What Is Theoretical Theology?

What Is Theoretical Theology?

When we speak of theology as “theoretical” we are not speaking about something uncertain or non-factual.

The term “theory” comes from the Greek term theoria. It means “to contemplate.” Theoretical theology is what happens when we think, or contemplate, theologically. To put it more simply, theoretical theology is theology as it is known.

Theoretical theology is what we encounter while reading a system of theology, like Herman Bavincks Reformed Dogmatics or Thomas Aquinas’ Summa Theologiae.

Biblical Precedent

Scripture itself witness to the place of theoretical theology. There is an emphasis through Scripture placed upon the knowledge of God.

In Psalm 100:3 we read, “Know that the LORD, He is God; It is He who has made us, and not we ourselves; We are His people and the sheep of His pasture.” In Colossians 1:9, the apostle Paul writes, “For this reason we also, since the day we heard it, do not cease to pray for you, and to ask that you may be filled with the knowledge of His will in all wisdom and spiritual understanding…”

In Colossians 1:10, the prayer is that the Colossian church would increase “in the knowledge of God…” And in Colossians 2:2, they would attain “to all riches of the full assurance of understanding, to the knowledge of the mystery of God, both of the Father and of Christ…” The apostle Peter greets his audience, saying, “Grace and peace be multiplied to you in the knowledge of God and of Jesus our Lord…” (2 Pet. 1:2)

While all these uses of knowledge certainly move beyond a mere theoretical apprehension of doctrinal facts, a theoretical grasp of theology must be received by the intellect before the same can affect the will of man.

To use a popular illustration: theology is “head knowledge” before it becomes “heart knowledge.”

Conclusion

Theoretical theology is theology as it is known by the creature. There is another way of considering theology as practice, or practical theology. If theoretical theology is known, practical theology is that same theology lived.

Persons or Subsistences? Trinity In Theological Perspective

Persons or Subsistences? Trinity In Theological Perspective

The Confession (1677/89) states the doctrine of the Trinity as follows:

In this divine and infinite Being there are three subsistences, the Father, the Word or Son, and Holy Spirit, of one substance, power, and eternity, each having the whole divine essence, yet the essence undivided: the Father is of none, neither begotten nor proceeding; the Son is eternally begotten of the Father; the Holy Spirit proceeding from the Father and the Son; all infinite, without beginning, therefore but one God, who is not to be divided in nature and being, but distinguished by several peculiar relative properties and personal relations; which doctrine of the Trinity is the foundation of all our communion with God, and comfortable dependence on him. (2.3)

With a great deal of intention, the Confession employs the term “subsistence,” a noticeable change from the language used by the Westminster Confession, which instead reads, “In the unity of the Godhead there be three Persons of one substance…” (2.3, Emphasis added) Explaining this significant change in language, Dr. James Renihan states: 

More significantly, when introducing Trinitarian terminology, the text changes the WCF/Savoy language from persons to subsistences. Richard Muller has composed a lengthy article on the Latin term persona and its perceived liabilities in the history of Trinitarian discussion, asserting that subsistentia came to be a preferred term by some theologians, such as John Calvin.[1]

The term subsistence tends to avoid the confusion caused by the word person which, in addition to its historical obscurities, has of late taken on a unique psychological connotation binding the term to human features, e.g. reason, will, conscience, etc. As a result, modern social trinitarianism and tritheism tend to distinguish the persons along the lines of distinct centers of consciousness or distinct wills.

Kyle Claunch notes this in relation to the subordinationism of Bruce Ware and Wayne Grudem. He writes, “they are making a conscious and informed choice to conceive of will as a property of person rather than essence. This model of a three-willed Trinity then provides the basis for the conviction that structures of authority and submission actually serve as one of the means of differentiating the divine persons.”[2] It appears the modernist assumptions behind the term person have led to a conception of trinitarian relations as distinct intellectual beings—since they each consists of substantially different things, e.g. minds, wills, consciousness, etc.

Conversely, Cornelius Van Til arrives at the awkward language of, to paraphrase, “God the one person in three persons.” He writes, “Over against all other beings, that is, over against created beings, we must therefore hold that God’s being presents an absolute numerical identity.”[3] This is true as far as it goes. But Van Til misses out on some important language and distinctions, concluding, “[God] is one person.” He goes on to correctly note, “When we say that we believe in a personal God, we do not merely mean that we believe in a God to whom the adjective ‘personality’ may be attached. God is not an essence that has personality; he is absolute personality.”

Van Til obscures the manner of distinction between essence and subsistences by identifying essence and subsistences as a numerically single person. He is correct to say that “personality” is not something that God has, but something that God just is. However, he is incorrect to imply the elimination of personal properties by declaring the numerical singularity of personality in God. That God is one essence subsisting in three distinct modes or relations seems to be a consideration lost on Van Til, though seemingly implied in other areas of his work. While the essence and subsistences are substantially identical, there are yet personal properties distinguishing each Person one from another. Such a consideration would prevent the Van Tillian from collapsing the three Persons into one persona.

Renihan helpfully provides the missing piece in much of these contemporary discussions when he writes, “In his Marrow of Sacred Divinity, William Ames uses [subsistence] in these two ways. Prefixed to the front of the book is a brief glossary of terms. It defines subsistence as ‘the manner of being.’”[4] (Emphasis added) Francis Turretin likewise states:

Thus the singular numerical essence is communicated to the three persons not as a species to individuals or a second substance to the first (because it is singular and undivided), nor as a whole to its parts (since it is infinite and impartible); but as a singular nature to its own act of being (suppositis) in which it takes on various modes of subsisting. Hence it is evident: (1) that the divine essence is principally distinguished from the persons in having communicability, while the persons are distinguished by an incommunicable property; (2) that it differs from other singular natures in this—that while they can be communicated to only one self-existent being (supposito) and are terminated on only one subsistence (because they are finite), the former (because infinite) can admit of more than one.[5] (Emphasis added)

Hence, the language of the Confession, “In this divine and infinite Being there are three subsistences, the Father, the Word or Son, and Holy Spirit, of one substance, power, and eternity, each having the whole divine essence, yet the essence undivided…” (2.3) In other words, Father, Son, and Spirit just are the one divine essence. As the Athanasian Creed points out, “Thus the Father is God, the Son is God, the Holy Spirit is God. Yet there are not three gods; there is but one God.” The one and undivided essence subsists in three ways distinguished by personal properties—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

Each of these relations are explained by way of origination: the Father is unbegotten, the Son is begotten of the Father, and the Spirit proceeds from both Father and Son. As the Confession likewise states, “the Father is of none, neither begotten nor proceeding; the Son is eternally begotten of the Father; the Holy Spirit proceeding from the Father and the Son…”

The Athanasian Creed states, “The Father was neither made nor created nor begotten from anyone. The Son was neither made nor created; he was begotten from the Father alone. The Holy Spirit was neither made nor created nor begotten; he proceeds from the Father and the Son.” Further, the Nicene Creed also says of the Son, “We believe… in one Lord Jesus Christ, the only Son of God, begotten from the Father before all ages, God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God, begotten, not made…” And regarding the Spirit, the same creed says, “He proceeds from the Father and the Son…”

Resources:

[1] James Renihan, To the Judicious and Impartial Reader: Baptist Symbolics, Vol. II, (Cape Coral, FL: Founders Press, 2022), Kindle Edition, Loc. 2260-2265.

[2] Kyle Claunch, “God Is the Head of Christ,” in One God in Three Persons, ed. Bruce A. Ware; John Starke, (Grand Rapids, MI: Crossway. Kindle Edition), 88-89.

[3] Cornelius Van Til, Introduction to Systematic Theology, (Phillipsburg, NJ: P & R Publishing, 2007), 364.

[4] Renihan, To the Judicious and Impartial Reader, Loc. 2259.

[5] Francis Turretin, Institutes of Elenctic Theology, vol. I, (Phillipsburg, NJ: P & R Publishing, 1992), 282.

Is the Kenotic Heresy a ‘Wondrous Story’?

Is the Kenotic Heresy a ‘Wondrous Story’?

It occurred to me last night that ‘I Will Sing the Wondrous Story’, by Francis Rowley (1886), is explicitly kenotic in its Christology. Particularly in the following phrase appearing in the first verse, “How He left His home in glory for the cross of Calvary…”

What is kenosis? kenosis refers to the “emptying” of the Son regarding His incarnation. As far as it goes, the word is biblical in its verbal form, but it must be understood properly. When theologians refer to “kenotic theory,” however, they typically refer to a variety of erroneous interpretations of Scripture to the effect of the Son’s deity being changed, forfeited, or suspended upon the occasion of His incarnation.

Kenotic theory plays off the Greek term κενόω appearing in Philippians 2:7, “but made Himself of no reputation, taking the form of a bondservant, and coming in the likeness of men.” Some translations render it more woodenly, “but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men.” (ESV) Kenoticists hold that the emptying here refers to either a conversion from or suspension of the Son’s divine nature at the point of His incarnation. Orthodox Christians, on the other hand, have always understood the kenosis of Philippians 2 as an “emptying” through assumption rather than an emptying or change of the divine nature.

Those who hold to some form of the kenotic theory believe the Son ceased being God to one extent or another at the point of incarnation. Sometimes, this is framed in terms of a partial suspension of divine attributes. In other words, instead of affirming a hypostatic union, where two natures—divine and human—unite in the one Person of the Son, they affirm a hypostatic transformation, where the Person of the Son transforms from divinity into humanity. We ought to affirm hypostatic union rather than hypostatic transformation, for the following reasons—

Why Is the Kenotic Theory Wrong?

First, God—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—is immutable. Malachi 3:6 says, “For I am the LORD, I do not change; Therefore you are not consumed, O sons of Jacob.” If the divine Son converted or transformed from His divinity into His humanity, He would be mutable, changeable, and the doctrine of immutability would have to be denied. Instead, we want to say that the divine Person of the Son assumed another (human) nature. As Philippians 2 puts it, while “being in the form of God,” (v. 5) our Lord nevertheless took “the form of a bondservant.”

Second, this same God is omnipresent, which precludes locomotion, which is movement from one place to another. There is no place where God is not. The Psalmist rhetorically asks, “Where can I go from Your Spirit? Or where can I flee from Your presence?” (Ps. 139:7) That God the Son is omnipresent means that He did not have to move from heaven to earth to be on the earth. Rather, His Person was already “here,” being omnipresent. But that He would “condescend” to us, He assumed a nature relatable to our own, that is, He assumed a nature identical to our own, yet without sin. As Athanasius says in his notable work, On the Incarnation:

His body was for Him not a limitation, but an instrument, so that He was both in it and in all things, and outside all things, resting in the Father alone. At one and the same time–this is the wonder–as Man He was living a human life, and as Word He was sustaining the life of the universe, and as Son He was in constant union with the Father. (St. Athanasius, On The Incarnation (p. 19). Unknown. Kindle Edition. Emphasis added)

Third, the historical doctrine of the incarnation states that the Person of the Son, while remaining fully God, assumed the fullness of a human nature, “without conversion, composition, or confusion; which person is very God and very man, yet one Christ, the only mediator between God and man.” (2LBCF, 8.2) So, the Person of the Son is fully divine while also fully man. Again, Athanasius is helpful, “Not even His birth from a virgin, therefore, changed Him in any way, nor was He defiled by being in the body.”

Conclusion

So, how did the Son “get to the cross”? Not by leaving His place in glory nor by converting His divine nature into humanity, but while remaining fully divine He assumed another nature capable of change, locomotion, suffering, etc., that is, He assumed a human nature. And in this, His divine nature changes not one bit. Christ is one Person in whom are united two natures—divine and human. This is indeed a mystery, but it must be confessed.

Resources

Philippians 2:5-11
Romans 9:5
John 10:18

Does Scripture Teach Divine Simplicity?

Does Scripture Teach Divine Simplicity?

The short answer? Yes. Absolutely.

The question is not whether Scripture actually uses the word “simplicity,” nor whether or not Scripture articulates the doctrine of divine simplicity as the Second London Baptist Confession (2.1) does. The question is whether or not the concept of divine simplicity is necessarily contained within the text. And to this question we are able to answer with a clear affirmation.

Some have claimed that either Scripture does not teach simplicity or that it does not teach the simplicity found through church history, from Augustine to the post-Reformed Puritans. Concerning this latter claim, the simplicity in question has been derogatorily labeled “hard simplicity,” or, “hyper simplicity,” in favor of a looser simplicity admitting of a distinction between God’s “simple” essence and the several properties or attributes that accrue to and describe that essence. Of course, the response offered to such “soft simplicity,” is that the divine essence would itself require properties distinguishing it for those other properties or attributes not identical to it. In other words, the essence would require some kind of composition in order for it to be distinguishable from the attributes.

In any event, the purpose of this article is to survey a few texts which appear to require divine simplicity, the strong kind. These texts require a necessary God, who does not depend on anything more basic than Himself to be Himself. All that is in God is God.

All Things Are Through Him (Romans 11:36)

Scripture nowhere uses the term “simplicity” in relation to God. However, the concept is most certainly present and is necessarily inferred from several passages. In Romans 11:36, Paul writes, “For of Him and through Him and to Him are all things, to whom be glory forever. Amen.” This is a concluding statement that follows from a string of Old Testament citations in vv. 34-35, each of which were intended to emphasize the incomprehensibility of God stated in v. 33, “Oh, the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are His judgments and His ways past finding out!” Verse 34 asks, “For who has known the mind of the LORD? Or who has become His counselor?” A statement influenced by Isaiah 40 and Job 36. Observe also v. 35, “Or who has first given to Him And it shall be repaid to him?” Man can neither comprehend nor add to God.

In v. 36, this distills into Paul’s conclusion that all things are “of Him and through Him and to Him…”[1] There are three prepositions used. The first is ἐκ which insinuates that all things with an origin find their origin “of” or “from” God. The second is διά, “through” or “by,” and indicates efficient causality. God is the Agent that has not only created but acts upon every patient through sustaining, disposing, and governing all of them. The third is εἰς and denotes final causality.

All things are “to” Him, that is, He is the goal and end (telos) of all things. But if all things are of Him, through Him, and to Him the inference that God cannot be the sum of His parts is apparently necessary. If God is the cause of all things, it follows that He is uncaused. But if God is uncaused, then He cannot be explained by that which is more basic than Himself, e.g., by parts. As James Dolezal writes, “If God should be composed of parts, then these parts would be before Him in being, even if not in time, and He would be rightly conceived of as existing from them or of them.”[2] John Gill sees Romans 11:36 as a statement of efficient causality and comprehensive providence.[3] John Calvin concludes, “The import of what is said is—That the whole order of nature would be strangely subverted, were not God, who is the beginning of all things, the end also.”[4] If all things are from Him, God must be “without body, parts, or passions,” to use the language of 2LBCF 2.1.

God Is One (Deuteronomy 6:4)

Another more principial text to marshaled in service of divine simplicity would be Deuteronomy 6:4, the doctrinal confession of national Israel. It reads, “Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God, the LORD is one!” Naturally, the question becomes, “One what?” In this case, we are immediately brought to the question of being. What kind of being are we dealing with when we speak of this LORD that is one? In the strictest sense, no contingent creature can claim to be one.

Even the most basic creature is a constituent set of properties and components. But maybe the term for “one” isn’t being used in a strict sense. Perhaps it is only being used to distinguish the true God from other gods. It, no doubt, is purposed to such an end. But one wonders how the shema might distinguish the true God from false gods if, like the false gods, the true God also was a constituent set of properties or components. Instead of wood or stone, His constituent parts would be higher, more heavenly, and more unimaginable. But parts nonetheless. In other words, if the shema does not imply a simplicity of essential unity, the God it mentions is merely a greater creature, no more divine than a holy angel.

By Him Are All Things (Hebrews 2:10)

In Hebrews 2:10, a similar statement to that of Romans 11:36 appears, “For it was fitting for Him, for whom are all things and by whom are all things, in bringing many sons to glory, to make the captain of their salvation perfect through sufferings.” It is for or because of God that all things are. But if God was the sum of His parts, one would either need to deny the accuracy of Hebrews 2:10, or they would need to affirm the absurdity of God’s own self-causation. If all things are of God, then certainly those parts making God to be God, which themselves are not God, would also be of God.

Conclusion

It is not that Scripture uses the term “simplicity.” Nor is it that Scripture employs the philosophical terminology later used by Christians to expound upon this doctrine. Rather, the later philosophical language was brought into the service of articulating a core and necessary biblical truth. God is one. All things are through Him. He is through nothing other than Himself. God is not explained by a set of properties more basic than Himself. He is not who He is because of this or that attribute. He is. (Ex. 3:14) Simplicity, the hard kind, is nothing but the Bible consistently interpreted with regard to God and who Scripture has revealed Him to be.

Resources

[1] Tremper Longman III & David E. Garland, The Expositor’s Bible Commentary: Romans – Galatians, vol. 11, (Grand Rapids: Zonderva, 2008), 181.

[2] James Dolezal, All That Is in God: Evangelical Theology and the Challenge of Classical Theism, (Grand Rapids: Reformation Heritage Books, 2017), 49.

[3] John Gill, John Gill’s Exposition on the Entire Bible-Book of Romans, (Graceworks Multimedia, Kindle Edition), Loc. 7181.

[4] John Calvin, Commentary on Romans, (Ravenio Books, Kindle Edition), 406.

Classical Theism Takes On Divine Temporality

Classical Theism Takes On Divine Temporality

This article is an excerpt adaptation from a paper titled, “Divine Simplicity: Non-Composition, Necessity, & Divine Timelessness”.

The notion of divine temporality is an increasingly popular attempt to reconcile the temporality of creation with the necessary and eternal Creator. With the decline of classical metaphysics in the West, theologians and philosophers are left, once more, with trying to reconcile two inescapable realities: being and becoming. One way to do this is by assigning an eternal ontology to time itself, locating it as a co-eternal reality with God or otherwise placing it within God as a non-essential and eternal reality allowing possible succession in, but not essential to, the divine essence, e.g., intrinsic and extrinsic succession.

On the other hand, the doctrine of divine simplicity should be related to the classical understanding of divine eternality, or divine timelessness. Richard Muller defines aeternitas as follows, “By this attribute, the scholastics understand the existence and continuance (duratio) of God without beginning or end and apart from all succession and change.”[1] He goes on to qualify, “Eternity therefore transcends not only limited time but also infinite temporal succession, namely, time itself.” This is relevant to contemporary theories of divine temporality for the following reasons.

Conversing with Ryan Mullins & the Oxford School

Describing the Oxford school of divine temporality, Ryan Mullins states, “There are several ways to articulate an absolute theory of time, but one of the main underlying beliefs on the Oxford school is that time can exist without change. Time is the dimension of possible change.”[2] Further clarifying the Oxford school, Mullins adds, “time is a necessary concomitant of God’s being.”[3] According to Mullins, the Oxford school holds that, “Upon creating the universe [God] brings about intrinsic and extrinsic change in His life.

His present life then consists of a one-to-one correspondence with the cosmic present of the universe.”[4] But even granting the Oxford school’s absolute theory of time, one may just as well argue that if time is a concomitant of God’s being, representing a dimension of possible change, God would then be an admixture of act and potency. For He would have the potential to change from one state to another. This appears to be a clear denial of immutability—a doctrine that not only suggests God does not change but also that He cannot change.

There is one other problem. Given the doctrine of divine simplicity as discussed above, if God is an admixture of act and potency, contingency follows. At minimum, there would be act, i.e., God’s “to be” or esse, in addition to the potencies limiting that act.[5] Furthermore, this would result in a real distinction between God’s essence and His esse or existence. In this case, God would depend on that which is more basic than Himself to be what He is. He would be a composite object and, as such, not the first cause. Mullins may want to reply that any partition relevant to God wouldn’t necessarily take place within the divine essence.

Along these lines, he writes, “God is immutable in that His essential divine nature cannot change, but He can undergo non-essential intrinsic and extrinsic changes like becoming the Creator, Redeemer, and Lord of humanity.”[6] But one might wonder what, exactly, distinguishes God’s essence from other things in God that might change intrinsically or extrinsically. What is that which can change intrinsically or extrinsically to God in relation to the divine essence? And if both the divine essence and that which is not the divine essence constitute God, then there would need to be some properties inherent within the divine essence sufficient to distinguish it from that which does change in God. Mullins, after all, says God “is capable of undergoing change.” The result is that the divine essence would constitute in virtue of properties more basic than itself—properties needed to sufficiently distinguish it from other things in God.

If this is the case, the divine essence would not be immutable since, conceivably, it could change given the subtraction of one or more of said properties. Of course, the retort may be that this would not happen. But that is very different from saying this could not happen. For one might imagine such an essence without one or more of its distinguishing characteristics. To use the possible world semantics popular within analytical thought: There is a possible world in which one or more of those properties do not inhere within the divine essence. Hence, the divine essence would be changeable, not unchangeable.

Mullins, and presumably the Oxford school, seem to accept an Aristotelian notion of eternal time as a concomitant of motion. H. D. Gardeil writes:

Aristotle remarks that eternal things, things which are always, are not in time, since their existence is not affected by time and cannot be measured by it… But in another sense Aristotle also attributes eternity to motion. There has always been motion, he believes, and always will be. Thus the world itself is eternal.[7]

In other words, while there are eternal things outside or transcendent of time, nevertheless, for Aristotle, motion is also eternal and thus requires an eternal duration. The Oxford school is similar in that it requires the eternality of time and motion in a certain sense. Yet, in an advance beyond Aristotle, the Oxford school locates both time and motion in God whereas Aristotle conceived of a static deity. Distinguishing Aristotle’s metaphysics from the more nuanced medieval Christian synthesis, Gardeil continues:

Eternity, in its complete meaning, presupposes utter immobility and changelessness, or, in the succinctness of Boethius, the totally simultaneous possession of one’s entire life. When so understood, eternity is only in God, who alone is the substantially Eternal; of Him alone is it true to say that eternity is an essential attribute, that essence and life are one.[8]

Mullins, on the other hand, suggests a potential in God for mutation, “Since God exists necessarily and is capable of undergoing change, time exists necessarily.”[9] Aristotle saw both mutation and temporality as features of contingency. For this reason, he removed both from God who, in his estimation, must be necessary. But Mullins places both mutation and time squarely in God and, as a result, apparently contradicts his own stated belief that God is necessary.[10] For a necessary being to be necessary, it cannot be contingent; that is, it cannot be dependent upon that which is more basic than itself to be what it is, e.g., act, potency, essence, esse, etc.

Contingency & Creatio Ex Nihilo

In his book Jesus and the God of Classical Theism, Steven Duby writes, “God’s eternity is shorthand for his being without beginning or end and having fullness of life without that fullness being acquired or lost through temporal succession.”[11] To the contrary, Mullins states, “All divine temporalists hold that God has succession in His life subsequent to the act of creation, but some differences arise with regard to God’s life prior to creation.”[12] Granting the acquisition of succession at creation, this would entail an actualization of some potency “concomitant of God’s being.”

Not only does actualization of potency denote partition and thus contingency for reasons given above, but an actualized potency requires the acquisition of being that was not before in act. While Mullins maintains creatio ex nihilo in terms, one might wonder whether it may be reasonably retained in the Oxford school. If an actualization of some potential in God is requisite to His creative work, it would appear not that creation was made from nothing, but that it was made through some acquisition of being the Creator did not possess beforehand, i.e., succession, by which creation came to be. In other words, there would be two causes and explanations for creation rather than one. One of those causes would be God, and one of those causes would be temporality inasmuch as the latter explains God’s ability to create. Furthermore, to the extent temporality explains God’s ability to create, temporality—not God—is the first cause of the universe.

A startling thought to be sure.

Resources

[1]  Richard Muller, Dictionary of Latin and Greek Terms, (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2017), 18.

[2] R. T. Mullins, “Doing Hard Time: Is God the Prisoner of the Oldest Dimension?,” Journal of Analytic Theology, Vol. 2, 2014, 165.

[3] Mullins, “Doing Hard Time: Is God the Prisoner of the Oldest Dimension?,” 166.

[4] Mullins, “Doing Hard Time: Is God the Prisoner of the Oldest Dimension?,” 167.

[5] Bernard Wuellner, S. J., Dictionary of Scholastic Philosophy, (Fitzwilliam, NH: Loreto Publications, 2012), 42.

[6] Mullins, “Doing Hard Time: Is God the Prisoner of the Oldest Dimension?,” 165.

[7] H. D. Gardeil, Introduction to the Philosophy of St. Thomas Aquinas: Cosmology, Vol. 2, (Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock Publishers, 2009), 127-28. 

[8] Gardeil, Introduction to the Philosophy of St. Thomas Aquinas, 129.

[9] Mullins, “Doing Hard Time: Is God the Prisoner of the Oldest Dimension?,” 165.

[10] Mullins, “Doing Hard Time: Is God the Prisoner of the Oldest Dimension?,” 169.

[11] Steven Duby, Jesus and the God of Classical Theism, (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2022), 31.

[12] Mullins, “Doing Hard Time: Is God the Prisoner of the Oldest Dimension?,” 164.

Divine Immutability According to Scripture

Divine Immutability According to Scripture

One of the clearest texts to teach immutability in Scripture is Malachi 3:6. But it’s probably worth briefly showing how immutability is assumed and found throughout the Scriptures. The first text to teach immutability is Genesis 1:1, “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.” The Hebrew term for “beginning” (רֵאשִׁית) indicates the first moment of a succession of moments, and in this case, the first moment in the succession of all moments that ever were, are, or will ever be. God gives being to that which accounts for motion in the first place—time, space, and matter. Motion is impossible apart from those three things. And since God created those three things, it must be that He is before all of them, wholly transcendent of them, and thus not subject to them.

The immutable God is declared in the very first verse of Scripture. In Numbers 23:19, we read, “God is not a man, that He should lie, Nor a son of man, that He should repent. Has He said, and will He not do? Or has He spoke, and will He not make it good?” Whereas repentance is a change in the intellect and will, we are told here God does not undergo such. And in James 1:17, we are told, “Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow of turning.” Francis Turretin tells us that in this text:

Not only change is denied of him, but even the shadow of change, that he may be contrasted with the sun, the fountain of material light, liable to various changes and eclipses by which its light is intercepted. But God, the father of lights, acknowledges no tropics and can be obscured by no clouds since there is nothing to intercept his influence.[1]

In Malachi 3:6, we read, “For I am the LORD, I do not change; Therefore you are not consumed, O sons of Jacob.” There are four parts to this text: (1) God’s declaration of Himself as YHWH, (2) an inference drawn from what He is, “I do not change,” (3) an application to the created economy, “Therefore you are not consumed,” and (4) the beneficiaries of this unchangeable God’s favor, “O sons of Jacob.”

First, God’s sacred, covenant name, YHWH, is at once a name and a declaration of His own self-existence and independence from the creation. When God manifested His presence at the unburning bush in Exodus 3, He demonstrates His self-existence in that the fire appeared, enveloped the bush, yet did not depend upon the bush for its fuel. It was a picture of the unchanging God uniting the creation to Himself through His grace, but also a reminder that God does not need His creation to be God. Malachi 3:6 is an application of that self-existence in terms of God’s unchangeableness. God is self-existent and is thus unaffected by His creation. Creation does not leave an impression on Him. He does not change. He is sure. He is infinitely stable. Though this world waxes and wanes, though the people plot in vain, God does not change. He is the everlastingly cheerful and blessed God who rules creation. Creation does not rule Him.

Second, because His name implies all of this concerning His nature, He declares it plainly, “I do not change.” He does not say, “I do not change in this or that faculty,” or, “I do not change in this or that sense.” Rather, this is an absolute denial of change in God. The term used for “change” denotes the dying of a cloth. A white cloth may be dyed in several shades and colors of dye such that the cloth becomes different in some way. But, unlike a dyed garment, God does not become other than He is, in any sense. Not even in the sense that God remains God while something changes in Him or about Him. When a cloth is dyed, it remains a cloth even though something about it has changed. Even this kind of change is denied of God in these words.

Third, because of God’s stability and unchangeableness, God’s people are not consumed. God’s promises are only as sure as God Himself. God’s promise of grace and mercy toward His people rests in the cradle of God’s immutable nature. If God’s changed, God’s people would have no assurance of what God said. Furthermore, the whole of the Scriptures could become entirely inaccurate tomorrow. If God could change, what He promises could change too.

Fourth, the people or beneficiaries are God’s covenant people. While God does not change, He can affect change in the creation. He removes kings and sets up kings. (Dan. 2:21) But when paired with His promise to do no such thing, but to maintain His people, a promise which comes only through covenant given to that people, God will no wise change their situation to be other than what He promises through covenant. For example, the world cannot hope for a sure and stable salvation because they do not receive the sure and stable salvation that comes through a sure and stable covenant that comes from a sure and stable God. God can change and abolish covenants, but those changes are not in God, they are in His covenants and in His people. Furthermore, those changes in covenants are according to the terms of the covenants themselves which God promised. So, when the Old Covenant is abolished, according to Hebrews 8:13, it is abolished in accordance with what God had already promised to do, that is, to set up a new covenant in the blood of Christ. (Jer. 31:31-34; Heb. 8:7-12)

Conclusion

God does not change. While He affects change in His creation, there is yet no change in Him. Though He sets up kings and removes kings, changes the borders  of the nations regularly, brings disasters and prosperity upon God’s people seasonally, yet there is no change in God.

Resources:

[1] Francis Turretin, Institutes of Elenctic Theology, vol. I, (Phillipsburg: P & R Publishing, 1992), 205.