relation both to who we are and to who we were intended to be.
History is a matter of interpretation and perspective. This doesn’t mean that anything goes. Interpretations must fit the facts and some statements passing themselves off as historical are clearly non-factual. For instance, I probably couldn’t get away with claiming that President Jackson was a NASCAR enthusiast. When speaking of history, it is important to distinguish between events in the past and the writing of history. A mere compilation of all past events would prove both overwhelming and meaningless. We must limit the number of events that we consider. Even then, if any two people are given a certain time and place from which to compose a chronology of events (we will assume that these events are accurate), their lists will not be identical. Both are true as to their parts, but the perspectives that can be drawn from each will not be the same.
When considering past events, the human mind naturally begins to construct a narrative. What is important and how do these events connect with one another? Sometimes events will be deemed important in themselves and connections made around them. At other times, once connections are started, subsequent events will be included only if they connect. A well written history is an art form. It chooses from various events and weaves these into an interesting story. Even though the fact of past events is purely objective- each one either did or did not happen, there can be no purely objective history. These facts are only comprehensible when they are explained through a subjective lens. Because history is art, it can be beautiful. Because it is subjective, it can be dangerous. A given history is just as likely to enter the public consciousness due to its elegance as due to its coherence. Perhaps even more likely. Truth and beauty are not necessarily the same thing.
Here is the importance of history: who we were determines who we are. But there is darker side to this: who we think we were determines who we think we are. If you’re in the market for power, don’t run for office; instead, write a compelling history. And, if you can settle for less power, there may still be place for you. Once a particular history is generally received, the society will begin to take on a certain shape. A social structure will be created within which exist relative positions of power. Our willingness to question the received history is, unfortunately, connected to the relative advantage it affords us.
The most important suggestion that I can offer for the question of two sides agreeing on what is historically true is that both sides refuse to judge a history based on its consequences. But this often is the first thing that people look at. Rather than asking whether the recorded events of a given history are true and whether omitted events may have significantly altered the narrative, the tendency is to go straight to the pragmatic. When it comes to debates over new views of history, I am afraid that the loudest objections have less to do with the fact that they may not be accurate and more to do with the fact that, if accepted, they would undermine and alter current social policy. This approach lacks both intellectual and Christian integrity.
Our ability as a species to understand ourselves by writing our own history is an indication that we are created in God’s image. He is the supreme author of history and has the only unbiased and exhaustive understanding thereof. We will never be able to reach his level of comprehension. We can, however, see to it that our own understanding of history is not biased by self interest. When a new history is proposed, do not reject or accept it outright. Instead, subject it to a dispassionate examination. Does it fit the known facts? Does it omit relevant facts? If we insert these, how does it change? Is it coherent? If it then fails, reject it. If not, then it needs to be integrated into the received history and the new result adjusted until it is coherent. Should this change the status quo, then so be it.
Keep these two premises in mind: God is the Author of history; and the ability to have a history accepted is a means to power. Because of its subjective and non-exhaustive nature, our understanding of history will never be complete. However, to the best of our ability, it is incumbent upon us that our narrative conforms to God’s. Consequently, to offer for consideration a history that is based on agenda rather than fact, or to fail to accept any history that is offered (for, even if an agenda is proven, it may coincidently be correct) when that failure is based on agenda rather than fact, is to be guilty of two things. 1) It charges God with being a liar by implicitly disagreeing with his narrative; and 2) it constitutes an attempted coup against God’s sovereignty.