My Bible vs. Our Bible

My Bible vs. Our Bible

by | Jan 28, 2024 | Biblical Theology, Confessionalism, Historical Theology, Practical Theology

Most of us have multiple Bibles positioned strategically (or not) throughout our homes. When we need a new one, we drive down the street to Mardel or click “Buy Now” on Amazon. Or, if you’re fancy, you might shell out the cash for a Schuyler on evangelicalBible.com. We make the purchase, and a copy of God’s Word becomes our possession.

This is one of the privileges of living on the other side of the 15th century, when the printing press was invented; and on this side of the Industrial Revolution, when mass production of just about any product became normal. Christians living before Gutenberg weren’t so fortunate. For them, just about everything they knew about the Bible came through someone they trusted, a priest or bishop, or perhaps an educated seminary professor. The communal aspect of reading and following God’s Word was integral to their identity as Christians. They could not know the Word apart from their relationship with other people.

This is not the case for us. We can pick up one of our many copies of God’s Word and read it by ourselves anytime we’d like. We can listen to the Bible while driving to work. And we can scroll through the Bible on our iPhones. While all of this convenience comes with numerous advantages we rightly relish, there is a drawback. This drawback can be overcome, even while maintaining the unique privileges we have in this age. But if it is to be overcome, we need to be aware of it.

The Bible Is Given by God to the Church

First, I want you to try and put yourself in the shoes of a pre-modern Christian.

You live from Lord’s Day to Lord’s Day. You are devoutly committed to your local church. And you commune with the saints regularly. You do not own a single Bible. The available codices are reserved for monks and missionaries, but not a commoner such as yourself. Everything you know about the Bible has been read to you by someone else. And you’ve been able to memorize a great deal. The words that you do know from Scripture are more precious to you than gold and rarer to you than jewels. You credit the possession of such treasure to the community you gather with week in and week out. Your church explains your survival. As a result, you see your church as a real lifeline. It’s vital. The only Bible you’ve ever seen is at your church. The pastor reads from it every Lord’s Day, and it was produced over the course of a year by a band of monks in a scriptorium a week’s ride from where you live.

It’s the church’s Bible.

On the Lord’s Day, when you attend church, that same Bible is visible at the front of the sanctuary. It never leaves the building. It is the people’s Bible. It might even be said that no one in your village would even know a single verse from Scripture if it weren’t for that one hand-copied Bible at your church. It is read in community, formative of the community, and understood by the community.

Okay, we can stop imagining. By now, I’m sure you get the picture.

It would be very difficult to individualize God’s Word in a society like the one described above. For the pre-modern saint, God’s Word was “our Bible,” not “my Bible.” Not only is this the case historically, but it’s also the case biblically. All of the epistles in the New Testament, even those originally addressed to individuals, e.g. Titus, Timothy, and Philemon (cf. Phil. 2), were intended for the church. The church is tasked with stewarding the Word of God and administering the Word of God through preaching and teaching. On several occasions, apostles Paul and John address “the church” in their epistles.

In 1 Corinthians 1:2, we read, “To the church of God which is at Corinth, to those who are sanctified in Christ Jesus, called to be saints, with all who in every place call on the name of Jesus Christ our Lord, both theirs and ours…” This epistle is given to the church of Corinth, narrowly. But it is given to the whole church more broadly. In 2 Corinthians 1:1 we see similar language, “To the church of God which is at Corinth, with all the saints who are in Achaia…” In 1 Thessalonians 1:1, we read again, “To the church of the Thessalonians in God the Father and the Lord Jesus Christ…” And once more in 2 Thessalonians 1:1, “To the church of the Thessalonians in God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ…”

The apostle John, in 2 John 9, writes, “I wrote to the church, but Diotrephes, who loves to have the preeminence among them, does not receive us.” In 2 John 1, John addresses “the elect lady and her children,” which is likely a metonymy for the church.

The Bible is given to the church. While this was more culturally obvious before the printing press and the mass production of Bibles, it is a conviction we can and should retrieve even while enjoying our technological advantages. Just because we have “our” Bibles (a blessing to be sure), doesn’t mean we should think of the Bible as belonging preeminently to “me.” It is God’s revelation given to “us,” God’s people, God’s church.

Communal Language in Scripture & Early Creeds

The Lord’s Prayer situates the subject within a communal context. In other words, the person who prays prays with his fellow saints. Look at the first line: “Our Father in heaven…” It begins with the first person, plural, personal pronoun, “Our…” Our Lord assumed His church would pray prayers like this one together. Similarly, the Scriptures themselves were to be read to churches. In 1 Thessalonians 5:27, Paul writes, “I charge you by the Lord that this epistle be read to all the holy brethren.”

The Nicene Creed follows this communal aspect of the Holy Scripture. It begins as such…

We believe in one God,
the Father almighty,
maker of heaven and earth,
of all things visible and invisible.

The Athanasian Creed begins in a similar fashion…

That we worship one God in trinity and the trinity in unity,
neither blending their persons
nor dividing their essence.

The Chalcedonian Definition likewise includes corporate language. It begins as such, “Therefore, following the holy fathers, we all unite in teaching that we should confess one and the same Son, our Lord Jesus Christ.”

Both Scripture and the ancient church following the 1st generation of Christians emphasized the communal structure of the Christian faith. The faith, along with the Scriptures from which it derives, belongs to the church and not to any individual or rogue Bible-interpreter.

Scriptural Abuses and Interpretational Accountability

I do not have the right to do whatever I want with the Bible.

One of the major issues with the Romish papacy is that it individualizes God’s Word at the highest political level. The pope, along with the college of bishops, have supreme authority to interpret the Bible. Historical interpretation aside, the small, elite class at the top gets to set the interpretive standard. Unfortunately, in our day, the “prerogative” of the pope has been assumed by pastors and lay people alike. “Me and my Bible” has become the arbiter of biblical meaning for many. Which is to say, it is now in vogue for many to think of themselves as self-made popes!

Though I may have the civil right to do anything I want with the leather and paper that make up my copy of the Bible, the substance of God’s Word is curated and interpreted by a Spirit-filled community, not by any single individual or elite class at the top. And while we must all come to our own conclusions as to what we believe the Bible means, this should not be done apart from the fellowship we have with other Christians, both dead and living. If the Holy Spirit works in me and you, He has worked in other Christians as well.

Since Scripture was and is given to the church and not to any one person, Christians must labor to understand and interpret Scripture within the context of that churchly community — a community of Spirit-enlivened saints.

Once we understand this, we are dutifully bound to humbly submit ourselves to the accountability provided by the “chorus of saints.” (Prov. 11:14; Rom. 12:16) Furthermore, once we grasp the Bible as the church’s book, we are liberated from the modernist burden of feeling as though we need to chart our own orthodoxy or re-invent the theological wheel. God’s people have been plundering the Scriptures for 2,000 years, and we are privileged to ride their coattails. This doesn’t imply a blind reception of any and every theological opinion. But it does mean that the theology and practice of the many, as represented in documents such as creeds and confessions, should hold more sway in our hearts and minds than any novel opinion offered within the last couple centuries.

Conclusion

Is it your Bible? Or is it our Bible?

While in a sense it is your Bible (you own a copy, and all the promises therein apply to you through Jesus Christ), it nevertheless belongs to the one body of Jesus Christ. This realization does two basic things. First, it keeps us accountable to the Holy Spirit as the Holy Spirit works in others beside ourselves. Second, it frees us from the burden of thinking of ourselves as “developers” of new, shiny theological constructs. When accountability is shrugged off for the “new,” and when theological innovation becomes the norm souls are hurt and Scripture is abused.

Scripture is “our” Bible. The saints are united in the interpretational task, and Christ is glorified where His saints dwell with one mind concerning the meaning of the text.

Abraham Booth on the Incarnation of the Son

Abraham Booth on the Incarnation of the Son

by | Jan 10, 2024 | Christology, Historical Theology, Systematic Theology

The “extra calvinisticum” is a fancy name for a proper understanding of the incarnation of the Son. If kenotic Christology suggests a conversion of deity into humanity (in some sense or other), the extra calvinisticum pronounces the full integrity of both divine and human natures united in the one Person of the Son, “without conversion, composition, or confusion…” (2LCF 8.2) The extra calvinisticum enjoys a rich reception by Baptists, both general and particular.

We could name several of our forerunners who affirmed this doctrine, from Benjamin Keach to John Gill and others. Indeed, it would be safe to say that the Christology of the Baptist movement falls right in line with that of Augustine, Aquinas, the Reformers, and the post-Reformation Puritans. The extra calvinisticum is simply a designation for a biblically orthodox and creedal article of faith that has existed throughout the ages. Baptists find themselves within this wider Christological tradition.

One such Baptist was the 18th century English pastor-theologian, Abraham Booth (c. 1734-1806). But before we get to Booth, we need to understand why his theology is important in the present moment.

Contemporary Christological Issues

In Sunday School, many of us learned simply that “Jesus is God and He became a man for our salvation” (or something like that). It’s a wonderful truth to be sure. But we live in a theologically imprecise season, and statements like the above have been taken in different directions that regularly depart from the orthodox formulation of the doctrine of Christ. To be sure, that simple Sunday School saying is completely orthodox, and while we could qualify some of the terms, there is nothing wrong with the words as they sit. It’s true as far as it goes — Jesus is God and became a man for our salvation. Yet, because of theological imprecision and malnourished theological training and teaching — within seminaries and churches — the word “become” has taken on some other-than-desirable connotations.

It’s now almost commonplace to assume the Son of God left some of His God-ness behind when He “became” man. Kenotic Christology has apparently become a normal assumption among the laity of Christ’s church. Sometimes the incarnation is described in terms of Jesus “leaving behind” some of His divine attributes. Sometimes it’s described as a period wherein the Son ceases to operate according to certain “divine prerogatives.” On a more extreme end of the spectrum, the Son may even be said to transform from deity into humanity. All of this is kenotic language, to one extent or another. But kenotic Christology is not what Scripture teaches, nor is it what our Protestant, baptistic forerunners have believed.

This is why Abraham Booth becomes relevant for us today. He was a clear Baptist proponent of the orthodox doctrine of the extra calvinisticum.

Abraham Booth’s Christology

In the recent reprint of The Works of Abraham Booth (vol. 1), we find rich Christological discourse, predominantly in chapter eleven, titled, ‘Concerning the Person of Christ by Whom Grace Reigns.’ In that chapter, Booth unequivocally affirms the hypostatic union. He writes:

It was absolutely necessary also, that our Mediator and Surety should be God as well as man. For as he could neither have obeyed, nor suffered, if he had not possessed a created nature; so, had he been a mere man, however immaculate, he could not have redeemed one soul. Nay, though he had possessed the highest possible created excellencies, they would not have been sufficient; because he would still have been a dependent being. For as it is essential to Deity, to be underived and self-existent, so it is essential to a creature to be derived and dependent. The loftiest seraph that sings in glory is as really dependent on God, every moment of his existence, as the meanest worm that crawls. In this respect, an angel and an insect are on a level.[1]

What a wonderful statement!

The one Person of the Son is both very God and very man. In the Person of Christ, two natures are perfectly united without “conversion, composition, or confusion…” (2LCF 8.2) By affirming this orthodox article of the hypostatic union, Booth lays the foundation for avoiding just about every variety of kenotic Christology, especially those which remain on today’s smorgasbord of confusion. But he further strengthens his position when discussing the distinction among the Persons in the Godhead. He writes:

Agreeably to this distinction, we behold the rights of Deity asserted and vindicated, with infinite majesty and authority, in the Person of the Father; while we view every divine perfection displayed and honoured, in the most illustrious manner, by the amazing condescension of the Eternal Son—By the humiliation of him who, in his lowest state of subjection could claim equality with God.—Such being the dignity of our wonderful Sponsor, it was by his own voluntary condescension that he became incarnate, and took upon him the form of a servant.[2]

Here lies a strong affirmation of the extra calvinisticum, that Christ while “in his lowest state of subjection could claim equality with God…” Booth also seems to cut against the grain of contemporary subordinationist theories as well. For “every divine perfection” was “displayed and honoured” in the “condescension of the Eternal Son…” And, this “Eternal Son” was “no way obliged” to perform “obedience in our stead…” If the Father’s authority was in the Father alone (at least to a greater degree than is in the Son), the Son would have been obliged to obey. Booth, however, avoids this notion. He goes on to discuss reasons the hypostatic union was necessary:

That it was necessary our Surety should be God and man, in unity of person. This necessity arises from the nature of his work; which is that of a mediator between God, the offended sovereign, and man, the offending subject. If he has not been a partaker of the divine nature, he could not have been qualified to treat with God; if not of the human, he would not have been fitted to treat with man. Deity alone was too high to treat with man; humanity alone was too low to treat with God. The eternal Son therefore assumed our nature, that he might become a middle person; and so be rendered capable of laying his hands upon both, and of bringing them into a state of perfect friendship.[3]

For Christ to be qualified to “treat with God” He must Himself be God. For Christ to be qualified to stand before God on behalf of man, He must Himself be man. Booth grounds the necessity of complete divine and human natures united in the one Person of Christ based on what the work of redemption requires. We might say that if Christ is not all God, even in His state of humiliation, His humiliation wouldn’t mean anything. Likewise, if Christ is not all man, there is no sense in which He could be humiliated (since God never changes).

Conclusion

Abraham Booth, along with many other Baptists from yesteryear, provide us with rich historical precedence for classical doctrines such as the extra calvinisticum. A reading of Booth and other 17th and 18th century Baptists, e.g. Benjamin Keach and John Gill, would reveal that the majority report in today’s (even Reformed) Baptist circles concerning the doctrine of God and the incarnation of the Son is not the historical norm. But more constructively, Baptists such as Booth provide plenty of Scriptural and historical food for pastors attempting to lead their flocks to the cool, clear waters of Christian orthodoxy.

Tolle lege.

Resources:

[1] Abraham Booth, The Works of Abraham Booth, vol. 1, (Knightstown, IN: Particular Baptist Heritage Books, 2022), 334-35.

[2] Booth, Works, vol. 1, 336.

[3] Booth, Works, vol. 1, 337-38.

 

The Theological Psychology of Gregory the Great

The Theological Psychology of Gregory the Great

by | Jan 3, 2024 | Philosophy, Practical Theology

Known best for the invention of the Gregorian chant, 800+ letters and tracts, and prolific Bible commentary, Gregory the Great wrote a short volume titled The Book of Pastoral Rule. I would not commend everything in the book, nor would I necessarily recommend it as an ideal pastoral handbook (he is the 6th c. Bishop of Rome after all).

But Gregory manages to open a window into pre-modern psychology. When I say “psychology,” I do not mean the stuff of Freud, Jung, or your therapist. I mean a theological psychology that takes for granted God, the immaterial soul, moral law, sin, and the gospel.

In discussing pastoral qualifications, Gregory glosses the psychology of curiosity, earthly cares, and shame. Below, I will look at what he has to say concerning each of these.

[For this article, I’ll be using a recent edition of The Book of Pastoral Rule, translated by George Demacopoulos. (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 2007)]

Gregory covers much more than what we will look at here. This is but a glimpse. But with limitations acknowledged, I’ll begin with the psychology of curiosity.

What Gregory describes might be called “distraction.” He doesn’t use the term curiosity. That designation is most popularly used in the work of Thomas Aquinas about 700 years later. And I think it’s helpful to use the word “curiosity” since it refers to such a culturally accepted vice. What makes Gregory’s words about curiosity psychological is that he not only describes it, but he offers a causal explanation for why it occurs. He says:

For when the mind involves itself more than is needful with external things, it is like [a man] who is so preoccupied on a long journey that he forgets where he is going. As a result, the mind is such a stranger to self-examination that it does not consider the damage that it suffers and is ignorant of the extent to which it errs.[2]

Gregory does much more here than simply define curiosity. He denominates and explains.

He denominates, because he mentions a particular species of distraction or curiosity, namely, a distraction from the reality of one’s own spiritual (and moral) state of being. Today, we’d call this “a lack of self-awareness.”

If you’ve ever interacted with or counseled a narcissist, you likely found that they are keenly aware of the failures of others, but entirely (and conveniently) aloof when it comes to their own failures—moral or otherwise. This is a fatal form of curiosity because it draws the subject away from an important God-given priority in life, i.e. spiritual discipline.

Gregory not only describes the nature of the distraction but seeks to explain it. It happens “when the mind involves itself more than is needful with external things…”

There are two things here: excess (intemperance) and subordinate matters. When a man over-indulges in less important matters (lower priorities) he is bound to be pulled away from that which matters most. In this case, he is drawn away from his own spiritual well-being to other things. This happens to such an extent that a person in such a state cannot perceive their own sin. And a person who does not see his or her own sin has virtually no need for the gospel.

The psychology of curiosity, for Gregory, seems to be an intemperance concerning what really matters—like a man who would trade the welfare of his children for promotion at work.

Psychology of Earthly Cares

Gregory describes another kind of cognitive disorder—earthly care. A man lacks awareness of higher matters by virtue of being “weighed down” through habitual vice. Commenting tropologically on the Mosaic law and its prohibition of certain bodily maladies, Gregory puts it this way:

The “hunchback”,” then, is one who feels the burden of worldly cares to such an extent that he never looks up to what is lofty but instead focuses entirely upon what is tread upon at the most base level. For this one, whenever he hears something good about the kingdom of heaven, is so weighed down by the burden of perverse habit that he does not raise the face of his heart because he cannot raise the posture of his thought, which the habit of earthly care keeps face down.[3] (Emphasis added)

Man is a body-soul composite.

Within the soul, there is the intellect and will. The body then supplies animal or sensitive appetites, which may be employed for the good so long as those appetites are brought under the control of the intellect and will. However, more often than not, our intellect is led by the lower appetites rather than the other way around.

Sin makes us think like beasts rather than men.

The preoccupation with “earthly cares” is explained by “perverse habit,” which invariably entails a prioritization of lower passions. When a man fails to control his lower passions through virtue, he will be influenced by outward, earthly stimuli—e.g. riches, sex, food—more than anything else. He “loses his mind,” as it were.

The man consumed by earthly cares has an ensnared heart or soul. Originally created to contemplate and enjoy God, the sinful man’s soul is enslaved to bodily passions. He cannot “rise” above what most pleases his senses, i.e. earthly things.

Psychology of Shame

Not leaving the previous context, per se, Gregory switches a small gear to those who delight in sinful thoughts. He describes this person as one who “is not carried away by sinful deeds, [but] his mind is entertained by lustful thoughts without any stings of repugnance.”[4] Gregory would likely grant that all sinners, including true Christians, struggle with taking pleasure in sinful thoughts. So he adds a qualifier. This is a person who doesn’t have a “struggle.” This is a person who goes without “any stings of repugnance.”

He elaborates:

A person, then, is ruptured when all of his thoughts sink to the level of lasciviousness, and he bears in his heart the weight of wickedness; and although he does not actively engage in shameful acts, nevertheless they are not purged from his mind. Moreover, he does not have the strength to raise himself to the discipline of good works because he is secretly weighed down by a shameful burden. (Emphasis added)

The psychological consequence of delighting in wicked thoughts is ethical impotence. The road to perdition is more like a downward spiral. As this man delights in wicked thoughts, he is less and less likely to turn the train around. The more he travels into the darkness, the dimmer the light gets.

When he thinks about turning his life around and tries to occupy himself with good works, the shame of his sin brings despair. His strategy becomes, “Well, I’m already here, I may as well remain.” Sin, in thought or deed, disposes a person away from God and toward more of their sin. This is why drug addictions rarely stop at marijuana, or why alcoholism is never limited to 4 beers a night. It’s why a porn addiction may turn into a real-life one-night-stand or long-term affair.

Sin has momentum. And part of this momentum is shame.

Shame is the burden one feels as a result of sins they’ve committed. And so long as that burden remains, there is very little incentive to turn things around. A homeless man learns to live without much food and no shelter. He becomes content with his station. Climbing out of the hole seems like nothing more than wishful thinking.

The effect the gospel has here cannot be underestimated. Shame is alleviated in the penal substitutionary atonement of Jesus Christ—where our sin is transferred to Him and dealt with for good. With the cleansing of the conscience following faith in the gospel, a door to renewal is flung wide open.

Conclusion

In pre-modern figures like Gregory, we find a thorough analysis of the whole man. It’s diagnostic, yet it’s far from secular. It’s neither materialistic nor naturalistic. Scripture plays a central role in his approach. At the same time, he doesn’t merely regurgitate biblical data expecting the reader to crunch it like a calculator or a computer. He deals with various aspects of man’s soul. He deals with the whole man. And this is par the course for pre-modern figures.

Speaking in a broad sense, the work of theological retrieval has much to offer in the area of anthropology. More specifically, however, it may also have much to offer in the field of Christian counseling or even clinical psychology.

Resources:

[1] Frederick Wilhelmsen, Man’s Knowledge of Reality, (Brooklyn, NY: Angelico Press, 2021), 3. He writes, “There is no distinct science of epistemology in the Thomistic sense of science.”

[2] Gregory the Great, The Book of Pastoral Rule, (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 2007), 34.

[3] Gregory, The Book of Pastoral Rule, 46.

[4] Gregory, The Book of Pastoral Rule, 48.

 

Hilary of Poitiers, Incarnation, & Partitive Exegesis

Hilary of Poitiers, Incarnation, & Partitive Exegesis

by | Dec 27, 2023 | Hermeneutics, Historical Theology

God and man are, well… different.

This fundamental assumption is called the Creator/creature distinction and is the bedrock of doctrines such as creation, man, man’s fall, and Christ the Redeemer. This all-important distinction is what sets Christian theology apart from false theological constructs like Pantheism, where it’s thought God and creation are essentially the same thing.

This Creator/creature distinction ought to be assumed in our interpretation of the biblical text. Not only does it become clear in Genesis 1:1, “In the beginning God created…,” but it’s explicitly stated in places like Numbers 23:19, “God is not a man…”

Especially important is the consistent application of the Creator/creature distinction as we think about the incarnation of the Son of God. The doctrine of the incarnation is Scripturally expressed in places like Philippians 2:6-7, “being in the form of God… taking the form of a bondservant…” This scriptural truth is enshrined in orthodox creeds like the Nicene Creed, which reads, “For us and for our salvation [the Son] came down from heaven; he became incarnate by the Holy Spirit and the virgin Mary…” The Creator, God the Son, became a creature. The task of theologians, therefore, is to read and exegete Scripture in such a way that does justice to the meaning of the text — which principally teaches this Creator/creature distinction. We should avoid reading Christological texts as if this Creator/creature distinction isn’t taught elsewhere in the text. It must be allowed to guide our reading.

In light of the incarnation — where Creator and creature are united in a single Person — how do we read the text in such a way that we do justice to its other claims, i.e. that there most certainly is a Creator/creature distinction, that God is not man nor man God? We do not want to read Scripture in such a way that violates the very foundations upon which Christianity stands.

Thankfully, there is a 4th-century French theologian here to help — Hilary of Poitiers.

Hilary & Partitive Exegesis

Partitive exegesis is the act of biblical interpretation that seeks to read Christological passages in light of the Creator/creature distinction.

Hilary begins with two fundamental assumptions:

  1. In the Person of Christ, there are united two natures — divine and human

     

  2. This union is without conversion, confusion, or composition (an assumption that functions to preserve both divine and human natures united in His one Person)

He writes:

So the Dispensation of the great and godly mystery makes Him, Who was already Father of the divine Son, also His Lord in the created form which He assumed, for He, Who was in the form of God, was found also in the form of a servant. Yet He was not a servant, for according to the Spirit He was God the Son of God.[1]

He furthermore adds:

Being, then, in the form of a servant, Jesus Christ, Who before was in the form of God, said as a man, I ascend to My Father and your Father, and My God and your God. He was speaking as a servant to servants: how can we then dissociate the words from Christ the servant, and transfer them to that nature, which had nothing of the servant in it? For He Who abode in the form of God took upon Him the form of a servant, this form being the indispensable condition of His fellowship as a servant with servants. It is in this sense that God is His Father and the Father of men, His God and the God of servants. Jesus Christ was speaking as a man in the form of a servant to men and servants; what difficulty is there then in the idea, that in His human aspect the Father is His Father as ours, in His servant’s nature God is His God as all men’s?[2]

The “Dispensation” is a reference to the “fullness of times” (Eph. 1:10) in which the Son of God was made “a little lower than the angels.” (Ps. 8:5; Heb. 2:7, 9) It is this “Dispensation” wherein the Son assumes flesh that He is regarded as less than the Father. The Father is Lord of the Son only as the Son is considered according to His human nature. However, according to the divine nature, Father and Son — while distinct Persons in the Godhead — are but one Lord. (Cf. Athanaisan Creed)

This two-natured union in the Person of the Son occurs simultaneously (so to speak). Both divine and human natures are united in the Person of Christ without “conversion, composition, or confusion…” (2LCF 8.2) Hence, Hilary says, “For He, who was in the form of God, was found also in the form of a servant. Yet He was not a servant, for according to the Spirit He was God the Son of God.” Both deity and humanity are true of the Person of the Son, but according to two distinct senses or natures.

The influence of this doctrine cannot be missed in Hilary’s exegesis. In the second paragraph presented above, Hilary pulls from John 20:17 to show how it and similar passages must be understood in light of the hypostatic union. To set up his commentary, he says, “Being, then, in the form of a servant, Jesus Christ, Who before was in the form of God, said as a man…” In other words, John 20:17 are words spoken by Christ, not according to His divine nature but according to His human nature. Hilary approaches the text with this in mind. 

Doctrines undergirding such an approach are those such as immutability and omnipresence. According to His divine nature, the Son cannot move from one place to another since He does not change (immutability), nor can He travel to a place in which He’s already present (omnipresence). John 20:17, therefore, must be spoken according to a nature other than the divine — a nature capable of ascending from earth to heaven.

Hilary further presses when he asks a rhetorical question, “How can we then dissociate the words from Christ the servant, and transfer them to that nature, which has nothing of the servant in it?” Not only would it be heterodox to transfer that which is proper only to the creature to the Creator, but it would also be utterly nonsensical. If there is “nothing of the servant” in God, how could texts like John 20:17 apply to the divine nature? If there were something of the servant in the divine nature, to what avail is the incarnation? Why would God assume humanity if humanity was already in God?

Conclusion

Concluding the matter, Hilary writes, “Jesus Christ was speaking as a man in the form of a servant to men and servants; what difficulty is there then in the idea, that in His human aspect the Father is His Father as ours, in His servant’s nature God is His God as all men’s?” Partitive exegesis allows Hilary (and us) to locate the proper place of subordination. Is the Son eternally subordinate? Or is He only subordinate according to His human nature? The latter must be the case upon a theological reading of the issue. Additionally, a partitive reading of Christological texts preserves both divine and human natures in their substantial integrity — avoiding the ever-present danger of blurring the Creator/creature distinction.

Resources:

[1] Hilary of Poitiers. On the Trinity. Kindle Edition. Loc. 5582.

[2] Hilary. On the Trinity. Loc. 5589.

Shall We Worship Love? The Dilemma of Denying Divine Simplicity

Shall We Worship Love? The Dilemma of Denying Divine Simplicity

by | Dec 21, 2023 | Confessionalism, Philosophy, Systematic Theology

“For since ‘God is love,’ he who loves love certainly loves God; but he must needs love love, who loves his brother.” ~ Augustine, On the Holy Trinity, Bk. 8, Ch. 8

Contrary perhaps to a first glance, Augustine isn’t waxing redundant. If God is love, it certainly follows that this love must be loved more than anything or anyone else. It is a love that must be adored, pursued, and even worshiped.

In 1 John 4:8, the apostle writes, “He who does not love does not know God, for God is love.” And again in v. 16, “And we have known and believed the love that God has for us. God is love, and he who abides in love abides in God, and God in him.” These two substantive clauses identify the perfection of love with God Himself. To put it more technically, the divine essence just is love, according to the apostle. Hence, as Augustine observes, this love must be loved. This love must be loved and adored above all else — for God is love.

But this causes a dilemma for those who would deny the identity of divine love with the divine itself. If love in God is God, this love must be worshiped. If love in God is not God, it must not be worshiped.

Let me try to explain…

The Doctrine of Divine Simplicity

The doctrine of divine simplicity (DDS) states that God is not composed of parts. Any parts. No really… there are no parts in God. Zip. Zero.

To put the doctrine of divine simplicity in the words of Herman Bavinck, “But in God everything is one. God is everything He possesses. He is his own wisdom, his own life; being and living coincide in him.”[1] To use the title language of James Dolezal’s helpful book, All That is in God Is God. The Second London Confession (1677) expresses the doctrine as follows, “The Lord our God is but one only living and true God; whose subsistence is in and of himself, infinite in being and perfection; whose essence cannot be comprehended by any but himself; a most pure spirit, invisible, without body, parts, or passions, who only hath immortality, dwelling in the light which no man can approach unto…” (2LCF 2.1; emphasis added)

According to DDS, any kind of partition or parthood in the divine essence must be denied. If mereology is the “study of parthood,” God does not have a mereology. Dolezal defines a “part” as “anything that is less than the whole and without which the whole would be really different than it is.”[2] Stephen Charnock expresses the same point, “the compounding parts are in order of nature before that which is compounded by them… If God had parts and bodily members as we have, or any composition, the essence of God would result from those parts, and those parts be supposed to be before God.”[3] In other words, if God had parts those parts would make Him who He is. He would be, in a sense, caused. To put it another way, God would depend on that which is more basic than Himself to be Himself. In sum, God would not be God if He were not simple.

Love in God, therefore, must not be thought to be anything other than God Himself. Hence, 1 John 4:8, 16, “God is love.” Love is not something God “has.” Love isn’t something God participates in with other beings. It’s not something more basic than Himself making Him to be what He is and without which He would be different.

The Dilemma of Denying the DDS

If God is love, we must love love, as Augustine observes above. But this means that the divine essence (God Himself) and love as it is in God must be the same. If this love were not God, it would be a gross error to love love as the highest good. It would be unthinkable to love, adore, and worship that which is not God Himself. To worship what is not God is to commit idolatry according to the first and second commandments. (Cf. Ex. 20) Thus, either love in God just is God, or it is not God. But if it is not God, it cannot be loved as the highest good, adored, and worshiped.

A denial of DDS (as stated above) would seem to imply a real distinction between God’s essence and the love that exists in God. But if this is the case, to worship and adore the love that is in God would be idolatry. Furthermore, the twin substantives in 1 John 4, i.e. “God is love,” would be nothing but poetic, if not hyperbolic, expressions. But this doesn’t seem likely given the identification of love with knowledge of God in v. 8. Nor would v. 16 easily permit flexibility in the language since it identifies the act of abiding in love with the act of abiding in God Himself, “And we have known and believed the love that God has for us. God is love, and he who abides in love abides in God, and God in him.” Abiding in love just is to abide in God, but this would not necessarily be the case if love and God were really different “things.”

The denial of classical DDS seems to encounter a dilemma — worship love or not. If love is not God, it would be a sin to worship it. If love is God, it would be a sin not to.

Resources:

[1] Herman Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics, vol. 2, (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2004), 174.

[2] James Dolezal, “Still Impassible: Confessing God Without Passions,” in Journal of the Institute of Reformed Baptist Studies, 132.

[3] Stephen Charnock, The Existence and Attributes of God, vol. 1, (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Book House Company, 1979), 186.