Morphemics

Locating Free Agency

In his Inclinations, Dispositions, Motivations, Chris accurately explains my reason for denying freedom of the will in any circumstance. As he expresses my view, “...libertarian free will means, by definition, that the faculty of will– as distinct from the person– is actually making its own choices.” He then goes on to state that neither he nor, he doubts, any one else ever intended to say this. The affirmation of [libertarian] free will is nothing more than a statement that “the person choosing chooses.” And he’s right. I can’t think of any self respecting libertarian who would try to argue that a faculty, rather than a person, is doing all the choosing. But that wasn’t my point. I do recognize the validity of linguistic shortcuts and colloquial forms of speech. However, when the question itself concerns a definition of the will, it is better to be precise about what is meant. It appears to Chris that I’m quibbling here and filling my idea of the will with too many complexities. Hopefully, I will be able to offer a clearer explanation in this post and show that this is not the case.

I have described the will as a faculty that cannot move or be moved except as the person inclines it. Chris writes, “From my point of view, it looks like making a decision and inclining the will are one and the same.” I could say the same thing. In speaking of inclining the will, I am looking into just what happens when a decision is made. Reading further into his post, though, it seems that Chris and I do not mean the same thing. Evidently, he understands “inclining the will” as a figure of speech or just another way of saying “making a decision.” He writes, “To will just is to act voluntarily. The will is not acted upon by the person, for there is nothing there to act upon. What there is is an ability, not a mechanism.”

Perhaps Chris is correct, but I don’t believe that this was the Church’s view of the will when it condemned monothelitism (which is the belief that Clifton has accused monergists of holding). Recall that monothelitism is the doctrine that Christ has only one will. Considered in itself, this shouldn’t be that important, since “will” can be taken several ways. In this case, however, all parties to the controversy understood will as something associated with the natures, or, as some would have it, nature of Christ. Monothelitism was an indirect means of affirming monophysitism, i.e., the doctrine that Christ had only one nature. Had it been understood that the will was an ability, the same conclusion would not have followed. Natures do not have abilities, persons do. Consequently, rather than reflecting orthodox doctrine, Christological dithelitism would have implied Nestorianism, i.e., the doctrine that Christ was two persons. If Chris’ view of the will is correct, if there really is nothing there to act upon, then some form of monothelitism should be deemed orthodox. The important point is that the one person to two natures ratio be maintained as far as our understanding of Christology. Even so, I think that the Church had it right. The will is connected to the nature and, as such, is something that can be acted upon. “Inclining the will” is not a figure of speech for “making a decision.” It is a description of what happens when a decision is made.

Earlier in his post, Chris had mentioned a point that we both reject, which is that moral responsibility requires libertarian freedom. In denying this, however, I do not mean to imply that moral responsibility is possible for anyone other than a free agent. I affirm free agency for all morally responsible persons. Libertarians may wish to deny me the term, not only over our difference concerning compatibility with the decree of God (although, this is by no means insignificant) but also over the question of moral limitations on natural ability. When I speak of free agency, I am describing the unimpeded connection between what a person wants to do and the subsequent movement of his will toward that end. As long as a person is able to incline his will according to his desires, he is a free agent and morally responsible for whatever he may do. A person can be excused of moral responsibility for his actions, or lack thereof, if and only if something stands between his desires and the inclination of his will. An able bodied man next to a swimming pool can be blamed for not jumping in to rescue a drowning child. This is not the case if the man is lame.

Compatibilism recognizes the distinction between natural and moral inability. Chris, it appears, does as well when he writes, “I also affirm that the possibilities for how I can incline my will in a given situation (i.e., what decisions I can make) depend on what sort of a person I am. God cannot incline his will toward unrighteousness, and a sinner cannot incline his will in any direction without sinning (i.e., cannot choose good).” Here, the libertarian disagrees. True free agency, with its corresponding moral responsibility, is only the case when all possibilities for a given decision are open. Contrary to what Chris’ says further down in his post, the incompatibilist libertarian claim that libertarian free will is possible (because they are using these words to define the will as the person choosing) is not true. Nor is it the case that the force of my assertion that libertarian free will is impossible is lost against the incompatibilist. I may have conceded free agency, which is all that they mean by free will, but I have not conceded everything that the incompatibilist includes in the concept of free agency. Their idea of free agency is, in my estimation, far too broad. It is not enough that a person is able to act according to his desires, but, in order to be held morally responsible for his actions, it must have been possible for him to desire any one of the full range of natural options related to that choice.

I have placed free agency in the unimpeded connection between personal desire and the inclination of the will. The libertarian, however, does not recognize this distinction. Instead, personal desire and the inclination of the will are both wrapped up into the singular event “the person choosing.” Understandably then, free agency, for the libertarian, cannot be found in the same location. Instead, it is placed in the unimpeded connection between the person choosing and the full compliment of possible options related to that choice. Chris may claim that the possibilities for how a person inclines his will depend on what sort of person he is. However, by viewing the inclination of the will as nothing more than a figure of speech for “the person choosing,” he loses the force of any argument he may have against the libertarian that a choice from this limited range of possibilities constitutes free agency, free will, or whatever else he or they may want to call it. Any distinction that a libertarian may recognize between natural and moral inability must, for all practical purposes, be a distinction without a difference. Both prevent the individual from accessing the full range of natural possibilities. By accepting the relatively vague notion of “the person choosing,” Chris has opted to play according to non-compatibilist rules. Should the libertarian object that limitations based on nature or the sort of person one is are actually infringements of free agency; should they claim that these limitations describe, not freedom of choice, but de facto determinism, Chris has no strong counter-argument.

The relevant difference between natural and moral inability lies, not in what these are, but in whether or not they prevent a person from acting according to his desires. Natural inability, which interferes precisely at the point where personal desire would otherwise have been translated into action, is exculpatory. Moral ability and inability, on the other hand, account for who or what a person is. This, in turn, accounts for what a person is capable of desiring. If free agency is properly located in the unimpeded connection between personal desire and subsequent action, then moral inability, because it cannot affect this connection, is no impediment to free agency.

To summarize up to this point, I do not view the will as a mechanism for the mere thrill of complicating matters and defying Occam. Instead, I believe that it is better described as a mechanism rather than an ability because a) this description is more consistent with how the Church must have viewed the will when it condemned monothelitism, and b) it provides a more satisfying harmonization between free agency and compatibilism.

In an earlier post, I had conceded (and still do) to the idea that God’s choice to elect whom he elected was libertarian free in a sense that our choices and even the rest of his choices (with the arguable exception of creation) are not. That is because this choice precedes (or is a part of), and, therefore, does not need to be compatible with, the divine decree. Everything else that God does, such as actually doing something about those whom he has elected, must conform to what he has decreed. Everything that we do must and does conform to what God has decreed. That being said, conformity to the divine decree does not fully encapsulate the essence of compatibilism. Against the libertarian, who argues that free agency is only possible in the absence of all constraints, the compatibilist argues that free agency is compatible with the moral limitations of the agent himself. That which applies to one free agent rightly applies to all. If sinners should not be blamed for their sin because they are morally incapable of not sinning, neither should God, because he is morally incapable of doing otherwise, be praised for his righteousness. To get back to the point, my concession that election was a libertarian free act as far as the divine decree is concerned does not imply that it was not also an example of compatibilism. To whatever extent I have portrayed compatibilism as actions that are determined by the nature of the agent, this has been inaccurate. On the contrary, compatibilism simply means that an agent’s actions must be compatible with his nature. Libertarian choice, which can be defined as full access to all conceivable options for a given decision, is entirely possible when all of these options just happen to be compatible with the nature of the agent.

Now to Adam’s will before the fall. Contrary to most Reformed theology, which defines the fall in terms of a change in human nature and a forensic declaration of guilt, I have kept the forensic declaration but have substituted the change in human nature with the removal of the Holy Spirit. Recall that the claim launching this debate was Clifton’s assertion that monergism implies monothelitism. According to monergists, synergism in regeneration is impossible because the unregenerate man, by his very nature, cannot will the good necessary to cooperate with his salvation. The natural man cannot not sin. Since Christ has a human nature, but he cannot sin, it follows according to a monergistic understanding of human nature that Christ must be acting against his human nature. His human will has been so subdued as to be irrelevant. And so we have virtual monothelitism. The immediate Protestant response to this is to point out that Christ and other people do not have the same nature. Whereas other people have a fallen human nature, Christ’s human nature was unfallen. Problem solved.

Well, no . If there is any doctrine in which Eastern Orthodoxy has displayed a better understanding than the rest of Christianity it is in this point of Christology: that which is not assumed is not healed. If there is a substantial difference in human nature as it existed before the fall and as it exists after the fall, and if Christ did not assume the human nature that we actually possess, then his incarnation does not benefit our humanity. It cannot be the case that Christ assumed a pre-fall human nature that is not the same as that human nature, which is currently ours. Yet, to say that Christ assumed a post-fall human nature brings up another problem. According to standard Protestant understanding, which can be traced back at least as far as Augustine, our corrupted human nature constitutes original sin. We can’t very well have Christ being sinful by virtue of his incarnation. Reformed theology emphasized a concurrent concept of original sin, which was the forensic declaration of the guilt of Adam’s transgression upon all who were in him. To address the problem of Christ’s incarnation, I have suggested that we move our understanding of original sin to an exclusively forensic concept. The question of pre- or post-fall human nature is no longer relevant for the simple fact that, in the fall, no such change occurred.

We still have to account for the dispositional difference between fallen man and Adam. While it is the case that man in his natural and fallen state cannot not sin, this could not have been true of Adam. If Adam was created in such a way that he had to sin, then he was undoubtedly ill-made. For the reasons mentioned above, though, something other than a change in human nature must account for the difference. The only thing that comes to mind is to place this difference in the presence or absence of the Holy Spirit. Adam was not created in confirmed righteousness; otherwise, he could not have fallen. Instead, he was created with a nature that was compatible with a wide variety of choices. I do not believe that Adam’s nature was such that he could have kept from falling without the aid of the Holy Spirit; however, this is not a statement against the craftsmanship of his nature. Rather, it is a recognition both of design and of the necessity of the Holy Spirit to righteousness. If the Holy Spirit is necessary to righteousness, and not a mere convenience toward that end, then it is impossible for any created being to achieve an acceptable standard of righteousness without his assistance.

Other than my previously mentioned confusing account of nature determining action when I should have been speaking in terms of nature being compatible with actions, I see no reason why my understanding of Adam’s condition before the fall implies that he had to sin and was, therefore, ill-made. On the contrary, leaving aside the decree of God for the sake of argument, I believe that the choices compatible with Adam’s nature when it came to whether or not he would keep the covenant of works did, for all practical purposes, approach libertarian standards. To put it another way, the fall was among the least determined decisions in human history.

Finally, Chris has been presenting the fall in terms of Adam choosing to do something that, though good in itself, was per accidens sinful. He prefers this over the idea that Adam’s motivation was to do something sinful. I have two points of response. First, assuming that this scenario is possible, what about my account of Adam’s nature before the fall would make it impossible? All options are equally open to Adam yet he falls by choosing an option that is per accidens sinful. The second point concerns my disagreement with the distinction that Chris has made. I do see the theoretical distinction between doing something because it is sinful and having good motivations for doing something that is per accidens sinful. As I understand him, though, Chris is saying that, when Adam fell, he did not intend to sin. But I can only equate lack of intent with ignorance of the status of his action. If this was invincible ignorance, then how is God just in condemning him? As to vincible ignorance, it’s not as if God didn’t tell Adam outright what he expected. We may live in a complex society where we have to do a some digging to discover what is expected of us, but this was not true of Adam. If he didn’t know what was expected of him, then the intelligence of the clay was not substantially altered when God breathed life into it. I do not doubt that, when Adam fell, this involved good motivations towards an act that was, in itself, good. I cannot conceive of a being created by God and empowered by the Holy Spirit opting for pure evil (so Adam’s condition wasn’t that libertarian after all). Nevertheless, along with these good motivations, Adam knew what he was doing, he knew that the action he was about to take was against the express command of God, he had both the moral and natural ability not to act, and yet he chose to sin anyway. The fall was not determined and God was just in judging it as he did.

Unhelpful Epistemic Clarifications

Before dealing with the content of Clifton’s Vacuous Notes, I’d like to start with a clarification that he makes in the comments section. In an earlier exchange, Chris had offered the following syllogism:

1) It is not the case that the Son might not have existed.
2) Therefore it is not the case that the Son might not have been begotten.
3) Therefore it is not the case that the Father might not have begotten the Son.

This seems fairly straightforward. The point of the syllogism was to clarify what Clifton meant in his assertion that the Father wills to beget the Son. Is it or is it not the case that this willing is to be understood in the libertarian sense such that the Father might not have willed to beget the Son? Clifton, having stated that we have no way of knowing whether the Father might not have begotten the Son, Chris countered with his first premise. I was rather surprised at Clifton’s response. He wrote: “Your syllogism fails from the very first premise: ‘We know, 1) It is not the case that the Son might not have existed.’ In fact, we know nothing of the sort.” Chris’ response was, in my estimation, appropriate. By denying the first premise and, consequently, its conclusions, Clifton had affirmed the possibility that the Son might not have existed. And this is, for all practical purposes, Arian.

But now it looks as though this is not at all what Clifton meant. He writes, “Now this revelation to us [i.e., the Son’s revelation of the Father and of the Holy Trinity] makes it impossible for us to say that the Son might not have existed.” As it turns out, Clifton’s objection to Chris’ first premise is not over its substance but over the fact that he prefaced it with the words “We know.” Clifton’s distinction between epistemic and revelatory claims is, in the context of this discussion, about as unhelpful a tangent as anyone could have devised. Had Chris prefaced his syllogism with “We accept by faith on the basis of divine revelation” rather than “We know” the truth content of his premise would not have been affected. And this in turn should settle the question of whether the Father’s freely willing to beget the Son (per Clifton’s claim) can be understood in the sense that it could have been otherwise.

Still, Clifton cannot be completely exonerated of Arian sympathies until we consider this statement from the same exchange with Chris:

“On the other hand, if we reason that God the Father could not have done otherwise, what consequences result from that? I cannot see but that God the Father's mode of willing becomes identified with his natural will shared by all the Persons of the Trinity. But if that be the case, we are back in the realm of modalism.”

Here we have Clifton stating the negative consequences of reasoning that the Father could not have done otherwise (i.e., could have willed not to beget the Son). However, if he has problems with this point of reason, he must have equal problems with his own statement of faith, “Now this revelation to us makes it impossible for us to say that the Son might not have existed.” You can’t have it both ways. Either the Father could not have done otherwise, or the Son might not have existed. That one of these statements is presented as a matter of reason and the other as a matter of faith is irrelevant. What ultimately matters is whether or not they are true.

All those who accept the truth of Clifton’s faith statement, that we cannot say that the Son might not have existed, must also accept the truth of the premise that the Father could not have willed not to beget the Son. Assuming, then, that Clifton places a high priority on his own statement of faith, he is left with one option. He needs to rethink the connection he sees between claiming that the Father could not have done otherwise and modalism. If the Father could have willed not to beget the Son, then it is acceptable, even required, to say that the Son might not have existed. On the other hand, if we cannot say that the Son might not have existed, then we must accept the premise that God had no option in begetting the Son.

Whatever Clifton means in saying that the Father freely willed to beget the Son, this cannot include the idea of libertarian free will such that the Father could have done otherwise. For that matter, it can’t include any form of compatiblism either. Both theories of the will involve the notion of “could have done otherwise.” The only kind of willing that makes sense if the existence of the Son could not have been otherwise is one that comes after the fact. It is not a willing that causes things to happen, but one that approves of what has already happened. Yet, if this is the only kind of willing that is involved, I must admit that I have completely lost the connection to monergism and monothelitism. When I made a similar observation in my last post in this thread, Clifton responded: “Kevin’s failure to grasp the implications for monergism of Trinitarian person-nature dogma is not any proof that such a dogma has nothing whatsoever to do with monergism. It is simply prima facie evidence of the poverty of his imagination.” However, the issue is not whether there is a connection between monergism and Trinitarian person-nature dogma, but whether this connection exists between monergism and the Father willing or not willing the begetting of the Son. Barring any evidence to the contrary, I maintain that there is no connection. The well being of my imagination aside, Clifton’s response is a simple case of misdirection.

Here, I’d like to move on to Clifton’s discussion of the distinction between “the divine will [which is] the same natural will among all the Persons of the Godhead” and the “personal employment of the natural will [which] is the mode of willing unique to each person of the Godhead.” What I see described here is a distinction between the faculty of the will and the personal use of that will. God, having only one nature, there can be only one will. However, since the persons are truly distinct, both from the divine nature and from one another, there must be three different employments of that will. If I have understood Clifton correctly, then I agree with him.

It seems, however, that Clifton doesn’t think so. According to him, my argument “ultimately must conclude [that] the mode of willing is identical to the divine natural will.” Throughout his discussion, Clifton uses the Father willing to beget and the Son willing to be begotten as examples of the different modes of willing in the Trinity. And this is where Clifton gets confused. He believes that, because I had already rejected his example, I must also reject the distinction he was illustrating. This might follow, except for the fact that, by connecting the two concepts, Clifton has fallen into a category mistake. The question is not, “What does the begetting of the Son say about the personal employment of the divine will?” It is, “Does the begetting of the Son say anything about the divine will at all?” I answer that it does not.

Welcome Friendly Fire

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.

Narrowing Inclinations

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.

Inclined to Respond

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.

Intratrinitarian Disagreements

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.

Sour Notes

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.”

Divine Freedom and Human Nature

It wasn't my intention to completely drop the debate in which I had been engaged; nevertheless, there were more pressing obligations that took my time away. Since I have some of it free for awhile, I would like to continue by responding to Chris' Choice and Sin. I begin with a relatively short explanation for denying that God has libertarian free will under any circumstances and continue with a lengthier and more detailed defense of my contention that there is no difference between created and fallen human nature.

Chris begins by asking why I object to calling God's freedom libertarian. I answer that God's status as a free agent is not at issue; the operation of his will is. Granting, for the sake of argument, that the choice between creating and not creating was equal, that both of these options were so well within the boundaries of God's nature that it could not be a factor determining which choice was made, that, in effect, there was nothing prior to this choice, I would still be unable to say that this choice constituted an example of libertarian free will.

The question is not about any prior restraints on God's decision, but, whether, the decision having been made, his will could have [been] operated contrary to it. The will of any person is synonymous neither with the person nor with the the person desiring. The will is a constituent faculty of the nature. Because there is always a prior reality (i.e., the decision to act on a desire that is within the bounds of natural ability) such that the will cannot be exercised other than it has been, it follows that the will can never be "libertarian free." So long as the connection between the personal desire to act and the exercise of will remains intact the person remains a free agent responsible for his actions. Interfere at this point and personal liberty has been violated. Restrict natural ability and, even though personal liberty remains intact, personal responsibility may be mitigated

And then there is moral ability or inability, which precedes, not only the exercise of the will, but also the personal desire itself. This is where Adam comes in. Persons with perfect natures, such as God or people in heaven, are incapable of sinning. It isn't that they lack the natural ability to sin, nor is it that the connection between desire and the will is broken. Rather, they are morally incapable of desiring sin. Insofar as desire is the immediate and necessary antecedent to the exercise of the will, it is impossible that the will be exercised in a sinful direction if the desire to do so is lacking. The relative strength of one's inclinations is beside the point. The inclination to sin in someone with a perfect nature is zero. Adam sinned; therefore, Adam did not have a perfect nature. Saying that Adam had a perfect nature that was able to sin is not going to work. Perfection in this case, where the standard of comparison is the aforementioned group of people who cannot sin, is an absolute quality admitting of no degree. The most we might say about Adam before the fall is that the liklihood of his sinning was considerably less than that of post-fall humanity. If we do, though, it will be necessary to account for his diminished capacity (or our increased capacity) to sin.

The first candidate is environment. Our circumstances are inferior to those that existed in the garden of Eden; consequently, we are more likely to sin at any given time. Yet, while I will not deny a demonstrable link between environment and sinful acts, I will deny that such an environmental change constitutes the essence of the fall. If it did, then we would be forced to conceive of sin in the shallowest of terms. The only real power in the environment to affect sin is found in its enhancement or restriction of natural ability. Its power consists solely in external restrictions on the exercise of the will. It has no effect on moral ability. A theology that locates the fall in the environment has failed to address the desires of the heart. But this is where moral culpability is located- in that which is immediately prior to the exercise of the will. It only matters that this internal desire is necessary for the will to function. That it may be insufficient to affect the will due to external restrictions on natural ability is beside the point (by the same token, when the internal moral desire is to do good, failure to act is not blameworthy if this failure results from restrictions on natural ability).

There is an even greater problem with explaining our fallen state in terms of environmental factors. One's view of the fall is directly related to his view of salvation. If our sin problem is due to the environment, if it is explained by the fact that, in Adam, we lost access to the garden, then the solution is to change the environment. Whether found in the social gospel of theological liberalism or in the cultural transformationalism of neo-Calvinism the underlying assumption is the same-- salvation is found in the efforts of fallen humanity to recreate Eden out of their natural condition. But even if such a return were possible, I do question the value of a salvation that includes the possibility of falling again.

Our fallen condition needs to be explained, not in terms of the relative strength of our natural ability to sin, but in terms of our moral inability not to sin. The problem of sin is found neither in the environment nor in a faulty connection between the desire and the will. The blameable location of sin is found in the heart before the will is ever exercised. Sinful man, although free to will anything that falls within his natural ability, is actully unable to will the good because he is incapable of desiring the good. While natural inability may mitigate guilt, moral inability does not.

Salvation is insufficient unless it results in the perfection of moral ability; that is, it must result in the inability to desire and therefore to will evil. Because it involves a change in that which is necessarily prior to the will it cannot result from an exercise of the will. The will, because it never has libertarian freedom with respect to the antecedent desires of the heart, would be incapable of so exercising unless the change had already taken place. The only hope for salvation is found in the external and supernatural act of God in changing that which is inaccessible to the human will.

If the solution to the fall must be supernatural, then the cause of the fall could not have been anything that might be fixed naturally. Environment as the explanation for the human propensity to sin is out. And here we come to an explanation of the fall that does require a supernatural solution-- Posit a fundamental difference between human nature as created and human nature as fallen. This is, in fact, the standard orthodox account and one which I was always willing to accept. Nevertheless, as is evident by the fact that we are even having this conversation, I have changed my mind. To see why, allow me to examine the presuppositions behind this view.

First, Adam was created as he was intended to be throughout eternity. That is to say, there will be no difference between human nature as it will be in heaven and human nature as it was created. Salvation is the supernatural restoration of what was lost. The fact that we will not sin in heaven is due more to the removal of the object of probation than to the fact that we will possess an inate inability to sin, which Adam did not have. Had Adam not sinned, he would not have fallen but would have remained in the same condition in which he was created.

Still, this notion suffers from the same problem as environmental views of the fall. Environment is only able to restrain natural ability as far as willing sin. It has no ability to control the internal desire. And if Adam had the internal desire, as evidenced by the fact that he did sin when given the chance, there is no reason to suppose that anyone possessing Adam's nature would necessarily be free of that desire, even though he would never have the opportunity to exercise his will accordingly. The solution to this is to see Adam's probation as a test. If he passes, nothing more need be done. He's just fine as is. If he fails, then his salvation, in order to be eternally effective, must include an improvment on his nature as created. While this is an improvement over the idea that there is no difference between human nature as created and as redeemed, I am uncomfortable with the idea that this difference only comes into play if Adam falls. It's as though the creation of man was such an enormous endeavor that God would need at least two attempts to get it right. This view would rightly fall under Chris' objection that nothing God makes is ill-made.

There is, I believe, a better way. The WCF refers to Adam's probation as a condition or a "Covenant of Works." Implicit in this terminology is the notion that Adam is working, not to retain what he has, but to gain what he does not have. In other words, there is a real difference between created human nature and human nature in the heavenly state, but this difference is a part of God's original intent for man. Salvation goes beyond restoring what man once had and gives him everything that unfallen man could have gained. The end of our salvation is not described by the condition in which Adam was created but by the condition for which he was created.

In securing our salvation, Christ does two things. First, he pays the penalty for sin that is ours due to the fall. But this can only bring us back to our original condition. To gain for us what Adam might have had, Christ must also fulfill the terms of the Covenant of Works. Since Christ has done all that is possible for our salvation his righteosness is imputed to us in justification. However, contrary to what many in the Reformed community may think, forensic imputation is not the end of the story. Even though the declaration of God grants us the right to have our nature translated into a state of perfection, it can do nothing to actually effect the change. This comes about, not from what Christ does, but from who Christ is. He is the incarnate Son of God. The purpose for which man was created goes beyond the perfection of human nature. It is eternal communion with the triune God as a result of being made partakers of the divine nature. While the necessary and logical distinction between the Creator and his creatures must always remain intact, we are, nonetheless, destined for apotheosis.

Even if Adam had fulfilled the Covenant of Works, thereby making it unnecessary for Christ to fulfill it himself or to pay the penalty for sin, it still would have been necessary for the Son of God to take on human nature. The most that we could hope for in an unfallen world without the incarnation is that the Holy Spirit would perform a supernatural work of glorification and thereby render us morally incapable of desiring sin in any form. Yet, while this is a desireable goal, it isn't all that God had in mind. The Holy Spirit is the supernatural agent of our glorification; nevertheless, it is not sufficient to our chief end that he glorify our human nature as it was created. Rather, he must glorify our human nature as it has been united to the second person of the Trinity in the incarnation.

There is, then, a fundamental change in our human nature from creation to final apotheosis. The work of a man, namely, the Federal Head, sets this change in motion. It is not, however, sufficient. There must also be the declaration of the Father, the hypostatic union of the Son, and the glorifying work of the Holy Spirit.

This is as far as I dare go with this line of thought for fear of taking the discussion completely off track. I have spoken of the change that exists between human nature as created and as originally intended along with what is necessary to effect that change. All this by way of contrast with what I have denied, which is that there is no difference between created human nature and fallen human nature. My first argument is this: any fundamental change in our nature, while it may be conditioned by human works, is ultimately supernatural; that is, its final cause can only be found in the direct intervention and work of God. This is fine if we are talking about a sanctifying change. It is, however, an entirely different matter for God to recreate human nature into that which, by design, necessitated sin.
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I am well into writing more in defense of my views on human nature; however, since it is too late in the evening to finish, I will consider this a natural breaking point and save it for the next post.

Motives for the Fall

Chris begins his response by agreeing that "God did not transcend his nature when he decided to create." Yet, he follows this up by claiming that God exercised libertarian freedom on the occasion of creation. Many of God's actions are predetermined by his own word. As an example, it is not an option for God to forgo the second advent. At some point, however, we arrive at a point where God is not so constrained. He could have decided not to come at all. Chris has identified creation as one of these points where God's decision is equally unconstrained. I won't argue the point; however, I do object to calling this 'libertarian freedom.'

My objection is not to the notion that here God is acting as an absolute free agent. It is that this free agency does not costitute an exercise of libertarian free will. The will itself is a faculty. No matter how we answer the question of the relation between person and nature, whether a person must act in accordance with his nature, it is still the case that the person's faculty of choosing is limited by what the person desires to do. [Yes, I could have replaced 'desire' with 'will,' but this is an altogether different sense of the word. In the larger context of this discussion, which includes Clifton's claim that monergism implies monothelitism, I am concerned to identify precisely the kind of will of which Christ has two.]

I do reject Chris' assertion that deliberation does not involve "taking action that might indirectly fix my inclinations upon a final choice." Nor do I have any problem seeing this as a side effect. Chris writes, "When I deliberate 'should I go left or right' the content of my deliberation is not 'should I increase/decrease the strength of this or that inclination of my will?' The content of my deliberation is simply 'should I decide to go left or right?' And it seems I can directly make this decision, without first altering the relative strengths of my inclinations." I won't argue appearances. In fact, I can't recall a time in my own deliberations when I thought of them as "altering the relative strengths of my inclinations." Nevertheless, if it is the case that the will is exercised according to strongest inclination, then deliberation either alters the relative strengths of the inclinations or it is unrelated to the final decision. What may seem to be happening at the moment is beside the point. As to Chris identifying some cases of deliberation as consent rather than choice, I disagree. Deliberation is a cognitive act. Once he has found himself deliberating, it is a matter of choice whether or not to continue. And I fail to see the efficacy of any deliberations that are accomplished before he's aware of them.

Chris effectively demonstrates that 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. But that point was already established once I accepted 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:". Assuming that he accepts the confession at this point, I leave it to Chris to demonstrate how identifying such a chain of events (in which the only thing necessitated is Adam's faculty of choosing) makes any less likely the subsequent portion, which reads-"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."

I have made the claim that Adam's nature before the fall was just that of any believer after the fall. While I doubt that Adam's motives for the act that caused him to fall were "just because it was wrong," it would not surprise me to find that these motives were what we would now term 'sinful.' This would not be possible under the traditional view that the fall involved a change in nature or constitution. But this is no longer true if the fall is seen as nothing more than a change in forensic status.

One reason I have given for denying any change in Adam's nature after the fall is that a perfect nature before the fall is incompatible with the will always operating according to its strongest inclination. Such a will would have no inclination to sin. Chris ends his post by listing possible ways in which " the tree of the knowledge of good and evil [was] more attractive than any other at the moment when Adam and Eve sinned." Nothing he mentions- proximity to the tree when the Serpent came along, curiosity, or the desire for knoweldge- serves to refute Edward's thesis. These can be read as a litany of strongest inclinations. On the other hand, they fail to explain how someone with a perfect nature could have sinned. Chris, as would any one else, may feel more inclined to eat what is placed before him than any thing else. Nevertheless, the analogy is somewhat lacking. If Chris had been told by a credible source, "This steak is for someone else," then his eating it anyway would have evidenced his sin nature. If Pandora had had a perfect nature, the box would have remained shut.

Masks and Modes

Clifton provides several points to consider in the conclusion of his Till...We Have Faces:

But given all these, to me, logical entailments of his position, then his denial of equating personhood with nature, while genuine and sincere, cannot follow from his own understanding of nature and will. Indeed, if we map these entailments onto God we end in modalism, and if onto Christ, we end in monotheletism. But if Kevin gives up his monergistic schema, and adopts hypostatic personhood, he can preserve that which he seeks to maintain.

Concerning those "logical entailments," Clifton writes, "I am, perhaps, overstating the case somewhat, ascribing to Kevin an Aristotelian notion of personhood that he doubtless will reject. But I wonder if he doesn't see what I take to be the logical entailments by which I reach my conclusion." Let's just say that my imagination does have its limits. His connections are rather weak. Clifton has spent most of his post trying to show that I do equate personhood and nature. He reasons from this that my view of personhood must be prosoponic and then goes on to map such a position onto God and Christ. If I want to maintain my position, then my only consistent theological options are modalism and monothelitism, which, of course, are heresies. Finally, Clifton blames my difficulties on my monergistic schema. If I would just abandon this view then all problems would be solved.

From what I can tell, Clifton's understanding of my view of personhood is colored by an unspoken assumption; namely, that substantive personhood is only possible where there is libertarian free will. He writes:

I will grant that Kevin can make an argument for ultimate moral responsibility for a will that is free only insofar as it is constrained by its nature--though I, myself, find such arguments thin--but I fail to see how his understanding of personhood can be hypostatic as opposed to prosoponic. The person here seems to me to be only in such a way as to instantiate a particular human nature. It is the will of the nature that does all the work. The person, even if real in a certain way, is little better than a name by which is identified a particular instance of a nature.

Clifton is mixing up personhood as an instantiation of a particular nature with a prosopon. At first, the identification of these concepts is acceptable being, perhaps, only a matter of semantics. The substance of Clifton's response to me is an an argument that I regard personhood as an instantiation of a particular nature. Any prosoponic references are to be understood in this sense: as a name for the instantiation of a particular nature. But when, after arguing for what he believes my postion to be, he tries to show that it ends in modalism by mapping it onto God, Clifton has thrown in an unwarranted equivocation for the use of prosopon. If I believed that a nature and a person were the same thing or even if I subscribed to hypostatic personhood but believed that the relationship between the hypostasis and the ousia was such that there could only be a one to one correspondence, this would not be enough to convict me of modalism. At most, mapping these views onto God would result in unitarianism, that is, a denial of the Trinity. While modalsim also denies the Trinity, it offers the added bonus of trying to explain God's manifestation as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit in terms of various modes or masks. Hypostasis and prosopon are not set against each other in either/or fashion; rather, a single hypostasis manifests himself at various times in one of three prosopa. Whether or not there is too close an identity between hypostasis and ousia is irrelevent to the concept of a prosopon in modalism.

[Clifton also claims that mapping the identification of personhood and nature onto Christ results in monothelitism. This is a possible result, but certainly not necessary. Monothelitism will only be the case if this identification of personhood and nature results in monophysitism. But it could just as easily result in a form of Nestorianism. Both positions begin with too close an identification between hypostasis and ousia. However, while the one starts from the single hypostasis and concludes a single ousia, the other starts from two ousiai and assumes two hypostases. The prosopon is introduced, not on the monophysitist side, but on the Nestorian side. Just as in modalism, prosopon and hypostasis are not set in opposition to one another. Rather, the incarnation results in two hypostases and two ousiai (each hypostasis being associated with its own ousia) appearing together under a single prosopon.]

Clifton's attempt to map my views of personhood onto God and Christ is, at best, backward. Consider the charge of modalism. In light of my interpretation of Jesus' prayer in the garden, this cannot be the case. Whereas Clifton has presented the statement, "Not my will but yours be done," as an interplay between the two wills of Christ- human and divine, I have presented it as an example of the Second Person of the Trinity talking to the First Person of the Trinity. Whatever legitimate criticisms anyone may have for this interpretation, "modalistic" is not one of them. No modalist is going to claim that one person of the Trinity can have a meaningful conversation with another person of the Trinity. In fact, modalists interpret all of the prayers of Christ in precisely the same way that Clifton has interpreted the prayer in the garden: Jesus' human nature is praying to his divine nature. But this interpretation has its own set of problems, which can be seen if I turn the tables and map Clifton's understanding of human willing onto Christ. I will agree with Clifton that willing, of any kind, is a function of personhood rather than nature. Note carefully, however, that I do not predicate the same thing of the will. Willing and the will are not identical. The one is a conscious act perfomed by a person. The other is the the faculty of choosing. As far as I have been able to tell, Clifton's primary mistake is found in confusing the two. He has applied dithelitism, not to the faculty of choosing, but to conscious desire. Go back to his objection to monergism (or, more specifically, to the compatibilist views of the will underlying some forms of monergism) and to his interpretation of Jesus prayer in the garden. Monergism = practical monothelitism. Why? Because, if it is the case that human nature is such that the human will cannot cooperate with the divine will, then, even if Christ technically had two wills, his human will must have been suppressed so that only his divine will was functional. Clifton's solution? Posit libertarian free will. Which is fine except that he takes the concept far too literally. Rather than granting Christ libertarian freedom as to his person, he gives this libertarian freedom to his human will. Thus, when Jesus prays, "Not my will but yours," his human will, instead of being involuntarily suppressed as [supposedly] would be the case if compatibilism were true, submits itself to his divine will in a libertarian free act. This presents a problem. The issue is not whether the human will of Christ had libertarian freedom but that Clifton has even allowed for the possibility. It would be just as bad if he believed that the human will of Christ had compatibilist freedom. These are options predicated, not of the faculty of choosing, but of a person. If the human will of Christ is capable of free submission to Christ's divine will, then, it is not a faculty of choosing but is the conscious exercising of choice. On this reading, Christ's human will has done something that is only meaningful as a function of personhood. In order for Christ's wills to function in the manner that Clifton has predicated- either freely submitting or requesting submission, each will must have its own hypostasis. How this understanding of the interactions between the wills of Christ is not Nestorian is beyond my ability to explain.

Finally, there is the matter of monergism. Even though Clifton only mentions it in the last paragraph of his post, it is the main topic of the series. He wants to identify monergism as heresy; however, his focus is too narrow- specifically, the relation between monergism and the will. In any event, the will does not become a primary factor in the defense of monergism until we get to the intra-Protestant debate between Calvinism and Arminianism. Here, the question concerns the relationship between faith and regeneration. What is the order? For the Calvinist, regeneration precedes faith. In Reformed theology, faith alone is the instrument of our justification. The order, then, is regeneration, faith, justification. This should not be taken to imply that faith is something that we must do in order to be justified. No one who is not justified is saved; however, all who are regenerated are saved. It is not the case that, of the those who have been regenerated, some might fail to exercise faith and thus fail to be justified. This is not so much a temporal order of conditions as it is a logical order of results. Faith, which is sufficient for us to be declared righteous, is the necessary evidence of our regeneration. Regeneration results from our union with Christ in his death and resurrection. We are regenerated because he is risen. This union results in our actual righteousness, which, before the return of Christ exists in an already/not yet state and which, after his second advent, will be made complete. Justification is the legal declaration that this righteousness is the case. Faith is the instrument of the legal declaration and not of our actual possession of righteousness. The actual possession of righteousness is that, without which, faith cannot be exercised. Once regeneration has occurred, the question of our salvation is settled. Because we have nothing to do with that regeneration, salvation is monergistic.

Staying within Protestantism, I'd like to consider the Arminian side. First, though, I need to narrow it down a bit. The term "Arminian" has come to include a broader category than may be historically justified. As a result, it is often used to mean any non-Calvinistic Protestant. This can cover anything from a full-blooded Pelagian to a terminologically challenged Calvinist. Historical Arminianism is synergistic and teaches that it is possible to lose one's salvation. One simply stops doing that which he did to obtain salvation. If that thing is exercising faith, then the explanation for apostatization is that someone who no longer believes what he did believe at one time. The Calvinist, on the other hand, would explain apostatization as evidence that faith was never present in the first place. Having said this, I'm not concerned with Pelagianism or historical Arminianism. My focus in on that group of Protestants who, with the Calvinists, believe that salvation can never be lost, but, against the Calvinists, believe that faith precedes regeneration. [This group can be further divided into those who teach "easy-believism" or "Lordship salvation." Other than noting that the former has some serious sanctification problems, I will leave it at that since what they have in common is more important to this debate.]

It is in reference to this group, and this group only, that the issue of total inability of the will becomes primary in a discussion of monergism. [Even then, there is the question of whether we are even talking about monergism at all.] Within these confines, all sides are agreed that justification is by faith alone. Now the question is whether faith is seen in opposition to works or as the only work that justifies. Logically, the belief that faith is the one work that we bring to our salvation would seem to follow from the proposition that faith precedes regeneration. However, many, if not most, who hold to this proposition would also deny this conclusion. And here is where I think monergism.com is, perhaps, being a bit unfair. On the one side, "work" is defined as that which I do prior to regeneration. On the other, "work" is defined as that which takes some effort on my part. The parameters of monergism can, perhaps, be a bit too exclusive. It should not be a matter of Calvinsim alone = monergism. Even if all the points don't add up exactly, if someone confesses monergism, we should, as far as possible, take his word for it. For, if we are agreed that faith is the sole requirement for justification, we cannot add onto this the requirement that we understand everything that that faith entails. It is sufficient that we have it. When Paul writes that our salvation by grace through faith is "not a result of works, so that no one may boast," he is talking about legitimate boasting.

Where Calvinism is in dialogue with those whose most significant soteriological difference is the order of regeneration and faith, there we can start talking about total inability. Whether they see themselves as synergists or monergists our answer is the same. The unregenerate are dead in their sins and are, therefore, unable to comprehend what the object of their faith should be. They cannot will to have faith because they cannot see what it is that they are supposed to believe. As I said, though, this is an intra-Protestant debate. The end result is that not all monergists believe in total inability of the unregenerate will. Most are quite happy to affirm libertarian free-will. If Clifton is going to attempt a connection between monergism and monothelitism, he will have to limit his critique to Calvinistic monergism. Since I consider myself a Calvinistic monergist, I will not attempt to duck his criticisms of my beliefs based on the fact that other monergists have different views of the will. My point here is that Clifton's explanation for just how monergism is heresy cannot serve as a blanket critique of all monergists. Clifton is certainly free to modify this discussion into the claim that Calvinism is heresy due to an alleged connection to monthelitism. If, however, he wants to maintain the thesis that monergism is heresy, he will have to explain why it is heretical to believe that faith in the finished work of Christ, no matter how that faith is conceived, is the only requirement for justification.

While belief in the total inability of the unregenerate to exercise faith is sufficient to a conclusion of monergism, it is not necessary. That which separates monergists from undisputed synergists is not found in our respective views of the will, for many monergists and synergists are agreed about the will. Monergism is not predicate on a human inability to cooperate with divine grace. It is not a matter of what anyone might be willing to do in order to help out in their own salvation. For the sake of argument, let me agree with the most un-Calvinistic of monergists and deny both total depravity and total inability. I will only affirm that everyone is sinful enough to stand in need of salvation. What is it then that makes synergism impossible? It is this and only this: everything that can be done has been done. As I have stated before, monergism is not the denial of a synergy between the human and the divine in the work of salvation. This synergy is found in the incarnate Word. The triune God has done everything necessary for our salvation. Even if we wanted to contribute, even if Calvinists were completely wrong and the will were not an issue, monergism would still be true for the simple fact that, when it comes to our salvation, there is nothing left for us to do. All of these discussions about the will and its relation to soteriology, Christology, and Trintitarian theology are fine in their own right and worthy of debate. Yet, inasmuch as they do not address the deeper point of monergism, which is not about the will, they have nothing to do with Clifton's thesis that monergism is heresy.

Appetites and Inclinations

Chris has entered the discussion by objecting to my acceptance of Edwards' thesis that "For any given decision, the will will always choose according to its strongest inclination at the moment of decision." Related to this, he also rejects my claim that a person can never transcend his nature unless we posit a metanature; and he rejects my hypothesis that "Adam's natural inclinations before the fall were essentially the same as those of the redeemed before glory." I'd like to address these in order after acknowledging some points of agreement. First, that Edwards' thesis is "not required by Reformed theology or by Scripture." I believe it to be compatible with both but I certainly have no intention of making adherence thereunto a matter of orthodoxy. I am content that those who adhere to Reformed theology acknowledge both that man is a free moral agent and that God has decreed whatsoever comes to pass. They need offer no explanation for how these two truths fit together. On the other hand, I do not believe that Reformed theology is compatible with a consistent libertarian view of the will. Such a view is not even compatible with the notion that God knows everything that will happen in advance, much less with the notion that he decrees everything that will happen.

I also agree with Chris' account of the reprobate's inability to do good. He writes, "They may choose a lesser sin over a greater, they may choose to do the right thing for the wrong reason, and may thus live in a way that is, as far as externals go, morally admirable, but all the while they act from ungodly motives and thus their apparently good works are in fact sins." And with his distinction between "what is possible for me and what is in my power." This is the same distinction, and quite a bit clearer, as that between what I have called natural and moral ability (I don't recall if this is Edwards' terminology or not, it's been a number of years since I read his book). More accurately, when it comes to total depravity, this should be natural ability and moral inability. Or, to put it in terms of power and possibility, it is within the power of the reprobate to do good but it is not possible for them to do so. They are judged, not on the basis of moral inability, but on the basis of what is in their power due to a complete possession of all the necessary faculties. On the other hand, Christ, during his first advent, had all of the necessary faculties for commiting evil but it was not possible for him to do so. He had what might be termed an "immoral inability" (not that anything about him was immoral, just that he was unable to do immoral deeds).

Against my claim that a person can never transcend his nature unless we posit a metanature, Chris writes, "The ability to make choices beyond what our natures determine does not require positing a metanature. There is no contradiction involved in saying that it is our nature to be able to sometimes transcend our nature." But then, the example he provides does not support his objection, "For instance, as mammals, it is our nature to reproduce sexually, but as intelligent beings, it is our nature to be able to come up with non-sexual means of reproduction and transcend our animal nature." Either our nature as intelligent beings stands as a metanature in relation to our animal nature or our nature is better described as an intelligent animal, in which case, we have transcended nothing. Chris continues, "As appetitive creatures it is our nature to follow our strongest inclinations, but as creatures with a free-will, it is our nature to be able to choose to follow a weaker inclination over a stronger." Here, Chris has confused "inclination" with "appetite." He does the same thing in his discussion of two or more conflicting desires. But neither an appetite nor a desire is synonymous with an inclination of the will, although both may serve as factors when it comes to inclining the will.

I need to stop here and clarify just what the will is. The will is nothing more or less than the faculty of choosing. It is not the thing chosen, nor is the various items subject to deliberation before a decision is reached. While both of these constitute legitimate uses of the term "will," the word as it is used in Edward's thesis refers to the faculty of choosing. This faculty, as are all of our faculties, is a part of our nature, which is why monothelitism was rejected. Both God and humans are able to choose by virtue of their respective natures. Since Christ had two natures, it follows that he had two faculties of choosing. Had Constantinople III taken will in the sense of the thing chosen, or had it taken the ability to will as belonging directly to the person instead of being a faculty of the person's nature, then it would not have rejected monothelitism. Although we may speak of the will willing, this should not be confused with the idea that the faculty of choosing has its own ego. In like manner, I can say that my eyes see. But this is not entirely accurate. I see by virtue of my faculty of sight. Even so, I will something by virtue of my faculty of choosing.

If we were by nature nothing more than appetitve creatures, then following our strongest inclination would be the same as following our strongest appetite. But we are not. We have the ability to supress or even to reject our strongest appetite. However, it does not follow from this that we have supressed the strongest inclination upon our faculty of choosing. When considering two or more conflicting desires, Chris said, "I can see no reason to think that I must always follow the strongest one. On the contrary, it seems that whenever I make a decision, my very act of deliberation presupposes that my inclinations need not determine my action." No, the only thing to we need to presuppose is that the strongest desire need not incline the will to action. This does not mean that when a voluntary action has occurred that the will will not have been exercised according to its strongest inclination at the moment of decision. As to the act of deliberation itself, note what Chris has rightly called it. Deliberation is an "act." What is more, it is a voluntary act. As such, it does not precede but follows the will. Essentially, my act of deliberation does not presuppose "that my inclinations need not determine my action." Rather, it presupposes that the inclination to deliberate was the strongest factor influencing my will at the moment it was exercised. I will stop deliberating when the inclination to deliberate becomes weaker than the inclination to make up my mind for a particular option (A or non-A). None of this makes deceptive the phenomenon of making a decision. Deliberation can have a very real effect on a subsequent choice. Through deliberation, we are able to manipulate the strength of our inclinations concerning that choice. Deliberation can allow me to choose against my strongest appetite or desire. Assuming, that is, that this is even relevant. The fact that I have a strong desire does not imply that I am in any position to fulfill that desire (which is why I reject the idea that our strongest desires are equal to the strongest inclinations of our wills).

I move now to Chris' rejection of the hypothesis that Adam's natural inclinations before the fall were essentially the same as those of the redeemed before glory. In making this claim, I do not mean to suggest that environment or habituation to evil are not factors, even though I do reject these as the sole factors explaining our propensity toward sin. I am not concerned with Adam's habit before the fall, only with an account for how he could have fallen. If his nature was perfectly good, if the will always wills according to its strongest inclination at the moment of decision, if a person with a perfectly good nature cannot have an inclination toward evil, much less a strongest inclination thereto, then we are at a loss to explain how a perfectly good agent willed to do evil. My claim is that Adam was not created perfectly good, at least, not in the sense with which this concept is usually invested. Yes, Scripture does state that God saw everything he had created, including man, and that it was good. But we need to keep the pronouncement in context. The created order exists in two different realms: the eternal, eschatological realm and the temporal earthly realm. The bulk of Genesis 1 is about the creation of the the second realm, which is characterized in its initial state as "without form and void." The creation of man belonged to this second realm with the intent that he would be recreated into the first. Redemption is not only about reversing the fall and restoring what we had. It's goal is much higher. Redemption is about giving us what Adam could have gained but failed to get. We cannot take the pronouncement of "good" on this realm of creation and invest it with all the meaning that the same pronouncement would have concerning the eternal realm.

No matter how you look at, since Adam did fall, it follows that he was created such that he could fall. While this does mean that he was not created with the perfection of the heavenly realm, it does not mean that he was "bad or corrupt or ill-made." Chris writes, "Since God created them good, their desire to obey him was stronger than their desire for what was pleasing to the eye and good for food." I don't think this necessarily follows, but it's still possible so I'll accept it. This only brings us back to the earlier point that the strongest desire is not always synonymous with the strongest inclination of the will at the moment of decision. It is within man's ability to overcome a strong desire with reason and thereby act against it. Oftentimes this works to his advantage. There are other times when his reasons are corrupt and sinful. I must reject Chris' claim that "What was evil was their choosing to follow the desire for the lesser good." I agree with the idea that the object chosen was good insofar as God had created it. I also agree that God gave them a desire for what is pleasing to the eye and good for food. However, since every tree yielding edible fruit fell under this category, this cannot be the deciding factor in determining the morality of their choice. When eating of any other tree there was no choice between the greater good of obeying God or the lesser good of eating what was pleasing- they did both. This lesser good remained a constant factor no matter what tree they ate from. We need to explain the fall in terms of what was different. The fall was not the result of choosing a lesser good but the result of flat out disobedience. We cannot reconcile Adam's fall with his supposed perfect nature by trying to look on the bright side of things.

Overall, I agree with Chris' postulate that "Adam and Eve had freedom of decision in the garden to sin or not to sin." I just reject his explanation. Nothing about my hypothesis that Adam's natural inclinations were the same as those of the redeemed before glory can be construed to conclude that "God made human nature such that its strongest desire would of necessity lead it into sin." I've already addressed the difference between desire and inclination of the will, but another common assumption may be hidden behind this charge. The prohibition given to Adam against eating of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil has been understood in two different ways, even within Reformed theology. One of these is perpetual. That is, for as long as Adam did not eat of this tree, he would live. As soon as he did, however, he would fall. Under this rubric, saying that Adam's nature was the same as ours is a virtual guarantee that he would fall. None of us is able to go very long without sinning. On the other hand, this prohibition can also be understood as a temporary probation, which is how I take it. If Adam fails this test, he and all his posterity fall; if he passes, he merits eternal life for all of his posterity. This way it is not a matter of God setting us up for a fall, for we often are able to obey in particular circumstances. Adam's probation was not rigged. While it is true that Adam necessarily followed his strongest inclination, which was for eating the fruit, it is not the case that this inclination necessarily had to be. Adam's nature as created made it a possible inclination, but other factors contributed both to actualizing this inclination and to making it the strongest at the moment he chose to eat of the fruit, not the least of which was his own deliberation. The bondage of the faculty of choosing to its strongest inclination at the moment of decision is not at all incompatible with the ability of a moral agent to make a free decision.

Of Wills, Words, and the Monarche

I have been trying to draw some connection between Clifton's Trintitarian musings and the broader topic of this debate, which is the supposed heretical nature of monergism and its relation to the will. Despite an introduction that continues to discount strict logical constistency when engaged in "God talk", this post does provide a bit more substance on which to base a response. Even so, I can't guarantee that I'm going to make the connection that Clifton was intending. Consequently, the first part of this post may miss the point. If so, I beg the reader's indulgence and, perhaps, Clifton will clarify things for another attempt. In the first part, I will try to restate what Clifton is saying in the context of the broader discussion. In the second, I'd like to consider his Trinitarian views in themselves and answer some of the objections he has to mine.

It is Clifton's thesis that monergism is heresy. He focuses on total depravity, which is that aspect of man's fallen nature denying to him any ability to cooperate in his own salvation. On the premise that Christ's human nature must be the same as that which man now has (otherwise he could not heal what man now has), Clifton argues that Christ's human will must have been surpressed in order for Christ, as a human, never to have acted in opposition to the divine will. This is because, by nature, Christ's human will should have been prone to the same lack of cooperation as anyone else's will. The effect of this, as Clifton sees it, is practical monothelitism. I won't repeat the responses to this particular point, other than to say that there is reason to disagree. If monergism requires such a view of the will, and if this view leads to monothelitism, then the logical course would seem to point toward another view of the will in order to avoid heresy. Now, the question isn't merely what it takes for synergism to be true, but what it is for a person to have any meaningful exercise of the will.

As far as I can tell , both Clifton and I are in agreement that what is true of one person in this regard, must be true of all persons- human, angelic, and divine. Therefore, if I say that we will according to our natures, then I must also grant that this is the case with the persons in the Trinity. On the other hand, if Clifton can show that, for at least one person of the Trinity, it is the case that the person exceeds its nature such that his will is not according to that nature, then the same possibility must be admitted of all persons. The force of the compatibilist argument is lost since it maintains the impossibility of exercising the will in any other way than according to one's nature. To this end, Clifton posits a model for divine unity that is based, not on the God's nature or the divine essence, but upon, what he has termed, "the monarche of the Father."

The unity of the Trinity is understood, not as a matter of essence, but as a matter of source. That source is a person; namely, the Father. The Father begets the Son and sends forth the Spirit. But then, those who understand the divine unity as a matter of God's nature agree that the Father does this, so there must be more to it. Clifton writes:

But, as St. Gregory [of Nazianzus] has shown, there is no need to preserve God's unity in terms of his essence. The unity of God is preserved in the monarche of the Father. His eternal act of begetting and sending forth is a sacrificial act of love which communicates his divinity, but which because it is a Personal act, is not merely the bequeathing of a nature, but a generation and procession of respective Persons. That is to say, the Son is not a Person in the sense that he receives the Father's personal nature, but because the act of God in begetting is an act of his Person, him who is begotten is a Person, but a Person who has fully the nature of the one begetting him. So, too, for the Spirit, in terms of the act of procession.

Note that begetting and sending forth are considered as an act of sacrificial love. Each is "an act of his Person," and it is on this basis that the one begotten or sent forth is also a person. Earlier, Clifton had said of my own view that it "radically abridges God's freedom. For if it is God's nature to enhypostatize that nature, he cannot but do so, else he is not true to his nature, and thus not God." It seems clear then that, for Clifton, begetting and sending forth can be attributed to the Father's personal will and are not to be considered as results of his nature. Now, how does this relate to the larger point?

Recall that Clifton's claim is that person exceeds nature. This must be in such a way that the actions of a person are in no way bound by his nature; otherwise, this particular claim of monergism is not invalidated. But is it the case that the monarche of the Father, as Clifton as described it, is an example of person exceeding nature in this way? I don't see how. Considering only the person of the Father and his will to cause the other two persons of the Trinity, there is no proof in this model that he has acted in a libertarian sense. Compatibilists can still claim that this is a case of a person acting according to his nature. Be sure not to confuse the Father's begetting according to his nature with the Father's willing to beget according to his nature. They are not identical. It is possible to accept Clifton's account of God's unity flowing from the monarche of the Father as a result of his will and still maintain that willing, for any person, must be according to nature. We can take the minimal view of this: there was nothing within the nature of the Father to prevent him from willing to beget. We wouldn't have to say that the Father's nature compelled him to will begetting. If begetting is, indeed, "a sacrificial act of love," then it would not be against the Father's nature to exhibit such sacrificial love. To say that a person acts according to his nature does not render any one choice inevitable, it only renders some choices impossible. The totally depraved cannot choose to cooperate with the will of God; God cannot choose to lie-nor would he want to.

So far, I take Clifton's point in talking about the monarche of the Father to be a model of libertarian free-will. If so, the monarche has not proven an adequate argument against persons acting according to nature. But then Clifton throws in something that makes things a little less clear. I had been reading his argument about the monarche of the Father in conjunction with the claim that persons exceed their natures like this: The divine nature is triune; however, because the ultimate source of the Godhead is found in the personal will of the Father, then the Father's will must take a logical priority to that nature. The only way that I am able to see this happening is if the person of the Father is abstracted from the divine essence- a thing that cannot be done. Clifton responded:

I said nothing about "abstracting" the Person of the Father from the divine essence. Nor is such abstraction the foundation of my claim that Trinitarian Personhood exceeds divine essence. Rather, my claim is based on the theological fact that God the Father begets the Son and sends forth the Holy Spirit. In terms of real, not merely abstract, cause the one Person of the Father is "exceeded" by the Three Persons of the Trinity, the unity of the Godhead is "exceeded" by the tri-unity of the Trinity. That is to say, the Persons of the Trinity are not merely the same stuff as the Father. They are real, unique and different Persons. Similarly, the tri-unity of the Persons is not merely the same unity of God's nature.

What Clifton describes here is true to his premise of the monarche of the Father. Three persons exceed one person; tri-unity exceeds unity. But this has nothing to do with the proposition that, for any given individual, person exceeds nature in such a way that the will is not determined by the nature. So I'm left wondering what the connection is.

Now I'd like to move on to a consideration of Clifton's view in itself and to a response to his criticism of my views. I will begin with the latter. On my idea of the relationship between person and nature, Clifton writes, "He is claiming, and has claimed consistently, that persons are their natures." As it relates to the Trinity, this brings me dangerously close to modalism (although he allows that I haven't actually crossed the line), because of my "identification of the Persons of the Trinity with the nature of the Godhead." I suppose that modalism would, indeed, follow from such claims and indentifications. Let me, then, try to be as unequivocal as possible: Persons are not their natures. The persons of the Trinity are not the same as the nature of the Godhead. I grant that I may have said something that would seem to imply otherwise, and I may continue to use such formulations. Attribute this to a peculiar inability to articulate clearly a particular concept, but, please, do not continue to draw the implications. Interpret whichever of my statements may seem to make such an identification in light of this statement to the contrary: Persons are not their natures.

Clifton writes that I "even went so far as to agree with [his] assertion that Personhood exceeds essence, but then apparently contradicted [myself] in saying that it was in the nature of the Trinitarian Persons to do so. So it is not clear to [Clifton] which it is: Do the Persons exceed their essence; or are they subsumed within it since that is what their nature is, to exceed their nature?" First, the only way that I can agree that person exceeds essence is if this is the only way to get across the idea that person and nature are not the same thing. This would be an assertion of metaphysics, not an admission that persons need not act according to their natures. Second, I did not actually make the claim that it was in the nature of persons to exceed their natures. This was a rephrasing of Clifton's claim that persons necessarily exceed their natures. I make the equation on the basis of the following premise: For any action that can be predicated of a person, a corresponding property can be predicated of his nature. Thus, I am currently eating a bowl of beans and rice. It is, therefore, in my nature to eat beans and rice. This does not mean that such cuisine is inevitable, only that I am able to eat it. If it were not in my nature, I would have to eat something else. If we're talking metaphysical states, then person exceeds nature insofar as they are not the same thing (for that matter, I suppose we could also say that nature exceeds person). But if the point is necessary actions of the will, then the action predicated of a person corresponds to a property predicated of his nature. Such a case, however, involves a contradiction. The property of exceeding nature cannot reside within the nature itself. And if we allow that properties corresponding to personal action can reside in the person, then this begs the question of why we would need to posit a nature at all. Just say that a person is such and such a way and be done with the whole nature bit. Of course, then there woud be no nature to exceed, returning us to the original problem- do people will in a libertarian fashion or according to the various properties within their person?

I had written, "It is the nature of the Persons of the Trinity to be one God in which the relationships between the persons are expressed in terms of begetting and procession." To which Clifton responded, "If what Kevin says, here, is true, we have an enhypostatizaton of the divine nature, but apparently because it is the nature of God's essence to enhypostize himself in a Trinity of Persons." I'm not exactly sure of his point here. Does "enhypostatization" refer to the forming of persons? In this case, should I assume that Clifton considers such enhypostatization okay, as long as the Father freely wills it in begetting and sending forth, but objects to my claim that such enhypostatization is a result of God's nature? Or should I take the terms to mean "giving permanent substance to attributes." I gather that he objects to this, but it may be because he doesn't view this as merely making an attribute permanent, but of thinking of it as a person. Later on, he wrote, "If we predicate God's unity on his nature, or his essence, we tend toward modalistic conceptions of the Persons (i. e., we enhypostatize attributes, such as 'Love,' which enhypostatization logically fails to give rise to a third Person)..." I'm going to take Clifton's objection to be against placing the cause of the Son and Spirit in the nature of the Father as opposed to the will of the Father, since he goes on to say:

The question, however, logically arises: Must God so enhypostatize his nature? On Kevin's terms, he must do so. But this radically abridges God's freedom. For if it is God's nature to enhypostatize that nature, he cannot but do so, else he is not true to his nature, and thus not God. Nor is it clear why it is that the enhypostatization of God is accomplished by himself in a Trinity of Persons. He might just as well have done so in a Bi-unity of Persons.

To answer the first question- yes, he must. I'll develop the thought further when I respond to Clifton's views on the monarche of the Father. For now, this is not an abridgement of God's freedom since it has nothing to do with his freedom. Begetting and spiration are not acts of the will but are natural effects of what the Father is (and, because I am affiliated with the West, what the Father and the Son are in the case of spiration). Along the same lines, Clifton had continued the previous quote about predicating God's unity on his nature with this:

...or, we tend toward logically ascribing to God the absence of Personal freedom (i. e., all that God does is determined by his nature and thus necessary for him to do lest he cease being God, for example that God must create the world for it is his nature to do so).

This does not follow. Begetting and spiration are not personal actions and are not effected by the exercise of the will. Consequently, they contribute nothing to the question of libertarianism or compatibilism. As to the example "that God must create the world for it is his nature to do so," this is not the same thing. The ontology of persons within the Trinity is inevitable: this is just what God is. The Father had no more more choice in the matter of begetting the Son than he did in his own existence. Willing to create, even though according to his nature, is not the same thing, precisely because it is a matter of the will. To will in accordance with one's nature does not render a particular outcome inevitable. It only means that it was within the range of possibilities. Not everything is. God could not will to create a greater God than himself, nor could he will into existence that infamous rock that he can't move. To think that he can betrays a misunderstanding of ominpotence. These are against his natural ability. In opposition to his moral ability, he could not create an inferior creature (as all creatures must be) with the intent of worshipping it. It is not in his nature to create any of this. However, it is in his nature to create what he did create and would have been in his nature even if he had opted not to do so. To Clifton's observation that it is not "clear why it is that the enhypostatization of God is accomplished by himself in a Trinity of Persons," I can only answer with a question- Does it have to be? It happened.

Anyone who read the Oration that Clifton linked from Gregory of Nazianzus will know the primary objection to my claim that begetting and spiration are not acts of the Father's will. Gregory states in section II, "Let us not ever look on this Generation as involuntary, like some natural overflow, hard to be retained, and by no means befitting our conception of Deity." But my rejection of Clifton's monrache model is not based upon an arbitrary dismissal of Gregory, but on a reading of Athanasius (Discourse III Against the Arians- the link, which is to chapter 30, contains all of the following quotes therefrom), who is explicit in his rejection of the notion that the Son was begotten accrording to the Father's will. Gregory might be mistaken on the matter, but I think it more likely that he and Athanasius are actually in harmony.

It all goes back to Arius and Arianism. Arius believed that the Son was not actually God but only of a similar substance. He was not eternal with the Father but was, rather, begotten in time. A favorite Arian expression concerning the Son was, "There was a time when he was not." Consistent with their beliefs, the Son was begotten according to the will of the Father. Actually, it was the more the other way around and this is how Athanasius took it. The belief that the Father willed to beget the Son led to the conclusion that the Son had not always existed. Athanasius does allow, "Now if any orthodox believer were to say this in simplicity, there would be no cause to be suspicious of the expression, the orthodox intention prevailing over that somewhat simple use of words." We need now to distinguish between what the Arians mean in saying that the Father wills to beget the Son and what the simple orthodox would mean. The meaning of the statement as a premise will be different. Athanasius does not fault the Arians for an invalid conclusion. In fact, he draws the same one. If the the Son is begotten because the Father willed it to be, that is, if the begetting of the Son is according to the Father's free choice, then it cannot be eternal. There must have been a time when the Son was not. Athanasius also argues according to the Son's identity as the Word of God, saying:

For if He too came to be, as you maintain, by will, it follows that the will concerning Him consists in some other Word, through whom He in turn comes to be; for it has been shewn that God's will is not in the things which He brings into being, but in Him through whom and in whom all things made are brought to be...But if the Word is the Framer of the creatures, and He co-exists with the Father, how can to counsel precede the Everlasting as if He were not? for if counsel precedes, how through Him are all things? For rather He too, as one among others is by will begotten to be a Son, as we too were made sons by the Word of Truth; and it rests, as was said, to seek another Word, through whom He too was brought to be, and was begotten together with all things, which were according to God's pleasure.

We can begin to see what the orthodox would mean in saying that Christ was begotten according to the Father's will if we consider its opposite as "against the will" instead of "not according to the will." For instance, I cannot will the daily operations of my heart. It does not work according to my will, it just works. On the other hand, it does not work against my will, as would be the case if it stopped. This would be against my will, but my will could do nothing about it. Gregory's statement about the generation not being involuntary hints at this meaning in the phrase, "hard to be retained." The begetting of the Son is not something that God doesn't want and that he is at pains to stop. However, wanting and willing , even though "will" may be used in place of "want," are not synonymous concepts. Because God wants to create, he wills to create. On the other hand, when, as an inevitable result of his nature, he begets the Son, he desire that this happen is a matter of concurring. In much the same way, I want my heart to beat, but, in a strict usage of the term, I cannot will that it do so. Athanasius has some similar thoughts when he distinguishes the will of God from the pleasure of God:

Since then the Son is by nature and not by will, is He without the pleasure of the Father and not with the Father's will? No, verily; but the Son is with the pleasure of the Father, and, as He says Himself, The Father loveth the Son, and sheweth Him all things [John iii. 35; v. 20.]. For as not "from will" did He begin to be good, nor yet is good without will and pleasure, (for what He is, that also is His pleasure,) so also that the Son should be, though it came not "from will," yet it is not without His pleasure or against His purpose. For as His own subsistence is by His pleasure, so also the Son, being proper to His Substance, is not without His pleasure.

Going back to Gregory, he answers those who present a false dichotomy in claiming that the Father begets neither voluntarily nor involuntarily. The implication of the claim is that the Son was not begotten at all. Gregory was dealing with hyper-Arianism, which went beyond the claim that the Son was only of like substance to the Father rather than the same substance, to the claim that he was of a different substance altogether. Begetting was no longer under consideration. Thier argument was, "...if it was involuntary He was under the sway of some one, and who exercised this sway? And how is He, over whom it is exercised, God? But if voluntarily, the Son is a Son of Will; how then is He of the Father?" Gregory answers by considering creation:

Did God create all things voluntarily or under compulsion? If under compulsion, here also is the tyranny and one who played tyrant; if voluntarily, the creatures also are deprived of their God, and you before the rest, who invent such arguments and tricks of logic. For a partition is set up between the Creator and the creatures in the shape of Will. And yet I think that the Person who wills is distinct from the Act of willing; He who begets from the Act of begetting; the Speaker from the speech, or else we are all very stupid. On the one side we have the mover, and on the other that which is, so to speak, the motion. Thus the thing willed is not the child of will, for it does not always result therefrom; nor is that which is begotten the child of generation, not that which is heard the child of speech, but of the Person who willed, or begat, or spoke.

At first glance, Gregory's refutation of being a "child of will" may look as though he disagrees with Athanasius' point that, if the Father willed to beget the Word, this will would involve the interposition of another Word. I believe, however, that Athanasius and Gregory are using "will" in two different senses. Athanasius is using the more technical sense of the will as an operation that immediately results in action. Gregory's meaning is more along the lines of want or desire. Note where he says, "Thus the thing willed is not the child of will, for it does not always result therefrom." That is, mere desire does not always produce results. Gregory has refuted his opponents argument by distingishing between the act and the actor. Whatever is willed is not the child of the act of willing, but of the one who performs the act. But this is all assuming that, for God, the will (i.e., desire) to beget the Son is even like a human will, or even his own will in other cases. Continuing the above quote, he writes, "But the things of God are beyond all this, for with Him perhaps the Will to beget is generation, and there is no intermediate action (if we may accept this altogether, and not rather consider generation superior to will)".

First, Gregory considers taking out the intermediate act all together, saying that the Will to beget and generation are, perhaps, the same thing. But it is his second suggestion that leads me to believe that he cannot be talking about will in the sense of exercising a choice to produce a desired result. He wonders whether we may "consider generation superior to will." If this is the case, then generation, that is, the begetting of the Son, logically precedes the Father's desire that he be, or pleasure in the fact that he is, begotten. Furthermore, this logical order being the case, there must be the elimination of any idea that the begetting of the Son is preceded in any fashion by the operation of the Father's will. For will considered as operation must be preceded by will considered as desire. And to those who would deny this tenet of compatibilism even here, I would ask whether they believe that the begetting of the Son was caused by an operation of the Father's will, but that the Father anticipated no pleasure in the result?

Because of the way in which he is using "will," as desire or talking pleasure in what is, rather than bringing something to pass, Gregory's answer to the notion that the Son's generation is involuntary is not as strong as the other; he basically denies that this is the case. On the other hand, Athanasius, who is using will in the sense of operation, does answer the charge that necessity is laid on the Father if he does not beget by his will:

If then there is another Word of God, then be the Son brought into being by a Word; but if there be not, as is the case, but all things by Him were brought to be, which the Father has willed, does not this expose the many-headed craftiness of these men? that feeling shame at saying "work," and "creature," and "God's Word was not before His generation," yet in another way they assert that He is a creature, putting forward "will," and saying, "Unless He has by will come to be, therefore God had a Son by necessity and against His good pleasure." And who is it then who imposes necessity on Him, O men most wicked, who draw every thing to the purpose of your heresy? for what is contrary to will they see; but what is greater and transcends it, has escaped their perception. For as what is beside purpose is contrary to will, so what is according to nature transcends and precedes counseling. A man by counsel builds a house, but by nature he begets a son; and what is in building at will began to come into being, and is external to the maker; but the son is proper offspring of the father's substance, and is not external to him; wherefore neither does he counsel concerning him, lest he appear to counsel about himself. As far then as the Son transcends the creature, by so much does what is by nature transcend the will. They then, on hearing of Him, ought not to measure by will what is by nature; forgetting however that they are hearing about God's Son, they dare to apply human contrarieties in the instance of God, "necessity" and "beside purpose," to be able thereby to deny that there is a true Son of God.

For let them tell us themselves,—that God is good and merciful, does this attach to Him by will or not? if by will, we must consider that He began to be good, and that His not being good is possible; for to counsel and choose implies an inclination two ways, and is the property of a rational nature. But if it be too extravagant that He should be called good and merciful upon will, then what they have said themselves must be retorted on them,—"therefore by necessity and not at His pleasure He is good;" and, "who is it which imposes this necessity on Him?" But if it be extravagant to speak of necessity in the case of God, and therefore it is by nature that He is good, much more is He, and more truly, Father of the Son by nature and not by will. Moreover let them answer us this:—(for against their recklessness I wish to urge a further question, bold indeed, but with a religious intent; be propitious, O Lord —the Father Himself, does He exist, first having counselled, then being pleased, or before counselling? For since they are as bold in the instance of the Word, they must receive the like answer, that they may know that this their presumption reaches even to the Father Himself. If then they shall themselves take counsel about will, and say that even He is from will, what then was He before He counselled, or what gained He, as ye consider, after counseling? But if such a question be extravagant and self-destructive, and shocking even to ask, (for it is enough only to hear God's Name for us to know and understand that He is He that Is,) will it not also be against reason to have parallel thoughts concerning the Word of God, and to make pretences of will and pleasure? for it is enough in like manner only to hear the Name of the Word, to know and understand that He who is God not by will, has not by will but by nature His proper Word. And does it not surpass all conceivable madness, to entertain the thought only, that God Himself counsels and considers and chooses and proceeds to have a good pleasure, that He be not without Word and without Wisdom, but have both? for He seems to be considering about Himself, who counsels about what is proper to His Substance.

Although Athanasius denies that the Son was begotten by the Father's will, he does make a distinction that is helpful in the broader discussion of the operation of the will. The Father's begetting of the Son, even though it could not have been otherwise, was not according to necessity, but according to nature (or, if it is by necessity, it is not an objectionable necessity and implies no subordination or loss of freedom). The same distinction can be applied to the normal operation of the will. Being internally determined according to one's own nature is not contrary to operating the will according to one's own pleasure. External determination, when it is against one's nature or better judgment, is. [And no, the operation of God's sovereign will does not necessarily imply such an external determination. In a Reformed understanding of moral free-agency, it is God's prerogative, always according to justice, to change or to leave unchanged our natures. The ability to decide still remains with us as agents, according to our nature and according to our pleasure.]

Basically, I believe that Clifton has misconstrued Gregory's intent. Gregory does speak of the Father begetting the Son and Emitting the Spirit, but no orthodox trinitarian, which, as should be obvious by now, includes those who say that this was according to nature, would deny this. As to the generation of the Son not being involuntary, Gregory's understanding of the will is in the sense of pleasure in what is, and is not in the sense of the effectual personal operation of the faculty of willing. The latter would have to be the case in order for his Oration to support the argument that the Father must beget the Son as a personal act else his freedom is in jeopardy. More important, however, is the way in which Clifton's conception of the monarche of the Father sits with the views of Athanasius, who will not allow that the idea of God willing to beget the Son can be separated from the Arian idea that there was a time when the Son was not.

I have already alluded to this, but there is, finally, that schism inducing word- filioque. The Western church was hasty to add it, as it is certainly no heresy not to agree. Nevertheless, I believe that adherence to the doctrine taught thereby is both correct and is more in line with the Scriptural teaching that the Son is the image of the Father. Those personal attributes defining the relationship between the Father and the Son excepted (begetting and being begotten), if the Son does not possess the personal attribute of spiration along with the Father, then the image is defective. While of considerably less consequence than the Arian implications of his argument, Clifton's attempt to locate the unity of the Godhead within the monarche of the Father is not going to go over very well with a Western audience. It requires a rejection of the filioque; otherwise, the Spirit is explained not according to unity, but according to duality. On the other hand, Clifton is perfectly free to maintain his Eastern perspective of procession while rethinking the monarche.

Real Union and Legal Talk

This is a response to Perry's comments of 3/27/05 down here. Whenever I act in any way, this is evidence that my faculty of will has just been engaged. Natures do not will; persons will according to their natures. Upon his incarnation, the Second Person of the Trinity assumed human nature. Consequently, this same person is fully a divine person and fully a human person. The person acts in unity. Insofar as Christ is a human person, it is not possible for him to perform any actions without engaging his human faculty of the will. The same thing goes insofar as he is a divine person with regard to his divine faculty of the will. A single person cannot will a and non-a at the same time and in the same relationship. Having dual faculties of the will is not going to change this. Dithelitism does not allow the person to break the laws of non-contradiction; rather, the hypostatic union of two natures guarantees that the two faculties always work in concert. There is no problem with a single person willing a plurality of things at the same time, just as long as there are no contradictions in the things willed. When it comes to two acts of the will even more things can be willed. It is also possible to will something that undoes the effects of a previous act of willing. But two acts of the will has little to do with dithelitism. Perry is confusing dual faculties with dual acts. They are not the same thing. Whenever Christ does anything (or any combination of things at the same time), he has done so by a single act of willing. The simultaneous employment of both faculties of willing does not imply two different acts. Natures do not will, persons do. Dithelitism does not mean that there can be simultaneous yet distinct acts of willing in one person; it means that each single act of willing by the one person will have been done by means of two faculties of willing. As to Christ saying, "Not my will but your will," I repeat my original objection- he's not talking to himself. While there is a sense in which all three persons of the Trinity perform the same act due to their unity of essence, this cannot be absolute; otherwise, we end up sacrificing the distinction between the persons. It is true that all three persons are involved in creation and redemption, but this does not mean that all three persons to the same thing. The Son uniquely pays the price of our redemption, the Spirit uniquely works with us in our progressive sanctification. Furthermore, unless we want to assert the heresy of patripassionism, then the suffering of the Son on the cross does not imply that the Father also suffered. The incarnation is the hypostatic union of human and divine natures in the person of the Son, not in the person of the Holy Spirit. The Father's act of giving the Son is a distinct act from that of the Son offering himself. Our knowledge that the three persons of the Trinity share an identity of essence is not based on any identity of act. Identity of act may imply an identity of essence, but, even more, it implies an identity of person (unless we're thinking of complex acts that must be performed by more than one person). The reverse is not the case- identity of essence does not imply identity of act. At most, it implies identity of purpose in action. If the Son sends the Spirit, then the Spirit is in full agreement that he should be sent.

Perry is correct to argue that "to be creator is not in the divine essence, otherwise creation would be eternal." However, this does not prove his point that a person can exceed his nature. To be creator is not in the divine essence, but the ability to create is. Ability does not need to be concerned with what actually happens, only with potential. Even if God had never created, it always would have been in his nature to exercise the option. If the ability to be a creator were not in his nature, then there could be no creation. The fall, whether of angels or of man, does not need to be explained by exceeding nature. While it would be impossible for one whose nature had been confirmed in righteousness to fall, it is not the case that those who fell had been so confirmed. Their natures included the potential for good or evil. And this potential does not require that we posit some defect in their nature. They were created exactly as God intended. If creating someone with the ability to sin because it is in their nature to do so makes God the author of sin, then creating someone with the ability to sin because they can exceed their nature would also make God the author of sin. But God is not the author of sin. Neither man nor the angels were created so that they had to fall.

My use of the word "co-extensive" to describe a nature and a person may not be optimal, but it's the only one I think of at the moment. I do not mean that person and natures are the same thing. I am trying to get to the idea that, when it comes to my own person, no part of that person is not a human person. I, that is, my person, must always be described in terms consistent with my humanity. In acting, my person cannot exceed its nature because all of my person is human. That which is predicable of me is not predicable of my nature, nor is the reverse true. Nonetheless, if something is predicable of me, then a corresponding predication can be made concerning my nature. If I am in pain, then it is in my nature to feel pain. This does not mean that my nature can feel pain. I, the person, can feel pain because it is in my nature, that is, the nature of the person, to feel it. A nature cannot be guilty. Guilt belongs to persons. Still, guilt is due to personal sin and a person cannot sin unless it is in his nature to do so. Appealing to the etymology of "hypostasis" as the most concentrated or real thing in an essence is not going to work. While etymology can be helpful in determining the meaning of a word, it cannot be considered alone. Meaning evolves with usage. In current theological usage, the word means "person." But this only resulted from some terminological wrangling between the Greek and Latin sides of the church. Even in the NT, this word does not mean "person" but "the essential or basic nature of an entity." [It can also mean "that which provides the basis for trust or reliance."] To shorten this section as much as possible, I refer anyone interested in the history of the word's theological usage to paragraphs 3-6 of what I have written here.

God was free to create or not to create, yet the act of creation was determined by his nature. Be careful here- "determined:" does not mean, as Perry later puts it, "to render inevitable one unique outcome." While it may be the case that one's nature could determine his actions in this narrow sense, it more often refers to a range of possibilities. My nature determines that I cannot create even if I wanted to. God's nature determines that he cannot lie. Right now, I would like to be able to snap my fingers and have this entire post be finished. It is not in my nature do actually do this. It is in my nature either to continue writing at the moment or to get up and do something else for a while. The things that I am able to will are determined by my nature, but it does not follow from this that my nature will render inevitable only one of these possibilities. Whatever I decide will be according to the strongest inclination that is in agreement with both my moral and my natural ability.

Persons and natures are distinct; consequently, a person is not going to be explanatorily exhausted by his nature. But a person is not the same thing as what a person does. A person's actions are always in accordance with his nature. This is not to say that we can't be surprised by the actions of someone we thought we knew. If we are, however, we are not required to posit something other than his nature to explain why he did what we did. It's more a matter of learning something else about his nature that we didn't know. I do not make the claim that there is nothing more to being a person than nature, only that a person cannot act beyond the parameters of his nature. Every person has a nature, but the sense in which this nature is possessed goes beyond the usual instances of having something. I do not have a nature in the same sense that I have a car. I can leave the car home if I choose to walk somewhere. For that matter, the car can be stolen. This is not going to happen with my nature. But I also don't have a nature in the same sense that I have ears, legs, fingers, or hair. My nature is not a part of me that can be lopped off and still leave me to be me. My person and my nature are not the same thing; nevertheless, if my person does not have a nature, it is not merely bereft of something important- it cannot exist at all.

Perry observes that "referencing my nature to explain what I am as a person is not sufficient to explain personhood. Why? Because there are, for example, other persons who do not have a human nature." But then, the point has not been to explain personhood as a genus, including human, angelic, and divine. It is to delimit what an individual is and what that individual can do according to his particular species of person. Human persons have human natures; angelic persons have angelic natures. We don't need to worry about running across and then explaining a "personhood."

Perry rejects the idea that "nature constrains, determines or circumscribes an agents act[s]." This idea is how the Reformed explain the impossibility of God sinning. Perry agrees with this impossibility, but explains it as a fusion between God's faculty of will and his personal employment of that faculty. "Likewise," he says, "this is what explains why people in the eschaton cannot sin while we can. Our personal employment of our faculty and the faculty of will itself are not necessarily connected yet since this only occurs in the state of being virtuous." I fail to see, though, how this is not just a way of explaining the very idea that Perry rejects. Nature constrains, determines, and circumscribes an agent's acts precisely because the faculty of willing and the personal employment of that faculty are fused. Contrary to Perry's assertions, this fusion is a necessary part of who we are. Fusion merely describes the mechanics of acting according to ones nature. It is a separate question whether that nature is virtuous, totally depraved, or somewhere in the middle.

Next, Perry offers reasons why it is false to say that an agent always acts on his strongest inclination. "First, because inclinations are not causes and neither are desires. Inclinations, desires, and reasons are dispositional *states* and states don’t do anything since they are not activities. Decisions are activities and hence they explain actions." Evidentally, the only thing that can explain an action is an activity. It would also seem to be the case that activities producing actions are the only things that can rightly be called "causes." None of this follows. Causes are not limited to explaining actions but are properly paired with effects. A cause does not have to do anything in order for there to be an effect. The marble from which a statue is made is a cause. It doesn't do anything other than exist in a state of marblehood but, without it, there could be no marble statue as an effect. This post is an effect, but it is not an activity. One of its causes is my activity of typing. If we look at it another way, though, it is caused by me. I am not an activity, even though I do act. Still, we could say that at least one of the causes of an effect must be an action. There will be no marble statue unless someone performs the activity of sculpting. If we go even further back, the activity of sculpting is due to the decision to sculpt, which is another activity. This decision, in turn, is the direct result of the exercise of the will. From the moment that the will is exercised until the final effect the chain of causation includes some kind of activity. However, this is no argument that those causes which are logically prior to the exercise of the will must include activity. Perry continues, "Second, I can have a desire to do something and yet not do it. And the same can be said for having reasons or inclinations for doing something and yet not do it. If reasons, desires, and inclinations were sufficient for doing some act, then the act would take place. But acts don’t take place without decisions because none of the previously mentioned things are acts, but states." Here, Perry is ignoring a key point of the premise. It is not that agents always act according to their inclinations, but that they always act according to their strongest inclinations. And yes, provided that the external circumstances are right and that the agent has the natural ability to perform a certain action, the strongest inclination is sufficient for that action to take place. While it is true that acts don't take place without decisions, we have yet to explain why decisions take place. Decisions result from an exercise of the will and the will is exercised according to its strongest inclination at the moment. From the available options, you will always choose that which you most desire at the time.

The medieval church had two different schools of thought, each with its own view of merit. In intellectualism, the merit of an act was intrinsic to the act itself. There was a natural correspondance between the moral value of an act and what it merited. In voluntarism, merit was extrinsic to the act, being grounded in the will of God. An act merited just what God said it did, no more and no less. Historically, Reformed theology does not dismiss the idea of merit (although, recently, certain branches are attempting to do just that), the question is more along the lines of who is qualified to merit. The ability to merit is placed in Federal Heads. It is a matter of a covenantal arrangement and, in this sense, Reformed theology is more in line with voluntarism than it is with intellectualism. God states the terms of merit and then binds himself to reward the fulfilling of those terms. If Adam obeys God, something that is entirely within his natural ability, he will be rewarded with living in the presence of God forever. That promised reward is entirely disproportionate to the act; nevertheless, if Adam succeeds, he has every right to expect the reward because God promised it. When the Second Adam comes and merits eternal life for us, even this is not merit in the intellectualist sense. This merit is according to Christ's role as the Second Adam, it is according to his human nature, by which he could never do anything equal in worth to the promised reward. Yet, having fulfilled the terms of the covenant, he has every right to expect that God will give him the promised reward. In the sense of what it means to merit something, Reformed theology can be traced back to voluntarism. It does not follow from this, however, that Reformed theology adopts the more problematic aspects of voluntarism. One key difference is precisely what has been under discussion here- the role of nature in setting the parameters of the will. In voluntarism, God's will is limited by nothing more than the law of non-contradiction. In covenant theology, his will is also limited by his nature. Thus, God could not have created a situation in which either of the Federal Heads had to sin in order to merit eternal life. He could not have made hatred and disrespect for himself a condition of entering heaven. Theoretically, under voluntarism, these were options. God just didn't happen to do them. Covenant theology still retains the idea of intrinsic moral value. Certain activities are just wrong, not just because it is God's will that they be wrong (which it is), but because they go against his nature. The moral law is founded in who and what God is.

As to the charge of nominalism, I can't figure out where Perry is going with this. He writes, "The acts that have merit are not yours in the sense that you did them, they are Christ’s. They are predicable to you by an act of will on God’s part but they are not grounded in you as their actor." Okay, here I can see where he gets the voluntarism, but then he goes on, "This is why justification in Reformed theology is forensic and grounded in a type of Nominalism. The merit of the acts is a label applied to but not grounded in you. Justification then is a transfer of moral credit. The acts are 'yours' only in the metaphysically thinnest of senses as a label, with faith as the only vehicle by which this label is applied to you." It looks like Perry is using nominalism to mean that justification is primarily an act of divine declaration or naming that is not really grounded in reality. This is much like the Catholic objection that forensic justification is a legal fiction. If we aren't really righteous, then merely saying that it's the case, even if God says it, just won't make it so. That objection I can understand, but I don't see how it is connected to Nominalism, which is the rejection of the existence of universal essences. In this view, universals are ways of conceptualizing and naming things that have several common features. But the universals themselves do not actually exist. There are no abstract entities, only concrete individuals. Perhaps the connection is found in giving a name to what isn't really there, but, if so, it's pretty thin. Nominalism is about the denial of actual universals and relegating them to names and mental concepts. It is not about relegating anything and everything to names and mental concepts. Even if forensic justification were no more than putting a label on something that isn't real (which it is not), it still woudn't be about the denial of universals.

The Reformed don't have a problem with the idea that God and man can share in bringing about a single act. We do, for instance, believe in synergism when it comes to progressive sanctification. The writing of Scripture also comes to mind, which is a product both of its human authors and of the Holy Spirit. I'm not so sure that the adjective "wholly" has to be used, but I won't object. Inasmuch as the theme of this debate is monergism, the idea that a work must either belong to God or belong to man really has nothing to do with it. The question is not whether people can go through the motions. They certainly are able to do things that they think will merit salvation for them. Furthermore, there's nothing inherently contradictory in the notion that God might be working through them. Monergism objects to none of this. It's just that everything that needs to be done for our personal salvation has already been done. It's not about the impossibility of a synergy between natures, for this is just what happened with Christ. It's that one person did everything and, as much as we might like to contribute to the cause, we can't. There is no bifurcation between human and divine acts since Christ, who performed the acts necessary to our salvation, is both human and divine. Furthermore, there really is no problem in a Reformed understanding with saying that our acts can merit God's favor. Merit as such is not at issue. We can merit nothing before salvation. We can do nothing to merit salvation or to merit keeping salvation. But then, God's favor is not limited to salvation. There's nothing wrong with thinking of sancification along the lines of merit. God rewards those works that belong to both me and Christ. There is a difference, however, between those works that Christ through the Holy Spirit currently performs with those who are saved, and those works that Christ performed as an individual human being in history to effect our salvation. Synergism in its place is no argument against monergism. They would be contradictory at the same time and in the same relationship, but we're talking about different sets of works.

I must disagree with Perry's assessment that in Reformed Christology there is a co-opting of the one will by the other. If nothing else, this represents an impossible state of affairs. The two wills of Christ refer to faculties of willing; they do not refer to differences in things actually willed. Natures do not will anything; neither, for that matter, do faculties of the will. Persons will. The Logos, who was and still is fully God, has, by virtue of his incarnation, become fully man. When Christ wills anything, his hypostatic union guarantess complete harmony between both faculties of willing. The human faculty of willing is not co-opted but is being employed by a human person. The incarnation is not that a divine person with a divine nature takes on a human nature such that he is now a divine person with a divine nature and with a human nature. It is that a person, who was and is divine by virtue of his divine nature, takes on a human nature such that, while retaining his full divinity, he becomes a human person by virtue of his human nature. The person has both a divine nature and a human nature and is, thereby, both human and divine.

Let us, for the sake of argument, ignore the previous paragraph and say that the divine will does determine the human will in Christ. Perry claims, "This is the locus of Reformed predestinarianism which is essentially rooted in a faulty Christology. If God can determine Christ’s human will legitimately, then he can determine any human will legitimately." We will also adopt a common caricature of Reformed theology- God drags people kicking and screaming into heaven, or he doesn't let people get saved who want to. Predestination involves the co-opting of the will against the will. If this is the case, then a similar co-opting of Christ's will, even if it does result in a kind of monothelitism, wouldn't be all that serious. Considered in itself, monothelitism is not that big an issue. It becomes one when we realize that it implies that Christ is not fully human. But then, if everyone's will is co-opted, then how is Christ any less human if his will is also co-opted? Not that any of this realy is the case. I only mention it to point out either the inconsistency or the irrelevance of saying that monergism implies monothelitism.

Monergism is not, contrary to Perry's assertion, "about precluding the possibility of a human being finding favor with God by anything they do, even with God’s help, thereby supposedly securing the conclusion that only God does anything that pleases God." Recall that in Reformed theology, the monergistic works that merit our salvation are performed by Christ, who is a human being. For that matter, had he not fallen, Adam, who was only a human being, would have merited eternal life for his posterity. None of this forms any basis for concluding that "only God could pay the penalty of sin." First, even if we want to say that the same act does both, paying the penalty of sin is distinct from meriting eternal life. It only returns us to where Adam was, it does not elevate us to where Adam could have gone. Nor is it the case that only God could pay the penalty of sin. On the question of just who could pay the penalty of sin, Anselm provides the best answer in his Cur Deus Homo. It had to be the God-man. Since man sinned, only man was qualified to pay the penalty. But since that penalty involved the fulness of God's wrath, only God was able to pay it.

I did not say that Constantinople III taught that the human will is determined by the divine. In fact, I wrote, "The divine will does not determine the human will; however, the human will is subject to the divine will. The human will is determined by the human nature of the person, which, in this case, has been deified (without losing its own state and nature)." I brought this definition up in answer to Perry's question, "Does the divine will in Christ determine his human will?" The point, however, was not to answer in the affirmative, but to argue against what Perry has assumed to be the case with a negative answer. Perry wants to say that Christ's prayer in the garden is an example of the same subject willing two different things. I've already addressed this from other angles, but the language of the human will following the divine will is sufficient to discount the notion that two faculties of the will implies two things willed. The definition even states, "And these two natural wills are not contrary the one to the other (God forbid!) as the impious heretics assert," which could not be the case if one subject were in the garden willing contrary things with each faculty. Even though the council does not say that the nature determines the actions of the person, this is perfectly consistent with what it does say. I will not go so far as to say that the council required the notion that nature determines personal action, but I cannot say that it required a denial of this view either. The views of Augustine could not have disappeared that quickly. And determination of personal action by nature would not result in a divine person being determined. It would result in the actions of a divine person being determined by his divine nature. Again, do not read too much into "determined" when it is used in conjunction with nature. It does not mean "to render a particular outcome inevitable." The determination of one's nature is more along the lines of setting the parameters for a range of options. "Determined" does take on the stronger meaning when it is a matter of the strongest inclination in the context of natural ability and the right external circumstances. Even at that, the person is not determined, but is always free to act in whatever manner he pleases.

Perhaps I could have been clearer in saying that human nature was created corruptible. I do not mean to say that it was created with the ability to change for the worse as such. This is, in fact, what I am denying against the Reformed view. Human nature itself does not change at the fall. As to explaining how it was possible for the fall to take place, my proposal does do this. I am still retaining the idea that our will is always exercised according to the strongest inclination at the moment of decision. A nature that is confirmed in virtue, even though it has a multitude of good options, cannot be inclined to evil. Likewise, a nature that is totally depraved cannot be inclined to do anything that does not involve sin. Adam was neither totally depraved nor confirmed in virtue. The options toward which his nature could be inclined included sin. On Perry's second point, that courruptibility is accidental to human nature, this does not present a problem. Adam was, as are we, in full possession of this accident. Still, I am more comfortable with the idea that this corruptibility was inherent and that it will be changed in the resurrection. I can see the philosophical reasons behind calling corruptibility an accident, but I don't like the idea that the substance of human nature remains unchanged when we are resurrected. God is perfectly able to change our natures while still allowing us to retain our personal identities as human beings.

Perry returns to the notion that God and those in the eschaton are not able to sin becuase the faculties of their natures are fused with the personal employment of those faculties. But, as I have already mentioned, this describes just what it is for personal action to be determined by nature. Actually, for the sake of argument, we can dismiss the idea that nature determines action. Perry has admitted that "it is impossible for God or those in the eschaton to sin." If it is impossible to perform a certain set of actions, then, by implication, something has determined that these actions cannot be performed. Perry continues by saying that "libertarian freedom doesn’t imply an ability to do acts of differing moral worth, but rather only a plurality of acts." I disagree with him in his assessment of libertarian freedom- it implies the ability to choose any option within the bounds of natural ability. But I'm willing to leave this as a matter of semantics. By saying, "libertarian freedom doesn’t imply an ability to do acts of differing moral worth," Perry has actually articulated a form of compatibilism. All that is needed to preserve the doctrines of God's impeccability and of the unregenerate man's total depravity is to say that their freedom does not imply "an ability to do acts of differing moral worth." God cannot do morally evil acts, the totally depraved cannot perform any acts that are free of sin. Perry's concept of what he calls "libertarian freedom" is such that he cannot object that total depravity deprives man of his freedom (although, he may still object to the concept of total depravity).

Perry correctly states that, "All of the divine essence is in each of the three divine persons equally and fully without division." In this sense, Christ is fully God. It does not follow from this, however, that order to be fully human, he must take on all of human nature. It is not the case that there can be only one of each nature as nature. Rather, the unity of the divine nature exist because it is just that- divine nature. It is an infinite and eternal nature, of which there can be only one. Human nature, by contrast, is finite and contingent. There can be as many human natures as there are human persons. We cannot equate nature with nature without first asking what kinds of natures are being considered. Consequently, Christ's full humanity and full deity is no reason to suppose that he had to take on all of humanity thus redeeming all in the incarnation. Fortunately, we can limit the scope of redemption and make it a lot more substantive than being rescued from annihilation. Christ has come in order that we might have eternal life, which is an altogether different thing than eternal persistence. God is fully able to keep the wicked persisting for eternity. The incarnation is not necessary to do this. It is necessary for Christ to become incarnate if he wants to cleanse his people of their sins, make them partakers of the divine nature, and have them dwell forever in communion with God. There is more to eternal life than just existing forever.

Perry's makes too much of the singular neuter "it" in John 6:39. He writes, "This is why Christ says in John 6:39 'This is the will of Him who sent Me, that of all that He has given Me I lose nothing, but raise *it* up on the last day.' Christ is the source of life for everyone, even the wicked. All are raised because Christ has been raised." The idea here is that Christ has been given all of human nature in toto and that, by raising it, the nature, up on the last day, Christ is the source of life for everyone. But there is no reason for "it" to mean the mass of human nature. "It" (auto) is singular and neuter because it is tied to "all" (pan), which is also singular and neuter. The word means, "the totality of any object, mass, collective, or extension." The significance of the neuter gender lies, not in the fact that it must refer to a neuter substance, but that the adjective is standing alone. We are justified in asking, "all of what?" but we cannot limit our answer by matters of number or gender. Context is also nice. First, it is "all that He has given me." Nothing in the text indicates that God has given Christ all of human nature. For that matter, nothing in the text indicates that God has given Christ every human person. The text does not deny this, but the most that we can say is that all is limited by what God has given. We do not know from this text whether or not God has given everyone. That is, until we read the following verse, "For this is the will of my Father, that everyone who looks on the Son and believes in him should have eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day." Eternal life is granted to those who look on the Son and believe in him. That Scripture elsewhere teaches the resurrection of the wicked on the last day is no indication that they, too, have eternal life. In fact, it distinguishes between the two, "And many of those who sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, some to everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting contempt" (Daniel 12:2). The problem is that Perry equates death with annihilation. Consequently, eternal life applies to anyone who is not annihilated. This is backward. We should not define life according to an extreme notion of death; rather, we should define death in terms of abundant life. Those who believe on the Son are granted eternal life. Those who do not, even though they may have an eternal conscious existence, are not granted eternal life. According to I John 5:12, "Whoever has the Son life; whoever does not have the Son of God does not have life." Under Perry's view, the second clause describes a null set.

Christ's assuming of human nature constitutes a hypostatic union of natures in the one person of the Logos. His human nature is united with the divine nature. It does not constitute the union of anyone else's nature in the one person. Christ's assuming of the human nature provides the basis of our union with him. This is a natural union of persons. My person is united with Christ's person by virtue of the fact that we each have a human nature. The only way that a natural union of persons would result in universal salvation is if there was only one common human nature to be united to Christ. There is not. The Reformed speak of a personal union with Christ, which is fine if understood in context. Technically, however, this is incorrect. A personal union is the same thing as a hypostatic union. It is the union of two natures in one person. Natural union, on the other hand, is the union of two or more persons by virtue of a shared nature, whether numerically identical, as with divine nature, or just qualitatively identical, as with human nature. When Christ takes on an instance of humanity, he makes it possible, by virtue of the qualitative identity of our natures, for me to be placed into natural union with him. Because of this, I will be raised up on the last day and will be made a partaker of the divine nature even as Christ was divinized as to his human nature when he was declared to be the Son of God at his resurrection. [Note: Romans 1:4 is not talking about the two natures, human and divine, that constitute the person of Christ. It is talking about two successive stages of his incarnation. Resurrection implies divinization of humanity, both for Christ and for us.] The incarnation is a means to an end; namely, that God can be united to his people. This was always the intent from creation. That it is also necessary for the atonement is secondary to this primary intent. The satisfaction and penal models of the atonement have nothing to do with the Latins misunderstanding Chalcedon. It has a lot more to do with their understanding of Scripture and the doctrine of the just for the unjust. Chalcedon was about the importance of the incarnation. It did not say 'important to union but not to atonement' or 'important to atonement but not to union.'

Perry persists in the idea that Christ saved all of humanity from annihilation. Where is the evidence? While it may be the devil's goal to murder people by getting them to sin, we need to ask, "In what does their death consist?" What actually happens to those who sin without remedy? They persist forever in hell. There is no reason, aside from mere speculation, to suppose that this is an upgrade from annihilation. God is not vindicated at all in the fact that humanity exists eternally, for this was never in question. He is vindicated, on both accounts, by how they exist. Either case is a display of his attributes. Perry views healing as the least that God could do. First, note the worst condition in which man can persist and then postulate something even worse (although, I would dispute the idea that annihilation is worse than an eternity in hell- the Great Commission should read, "Go therefore and apologize"). This is wrong. Our healing is according to the fullness of God's grace, not the lowest common demoninator. "I came that they may have life and have it abundantly."

It may be that in much of Protestantism, union with God, if they even speak of such a thing, is only a "nominal union constituted by legal relationships or relationships constituted by the transfer of moral credit by means of a volition on God’s part and a cognitive act on our part (faith)." It is quite easy to see the emphasis on the imputation of Christ's righteousness to us as all there is to it. There is a tendency to reduce theology to one's own side of a particular polemical point, ignoring the fact that, before the polemics were made necessary, there were other important things to say. The same thing, for instance, has happened with many Calvinists. They subscribe to the five-pointed TULIP and leave it at that. But TULIP answers specific objections to Reformed theology. It was never intended as the foundation of Reformed theology. Little else in their belief system has anything to do with Reformed theology. Salvation by naked decree has effectively replaced a real union with Christ. Being a Calvinist is not necessarily the same thing as being Reformed. I was a Calvinist for as long as I can remember before converting to Reformed theology.

While such things as divine decrees, forensic declarations, and imputation are all important for Reformed theology, they are not the sum total of that theology. Those to whom Christ has granted eternal life, who believe on his name, are in Christ. This union is not merely nominal but is real. When Paul says that he has been crucified with Christ, he is not using metaphor. He is saying that when Christ died, all those for whom he died were there and united with him in death. We were all raised with Christ and we are all seated together with Christ in heavenly places. This union is not forensic, but is the basis on which forensic declarations concerning us can be made. Christ is declared righteous because of what he has done. He has paid the penalty for sin and has fulfilled what was required to merit eternal life. We are declared righteous, not as a means of effecting our union with Christ, but because we are in union with Christ. The imputation of Christ's personal righteousness to me and of my guilt (both personal and original) to Christ is not, as the Catholics have charged, a legal fiction. It is made possible because there is a real and effectual natural union of persons. Perry complains that grace, in Reformed theology, is rooted in the divine will. This makes it "metaphysically thin." Grace is contingent since "the divine will could have willed otherwise." I'm left wondering whether Perry would prefer that God be left without a choice in the matter. Would this make grace metaphysically fit? Probably not. He did qualifiy the divine will as "absolute." But, in so doing, he is slipping in aspects of voluntarism that don't belong in Reformed theology. We are not talking of God's will considered absolutely, but as it is bound according to his own covenant. God cannot just declare us forgiven. He cannot show mercy at the expense of justice. Yes, there is a point where God must make a decision, where he decrees whatsoever comes to pass. We can place the choice of election in this decree. Still, this is not all there is to it. In order for the grace of God to be effectual, we have to be in union with Christ in his death and resurrection. Furthermore, if we are in union Christ, then God cannot withhold the promised life. We must become partakers of the divine nature. This is the inevitable result of grace.

I specifically had Anselm's satisfaction model in mind when comparing it with the penal model; I wasn't even thinking of Thomas. But now that Perry has mentioned it- "Christ offers the love to the Father that Adam failed to offer"? How, exactly, does the atonement do this? I mean, it's probably a good thing that most sons don't express themselves in such a manner ("I love you, dad," as he lept into the oncoming traffic). While it is the case that Christ offers love to the Father in the atonement, this is hardly the reason for the atonement. Considered in itself, dying is not an expression of love. It needs to have a greater purpose. Go back to the idea that the Father loves us. Think of John 3:16. God gave his Son because of his love for us. Now we can begin to see how Christ's death is an act of love to the Father. He is acting for the benefit of those whom the Father loves. If the Father does not give the Son, if the Son does not offer up himself in death, then we will die. The atonement is substitutionary: Christ dies in our place. That being said, Christ's death in our place is not so much about submitting himself to the devil as it is submitting himself to the wrath of God. Look over Isaiah 53 and see the role that the LORD plays in Christ's death. "The LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all (6)...he was wounded for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his stripes we are healed (5)...it was the will of the LORD to crush him; he has put him to grief (10)."

Anselm's views on the atonement are influenced by his contemporary situation. Good luck finding any thelogian on any topic for whom this is not true. It's a flimsy reason for dismissing him. Instead, we need to investigate to what extent his views are also influenced by the teaching of Scripture. Furthermore, the underlying basis of feudalism is not unique to medieval history. It is, in fact, similar to the Suzerain-Vassal relationships that run throughout the OT and upon which the covenant with Israel was modeled. The NT writers were familiar with OT concepts. But we can even go beyond this. The concepts of justice and of punishment for breaking the law are not quaint and feudal. Transgression demands retribution. We have trangressed the law of God. Christ did not. We were not punished. Christ was. This is substitutionary atonement. The LORD crushed Christ so that he wouldn't have to crush us.

Next, Perry quotes from Scripture. Here it is as he has given it:

"Ps 51:16 For thou desirest not sacrifice; else would I give [it]: thou delightest not in burnt offering.
Heb 10:5-10 Therefore, when Christ came into the world, he said: “Sacrifice and offering you did not desire, but a body you prepared for me; 6with burnt offerings and sin offerings you were not pleased. 7Then I said, ‘Here I am–it is written about me in the scroll– I have come to do your will, O God.’ ” 8First he said, “Sacrifices and offerings, burnt offerings and sin offerings you did not desire, nor were you pleased with them” (although the law required them to be made). 9Then he said, “Here I am, I have come to do your will.” He sets aside the first to establish the second. 10And by that will, we have been made holy through the sacrifice of the body of Jesus Christ once for all."

I can only guess that this is to counter the position that the atonement is a price paid to God. After all, if God does not desire sacrifice and offering, then how could he be the one demanding such a payment for sin? Let's consider these passages one at a time. The first is not an absolute statement against sacrifice or burnt offering, but a statement against such things in the absence of a broken spirit and a contrite heart (v. 17). That these are not being set in opposition but in conjunction with one another can be seen in the final verse of the Psalm, "then will you delight in right sacrifices, in burnt offerings and whole burnt offerings; then bulls will be offered on your altar." The second passage quotes Psalm 40:6-8. Here, a contrast is made between the new and the old covenants. When Christ comes into the world, the system of sacrifices and burnt offerings is rendered obsolete. They were designed to be temporary and, once their usefulness is complete, God does not desire them. But this does not mean that God desires no sacrifice in the second covenant. Instead, he has prepared a body for Christ and Christ comes to do the will of God. Verse 10 explains what God's will entailed. The body of Jesus Christ is sacrificed once for all, thereby making us holy. Neither God's displeasure in empty sacrifice in the old covenant, nor his abolishing of the old covenant sacrifices altogether can be used to argue that he was not the one who willed the death of Christ in payment for our sins.

Concerning the Levitical system, Perry writes that it "was desired by God as a reminder and as something that pointed forward to Christ rather than something that turned away God’s wrath." There's really no reason to make a choice here. Yes, the Levitical system did point forward to Christ. It pointed to the once and for all sacrifice of Christ turning away God's wrath. In reference to the biblical language of Isaiah 53, Perry writes, "Christ died *for us* but that of itself does not imply the penal view that Jesus get’s punished on our behalf." From verse 5, "upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace." Nope, no implication there. This is language of punishment. But, according to Perry, "The language in those and other passages only licenses that Jesus suffers on our account and for our benefit..." Even here, he cannot escape the language of imputation. Jesus suffers "on our account." We have been condemned to suffer, but Jesus does it for us, on our account, in our place. And this suffering is not just a natural consequence of the devil's attempted homicide. It is punishment, or chastisement, inflicted on Christ by the one whose will it was to crush him.

The Christus Victor model, in which Christ uses death to destroy both death and the devil, does have biblical support, "Since therefore the children share in flesh and blood, he himself likewise partook of the same things, that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, and deliver those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery" (Hebrews 2:14,15). Certain points, however, are not evident here. There is no universal deliverance from death. He helps the children, who, in v. 10, are the sons brought to glory and, in v. 16, are the offspring of Abraham. Second, death does not involve annihilation, but the fear of death involves lifelong slavery. Third, nothing here indicates that destroying death and the devil was the only purpose of the atonement. In fact, if we go to v. 17, we see the same event, incarnation and all, from a different angle, "Therefore he had to be made like his brothers in every respect, so that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people." The phrase "to make propitiation" translates a single word meaning, "to forgive, with the focus on the instrumentality or means by which forgiveness is accomplished." Christ's offering of himself on the cross acomplishes at least two things: 1) it is the intrument whereby death and the devil are destroyed; 2) it is the instrument whereby God can forgive the sins of the people. These are not mutually exclusive concepts. This concept of propitiation is even more explicit in Romans 3:25. God has put forward Christ "as a propitiation by his blood, to be received by faith. This was to show God's righteousness, because in his divine forbearance he had passed over former sins." Here, we can see where God is vindicated and, although the passage itself doesn't mention him, we can deduce from other Scripture describing Satan's role as an accuser of the brothers, that God is vindicated over the claims of the devil. This vindication is not, however, removing the devil's right to annihilate people. That's not how it works. Because of the fall, all men deserve death. And yet, for centuries, God "passed over former sins." The vindication found in putting Christ forward as a propitiation is against the Satanic suggestion that God is being unjust in overlooking sin by not carrying out the sentence of death immediately. Paul finishes the thought by saying, "It was to show his righteousness at the present time, so that he might be just and the justifier of the one who has faith in Jesus."

Perry's third account of justification is the one that has to do with our salvation. I'm more interested in his second account, which is "the vindication of humanity against the power of death." Here, Perry is referring to rescuing all of humanity from annihilation. Evidentally, this is as far as the atonement gets us. Perry writes, "Everyone receives eternal existence but how they spend it, in ever suffering or ever blessedness is up to them." Works salvation at its most articulate. Perry contrasts annihilation as the wages of sin with the belief that the soul is naturally immortal, calling the latter "flatly false." But, the (unargued) assertion that the soul is not naturally immortal does not imply that the wages of sin is annihilation. Even if it were the case that the soul is not naturally immortal (and it may not be), we would still need positive evidence of its potential annihilation. The key here is "naturally." Immortality can be achieved in other ways than by what is natural or intrinsic. God can just keep it alive. The point is that Perry needs to prove annihilation, he cannot just posit it.

It is not sufficient for him to say, "The eternal life in Romans 6 is not at variance with my view since it is a gift and the gift is in Christ." Noting who the gift is in doesn't answer the question. We need to know who receives the gift. The context of Romans 6:23 is not universal. Paul is contrasting two sets of slaves: those who are slaves to sin and those who are slaves to righteousness. The same contrast is maintained throughout. Those who receive the wages of sin are slaves to sin; those who receive the free gift have been made slaves to righteousness. The idea cannot be that everyone is now a slave of righteousness and is therefore rescued from the wages of sin, for in Perry's view, it is up to those who are now not annihilated to decide how to spend eternity. This does not match Paul's description of the slaves. He does not place the focus on who owns the slaves, but on whom they obey. "Do you not know that if you present yourselves to anyone as obedient slaves, you are slaves of the one whom you obey, either of sin, which leads to death, or of obedience, which leads to righteousness? But thanks be to God, that you who were once slaves of sin have become obedient from the heart to the standard of teaching to which you were committed." If Perry wants to make this gift of eternal life apply to everyone, he needs to explain how those who end up persisting in hell can be described as "obedient from the heart to the standard of teaching." He needs to explain in what sense obeying sin leads to death if death has been wiped out for everyone because no on is annihilated.

There is no sense in which we can be united to Christ by degrees, first naturally and then naturally and personally. Our natures cannot be separated from our persons. If one is united to Christ, then so is the other. Besides, natural and personal union are not distinguished by uniting one or the both. As I have already mentioned, natural union is the union of persons in a nature and personal union is the union of natures in a person.

The question of whether the false teachers have actually been redeemed is not going to be settled by appealing to the terms used. We could just as easily conclude from Isaiah 55:12 that mountains and hills really do sing because we looked up the words in a dictionary and that's what they meant. There is more to literacy, however, than a knowledge of vocabulary. Perry wants to read II Peter 2:1 as speaking about redemption is such a way that the false teachers have been redeemed, remain redeemed, and are still swiftly destroyed. His solution is natural redemption only. But this has to be read into the text. Nothing in this text, or any other for that matter, supports such a notion. We could also read it to mean that they were redeemed at one time but end up losing their salvation due to their denial of the Master who bought them. This would seem to be the clearest reading if the text were considered in isolation. But there are other passages of Scripture that strongly suggest that redemption cannot be lost. So now we need to start comparing Scripture with Scripture to see which offers the more straightforward teaching. The chain in Romans 8:30, for instance, starts with those whom God predestines and ends up with them being glorified. It would be nonsensical if we inserted "some of" in each link. The idea is that all of those who are predestined end up being glorified. If II Peter 2:1 is teaching what, at first glance, it appears to be teaching, then there is a contradiction between it and other passages of Scripture. On the other hand, if we allow that Peter is using irony when he talks of "the Master who bought them," there is no conflict. The idea is not that Christ has actually bought them and that they are denying him in so many words. It is that the destructive heresies that they are bringing constitute a denial of Christ, even though they may protest to the contrary.

"My point," Perry writes, "in citing John 1:9 was to note that Christ is the source of life for all, and not to argue that all means each and every." But what is Perry's point here? He still believes that each and every person is a recipient of life. He continues, "Christ raises all up on the last day irrespective of their standing thereby showing that he is the source of life for all, which is why John 6 talks about his flesh as a source of life." I'm missing the connection here. In John 6, eternal life is granted to those who believe and who eat the bread. Since not everyone does this, not everyone is granted eternal life (otherwise, there is no point in giving the conditions). The "no distinction" of Romans 3:22 is Jews and Greeks (Gentiles). Both of these groups have sinned. We cannot take this to mean only some people in each group because of vs. 10-18. The indictment is universal. Perry is right about I Timothy 4:10. It doesn't work to say that God is the Savior of all people because he offers salvation. I retract the suggestion. On the other hand, there are even greater problems in making this passage universal. All without distinction is the best reading that comes to mind. In chapter 2:3,4, Paul talks about "God our Savior, who desires all people to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth." This comes immediately after Paul has urged that prayers be made for all people and then specifies what he means: kings and all who are in high positions. All refers to classes of people, not all without exception. It is not unreasonable to assume that Paul would be consistent in his use of the phrase "all people," especially within the same book.

More of Perry on hermeneutics: "Here is why you cannot go to every other passage. First because the theological commitments that guided you with this verse will guide you in evaluating the meaning of those verses making your appeal to the other verses question begging and circular reasoning. Moreover, if we have to go to what Scripture says everywhere else we would never be able to begin the exegetical task since every verse would have to be interpreted in light of its context and so on until we would have to understand the entire Bible first before we understood any part of it." This is ridiculous. No one is saying anything about going "to what Scripture says everywhere else." Immediate context, however, is another matter. So is consulting other passages of Scripture that speak to the same topic. We read a text of Scripture and understand it in some limited degree. As we learn more Scripture we start to make connections to other passages and to modify and improve our understanding of previous passages. It is not a matter of knowing all of it before we can know any of it. It's more a matter of fuzzy knoweldge growing more and more into focus as we become aware of increasing contexts. It is very possible to bring one's theological commitments to Scripture, thereby ignoring meanings of specific passages and contexts. It is also possible to derive our theological commitments from Scripture in such a way that those theological commitments help us to understand passages of Scripture and our increasing understanding of Scripture helps to mold our theological commitments. This is not a matter of circular reasoning, for while we interpret the more difficult passages in light of the less difficult, we do not turn around and interpret the less difficult in light of the more difficult. Perry would have us believe that it is possible to go to a specific passage of Scripture, read it with no regard to context, and thereby emerge with an unbiased interpretation. Bias, after all, comes from theological commitments. But Perry is just assuming that going to other Scripture will be so controlled by theological committments as to result in question begging. Perhaps his interpretation of a single passage is so pristine that he doesn't need to consider other passages of Scripture. Still, when an interpretation of verse X is questioned with the claim that it doesn't match up with verse Y, it is not appropriate to ignore the possibility while blaming the alleged contradiction on the theological commitments of whoever sees a problem. One could try to check the passages himself. It seems, though, that Perry is much more comfortable to let the contradictions stand. He gives an example, "So 2nd pet 2:1 can’t mean that Christ redeems everyone, not because there is anything in the passage that says that but because it conflicts with such and such theological commitments I have with these other passages. But I am not willing to give up these other commitments so 2nd pet 2:1 can’t mean that Christ buys everyone." Something is not occurring to Perry. Perhaps Perry is the one interpreting II Peter 2:1 according to his own theological commitments. Other passages can't mean that Christ doesn't redeem everyone, not because there is anything in the passage that says that but because it conflicts with Perry's theological commitments.

On Romans 5, Perry argues that it isn't talking in legal terms. "Forensic declarations and such can be consequences, but Paul seems to be talking about things done, like people sinning, dying, etc., which I generally don’t think of in terms as forensic declarations. Moreover, since Paul wasn’t a late scholastic nominalist I don’t see any reason to read Romans 5 as speaking about “forensic” declarations and such." I can think of reasons to believe that Paul is speaking in legal terms; namely, some legal terms:
law- a formalized rule (or set of rules) prescribing what people must do;
sin- to act contrary to the will and law of God;
trangression-to act contrary to established custom or law, with the implication of intent;
trespass-what a person has done in transgressing the will and law of God by some false step or failure;
judgment-the legal decision rendered by a judge, whether for or against the accused;
condemnation- to judge someone as definitely guilty and thus subject to punishment;
justification-the act of clearing someone of transgression.

Perry says, "The point is not the law which only serves to show what sin is, but rather that sin by Adam brought death and Christ brought life. The emphasis doesn’t seem in any way to be about a transfer of moral praise and blame but rather of a bringing of death and the bringing of life." Sin by Adam did bring death, but how was this the case? Was it immediate? Was it a natural effect? The context doesn't support an affirmative answer to either question. Death came as the result of a verdict of guilty upon Adam's sin. Even so, life is tied to being cleared of acting contrary to the law. "Therefore, as one trespass led to condemnation for all men, so one act of righteousness leads to justification and life for all men" (v.18).

Perry is "quite right to claim that Reformed theology is anthropocentric." Why? Because, "Take a look at all of the major Reformed systematics or commentaries. Everything is about soteriology per se. Anything that isn’t directly about soteriology is subsumed in some way to serve the explanatory needs of soteriology." I have looked at quite a few of them and this is not the case. Reformed theology does talk about other things. But, yes, the bulk of the theology is related to soteriology. However, this does not translate into "anthropocentric." Soteriology has such a prominent place in Reformed theology precisely because it has such a prominent place in Scripture. Revelation is primarily redemptive. God reveals himself to us in order that we might be saved. It does not follow, though, that the redeemed are the center of attention. It is, rather, the Redeemer. The point in Reformed theology is not what I can get out of God, it is, instead, how God can best be glorified. Whether he is worshipped for who he is or for what he does, God is the one who must receive the glory. If he has chosen to reveal himself as our redeemer, it is not our place to get self-conscious and spend our time talking about something less relevant but oh so much holier. God is most glorified in his work of redemption. If anything shifts the focus to man, it can be found in the topic of the broader conversation: soteriological synergism. Jesus keeps me from being annihilated and then I have to work my way up from mere persistence to glory. It's a lot easier to be Christocentric when Christ gets all the credit in the first place. For that matter, if God's primary revelation of himself has to do with redemption, then what about Perry's questions, "How much time is spent on preaching about salvation and how much about the doctrine of God? How much time is spent on what God does for you as opposed to who God is?" I suppose he wants us to reverse the trend. Talk about theology proper with no tie in to salvation. But then, maybe Reformed preaching is so obsessed with salvation because preaching means preaching Christ, preaching Christ means preaching his person and work, and preaching his person and work means preaching the Gospel. Any Reformed preacher who preaches "who God is" at the expense of the Gospel needs to be brought up on charges and removed from office.

Perry rightly corrects me in saying, "The language of reaching up and laying hold of the merits of Christ by faith is certainly the language of the Reformation era in its major exponents-Luther, Calvin, Zwingli, Bucer, Urisnus, Vermigli, et al." Nevertheless, the conclusions that he draws from this language are still in error. He wants to say that this is "semi-pelagian in origin." It makes for a nice bit if rhetoric, since Reformed theology is self-consciously as far from semi-pelagianism as it can get. The language of "reaching up and laying hold" does not imply any work or merit of our own. It should be understood in terms of what faith is: the instrument of our justification and a gift from God. The idea is not that faith is the means whereby we are enabled to reach up, but that the possession of faith constitutes the reaching up. This faith is not "a worthless virtue with respect to our standing." It is the sole instrument of our justification. It is that by which we are declared righteous. Moreover, our righteousness is not merely nominal. We need to distinguish between righteousness and the declaration of righteousness. God puts us into a real and living union with Christ. We are constituted righteous because he is righteous. This is not a nominal relationship. It is not a matter of imputation, it is not a matter of forensic declaration. The evidence of this union with Christ is found in our faith. On the basis of this faith, God declares us to be righteous and imputes the righteousness of Christ to our account. Declarations are, by defintion, nominal. However, the reality upon which the declaration is based is not. God declares me to be righteous according to my faith because he has already made me righteous in Christ.

Till...God's Great Judgment Seat

Clifton has combined a response to Darren's Jesus Christ and the Mark of Original Sin and my What to Do? over here. As he mentions, his response to me is not as detailed as before because Perry had already responded in the comments of my post. [Since then, Perry and I have added one more round over here.] Still, Clifton does bring up some points that are worth addressing. He says of my view, "Christ asumes a human nature that was created mortal, and thus heals it, but needs not assume original sin, since this is merely a forensic declaration." Actually, I'm saying that, because original sin is a forensic declaration and not inherited sin, Christ can be declared guilty along with the rest of us without any stain of personal sin. I do not subscribe to Clifton's rejection of the notion that Jesus was born under condemnation. He did die, and that not just as a natural consequence of taking on flesh, but in payment for our sin. I am aware of the biblical teaching of substitutionary atonement- the just for the unjust. Nevertheless, there is also the doctrine of union with Christ- that we are crucified and raised with him. Not only does Christ's bodily resurrection make our future bodily resurrections possible, but we have already been raised when he was raised from the dead.

Note well- union with our Federal Heads, whether Christ of Adam, is not forensic. It is actual. This is not a case of mere nominalism. It is not the case for those who are condemned in Adam that, first Adam sins, and then God declares us to be in Adam and, therefore, guilty. Nor is it the case for those who are justified in Christ that, first Christ is raised, and then God declares us to be in Christ and, therefore, justified. Instead, we are in real union with Christ while he dies and while he raises from the dead so that the declaration of his righteousness, based upon his fulfillment of the covenant, is also the declaration of our righteousness. In like manner, the union of humanity with Adam their Federal Head is the basis whereupon they can be declared guilty when he sins. Forensic declarations are not arbitrary. A just God cannot simply declare a verdict that does not match up with reality. If Adam had not actually sinned, there could be no declaration of original guilt. If Christ had not actually been righteous, then we who are in Christ could never have been justified (which is a declaration of righteousness).

The need for Christ to assume human nature existed before any consideration of Adam's sin. Man was created in order that God might dwell with him forever. To this end, the Son of God had to become incarnate and the Spirit of God had to glorify what had been assumed. It does not follow from the fact that man was created mortal that mortality was the original intent. The intent was that man become immortal by means of the work of the triune God. When Adam sinned, this intent was never abandoned. However, it did mean that the mission of the incarnate Son would now include doing what was necessary to reverse the forensic declaration. While it is quite true that only a forensic remedy is necessary if there was only a forensic change, we cannot ingnore the grounds of the forensic declaration. Adam was declared guilty because he sinned. The sinless life that Jesus lived, both in avoiding unrigteousness and in fulfilling all positive righteousness, was the basis on which he was declared righteous. However, a sinless life does nothing to pay the debt of guilt already incurred. Inasmuch as those with whom Christ has united himself have been declared guilty in Adam, he must also bear the penalty of this guilt. The wages of sin is death. The atonement is a matter of Christ paying the wages of sin. Christ must pay for sin and, thereby, be declared not guilty before he can be declared righteous on the basis of his sinless life.

The necessity of Christ's death is not tied to the mortality of human beings, although, the possibility of Christ's death is. Mortality is not the same thing as actual death; it is potential death. If Adam was created immortal, that is, incapable of death, then God could not have said to him, "In the day you eat thereof you will surely die." Immortal beings do not die. Mortal beings do not need to die. God has never demanded punishment for the state of mortality, only for the actual sin of Adam. Mortality makes the penalty of death possible; however, it is not to be confused with that penalty. Christ only dies on account of sin, not on account of man's original created state as mortal. The death of Christ is necessary to take away man's sin. The incarnation of Christ is necessary to heal man of his mortality- a mortality that, in itself, is not sinful. Had Adam not sinned, the Son of God would still have become incarnate, yet, with no need to suffer the penalty of death.

The incarnation is what frees us from our mortal nature and, as such, is the first step towards our becoming partakers in the divine nature. Although faith and forensic declarations of righteousness are necessary to our final union with God, neither one is sufficient to effect this union. This goes back to the incarnation, wherein Christ condescends to take on contingent nature. When his human nature is made immortal in his resurrection and on the basis of being declared righteous, we are declared righteous and the healing of our natures into immoratality is promised. This then is the basis of our heavenly fellowship with God and of the promise that we will "become partakers of the divine nature, having escaped from the corruption that is in the world because of sinful desire" (II Peter 1:4). [To answer the potential question, I distinguish between the world being created corruptible, which is not due to sinful desire, and the actual corruption, which does result from sinful desire.] Our relationship to God is not "always and only a forensic standing." The forensic standing can only be declared on the basis of that relationship. Union with Christ precedes justification.

Clifton writes that "under Darren's and Kevin's rubrics, we are our natures." No we are not. If this were the case, then my only Christological options would be Monophysitism or Nestorianism. I subscribe to neither. My only theistic options would be Modalism or Tri-theism. I subscribe to neither. All I have done is to insist that a person does not exceed his nature, that he is co-extensive with his nature. This is not the same thing as saying that persons and natures are the same thing. It means that there is no part of my person that is not human; there is no part of the persons of the Father or of the Holy Spirit that is not divine; there is no part of the person of the incarnate Son that is not both human and divine, without confusion and without separation.

Contrary to Cliftons's claims, it is not the case that "All justification accomplishes is that God works his will in us, in opposition to what we want, because we cannot even want justification and indeed are so naturally constituted as to always oppose God's will." This ignores the order of God's work. Justification itself may be forensic, but the declaration is based on what is real, on our union with Christ in his resurrection. It is not the case that a human nature "is always and only naturally opposed to the divine nature." If it were, and if Christ assumed a fully human nature- well, just imagine the internal conflicts. The absolute opposition comes from a human nature that is not energized by the Spirit of God. This is not the case for those who have been regenerated. Regeneration precedes faith, and faith is the instrument of justification. No one is justified in opposition to what he wants (which is not to say that no one is justified in opposition to what he once wanted).

Clifton objects to my contention that "infinite offense [predicated on the one offended, not the one who offends] demands infinite retribution." He writes, "The infinite offense against the divine nature cannot be satisfied by endless retribution of a human nature, for the natures are absolutely and qualitatively dissimilar." But this is not true. Human nature is not divine nature; nevertheless, they are not absolutely dissimilar. Man was created in the imago dei. We were designed with a point of contact between the human and the divine.

It has always been God's intent that his people partake of the divine nature. To this end, he creates man in his image, he assumes human nature, and he glorifes that assumed nature. Regenerate human nature is not always opposed to the divine; glorifed human nature is never opposed. The relation goes beyond forensic declarations. It precedes these declarations. The incarnate Christ is the one who is declared righteous in his resurrection. Consequently, assuming human nature precedes any forensic declaration. The divine wrath, which is predicated on divine justice and holiness, can never be satisifed against a mere human- if only because mere human beings cannot take the full measure of that wrath. Hell is the eternal exercise of divine restraint. It does not follow from this that the divine wrath against God's elect can never be satisfied in the God-man. There is no collapse in Reformed soteriology. Christ assumes original mortality and original guilt. In so doing, he bears the same condemnation as those with whom he has identified. He takes the penalty of this condemnation and is then justified on the basis of his personal righteousness. Forensic declaration is not the only remedy that bridges the gulf between God and man. Nor, though necessary, is it the primary remedy. That remedy is this: the Father elects those who will be put into union with Christ; the Son assumes our nature and is justified in that nature; on the basis of this forensic declaration, the Spirit glorifies that nature. The judgments of God are not merely forensic, but they are true and righteous.

Synergies of Christ

This post is a continuation of the monergism debate and is in response to Perry's comment (3/23/05) down here. The exercise of the faculty of the will always result in action, whether external or in thought; consequently, both faculites of the will in Christ must operate in conjunction. Moreover, it is the person, not the natures, that wills. For any one decision, only as many things as there are persons may be willed. One subject cannot will two different things. When Christ is praying in the garden, the Son is addressing the Father. According to their shared divinity, they have the same faculty of the will, but the things willed are according to the number of subjects.

I did not assert "that it is not possible for persons to be something more than a nature." The implication being that person and nature are synonymous. I said, "A person cannot exceed its nature; nothing can." The implication being that a person and his nature are both distinct and co-extensive. On this understanding of the relationship between person and nature, I rephrased Clifton's "Personhood must necessarily exceed nature," to, "It is in the nature of personhood to exceed nature." What a person must necessarily do says something about his nature and so the contradiction. Nature is both exceeded and not exceeded at the same time and in the same relationship. Modalism or Tri-Theism result from saying that a person is not distinct from his nature, not from saying that a person is not more than [does not extend beyond] his nature.

I did not claim of the Trinity "that the persons are nothing in themselves but only secondary to the essence." The claim that persons are nothing in themselves was not meant to convey the idea that there exist natureless persons who are nothing, but that persons without natures cannot exist. Moreover, persons cannot exist beyond their natures. This was a defense of equal-ultimacy, or co-extension, for any person. Persons are not secondary to their natures, but neither are natures secondary to the persons that support them. Perry also writes, "The idea that a person must have an essence isn't the same idea that a person is determined by their essence." This is true, but no one has said that this is the case. It is the will and actions of a person and not the person himself that are determined by his nature. Furthermore, this should not be understood beyond saying that a person always acts according to his nature. Better still, so this does not turn into a fatalistic determinism, a person cannot act against his nature. There can, however, be a range of options available within the nature, but the will will still be determined according to its strongest inclination at the moment of decision. We cannot explain why creation occurred; however, we can say that it did not go against God's nature.

Perry then writes a paragraph that demonstrates a complete lack of understanding of the Reformed position. It starts, "Monergists assume that an act that has merit before God must either be wholly mine or wholly God's but it cannot be both." The 'wholly mine' part is not true unless he's including Pelagianism among the monergists. As to 'wholly God's,' this doesn't capture it either. The point of monergism is not to establish a dichotomy between human and divine works. The difference is maintained between our works and the salvific historical works of Christ. In this respect, there is complete synergy between the human and the divine. It's just that we, personally, have no part in the work. There is no point in blaming a faulty Reformed Christology because the foundation of Reformed monergism is the synergy found in person of Christ according to his two natures. Monergism is not about the inherent impossibility of man pleasing God without God's antecedent help. It is first about the absolute impossibility of a mere man paying the penalty of sin. Secondly, it is about the superfluousness of man pleasing God in order to effect his own salvation when Christ has already done all the pleasing that is necessary.

Perry asks, "The question is does the divine will in Christ determine his human will?" The definition of the faith of the Sixth Ecumenical Council says, "And these two natural wills are not contrary the one to the other (God forbid!) as the impious heretics assert, but his human will follows and that not as resisting and reluctant, but rather as subject to his divine and omnipotent will. For it was right that the flesh should be moved but subject to the divine will, according to the most wise Athanasius." And, "For as his most holy and immaculate animated flesh was not destroyed because it was deified but continued in its own state and nature, so also his human will,although deified, was not suppressed, but was rather preserved according to the saying of Gregory Theologus: "His will [i.e., the Saviour's] is not contrary to God but altogether deified." Going back to the statements in the garden, this definition answers in the negative the contention that the same subject was willing two different things. The divine will does not determine the human will; however, the human will is subject to the divine will. The human will is determined by the human nature of the person, which, in this case, has been deified (without losing its own state and nature). Perry's observation that "if natures did determine agents then we would have to render the fall of humans and the devil inexplicable or it would be possible for morally perfect beings to sin," is true in regard to most Reformed theology. I have offered a possible solution here. The next phrase in his sentence, "in which case it would then be possible for people in heaven to sin as well as God" begs the question of his own position. If the will is undetermined, then how is it possible that people in heaven as well as God can't sin. If we attribute the inability to sin to moral perfection, then all we have said is that the will is determined by the nature. Either true freedom is not forfeited when the will is determined, or heaven is defined either by a lack of freedom or the presence of a sinful population, including God.

I will agree with Perry that Christ "has to assume every property essential to being human;" however, it does not follow from this that he takes on all of human nature rather than a human nature. The assuming of human nature does not constitute union with that nature; rather, it makes union with Christ possible. This union is personal according to our shared natures. The union is prior to our healing, which is begun in the resurrection and fulfilled in our glorification. The wicked have no part in this healing, evne though their bodies to come to life again. The plan to take on mortal human nature and heal it, thus uniting it with the divine, has pre-soteric intent. The main point in creating man was so that God could be united to his people. He could have carried out this purpose without the fall. There is no healing without divine union; consequently, those who remain wicked and spend eternity in hell cannot have been healed. The Reformed view of original sin is consistent with Chalcedonian theology. Christ does not become fully human by taking on all human nature, no more than I am in possession of all of human nature. It is sufficient that his human nature is the same as the human natures of all persons that are to be in union with him.

Perry asks what grace is. "Is grace created or uncreated?" He then answers for both Catholics and Protestants by saying that it is created. For the former it is a "created effect in the soul," and, for the latter it is, "a contingent relationship established between God and the individual." From this he concludes that union with God is made impossible. I'll let the Catholics defend themselves, but grace is not a relationship between God and the indivdual. That relationship is union with God. Grace, broadly speaking, is God being good to his creatures. It is a divine disposition and, therefore, not created. More accurately, grace is God's good disposition to sinners.

In response to my presentation of the atonement, Perry writes, "To see in the atonement a payment of debt to God is to foist an unargued for theory of the atonement onto the discussion, namely, the penal theory, which is quite distinct from the earlier scholastic satisfaction theory and the even earlier Christus Victor model." The penal theory is not all that distinct from the earlier satisfaction theory, which is extensively argued in Cur Deus Homo by Anselm. [I do have some reservations with his argument, which I have expressed here.] In both cases, satisfaction is made to God in the death of Christ. In the former, it is restore God's honor due to man's sin. The latter shifts the emphasis to a debt paid for breaking the moral Law. While it is true that Anselm developed the satisfaction theory in a European feudal context, it does not follow from this that it is therefore wrong and based only on the contemporary context. Perry's allusion to Hosea 6:6, "God desires mercy, not sacrifice," is hardly appropriate. The verse is not about the atonement. Bedsides that, why not take it even further out of context and say that God never wanted any kind of sacrifice. The Levitical sacrificial system, which was not about inspiring love, or paying the devil, or triumphing over the forces of evil, but about satisfying divine justice (you sin, you pay) never happened: God didn't want it. Furthermore, it was never God's intention to allow the sacrifice of his Son. Neither the moral theory nor the Christus Victor model can adequately explain why the atonement had to involve Christ's death. As to the ransom theory, God doesn't owe the devil a thing.

Perry segues into one of the more bizarre accounts of justification that I have ever read. It starts on the premise that "Death is the wages or consequence of sin and death here means annihilation." Okay, let's read the verse that states this, Romans 6:23, "For the wages of sin is annihilation, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord." But then, "Christ rescues everyone, even those who deny him (2 pet 2:1) from annihilation, which is why everyone is resurrected and receives a measure of eternal life." So now, "eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord" applies even to those who deny him. Furthermore, everyone is justified: "In Romans 5;18, how are we to understand that justification to life came to all men if not in the preceding way?" So far, this might be mistaken for your ordinary universalism. Not so, for Perry writes later on, "The scope of the redemptive work of Christ is universal with respect to nature, but not necessarily with respect to person." So then, in healing the natures of everyone, Christ rescues them all from annihilation. This is the free gift of God. Everyone is either declared righteous or made righteous, depending upon your view of justification. But eternal life and justifcation have no bearing on whether or not a person actually makes it to heaven and, supposedly, into union with God. The thing is, a nature, considered in itself, is not a thing that can be healed. Just as persons cannot exist apart from natures, there can be no human nature without human persons. If the nature of a person is healed, then it must inevitably follow that the person himself is healed. This is not a matter of failing to distinguish, but of refusing to separate nature from person. For this is what must be the case for those persons who are not redeemed even though human nature is. A person whose human nature is finally redeemed cannot be wicked and cannot deny Christ.

How should we understand the "all" of Romans 5:18? As all who are in union with the one who performs the righteous act, that is, Christ. Perry offers up other verses in which all just has to mean "every single person without exception." John 1:9, "The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world." A more accurate translation than this one (ESV) reads "all men" (panta anthropon) in place of "everyone." This is all without distinction. The gospel is for the all nations, not just Israel. The following verses contrast "all men" with the world and with his own [people]. These did not know him, nor did they receive him. In other words, they are not a part of "all men." I Timothy 4:10, "For to this end we toil and strive, because we have our hope set on the living God, who is the Savior of all people, especially of those who believe." Yes, I suppose that this one could be construed according to Perry's theology- God saves everbody from annihilation, but he really saves those who trust him. Or it could be all without distinction again. Or, more likely in light of the contrast, God is the savior of all people in the sense that the offer is genuine. II Peter 2:1, "But false prophets also arose among the people, just as there will be false teachers among you, who will secretly bring in destructive heresies, even denying the Master who bought them, bringing upon themselves swift destruction." Here, Peter is speaking, not of the actual status of the false teachers, but of their equally false profession.

Perry on hermeneutics: "Retreating to what 'the rest' of Scripture says first begs the question since the same theology will be at issue in the other verses." Quite possibly the first time I have ever been faulted for potential consistency. "Second, it is neglecting the task of exegesis. You can't just run to every other passage every time you find a difficult passage for your theology." Why not? Furthermore, it is not a matter of running to another passage and having verse feuds. It's a matter of alreay knowing what the rest of Scripture says and of being responsible enough to keep everything in context. "A verse must be exegeted on its own merits and not on what "Scripture" says everywhere else." Again, why? Why is it that, with any other interpretive difficulty, be it in literature, music, art, whatever, we are allowed to make comparisons with the author's other work, but, in Bible study, we must stick to the merits of the verse? Individual passages of Scripture do not have their own merits but are designed to be read in context. Exegeting a verse on its "own merits" is prooftexting at its worst. "What is really happening here is that a problematic piece of data is being interpreted according to prior theoretical commitments when we are being told that it is being interpreted on the merits of exegesis." Of course. And the whole idea that death is annihilation and that persons with a justified and redeemed nature still end up unredeemed themselves has nothing whatsoever to do with prior theoretical commitments.

To Perry, "it is not clear at all that Romans 5 is talking in legal terms instead of say consequential terms." First, these are not opposed to one another. Forensic declarations along with their punishment or rewards are consequences of prior acts. What kind of consequences are these? Are they in God's control or out of it? How can a tresspass, which is breaking the law, not have legal consequences? But then, I wouldn't see legal terms either if justification included healing the natures of those who deny Christ. Perry then makes another false claim about Reformed theology, "This is because the Reformed are anthropocentric rather than Christocentric. Their entire theology is constructed on the need to get guilty humans off the hook rather than seeing Christ as the fulcrum and center of every biblical teaching." Just within the confines of this discussion alone, Christ is the only one who merits salvation, Christ is the one with whom we are drawn into union, Christ is the one who assumes human nature in order that we might be healed; moreover, this healing and the intended incarnation of Christ precedes any notion of guilt.

Perry ends with this description of Reformed salvation, "The entire scheme of reaching up and laying hold of the merits of Christ is an essentially Pelagian or at least semi-Pelagian mechanic of salvation, even if it is supplanted by an Augustinian view of divine preemption. This is why any kind of sinfulness indicates for the Reformed that there is no justice present- it is an all or nothing deal because nature is identified with grace." So, how many Reformed people are buying this? First, the idea of "reaching up and laying hold" of anything is contrary to monergistic thinking- man is totally depraved and unable. Second, I've already dealt with the notion that nature is identified with grace. It isn't. Finally, it is not all or nothing; it is not a matter of sinfulness or justice. The Reformed affirm one of Luther's phrases, simul justus et peccator, "at the same time righteous and a sinner." The presence of sin does not cancel our standing in Christ once we have been declared righteous. Of course, in our sanctification, we strive to overcome sin, but the main focus is on Christ and what he has done for us. When our meditation is on him, we become more and more like him even as we are made more aware of our sinful state. Even so, we await the day when we will be completely righteous with no stain of sin. All of which will happen because grace is not nature but an intrusion of God into our natures whereby we are apprehended and our natures are brought into communion with his.

Nature of Persons

Clifton responds to my charge that his view of Gods' personhood is irrational by claiming that my God "happily conforms and confines himself to logical categories." If he means, as he tesitifies of his own view in the following paragraph, that God is "the font of all truth, and as such does not actually commit logical fallacies or contradictions, nor can such be truthfuly predicated of him," then yes, God is very happy to thus conform and confine himself. But, as Clifton is critiquing my view, I doubt that he means to imply that it is the same as what he has just affirmed. Rather, he wants the reader to infer that, in my view, God can be fully comprehend; which is altogether unlike anything I have ever implied. I do not contend that God can be fully grasped by reason alone. There are aspects of God, most of them I would venture to say, that we will never know simply by virtue of our finitude. My contention is not that God can be fully understood, but that what can be understood of him, due to its having been revealed to us, can only be predicated of God in rational and logical categories. Clifton's assertions of a God whose Person exists beyond his nature are an attempt at non-rational predication.

Clifton has stated that part of the difficulty is that we come from two different traditions. Understated at best. However, I would locate the divergence of traditin at a later time than he has chosen. I am currently unaware of any fundamental disagreement between Augustine and the Cappadocians. Clifton goes on to describe his views of the Trinity as taken from Oration XXIX by Gregory of Nazianzus. I have no real disagreent with this Oration and am left wondering what it has to do with this discussion.. That is, until I remember that Clifton is accusing me of subsuming personhood into essence. But this is not the case. I suspect Clifton believes that it is because, in his own view, Person is prior to essence. I argue that neither is the case but that both are equally ultimate- which is not to say that they are absolutely identical.

Let's examine some of Clifton's reflections on the Trinity. He writes that "the Godhead receives its essence, its divinity, from the Person of the Father." The Father begets the Son and sends forth the Spirit. [The filioque is irrelevant to the point since both sides agree that the Spirit proceeds from the Father.] But this implies more than what Clifton has asserted. Not just the essence of the Godhead, but the other two persons find their origin in the Father. Or should we imagine featureless person stuff that gets filled with divine essence and then drawn into the Godhead? No, persons and essence cannot be separated. When God begets the Son, he does so both as to his person and as to his divine nature. The one cannot exist without the other. And even if we see the Father, who is a Person, as the cause of the Godhead, he is not a Person who exists apart from his own nature. The Father does not exist prior to the divine essence, but begetting and procession are eternal. It is the nature of the Persons of the Trinity to be one God in which the relationships between the persons are expressed in terms of begetting and procession. Even though he is unbegotten and unproceeding, we cannot abstract the Person of the Father from the divine essence and claim that "Personhood exceeds the divine essence." The question is not one of "a God whose fundamental nature is one of essence." It is that the Persons of the Trinity all have the same divine nature, which, being coextensive with themselves, makes of them one God. This is not a matter of priority.

I, too, would be suspicious of anyone who can know anything of God's nature a priori. But it isn't like Scripture doesn't reveal anything about God's nature. God is revealed both as to his persons and as to his divine nature. It is not an either/or proposition. To say anything that goes beyond the nature of God is to say things about his Persons that go beyond what has been revealed about them. Clifton writes, "But if the Godhead is a Trinity of Persons, nothing we can predicate of God will be able to be limited to rational categories." This does not follow. We might say that the Godhead as a Trinity of Persons implies that there are many things that cannot be predicated of God, bu this is not the same thing as saying that that which can be predicated must go beyond rational categories.

Contrary to Clifton's claim, I do not resist the principle that God is beyond human comprehension. I only insist that what has been revealed must be predicated of God according to the dictates of truth. There can be no contradictions. At this point, Clifton takes me to task for claiming that his assertions "God is all-good" and "God is not all-good" are contradictory. He says that the only way these phrases "are contradictory is, in fact, we a) comprehensively understand what it means to speak of God's "all goodness" and that in so understanding b) we predicate the same meaning in both sentences." While b) follows, since a contradiction involves an affirmative and a negative statement about the same thing at the same time and in the same relationship, a) does not. The ability to recognize a contradiction need not involve any such understanding of what the terms mean. If it is the case that, "'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves/Did gyre and gimble in the wabe," then I can rest assured that, at the same time and in the same relationship, it is not the case that it wasn't brillig or that slithy toves were not gyring or gimbling in the wabe. Of course, it is also possible that b) is not the case, in which event there is no contradiction. But, once we have recognized that this is so, then it is a matter of further refining our language. It is not the case that "if we can never fully know what it means to predicate of God that he is "all-good," then we can never logically contradict ourself in claiming that God is not "all-good" since we can never know whether or not such terms as "all-good" have been used equivocally." We might be confused by someone else's use of the terms; however, when we say for ourselves that God is all-good, we should know what we mean as far as we do understand the concept. If there is a sense in which God is not all-good, then the person saying this should have some idea of what he means by it. No one needs to have full comprehension in order to know whether or not he himself is using a term univocally or equivically. In the same way, whenever we do run across seeming contradictions in Scripture, then we must assume that the same meaning cannot be predicated in both cases.

Clifton proceeds to make my case for me, saying that though God is beyond our comprehension, we "must speak meaningfully and truthfully of God. The Scriptures, the Ecumenical Councils, the Divine Liturgy, the writings of the Fathers are all testimony to the need for careful articulation of what we can know, in our limited way, of God." I have never implied anything to the contrary, only that Clifton, when he speaks of Personhood exceeding nature, does not follow his own advice. Furthermore, my own articulatation of the Persons and nature of God is not based, as Clifton claims, upon any need to preserve God's sovereignty. It is, rather, within the context of the larger discussion, based upon the need to preserve the reality of his Persons. Recall that my contention that God wills according to his nature is in keeping with the contention that all persons will according to their natures. Whether or not this is true is not immediately at issue; however, if I predicate this of all persons but deny it of God, then I have denied his personhood. It is not a matter of subsuming the Godhead into nature but of preserving any meaningful understanding of his Persons.

Fallen Nature or Lack Thereof

In this contribution to the discussion with Clifton on soteriology, which, originally, had been just between him and Darren, I suggested that the fall did not bring about a change in human nature but that original sin is nothing more than the declaration of Adam's guilt on all who are in him. In the following post, I said that I was willing to take this off the table. Not that I don't believe it, but that such a position, because it is not how Reformed theology has actually formulated the doctrine of original sin, might prove too much of a distraction in the debate between monergism and synergism. So I was a little surprised to see that there were aspects of this view that Darren wanted to consider. The purpose of this post, then, will be to a give a more complete account of my view of the fall along with some clarifications and answers to objections that Darren has expressed in this post and a subsequent one in which he was answering Clifton.

The doctrine of original sin received its first extensive treatment in post-apostolic church history in the debates between Pelagius and Augustine. I have written something on it here and here. The chief focus of Augustine's account of original sin is on the change in human nature that occurs as a result of Adam's fall. The debates that produced the Reformation served to give greater emphasis to the declaration of guilt in Adam as opposed to the declaration of righteousness in Christ. The WCF speaks of both imputed guilt and the inherited corruption that came about as a result of Adam's fall. It argues for an actual change in human nature when Adam falls in addition to a declaration of guilt on all who are in Adam. Other traditions within Reformed theology do not articulate the forensic aspect as much as the WCF; although, it is present by implication from the doctrine of justification in the Second Adam.

Here then is where I differ from standard Reformed theology. I believe that forensic categories are sufficient to account for original sin such that Christ's righteousness can be the basis by which we are delcared righteous. Original sin is nothing more than a verdict of guilty upon all those who were in Adam when, as their Federal Head, he failed to keep the commandment of God. All of which forces the question of how one accounts for a corrupt human nature, for our propensity to evil- for total depravity. An attractive feature of saying that this comes about as a result of the fall is that it exhonorates God of having created us in such a sorry state. Everything that he created was pronounced good. But then, I am not arguing that Adam had the same disposition toward evil as the unregenerate do. The fall produced a change in disposition, but not a change in human nature. To see this, consider what factor changes the disposition of the regenerate as compared to the nonregenerate. It is the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. People who have been saved are not completely disinclined to do evil. In fact, while they remain on Earth, there is a constant battle between the flesh and the Spirit. Basically, Adam was no more or less inclined to do make the wrong decision in a given situation than are any of the regenerate. He, as do we, had a human nature tempered by the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. Just as now the entrance of the Holy Spirit into a human being entails new life, even so, in Adam's case, the Holy Spirit's departure entailed death. The subsequent absence of the Holy Spirit from Adam's progeny, and not a fundamental change in human nature, is what accounts for their depravity.

A common view of redemption, even among Reformed circles, is to see it as a restoration of what was lost in Eden. Adam fell from perfection and Christ restores what was lost. The immediate problem with this view is this- what prevents man from losing it again? If it is simple restoration, then all previous conditions must apply, including those that allow for the fall in the first place. So there must be more to it. An alternative is to think that if Adam had not fallen, then we wouldn't have it so good. We would still be in Eden, not Heaven. But even this falls short. Redemption results in so much more than just redemption. It is not simply forgiveness and putting us back where we were only unalterably. Christ unites himself with human nature and thereby makes it possible for us to be brought into union with the divine. Surely such glories should not be considered as mere by products of a divine repair job. On the contrary, man was created with the intent that Christ would become incarnate and thereby fundamentally change man's nature for the better. This new nature would be perfect and incorruptible. In the meantime, man was created with a courruptible nature and had to merit the verdict whereby God, along with the incarnation, would effect this change. But Adam failed and the verdict was guilty. The Son of God, who as the prototype of humanity was all along to have become incarnate, also took on the role of the Second Adam. Now it was not merely a matter of raising a sinless but corruptible humanity into incorruption by assuming all that man was, Christ also had to pay the penalty for Adam's sin and he had to merit that which Adam had failed to merit.

The verdict of justification was still attatched to this fulfillment of merit. Furthermore, the promise of glorification, whereby man's nature would be fundamentally changed, was still attatached to the verdict. When Christ merited our redemption, he was justified. This verdict of righteousness is attatched to his resurrection. Once God has attatched glorification to justification, resurrection is inevitable. Christ is the firstfruits from the dead. Our resurrection into our new natures may not take place until Christ's return, but this resurrection has been insured by our justification and is assured to us by the earnest of the Holy Spirit in our regeneration.

To recap, the ony fundamental change in human nature is between that nature as it was created and human nature as it was intended to become by means of the incarnation of Christ. The difference in disposition between the regenerate and the unregenerate can be accounted for the agent of their regeneration, which is the Holy Spirit. Adam had the same disposition as those who are currenly regenerate but not yet glorified. For Adam, the possession of the Holy Spirit was a gift whose continued presence was conditioned upon meriting his eternal reward. For us, the Holy Spirit is given as a result of Christ's merit: he cannot be taken away again. Human nature as created has always been corruptible. The change in human nature through the incarnation of Christ is built into the original design of creation, with or without sin. It is, therefore, of no consequence to the fullness of our redemption to say that original sin is strictly a forensic declaration of guilt. The intended change was always to have been based upon a forensic declaration of righteousness and effected by Christ's assuming of human nature.

As I have mentioned, this is not the standard Reformed view, although I do believe it to be consistent with the basic outline of Reformed theology. I present it, not as a dogmatic declaration that I, the individual, am right as opposed to the Reformed church, but as a point of discussion. I also mentioned that I was willing to take this view off the table in the debates about monergism. Overall, the Reformed position is not jeopardized by affirming both a change in human nature at the fall and a forensic declaration of guilt. For my part, I believe that asserting such a change is superfluous. The more important point, which a lot of Reformed people miss in wanting to assert the sinlessness of Christ, is that Christ, in order to redeem us, must have taken on the same human nature that we possess. Consequently, if human nature is fallen, then it is a fallen nature that Christ must have assumed. Just as human nature has a tendency to corruption in the model that I have offered, even so, fallen nature need mean nothing more than that human nature has aquired a tendency to corruption after Adam fell. There is no need to think that fallen equals sinful. As far as what kind of nature Christ assumed, there is no need to insist on my views of original sin in the monergism debate. The chief advantage of such a view in this debate would be in accounting for the fall in a way consistent with a Reformed view of the will. Generally, there is no explanation for how Adam could have fallen if he had a perfectly good nature and the will cannot act against nature. If his nature is that of corruptible flesh indwelt by the Holy Spirit, then his odds of falling are the same as ours might have been.

Now to answer some of Darren's objections and observations. In response to my statement that Christ "is not himself sinful, but he shares with us in the guilt of Adam's sin," he writes, "I am not comfortable with talking about Christ as actually guilty of original sin, and that his punishment on the cross was therefore just. If the atonement is substitutionary, it must be in this sense precisely unjust -- not that God acted as an evil tyrant in torturing a guiltless party for the trangressions of others, but that Christ offered up himself for this very purpose. "

First, I must take the blame for some equivocation. Earlier, I had written, "for 'tendency to corruption' is not identical to 'guilty of sin.' In this usage, 'guilty' means actual and personal sin. On the other hand, when I speak of being guilty in Adam, I am referring to a verdict. Think of it this way: a man is accused of murder. If he actually did it, then he is 'guilty' by the first definition of the word. He is taken to trial and evidence is presented. The jury does their best to make the verdict match the facts of the case. However, once they have delivered their verdict, then, no matter what the accused actually did, he either stands guilty or not guilty. A verdict of guilty does not cause the man to have personally commited murder if, indeed, he didn't. In the case of original sin there is another factor- that of being in union with the Federal Head. The verdict, which is delivered by God and, therefore, infallible, is made on the basis of Federal Headship and not of personal action. Christ, by virtue of his human nature and union with Adam, can declared guilty of Adam's sin without any implication that the Second Person of the Godhead has personally and actually sinned, even if only according to his human nature.

The atonement is substitutionary viewed from the perspective of discreet personhood. The man Christ Jesus took the punishment for my sin. But it does not follow from this that the atonement was unjust, any more than it follows that the declaration of original sin is unjust because Adam was the one who actually sinned. Justice is contained in the idea of union with the Federal Head. If the only valid way to look at Christ's death is as a substitutionary atonement (and this is valid), then what do we make of Paul's assertion, "I have been crucified with Christ"? As to Christ offering himself up, a judge is still unjust and no less of a tyrant if he allows such a thing.

As a point of clarification, if original sin is forensic, then we do not inherit Adam's guilt (although we do inherit human nature). Guilt is declared upon those who are in Adam, just as righteousness is declared, and not inherited, upon those who are in Christ.

In Darren's next post, he writes, "This by no means implies that there is some post-Fall state of nature that [Christ] did not possess, and therefore could not redeem -- for there is nothing different about post-Fall human nature other than the stain of sin, both actual and inherited." So far, my point that there is nothing different. However, in the next paragraph, he writes, "I still contend that the Fall brought about an ontological change to human nature, so that rather than being inclined to sin man is now unable to not sin..." But he can't have it both ways. If there is an ontological change in human nature such that man is unable to not sin, and if Christ does not assume this nature as it has been changed, then we're back to the problem that "whatever is not assumed is not healed." The change from inclined to sin to unable to not sin is due, not to a change in nature, but to the absence of the Holy Spirit.

Next, Darren asks if my suggestion necessitiates "that Christ had what we (at least in Evangelical circles) would call a 'sinful nature'." No, it does not. It only necessitates that he actually took on human flesh. The concept of a "sin nature" is, in my view, an overreaction to a perceived gnostic interpretation of Scripture. Paul often speaks in terms of the flesh vs. the Spirit. And he actually says "flesh." But, of course this can't really mean "flesh" because that would be gnostic. And so we substitute the concept of a sin nature. The NIV even goes as far as to translate sarx as "sinful nature." But it doesn't mean "sinful nature, " it means "flesh." I see no textual reason to assume that Paul does not mean exactly what he says when he speaks of the flesh. The flesh as created is corruptible. The intent was always that Christ would assume it and thereby glorify it.

What to Do?

The topic is still monergism and Clifton's latest disagreement with it. He believes that it leads to monothelitism, which was condemned as heresy at Constantinople III, the sixth Ecumenical Council. I don't believe that he's made his case. Some background is in order here. For instance, what is monthelitism? Essentially, it is the belief that Christ had only one will. The orthodox doctrine is that Christ has two wills that will the same thing. It all looks rather academic on the surface, so you might wonder who cares. We need to back it up then to the issue behind this belief. Monothelitism came about as an attempted compromise between orthodox Christology and monophysitism, which was the doctrine that Christ had only one nature. Chalcedon had condemned this belief along with its opposite extreme Nestorianism. This was the belief that Christ had two natures, two hypostases, and one person. In this case, hypostases would be what we think of as persons and person would convey the idea of mere appearance. Both monophysitism and Nestorianism started within the bounds of orthodoxy. It was a matter of emphasis. Those on the one side believed that an emphasis on Christ's natures implied two persons, while those on the other believed that an emphasis on Christ's person implied one nature. Basically, this was a misunderstanding between Cyril and Nestorius, but some of their followers would actually develop the heresy that each man had feared. [For a more detailed account, I've written on the subject here.] Right now, though, the focus is on monophysitism.

There is an important principle in Patristic theology that whatever is not assumed is not healed. This idea has to do with the incarnation and it guided the formation of orthodox Christology. Consider some heresies. Docetism- Jesus only appeared to have a body. If he didn't really have a body, then our bodies cannot be healed. More to the point, our bodies cannot be saved. Adoptionism- the Christ Spirit descended onto Jesus' body at his baptism and left before his crucifixion. Again, inhabiting a body is not the same thing as assuming flesh. There were also views that Jesus became incarnate simply by taking on a human body. That is, his body was human, but, in place of the human soul was the Logos. In this case, the soul hasn't been assumed, but replaced altogether. The problem was always the same. If the Logos, retaining his full divinity, did not become human in every way, then we cannot be saved. Enter monophysitism. In this view, Jesus has neither a human nature nor a divine nature but a unique Christ nature. But if he has no human nature, then he cannot redeem human nature. Furthermore, it takes a divine nature to be able to redeem- and he didn't have this either. Christology is essential to soteriology.

In a lot of cases, monophysitism was not so much a commitment to a single nature in Christ as it was a reaction to perceived Nestorianism. Two natures would be fine but for a single hang-up: the will. It's just too easy to associate the will with the person. What I will, the choices I make, are too much a part of who I am. Consequently, to the monophysites, two wills implied two persons. Divide up all the other attributes between human and divine natures but two wills crosses the line. Or so they believed. Then a compromise was reached. The monophysites would agree that Christ had two natures if the orthodox would allow that Christ had only one will. Not all the orthodox agreed and monothelitism was subsequently condemned. Why? Because if a human will was not assumed, then our wills cannot be healed. In making this ruling Constantinople III affirmed something about the will. Contrary to the monophysites, who wanted to associate the will with person and, therefore conclude that there must be only will, the council associate the will with the nature and concluded that Christ must have had two wills. Both were logical conclusions based on the premises. Which leads me to a problem with Clifton's view. In his attempt to deny that the will is exercised according to our nature, he has affirmed that "Christ, the express image of God, exercised his will from his Person, and not from his nature..." But Clifton rejects monothelitism and asserts that Christ has two wills. Nestorians everywhere agree.

When I pointed out that his formula of two wills and two natures in one person was dangerously close to the Nestorian formula of two natures and two hypostases in one person, Clifton quoted the definition of faith as Chalcedon III. It does not support his formulation. The first part reiterates Chalcedon. Remember that monthelitism was an attempt to compromise with monophysitism. So the council talks about how Christ has two natures and in one Person. The definition goes on to say, "Defining all this we likewise declare that in him are two natural wills and two natural operations indivisibly, incontrovertibly, inseparably, inconfusedly, according to the teaching of the holy Fathers." They are not saying that he has two natures and he has two wills, too. Instead, the idea is that, based on the established teaching that Christ has two natures, it must be concluded that he has two wills, since the will is a faculty of the nature. Note that they are called natural wills. The definition goes on to answer Clifton's contention "that the exercise of Christ's wills, human and divine, was from his Person, not from either of his natures." It says, "...each nature wills and does the things proper to it and that indivisibly and inconfusedly."

A note on "two natural operations": these do not exist in disinction from the two wills. The council is clarifying how will is to taken. If the will is considerd from the perspective of what is actually done, then Christ only had one will. But this was not the question. It was, "When the incarnate Second Person of the Trinity wills, does he do so according to his divine nature or according to his human nature?" And the answer is, "Both." "Operation" is the same as what I have been calling "faculty."

Apart from what the monophysites assumed and what Clifton has asserted, is it even possible for a person to do anything in abstraction from his nature? Clifton descends into the absurd, arguing that "Personhood must necessarily exceed nature" and "God is not an essence, but is superessentially a person." Let me rephrase these, "It is in the nature of personhood to exceed nature." "God is, by nature, superessentially a person." Clifton is making assertions about personhood in general and the personhood of God. But it is not possible to make assertions about anything without saying something about its nature. A person cannot exceed its nature; nothing can. Clifton hopes to escape such logical contradictions by asserting even more of them. "God is all-good and God is not all-good, are, in fact, both true when predicated of God as Person." God's goodness "is beyond all human grasp, fallen or completely regenerated." Well, God's goodness and everything else about God may be -is- beyond human comprehension. But a contradiction is a contradiction no matter whose person you're trying to predicate it in. The argument about the antinomies of Sextus Empiricus fares no better. I responded to the same in the comment section here (3/17/05). In short, these antimonies lose their force if you define the terms according to what God has revealed about himself rather than according to some supposed universal standard.

Clifton's response to the antinomies is, "Rather, the ancient Church's insistence on approaching kataphatic theology from the starting point of the Persons of God preserves such theology from rational antinomies (at least antinomies that derive from the rational concepts themselves) and preserves the inherent paradox and mystery of the Trinity by asserting the Personal transcendence of what we might term God's nature.'' First, I'm not at all convinced that this was the approach of the ancient Church. Second, if we're left preserving inherent paradox or, even worse, avoiding rational antinomies by fleeing rationality altogether, then any chances of coherent discussion are pretty well shot. There's really nothing meaningful left to affirm.

No one is denying that it is Christ's person that acts and wills. Natures can do nothing. The language in the definition that "each nature wills' must be taken in context. It is a way of expressing that the person wills according to each nature. But even as natures do nothing in themselves, so persons are nothing in themselves. A person must have a nature. A person can never transcend his nature, for the ability to transcend anything can only be explained according to and as a function of nature. We would have to posit a metanature, which, in the end, would just be a nature. All persons, human, angelic, and divine, act and will according to their natures. Clifton is quite right that if we predicate willing according to nature of man that we must also predicate it of the persons in the Trinity. But the only argument he has offered against the divine persons willing in this way is in the assertion of an impossible "superessential personhood." Augustinian scholaticism knew very well what it was doing to argue about God from his nature. For, even if we always have God's persons in mind, we must either speak of them according to their nature or we must say nothing at all.

Let's go to Clifton's main contention that monergism implies monothelitism. Why would this be the case? First, some more definitions. Monergism comes from the Greek and means "one work." It is the belief that salvation is solely the work of God. Synergism is the belief that salvation is the result of God and man cooperating in their work. While monergists do believe in synergistic sanctification, this takes place only after salvation has been accomplished and settled. Sanctification is never seen as a way to earn or keep salvation. Monergists believe that salvation is all of grace and "not of works, lest any man should boast." Not all monergists have the same view of the will. Arminians, for example, believe that the will is free to choose or not choose to believe. Calvinists think that this is really a form of synergism, but Arminians, at least the ones I've met, don't see it that way. Calvinsitic monergism claims that the will is bound by its sinful nature. It can't will to cooperate with salvation so the salvation itself must involve a change of nature. God has to do this by himself. There is more to it than this, but this is sufficient for the present purpose. Clifton's argument is this: if it is the case that man's will is so bound that God must act in salvation by himself, then Christ's human will must have also been bound. And if Christ's human will was bound against God, but the divine will willed for God, then the human will was effectively non-existent. Therefore, Christ only had one functioning will, which is a form of monothelitism.

Leaving aside the question of how the will actually functions, let's go to the standard Reformed reply: Jesus' took on a human nature as it was created, not as it had fallen; therefore, his human will was not bound to a fallen nature. But there is a big problem with this answer and the Orthodox are well within their rights to call us on it. It is this, "Whatever is not assumed is not healed." If falleness is the disease of our nature, then it is fallen nature that must be assumed, it is fallen nature that must be crucified, and it is fallen nature that must be ultimately healed of its falleness in the resurrection. The Reformed generally reject this notion because they equate falleness with sinfulness. And Christ cannot be sinful. But this is not necessary. Clifton defines falleness in terms of death and a disposition to sin (which is not in itself sinful). Reformed theology would do well to adopt this view and to recognize imputed guilt as a distinct concept. I suggested that human nature never fell but is prone to death and corruption by virtue of its creation. Clifton quoted some verses about death coming into the world as a result of sin; however, these are not the clear refutation that he would have us to believe. The claim that man was not intrinsically immortal before the fall cannot be equated with the claim that God would have allowed him to die before the fall. The important thing, though, is where Clifton and I are in agreement: the nature that Christ assumed is the same as that which we now have. For purposes of this discussion, I accept his view of fallen nature.

More to the point, however, is Clifton's denial of imputed guilt, which is fully consistent with his advocation of synergism. In Reformed theology justification is a declarative act. God declares us to be righteous because Christ's righteous works have been imputed to us. In the same way, we had been declared guilty because Adam's sinful works were imputed to us. Salvation has two distinct yet inseperable components: 1) the healing of corruption and 2) forensic declaration of righteousness. In a synergistic system (and here I must note that, being more familiar with it, I am using the model of Catholicism over what Orthodoxy might be) the declaration is a matter of stating what is true at the time in regards to healing. A baptized infant is cleansed of original sin and infused with righteousness. The emphasis of justification is "to make righteous" rather than "to declare righteous." Once made righteous, the declaration can follow. But it isn't so much a judicial decree as it is a statement of fact. Rome criticizes the Protestant view of being a 'legal fiction.' When the justified person sins, he is no longer righteous and, therefore, no longer justified. Grace must be restored by further application of the sacraments. Purgatory is always available for those who die in a deficit mode.

In contrast, Reformed theology ties justification to the work of Christ alone. He bears the penalty of sin on the cross. In his resurrection the disease of sin is healed and he is declared righteous. There is no legal fiction here. Our own regeneration and justification is based on our union with Christ in his death and resurrection. At whatever time he pleases, the Holy Spirit regenerates us individually from being "dead in trespasses and sins" because he has already raised us up together with Christ. We are also declared righteous because Christ was justified in his resurrection. The forensic aspect of our salvation is a done deal. Objectively, God sees us in Christ and the work of Christ settles the matter. This is all monergistic. Christ has done the work. The healing aspect of our salvation considers us subjectively. It is a process between our regeneration and our final glorification in heaven. The initial regeneration is monergistic but subsequent sanctification is synergistic. The main difference between viewing salvation as a whole in monergistic or synergistic terms is that, in monergism the declaration does not depend upon our cooperation in progressive sanctification (although our cooperation is assured) but upon our positional sanctification in Christ.

Back to imputed Adamic guilt. The reason that we can be declared righteous on the basis of the works of another rather than on our individual works is because we have been declared unrighteous on the basis of the works of another. If Adam's sin did nothing more than to give us a disposition to unrighteousness, then Christ's atonement can do nothing more than give us a disposition to righteousness. The atonement was not merely about healing our natures (though that was a big part of it). It was the payment of a debt to God for our sins. How does a just God justify the ungodly? He doesn't if he wants to remain just himself. Forgiveness is not a matter of forgetting the former trespasses so long as arrangements can be made that they never be repeated. It is the acknowledgment of payment received. To put it another way, vengeance belongs to the Lord. When his holiness has been insulted, as is the case with sin, then his justice demands that this be made right. To answer a potential objection, I am not saying that we should withhold forgiveness until all debts are paid. Forgiveness is to be given freely as often as repentance requests it. But the reason that we can do this without offending justice is because, ultimately, all debts have already been paid in Christ. Vengeance is not ours.

But what about Scripture itself? Clifton states, "In none of these texts is guilt attributed to humans on the basis of Adam's sin." These texts would be the ones that he quoted to refute my views and to which I will limit myself. First, his premise begs the question that death merely means death. Death is a judgment for sin. Just as the resurrection of Christ entailed justification both for himself and for those in him, even so, the sentence death on Adam entailed condemnation both for himself and for all who were in him. Nor is this merely the kind of death wherein the body stops functioning for a while. It is eternal death, even as the resurrection is unto eternal life.

One might argue that my own premise, death as judgment, begs the question. Let's look at the context. Take the first passage Clifton considered, Romans 5:12-19. V. 15- "For if by the offence of the one man many died..." 'Offence' translates to paraptoma, which means, "what a person has done in transgressing the will and law of God by some false step or failure" (Luow-Nida 88.297). The word used implies that the result of death is a matter of judgment for breaking God's law. This is made explicit in v. 16, "For the judgment which came from the offense resulted in condemnation..." And even more so in v. 18, "Therefore, as through one man's offense judgment came to all men, resulting in condemnation, even so through one Man's righteous act the free gift came to all men, resulting in justification of life." Paul does not say that the offense made possible the conditions whereby judgment and condemnation might occur. Rather, the judgment came upon all men through one man's offense, not through the offense of the many in imitation thereof. This judgment resulted in condemnation. Neither judgment nor condemnation are intelligible apart from guilt. More to the point for the discussion of monergism, the free gift that results (not just makes possible) justification unto life came about through one Man's righteous act. Our eternal life, which is ours because we have been justified, is the result of the work of one Man, who is not us. This passage supports forensic declaration and cannot be used in support of synergistic salvation. One note on the "all" in v. 18. "The free gift came to 'all' men.." Keep this in context with the rest of Scripture. On the surface, this appears to be teaching universal justification. However, we know from other texts that this is not the case. I Corinthians 15:22 uses the word in the same sense, "For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ all will be made alive." That is, all who are in Adam die, and all who are in Christ are made alive. In any event, the text still does not support synergism, for a universalistic reading (which Reformed theology denies) would indicate universal monergistic salvation.

To move on, Clifton has attacked monergism based on its view of the will. However, though monergists have such a view, monergism is not ultimately predicated on the will. It is predicated on ability and what can actually be done. The question is not, "Can man want to assist in his salvation?" but, "What can man do about it?" The magnitude of an offense is according to the majesty of the one offended. Even if, for the moment, we leave off the question of Adamic guilt, we are guilty of our own sins. We have offended an infinitely holy God. What could we possibly do to pay for this? Infinite offense demands infinite retribution. This can be settled in one of two ways: 1) In a short time upon the God-man, or 2) during an eternity in hell for everyone else. You want to work for your salvation? Fulfill option two first and then God might discuss it with you. On the other hand, when Christ has taken the full brunt of God's wrath, there is nothing more to be done. Salvation has been accomplished on our behalf. It would be unjust for God to require anything else. If we keep in mind both the gravity of sin and the holiness of God, then the attempt to have something to do with our own salvation is not just the innocent activity of a child trying to "help" his parents. It is yet another offense against the character of God and the work of Christ. Can it be forgiven? Of course. But such forgiveness will result in sanctification. The non-repentance evidenced by continuing in synergistic activities can only indicate that regeneration and justification have never taken place. Synergism and monergism are contradictory modes of salvation. One of them is heretical. I have no problem if Clifton or anyone else wants to call monergism heresy. Let us then examine the reasons and appeal to the Word of God for a verdict. But, because this is a matter of salvation, neither side should be allowed to make a charge of heresy without the full measure of what that implies. My own views are evident. I can only hope that, for many who claim synergism, their artuculation does not match up with the substance of their deepest beliefs and actions.

A Matter of the Will

The comments section of my penultimate post of the discussion with Clifton over Tradition and Scripture has been growing by means of a conversation with Andrew, a large part of which is about the differences between synergism and monergism. In the meantime, Clifton has taken up the same topic in this post and a follow-up contending that monergism is heresy. Clifton deserves some leeway, since he has admitted that his "understanding of the Reformation theology and Calvinism is pretty much limited to the infamous TULIP." A lot of self-styled Calvinists also limit themselves to TULIP, which can add to the confusion. However, while TULIP is a legitimate part of Reformed theology, to limit one's self to it, or even to think of it as foundational to Reformed theology is to severely misunderstand that theology. The foundation of this theology is a proper understanding of Christology. Clifton rightly criticizes a lot of people within the Reformed camp for missing this; nevertheless, his criticism does not apply to the full-orbed theology itself. Now, I'd like to respond to some of the main points.

In other words, orthodoxy rejects the necessary presupposition of monergism that man is totally depraved not merely forensically but volitionally, and that such depravity excludes free will. But if one takes away that presupposition, monergism cannot go forward in its argument.
Monergism does assert man's forensic and volitional depravity; however, this is not the necessary presupposition behind monergism. It is not merely that man won't work with God to effect his salvation, or that, if he wanted to that he would still be unable to; although, both of these are true. It is, rather, that there is no work to be done. The triune God has done it all. The Father elects and then declares righteous on the basis of Christ's work, the Son pays the penalty for our sin and redeems us, and the Spirit effectually calls, that is, regenerates us. Once these things have taken place, salvation is as good as done. Nothing can change the outcome. In a broader concept of salvation, it also includes progressive sanctification, which is a synergistic work performed in cooperation with the Spirit of God. Yet, the monergistic work having been done, we cannot fail to cooperate. This does not take away our freedom, as I will attempt to explain below. Technically speaking, the Reformed do not claim that depravity excludes free-will, or to put it another way, free moral agency. The depraved person is perfectly free to will according to his strongest inclination.

Next, Clifton argues that monergism leads to monothelitism because it assumes either that Christ's human will was non-existent or that it was practically non-existent in that it wasn't truly free. I find this interesting since I have recently made the opposite contention. Before going any further, we need to distinguish between two different views of the will, commonly known as libertarian and compatibilist. The former is, by far, the majority view, and the one that Clifton has been assuming. Here, the will is not truly free unless, for any given decision, it could have chosen otherwise; that is, a free will must be an indetermined will. The will, in this view, is virtually equated with the ego or the self. To say that my will is free is to say that I am free and vice versa. Under this view, it is only natural to see any talk of necessary cooperation in sanctification as a denial of free will, for 'necessary' must imply unable to have chosen otherwise. The compatibilist view, also known as the Augustinian view, is developed during the Reformation, but does not come to its best expression until Jonathan Edward's The Freedom of the Will. Here, we as persons are free moral agents. There is a distinction made between ourselves and our will. The will is not indetermined, but is determined by the nature of the one who wills. For any given decision, the will will always choose according to its strongest inclination at the moment of decision. This inclination can be influenced by a any number of factors: the final and strongest of these is the nature of which it is a part. In this view, the will is not to be equated with the self, but is a faculty of the nature. As to what the will is, this is what Constantinople III assumed in its condemnation of monothelitism. Because the will is a faculty of the nature, then Christ must have had two wills, both human and divine, because he had two complete natures. Considering his own understanding of how the will functions, Clifton might want to reword his formulation of the Council's teaching. "Christ has two natures and two wills in one Person" is dangerously close to the classic formulation of Nestorianism, "Two natures and two hypostases in one Person." The will is not distinct from but is a component of the nature. I argue that the Reformed view of the will does not lend itself to monothelitism but is completely in keeping with the Sixth Ecumenical Council.

Strictly speaking, monergism does not distinguish the work of God from the work of man. It distinguishes the work of God from the work of all men who are not Christ. The work of redemption, performed by the Second Person of the Trinity, is done according to both of his natures. In this sense, salvation very much involves a synergistic cooperation between human and divine works. The point that monergism wants to get across is that Christ alone does the work. Monergism does not, in fact, apply to Jesus since, in his human nature, he is the only man who is able to cooperate with the divine work.

Under the correct premise that whatever is not assumed is not healed, Clifton observes, "And furthermore, if Jesus' human will was unfallen, it did not need to be saved. But if his human will was not saved, then it was never assumed into his Person in the first place and so neither is our human will saved." Later, he follows this up with, "A fundamental tenet of the Church with regard to salvation must be that of the Incarnate assumption of all things human, apart from sin." The Reformed response is that Christ does assume a human nature, but not a fallen human nature because "fallen" simply indicates a human nature that has sin. There is, however, a potential problem with this response. If the human nature of Christ is so separate from all other human nature such that it is not fallen but the rest are, then where is the connection? What is actually being assumed? Which is why I'm not completely satisfied with the Reformed response. But I do think that Reformed theology has all that is needed to reformulate this response. In order to do this, it needs to draw on two of its strengths: 1) the concept of the covenant and 2) our union with Christ. It also needs to consider a relatively recent emphasis in certain sectors on eschatology. Here, eschatology is not relegated to a doctrine of last things, but it primarily refers to the original intent of our creation, which was for God to unite himself to us by means of the incarnation. Eschatology precedes soteriology. The incarnation was not an afterthought of a creation gone bad but was the very purpose behind the creation.

Here is where I differ, then, with the usual understanding of Reformed theology, although, I do believe that I am being consistent with Reformed premises. The question of whether Jesus takes on a human nature as created or a human nature as fallen is moot because no change occurs in human nature as such after Adam sins. Original sin, which we all have as a result of Adam's sin, is a matter of forensic declaration due to union with our Federal Head. Period. The tendency towards corruption, which is shared by the regenerate and the totally depraved alike, is a result of our human nature as created. This is not contrary to God's declaration that man was created good, for 'tendency to corruption' is not indentical to 'guilty of sin.' This tendency is not something introduced by the fall, but is due to the simple fact that this creation is not the final and permanent eschatological creation. We were designed to be translated into that creation by means of our union with the incarnate Christ. In the meantime, this creation is, by its very nature, temporal and corruptible. What then accounts for the difference between those who are totally depraved and want nothing to do with God and those who, having been regenerated, respond in faith? The Holy Spirit, who is the agent of regeneration. Basically, I am differing with Augustine when he posits four states of humanity: pre-fall, post-fall unredeemed, post-fall redeemed, and glorified. For substance, pre-fall and post-fall redeemed are the same thing- corruptible human nature indwelt by the Holy Spirit. The difference is that our possession of the Holy Spirit is predicated upon our justification in Christ. He won't leave when we sin but will work with us toward sancitification. Back to the main point, though. Jesus assumes the same human nature that we have and is therefore able to heal it. He is tempted just like we are, yet without sin. He is not himself sinful, but he shares with us in the guilt of Adam's sin. Otherwise, it is unjust for God to punish him. Having taken the punishment for this sin, having done the work that Adam that failed to do, Christ is justified in his resurrection. By uniting with his people in their guilt and paying for that guilt, Christ remains united to his people and they are vindicated with him. The original intent of man's creation, which is that God might unite himself with man by means of the incarnation and live with him in perfect holiness, is fulfilled. I fully agree with Clifton's statement, "Christ, not Adam, is the archetype of humanity."

I started out by affirming TULIP but wanting to put it in its place, which is not as the foundation of Reformed theology. That foundation is Christ. Reformed theology is not about naked and arbitrary decrees, it is about the person and work of Christ. I have already written about the connection between Christology and Calvinism in the following two posts: Covenantal Calvinism and Sovereign Grace and Union with God.