20 Questions for Calvinists

Braxton Hunter posted a video today where he, Leighton Flowers, Jonathan Pritchett, and Tim Stratton took turns asking questions of Calvinists. I was interested enough that I transcribed the whole thing so I could respond to it on my blog. I could've made a video, but I just prefer the written word to the spoken word.

As a disclaimer, I'm not a theologian, and all of these guys are smarter and probably more educated than I am. I responded to these questions because I'm interested in the topic and had something to say about the questions. I hope you find it edifying.

Question 1: Leighton Flowers

I understand as a former Calvinist the desire to give God all the glory for the gift of salvation, but why, Biblically and philosophically, do you believe that the gift has to be irresistibly given in order for the giver to be get full credit for giving the gift? Shouldn’t God get all the glory for the gifts he gives even to those who reject it?

This is an ill-conceived question. If somebody rejects the gift of salvation, then God obviously can’t have given them the gift of salvation. But I get his point.

Of course, if God gives the gift of salvation, then he gets full credit for giving that gift. But that isn’t the issue. The issue is whether God can receive full credit for accomplishing salvation if the accomplishment of salvation was a cooperative effort between God and the recipient where God had no say in whether the person would do their part or not.

If we are free, in the libertarian sense, to either accept or reject God’s offer of salvation, and God does not determine that we accept it, then the actual accomplishment of our salvation is a cooperative effort. God does his part in making the offer. We do our part in choosing to accepting it. This is a synergistic enterprise, so, by definition, it’s not entirely a work of God. God cannot take full responsibility for our being saved if our being saved depends on our freely choosing to accept the offer and God played no role in bringing it about that we would make the right choice.

Question 2: Braxton Hunter

Does God determine or decree (a) everything that happens in a person’s life, (b) only their response to the gospel, or (c) none of the above? And please explain your answer.

God determines and decrees everything that happens in a person’s life. I’m not sure what needs to be explained. Maybe Braxton is asking us to give a defense of this position. Or maybe he’s asking for the details of how God brings about his sovereign will for a person’s life. I’m not sure.

Question 3: Jonathan Pritchett

In John 6:39, Jesus says it is the will of the Father that he should lose none of them but raise them up on the last day. However, in John 17:12 Jesus says Judas was both given and lost. So why doesn’t Judas disprove the notion that merely being given by the Father to the Son [?] not lose disprove that Jesus never loses it?

In John 6:39, Jesus is talking about God giving people to Jesus for the purpose of salvation. In John 17:6-12, I get the impression Jesus is praying specifically for his apostles. If that’s correct, then Jesus isn’t talking about everybody God gave him for the purpose of salvation. Rather, he’s talking about the people God gave him for the purpose of apostleship. As verse 12 says, Judas was doomed to destruction so that scripture would be fulfilled. He was never given to Jesus for the purpose of salvation; rather, his destruction was determined before he was even born.

Question 4: Tim Stratton

Molinists like me are often accused of starting with philosophy and then imposing it upon scripture. It seems to me, however, that that shoe is on the other foot. That is to say, it seems to me that it’s Calvinists who are guilty of starting with a philosophical position and then they impose that upon scripture. So, for example, in my debate against James White I made a Biblical case for mere Molinism, which, by the way, was never addressed, but, that’s another topic. But what is the Biblical case for exhaustive divine determination, or what I call EDD or EDD? What’s the Biblical case for EDD, the idea that God determines all things about humanity from our physical actions to our mental states? I don’t see it in Scripture. Now let’s talk about what it means for something to be determined. An event is determined by definition if antecedent conditions are sufficient to necessitate said event. So determinism, or what I refer to as exhaustive divine determination means that God’s decree provides the antecedent conditions sufficient to necessitate all events, including all events regarding each and every human, including the entirety of their mental actions. So it seems to me that Calvinists often start with the philosophy of determinism and then impose that upon scripture. But I see no place in the Bible that implies that God determines all things including all of our thoughts and beliefs. So here’s my question. How in the world does one infer EDD from scripture? What is the Biblical case for exhaustive divine determination?

There have been whole books dedicated to this topic. One famous one is The Sovereignty of God by Arthur W. Pink. Another one is Not A Chance by R.C. Sproul. Norman Geisler made an argument for this position in the first chapter of Chosen But Free, though he contradicted himself throughout the rest of the book.

The argument, as I understand it, is inductive. It comes by way of noticing that God exercises sovereign control over both the major things, like the crucifixion of Jesus (Acts 4:27-28) and the Assyrians attacking Israel (Isaiah 10), and the seemingly small and insignificant things you might think are just the result of chance, like the roll of a dice (Proverbs 16:33). An inductive inference is made that if God controls both the major things and the extremely minor things, that he must control everything in between, too. John Piper and Justin Taylor went into some detail on how God exercises his sovereignty in various situations, including the acts of Satan, in their book, Suffering and the Sovereignty of God.

Another argument I’ve heard is that God would have to determine everything if he is to give specific detailed prophecies. Otherwise, the butterfly effect would mess everything up. If these prophecies consisted merely of predictions, that wouldn’t necessarily mean that God determines all the events leading up to the fulfillment of the prophecy (although some Calvinists disagree with me about that). But any prophecy in which God intends for the event to take place (i.e. it’s his will that it take place), does seem to suggest that God determines all the events leading up to the fulfillment of those prophecies. The fulfillment of those prophecies requires a meticulous degree of determining events because of all the miniscule things that would have to happen for those prophecies to be fulfilled.

Question 5: Leighton Flowers

If a man is born totally depraved in the sense that they’re dead, corpse-like dead, cannot respond positively to the gospel, then why would God blind them with using parabolic language, spirit of stupor, all the language of scripture that says as judgment God blinds people or removes the light from those, he doesn’t contend with men forever. Why blind somebody born already blind. Why put a blindfold on a corpse? Make sense of that for us as non-Calvinists as to why God would need to blind somebody who is innately blind from birth?

That’s a great question, and I don’t know the answer. I can only speculate. This question seems to assume that whatever blinding God does, he does it at some point after they are born. But maybe he does it throughout their lives, from the womb, and it’s this blinding that’s precisely why they are unable to embrace the gospel. It doesn’t have to be an either/or thing. The blindness God brings about may be part of what their depravity consists of.

Question 6: Braxton Hunter

1 Corinthians 10:13 comes up a lot in these discussions. It says, “No temptation has overtaken you except something common to mankind; and God is faithful, so He will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation will provide the way of escape also, so that you will be able to endure it.” Now this passage sounds like it’s indicating that in any situation where someone might sin there is a genuine possibility genuine potential that they will take the way of escape and not sin. How is this possible if God has decreed and determined all things?

There are different senses in which we are able to act. Braxton knows about this distinction because he brought it up in the 15th question. I may have the physical ability to pick up a box, but have no desire whatsoever to do so. We can’t act without some motive or inclination, so a lack of motive or inclination would amount to a psychological inability to act. I take 1 Corinthians 10:13 to mean that in any situation, there is a way out. There is a choice available that will avoid sin. Nobody is trapped into sinning. But that doesn’t mean you will have the will, motive, or inclination to do the right thing. It is possible for you to be determined to do the wrong thing by your own desires even if there is a path available that would avoid doing the wrong thing.

Question 7: Jonathan Pritchett

In Romans 9:20, why even think that Paul grants the premise of his interlocutor in verse 19 when nowhere else throughout the book of Romans does Paul ever grant the interlocutor’s premise except in Romans 11:19-20 when the interlocutor is a gentile. What makes you think that Paul grants the premise of Romans 9:19 from the interlocutor when his very response, “Who are you, oh man, to answer back to God?” indicates he doesn’t, exposing the folly of the interlocutor’s protest?

Objection! Assuming facts not in evidence. In no way does Paul’s answer deny the premise behind the interlocutor’s question.

There are two questions his interlocuter asks: (1) Then why does God still blame us, and (2) For who is able to resist his will? The first question assumes that God does still blame us. This is not a controversial assumption. All Biblically-literate Christians agree that God holds people accountable for their sins, so we have every reason to think Paul would grant the premise behind that first question.

The second question appears to be rhetorical. The implicit claim behind it is that nobody can resist God’s will. The reason I don’t think Paul denies this claim is because (1) this objection came up precisely because Paul was teaching the absolute sovereignty of God in election. In fact, he explicitly said it does not depend on human desire or effort (verse 16) and that God hardens who he wills (verse 18). (2) Rather than deny the premise, Paul digs in his heals. He defends God’s right to make some vessels for honorable use and some for dishonorable use and denies his interlocutor’s right to object to God exercising that right.

Question 8: Tim Stratton

No Christian or anyone else on the planet is infallible and possesses a perfect set of theological beliefs. I mean, my reformed colleagues should all agree that a super Pope who never gets theology wrong does not exist. With that in mind, if God determines all things, and given the fact that every Christ follower, pastor, theologian, and Calvinists affirm at least one false theological belief if not multitudes, then it follows that God determines each one of his followers, including all Calvinists, to affirm false theological beliefs. Now, if God determines all, each and every one of his followers, to get theological beliefs wrong, how does this not relegate God into a DOD, a DOD, a Deity of Deception? What’s the relevant difference between a demon who determines all Christians to affirm false theological beliefs and a deity who determines all Christians to affirm false theological beliefs?

In the fourth question, Tim chided Calvinists for imposing their philosophy on the Bible because he seemed to be unaware of the fact that divine determinism was arrived at through Biblical exegesis. But here, Tim reveals that the shoe was on his foot after all. Tim is making a philosophical argument against divine determinism on the basis that it makes God a deity of deception. Never mind whether the Bible actually teaches that God causes people to believe false things.

He does, though. It says so explicitly in 2 Thessalonians 2:11. And, as Leighton Flowers pointed out in question number five, God blinds people so they will not believe the truth (see, for example, John 12:39-40). This objection Tim brings up applies just as much to non-Calvinists as it does to Calvinists. If God causes people to believe things that aren’t true, how can we trust him? How do we know he’s not always doing that? This is a thorny issue, whether you’re a Calvinist or not, because no matter what answer you give, it might be that it’s a lie God is causing you to believe.

The issue Tim raises is a special case of the problem of evil. If God is perfectly good (including being honest), then why does he allow or cause evil (including allowing or causing his own people to believe false things)?

The procedure for answering a question like this, if you are a Biblically faithful Christian, is not to begin with your philosophy and impose it on the Bible. Rather, it’s to begin with what the Bible teaches, then to try to figure out how it makes sense philosophically. Tim apparently denies what the Bible teaches because of his philosophy. I would rather affirm what the Bible teaches before wrestling with the philosophical implications.

I have written a lot on the problem of evil in this blog (here's a list), so I’m not going to repeat it all here. I’ll just give a short response here. Basically, I believe God is perfectly good. Since God is perfectly good, he has a morally justifiable reason for everything he does. If God creates a world in which even his own people believe false things, then it follows that he has a morally justifiable reason for doing so. I don’t have to know what that reason is to be justified in believing there’s a reason. It follows deductively that there’s a reason from the premise that God is perfectly good. The goodness of God can be arrived at ontologically from the moral argument. If God is the standard of good and evil, and if, by definition, good is to be done and evil is to be shunned, it follows that God only prefers good and never prefers evil, which in turn, means God is wholly good.

So I may not know why God, in his sovereign plan, arranges things so that his own people believe false things, but I trust that he has a good reason for it.

As far as what the difference is between God doing it and a demon doing it, the major difference is that God is sovereign and a demon is not. We can see this in 1 Kings 22:21-23 in which God put a lying spirit in the mouth of some prophets. In this case, the spirit was the immediate cause of the deception, but God was the remote cause. The demon acted on God’s order. Demons are not autonomous beings.

Another difference is that God has a good purpose in everything he does, but demons have an evil purpose in everything they do.

Question 9: Braxton Hunter

From my perspective sovereignty has to do with one’s position of authority. We know what a sovereign is. It’s a king. It’s someone who has command over his realm, and so we are familiar with sovereignty with respect to kings in this world. The thing that’s different about God is his realm is the entire cosmos. We know what a sovereign is, what a king is. He can step in at any time. He can dole out rewards or punishments. He can do as he pleases. And these are all things the Bible says God is and God does. But never before have we thought of the term sovereignty in any other context with respect to any other ruler as being, uh, something that he engages in with deterministic control. Sovereignty seems to have to do with God’s position of authority. Both Calvinists and non-Calvinists from my perspective think that God has the highest position of authority. He is as sovereign as he can be. So here’s my question. Why do you think Calvinists often speak as though determinism is a part of God’s sovereignty such that if you’re not a Calvinist you must think that God is not quite as sovereign as the Calvinist does? It seems to me that we both think God is as sovereign as he can be. The question is simply does he from that position of sovereignty choose to give man libertarian freedom or choose determinism. What are your thoughts?

This appears to me to be a question about semantics. Braxton is making the case that in most contexts, “sovereignty” just refers to authority. Why, then, do Calvinists use “sovereignty” to refer to something else? Why do we use it to refer to God determining everything?

I don’t find this to be an important question. If Braxton doesn’t like the word, “sovereignty,” then just pick a different word. Who cares what we call it? As I’ve said elsewhere, I’m a pragmatist when it comes to vocabulary. It doesn’t matter what words we use as long as we understand each other, and we can understand each other as long as we’re careful to define our terms.

Calvinists mean something in particular when they talk about God’s sovereignty. Whether Braxton thinks we’re using the word correctly or not hardly seems to matter. He need only understand what we mean by the word, and I think he does.

I don’t know the historical or etymological reason for why Calvinists use the word, “Sovereignty,” the way they do, but I can speculate. My speculation is that determinism is an extension of what we already mean by sovereignty in Braxton’s sense. If I have some authority, then I am able to command somebody else, and that person will carry out my will. So my degree of sovereignty impacts my ability to bring about my will. Calvinists say God is absolutely sovereign because his will is exhaustive, and he brings it about without fail.

Question 10:Jonathan Pritchett

In Ephesians 1, even many Calvinist commentators have noted the corporate language of the plural pronouns used throughout the exordium. In verse 4 it says, “He chose us in him before the foundation of the world.” But why think this corporate language in a collectivist culture further entails that specific individuals were chosen to be in him when nothing in the text suggests this? Rather, in verses 1:13 and 1:19 it suggests that people are joined to that “us,” the body of Christ, through believing. So why think something that is true of the corporate body applies even further to individuals?

There are a few of reasons. The first reason is because the most natural reading of Ephesians 1 is that God chose individuals to be in Christ. After all, “us” is made up of individuals. “Us” is a personal pronoun, not an abstract group. It’s not exactly like “team.” If the passage had said something like, “God chose the NY Yankees before the foundation of the world,” Jonathan would probably have a point since members of the NY Yankees can come and go. Paul, on the other hand, is writing to “God’s holy people in Ephesus,” and “us” refers to both himself and them.

Second, in verse 11-12, Paul says that “In him we were also chosen, having been predestined according to the plan of him who works out everything in conformity with the purpose of his will, in order that we, who were the first to put our hope in Christ, might be for the praise of his glory.” Paul is speaking about individuals here. He’s not referring to an abstract group of people but to specific individuals who were the first to put their hope in Christ. It is these individuals who God predestined. Notice also that Paul says we were predestined by “him who works out everything in conformity with the purpose of his will.” It says everything. Since Paul is connecting predestination with God’s sovereign will over everything, the implication appears to be that the reason every individual who put their hope in Christ did so because it was part of God’s sovereign plan.

Third, this reading is consistent with many other passages in which it appears that God chooses individuals for salvation, including John 6, John 10, Romans 9, and Acts 13:48. In Acts 16:14, we can see an example of God opening the heart of an individual to be receptive to Paul’s message. According to Revelation 17:8, there are individuals whose names were written in the Book of Life from the foundation of the world. It appears from the whole counsel of scripture that God does choose individuals for salvation and not just abstract groups whose members can be in flux.

Question 11: Tim Stratton

Along the same lines as my previous question, if God determines all things and all Christians including each and every Calvinist affirms at least one false theological belief if not multitudes then it follows that God determines all of his followers to affirm false theological beliefs. It also follows that God determines you to affirm false theological beliefs. So here’s my question. Without begging the question, how do you know that Calvinism is not one of these false theological beliefs? Let me put it this way. If a deity of deception assured you that divine determinism is true, why should you believe it?

If Tim would just take a moment to think about what he’s saying, he would surely recognize that this epistemological problem applies equally to anybody who holds false beliefs for whatever reason. He’s making an argument that proves too much. If it is true, as Tim agrees, that we all hold false beliefs, then how do we know that any of our beliefs are true? How does Tim know that Calvinism is NOT true given his acknowledgement that some of his theological beliefs are false? Couldn’t his denial of Calvinism be one of his false theological beliefs?

However fallible we may be, we do have justification for at least some of our beliefs. I think Calvinism is true because after a lot of reading, studying, and thinking, I’m persuaded by the cumulative effect of it all that Calvinism is true. I could be wrong about it, but the mere possibility of me being wrong about it isn’t an adequate reason to think I am wrong about it. I need to be shown that I’m wrong about it, not merely presented with the mere possibility.

I don’t have privileged access to God’s mind. I have nothing but the resources he has given me to judge between true and false. God has made us all fallible. We have no choice but to use our cognitive faculties to the best of our ability to make distinctions between what is true and what is false. We are, inevitably, going to get some things wrong. That’s just the reality we live in, and it’s something we have to live with. But being fallible doesn’t mean we are never justified in affirming anything. We are justified to the degree that evidence, argument, and intuition persuade us.

Question 12: Braxton Hunter

When it comes to apologetics, many Calvinists think that Christians should be presuppositionalists, and the reason for this is because the evidential production of evidence and presentation to an unbeliever is going to be ineffective on someone who is hostile toward God. Or, worse than that, it could mean that they are putting themselves as judges over God. But it’s very common for Calvinists to say that God uses means. He uses the preaching of the gospel in order to convey truth, and then he draws by the Holy Spirit. So why could God not use the production of apologetic evidence embedded in the gospel message where a preacher might use stories and illustrations along with Biblical data. Apologists might use evidence for the resurrection along with Biblical data. Why can God not use means in this way, and if he can, then why do we need to be presuppositional apologists instead of classical apologists?

I am in complete agreement with Braxton. I blogged about it here, here and here. My position on apologetic methods is that we should use sound arguments whether those arguments are evidential, classical, presuppositional, or whatever. It doesn’t matter what kind of argument it is. It only matters whether the argument is sound.

Question 13: Jonathan Pritchett

Noticeably absent in all the talk about the doctrines of grace in reformed circles is any discussion about benefaction, gift giving, and the socioeconomics of patron-client reciprocity. Why is that when this is clearly the context of grace for Paul and his audience in the ancient Mediterranean world? Can you explain Calvinism or the doctrines of Grace using these contextual terms rather than theological loaded terms? I’d love to hear it.

As far as I know, nobody in the 1500’s, 1600’s, or 1700’s, whether they were Calvinists, Wesleyans, Arminians, or whatever, talked about grace and theology in those terms. I don’t use those terms and concepts because I’m not that familiar with them. The theological terms I use are because they work. As I said in question number nine, I’m a pragmatist when it comes to vocabulary. If certain theological terms are effective in communicating theological truths, then I will use those terms. Most Christians don’t seem to have a problem understanding them. It’s really only the Mormons that cause me to get bogged down in defining terms.

Question 14: Tim Stratton

Alright, consider the deity of the deception argument. Premise 1: If EDD is true, then God determines all Christians to affirm some false theological beliefs. Two: If God determines all Christians to affirm some false theological beliefs, then God is deceptive, and his word, the Bible, cannot be trusted, and Christians cannot have assurance of salvation. Three: God is not deceptive, his word can be trusted, and Christians can have assurance of salvation. Four: Therefore, God does not determine all Christians to affirm some false theological beliefs, and Five: therefore, EDD is false. So here's my question. With this argument in mind, what justifiable reasons do you have for believing what was inspired by a deity of deception? Why should you believe the Bible if it were inspired by a deity of deception? Now, be careful not to beg the question in response.

This question is not that different than the eleventh question and, again, Tim is raising an epistemological problem that applies just as well to him as it does to Calvinists. Given the fact that God causes people to believe false things (because the Bible is explicit about that, e.g. Ezekiel 14:9), how can we trust any of the deliverances of our reasoning? How can you solve that problem without begging the question? After all, you can only appeal to what you presumably know as a basis for arguing that you have knowledge, but if all of your alleged knowledge is under question, then you have nothing reliable to appeal to. By appealing to anything, you’re assuming what you’re trying to prove, namely, that you do know something.

We don’t need to wring our hands over the mere possibility that we could be wrong about things. We have many tools with which to distinguish between true and false. We have intuition, sensory perception, inductive reasoning, deductive reasoning, memory, authority, etc. If you come to your beliefs by the use of these tools, then that gives you justification for holding your beliefs. The mere possibility that you could be wrong does not remove that justification.

I believe the Bible partly because having read it from an early age, I find that I can’t help but believe it. My theological explanation for this belief is that I recognize the voice of my shepherd (compare John 10). But part of the reason I believe the Bible is because of my apologetic pursuits. I’m persuaded by historical arguments that Jesus is the messiah, that he rose from the dead, that he appointed apostles, and that those apostles either wrote or approved the books of the New Testament, etc.

Question 15: Braxton Hunter

When it comes to whether we’re morally culpable for our sins compatibilist Calvinists often speak of two different types of ability – conditional ability and categorical ability. Conditional ability has to do with whether a particular person could carry out, say, a moral obligation if he wanted to. Does he have the power to do it if he wanted to? And on this view he would not be held morally culpable if it were the case that he could not carry out some moral obligation even if he wanted to. So, for example, if a man is commanded to move a box from here to there, and this man doesn’t have arms, well, then he’s not morally culpable for not moving the box because he couldn’t do it even if he wanted to. If he does have arms, and he doesn’t move the box, then he is culpable because he has the conditional ability to move the box if he wanted to. But since determinism is true for the compatibilist determinist, and God has decreed that the man with arms will not move the box because his desires have been unchangeably determined, the man cannot want to move the box without undermining God’s decree. So in the case of the man with no arms, he’s not culpable because he doesn’t have the arms to pick up the box with. And in the case of the man with arms who has been determined not to want to pick up the box, the Calvinist can say he could do it if he wanted to, but the problem is his desires were determined by God even if through secondary causes. In either case, in one or the other senses of “can’t,” the man can’t do the thing that he is commanded to do. Why is the man morally culpable in one case but not in the other when, in both cases, there is some sense of “can’t” that means in the actual world the man can’t do what he’s commanded?

That’s a great question. Jonathan Edwards wrote a whole book on it (The Freedom of the Will), and I’ve talked about it a lot on this blog and elsewhere (here for example).

We both agree that the man with no arms is not morally culpable for his failure to lift the box since he is physically unable to lift the box.

We also agree that there is a sense in which the man with arms is also unable to lift the box. But his inability isn’t due to any physical limitation. It’s due to a psychological limitation. He simply lacks the desire to lift the box.

If we treat these two inabilities the same, we end up with some very counter-intuitive results. Let me explain.

Let’s say we require somebody to do something that’s very difficult to do, like maybe running a marathon of lifting something really heavy. If it were something very easy for the person to do, but he didn’t do it, we’d probably blame him. In fact, we often say things like, “It would have been so easy for you to do that. It wouldn’t have cost you a thing.” The fact that it was easy seems to make the person more culpable for failing to do it than they would be if it had been difficult or costly. If it was extremely difficult for somebody to pull something off, and they failed to pull it off, we would be a little more understanding. We’d still blame them since they COULD have done it if they had just tried harder. But we cut them a little slack, knowing how difficult it was. The more difficult it is, the closer it is to being impossible. It’s impossible for an ordinary person to lift a truck that weighs a ton. It’s impossible for some people to run a marathon. We don’t blame people at all when the difficulty reaches impossibility.

Notice that the more difficult it is, the less we blame somebody for not doing something. If it’s so difficult that they’re physically unable to do it, we don’t blame them at all. We attribute maximum blame for failing to do what would’ve been easy.

But what if we applied the same principle to psychological obstacles. Think about it. The stronger your desire to do something, the harder it is to resist the urge to do it. The harder it is to resist the urge to do something, the closer that desire is to determining your choice. If we apply the same principle to desires as we apply to physical limitations, then it would follow that the deeper your desire to do something, the less you can be blamed (or praised) for doing it. If the desire is so strong that you can’t help but give in to it, then you can neither be praised nor blamed for giving in to it. You are most culpable for your actions when they are not so much as influenced by desires, i.e. when you act out of indifference.

It follows that the deeper your love for somebody, and the deeper your desire is to do good for them, the less praiseworthy your acts of love are. And the deeper your hatred for somebody, and the deeper your desire is to harm them, the less blameworthy you are for harming them. After all, the deeper your desire to help or harm somebody, the harder it would be to resist doing so, and the closer those desires would be to determining your behavior.

But this is exactly backward. In reality, it is precisely BECAUSE your bad behavior arises out of bad motives and desires that you are blamable for them. If you shove an old lady because you hate old ladies, you are more blamable than if you shove her to save her from being hit by a bus. Your actions are blameworthy or praiseworthy to the degree that they are motivated by good or bad desires. The greater hand love plays in motivating your behavior, the more praiseworthy your actions, and the greater hand hate plays in motivating your behavior, the more blameworthy your actions. If your behavior arose spontaneously for no reason at all, then they would be accidents, in which case you can be worthy of neither praise nor blame. Since your actions are praiseworthy or blameworthy to the degree that they are influenced by your desires and motives, it follows that the greater hand your desires and motives have in bringing about your actions, the more praiseworthy or blameworthy they are. From that, it follows that you are maximally praiseworthy or blameworthy when your desires and motives have everything to do with your behavior, which happens when they are sufficient to determine your behavior.

This is all consistent with scripture. James said that it is evil desires that leads to sin (James 1:14-15). Jesus taught that our behavior is determined by the condition of our hearts (Matthew 12:33-35; Luke 6:43-45). In Matthew 7:18, Jesus went so far as to say, “A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, and a bad tree cannot bear good fruit.” In Jeremiah, it says, “Can an Ethiopian change his skin or a leopard its spots? Neither can you do good who are accustomed to doing evil” (Jeremiah 13:23). We are held accountable for our actions, not in spite of the fact that they are determined by the condition of our hearts, but precisely BECAUSE they are determined by the condition of our hearts.

Question 16: Tim Stratton

According to Calvinism, God does not choose the elect based upon anything about the individual, lest any man should boast (Ephesians 2:9). So those who are passed by, the damned, and those who are elect seem to be based on luck or chance. Indeed, in Calvinism, the elect seem to have won a cosmic and infinite lottery of sorts. Moreover, those who have been determined to hell, created for the sole purpose of eternal damnation, a decision made by God prior to the birth of the damned individuals, well those guys are literally the unluckiest folks in all of creation. So it seems to me that this leaves room for one to boast about how lucky they are compared to the next guy. But here’s my question. If God does not choose the elect based on anything about the person, how is their election anything but lucky?

Tim must have a strange conception of what luck and chance mean. The fact that God chooses people is the opposite of chance or luck.

In Question 4, Tim said that he was a Molinist. It seems to me that it is under Molinism that whether we are saved or not is a matter of luck or chance. In Molinism, God doesn't choose individuals. He chooses possible worlds. He may choose a possible world in which the greatest number of people get saved or the greatest ratio of saved to lost or something along those lines. Suppose there is a possible world in which Tim gets saved, but that world happens not to be a world in which the most people get saved or that has the greatest saved-to-lost ratio, so God doesn't actualize that world. Suppose the world that does have the greatest saved-to-lost ratio or the greatest number saved happens to be a world in which Tim does not get saved. It may be that God would like to have saved Tim, but darn the luck, Tim only gets saved in possible worlds where not enough people get saved for God to justify actualizing those worlds. So God has to sacrifice Tim in order to actualize a possible world in which more people get saved. It's just bad luck that the world God chose to actualize happens to be a world in which Tim doesn't get saved. After all, Tim could have been saved if God had just actualized a different world. If God does actualize a world in which Tim gets saved, Tim is just lucky that the world God chose to actualize happens to be a world in which Tim gets saved instead of a world in which he doesn't. In Molinism, God doesn't save anybody because he loves the individual. It's just a numbers game. Whether you get saved or not is a matter of luck because it depends on the counter-factuals of human freedom, which God has no control over, and the possible worlds you happen to get saved in. Election, in Molinism, is impersonal.

Question 17: Jonathan Pritchett

Why is an increasing number of Calvinists getting big mad at Dr. James White for calling out people in reformed circles in the online community for tolerating racism, for tolerating antisemitism, for tolerating holocaust denialism, and tolerating Andrew Tate fanboyism? Why all the hate against Dr. White? He’s doing the Lord’s work here.

I’m on James’ side, so this question doesn’t apply to me.

Question 18: Braxton Hunter

Does God love every individual? Does he love them all in the same sense? If not, then how does his love differ, and why do you think that?

I do think God loves everybody, but not in the same sense and not to the same degree. After all, sending somebody to hell is not an act of love. But causing the rain to fall on the just and the unjust is an act of love.

Question 19: Tim Stratton

According to the Oxford Dictionary online, a puppet is defined as a person under the control of another person. Sorry. Alright, Miriam Webster defined “puppet” this way: “one whose acts are controlled by an outside force or influence.” Cambridge defines puppet like this: “a person whose actions are controlled by someone else”. Well, we can add to these definitions. A puppet is a created thing that is fully controlled and determined by antecedent conditions, namely, the decisions of the puppeteer. Now, if exhaustive divine determination (EDD) is true, then humans are created beings who are fully controlled and determined by antecedent conditions and another personal being, God. That is to say, according to EDD, God exhaustively determines the physical and mental actions of every human all the time. So here’s my question. If a puppet, by definition, is a created thing that is fully determined by antecedent conditions, the decisions of another personal being, how is humanity anything different than a puppet if EDD is true?

Whether the term, “puppet,” applies to somebody or not depends entirely on how you define the word. I’m not that interested in an argument over semantics. If you want to define “puppet” as something that is determined, then sure, we’re all puppets. But shouldn’t the real issue be the question of whether we are, in fact, determined? Who cares what label that entails?

The puppet Tim showed us in his video was an inanimate object. That puppet does not act out of any desire. It has no mind at all. We are obviously not puppets in that sense.

People often call others puppets because they are acting on behalf of somebody else who makes all their decisions. We sometimes call politicians puppets because they’re acting out of the desires of their donors.

I readily admit that there is some sense in which we are all puppets, but who cares? I don’t care what you call me; I care whether determinism is true.

Any of us can influence another’s behavior. We do it all the time. You can just say, “Hey, look at that star,” while pointing, and your buddy will inevitably look. Does that make your buddy a puppet? It depends on how you define the word.

Consider some of the things Jesus said, and ask yourself whether any of this makes Jesus a puppet.

John 14:10 -- “The words I say to you I do not speak on my own authority. Rather, it is the Father, living in me, who is doing his work.”
John 12:49 -- “For I did not speak on my own, but the Father who sent me commanded me to say all that I have spoken.”
John 5:30 -- “By myself I can do nothing; I judge only as I hear, and my judgment is just, for I seek not to please myself but him who sent me.”
John 6:38 -- “For I have come down from heaven not to do my own will but to do the will of him who sent me.”
John 7:16 -- “My teaching is not my own. It comes from the one who sent me.”

Question 20: Braxton Hunter

Which aspect of your Calvinistic beliefs are you least confident about?

That’s a hard question to answer because there are some beliefs that are Calvinistic, but they are not exclusively Calvinistic. Sola Scriptura, for example, is a Calvinistic belief, but it’s not exclusively Calvinistic.

As far as exclusively Calvinistic beliefs, I like to call myself a one-point Calvinist. I believe in the absolute sovereignty of God in salvation. I think all of the traditional five points of Calvinism follow from that one point. Since to me there’s just one belief that captures my Calvinism, I can’t compare it to a second belief and say I’m more sure of one than of the other. I suppose I could say which of the implications of absolute sovereignty I’m least confident about. I’m not sure I can pick one, though. I explained in my blog post on one-point Calvinism how I think the five points follow, and none of them jump out at me as being less likely than all the others.

I can tell you, though, that when I was going through my conversion to Calvinism, the hardest thing for me to come around on was perseverence of the saints.

I may come back and edit this response in case something occurs to me that isn’t occurring to me right now.

Should Christians join the military and go to war? Part 2 of 2

In Part 1, I talked about my personal story surrounding this issue. Today, I want to talk about some of the specific reasons I had for being a conscientious objector and what I think about those reasons today.

Before I ever joined the Navy, I had already read the sermon on the mount where Jesus seemed to teach pacifism. All that stuff about turning the other cheek, doing good to those who harm you, etc., sure made it seem like you shouldn't hurt people no matter what. That, combined with the hippy phase I was going through as a late teen, made me friendly to the idea of pacifism even before I joined the Navy. So when I was exposed to the Watchtower arguments against Christian involvement in the military, I was already primed to agree with them. I was an easy sell.

Taken at face value, the New Testament does seem to teach a radical kind of pacifism. The fact that you may be harmed in the process doesn't seem to be a good excuse for retaliation or self-defense. We are explicitly told to love our enemies, to do good to those who harm us, not to seek revenge, to turn the other cheek, to forgive people, to seek peace and persue it, etc. Surely this prohibits Christians from taking up arms against anybody, whether in your own back yard or on a battlefield.

Probably the most compelling reason not to take things that far is the fact that sometimes it isn't just you who needs defending. It's your family. It's one thing to allow somebody to harm you without fighting back, but what if they're trying to harm your wife or kids? Surely, we have a responsibility to fight to protect them, don't we? The command to love our enemies surely doesn't nullify the command to love our neighbor. The command to love and care for our families ought to include protecting them when somebody else is trying to harm them. If you'll recall what I wrote in part 1, this reasoning is probably the biggest thing that has caused me to have doubts about my conscientious objector views.

One argument I have not found persuasive, though, is that Jesus was talking about personal conflict, not national conflict. I remember Greg Koukl making this point one time about loving your enemies, but I think he was mistaken. Jesus' command to love your enemies was juxtaposed with the already existing command to love your neighbors. If you look at the command to love our neighbor in its original context, you'll find that "neighbor" refers to fellow Israelites. That is likely how Jesus' audience would've understood the command because they were made up entirely of Jews. If "your neighbor" refers to fellow Israelites, then "your enemies" must refer to non-Israelites. That means the command to also love your enemies isn't talking about personal conflict. Jesus was making a political statement that applied to national conflict.

There seems to be an inconsistency in arguing on the one hand that the command to love our enemies only applies to personal enemies but not national enemies, but then to argue on the other hand that the obligation we have to protect our families with violence if necessary should apply just as much to protecting our country. There's a willingness to extrapolate from protecting our family to protecting our country, but an unwillingness to extrapolate from loving our personal enemies to loving our national enemies. But I digress.

There are a couple of other lesser points worth mentioning regarding Jesus' apparent teaching about pacificism and non-resistance. One is the possibility that Jesus was using hyperbole or he was only talking about insults and inconveniences, not physical harm, and it certainly didn't apply if somebody was trying to kill you. I don't know about that, though. I think we should take it seriously until we have good reason to make an exception. So I suppose we could take Jesus seriously but make room for moral dilemmas in which we have to choose the lesser of two evils. That would allow us to defend ourselves under dire situations like when somebody really wanted to harm us physically, especially if they wanted to kill us.

Another point worth mentioning that I already brought up in my digression is that it may be an unjustified extrapolation to go from defending your immediate family to defending your country. Surely we have obligations to our immediate families that we don't have to strangers who live a thousand miles away. But that does raise a thorny question, which is the question of where your obligation ends. I mean if I saw a stranger being attacked, surely I'd have an obligation to help them if I could. Maybe I don't have the same obligations to strangers that I do to my immediate family, but that doesn't mean I have no obligations. Moreover, tribes are extended families, and nations are extended tribes, so there isn't a clear line to draw between those we have an obligation to protect and those we don't.

That brings me to another argument I used to have against Christians in the military. In the New Testament, we are told that we should think of ourselves as aliens and strangers on earth and that our citizenship is in heaven. That means Christians shouldn't draw their "national" boundaries around certain areas of land the way secular governments do. Instead we should draw our national boundaries around our fellow Christians. There are Christians in almost every nation, and we should not go to war against each other just because of where we live. An American citizen who happens to be living in Canada would be thought a traitor if they joined the Canadians in waging war against America. Well, Jesus said his true followers would be known by the love they have for each other. Wouldn't that love be better displayed if the reason Christians gave for not joining the military is so they would not be forced to fight against Christians living in other countries?

I still think that's a decent argument, but it, too, is weakened by the Koukl Argument. What if the person trying to harm your family is a Christian? Well, if you have an obligation to defend your family with violence if necessary, it shouldn't matter whether the attacker is a Christian or not. So while I agree that in general, Christians shouldn't fight against each other, it does seem like one's fellow Christian can become one's enemy. An ideal solution would be that no Christian anywhere joined the military. Then scenarios like this wouldn't come up because Canada's army would not consist of any Christians trying to harm your neighbors. But the fact of the matter is that Christians do partipate in militaries, so you may be faced with having to defend your neighbors against Christian Canadians.

Another argument against Christian involvement in the military still carries a lot of weight with me. Joining a military requires taking an oath in which you voluntarily put yourself under the command of others who have the authority to tell you who to kill and who to protect. Not every war is a just war, and we all know that many unjust things happen in wars, even if we think the war in general is just. The Bible recommends not only avoiding sin but also avoiding situations that might cause you to sin. This should apply just as well to taking oaths. In fact, Jesus and Solomon both discouraged taking oaths, probably for reasons such as these. They force you into moral dilemmas. An oath could put you in a position of being obligated to do what you are obligated to refrain from doing. It would seem unwise, especially, to put yourself completely under the command of those who do not share your Christian values and are uninterested in your sense of right and wrong, which is exactly what a Christian would be doing by joining a secular military commanded by secular politicians.

The arguments I've heard against this are not at all persuasive. I remember when I was in the Navy, going through the conscientious objector process, being told that Jesus said to give to God what is God's and to Caesar what is Caesar's, as if to say you could have a divided loyalty. Jesus was talking specifically about paying taxes, though, and I don't see how this passage would allow you to engaged in an unjust war just because you belonged to the government. It is precisely because the government could at any time ask you to engage in an unjust war that you shouldn't have put yourself in that situation in the first place.

One other argument that also still carries a lot of weight with me is that it seems from historical evidence that Christians were nearly unanimous in condemning Christian participation in the military for the first two or three centuries of the church. This is evident both in the New Testament and in the writings of the early Church Fathers. In the New Testament, we have Jesus saying that those who live by the sword die by the sword, and Paul telling us that as Christians we do not wage war as the world does (i.e. by armed conflict). There is evidence in the early Church fathers that there were Christians in the military, but it was universally condemned. You have people like Tertullian explicitly condemning Christian participation in the military, and then you have accounts of people like Maximilian who succumned to martyrdom because he refused military service on the basis that he was a Christian and could not serve. I am sometimes surprised that Catholics became so friendly toward military service when they place so much weight on Tradition. There was a strong Tradition in the early Church about it being wrong for Christians to participate in the military, but that doesn't seem to matter to Catholics today. As a protestant, I'm not bound by Tradition, and I'm free to disagree with the early Chruch fathers. After all, they disagreed with each other on a number of things. But when there seems to be unanimity between them on a subject, that carries a lot of weight with me because it seems unlikely that they would have such a strong concensus on an issue if it were not correct.

One argument that used to be brought up a lot back in the day was that when the Centurion in Acts converted to Christianity, Peter never suggested to him that he should stop being a centurion. Also, John the Baptist told soldiers to be content with their pay, not to get out of the military.

In the case of John the Baptist, that argument didn't carry much weight with me because that happened before the ministry of Jesus in which Jesus introduced a new command--to love your enemies. The argument carries more weight with me now than it did then, though, because even though it's true that John the Baptist came before Jesus, we nevertheless have to consider the question of why the gospel writers decided to include that. The gospel writers weren't simply recording history in a disinterested way; they were teaching principles to a Christian audience. So it would seem that this teaching by John the Baptist was included because it's a principle the author thought still applied to his Christian audience.

In the case of the centurion, that argument didn't carry much weight because it's an argument from silence. We have no idea what advice Peter gave the centurion, because that wasn't the point of the story. The point of the story was about gentiles being able to convert to Christianity without first being Jews, which was a major controversy in the early church. So the argument from the centurion still carries little weight with me.

There's a lot more that could be said on this topic. It was not my intention to give an exhaustive account of all the arguments for and against Christian involvement in warfare and the military. I just wanted to share a bit of my personal reflections on the topic. If you want to read what I wrote back in the mid to late 90's in defense of Christian pacifism, you can check it out on the WayBack Machine: "Principles of a Conscientious Objector." I didn't address every point I made in that article in this post, and I didn't cite as many scriptures, but I hit on what I thought were the most significant points.

The bottom line is that I think there are good arguments for and against Christian involvement in warfare and membership in the military. I am not fully committed to either view. In Romans 14, Paul said that when it came to observing special days or not, or eating certain foods or not, it was a matter of personal conscience. But he also said that if you have doubts about whether it's okay to eat certain foods, then it's better not to do it. I apply Paul's principle to this subject because I am uncertain, so if I had to decide today whether I should join the Navy or not, I probably wouldn't. But at the same time, I wouldn't think any less of somebody who did, and I wouldn't try to discourage it. At most, I would only encourage the person to look into it because I think it's a topic any Christian considering joining the military should give careful study and thought to.

The Calvinist joke

Last year when the Presidential race was all the buzz, I noticed that on every single video featuring Joe Biden, the same jokes kept coming up. For example, it was inevitable that somebody would say, "The only thing progressive about Biden is his dementia." A joke like that is funny the first few times somebody says it, but when it comes up a gazillion times every single time Joe Biden pops up, it's not funny anymore. It's unoriginal, and the person who makes the joke isn't contributing anything to the discussion. They're just being a lazy mindless drone.

Well, the same thing happens whenever Calvinism gets brought up. There's a joke that gets made every single time. No matter what a Calvinist says, a non-Calvinist will say, "Well, God determined it to be that way." For example just today I accused Leighton Flowers of being uncharitable (which I'm starting to notice is a habit of his), and somebody came along and said, "On the upside White and his folk, cant get upset because in their worldview God decreed from eternity past that Flowers would be seen as uncharitable." That was a cute and witty come back the first dozen or so times this joke was made, but I'm pretty sure we're in the millions by now. It isn't clever or witty anymore, and it doesn't contribute anything. It's just a gnat that enters the discussion and makes a buzzing sound. How can even a non-Calvinist still chuckle at it after all this time? Shouldn't we all collectively groan?

The joke is based on the faulty notion that if some action or belief is determined, then that removes all rationality and clupability for it. I've already argued multiple times on my blog and elsewhere why this is a faulty notion, so I won't repeat my arguments here. I'll just provide a few links where I've discussed it elsewhere.

William Lane Craig against Calvinism, part 2 of 5 In this post, I responded to Craig's claim that determinism cannot be rationally affirmed. His argunment was that if your belief is determined, then it can't be rational, which means that belief in determinism is self-refuting because if the belief is true, then the belief is determined and therefore not rational. Craig's point of view is often used in "the Calvinist joke." Whenever a Calvinist enters a debate, somebody will say, "Well, I'm just determined to reject Calvinism."

William Lane Craig against Calvinism, part 3B of 5 In this post, I respond to Craig's claim that determinism removes human responsibility. The argument is that if your behavior is determined, then you can't be responsible for it since you couldn't have done otherwise. With that being the case, there is supposedly no basis from which to criticize anybody's behavior. No Calvinist has anything to complain about.

Calvinism and Evangelism In this post, I argue that under theistic determinism, means are not superfluous. It's just the opposite. As long as X is in the causal chain leading to Y, it follows that X is not superfluous. Many people wrongly think that if God decrees everything that comes to pass, then all of our efforts are in vain since the outcome is determined and can't be otherwise. That's what many manifestations of "the Calvinist joke" are based on.

People should stop making the Calvinist joke for two reasons. One reason is because it's old, tired, over-used, unproductive, and not funny anymore. The other reason is because it's based on bad reasoning and incorrect philosophical assumptions.

And I know what you're going to say. "But I was determined to make the Calvinist joke." There, I said it for you. Now let's move on.

More on physicalism, idealism, dualism, and weighing the evidence

Physicalists and idealists (at least some of them) dismiss dualism because of the difficulties in solving the interaction problem. But to do so, they each have to dismiss some of the evidence from their experiences as illusory. Idealists dismiss the evidence of our sensory perceptions as illusory, and physicalists dismiss the evidence of our introspection concerning our own volition as illusory. Again, I'm speaking of some physicalists and idealists here.

But it seems to me that the best theories or models of the world are going to be theories and models that do the best job of accounting for the most evidence. If we follow one line of evidence while dismissing anything that suggests otherwise as illusory, then we aren't really following the evidence where it leads. We're being selective.

But to some degree that may be unavoidable. There are almost always anomalies that we can't explain whenever we adopt a model or view of the world. But the goal ought to be to account for as many pieces of the puzzle as you can when constructing your worldview and dismissing as few pieces of evidence as anamalies or illusions as we can.

While I fully acknowledge the difficulties with the interaction prolem in substance dualism, idealism and physicalism are both untenable for me because of the pills I'd have to swallow if I accepted them. I can't imagine an argument that would be suffient to really and honestly cause me to think the external world is all mere percpetion with nothing external. While I might be able to say the external world is an illusion, and entertain the idea in a philosophical discussion over cheese and crackers, I don't think I could bring myself to honestly believe it. Or if I could, I guess I just haven't come across an argument that's sufficient to do the trick.

I feel the same way about physicalism. While a lot of physicalists will disagree with me about this, I don't think physicalism leaves any room for real volition or moral responsibility. Given physicalism, you can't rationally praise or blame anybody for anything because nothing is anybody's fault. Nobody does anything on purpose. We are all passive objects being acted upon, like a boat riding the waves. I've probably thought more about morality than any other subject in Christian apologetics. I've seen all kinds of arguments on every side, and there hasn't been anything that has moved me to think moralty is just in our heads and that we don't really have moral obligations, and there aren't any ojectively true moral claims. I can see how that would follow from physicalism, but that is precisely part of why I reject physicalism. But even if I could bring myself to think morality is entirely subjective, it would take another monumental argument to persuade me that I don't have control over my behavior at least some of the time, that I don't act volitionally, for reasons, and out of motives and intentions, that I'm just a passive observer with the illusion of volition. But if physicalism were true, that would have to be the case, so to be consistent, I must reject physicalism.

While dualism may have its deficulties, it has the advantage of at least trying to account for all of the evidence without dismissing some of it as illusory. Dualism is a livable worldview that isn't hard to honestly believe.

Other posts on this subject:

Skepticism about theories that invoke illusion to dismiss anomalies

It's always more reasonable to affirm the obvious than to deny the obvious

Materialism, dualism, and idealism

The power of intuition

Deluding ourselves

I think people in general have a tendency to delude themselves about themselves when there are expectations placed on them or when they hold themselves to certain standards. Christians do this, too. For example, some Christians believe that unless you speak in tongues, you haven't been baptized by the Holy Spirit, in which case you aren't saved. Since they believe speaking in tongues is a necessary sign of being saved, they conjure it up. They learn to blabber non-sense because they think that's what they're supposed to do, and they manage to convince themselves that it's real. I'm not saying there's no legitimate tongues, and I can't prove everybody is faking it, but I strongly believe most people who speak in tongues are faking it. And I'm not saying they are knowingly being fakes. I think in most cases they are deluding themselves.

Another area where Christians delude themselves is when it comes to God talking to them. A lot of Christians think it's normal for God to speak directly to them, to make their decisions for them or to give them guidance or insight. As a consequence, they interpret their experiences, or coincidences that happen to them, or feelings and hunches they have as the voice of God. I went to a church recently where just about everybody talked that way. I don't think God does talk to people that way, and even if he does, it's not the norm. If he did, it seems unlikely that he would happen to talk that way to people who go to a church where they think it's normal, but he doesn't in churches where they don't think it's normal. It seems more likely that people are just deluding themselves about the voice of God because that's what they want and expect. Or maybe they're deluding themselves out of peer pressure to be acceptable to the people around them since they think that's what everybody else expects from them.

Everybody, whether Christian or not, deludes themselves when it comes to morality. If you ask somebody why they did something wrong, they'll rarely say, "Because I wanted to," even though that's the most honest answer you could give. Sometimes, they'll conjure up some kind of justification for it to let themselves off the hook. It isn't just to try to look good to the other person either. They try to convince themselves because nobody likes to think of themselves as the bad guy. Even when people are willing to admit that they did wrong, they'll still give reasons that ameliorate their guilt. "Yeah, I did wrong, but look at the position I was in!" We all do this.

One time I told a Christian that the reason I had done something wrong was because at the time I wanted to commit the sin more than I wanted to please God. It seemed to me that was the most honest answer for why I sin or for why any Christian sins, which seems undeniable. But she acted like it was the most unChristian thing for me to say. She was horrified by it. If her feelings about it are the norm, then it's no wonder so few people are honest with themselves about their own sinfulness.

One area where I think Christians are especially prone to deluding themselves is in the area of forgiveness. Forgiveness is a big deal in Christianity because Jesus taught us to always forgive those who ask for it because God had forgiven us, and we should always turn the other cheek. You don't have to be a Christian to value forgiveness, but it is a virtue that is emphasized more in Christianity than outside of it. And unbelievers know this, so they're especially critical of Christians who are unforgiving, and they accuse them of hypocrisy if they can't forgive.

A lot of Christians will say they forgive somebody simply because they know that's what they're supposed to do. But there's a lot of discussion about what it even means to forgive. One definition says that to forgive somebody is to treat them as if they hadn't done anything wrong. But this is untenable in a lot of situations because while you might be required to forgive them, it would be foolish to trust them again. So forgiveness can't mean that we have to give them an opportunity to hurt us again.

Another definition for forgiveness means that you don't seek revenge or seek to get even or anything like that. That seems reasonable to me, but what about feelings of resentment? I think a lot of us believe that as long as we're harboring resentment, we haven't really forgiven the other person. Letting go of that resentment is part of what it means to forgive. The problem is that we can't simply decide to do that. It takes time to heal. This difficulty of letting go of our feelings of anger and resentment is why Christians are always asking each other what it really means to forgive. We'd like to define forgiveness in such a way that we can actually do it because we're supposed to. So what I've seen some Christians do (and what I've done) is try to convince ourselves that we're letting go of the resentment. We'll say we forgive somebody because that's what we're supposed to do, but we're not being entirely honest.

Maybe we should just stop saying we forgive people when we really don't. We should say we're trying if we honestly are. Sure, it'll make us look bad, and people will call us hypocrites, but we should be honest about that, too. We're sinners. We are guilty of hypocrisy sometimes.

While I am far from perfect, I do try to be honest with myself about my own moral failings. I was inspired to be this way a long time ago when I read something by C.S. Lewis in Mere Christianity. He said,

The truth is, we believe in decency so much--we feel the Rule of Law pressing on us so--that we cannot bear the fact that we are breaking it, and consequently we try to shift the responsibility. For you notice it is only for our bad behavior that we find all these explanations. It is only our bad temper that we put down to being tired or worried or hungry; we put our good temper down to ourselves.

This passage really made me want to be honest with myself about my own motives in the things I do and to be honest with myself about my own guilt and to resist the temptation to delude myself with excuses. Other authors have made similar observations.

"Wannamaker learned this lesson early, but I personally had to blunder through this old world for a third of a century before it even began to dawn upon me that ninety-nine times out of a hundred, people don't criticize themselves for anything, no matter how wrong it may be." ~Dale Carnegie, How to Win Friends and Influence People

"By and large we do know right from wrong, but wish we didn't. We only make believe we are searching for truth-so that we can do wrong, condone wrong, or suppress our remorse for having done wrong in the past." ~J. Budziszewski, The Revenge of Conscience

“Evil people never believe that they are evil; rather, they believe that everyone else is evil.” ~Mark Manson, The Subtle Art of Not Giving A Fuck, p. 133

Some people I've confided in have chastised me for being too hard on myself or for harboring guilty feelings while being clothed in the righteousness of Christ. But I don't see my efforts at honest introspection to be anything I should seek to avoid. I think it's a good thing. Even if it does drag you down, it's sobering. And how can you honestly seek forgiveness if you don't honestly face the depth of your own guilt? It is disingenuous to go to God for forgiveness while, at the same time, making excuses for your behavior to let yourself off the hook or to try to get God to understand your position. I think we should all seek to be brutally honest with ourselves about our failures rather than try to make excuses for ourselves and delude ourselves into thinking we're not so bad after all. Doesn't it diminish the glory of God in the demonstration of his mercy and grace to suggest that our sins weren't that bad?

I had a friend a long time ago who was being verbally abused by her boyfriend. When she confronted him about it, he didn't admit his fault and apologize. Instead, he tried to justify it. And his justifications were lame. I don't think the target audience for these justifications was her. I think it was him. Can you imagine her responding, "Oh, my bad! I guess it's okay for you to belittle me after all"? No, I doubt he expected that. What he was trying to do is ameliorate his own feelings of guilt. He wanted to convince himself that he wasn't so bad. The problem is that if he succeeded in convincing himself that he hadn't done anything wrong, he would have no motive to change. So being brutally honest with yourself is really essential for moral improvement. It's a bad sign when somebody who has wronged you tries to justify it because it means they are talking themselves out of any reason to stop doing it. That is the danger of deluding yourself about your own sinfulness.

Soft Libertarian Free Will

Blogspot seems to have made some changes that has made it impossible to post comments. My comment section works, probably because I'm still using an old theme, but I've been on two other blogspot blogs lately, and neither one will let me post comments. One of them is Evan Minton's blog. He recently posted an explanation of soft libertarian free will. Soft libertarianism differs from ordinarily (hard?) libertarianism in that your choices are limited to being within your nature (i.e. moral character). You're still free to choose between various options that are within your nature to choose, but you can't choose things that are against your nature.

This is the comment I tried to leave on Evan's blog post (edited a little since my last attempt).

How does moral accountability work with soft libertarianism? Some people say that you can't be blamed for doing wrong if you are unable to do good, and you can't be praised for doing good if you are unable to do bad. But if your nature restricts the scope of your options to good or to bad, then how can you be morally accountable for your actions?

Let's suppose you're in a situation where you can either choose to do X or choose to not do X. Doing X is morally obligatory, which entails that not doing X is wrong. If a person's nature constrains them in such a way that they can only do the right thing, then wouldn't that determine their choice in this case?

The reason I ask is because you defined soft libertarianism as being constrained to your nature, but free within your nature. But when it comes to individual choices, it's not a matter of doing X or doing Y; rather, it's a matter of doing X or not doing X. I can see how if your nature is good, and X and Y are good, then you could choose between X and Y, but if X is good, and not-X is bad, and you had to choose between X and not-X, you'd be determined to choose X, in which case soft libertarianism seems to reduce to determinism.

I suppose you could say there are some goods that are not obligatory. Or some actions are morally neutral. In your example, there's nothing wrong with playing a video game or writing a blog post, but there's also no obligation to do either. They're morally neutral. So you're free to do either. But in cases where some action is either forbidden or required, that wouldn't be the case. If it's forbidden, and your nature is to always do the right thing, then you'd be determined to choose not to do it. If it's required, and your nature is to always do the right thing, then you'd be determined to choose to do it.

So I'm not sure soft libertarianism accounts for a lot of the moral choices we have to make. If you are required to do X, and your nature is to do either right or wrong, then whether you choose X or not, you could not have done otherwise. Can a person be morally responsible for failure to do their duty if it was not within their nature to do their duty? Or can they be worthy of praise for doing their duty if it was not in their nature to refuse?

One of the objections compatibilists like myself have to the notion that Jesus or God had libertarian freedom is that it entails the ability to do evil (see "Does God have free will?"), which they are unable to do because of their perfectly moral character. The fact that Jesus and God are worthy of praise even though they are unable to do evil shows that libertarian freedom isn't necessary for moral responsibility. Soft libertarianism appears to be designed to avoid these criticisms. But I don't think it works. If we're going to say that some kind of libertarian freedom is necessary to be morally responsible, then there are a lot of things Jesus can't be praised for. The demands of the Mosaic law, combined with Jesus' perfect moral character, would've determined his choices in a lot of cases. Also, it seems to me that under the supposition that libertarianism is necessary for moral praise and blame, an act can only be good if one could've done otherwise, and the otherwise must be not good. How could one be worth of praise for choosing one good thing instead of another equally good thing? It seems like the instead of would have to be a bad thing or at least a less good thing. Can you imagine saying, "Oh, you are such a wonderful person because you chose to do that good thing when you could've just as easily chosen to do a different good thing"? That doesn't make sense. I would like to know from anybody who subscribes to soft libertarianism and thinks some kind of libertarianism is necessary for moral praise and blame, why does my ability to choose an equally good option instead of the one I chose make me worthy of praise? How does this improve upon a situation in which I'm determined by my moral character to choose a specific good action, and I couldn't have chosen a different action that was equally good? It seems to me, given the usual way that libertarians think of moral responsibility, I can't be praised for doing good unless I could've chosen evil, and I can't be blamed for choosing evil unless I could've chosen good. So soft libertarianism doesn't seem to solve the problems raised by compabilitists against libertarianism concerning Jesus and God's moral abilities and inabilities and their worthiness of praise.

See also "Does libertarian freedom entail the ability to do good or evil?"

William Lane Craig against Calvinism: a response, Part 3B of 5

Part 3A

I'm continuing to response to Craig's third reason for thinking reformed theology is problematic. I'll post it again to remind you of what he said.

3. Universal, divine, determinism makes God the author of sin and precludes human responsibility. In contrast to the Molinist view, on the deterministic view even the movement of the human will is caused by God. God moves people to choose evil, and they cannot do otherwise. God determines their choices and makes them do wrong. If it is evil to make another person do wrong, then on this view God is not only the cause of sin and evil, but becomes evil Himself, which is absurd. By the same token, all human responsibility for sin has been removed. For our choices are not really up to us: God causes us to make them. We cannot be responsible for our actions, for nothing we think or do is up to us.

Whether divine determinism removes human responsibility

It is understandable that we would think God determining our actions would remove our responsibility for them. We have a strong intuition that ought implies can, and that if we are unable to do something, then we cannot be blamed for our failure to do it.

But I think that if we are unable to do the right thing, it matters what the reason is for our inability. If I would like to do my duty, but I can’t because I’m duct taped to a tree, then I can’t be blamed for failure to do my duty. But if I’m unencumbered by physical restraints, and the only thing keeping me from doing my duty is the fact that I just really don’t want to, then I can be blamed. We don’t let people off the hook just because they’re doing what they want. Quite the opposite.

Under libertarianism, which Craig subscribes to, our desires do not determine our actions. In fact, no antecedent conditions at all, neither inside of us nor outside of us, are sufficient to bring about our actions if our actions are free. However, Craig would readily admit that antecedent conditions can have some influence over our actions. Otherwise, commands would be superfluous. Why command us to do anything if we would behave exactly the same whether we received the command or not? Commands only serve a purpose if they have some influence over our behavior.

Influence comes in degrees. Some influences have more power over us than others. The stronger our desires are, the more likely we are to give in to them. If our desires are so strong that we can’t help but give in to them, then our desires determine our actions.

If Craig is right in thinking that divine determinism removes our responsibility and that libertarian freedom is necessary for moral responsibility, then it would follow that the stronger our desire to do good, the less praiseworthy we are for doing it, and the stronger our desire to do evil, the less blameworthy we are for doing it. The reason is because the stronger our desire to do good or evil, the closer those desires are to determining our actions, and Craig thinks we cannot be responsible for our actions if they are determined by any antecedent conditions, including our own desires and motives.

If a desire removes all moral responsibility in case it is so strong that we cannot help but give in to it, then it would follow that the less influence desire has over our actions, the more responsible we are for them because the less influence our desires have over our actions, the more free we are in the libertarian sense. It would follow that we are most free (and therefore most responsible) when our desires have no influence over our actions at all.

But think about how counter-intuitive that is. It would follow that you are most responsible for your actions when you didn’t mean to do them. You had no plan to do them, no desire to do them, no motive, etc. You are most responsible for your actions when they are accidents that happen for no reason at all.

Moreover, the deeper your desire to do evil, the less blameworthy you are for doing evil, and the deeper your desire to do good, the less praiseworthy you are for doing good. The more hand your own intentions, desires, motives, inclinations, etc. have in bringing about your actions, the less responsible you are for your actions. And the less hand your own intentions, desires, motives, inclinations, etc. have in bringing about your actions, the more responsible you are for your actions.

That is the absurd consequence of Craig’s point of view. That is the absurd consequence in believing that ought implies can, not only in the physical sense (i.e. the physical or natural ability to act), but also in the psychological sense (i.e. the psychological ability to act, willingness to act, etc.).

But reason dictates that the two senses of having an inability to do otherwise are exactly opposite. The more physically difficult it is for you to do your duty, the less you can be blamed for your failure to do it. But the more psychologically difficult it is for you to do your duty, then the more you can be blamed for your failure to do it.

After all, our psychological motives for acting are the basis upon which we are praised or blamed. If I shove an old lady because I hate old ladies, then I can be blamed, but if I shove an old lady to save her from being hit by a bus, then I can be praised. The more my actions are influenced by love, the more praiseworthy they are, and they more my actions are influenced by hate, the more blameworthy they are.

We cannot be praised and blamed for actions that we did not intend or plan. We can always excuse ourselves on the basis that it was an accident. To do something on purpose is to do it out of a prior disposition. The actions we take on purpose are actions we do for reasons and motives. The more hand our own desires and motives have in bringing about our actions, the more those actions are under our control. It follows that our actions are completely under our control when they are completely determined by our own desires, motives, inclinations, etc. And we can only be responsible for actions that we perform on purpose.

Not only is libertarian freedom unnecessary for moral responsibility, but it’s actually inconsistent with it. A person is only free, in the libertaraian sense, to the degree that antecedent conditions (including a person’s own psychology) do not determine their actions. Consider the following diagram.

Libertarian freedom is indirectly proportional to the strength of our desires as well as every other psychological influence. If our desires are strong enough to determine our actions, then we have no libertarian freedom. We have the most libertarian freedom when our actions are not so much as influenced by our desires.

As I said before, commands (e.g. moral imperatives) are superfluous unless they have some power to influence our actions. But that means commands carry with them the very thing that removes libertarian freedom (and moral responsibility if you follow Craig). The more influence from commands, the less freedom in the will. Libertarianism, on the other hand, carries with it the very thing that makes commands superfluous. The more freedom of the will, the less influence from command. If you follow Craig, indifference is the only way you can be completely responsible for your actions since that’s the only state under which nothing but your own libertarian choice has any influence over your actions.

So far, I have argued that we can be responsible for our actions if they are determined by our own antecedent psychological states, especially our own desires, motives, and inclinations. But what of the cause of those prior psychological states? Some people claim that we must choose them before we can be morally responsible. If they arise from some outside cause, then we cannot be responsible for acting on them.

But that leads to an infinite regress. If you must choose your desires before you can be responsible for acting on them, then the choice of your desires must be determined by an even earlier desire. And that desire must be preceded by an earlier choice which also must be preceded by an earlier desire, etc.

There’s only one of two ways to halt this infinite regress. You can either halt it by beginning with a desire you did not choose (the compatibilist position) or by beginning with a choice that arose spontaneously without any determining desire at all (the libertarian position). Since we can only be morally responsible for actions we did on purpose, and our actions are only on purpose to the degree that they are determined by our own desires and motives, it follows that we cannot take the libertarian position. Ultimately, all of our actions must originate from desires that we did not choose. Otherwise, morality would be impossible altogether.

If it turns out that we can be morally responsible for our actions even when they are based on desire that we did not choose, then it doesn’t matter what causes our desires—whether somebody outside of us using persuasion, whether we are born with a sinful inclination, or whether God directly influenced our hearts. Since all of these causes for our desires lie outside of the will, they cannot be the basis upon which we are excused or held responsible. So if God hardens your heart resulting in you having a desire to disobey him, and you act on that desire, then you are still morally responsible.

Consider the Voldemort thought experiment. Voldemort is an evil character in Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling made him up. He’s only evil in the book, though, because that’s how Rowling wrote him. He’s not evil in reality because he doesn’t exist in reality. But suppose Rowling was able to pull him out of the book and into reality, and suppose that if she did so, he would be just the same in reality as he is in the book. Would he not act the same as in the books? And if he did, would he not be responsible for his actions?

You might say no since Rowling determined that he would be the way he is. But let’s suppose there are two people named Voldemort who are alike in every way, including all of their beliefs, desires, memories, habits, inclinations, biases, abilities, etc. The only difference between them is that one was born into the world the usual way and for whatever reason became like he is today. The other was created ex nihilo by J.K. Rowling just yesterday, and she planted all those memories, beliefs, desires, etc. in him. Considering the fact that at this moment, they are exactly alike in every way, doesn’t it follow that if one is responsible for his actions, the other is as well? And doesn’t it follow that it doesn’t matter how they got to be that way? We would all agree that the Voldemort who came into the world the usual way is responsible for his actions, so it follows that the Voldemort created by J.K. Rowling is also responsible for his.

And it follows that if God brought us into existence and caused us to have sinful desires, that we are just as responsible for our actions as we would be if he had not caused us to have sinful desires.

That is not only agreeable to the philosophical arguments I just made, but it’s also consistent with the scriptures. In Romans 9:18, Paul says that God “has mercy on whom he desires, and he hardens whom he desires.” Then he says, “You will say to me then, ‘Why does he still find fault? For who resists his will?’”

Now, why would Paul raise this question? The thought behind the hypothetical question is that if it is God’s will that our hearts are hardened, then he shouldn’t find fault in us. If God is the one who hardens our hearts, and if God’s will cannot be resisted, then we can’t help but sin. That raises the question of why God would hold us accountable for our sins. So Paul’s hypothetical question makes no sense at all unless Paul really means to be saying that God hardens people’s hearts, resulting in sin.

Notice that the hypothetical objection Paul raises to what he just taught is exactly the same objection Craig raises against reformed theology. Craig thinks that if divine determinism is true that it removes personal responsibility for our actions just as Paul’s hypothetical objector thinks. And just as the hypothetical objector is taking issue with what Paul just taught about the sovereignty of God, so also is Craig taking issue with what Paul just taught about the sovereignty of God. So Craig is on the wrong side of this issue Biblically.

Part 4

William Lane Craig against Calvinism: a response, Part 3A of 5

Part 2

3. Universal, divine, determinism makes God the author of sin and precludes human responsibility. In contrast to the Molinist view, on the deterministic view even the movement of the human will is caused by God. God moves people to choose evil, and they cannot do otherwise. God determines their choices and makes them do wrong. If it is evil to make another person do wrong, then on this view God is not only the cause of sin and evil, but becomes evil Himself, which is absurd. By the same token, all human responsibility for sin has been removed. For our choices are not really up to us: God causes us to make them. We cannot be responsible for our actions, for nothing we think or do is up to us.

Craig raises two points here. He says that divine determinism makes God the author of sin. He also says that divine determinism precludes human responsibility. I’ll treat these one at a time. Since I had so much to say, I separated part 3 into Part 3A and Part 3B.

Whether divine determinism makes God the author of sin

First, let’s talk about whether divine determinism makes God the author of sin. People frequently use the phrase “author of sin” without being clear about what they mean. There are at least two possible things that it could mean.

It could mean that God authored sin in the same sense that J.K. Rowling authored Voldemort’s evil except that sinners are real and Voldemort is not. In this view, God intended sin to happen, and he disposed the world in such a way to ensure that it would. Sin was part of God’s plan.

I readily admit that God is the author of sin in this sense. I don’t see how any Calvinist who subscribes to the Westminster Confession could deny it. The Westminster Confession says that “God from all eternity, did, by the most wise and holy counsel of his own will, freely, and unchangeably ordain whatsoever comes to pass.” If sin comes to pass, then God must’ve ordained it.

Even Craig must admit that God is the author of sin in some sense. According to Molinism, God knew all the counterfactuals of human freedom, and he knew all possible states of affairs, so he knew exactly what would happen depending on which world he chose to actualize. God chose to actualize this world knowing ahead of time that the inevitable outcome would be specific sins that he knew about. If he had refrained from creating this world, those sins would not have happened. So God is the author of those sins in some sense. He created the conditions under which those sins were inevitable.

I’m guessing Craig would say the difference is that when God disposes the world in such a way that he knows sin is inevitable, he doesn’t actually cause it to happen. Rather, he passively allows it to happen.

I don't think it makes much difference in whether God causes or allows evil. In either case, God intends the evil to come about because he has some good purpose in it. If God didn't have a good purpose in allowing the evil, he could've easily prevented it. He chose to allow the evil because he intended the evil to happen. That seems to me to be consistent with the view that "God decrees all things that come to pass." However you look at it, whether by allowing or causing, God disposes the world in such a way that evil is inevitable because evil is part of his plan.

Craig may object that sin isn’t something God intends to happen as a means to a greater good, but that sin is an inconvenience that God must work around to obtain his ultimate good. In that case, God doesn’t actually plan or intend sin to happen; rather, he just puts up with it because his hands are tied by the counterfactuals of human freedom.

However, the Bible is clear that God intends sin to happen because he has a purpose in it. It isn’t just an inconvenience that he’s forced to work around. Here are a couple of examples.

God meant for Joseph’s brothers to sell him into slavery, and even though his brothers meant it for evil, God meant it for good (Genesis 50:20).

When Pilate, Herod, the gentiles, and the people of Israel gathered together against Jesus in Jerusalem, they were doing what God predestined to occur (Acts 4:27-28). But the crucifixion was the means by which God saves people from his wrath against sin. God meant for Jesus to be crucified, which entails that he meant for somebody to crucify him.

I would go even further to show that in some cases, God directly causes people to sin. I may have lost some of my Calvinist friends at this point, but see what you make of my case.

We all know about God hardening Pharoah’s heart which resulted in Pharaoh not letting the Hebrews go. And we know that God punished Pharaoh for his refusal to let the Hebrews go even though that was God’s plan all along.

The common response is that Pharaoh hardened his own heart first. But as long as God played any role at all in Pharaoh’s heart being hardened, this common response does nothing to diminish the point. Whether God assisted Pharaoh in hardening his own heart or whether God did all the hardening himself, we're still faced with the same situation--God played a role in Pharaoh's heart getting hardened, and the result was sin. In fact, that's why God hardened his heart. He did it so he could display his power in Pharaoh (Romans 9:17). God meant for Pharaoh to refuse to let Israel go, and he played an active role in assuring that Pharaoh would choose just as he did. Whether you say God did that all on his own, or he just assisted Pharaoh, doesn't seem to make much difference because God was active (not merely passive) in either case.

There are other Biblical examples of God causing people to sin, which I’ll list here.

God causes people to be false prophets (1 Kings 22:23).

Isaiah 63:17 says, "Why, O LORD, dost thou cause us to stray from your ways, and harden our hearts from fearing you?"

He turned the heart of the Egyptians to hate the Hebrews and deal craftily with them (Psalm 105:23-25).

He caused the Egyptians to turn against each other and to resort to idolatry and necromancy (Isaiah 19:2-3).

He sent the Assyrians to plunder and trample Israel (Isaiah 10), then punished them for taking the credit for it.

He sent the Babylonians to destroy Jerusalem and the surrounding nations, then punished them for it (Jeremiah 25).

He causes people to forget the Sabbath and feasts (Lamentations 2:6).

John 12:39-40 “For this reason they could not believe, for Isaiah said again, ‘He has blinded their eyes and he hardened their heart, so that they would not see with their eyes and perceive with their heart, and be converted and I heal them.’”

1 Peter 2:8 “For they stumble because they are disobedient to the word, and to this they were also appointed.”

Revelation 17:7 “ For God has put it in their hearts to execute his purpose by having a common purpose, and by giving their kingdom to the beast, until the words of God will be fulfilled.”

These passages make God out to be the author of sin in the sense that God intends and brings it about that people commit sin.

But there is another possible meaning to the phrase, “author of sin,” which is that God himself commits sin. Craig says, “If it is evil to make another person do wrong, then on this view God is not only the cause of sin and evil, but becomes evil Himself, which is absurd.” Whether God is evil himself hinges on the premise that it is evil to make another person do wrong.

In general, I think it is wrong to cause another to sin. The Bible gives several warnings against being a stumbling block to other people and causing them to sin.

Matthew 18:6-7 “If any of you puts a stumbling block before one of these little ones who believe in me, it would be better for you if a great millstone were fastened around your neck and you were drowned in the depth of the sea. Woe to the world because of stumbling blocks! Occasions for stumbling are bound to come, but woe to the one through whom the stumbling block comes!”

1 Corinthians 8:9-12 “But take care that this liberty of yours does not somehow become a stumbling block to the weak. For if someone sees you, who have knowledge, dining in an idol’s temple, will not his conscience, if he is weak, be strengthened to eat things sacrificed to idols? For through your knowledge he who is weak is ruined, the brother for whose sake Christ died. And so, by sinning against the brethren and wounding their conscience when it is weak, you sin against Christ.”

Although it’s clearly a sin to cause somebody else to sin, I think this is only a prima facie moral imperative that is not without exception. Just as lying is wrong in most cases, one can imagine scenarios in which lying would be the right thing to do, such as protecting Jews from Nazis during the holocaust. In the same way, there are scenarios in which it is not wrong to cause another to sin.

Consider this scenario. You are a quadriplegic confined to a wheel chair, and you know two things: 1) That there is a black man hiding in the woodshed near you with a detonator prepared to blow up a school filled with black children and teachers; and 2) There is murdering racist about to walk by who would like nothing better than for as many black people to die as possible, and he would gladly kill any black person he sees.

If you are a moral person, you would like to be able to stop the man in the woodshed from blowing up the school, but you’re a helpless quadriplegic. The only person around who can help is the murdering racist about to walk by. How are you going to get him to stop the man in the woodshed?

Well, you can’t just tell him he’d be saving hundreds of kids if he stops the man in the woodshed because if he finds out the kids are black, he may let the man hit the detonator or hit it himself. There are no altruistic motives you can appeal to to get the racist to stop the man in the woodshed.

Pretty much the only thing you can do is appeal to the racists’ murdering intentions. If you do nothing, he’ll just walk on by, so the best thing for you to do is tell him there’s a black man in the woodshed, and he better kill him quick, not to save innocent lives, but just because he’s black. That’s the only way to save all those kids, and it seems to me that’s the moral thing to do.

I made up that scenario. Maybe I could’ve come up with something more simple if I were more creative. But the point is to illustrate that it is possible for there to be a morally justifiable reason for causing another person to sin. If it is possible for us to be morally justified in causing people to sin, at least in some cases, then it is possible that God has a morally justifiable reason for causing people to sin in all cases in which they sin. Before Craig could argue that God causing people to sin makes God evil, Craig would first need to rule out that possibility.

However, the Bible is not silent on the issue. It specifically tells us in some cases why God causes people to sin. In the case of Joseph’s brother selling him into slavery, the purpose was to save people from starvation. In the case of hardening Pharaoh’s heart, we are told that God did it to demonstrate his power (Romans 9:17). Jonathan Edwards argued in The End For Which God Created the World that God’s ultimate end in everything is his own glory, and God’s glory is made manifest in the demonstration of his attributes. God’s glory is the greatest good, and with God being perfectly good, it stands to reason that he would have a passion for his own glory. I don’t want to go into detail about that because it would make this blog post a lot longer, so have a look-see at Edward’s book.

God is justified for causing people to sin because he does so for good and praiseworthy ends which outweigh the immediate consequences of sin. But that is not the only reason God is justified in causing people to sin. He is also justified for a reason that does not apply to mere mortals. He is justified because he is God—the creator. He is justified because of his divine prerogatives and absolute autonomy and freedom to do as he wishes with his creation.

In Romans 9:18, Paul says that God “has mercy on whom he desires, and he hardens whom he desires.” Then he says, “You will say to me then, ‘Why does he still find fault? For who resists his will?’” Paul responds to this hypothetical challenge in a number of ways, but the first thing he points out is God’s freedom and autonomy to do as he wishes with his creatures. He says, “On the contrary, who are you, o man, who answers back to God? The thing molded will not say to the molder, ‘Why did you make me like this?’ will it? Or does not the potter have a right over the clay to make from the same lump one vessel for honorable use and another for common use?” So, according to Paul, God has the moral right to harden whom he desires. He therefore is not evil for causing people to sin.

Part 3B