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Friday, July 18, 2025

The Flesh’s Need for a Visible God Leads to Apostasy

I was in a discussion the other day that shook me. I will share the conversation with you, because it crystallized a danger that I see creeping at the edges of our fellowship. It is the old danger, the most ancient of temptations, repackaged for a new era. It is the lure of idolatry, not of graven images, but of feelings and experiences.

A person who once professed our faith told me they had "drifted away" from the movement. I asked why. Their answer was telling. The faith, as they understood it from a Concordant perspective, "felt so dreary," and they "didn’t feel any kind of strong urge to connect with it or with scripture." Their faith, as they put it, "felt kind of dead," so they turned to partial preterism which "made it feel more alive."

My heart dropped. It was as if a thousand alarms within my own mind had been activated by those words. This is the very core of the religious deception.

To understand why, we need to examine one of history’s oldest temptations: idolatry.

Why is idolatry so vehemently [intensely] condemned throughout all of Scripture? It is because the flesh craves an idol. When Moses was on the mountain, what did the people of Israel demand of Aaron? "Make us gods that shall go before us" (Exodus 32:1). They did not want to trust in an unseen God who had spoken from a cloud of fire; they wanted something tangible, something they could see and touch and feel. They wanted a golden calf. The flesh always wants a golden calf.

The religious system has so thoroughly sanitized the concept of idolatry that most Christians think it simply means bowing down to a statue of Buddha or some other ancient deity. They fail to see that idolatry is the very air they breathe. The condemnation of it in Scripture is so vehement because it is a fundamental betrayal of reality, and its consequences are catastrophic, both for nations and for the individual soul.

The core of idolatry is the craving of the flesh for something tangible. It is the desire to control and contain God, to reduce the infinite, invisible Creator to a finite, observable object that can be manipulated and understood on our terms. It is the refusal to walk by faith.

Scripture condemns this in the most absolute terms, not merely as the breaking of a rule, but as spiritual adultery. In Exodus 34:14, God declares, "for you shall worship no other god, for Yahweh, whose name is Jealous, is a jealous God." This is not petty human jealousy. It is the rightful demand of a creator for exclusive allegiance. To give that allegiance to an idol is to lie about who God is. It is to say that the Creator is no different from a piece of wood or stone, a "thing that is nothing in the world" (1 Corinthians 8:4). This is the ultimate blasphemy. Isaiah mocks this absurdity with biting sarcasm: "He takes a part of it and warms himself... He also makes a god and worships it... The rest of it he makes into a god, his carved image. He falls down before it and worships, prays to it and says, ‘Deliver me, for you are my god!’" (Isaiah 44:15-17).

This brings us to the danger of idolatry, which unfolds in a cascade [series of events] of corruption according to Scripture.

First, it leads to a darkened mind and a debased understanding. Paul lays this out in Romans 1. It begins with a failure to glorify the invisible God. "Because, knowing God, they do not glorify Him as God or are thankful, but became futile in their thoughts, and their foolish hearts were darkened" (Romans 1:21). The first casualty of idolatry is the mind. By exchanging the truth of God for a lie, their very capacity to reason rightly is corrupted.

Second, this intellectual corruption leads directly to moral corruption. Paul continues, "Consequently, God gave them up in the covetings of their hearts to uncleanness, to dishonor their bodies among themselves" (Romans 1:24). The long, grim list of sins that follows in Romans 1 is not the cause of God's wrath; it is the result of their initial idolatry. God "gives them up" to the natural consequences of worshipping the creation rather than the Creator. The danger is a spiritual and moral downward spiral.

Third, and perhaps most profoundly, idolatry makes the worshipper like the idol. This is the spiritual law of gravity. The Psalmist states it with chilling clarity: "Their idols are silver and gold, the work of men’s hands. They have mouths, but they do not speak; eyes they have, but they do not see... Those who make them are like them; so is everyone who trusts in them" (Psalm 115:4-5, 8). If you worship a dead, mute, powerless object, you become spiritually dead, mute, and powerless. Your heart becomes as hard as stone, your mind as empty as carved wood. This is the danger that the person I spoke with has fallen into. They seek a faith that "feels alive," not realizing they are trading the living, invisible God for the dead idol of their own emotional experience.

Finally, the ultimate danger of idolatry is national and corporate judgment. The entire history of Israel in the Old Testament is a repeating cycle of idolatry followed by divine punishment and exile. "They forsook Yahweh, the God of their fathers... and they followed other gods... And the anger of Yahweh was hot against Israel. So He delivered them into the hands of plunderers who plundered them" (Judges 2:12, 14).

This is why the warnings are so vehement. Idolatry is not a minor theological error. It is a fundamental betrayal that corrupts the mind, debases the body, deadens the soul, and brings down judgment. It is the root from which all other sins grow. And it is the very foundation of the Christian religious system, which has replaced the invisible God and His simple Evangel with a complex trinity of its own making, with rituals, with religious experiences, and with traditions of men that nullify the Word of God.

God, however, is the polar opposite of an idol in every conceivable way. Idolatry is the religion of the flesh because it is the religion of sight. The entire system of God, as revealed in Scripture, is built on the opposite principle: faith in the unseen.

First, the idol is visible; God is invisible.

This is the foundational distinction. The golden calf was made precisely because the people could not endure a God who was merely a voice from a cloud. They demanded a god their eyes could confirm. But Paul defines our God as "the King of the eons, incorruptible, invisible, only God" (1 Timothy 1:17). He is the One "Whom no man has seen, nor is able to see" (1 Timothy 6:16).

This is why our entire administration operates on the principle that "we are walking by faith, not by sight" (2 Corinthians 5:7). Faith is the "conviction concerning matters which are not being observed" (Hebrews 11:1). To demand a visible, tangible, or even emotionally felt confirmation of God is to reject the very means by which He has chosen to relate to us in this age. It is to demand an idol.

God is not a golden calf. He is invisible. He cannot be contained in a temple made with hands (Acts 17:24). This is a direct affront to the desires of the flesh, which wants a sensory experience. It wants a "strong urge to connect." It wants a feeling.

The Christian religious system is a multi-billion dollar industry dedicated to manufacturing these feelings. It is a golden calf factory. With its emotionally manipulative music, its impassioned sermons designed to produce a response, and its constant social activities, it provides a steady stream of spiritual highs. It makes people feel connected to God. But this is not the peace of God; it is the stimulation of the flesh. It is a "form of devoutness" that has "denied its power" (2 Timothy 3:5).

The Evangel of grace, the truth revealed to our apostle Paul, does not offer this. It offers something far more profound, and to the flesh, far more terrifying: it offers rest. It is the cessation of striving. It is the end of trying to feel our way to God. Our salvation is not based on our feelings or our choices, but on the finished work of Christ. When one truly grasps this, the frantic search for a spiritual "urge" ceases. For someone addicted to the emotionalism of religion, this quiet confidence can feel "dreary." This peace can feel like a "dead" faith.

Second, the idol is a creature; God is the Creator.

An idol is the work of human hands, fashioned from created materials. Isaiah mocks the absurdity of this: "Those who fashion a graven image are all of them futile, and their precious things are of no profit... Who has fashioned a god or cast an image which is profitable for nothing?" (Isaiah 44:9-10). The worshipper is, in fact, superior to the object of worship, for they created it. It is a reversal of the natural order.

God, on the other hand, is the Uncreated. He is the one Who "is operating all in accord with the counsel of His will" (Ephesians 1:11). He fashioned us; we did not fashion Him. The relationship is one of absolute dependence on our part. We are the clay; He is the potter (Romans 9:21). Idolatry is the clay attempting to fashion its own potter.

Third, the idol is mute; God speaks.

The Psalmist declares of idols, "They have mouths, but they do not speak" (Psalm 115:5). They are silent blocks of wood and stone. They offer no revelation, no wisdom, no comfort.

In stark contrast, our God is a God who communicates. "The word of God is living and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword" (Hebrews 4:12). He spoke creation into existence (Genesis 1). He spoke through the prophets. He spoke in His Son (Hebrews 1:2). And He speaks to us now through the Scriptures, rightly divided. To turn from the written Word to seek a subjective feeling or an inner "urge" is to turn from the living voice of God to the silence of an idol.

Fourth, the idol is dead; God is living.

An idol is inanimate matter. It has no life in it and can give no life.

But Jeremiah declares, "Yahweh is the true God; He is the living God and the eonian King" (Jeremiah 10:10). He is not just alive; He is the very source of all life. It is in Him that "we live and move and are" (Acts 17:28). This life culminates in the great promise of the Evangel: "in Christ, shall all be vivified" (1 Corinthians 15:22). The idol is a monument to death; God is the author and giver of life.

Fifth, the idol demands; God gives.

This is perhaps the most crucial distinction for understanding grace. The entire system of idolatry is transactional. The worshipper must bring a sacrifice, perform a ritual, or generate a certain emotional state to appease the idol and earn its favor.

Our God is the polar opposite. Paul, speaking to the idolaters in Athens, declared, "[God] is not served by human hands, as if He needed anything, Himself giving to everyone life and breath and everything" (Acts 17:25). The religious system, with its demands for tithes, for service, for emotional fervor, is a form of idolatry because it treats God as a being who must be appeased through human works.

God is the perfect antithesis of an idol. Where the idol is visible, God is invisible. Where the idol is created, God is the Creator. Where the idol is silent, God speaks. Where the idol is dead, God is Life. And where the idol demands, God gives.

To seek a faith that is based on what we can see, feel, or experience is to reject the very nature of the God of the Bible. It is to turn back to the golden calf.

I understand the struggle. We live in an administration devoid of signs. God does feel distant at times. The flesh craves some visible proof, some emotional confirmation. But we are not called to walk by what the flesh craves. We are called to stand on the unshakeable foundation of the Word, rightly divided. Our connection to God is not a feeling; it is a fact, established by the blood of Christ and sealed by His spirit.

We must be vigilant. This desire for experience, for feeling, is the gateway to apostasy. It is the subtle whisper of the serpent, telling us that the quiet truth of God's grace is not enough. It is a lie. It is more than enough. It is everything.

Sorry if it feels like it’s been a while since I’ve posted. I doubt many noticed, since I don’t think my articles get much attention. Lately, I’ve been focused on learning more from Scripture rather than writing, there’s still so much I need to study and understand.

Wednesday, June 25, 2025

Does the Bible Answer Philosophy’s Hardest Question: You?

What are you?

Let's first talk about what you're not.

You are not a "soul stuck in a body", that is an idea with roots in certain streams of Greek philosophy, most notably Platonism. Plato, and philosophers influenced by him, often posited a dualistic view of human existence: a mortal, corruptible body and an immortal, pre-existent, and ultimately superior soul. The body was often seen as a temporary vessel, even a prison, for the soul, and true liberation or fulfillment was thought to occur when the soul was freed from bodily constraints, often through death, to return to a purer, spiritual realm. This philosophy emphasized the intellect and the soul as the true essence of a person, with the physical body being secondary or even a hindrance to spiritual or intellectual pursuits.

This contrasts quite sharply with the predominant Hebraic thought found in the Old Testament. In Hebraic understanding, a human being is typically viewed as a holistic entity, a nephesh chayyah, a "living soul" or "living being" (Genesis 2:7). This wasn't about a soul in a body, but rather the body, animated by the ruach (spirit/breath of life from God), became a living soul, a complete person. There wasn't the same sharp dichotomy between soul and body as separate, and often conflicting, entities. The body wasn't generally seen as a prison, but as an integral part of God's creation, formed from the dust of the earth and animated by God's spirit. Death, in Hebraic thought, was typically seen as a cessation of this integrated life, a return of the body to dust and the spirit/breath to God who gave it (Ecclesiastes 12:7), with the "soul" (in the sense of conscious personality) ceasing to exist in an active, disembodied state. Hope was generally placed in a future resurrection of the whole person, body and all, not just the liberation of an ethereal soul.

So, when we bring this to a biblical understanding of "consciousness," we find that it's intricately linked to this holistic view of personhood. Consciousness, as we experience it, appears to be an emergent property of a living, functioning human being, a body animated by spirit. Scripture doesn't really delve into a philosophical definition of consciousness in the way modern neuroscience or philosophy might, but it consistently portrays awareness, thought, emotion, and selfhood as functions of a living person. When a person dies, the Bible describes them as "knowing nothing" (Ecclesiastes 9:5), their thoughts perish (Psalm 146:4), and they are "asleep" (1 Thessalonians 4:13; John 11:11-14), awaiting resurrection. This suggests that consciousness, as we understand it, is not maintained in a disembodied state after death, but is restored at the resurrection when the whole person is made alive again.

I want to mention some other passages that often come up when discussing what happens after death, because they do seem, at first glance, to suggest an immediate conscious existence.

Take, for instance, Jesus' words to the thief on the cross in Luke 23:43: "Verily I say unto thee, To day shalt thou be with me in paradise." This is frequently understood to mean that the thief would be consciously in paradise with Jesus on that very day, immediately after their deaths. However, we need to consider a few things here. Firstly, Jesus Himself, after His resurrection three days later, told Mary Magdalene, "Touch me not; for I am not yet ascended to my Father" (John 20:17). If Jesus hadn't ascended to the Father (where Paradise, in the heavenly sense, would be located) even three days after His death, then He couldn't have been with the thief in Paradise on the day of their death.

Remember, Ancient Greek texts often lacked punctuation like commas so this verse could just as easily be interpreted as "Verily I say unto thee to day, Thou shalt be with me in paradise." In this reading, "to day" refers to when Jesus is making the promise, not when the promise will be fulfilled. He is assuring the thief on that day of a future reality: that he will be with Him in Paradise. This aligns with the thief's own request: "Lord, remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom" (Luke 23:42), a future event. Paradise, in this context, would refer to the restored Edenic state on earth, part of the Messianic kingdom, which the thief would enter upon his resurrection. From the thief's perspective, having died and being unconscious, the next moment of awareness would be his awakening in Paradise with Christ, making it feel like "today," even if ages had passed from an objective timeline.

Then there's Paul's statement in 2 Corinthians 5:8: "We are confident, I say, and willing rather to be absent from the body, and to be present with the Lord." This is often taken to mean that immediately upon death (being absent from the body), one is consciously present with the Lord. However, if we look at the surrounding context of 2 Corinthians 5, Paul is contrasting our present mortal, earthly "tabernacle" (body) with our future, resurrected, heavenly "house not made with hands" (2 Corinthians 5:1-4). His desire is not simply to be a disembodied spirit, but to be "clothed upon with our house which is from heaven," so that "mortality might be swallowed up of life" (2 Corinthians 5:2, 4). The being "present with the Lord" he longs for is in that resurrected, glorified state, which occurs not at death, but at the Lord's return when we are "caught up...to meet the Lord in the air" and "so shall we ever be with the Lord" (1 Thessalonians 4:17). Again, from the perspective of the one who dies, the next conscious moment after death is being with the Lord at the resurrection. Paul isn't detailing the intermediate state, but expressing his ultimate hope and preference for the glorified state with Christ over the current groaning in a mortal body.

And I also want to mention the souls under the altar in Revelation 6:9-11, who are depicted crying out, "How long, O Lord, holy and true, dost thou not judge and avenge our blood on them that dwell on the earth?" This vision seems to show conscious souls in heaven before the final judgment. However, the book of Revelation is highly symbolic. These "souls" could be a personification, a symbolic representation of the martyrs whose shed blood cries out for justice, much like Abel's blood cried out from the ground (Genesis 4:10). It's a powerful image conveying that God has not forgotten His martyred saints and that justice will be done. To take this vision as a literal, phenomenological description of the state of all disembodied souls risks misinterpreting the apocalyptic genre of Revelation, which uses vivid imagery to convey spiritual truths rather than to give detailed accounts of the afterlife. They are told to "rest yet for a little season," which itself implies a state of waiting, not necessarily full, active consciousness as we experience it.

These passages, when interpreted in isolation, can indeed appear to support an immediate, conscious existence after death. However, when placed within the broader scriptural context of death as sleep, the hope of a bodily resurrection as the point of being reunited with the Lord, and the figurative nature of some biblical language (especially in apocalyptic texts or when Jesus is using parables or metaphors), a more consistent picture emerges. The primary hope presented in scripture is not an immediate flight of the soul to heaven at death, but the resurrection of the whole person at Christ's coming to inherit age-during life and, for the Body of Christ, to be with the Lord in our glorified, heavenly bodies.

Now, I want to mention something I saw in a video that raises an interesting, if somewhat unsettling, thought experiment related to this. The idea was presented that every time you go to sleep and become unconscious, for all you know, you could have effectively "died," and the person who wakes up with your memories is essentially a new creature, a perfect copy. This leads to the question: if "you" ceased to exist during that unconscious state, what is the continuity of self? The video then likened Star Trek transporters to "suicide boxes", where the original person is dematerialized (dies) and a perfect copy is reassembled elsewhere.

From a biblical perspective, the Star Trek transporter analogy, while thought-provoking, doesn't quite capture the essence of what it means to be "you."

If we understand "you" not as an independent, immortal soul-substance that merely inhabits a body, but as the integrated whole of your being, body, spirit (as the life-force from God), and the resulting soul (conscious personality), then the continuity of "you" is upheld by God Himself.

When you sleep, your consciousness may diminish or cease in the way you actively experience it while awake, but the potential for your specific consciousness, tied to your unique physical being and life-history (which God sustains), remains. God, who "giveth to all life, and breath, and all things" (Acts 17:25) and in whom "we live, and move, and have our being" (Acts 17:28), is the ultimate guarantor of your continuity. He doesn't need to create a "new creature" with your memories each morning; He sustains and restores the same creature. The "you" that wakes up is the "you" that went to sleep because God upholds your existence.

Similarly, in death and resurrection according to scripture, it's not about a copy. Paul describes the resurrection body as being sown a natural body and raised a spiritual body (1 Corinthians 15:44). There's a transformation, but it's a transformation of the same individual. God, who knows the number of hairs on your head (Matthew 10:30) and whose understanding is infinite (Psalm 147:5), is more than capable of resurrecting the identical you, not merely a facsimile. The "you" that is resurrected is the same "you" that died, now made alive and, for believers, glorified by God's power. The continuity of your identity is not dependent on an unbroken stream of consciousness (which sleep already interrupts) or an unchangeable physical form, but on God's sovereign power and His faithful remembrance and re-creation/restoration of you as an individual.

The fear behind the "suicide box" analogy arises from a perspective where identity is solely self-generated or dependent on purely material or conscious continuity. But from a biblical perspective, our identity is ultimately grounded in our Creator, who formed us, knows us, and has the power to restore us. "You" are the specific individual God created and sustains, the one whose life is recorded in His "book" (Psalm 139:16), and whose future resurrection and ultimate reconciliation (for all, in their order) is part of His unchanging plan. The Star Trek transporter might be a fun sci-fi concept, but it operates outside the biblical framework of God's direct, sustaining relationship with each unique individual He has made. "You" are more than just your current state of consciousness or your present collection of atoms; you are a being whose identity is secure in the hands of your Maker.

Thursday, June 12, 2025

Criticism of Catholicism's "Sacred Tradition"

You know, I've been spending some time going through the Catechism of the Catholic Church lately, and it's definitely getting me thinking about some foundational stuff. One thing that really stands out, and honestly, gives me pause, is how it talks about "Sacred Tradition."

The Catechism, right from the get-go, in paragraphs like 59 through 61 and then again around 80 to 82, makes it pretty clear that it sees Sacred Tradition and Sacred Scripture as two streams flowing from the same divine wellspring, both equally to be "accepted and honoured with equal sentiments of devotion and reverence." They're presented as a "single sacred deposit of the Word of God."

Now, I get the historical argument. The apostles preached, they taught, and not everything they said or did was immediately written down in the books that became our New Testament. There was an oral phase, a living transmission of faith in the early communities. No one's really disputing that. But the leap from "apostles taught things" to "there's this ongoing, equally authoritative stream of divine revelation called Sacred Tradition that the Church (specifically the Magisterium) is the guardian and sole authentic interpreter of", that's a big leap, and one I find hard to square with what Scripture itself seems to indicate about its own sufficiency and finality.

My main hang-up is this: if we say that our certainty about "all revealed truths" doesn't come from the Holy Scriptures alone, as paragraph 61 explicitly states, where does that leave us? It seems to put the Church, or at least its teaching office, in a position of defining what constitutes this "Sacred Tradition" and then using that Tradition to interpret Scripture. It feels a bit like the Church is marking its own homework. If Tradition tells us how to read Scripture, and the Church tells us what Tradition is, then the Church's current understanding becomes the ultimate authority, practically speaking, even if it says it's the "servant" of the Word.

Paul told Timothy that "All scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness: That the man of God may be perfect, throughly furnished unto all good works" (2 Timothy 3:16-17 KJV). That sounds pretty comprehensive. If Scripture itself is "God-breathed" and can thoroughly furnish us for all good works and make the man of God perfect (or complete), what essential divine truth is left outside of it that we need from an unwritten Tradition for our faith and practice?

And then there's the practical side. Scripture is a fixed text. We can study it, analyze its languages, its historical context. It's there for all to examine. "Sacred Tradition," on the other hand, especially when it's presented as an unwritten body of truths passed down, feels more fluid, more susceptible to human development and, dare I say, accretion (addition) over centuries. How do we objectively test a "Tradition" if its content and interpretation are ultimately defined by an institution in the present day? Things like the Marian dogmas (Immaculate Conception, Assumption) are often cited as examples of truths known through Tradition that aren't explicitly spelled out in Scripture. But that's the point, if they're not clearly in Scripture, on what basis are they considered divinely revealed and binding for all believers?

It seems to me that the New Testament itself points to the writings of the apostles as the enduring record of their authoritative teaching. Paul exhorted the Thessalonians to "hold the traditions which ye have been taught, whether by word, or our epistle" (2 Thessalonians 2:15 KJV). Yes, there was oral teaching initially, but the "faith which was once delivered unto the saints" (Jude 3 KJV) was, I believe, fully and finally captured in what became the inspired New Testament. That written Word is the "sacred deposit" we're called to guard and transmit.

So, as I'm reading through the Catechism, this heavy reliance on Sacred Tradition as an equal partner to Scripture, and the claim that the Magisterium alone can authentically interpret both, is a significant point of concern. It feels like it shifts the ultimate foundation of our faith from the clear, written Word of God, accessible to all believers through the illumination of the Holy Spirit, to the pronouncements of a specific ecclesiastical (church-related) institution. And historically, that just hasn't always proven to be a reliable safeguard for pure, apostolic truth, especially when those truths concern the unique message of grace for the Body of Christ, which often got obscured by later traditions. It's definitely something that makes you want to go back and cleave even more tightly to what the Scriptures actually say, and how they say it.

Friday, May 9, 2025

Did Jesus Say John Would NEVER Die?

The idea that certain individuals from biblical or extra-biblical narratives, like the apostle John, the Three Nephites from the Book of Mormon, the prophet Enoch, or the inhabitants of the City of Zion,are still alive on earth today, having somehow bypassed physical death and continuing to live for centuries or millennia, is a fascinating concept found in some religious traditions, notably within Mormonism (The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints) for figures like John and the Three Nephites. However, when we examine this idea through the lens of the biblical understanding of death, resurrection, and God's overarching plan, it runs into some significant scriptural and theological difficulties.

First and foremost, the consistent testimony of Scripture is that death is the common end for all humanity descended from Adam. "For as in Adam all die..." Paul states clearly in 1 Corinthians 15:22. Hebrews 9:27 declares, "...it is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgment." While this latter verse contextually refers more specifically to the Levitical high priests in its original argument, the general principle of mortality for mankind is a pervasive biblical theme. The very narrative of salvation through Christ is predicated on overcoming this universal reality of death (1 Corinthians 15:26, 54-57; 2 Timothy 1:10). To suggest that certain individuals, apart from the unique case of Christ's resurrection as the "firstfruits," have simply continued to live on earth without dying for hundreds or thousands of years creates an exception to this fundamental rule that requires extraordinary scriptural support, which is generally lacking.

Let's consider Enoch. Genesis 5:24 (KJV) says, "And Enoch walked with God: and he was not; for God took him." This is often interpreted, especially by those who believe in the ongoing earthly life of certain figures, as meaning God took Enoch to heaven without him experiencing death. However, the phrasing "he was not" is a common Hebrew idiom simply meaning he died or disappeared from human sight (see Jeremiah 31:15, "Rachel weeping for her children refused to be comforted for her children, because they were not"). The "God took him" could mean God took his life, or perhaps removed him from a difficult situation before his natural death, as some traditions suggest. Crucially, the writer of Hebrews, when listing the heroes of faith, includes Enoch: "By faith Enoch was translated that he should not see death; and was not found, because God had translated him: for before his translation he had this testimony, that he pleased God" (Hebrews 11:5). This "translated that he should not see death" is the key phrase. However, just a few verses later, the same chapter concludes about all these figures of faith, including Enoch by explicit prior mention: "These all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off..." (Hebrews 11:13). If Enoch "died in faith" along with all the others, then his "translation" cannot mean he bypassed death entirely to live on immortally. More likely, "translated that he should not see death" refers to the manner or timing of his removal by God, perhaps being spared a violent or premature death, or having a peaceful end, but not to an unending earthly existence. He still, according to Hebrews, "died in faith."

What about the apostle John? The basis for the idea of his continued life often comes from a misunderstanding of Jesus' words in John 21:20-23. Peter asks about John's fate, and Jesus replies, "If I will that he tarry till I come, what is that to thee? follow thou me." John then immediately clarifies, "Then went this saying abroad among the brethren, that that disciple should not die: yet Jesus said not unto him, He shall not die; but, If I will that he tarry till I come, what is that to thee?" John himself corrects the rumor. Jesus' statement was hypothetical ("If I will..."), not a promise of John's undying earthly presence. Church tradition, though varied, predominantly holds that John did eventually die, albeit perhaps of old age in Ephesus. There's no solid scriptural or early historical basis for him continuing to live on earth.

There's also the concept of the Three Nephites remaining on earth which is specific to the Book of Mormon. According to that text (3 Nephi 28), these three disciples of Jesus in the Americas desired to tarry until Jesus' second coming to bring souls to Him, and this request was granted, transforming them so they would "never taste of death" and "never endure the pains of death." From a purely biblical standpoint, as understood through the texts we've analyzed, this presents several conflicts. Firstly, the promise of not tasting death until the Second Coming, while unique, still places their immortality within a specific dispensational context that will eventually conclude. More significantly, the power over death and the granting of such a transformed state is exclusively presented in the Bible as the result of Christ's resurrection and the believer's future participation in that resurrection (1 Corinthians 15). The idea of such a state being granted on request during an earthly ministry, separate from the "firstfruits" of Christ and the later general resurrection of believers, doesn't align with the New Testament's carefully laid out order of resurrection and glorification. Furthermore, Paul stresses that immortality ("this mortal must put on immortality") is something that happens at a specific future point, the "last trump" (1 Corinthians 15:52-54), for the Body of Christ, not something granted individually and indefinitely on earth centuries prior.

Let's not forget the City of Zion being taken to heaven without its inhabitants tasting death which is another concept rooted more in specific interpretations of extra-biblical texts (like sections of the Pearl of Great Price for Latter-day Saints, describing Enoch's city) than in the clear narrative of canonical Scripture. While the Bible speaks of a heavenly Jerusalem (Galatians 4:26; Hebrews 12:22; Revelation 21:2), this is presented as the future dwelling of the redeemed and the glorified Christ, a city that comes down from God out of heaven to the new earth, not a city of mortals translated to heaven centuries ago who continue to live there without experiencing the resurrection. The destiny for believers according to Paul is to be "caught up together... to meet the Lord in the air" after the resurrection of the dead in Christ and the transformation of the living (1 Thessalonians 4:16-17), at the time of Christ's coming for His Body. This is a specific eschatological event involving resurrection and glorification, not a quiet translation of an entire city full of mortals.

Beyond these specific figures, the broader theological framework developed in the provided texts presents challenges to the idea of any human achieving ongoing, undying physical existence on earth since the fall of Adam. Romans 5:12 states, "by one man sin entered into the world, and death by sin; and so death passed upon all men." This universal inheritance of mortality (leading to physical death) is a foundational aspect of Paul's theology. Exceptions to this would require extremely clear divine pronouncements.

1 Corinthians 15:20, 23 calls Christ "the firstfruits of them that slept" and states that "every man [will be made alive] in his own order: Christ the firstfruits; afterward they that are Christ's at his coming." If others achieved a state of never-dying physicality on earth centuries before Christ's own resurrection, or continue to live without death long after, it complicates Christ's unique role as the first to conquer death definitively and bring incorruptible life. His resurrection is the pattern and guarantee for ours.

The Bible speaks of resurrection and transformation to glorified, immortal bodies as the means by which death is overcome (1 Corinthians 15:50-54; Philippians 3:21). It doesn't present a mechanism by which un-glorified, mortal (or even "semi-mortal," as discussed in 'Forbidden Bible Truth') physical bodies could be sustained indefinitely on earth without decay or death for millennia, apart from constant, direct divine intervention for which there's no explicit scriptural promise for individuals scattered across history. Access to something like the tree of life is presented as a feature of future eschatological realities (Revelation 22:2), not a current provision for specific individuals.

Therefore, while the idea of certain revered figures continuing a hidden ministry on earth has a certain romantic appeal, the overwhelming testimony of Scripture points to death as the current human norm, with the hope of overcoming it resting solely on the future resurrection and transformation promised through Jesus Christ. The biblical narrative emphasizes God's plan to defeat death universally at a future point, through the resurrection, rather than granting individual exemptions to physical mortality for extended earthly sojourns. Claims of such ongoing physical life for specific individuals would need to contend with these foundational scriptural teachings about death and resurrection.

Tuesday, May 6, 2025

If God Controls Everything, Is He Angry at Himself? Exploring Determinism

If God truly controls everything, as passages like Ephesians 1:11 ("worketh all things after the counsel of his own will") seem to suggest, what does that entail philosophically? It implies a reality where contingency, randomness, and genuine autonomy (in the libertarian sense) are ultimately illusions from our limited perspective. Every event, from the quantum fluctuation to the conscious choice of an individual, would trace its causal chain back to the First Cause, God Himself. Nothing happens that is not, in some sense, an expression or outworking of His singular, overarching will or plan.

This raises immediate questions about the nature of reality. Does this mean the universe is merely a complex mechanism unfolding according to a divine script? Does it mean that possibilities we perceive, the feeling that we could have chosen differently, are not actual possibilities in the grand scheme? Theological determinism, philosophically considered, points towards yes. If God’s will determines all things, then only the sequence He ordains is truly possible. The future isn't an open set of branching paths, but a single path determined from the beginning by the ultimate reality, God.

What does this mean for concepts like cause and effect within the universe? It doesn't eliminate them; rather, it grounds them. Natural laws, human desires, and psychological motivations all become secondary causes, the means through which God's primary causation unfolds. My "desire for coffee" leading to my "choice to drink it" is a real causal link from my perspective, but that desire itself, and the circumstances allowing the choice, are ultimately grounded in God's prior determination. He works through the causal fabric of reality, not necessarily by constantly suspending it, but by having established it in such a way that it perfectly executes His plan.

Now, what about being truly all-powerful, omnipotent? Philosophically, omnipotence isn't usually taken to mean the ability to do the logically impossible (like creating a square circle or making 2+2=5). Such things aren't tasks that power can achieve; they are contradictions in terms, essentially meaningless statements. Rather, omnipotence generally means the ability to do anything that is logically possible and consistent with God's own nature.

If God is omnipotent in this sense, could He create a universe with creatures possessing libertarian free will, creatures whose choices are genuinely undetermined by Him or any prior cause, yet are still somehow attributable to the creature? No, this concept itself seems logically incoherent. 

Let me elaborate, the core idea of LFW (Libertarian Free Will) is that, at the moment of choice, given the exact same history, circumstances, character, and motivations, the agent could genuinely choose A or B. But if everything leading up to the choice is identical in both scenarios (the one where they choose A and the hypothetical one where they choose B), what accounts for the difference? If nothing about the agent or the world determines the choice, then the difference between choosing A and choosing B seems to boil down to pure chance, or luck. If your choice is ultimately a matter of luck, how can you be held morally responsible for it? It wasn't really your reasoned, character-driven decision in a meaningful sense; it was more like a random quantum event firing in your brain. This makes the choice unintelligible as a product of rational agency. LFW tries to escape determinism but seems to fall into randomness, neither of which provides a solid ground for moral responsibility as usually understood.

For a choice to be truly yours and something you're responsible for, you need to have control over it. Determinism says your choices are controlled by prior causes. LFW says they aren't controlled by prior causes. But if they aren't controlled by prior causes (including your own settled character and reasons), what does control them? LFW proponents often appeal to a special kind of "agent causation," where the agent as a substance simply originates a choice without being caused to do so. But this just pushes the problem back. Why did the agent originate this choice rather than that one at that moment? If there's a reason based on the agent's character or desires, we're back towards determinism. If there's no reason, it looks like randomness again. The idea of a "controlled, yet undetermined" choice is notoriously difficult to make sense of.

If God is omniscient, He knows exactly how initial conditions and rules will interact with the creatures He creates. If He sets up conditions knowing they will inevitably lead creature X to make choice Y, hasn't He effectively predetermined choice Y, even if creature X feels free while making it? It's like setting up a complex series of dominoes, you only push the first one, but you've determined the fall of the last one. If God knows the outcome of the "free" choices made within the conditions He set, He has, in effect, chosen that outcome by choosing those conditions. It doesn't really escape determinism if God has exhaustive foreknowledge.

What about Molinism? It suggests God has "middle knowledge", He knows what any possible free creature would freely choose in any possible circumstance He could place them in. So, God doesn't directly cause the choice, but He achieves His purposes by creating this specific world and placing these specific creatures in these specific circumstances, knowing exactly how they would freely choose, thereby ensuring His overall plan comes to pass through their libertarianly free choices. This tries to preserve both LFW and divine sovereignty/foreknowledge. However, Molinism faces its own challenges. Where does this "middle knowledge" come from? How can there be definite truths about what a creature would freely do in a situation if that choice is genuinely undetermined until it's made? Many philosophers argue that these "counterfactuals of creaturely freedom" cannot be known, even by God, if the choices are truly libertarian, because there's no fact of the matter to know until the choice occurs. Furthermore, it still seems like God is ultimately determining outcomes by selecting the specific world/circumstance combo that He knows will produce the choices He wants. The freedom feels somewhat illusory if God is choosing the scenario precisely because He knows it guarantees a specific "free" choice.

Does Open Theism work? It tries to solve the conflict by limiting God's foreknowledge. It claims God knows all that can be known, but since the future choices of libertarianly free creatures are genuinely open and undetermined, they are unknowable even to God. God knows all possibilities but not the definite future outcome of free choices. This preserves LFW but does so at the cost of God having divine omniscience and sovereignty. This view struggles with biblical passages that seem to clearly indicate God does have exhaustive foreknowledge of future human actions and choices (like Peter's denial, or the actions surrounding the crucifixion). 

God knows thoughts and hearts (Psalm 139:1-4; 1 John 3:20), knowing all things that happen (Hebrews 4:13), knowing the end from the beginning (Isaiah 46:9-10), and possessing perfect understanding (Psalm 147:5; Isaiah 40:28). His foreknowledge of specific future events and choices is also presented as evidence (1 Samuel 23:10-12; Acts 2:23; Romans 8:29).

Scripture also declares God can do all things and His purpose cannot be thwarted (Job 42:2; Isaiah 46:10). He is described as the Almighty (Revelation 1:8; 4:8 etc.), the Creator of all things by His word or power (Genesis 1; Psalm 33:6-9; Hebrews 1:2-3, though interpretation varies on the Son's role), and the one for whom nothing is too hard (Jeremiah 32:17, 27; Luke 1:37). His ability to intervene miraculously and control natural forces and human events throughout the biblical narrative is presented as a demonstration of His supreme power.

Let's get back on track, God could not create a universe with creatures possessing libertarian free will since LFW itself is logically incoherent as I explained. An uncaused choice appears indistinguishable from a random event, severing the link between the agent and moral responsibility. If LFW is logically impossible, then God's inability to create it isn't a limitation on His omnipotence, any more than His inability to make a square circle is. He can do anything logically possible.

Therefore, a universe where God controls everything isn't necessarily a universe where God's power is limited because He "couldn't" grant LFW. Instead, it might be the only kind of universe an omnipotent, omniscient, and purposeful God could create if He desired a specific, guaranteed outcome (like universal reconciliation) consistent with His nature. If genuine LFW existed, God could not guarantee the final outcome; His plan could potentially be thwarted by creaturely choices. A God whose plan can be thwarted doesn't seem truly omnipotent or sovereign in the way Scripture often portrays Him.

So, philosophically, God controlling everything means He is the ultimate source and determiner of all reality and events. True omnipotence means He has the power to bring about any logically possible state of affairs consistent with His nature, which includes orchestrating all secondary causes (like human choices made according to desire) to perfectly align with His ultimate purpose, guaranteeing its fulfillment without fail. It suggests a reality that is purposeful, coherent, and entirely grounded in the will of its Creator, even if the intricate workings of that will often appear complex or paradoxical from our limited viewpoint.

I can see why some say the relationship between God's absolute control over everything and His clear commands about right and wrong can seem confusing, even contradictory. 

If God truly ordains all events, including sinful ones, while also commanding righteousness and expressing anger at sin, then it seems like he's working against Himself, perhaps like a "schizophrenic playing chess with himself," as one rather colorful objection put it. It seemingly makes God illogical, His own worst enemy, perhaps even weak if He "needs" to control every detail, rather than being able to achieve His ends through the genuinely free choices of His creatures. It's often argued that Scripture itself supports this "libertarian free will," pointing to verses where God offers choices or calls people to repent, suggesting that human decisions aren't predetermined. There's also the feeling that if God is behind everything, He becomes responsible for evil, undermining human moral responsibility. And sometimes, people feel that distinguishing between different aspects of God's will is just reading philosophical ideas into the text that aren't explicitly named there.

These are serious points, and they deserve careful consideration based on what the scriptures actually reveal. The goal isn't to defend a pre-packaged theological system for its own sake, but to find a way to understand all of what the Bible says about God, His power, His plans, His commands, His character, in a coherent way, even when different passages seem to pull in opposite directions. The distinction often made between God's "preceptive will" and His "providential will" isn't an attempt to make God contradictory, but rather an effort to faithfully account for everything Scripture says about how God relates to the world and human actions. Let's explore this distinction, see where it comes from in the Bible, and address the objections raised.

First, what do we mean by these two "wills"? It's important to state upfront that the terms "preceptive will" and "providential will" (or similar terms like "will of command" vs. "will of decree," or "moral will" vs. "sovereign will") are theological labels created later to describe concepts clearly present in Scripture. They aren't phrases the biblical writers used themselves, but the distinction they represent is found throughout the Bible. So, when someone objects that we're reading things into the text because these specific terms aren't there, they're missing the point. We use the terms to describe patterns of divine action and revelation that are undeniably present in the text itself.

God's preceptive will refers to His revealed commands, His moral law, what He declares to be right and good, what pleases Him, and what He requires of His creatures. This is the standard of righteousness He sets forth. It's found in commandments like the Ten Commandments, the summaries like "Love the Lord your God" and "Love your neighbor as yourself" (Matthew 22:37-40), and specific instructions given throughout Scripture. This will reflects God's holy character and His desires for how His creation ought to function. We see this will spoken of in passages like Matthew 7:21, where Jesus says, "Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven; but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in heaven." Similarly, Romans 12:2 encourages believers to discern "what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God." First Thessalonians 4:3 states plainly, "For this is the will of God, even your sanctification, that ye should abstain from fornication [πορνείας/porneias - illicit sexual intercourse, often related to idolatry]." This aspect of God's will is clearly something humans can and do disobey. Sin, by definition, is the transgression of God's preceptive will (1 John 3:4).

God's providential will (also called His sovereign will or will of decree) refers to His hidden plan and ultimate control over everything that happens in the universe. It's His determination of what will come to pass, according to His eternal purpose. This will encompasses all events, both good and evil from a human moral perspective, ensuring they ultimately serve His overarching plan. Scripture speaks powerfully of this aspect of God's will: "I know that thou canst do every thing, and that no thought [מְזִמָּֽה׃/mezimáh - plan, purpose, device] can be withholden from thee" (Job 42:2). Isaiah records God declaring, "My counsel shall stand, and I will do all my pleasure" (Isaiah 46:10). Paul writes that God "worketh all things after the counsel of his own will" (Ephesians 1:11). Daniel affirms that God "doeth according to his will in the army of heaven, and among the inhabitants of the earth: and none can stay his hand, or say unto him, What doest thou?" (Daniel 4:35). This providential will cannot be thwarted or resisted; what God decrees in this sense will happen.

The reason theologians make this distinction is because the Bible itself presents God acting and speaking in these two different ways. He gives commands that are broken, yet He also declares that His ultimate purpose cannot be stopped. He expresses moral disapproval of certain actions, yet Scripture also reveals He sometimes ordains or incorporates those very actions into His sovereign plan. Without distinguishing these two ways God's "will" operates, Scripture would appear hopelessly contradictory.

Now, let's look at some of the scriptural examples where these two aspects of God's will seem to be simultaneously operative, often in apparent tension. These are the passages that demonstrate why the distinction is necessary for a coherent understanding.

Consider the story of Joseph and his brothers. The brothers selling Joseph into slavery was undeniably sinful, driven by jealousy and hatred (Genesis 37:4, 11), violating God's preceptive will regarding love for one's brother and prohibitions against kidnapping and selling people (Exodus 21:16 implies this, though the specific command came later). Yet, Joseph later reveals the providential perspective: "Now therefore be not grieved, nor angry with yourselves, that ye sold me hither: for God did send me before you to preserve life... So now it was not you that sent me hither, but God..." (Genesis 45:5, 8). And again, "But as for you, ye thought evil against me; but God meant it unto good, to bring to pass, as it is this day, to save much people alive" (Genesis 50:20). Here, the brothers' sinful action (violating the preceptive will) was simultaneously the means God used (His providential will) to accomplish a greater good, saving the family and region from famine. God didn't command or approve of their sin, but He ordained the outcome through their sinful choices.

Or take the hardening of Pharaoh's heart. God repeatedly commands Pharaoh, "Let my people go" (Exodus 5:1; 7:16; 8:1, 20; 9:1, 13; 10:3), this is His preceptive will. Yet, Scripture also repeatedly states that God Himself hardened Pharaoh's heart precisely so that Pharaoh would not obey the command, allowing God to display His power through the plagues (Exodus 4:21; 7:3; 9:12; 10:1, 20, 27; 11:10; 14:4, 8, 17). Paul explicitly references this in Romans 9:17-18 as an example of God's sovereignty: "For the scripture saith unto Pharaoh, Even for this same purpose have I raised thee up, that I might shew my power in thee, and that my name might be declared throughout all the earth. Therefore hath he mercy on whom he will have mercy, and whom he will he hardeneth." God commanded obedience preceptively, but providentially ordained disobedience for His own glory and purpose.

It’s a heavy thing to wrestle with, this idea of God’s total control clashing with His clear commands and our sense of responsibility. I’ve heard the frustration, the feeling that it makes God seem contradictory, maybe even like He’s playing games, setting rules He Himself ensures will be broken. Some have said it sounds like God is His own worst enemy, tripping Himself up, ordaining an action with one hand while condemning it with the other. It feels illogical. There's this strong pull to say, "No, God can't be behind the evil, the sin. We have free will, we make our own choices, and God reacts to them. He's sovereign like a government is sovereign, setting laws, judging, guiding, but not pulling every single string." Objectors like to point to verses where God clearly didn't command or desire horrific sins, like child sacrifice in Jeremiah 19, asking how a God who didn't even think of such a thing could possibly have ordained it. Perhaps the calls to "choose life" in Deuteronomy 30 or Joshua 24 could be mentioned, or pleas for repentance in Isaiah 1 or Ezekiel 18, and the same objector would see undeniable proof of human freedom to genuinely go against a predetermined path. Isn't Scripture, they ask, heavily tied to this idea of libertarian free will, where we truly have the power to make moral decisions independent of divine micromanagement? To suggest otherwise, some feel, is to present a weak God who needs to puppet-master everything, rather than a strong God who can achieve His ends while respecting genuine human freedom.

These are powerful objections, rooted in a desire to protect God's goodness, human dignity, and what feels like common sense. But I think they often arise from not fully grappling with the entirety of what Scripture reveals about God's sovereignty and His purposes, and perhaps from a misunderstanding of what the distinction between God's preceptive and providential wills is actually trying to capture. It's not an artificial construct forced onto the text, but an attempt to make sense of two distinct streams of truth that run throughout the Bible. Let's dive into Romans 9 and 11, as these chapters are ground zero for this discussion, forcing us to confront these tensions head-on.

Paul begins Romans 9 with intense sorrow for his kinsmen, Israel. He lists their incredible privileges, the adoption, the glory, the covenants, the Law, the worship, the promises, the patriarchs, and even the Messiah Himself coming from them according to the flesh (Romans 9:1-5). This immediately sets up the problem: if Israel has all these advantages and promises, why have so many of them rejected their own Messiah? Has God's word failed?

Paul's answer is a resounding "Not as though the word of God hath taken none effect" (Romans 9:6). He immediately introduces the principle of divine election within Israel itself. Just being a physical descendant of Abraham didn't guarantee inclusion in the promise; God chose Isaac over Ishmael (Romans 9:7-9). This wasn't based on anything Ishmael or Isaac did, but on God's sovereign choice.

He then drives the point home with the example of Jacob and Esau. Before they were even born, before they had done any good or evil, God declared His purpose based purely on His choice: "the elder shall serve the younger," leading to the statement, "Jacob have I loved, but Esau have I hated" (Romans 9:10-13). Paul explicitly states the reason for this pre-birth choice: "that the purpose of God according to election might stand, not of works, but of him that calleth" (Romans 9:11). This directly challenges any notion that God chooses based on foreseen faith, foreseen works, or some inherent quality in the person. It's grounded entirely in God's sovereign will and purpose. (The word "hated" here likely doesn't mean emotional animosity but rather "loved less" or "rejected" in terms of covenantal privilege and purpose, as seen in other biblical contexts like Luke 14:26, but the principle of divine choice remains stark).

Paul knows exactly what objection this raises: "What shall we say then? Is there unrighteousness with God?" (Romans 9:14). Is God unfair for choosing Jacob over Esau before they'd done anything? Paul's response is immediate and forceful: "God forbid" (May it never be!). He doesn't try to soften God's sovereignty or appeal to some hidden human merit. Instead, he appeals to God's own words defining His freedom: "For he saith to Moses, I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I will have compassion" (Romans 9:15, quoting Exodus 33:19). God's mercy isn't earned or obligated; it's freely given according to His sovereign pleasure. Paul concludes, "So then it is not of him that willeth, nor of him that runneth, but of God that sheweth mercy" (Romans 9:16). Human desire and effort are explicitly excluded as the basis for receiving God's mercy; it rests solely on God's choice.

He then brings up Pharaoh as the counterpoint: "For the scripture saith unto Pharaoh, Even for this same purpose have I raised thee up, that I might shew my power in thee, and that my name might be declared throughout all the earth" (Romans 9:17, quoting Exodus 9:16). Just as God sovereignly chooses whom to show mercy, He sovereignly chooses whom to harden for the purpose of demonstrating His power and glory. Paul's conclusion is inescapable: "Therefore hath he mercy on whom he will have mercy, and whom he will he hardeneth" (Romans 9:18). This hardening isn't just God passively allowing Pharaoh to be stubborn; Exodus repeatedly says God hardened Pharaoh's heart. It's an active, divine work serving God's purpose.

This, Paul knows, leads to the ultimate human objection against divine sovereignty: "Thou wilt say then unto me, Why doth he yet find fault? For who hath resisted his will?" (Romans 9:19). If God hardens whom He wills, and His will cannot be resisted, how can He possibly hold people responsible for the very actions His hardening leads them to? This is the crux of the matter. Notice Paul's response. He does not say, "Ah, but you misunderstand, humans still have libertarian free will to overcome the hardening," or "God only hardens those He foresees would reject Him anyway." No, he doubles down on God's absolute sovereignty using the analogy of the potter and the clay: "Nay but, O man, who art thou that repliest against God? Shall the thing formed say to him that formed it, Why hast thou made me thus? Hath not the potter power over the clay, of the same lump to make one vessel unto honour, and another unto dishonour?" (Romans 9:20-21). Paul asserts the Creator's absolute right over His creation. Just as a potter can decide what kind of vessel to make from a lump of clay, God has the sovereign right to form individuals for different purposes, some as "vessels of wrath fitted to destruction" and others as "vessels of mercy, which he had afore prepared unto glory" (Romans 9:22-23).

Paul explains the purpose behind this differentiation: God endures the vessels of wrath "with much longsuffering" in order "to shew his wrath, and to make his power known" and also "that he might make known the riches of his glory on the vessels of mercy" (Romans 9:22-23). The existence and judgment of the vessels of wrath serve to highlight God's power and justice, and simultaneously magnify the glory of His mercy shown to the vessels prepared for glory. This strongly indicates that God's plan includes ordaining both outcomes for His ultimate self-glorification and the revelation of His multifaceted character. He then connects this to the calling of both Jews and Gentiles as vessels of mercy (Romans 9:24-29), showing this was always part of God's plan foretold by the prophets.

He concludes the chapter by explaining Israel's failure (as a whole) not as a failure of God's promise, but as their own failure to pursue righteousness by faith, instead trying to attain it by works of the Law. They stumbled over the "stumblingstone," Christ, whom God Himself had laid in Zion (Romans 9:30-33). Even their stumbling was incorporated into God's sovereign design.

Romans 9 lays an uncompromising foundation: God operates according to His sovereign purpose of election, showing mercy to whom He wills and hardening whom He wills, forming vessels for different destinies, all according to His own counsel and for His own glory, independent of human works or will. This seems to leave little room for libertarian free will as the deciding factor in salvation or condemnation.

But this raises the question Paul tackles in Romans 11: Has God then completely cast away His people Israel? Again, the answer is "God forbid" (Romans 11:1). Paul points to himself, an Israelite, as proof. He reiterates that God has always preserved a remnant according to the election of grace: "Even so then at this present time also there is a remnant according to the election of grace. And if by grace, then is it no more of works: otherwise grace is no more grace. But if it be of works, then is it no more grace: otherwise work is no more work" (Romans 11:5-6). Grace and works, as the basis for election, are mutually exclusive.

What about the rest? "Israel hath not obtained that which he seeketh for; but the election hath obtained it, and the rest were blinded (according as it is written, God hath given them the spirit of slumber, eyes that they should not see, and ears that they should not hear;) unto this day" (Romans 11:7-8). Paul explicitly attributes the hardening and spiritual blindness of the majority of Israel to God. He quotes Old Testament passages (Isaiah 29:10; Deuteronomy 29:4; Psalm 69:22-23) to show this divine action was prophesied.

But was this hardening for their permanent destruction? Paul asks, "I say then, Have they stumbled that they should fall? God forbid: but rather through their fall [παραπτώματι/paraptōmati - trespass, lapse, stumbling] salvation is come unto the Gentiles, for to provoke them to jealousy" (Romans 11:11). Here we see the providential genius of God. He uses Israel's divinely ordained stumbling and hardening as the very means to open the door for Gentile salvation during this present age. This wasn't Plan B; it was part of the intricate plan all along. Israel's temporary "fall" becomes the world's riches (Romans 11:12), and their temporary "casting away" becomes the world's reconciliation (Romans 11:15).

Paul uses the olive tree analogy (Romans 11:16-24) to illustrate this. The root is holy (the patriarchs and God's covenant promises). Some natural branches (unbelieving Israel) were broken off because of unbelief. Gentiles (wild olive branches) were grafted in contrary to nature, not because of their own merit, but by God's grace. They shouldn't become proud, because they only stand by faith, and God can just as easily break them off and graft the natural branches back in if they return from unbelief. This emphasizes God's power and faithfulness to His original covenant people.

Then comes the revelation of the "mystery" Paul didn't want his readers to be ignorant of: "that blindness [hardening] in part is happened to Israel, until the fulness of the Gentiles be come in. And so all Israel shall be saved: as it is written, There shall come out of Sion the Deliverer, and shall turn away ungodliness from Jacob: For this is my covenant unto them, when I shall take away their sins" (Romans 11:25-27). Israel's hardening is partial and temporary. Once God's purpose for the Gentiles in this age is complete, He will turn back to national Israel, save them entirely, and fulfill His covenant promises. God's gifts and calling are irrevocable (Romans 11:29).

Paul then brings it all together in a stunning conclusion that reveals the ultimate purpose behind this complex interplay of election, hardening, disobedience, and mercy: "For as ye [Gentiles] in times past have not believed God, yet have now obtained mercy through their [Israel's] unbelief: Even so have these [Israelites] also now not believed, that through your mercy they also may obtain mercy. For God hath concluded them all [everyone, both Jews and Gentiles] in unbelief [ disobedience], that he might have mercy upon all [the all, everyone]" (Romans 11:30-32).

This is the pinnacle. God's sovereign plan involved orchestrating events such that everyone, Jew and Gentile alike, would be demonstrably shut up under disobedience. Why? Not for ultimate condemnation, but as the necessary prelude to demonstrating His universal mercy. By showing that no one could achieve righteousness or salvation through their own efforts or lineage, He prepared the ground to show mercy to all based purely on His grace through Christ. The hardening, the stumbling, the disobedience, even these were sovereignly employed means toward the ultimate end of universal mercy.

This understanding resolves the apparent contradiction. God's preceptive will condemns disobedience. His providential will sovereignly "concludes all in disobedience." Why? So that His ultimate purpose, rooted in His character of love and mercy, can be achieved: "that he might have mercy upon all." He doesn't delight in the disobedience itself (preceptive), but He ordains the situation (providential) to magnify His grace and ensure salvation is entirely His work, ultimately encompassing everyone.

This isn't God being schizophrenic or His own enemy. It's God executing a multi-stage, complex plan across history, using even human sin and rebellion (which He justly condemns according to His law) as part of the process to bring about a result far greater than could have been achieved otherwise, the demonstration of His unfathomable mercy extended universally. Paul's reaction isn't confusion or accusation, but awe: "O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! how unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out! ... For of him, and through him, and to him, are all things: to whom be glory for ever. Amen" (Romans 11:33, 36).

So, does God micromanage? Scripture seems to say His control is indeed comprehensive, down to the level of hearts and individual actions, when necessary for His plan. Is this puppeteering? Not in the sense of eliminating internal consciousness or desire; people still act according to what they want, but God works sovereignly to shape those wants and circumstances to fit His purpose (Philippians 2:13). Does this eliminate responsibility? Not from the perspective of violating God's commands. Does it require libertarian free will? Romans 9-11 seems to argue powerfully against it, grounding everything in God's sovereign election and purpose, culminating in universal mercy. The apparent contradictions dissolve when we recognize the different ways Scripture speaks of God's will, His moral standard versus His all-encompassing plan.

The crucifixion of Christ is perhaps the most profound example. The murder of an innocent man, especially God's own Son, is the ultimate violation of God's preceptive will ("Thou shalt not kill," Exodus 20:13; "shed not innocent blood," Jeremiah 7:6). The human actors involved, Judas, the Jewish leaders, Pilate, the Roman soldiers, acted out of sinful motives like greed, envy, fear, and political expediency. Yet, Peter declares on the day of Pentecost that Jesus was "delivered by the determinate counsel [the defined purpose/will] and foreknowledge of God, ye have taken, and by wicked hands have crucified and slain" (Acts 2:23). Later, the believers pray, acknowledging, "For of a truth against thy holy child Jesus, whom thou hast anointed, both Herod, and Pontius Pilate, with the Gentiles, and the people of Israel, were gathered together, For to do whatsoever thy hand and thy counsel [your purpose/will] determined before to be done" (Acts 4:27-28). God's preceptive will condemned the act, but His providential will ordained it as the necessary means for the salvation He planned from eternity.

These examples (and others, like God moving David to sinfully number Israel in 2 Samuel 24:1, or God shutting up all in disobedience according to Romans 11:32) show that Scripture itself presents God operating with both a moral standard (preceptive will) and an overarching sovereign plan (providential will), and that these can involve the same event without making God internally conflicted or morally culpable for the sin He ordains within His plan.

This brings us to the objection that this view makes God illogical, schizophrenic, or like "Tyler Durden", supposedly unaware in His preceptive "mode" of what His providential "mode" is doing. This is a misunderstanding. God is presented in Scripture as a unified consciousness with perfect knowledge of all things, including His own complete plan. He is fully aware of His providential decree when He issues His preceptive commands or expresses His moral displeasure at sin.

The expression of anger or grief over sin (like in Genesis 6:6 or Exodus 32:10-14) isn't God being surprised or thwarted by events He didn't foresee or control. It's an anthropopathic expression (attributing human emotions to God to convey His character) of His genuine moral reaction to the evil of the act itself, viewed according to His holy nature and preceptive will. He hates the sin even while He ordains its occurrence within His plan for a greater good. Think of a loving parent who is deeply grieved by their child's dangerous behavior, even if they foresaw it and have a plan to ultimately bring good out of it through discipline and restoration. The grief at the behavior is real, even if the outcome is controlled. God isn't fighting Himself; His unified purpose incorporates His moral standards and His sovereign decrees. He doesn't "shoot himself in the foot and cry at the gun"; He ordains the entire sequence, including the "shot" (the sin) and His reaction to it (moral displeasure expressed preceptively, and ultimate redemption worked providentially), all towards His final goal. To suggest this complex orchestration makes God less logical than a fictional character embodying chaos seems, if we're mirroring the snark, a rather peculiar assessment of divine wisdom.

Now, regarding the verses cited to supposedly prove "non-decreed human choices," like Jeremiah 19:3-5 ("...to burn their sons and their daughters in the fire; Which I commanded them not, neither came it into my heart"), Hosea 8:4 ("They have set up kings, but not by me: they have made princes, and I knew it not..."), and Isaiah 30:1 ("Woe to the rebellious children, saith the LORD, that take counsel, but not of me; and that cover with a covering, but not of my spirit, that they may add sin to sin:"). These verses powerfully express God's preceptive disapproval. He did not command child sacrifice; it was abhorrent to Him. He did not approve of Israel setting up kings in rebellion against His desired order or making alliances ("covering") contrary to His Spirit's guidance. These actions violated His revealed will. However, none of these statements mean the events happened outside the scope of His providential allowance or decree. God can disapprove morally of an action He nevertheless incorporates into His sovereign plan. Hosea 8:4's "I knew it not" is likely irony or means "I did not approve/acknowledge it," not literal ignorance, given God's omniscience. Jeremiah 19:5's "neither came it into my heart" expresses moral revulsion, not lack of foreknowledge or control. These verses condemn the sin according to God's revealed standard; they don't limit His ultimate sovereignty over what actually transpires.

Let's look at some other verses.

  • Joshua 24:15: "choose you this day whom ye will serve..." This presents a clear choice from the human perspective. Joshua calls on Israel to align their will and desire with serving Yahweh. This demonstrates agency and the need for internal commitment.

  • Deuteronomy 30:19: "I have set before you life and death, blessing and cursing: therefore choose life..." Again, a genuine call to make the right choice, appealing to their desire for life and blessing.

  • Isaiah 1:18-20: "Come now, and let us reason together... If ye be willing and obedient, ye shall eat the good of the land: But if ye refuse and rebel, ye shall be devoured with the sword..." This presents clear consequences based on their response (willingness/obedience vs. refusal/rebellion).

  • Ezekiel 18:30-32: "Repent, and turn yourselves from all your transgressions... Cast away from you all your transgressions... and make you a new heart and a new spirit: for why will ye die, O house of Israel? For I have no pleasure in the death of him that dieth... wherefore turn yourselves, and live ye." A passionate plea for repentance based on God's desire for their life (His preceptive will).

I think you get the point. All these passages demonstrate that humans make real choices, have desires, respond to commands, and face consequences. They operate from the human perspective of agency and responsibility. However, none of them explicitly teach or require libertarian free will. They are perfectly compatible with a compatibilist view, where choices are real and flow from the person's desires and character, even if those desires and the resulting choice are ultimately determined within God's sovereign plan. God issues commands and calls for repentance (preceptive will), appealing to our agency, while simultaneously working providentially to ensure His ultimate purposes are fulfilled, which includes giving new hearts and spirits to some so they can choose life (Ezekiel 36:26-27; Deuteronomy 30:6). The offer is genuine from the human standpoint; the ability to respond positively comes ultimately from God's sovereign grace (John 6:44, 65). Scripture presents both sides, human responsibility to choose based on God's commands, and God's sovereign power determining the outcome, without resolving the apparent tension in philosophical terms. The "two wills" framework attempts to hold both scriptural truths together.

So, after wrestling with these deep questions about God's control, human choice, sin, and suffering, where does it leave us? It seems the picture painted by a careful reading of Scripture, especially through the lens provided by Paul, is often starkly different from many common assumptions held within Christianity. The journey forces us to confront apparent paradoxes and challenges deeply ingrained ideas about free will, responsibility, and even God's very nature.

We acknowledged the widespread belief in libertarian free will, the idea that our choices are fundamentally undetermined and originate solely from our own volition. It feels intuitive, and it seems necessary to make sense of moral responsibility and God's goodness. Yet, when examined closely, both philosophically and scripturally, this concept runs into serious trouble. Philosophically, an uncaused choice seems indistinguishable from a random event, undermining the very responsibility it seeks to uphold (the Luck Problem). Scientifically, our choices appear deeply rooted in our genetics and experiences (nature and nurture), suggesting a deterministic framework. And scripturally, the Bible presents a God whose sovereignty is breathtakingly comprehensive.

We saw passages asserting that God "worketh all things after the counsel of his own will" (Ephesians 1:11), that He "fashions individually their hearts; He establishes all their deeds" (Psalm 33:15), and holds the king's heart like a watercourse, turning it wherever He wishes (Proverbs 21:1). We encountered numerous examples where God explicitly hardened hearts (Pharaoh, Sihon, the Canaanites, even Israel itself according to Paul in Romans 11) or stirred spirits (Cyrus) to ensure His specific purposes were fulfilled, even when those purposes involved actions contrary to His revealed commands. This points strongly towards theological determinism, the view that God's providential will ultimately governs every event.

This immediately raises the tension: how can a good God ordain or permit sin and evil, actions He explicitly forbids in His commands (His preceptive will)? Does this make Him contradictory, His own enemy, or morally culpable? The distinction between God's preceptive will (His revealed commands reflecting His moral character and desire for righteousness) and His providential will (His sovereign plan encompassing all events, including sin, for His ultimate good purposes) becomes essential here. It's not a philosophical trick read into the text, but a necessary framework derived from the text to make sense of how Scripture presents God operating. God genuinely hates sin according to His nature and commands (preceptive), yet He sovereignly incorporates human sin into His overarching plan (providential) without Himself being tainted by it, because His ultimate motive is always good, culminating, as Paul reveals, in universal mercy and reconciliation (Romans 11:32; Colossians 1:20). He uses the darkness, which He Himself permits or ordains (Isaiah 45:7), to ultimately magnify His light and grace.

This understanding challenges the idea that God's sovereignty is like that of a limited human government, merely setting rules and reacting. The biblical portrayal suggests a far more intimate involvement, working through secondary causes, including human desires and choices (which He ultimately fashions or influences), to guarantee His plan unfolds exactly as intended. This comprehensive control isn't presented as weakness, but as the very definition of omnipotence and wisdom ensuring His good purpose cannot fail.

Therefore, the "free will" compatible with this biblical picture isn't the libertarian ability to choose contrary to all prior causes (which seems logically impossible anyway), but the compatibilist freedom to act according to one's own desires and character, even if those desires and the resulting choice are part of God's determined plan. We make real choices that flow from who we are, and we are responsible for aligning those choices with God's commands, but the ultimate trajectory of all things rests securely in God's sovereign hand.

Now, a word of caution is needed here. Grappling with these deep theological concepts requires immense humility. It's easy, when defending a particular viewpoint, whether it's libertarian free will or divine determinism, to slip into arrogance, dismissing opposing arguments with snark or assuming intellectual superiority. I've seen the tendency, perhaps even in myself at times during our discussion, to present interpretations with absolute certainty, sometimes caricaturing opposing views or questioning the intelligence or sincerity of those who hold them. Statements like calling a view "schizophrenic" or suggesting someone has a "weak interpretation of God" might feel like strong rhetorical points, but they often shut down genuine dialogue and reflect more pride than a humble search for truth.

The reality is, these are difficult concepts that faithful, intelligent people have wrestled with for centuries. Whether one emphasizes divine sovereignty or human responsibility, the temptation exists to build a system that feels logically airtight to us, sometimes at the expense of fully acknowledging the tensions present in Scripture itself. We must resist the arrogance of thinking we have perfectly captured the mind of God or that those who disagree are simply illogical, ignorant, or arguing in bad faith. God's ways are indeed higher than our ways (Isaiah 55:9), and His judgments unsearchable (Romans 11:33). While we strive for the most coherent understanding possible based on His revelation, we must do so recognizing our limitations, extending grace to those with different perspectives, and avoiding the kind of condescending certainty that ultimately dishonors the very God we seek to understand. True understanding often grows best in humility, not in the arrogance of assumed intellectual victory.