God cannot suffer. Or, to use more technical theological jargon, God is impassible. To the contemporary Christian, this seems an odd, if not distasteful claim. Does it not hurt God when His creatures reject Him? Is He not disappointed when we sin against Him? Do not even the scriptures speak of God being grieved in His heart (Gen. 6:6, Is. 63:10)? Furthermore, if God cannot suffer, how can He know me and know what I experience? Can a God incapable of suffering truly love me if He doesn’t suffer when I suffer?

These objections are not silly or unfounded, but neither are they new objections to the classical doctrine of divine impassibility. The Church has dealt with these thorny questions for centuries. Even so, almost all Christian traditions have held that the doctrine of impassibility is vital. James Dolezal points out that, “Historically [impassibility] commanded wide ecumenical backing, being maintained by the Eastern Orthodox, Roman Catholics, Lutherans, Reformed, Anglicans, Presbyterians, Congregationalists, Baptists, Methodists, and more.”[1] Indeed, the 2nd London Baptist Confession, 39 Articles, and Westminster Confession, all affirm that God is “without body, parts, or passions” (2LBCF 2.1). We would be wise to heed the words of Chesterton to never take down a fence until we know the reason it was put up, and the wisdom of Solomon to, “not move the ancient landmark that your fathers have set” (Prov. 22:28). As we shall see, Divinity cannot suffer, yet in the incarnation God the Son does enter into our human experience and suffer to manifest His love to us, thus bringing us to Himself.

Impassibility

When we say that God is without passions, we are saying that He does not have changeable affections, that the Divine Being cannot suffer (which implies the want or the lack of anything good), and He does not experience emotions the way that human beings do. Certainly, God is love (1Jn. 4:8) and He loves His people (Ps. 36:7), yet He cannot be passively affected in His emotions by His creatures.

There are several biblical and theological arguments in favor of this doctrine. First, the doctrine of impassibility is a corollary to the doctrine of immutability. God does not change (Mal. 3:6, Num. 23:19), therefore neither does He experience emotional flux, at one moment sad, at another moment happy. In considering the doctrine of God’s immutability, some may attempt to argue that, while God does not change in His essence, He does undergo some external and relational changes, i.e. His will and His affections undergo change. This is similar to the way in which we, as humans remain who we are, yet undergo various external changes as we age and grow. In this way, God can remain unchangeably who He is, yet His external affections and His will and His relationship to His creatures can change. But the apostle James would disabuse us of this notion. He says that with God, “there is no variation or shadow due to change” (Ja. 1:17). There is no change in God of any sort, not even a shadow of change. (For a discussion on how we are to understand the scripture passages that refer to God being grieved and regretting His actions, I would refer you to the excellent article in this series by Sam Renihan on Analogy and Simplicity.)

Divinity cannot suffer, yet in the incarnation God the Son does enter into our human experience and suffer to manifest His love to us, thus bringing us to Himself.

The light of nature confirms the necessity of an unchanging God. Turretin says, “[God] can neither be changed for the better (because He is the best) nor for the worse (because he would cease to be the most perfect).”[2] Since God is immutable and unchanging such that there is not even a shadow of change in Him, then it must also be said that He has no passions and that He cannot suffer. He cannot go from a state of perfect blessedness and happiness to a state of grief or sorrow or a state of pleasure to a state of pain.

Second, to say that God can suffer is to reject the omnipotence of God. What creature has the power to harm God? In order to maintain the Creator/creature distinction, we must affirm God’s impassibility, because a failure to do so is to affirm that God can, in some sense, be subject to the actions of His creature. But God is infinite and transcendent. He depends on no one and nothing for His existence, being, and perfect blessedness. As the only truly self-sufficient One, He cannot be moved or acted upon by any of His creatures such that they could harm Him in any way. A creature cannot cause any emotion to arise in God because this would make some aspect of God dependent upon an outside cause. But no creature has the power to give to God anything that He does not already possess, nor to take anything from Him (Rom. 11:34-36). God cannot receive anything good from His creatures which He once lacked (i.e. joy), nor can His creatures take anything good from Him so as to deprive Him of His own perfections.

Third, the scriptures speak directly to God’s impassibility. The apostle Paul identifies God as the impassible One in Acts 14:15. While preaching in the town of Lystra, the inhabitants of the town began to worship Paul and Barnabas as gods. But Paul says to them,

Men, why are you doing these things? We also are men, of like nature with you, and we bring you good news, that you should turn from these vain things to a living God, who made the heaven and the earth and the sea and all that is in them. (ESV)

The Greek word that the ESV translates as “like nature” is homoiopatheis, which means ‘like-passions.’ Paul is saying to them, ‘do not worship us as gods. We have passions just like you do, and as such, we cannot be divine.’ For Paul, the proof that he and Barnabas were not divine was the fact that they were not impassible, but rather subject to passions.

Finally, in Romans 1:23, Paul calls God the incorruptible God. This does not merely refer to His moral perfections, it refers to His very being. Nothing in God can be corrupted from one thing into another. His joy cannot be corrupted into sadness, nor His happiness into grief, nor His eternal blessedness into suffering. Rather, His integrity is maintained in every way.

He Suffered in the Flesh

God cannot receive anything good from His creatures which He once lacked, nor can His creatures take anything good from Him so as to deprive Him of His own perfections.

Having established divine impassibility, we now run into a theological quandary. Since God cannot suffer, and since Jesus is God, how can we say that Jesus suffered? Indeed, how do we understand the words of scripture which tell us that He is a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief (Is. 53:3), that He suffered in His temptation and even died (1Pet. 4:1, Heb. 2:14, 18)? The Bible is clear that the Son must suffer in order to atone for the sins of His people (Heb. 2:17-18; 5:7-9; Rom. 6:10). But how can He atone for our sins if He cannot suffer? How can He die for us if He cannot die?

It may be said that God the Son can suffer because He assumed unto Himself a human nature so that He is both God and man. The Symbol of Chalcedon declares that the Son is,

To be acknowledged in two natures, inconfusedly, unchangeably, indivisibly, inseparably; the distinction of natures being by no means taken away by the union, but rather the property of each nature being preserved, and concurring in one person and one Subsistence, not parted or divided into two persons, but one and the same Son, and only begotten, God the Word, the Lord Jesus Christ.

That is, the second person of the Trinity, in the fullness of time (Gal. 4:4), assumed unto Himself a human nature with a body of flesh and reasonable soul so that in this incarnation there was a union of a divine nature and a human nature within the one Person (a hypostatic union). These two natures are not mixed together into a human/divine hybrid, thus becoming neither human nor divine. Nor are the two natures separated into two subjects as though the single person of the Son split Himself into two separate persons (i.e. a human person and a divine person). As the Athanasian Creed says, “although He is God and man, yet He is not two, but one Christ.” The human nature does not receive a little bit of divinity and a little bit of immortality, nor does the divine nature receive anything from the human nature, the natures are united, but not mixed.

Sometimes, the Son acts according to His human nature, and sometimes He acts according to His divine nature, but it is always God the Son acting. In addition, that which can be said of His human nature can and must be said of the person of the Son, and that which is said of His divine nature can and must be said of His person. However, that which can be said of His human nature (ignorance, mortality, weakness) cannot be said of His divine nature. Conversely, that which can be said of His divine nature (immortality, omniscience, omnipresence) cannot be said of His human nature. This is what has come to be known among theologians as the communicatio idiomatum (communication of properties). The properties of the natures can be predicated of the Person but not of each other.

Thus, the Son could grow in wisdom and in stature (Lk. 2:40) even though an increase in wisdom implies previous ignorance. God is all knowing and cannot grow in wisdom because there is nothing He does not already know. To grow in stature is to change, and as we have already seen, it is impossible for God to change. Yet, the Son of God, grew and learned according to His human nature which is neither immutable nor omniscient. He did not, and could not, learn or grow according to His divine nature. This is also why Jesus could say that the Son does not know the day of the coming of the Son of Man, but only the Father (Mark 13:32). The Son is ignorant of the future according to His human nature while at the same time being omniscient according to the divine nature which He and the Father have in common.

Were the sufferings of the Christ endured by a mere human person they would not have the redemptive value necessary to bring us to God.

It is proper to human nature to be mortal, to suffer, and to die. Therefore, the Son of God, God Himself, can suffer, according to His human nature. Yet, the divine nature cannot die or suffer, and it does not. We see this in Acts 20:28 where Paul says that God purchased the church with His own blood. How is this possible? God does not have blood, He is pure spirit (Jn. 4:24). While the divine nature does not have blood, God does have blood according to the human nature of the Son. So, when the Son suffers to make atonement, He does not take that suffering up into the divine nature as if the two natures were mixed, but He really does suffer truly according to His human nature, which is capable of such suffering. As John of Damascus says,

For when the one Christ, who is composed of divinity and humanity, and exists as both human and divine, suffered, the passible element suffered, as was natural to it, but the impassible element did not suffer along with it.[3]

For Us and For Our Salvation

It is necessary that the Son be impassible according to His divine nature. If He is not impassible, He is not immutable, He is not Omnipotent, He is not Self-Sufficient (a se), He is not transcendent, He is not God. Yet it is also necessary that the Son be capable of suffering so that He might, by His humiliation, sufferings, and death, purchase our salvation. Cyril of Alexandria says it this way,

Since on this account He wished to suffer, even though he was beyond the power of suffering in His nature as God, then he wrapped Himself in flesh that was capable of suffering, and revealed it as His very own, so that even the suffering might be said to be His because it was His own body which suffered and no one else’s.[4]

The atonement that He made in the body of His flesh is efficacious to redeem a lost race because it is the passible body of God Himself. Were the sufferings of the Christ endured by a mere human person they would not have the redemptive value necessary to bring us to God. But the blood which was shed was the blood of a divine person, making it infinite in value and worthy to purchase lost souls. Thus, we see the immense love and wisdom of God, “who, for us men and for our salvation, came down from heaven, and was incarnate by the Holy Spirit of the virgin Mary, and was made man.”

[1] James E. Dolezal, “Strong Impassibility,” in Divine Impassibility: Four Views of God’s Emotions and Suffering, ed. Robert J. Matz and A. Chadwick Thornhill, Spectrum Multiview Books (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic: An Imprint of InterVarsity Press, 2019), 14.

[2] François Turrettini, Institutes of Elenctic Theology. 1: First through Tenth Topics (Phillipsburg, NJ: P & R Publ, 1992), 205.

[3] St John of Damascus, On the Orthodox Faith: A New Translation of An Exact Exposition of the Orthodox Faith, trans. Norman Russell (St Vladimirs Seminary Pr, 2022), 225.

[4] Saint Cyril of Alexandria, On the Unity of Christ, trans. Anthony McGuckin (Crestwood, NY: St Vladimirs Seminary Pr, 2005), 118.

Few phrases expose the confusion and contradiction of our time more than “self-identifying.” Many today assume that anyone can assign to themself any identity they wish, and no one can question it. Even if that chosen identity runs counter to every observable, biological reality. But what about as a Christian? Is it enough to simply identify yourself as a Christian to make it so?

Scripture teaches that you become a genuine Christians, not by assigning yourself the label, but by the Spirit, whose work is observable in a personal confession of faith in Jesus as Lord. Paul wrote, “no one can say, ‘Jesus is Lord,’ except in the Holy Spirit” (1 Cor 12:3). Christianity’s fundamental message is “Jesus Christ as Lord” (2 Cor 4:5), so Christians are those who have received Him as Lord (Col 2:6) and confessed Him to be the same. Memorably, Paul wrote in Romans 10:9:

… if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.

Christians believe that their salvation from judgment is based on Jesus’ vicarious life and substitutionary death, being assured of this by the fact that He rose from the dead. And that faith includes the public testimony and confession that He is Lord. We could say that “Jesus is Lord” is the most succinct creedal summary of Christianity and the very basis of our creedal heritage.

The word creed comes from the Latin, credo, which means, “I believe.”[1] And confession comes from Greek and Latin words referring to a public testimony or agreement. In other words, Christians can be identified objectively as those who confess with their mouths the creed of their hearts, that Jesus is Lord. But how can we determine whether someone means by their confession the same thing that the Bible does? How can we be sure they agree on the Bible’s teaching on who Jesus is and what it means to say that He is Lord?

Christians can be identified objectively as those who confess with their mouths the creed of their hearts, that Jesus is Lord.

Since the days of the Apostles, there have been distorted understandings of our Lord based on the misuse of His revelation. Take, for example, the claim of Hymenaeus and Philetus, that “the resurrection already happened” (2 Timothy 2:17). Truly, Christians “are alive to God in Christ Jesus” (Rom 6:11), but these men were distorting the biblical teaching on the resurrection. A common characteristic of false teaching is that it takes God’s words but uses the devil’s dictionary. In the second century, Tertullian observed, “They put forward the Scriptures, and by this insolence of theirs they at once influence some.”[2] In the 19th century, James Bannerman said the same:

A man may accept as the rule of his faith the same inspired books as yourself, while he rejects every important article of the faith you find in these books.  If, therefore, we are to know who believes as we do, and who dissent from our faith, we must state our creed in language explicitly rejecting such interpretations of Scripture as we deem to be false.[3]

So to preserve the Scripture’s teaching on the future, bodily resurrection, and Christians are to persevere in the hope of it, Paul cited a “trustworthy saying” (vv. 11-13).[4] It is a short synthesis of what the Bible taught so that Timothy could use it as a standard to train other teachers (v. 14) and to guide his own teaching, “rightly handling the word of truth” (v. 15). This is how the church was to follow “the pattern of sound words” (1:13) that the Apostles had given.

Scripture itself assumes that it reveals a coherent body of doctrine that may be summarized and then used to evaluate any specific claim or teaching. This is why we find references to “the faith” (Jude 3) or “a standard of teaching” (Rom 6:17), or that elders are to “hold firm to the trustworthy word as taught” (Titus 1:9). Scripture prods us to synthesize its teaching to discern whether doctrinal claims or confessions of Christ are true or false. Failing to use such creedal summaries of the Bible is simply unbiblical, as Carl Trueman has said:

To claim to have no creed but the Bible, then, is problematic: the Bible itself seems to demand that we have forms of sound words, and that is what creeds are.[5]

The early church obeyed this biblical imperative and followed the apostolic example by using credal summaries that they called “the rule of faith” or truth. Irenaeus articulated the rule of faith in the second century like this:

“One God, the Creator of heaven and earth, and all things therein, by means of Christ Jesus, the Son of God; who, because of His surpassing love towards His creation, condescended to be born of the virgin, He Himself uniting man through Himself to God, and having suffered under Pontius Pilate, and rising again, and having been received up in splendor, shall come in glory, the Savior of those who are saved, and the Judge of those who are judged, and sending into eternal fire those who transform the truth, and despise His Father and His advent.”[6]

Anyone familiar with the later creeds will recognize their origin here in this rule. To explain the purpose of the rule of faith, Christian leaders likened it to the plans that were given along with tiles for the mosaics that were popular on floors and walls in the Roman empire. The plan showed how the tiles were to be installed to create the intended mosaic design. Similarly, the rule of faith showed how Christians were to properly arrange the teachings of Scripture to truly confess Jesus as Lord. Irenaeus put it this way: “he also who retains unchangeable in his heart the rule of the truth… though he will acknowledge the gems [mosaic pieces], he will certainly not receive the fox instead of the likeness of the king.”[7]

Yet as the church grew, “foxes” continued to crop up as biblical “mosaic pieces” were misassembled and disfigured the glory of Christ. This was especially concerning in respect to the fundamentals of the faith, the unity of God and the Lordship of Jesus. God’s people have always confessed “the Lord is one” (Deut 6:4). With the appearing of Jesus, the Lord revealed Himself to be God the Father, and the Son, Jesus (1 Cor 8:5-6), and the Holy Spirit (2 Cor 3:17). So, when we confess Jesus as Lord, we are baptized into the singular name of three persons – “in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit” (Matt 28:19). How would the church confess that the Lord is one and that the man, Christ Jesus, is Lord? The spread of unbiblical answers to this question demanded clarity on the being of God and natures of Jesus Christ.

By focusing on such questions, the early church was not majoring on minors, much less was it being seduced by Greek philosophy. Rather it understood that being precedes doing, and that what God has done to save us by faith in Jesus depends entirely on who God is as Father, Son, and Spirit and what it means for Jesus to be Lord. If Christ is not truly God, then He could not have endured eternal judgment on our behalf nor secured eternal righteousness as our everlasting Intercessor. And if God is not Triune, then He cannot be seen or explained by the Son who assumed our nature and walked among us as a man, nor bring us to Himself through faith in Jesus by the Spirit.

When we confess Jesus as Lord, we are baptized into the singular name of three persons – “in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit”.

So by the fifth century, the rule of faith had been sharpened by trial and consensus into what we now know as the ecumenical creeds, the Apostles’ Creed, Nicene Creed, Athanasian Creed, along with the Definition of Chalcedon.[8] Though the history is detailed and complicated at many points, the motivation to compose and affirm these creeds was the same as Paul’s “trustworthy sayings” in the New Testament. They were standards to keep men from rearranging scriptural truth to depict a fox rather than our Savior. Far from adding to Scripture, creeds were preserving its meaning and attempting, as R.C. Sproul put it, “to show a coherent and unified understanding of the whole scope of Scripture.”[9] That was the explicit understanding in the early church, while the creeds were still young. Basil, for example, while arguing for the unity of the Father and the Son said:

That it is the tradition of the Fathers, though, is not sufficient for us, for they followed the meaning of the Scripture and had as a source the very proof-texts that I presented to you from Scripture a little earlier.[10]

As concise summaries of scriptural truth, creeds were used to prepare candidates for baptism and to give the church standards to examine their public confession of Christ. Of all people, credobaptists ought to appreciate this! And, of course, Baptists have.

The cry for sola Scriptura in the Reformation in no way diminished the Reformers’ regard for the tradition received from the early church. John Calvin, for example, in the preface to his Institutes argued, “If the contest [with Rome] were to be determined by patristic authority, the tide of victory—to put it very modestly—would turn to our side.”[11] Later he wrote:

… we willingly embrace and reverence as holy the early councils, such as those of Nicaea, Constantinople, Ephesus I, Chalcedon, and the like, which were concerned with refuting errors—in so far as they relate to the teachings of faith. For they contain nothing but the pure and genuine exposition of Scripture.[12]

As the Reformational churches wrote confessions to expound and distinguish their positions, they remain rooted in the credal heritage of the earlier centuries. The confessions of the Particular Baptists are no exception. The First London Confession of Faith reflects classical, creedal language, following the Athanasian creeds.[13] While the Second London Confession of Faith (2LCF) follows the Nicene creed in describing the Trinity with as “of one substance” and the Son as “begotten” (2.3). It also follows Nicaea and Chalcedon on the person of Christ (2LCF 8.2) even more closely than its predecessor, the Westminster Confession.[14] So Tom Nettles is right to argue:

Baptists are orthodox. That is to say one must first be a Christian before he can be a Baptist. Orthodoxy includes knowledge of God as the triune God and knowledge of Christ as Son of God and Son of Man.… The language [of 2LCF 2.3] derives from the vocabulary and concepts of the early church councils and reflects the decisions expressed in the creeds of Nicaea, Constantinople, and Chalcedon. It even affirms the filioque clause, that is, that the Spirit proceeds from the Father ‘and the Son’. These Baptists would not find credible any sense of spiritual security or knowledge of God that did not conform to the ‘doctrine of the Trinity’. Any doctrines of the faith not consistent with and dependent on this doctrine had no proper foundation.[15]

One of the early Particular Baptist pastors, Hercules Collins, published a revision of the Heidelberg Catechism, consistent with Baptist convictions, which he titled An Orthodox Catechism. To Question 22, “What are those things which are necessary for a Christian man to believe?” Collins gave as an answer:

All things which are promised us in the gospel. The sum of this is briefly comprised in the articles of the catholic and undoubted faith of all true Christians, commonly called the Apostles’ Creed.[16]

Here Collins reflects the same conviction as the Reformer, Martin Luther, who once said of the Apostles’ Creed, “Christian truth could not possibly be put into a shorter and clearer statement.” Collins further included the full text of the Apostles’ Creed, along with the Nicene and Athanasian Creeds in an appendix, offering this explanation in his preface:

I have proposed three Creeds to your consideration, which ought thoroughly to be believed and embraced by all those that would be accounted Christians, viz, the Nicene Creed, Athanasius His Creed, and the Creed commonly called the Apostles; the last of which contains the sum of the Gospel; which is industriously opened and explained; and I beseech you do not slight it because of its Form, nor Antiquity, nor because supposed to be composed by Men.[17]

The Baptists rejected magisterial church polity because of what Scripture taught, and they affirmed the historic creeds for the same reason. The historic Baptist view is “The creedal baby must not be discarded with its ecclesial bathwater.”[18] Baptists today must hold the same conviction.

The church needs the creeds if we are to proclaim Jesus is Lord to the world with biblical clarity and receive only those into our number who confess it truly with us.

We are called to minister to a generation convinced of an individual’s ability to construe reality however they see fit. So, the danger of misconstruing the fundamental pillars of Christian faith is as present today as it was in earlier centuries. We see it in the spread of novel doctrines, like “eternal functional subordination” (EFS), which claims the Son is subordinate to the Father in God Himself.[19] The arguments underlying EFS mimic the way that Arians interpreted passages of Scripture.[20] And they disregard the teaching of Nicaea on the Son, as “of one substance with the Father,” and the Athanasian Creed, “in this Trinity, none is before, or after another; none is greater, or less than another.” If such an approach to Scripture is adopted, churches are left vulnerable to any number of heresies. B.H. Carroll, the first President of Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary, recognized this more than a century ago:

The modern cry, ‘less creed and more liberty,’ is a degeneration from the vertebrate to the jellyfish, and it means more heresy. Definitive truth does not create heresy – it only exposes and corrects. Shut off the creed and the Christian world would fill up with heresy unsuspected and uncorrected, but nonetheless deadly.[21]

Of course, merely formal creedal affirmations are always possible. Some may ascent to them with a knowledge that is little better than a demon’s (Jas 2:19). But this is not avoided by avoiding the creeds. Rather we expect and disciple others to sincerely and personally embrace the scriptural truth they summarize. Creeds are not a hindrance to a personal, sincere profession of faith in the Lord Jesus. C.H. Spurgeon argued the same:

To say that ‘a creed comes between a man and his God,’ is to suppose that it is not true; for truth, however definitely stated, does not divide the believer from his Lord.[22]

In recent surveys, nearly three-fourths of America identifies itself as Christian. But we would be justly skeptical of that reflecting reality. Self-identified “Christians” and wide-spread confusion about the truth of our God and His Son, Jesus, has sadly muddled the testimony of the gospel in our nation. In this day, God still calls the church to be “a pillar and buttress of the truth,” so what “we confess” has eternal significance (1 Tim 3:15-16). The church needs the creeds if we are to proclaim Jesus is Lord to the world with biblical clarity and receive only those into our number who confess it truly with us. It would not be biblical, Christian, or Baptist, to fulfill our calling without them.

[1] Burk Parsons explains the etymology as “Dating back to the late twelfth century, the word credo likely emerged from the compound kerd-dhe, which can be translated ‘to put one’s heart,’ pointing out the nature of a creed as that which we believe from our hearts and confess with our mouths.” In Why Do We Have Creeds? (P&R, 2012), p. 7.

[2] The Prescription against Heretics, 15.

[3] James Bannerman, The Church of Christ [1868], 1:298.

[4] See Fesko

[5] Carl Trueman, The Creedal Imperative (Crossway, 2012), p. 76

[6] Irenaeus, Against Heresies, 3.4.1-1; cited by Justin Holcomb, Know the Creeds and Councils (Zondervan, 2014), p. 12.

[7]  Irenaeus, Against Heresies, 1.9.4; see Kathyrn Greene-McKreight, “Rule of Faith,” in Dictionary for the Theological Interpretation of the Bible (Baker, 2005), pp. 703-04.

[8] Technically, what we typically call the Nicene Creed is the “Niceno-Constantinopolitan Creed,” as the Nicene Creed of 325 was expanded and finalized at Constantinople in 381. For an accessible and brief introduction to the history of the creeds and councils, see Holcomb, Know the Creeds and Councils (Zondervan, 2014). For a longer, more detailed survey, see Donald Fairbairn & Ryan Reeves, The Story of Creeds and Confessions (Baker, 2019).

[9] R.C. Sproul, “Norma Normata – A Rule that Is Ruled,” Tabletalk (Ligonier, April, 2008), cited by Parsons, Why Do We Have Creeds?, p. 19.

[10] On the Holy Spirit, 7.16; Stephen Hildebrand, trans (SVS Press, 2011), p. 44

[11] Institutes of the Christian Religion, Prefatory Address, 4 (McNeill, Ed.; F. L. Battles), 1:18.

[12] Ibid., IV.9.8, 1:1171–1172

[13] Malcom Yarnell, “Baptists, Classic Trinitarianism, and the Christian Tradition,” in Baptists and the Christian Tradition (B&H, 2020), p. 61; James Renihan, For the Vindication of the Truth: A Brief Exposition of the First London Baptist Confession of Faith (Founders Press, 2021), pp. 36-40.

[14] James Renihan, To the Judicious and Impartial Reader: An Exposition of the 1689 London Baptist Confession (Founders Press, 2022), 219–220.

[15] Tom Nettles, The Baptists, vol. 1, (Christian Focus, 2005), p. 37

[16] Thomas Nettles with Steve Weaver, Teaching Truth, Training Hearts (Founders Press, 2017), p. 64

[17] Ibid., pp. 58-59, 100-01.

[18] Rhyne Putnam, “Baptists, Sola Scriptura, and the Place of the Christian Tradition,” in Baptists and the Christian Tradition, p. 45.

[19] EFS has also been labeled Eternal Relations of Authority and Submission (ERAS) and the Eternal Submission of the Son (ESS). Its main proponents include Bruce Ware, Grudem, and Owen Strachan. For an overview of their teaching and citations of their publications, see Matthew Barrett, Simply Trinity, pp. 213-59. See also Steve Meister, “You Need One to Count to the Trinity,” Credo (15/1, 2024), available: https://credomag.com/2024/06/you-need-one-to-count-to-the-trinity/.

[20] See, for example, Matthew Emerson, “The Role of Proverbs 8,” in Sanders & Swain, eds., Retrieving Eternal Generation (Zondervan, 2017), p. 65, n. 66.

[21] Cited by Parsons, Why Do We Have Creeds?, p. 24

[22] C.H. Spurgeon, The Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit Sermons, vol. 34 (London: Passmore & Alabaster, 1888), iii.

If you abandon Eternal Relations of Authority and Submission (ERAS) between the persons of the godhead, will you lose complementarianism as well? Does a commitment to classical trinitarianism undermine or weaken the case for headship and submission within the home? Some may fear that a departure from ERAS opens the door to egalitarianism. Unfortunately, a key figure in the Trinity debates from 2016 serves as anecdotal evidence.

Aimee Byrd allowed Liam Goligher, former Senior Minister at Tenth Presbyterian Church, to publish a critique of ERAS on her blog that ignited the 2016 Trinity debates. Six years after the initial blog post, Aimee was preaching sermons in the gathered assembly on the Lord’s Day. Complementarians may fear that denying ERAS either weakens the case for complementarianism or puts one on a slippery slope to egalitarianism.

I understand the weight of this concern. In 2014, I moved my family from California to Louisville in order to study Systematic Theology under Dr. Bruce Ware, a leading proponent of ERAS and complementarianism, two doctrines I held near to my heart and proclaimed in my ministry. Ware’s commitment to these doctrines was one reason I desired to study under him. After completing requisites for the PhD program, I applied to study with Ware amidst the Trinity debates and was accepted into the doctoral program early in 2017. I no longer share my dear friend’s view of the Trinity, but I still cling to complementarianism, a teaching from which I never wavered.

Am I inconsistent? Must I choose between Byrd and Ware? Does classical trinitarianism break the dam that holds back the waters of egalitarianism? To affirm complementarianism, must I remain committed to ERAS? The answer to these questions is a resounding no!

In order to answer no, one merely needs to demonstrate that the persons of the godhead neither necessitate nor provide an analogy for complementarianism, but I wish to take readers further. Christians ought to embrace complementarianism because of the created order, not the mystery of the Trinity. Other articles in this series contend for classical trinitarianism, contentions I agree with and assume. So, in this piece, I argue that those who hold to classical trinitarianism can, and ought to, embrace complementarianism. To defend this assertion, first, I maintain that our doctrine of the Trinity neither binds us to complementarianism nor provides license for egalitarianism. Second, I demonstrate that the doctrine of creation grounds complementarianism. Third, I look to John Gill as a helpful example of navigating through theological and exegetical reasoning for classical trinitarianism and complementarianism. In short, Christians should be classical and complementarian.

Christians ought to embrace complementarianism because of the created order, not the mystery of the Trinity.

First, the doctrine of the Trinity neither binds us to complementarianism nor provides license for egalitarianism. Complementarians who hold to ERAS and those who become egalitarian because they deny ERAS make a common mistake: they assume the doctrine of God provides a social agenda. Some who hold to ERAS see the Trinity as a blueprint that binds male and female roles, grounding their complementarianism. Others derive their license for egalitarianism from their classical trinitarianism. Both views commit the same error. They assume that the persons of the Trinity provide a blueprint for human relations.

Admittedly, it is easier to see how proponents of ERAS make this mistake. How egalitarians who hold to the classical doctrine of the Trinity fall prey to the same error is less clear. Allow me to explain. Those who think the fall of ERAS frees them to pursue egalitarianism also believed that the Trinity was a social program. No longer seeing their social agenda moored to the mystery of the Trinity, they unfastened from the church’s teaching on the duties of men and women. Neither ERAS complementarians or classical egalitarians properly grounded their views of male and female in the doctrine of creation.

Both views deny that creation supplies a sufficient and stable guide for male and female duties. ERAS proponents commit this error by anchoring their views of male and female to the relations between the persons of the godhead. Attack ERAS and you undermine the duties of men and women. Some complementarians agreed and fiercely held to ERAS. Some egalitarians agreed and felt liberated to preach in the gathered assembly on the Lord’s Day. Egalitarians, like ERAS complementarians, also deny that creation supplies a sufficient and stable guide for male and female duties. Their understanding of men’s and women’s responsibilities shift with the winds of redemptive history and social agendas of the day. Typically, the redemptive work of Christ or social status of women in a particular time and place allow for an ever-shifting understanding of the duties God requires of men and women. For neither view is creation alone able to ground the duties of men and women.

This leads to my second argument. The doctrine of creation grounds complementarianism. Paul exemplifies this reasoning in his argumentation, and we should too. In 1 Corinthians 11:3-16, he reflects on the teaching promulgated by God in and through nature (1 Cor 11:14). Nature teaches the truth that women originate from men and that women are made for men, as Eve was for Adam. Yet, nature also teaches us that men are not without need of women since men come through women, Adam excepted. The woman is from the man and the man comes through the woman. The preposition “from” indicates primacy and authority. All humans are “from” men and all things are “from” God. The principle of origination is evident in the first man and persists throughout creation. As long as humans come “from” men, men will serve as authorities and heads. As long as men come through women, men will depend upon women.

In 1 Timothy 2:11-15, Paul categorically prohibits women from teaching or exercising authority over men in the church. He reasons from the primacy of Adam, from whom Eve comes, which reveals the established pattern of teaching and authority. The pattern is similar to 1 Corinthians 11:3-16. Although Paul brings the fall and redemption to bear on his reasoning, these arguments confirm an already present order given in a good creation that is found in the beginning, persists through the fall, and remains throughout the age of the church. Paul’s reasoning encompasses the first Adam and the consummation of all things by the last Adam.

These texts teach us how to think through our doctrine of God and the duties of men and women by providing two helpful lessons. First, Paul never mentions the persons of the Trinity as the basis for his teaching, contra ERAS. Although the Spirit fills believers to submit (Eph 5:18-21), he does not serve as a model of submission. The name “Son” may imply submission to some contemporary Christians, but we should reject this reasoning. “Son” is one name used to describe the unique relative property of the one who is from the Father. The language of “Word,” and “radiance” fail to imply submission. However, all three words—Son, Word, and radiance—specify that this one of whom we speak is from another. All our language about God is analogical, including the name “Son.” Thus, we ought not to read human notions of father-son relations into the godhead. This move is thoroughly Christian since Trinitarians have always denied the traditional creaturely baggage of time and space that comes with earthly sons, including a heavenly mother. Reading submission into the simple and single will of the Godhead is as mistaken as imputing other creaturely features to the eternal Son.

Nature teaches the truth that women originate from men and that women are made for men, as Eve was for Adam.

Second, Paul argues for the permanent validity of the creation order, contra classical egalitarians. This article is too short to address all the egalitarian objections to these passages, but it is important to note the kinds of objections typically provided. Egalitarians usually appeal unique temporal, cultural, practical, or redemptive aspects in, behind, or beyond the text. But these objections fail for several reasons. First, Paul addresses each epoch of human history from creation, through the fall, in redemption, and until the consummation. Second, he speaks categorically of men and women, indicating the universality of his application. Third, he appeals to representative figures. Adam and Eve stand as figureheads for all men and women. Just as the first woman is from man, so all women are from men. Just as the first child is through a woman so all children are through women. Fourth, Paul provides timeless instructions in the surrounding texts. As we have already noted, 1 Corinthians 11:3-16 reflects on truths taught in nature. In 1 Timothy, Paul provides instructions for prayers in the church (1 Timothy 2:1-8) and qualifications for elders and deacons (1 Timothy 3:1-13), so that the household of God would be properly ordered until the end of the age (1 Timothy 3:14-16). Paul’s prohibition of women teaching and exercising authority in the church continues as long as the church exists, prayers are offered for unbelieving authorities, and the offices of elders and deacons remain in the church. Fifth, Paul highlights unchanging realities that endure until the end of the age. As long as women are from men and men are through women, Paul’s instructions abide. As long as the church of Jesus endures, Paul’s instructions must be followed. Paul’s reasoning precludes any arguments grounded in accidental social situations or upheaval of the natural order on account of Christ’s redemptive work. There is no time, place, or person to whom Paul’s instructions do not apply.

Paul’s reasoning is creational, not trinitarian. When Paul refers to God, it is the one God from whom all creatures originate. When Paul refers to Christ’s redemptive work of grace, it perfects nature while leaving its structural integrity in place. Thus, ERAS proponents fail to find a trinitarian argument for male and female duties and classical egalitarians are compelled to follow God’s prescribed pattern given in creation.

My third, and final, argument comes from John Gill who affirmed classical trinitarian theology and maintained complementarianism. Gill possessed an ability to navigate through a text of Scripture with a keen eye for the rich theology it contained. He also read the Bible theologically. He brought the grammar of the doctrine of God, the persons of the godhead, and the two natures of the Son to bear upon every text he read. Consider 1 Corinthians 11:3, which reads, “But I want you to understand that Christ is the head of every man, and the man is the head of a woman, and God is the head of Christ.” Commenting on this text, Gill writes:

“[God] that is, the father, not as to his divine nature, for in respect to that they are one: Christ, as God, is equal to his father, and is possessed of the same divine perfections with him; nor is his father the head of him, in that sense; but as to his human nature, which he formed, prepared, anointed, upheld, and glorified; and in which nature Christ exercised grace on him, he hoped in him, he believed and trusted in him, and loved him, and yielded obedience to him; he always did the things that pleased him in life; he prayed to him; he was obedient to him, even unto death, and committed his soul or spirit into his hands: and all this he did as to his superior, considered in the human nature, and also in his office-capacity as Mediator, who as such was his servant; and whose service he diligently and faithfully performed, and had the character from him of a righteous one; so that God is the head of Christ, as he is man and Mediator, and as such only.”[1]

Gill rightly accentuates Christ’s assumed human nature which is inferior to the same Son’s divine nature. The inferior human will of the Son submits to the superior divine will of the Father, which just is the Son’s divine will. Gill understands that submission entails two wills, one superior and one inferior, and acknowledges that the Son submitted to the Father by virtue of his human, rather than divine, will. According to Gill’s reasoning, ERAS proponents cannot properly read their theology into texts like 1 Corinthians 11:3.

But Gill also soundly rejects the faulty hermeneutics of classical egalitarians. He denied that women could teach in the public assembly on the Lord’s Day and argued that the usurpation of authority did not merely relate to the pulpit but was grounded in the duties of male and female found in creation. Commenting on 1 Timothy 2:12, he writes:

“Women are not to teach in the church; for that is an act of power and authority, and supposes the persons that teach to be of a superior degree, and in a superior office, and to have superior abilities to those who are taught by them: nor to usurp authority over the man; as not in civil and political things, or in things relating to civil government; and in things domestic, or the affairs of the family; so not in things ecclesiastical, or what relate to the church and government of it; for one part of rule is to feed the church with knowledge and understanding; and for a woman to take upon her to do this, is to usurp an authority over the man: this therefore she ought not to do, but to be in silence; to sit and hear quietly and silently, and learn, and not teach, as in ver. 11.”[2]

Gill rightly concludes that a woman teaching in the gathered assembly usurps the authority of a man, an authority manifested in multiple spheres of life. His commitment to classical trinitarian and Christological doctrines evident in his exegesis does not hinder his ability to rightly affirm male headship in the home, behind the pulpit, and in society. In this way, Gill provides a helpful path forward for Christians who wish to be classical and complementarian.

A commitment to classical trinitarian theology does not require one to abandon complementarianism. We encounter problems only when we assume that the Trinity either binds us to a blueprint for human relations or provides license for our social agenda. Scripture turns our eyes to the stable and sufficient guide for male and female duties. Men like John Gill help us see these truths. Christians ought to be classical and complementarian.

[1] John Gill, An Exposition of the New Testament, vol. 2, The Baptist Commentary Series (London: Mathews and Leigh, 1809), 683.

[2] John Gill, An Exposition of the New Testament, vol. 3, The Baptist Commentary Series (London: Mathews and Leigh, 1809), 286.

If you abandon Eternal Relations of Authority and Submission (ERAS) between the persons of the godhead, will you lose complementarianism as well? Does a commitment to classical trinitarianism undermine or weaken the case for headship and submission within the home? Some may fear that a departure from ERAS opens the door to egalitarianism. Unfortunately, a key figure in the Trinity debates from 2016 serves as anecdotal evidence.

Aimee Byrd allowed Liam Goligher, former Senior Minister at Tenth Presbyterian Church, to publish a critique of ERAS on her blog that ignited the 2016 Trinity debates. Six years after the initial blog post, Aimee was preaching sermons in the gathered assembly on the Lord’s Day. Complementarians may fear that denying ERAS either weakens the case for complementarianism or puts one on a slippery slope to egalitarianism.

I understand the weight of this concern. In 2014, I moved my family from California to Louisville in order to study Systematic Theology under Dr. Bruce Ware, a leading proponent of ERAS and complementarianism, two doctrines I held near to my heart and proclaimed in my ministry. Ware’s commitment to these doctrines was one reason I desired to study under him. After completing requisites for the PhD program, I applied to study with Ware amidst the Trinity debates and was accepted into the doctoral program early in 2017. I no longer share my dear friend’s view of the Trinity, but I still cling to complementarianism, a teaching from which I never wavered.

Am I inconsistent? Must I choose between Byrd and Ware? Does classical trinitarianism break the dam that holds back the waters of egalitarianism? To affirm complementarianism, must I remain committed to ERAS? The answer to these questions is a resounding no!

In order to answer no, one merely needs to demonstrate that the persons of the godhead neither necessitate nor provide an analogy for complementarianism, but I wish to take readers further. Christians ought to embrace complementarianism because of the created order, not the mystery of the Trinity. Other articles in this series contend for classical trinitarianism, contentions I agree with and assume. So, in this piece, I argue that those who hold to classical trinitarianism can, and ought to, embrace complementarianism. To defend this assertion, first, I maintain that our doctrine of the Trinity neither binds us to complementarianism nor provides license for egalitarianism. Second, I demonstrate that the doctrine of creation grounds complementarianism. Third, I look to John Gill as a helpful example of navigating through theological and exegetical reasoning for classical trinitarianism and complementarianism. In short, Christians should be classical and complementarian.

Christians ought to embrace complementarianism because of the created order, not the mystery of the Trinity.

First, the doctrine of the Trinity neither binds us to complementarianism nor provides license for egalitarianism. Complementarians who hold to ERAS and those who become egalitarian because they deny ERAS make a common mistake: they assume the doctrine of God provides a social agenda. Some who hold to ERAS see the Trinity as a blueprint that binds male and female roles, grounding their complementarianism. Others derive their license for egalitarianism from their classical trinitarianism. Both views commit the same error. They assume that the persons of the Trinity provide a blueprint for human relations.

Admittedly, it is easier to see how proponents of ERAS make this mistake. How egalitarians who hold to the classical doctrine of the Trinity fall prey to the same error is less clear. Allow me to explain. Those who think the fall of ERAS frees them to pursue egalitarianism also believed that the Trinity was a social program. No longer seeing their social agenda moored to the mystery of the Trinity, they unfastened from the church’s teaching on the duties of men and women. Neither ERAS complementarians or classical egalitarians properly grounded their views of male and female in the doctrine of creation.

Both views deny that creation supplies a sufficient and stable guide for male and female duties. ERAS proponents commit this error by anchoring their views of male and female to the relations between the persons of the godhead. Attack ERAS and you undermine the duties of men and women. Some complementarians agreed and fiercely held to ERAS. Some egalitarians agreed and felt liberated to preach in the gathered assembly on the Lord’s Day. Egalitarians, like ERAS complementarians, also deny that creation supplies a sufficient and stable guide for male and female duties. Their understanding of men’s and women’s responsibilities shift with the winds of redemptive history and social agendas of the day. Typically, the redemptive work of Christ or social status of women in a particular time and place allow for an ever-shifting understanding of the duties God requires of men and women. For neither view is creation alone able to ground the duties of men and women.

This leads to my second argument. The doctrine of creation grounds complementarianism. Paul exemplifies this reasoning in his argumentation, and we should too. In 1 Corinthians 11:3-16, he reflects on the teaching promulgated by God in and through nature (1 Cor 11:14). Nature teaches the truth that women originate from men and that women are made for men, as Eve was for Adam. Yet, nature also teaches us that men are not without need of women since men come through women, Adam excepted. The woman is from the man and the man comes through the woman. The preposition “from” indicates primacy and authority. All humans are “from” men and all things are “from” God. The principle of origination is evident in the first man and persists throughout creation. As long as humans come “from” men, men will serve as authorities and heads. As long as men come through women, men will depend upon women.

In 1 Timothy 2:11-15, Paul categorically prohibits women from teaching or exercising authority over men in the church. He reasons from the primacy of Adam, from whom Eve comes, which reveals the established pattern of teaching and authority. The pattern is similar to 1 Corinthians 11:3-16. Although Paul brings the fall and redemption to bear on his reasoning, these arguments confirm an already present order given in a good creation that is found in the beginning, persists through the fall, and remains throughout the age of the church. Paul’s reasoning encompasses the first Adam and the consummation of all things by the last Adam.

These texts teach us how to think through our doctrine of God and the duties of men and women by providing two helpful lessons. First, Paul never mentions the persons of the Trinity as the basis for his teaching, contra ERAS. Although the Spirit fills believers to submit (Eph 5:18-21), he does not serve as a model of submission. The name “Son” may imply submission to some contemporary Christians, but we should reject this reasoning. “Son” is one name used to describe the unique relative property of the one who is from the Father. The language of “Word,” and “radiance” fail to imply submission. However, all three words—Son, Word, and radiance—specify that this one of whom we speak is from another. All our language about God is analogical, including the name “Son.” Thus, we ought not to read human notions of father-son relations into the godhead. This move is thoroughly Christian since Trinitarians have always denied the traditional creaturely baggage of time and space that comes with earthly sons, including a heavenly mother. Reading submission into the simple and single will of the Godhead is as mistaken as imputing other creaturely features to the eternal Son.

Nature teaches the truth that women originate from men and that women are made for men, as Eve was for Adam.

Second, Paul argues for the permanent validity of the creation order, contra classical egalitarians. This article is too short to address all the egalitarian objections to these passages, but it is important to note the kinds of objections typically provided. Egalitarians usually appeal unique temporal, cultural, practical, or redemptive aspects in, behind, or beyond the text. But these objections fail for several reasons. First, Paul addresses each epoch of human history from creation, through the fall, in redemption, and until the consummation. Second, he speaks categorically of men and women, indicating the universality of his application. Third, he appeals to representative figures. Adam and Eve stand as figureheads for all men and women. Just as the first woman is from man, so all women are from men. Just as the first child is through a woman so all children are through women. Fourth, Paul provides timeless instructions in the surrounding texts. As we have already noted, 1 Corinthians 11:3-16 reflects on truths taught in nature. In 1 Timothy, Paul provides instructions for prayers in the church (1 Timothy 2:1-8) and qualifications for elders and deacons (1 Timothy 3:1-13), so that the household of God would be properly ordered until the end of the age (1 Timothy 3:14-16). Paul’s prohibition of women teaching and exercising authority in the church continues as long as the church exists, prayers are offered for unbelieving authorities, and the offices of elders and deacons remain in the church. Fifth, Paul highlights unchanging realities that endure until the end of the age. As long as women are from men and men are through women, Paul’s instructions abide. As long as the church of Jesus endures, Paul’s instructions must be followed. Paul’s reasoning precludes any arguments grounded in accidental social situations or upheaval of the natural order on account of Christ’s redemptive work. There is no time, place, or person to whom Paul’s instructions do not apply.

Paul’s reasoning is creational, not trinitarian. When Paul refers to God, it is the one God from whom all creatures originate. When Paul refers to Christ’s redemptive work of grace, it perfects nature while leaving its structural integrity in place. Thus, ERAS proponents fail to find a trinitarian argument for male and female duties and classical egalitarians are compelled to follow God’s prescribed pattern given in creation.

My third, and final, argument comes from John Gill who affirmed classical trinitarian theology and maintained complementarianism. Gill possessed an ability to navigate through a text of Scripture with a keen eye for the rich theology it contained. He also read the Bible theologically. He brought the grammar of the doctrine of God, the persons of the godhead, and the two natures of the Son to bear upon every text he read. Consider 1 Corinthians 11:3, which reads, “But I want you to understand that Christ is the head of every man, and the man is the head of a woman, and God is the head of Christ.” Commenting on this text, Gill writes:

“[God] that is, the father, not as to his divine nature, for in respect to that they are one: Christ, as God, is equal to his father, and is possessed of the same divine perfections with him; nor is his father the head of him, in that sense; but as to his human nature, which he formed, prepared, anointed, upheld, and glorified; and in which nature Christ exercised grace on him, he hoped in him, he believed and trusted in him, and loved him, and yielded obedience to him; he always did the things that pleased him in life; he prayed to him; he was obedient to him, even unto death, and committed his soul or spirit into his hands: and all this he did as to his superior, considered in the human nature, and also in his office-capacity as Mediator, who as such was his servant; and whose service he diligently and faithfully performed, and had the character from him of a righteous one; so that God is the head of Christ, as he is man and Mediator, and as such only.”[1]

Gill rightly accentuates Christ’s assumed human nature which is inferior to the same Son’s divine nature. The inferior human will of the Son submits to the superior divine will of the Father, which just is the Son’s divine will. Gill understands that submission entails two wills, one superior and one inferior, and acknowledges that the Son submitted to the Father by virtue of his human, rather than divine, will. According to Gill’s reasoning, ERAS proponents cannot properly read their theology into texts like 1 Corinthians 11:3.

But Gill also soundly rejects the faulty hermeneutics of classical egalitarians. He denied that women could teach in the public assembly on the Lord’s Day and argued that the usurpation of authority did not merely relate to the pulpit but was grounded in the duties of male and female found in creation. Commenting on 1 Timothy 2:12, he writes:

“Women are not to teach in the church; for that is an act of power and authority, and supposes the persons that teach to be of a superior degree, and in a superior office, and to have superior abilities to those who are taught by them: nor to usurp authority over the man; as not in civil and political things, or in things relating to civil government; and in things domestic, or the affairs of the family; so not in things ecclesiastical, or what relate to the church and government of it; for one part of rule is to feed the church with knowledge and understanding; and for a woman to take upon her to do this, is to usurp an authority over the man: this therefore she ought not to do, but to be in silence; to sit and hear quietly and silently, and learn, and not teach, as in ver. 11.”[2]

Gill rightly concludes that a woman teaching in the gathered assembly usurps the authority of a man, an authority manifested in multiple spheres of life. His commitment to classical trinitarian and Christological doctrines evident in his exegesis does not hinder his ability to rightly affirm male headship in the home, behind the pulpit, and in society. In this way, Gill provides a helpful path forward for Christians who wish to be classical and complementarian.

A commitment to classical trinitarian theology does not require one to abandon complementarianism. We encounter problems only when we assume that the Trinity either binds us to a blueprint for human relations or provides license for our social agenda. Scripture turns our eyes to the stable and sufficient guide for male and female duties. Men like John Gill help us see these truths. Christians ought to be classical and complementarian.

[1] John Gill, An Exposition of the New Testament, vol. 2, The Baptist Commentary Series (London: Mathews and Leigh, 1809), 683.

[2] John Gill, An Exposition of the New Testament, vol. 3, The Baptist Commentary Series (London: Mathews and Leigh, 1809), 286.

Traditionally, the church has defined the Trinity in a particular way: one nature, three persons. A nature refers to what something is, while a person refers to who someone is. But how do we define three uncreated persons who share the same nature? Historically, we have done so through what is known as “Personal Relations,” as discussed in our previous article.

However, modern voices have proposed a new way to define the persons—by authority and submission. This view is commonly referred to as EFS (Eternal Functional Subordination) or ERAS (Eternal Relations of Authority and Submission – Note: I will use these two terms interchangeably throughout the article). Advocates of this position sought to defend traditional gender roles in the church and home—specifically, roles of authority and submission—by rooting them in the relationships within the Trinity. In doing so, they argued that these roles reflect how mankind is made in the image of God. Many thoughtful articles have been written on this issue (here and here).

Some have largely ignored this debate, assuming it pertains to doctrines unrelated to the gospel. However, I contend that Trinitarian errors necessarily lead to Christological errors, which, in turn, have direct implications for the gospel.

Most evangelicals claim to uphold the gospel—but how deep does that commitment go? Among those who affirm the Eternal Relations of Authority and Submission (ERAS), a disturbing inconsistency arises: they cannot, with any coherence, confess ERAS while affirming the doctrine of Christ’s active obedience—a central component of the gospel. This isn’t a minor quibble; it’s a crack at the foundation of what it means to know and worship the God of Scripture. This may sound harsh, but as we’ll see below it is a necessary concern.

Historically, evangelicalism has stood on the shoulders of giants, uniting under creeds like the Apostles’ Creed, Nicene Creed (325, 381), and Athanasian Creeds, as well as the Chalcedonian Definition (451). These documents articulate the essentials of Christianity. Unfortunately, today, a “lowest common denominator” mentality has crept in—how little can one believe and still squeak by as “orthodox?” Is there any reason to affirm these historic creeds? The kind of mindset that would ask these questions is one that robs the church of its rich theological heritage and compromises its gospel clarity.

In one such example, the controversy surrounding ERAS (Eternal Relations of Authority and Submission)—already a decade old—has exposed how far we’ve strayed. The fact that time-tested trinitarian grammar has been set aside in favor of novel approaches to explaining the Trinity indicates a massive theological drift. Others may wonder, “Why does it even matter? Do we really need all this complicated language about eternal modes of origin, subsistent relations, simplicity, or partitive exegesis? Isn’t it enough to just believe in Jesus?” Such questions reveal a tragic ignorance. There was a time when believers bled and died to preserve a proper understanding of God. Today, many shrug off these “abstract” debates as distractions from the “real” issues.

But make no mistake: the Trinity is not an optional add-on to the gospel—it is the very heart of the gospel. As Jesus declared, “This is eternal life, that they may know You, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom You have sent” (John 17:3).

ERAS, as defined by its modern proponents, jeopardizes this knowledge. Its adherents walk a theological tightrope, their gospel being held together only by a gracious inconsistency. If we care about the salvation we proclaim, we cannot afford to compromise on this essential doctrine.

Against ERAS, there are three major points of contention that arise from a classical [or Reformed] perspective on the Trinity, Christology, and the gospel: 1) It undermines the authentic humanity of the Son. 2) It cannot properly define Christ’s law obedience. And 3) It misinterprets key texts regarding the Son.

In order to understand the relationship between God, Christ, and the Gospel, there are a few introductory doctrines we need to briefly visit.

The Virgin Birth and Authentic Humanity

The virgin birth, as recorded in Luke 1:35, establishes Christ’s humanity as truly human, yet miraculously conceived through the direct agency of the Triune God.

Authentic Humanity for Authentic Obedience

Christ’s obedience required an authentic human nature. Only as true man could He fulfill the positive demands of God’s law and endure its penal consequences. The Son’s incarnation, therefore, was not a passive submission but an active assumption of human nature, perfectly uniting the divine and human natures in His person. This ensures that His obedience, both active and passive, is fully efficacious for the salvation of sinners.

The incarnation’s theological precision is not an academic exercise but a vital safeguard for the gospel. By affirming the Son’s true humanity and the indivisible operations of the Trinity, we uphold the reality that salvation hinges on Christ’s obedience as the God-man—obedience made possible only by His authentic humanity.

The Son’s incarnation, was not a passive submission but an active assumption of human nature, perfectly uniting the divine and human natures in His person.

The Necessity of Christ’s Humanity

Hebrews 2:14 and 17 emphasize the importance of Christ’s authentic humanity: “He Himself likewise also partook of the same” and “He had to be made like His brethren in all things.” As man’s kinsman-redeemer, it was necessary that Christ share in the same nature as those He came to save. His humanity, derived from Mary, established both the natural and legal union required for Him to act as the federal head of His people. Without this authentic humanity, Christ could not merit justification or propitiation for sinners.

In summary, the hypostatic union safeguards the gospel by affirming both Christ’s true humanity and His divine identity. Only as the God-man could He mediate between God and man, fulfilling the law’s demands, defeating death, and accomplishing salvation. This profound union of natures underscores the necessity of a real, human obedience by the incarnate Son for the redemption of His people.

ERAS and the Will of the Son: A Theological Critique

Obedience as Divinity Undermines Humanity

If the Son’s obedience is understood as an act of His divinity, then the necessity of His humanity in fulfilling the law is undermined. According to the doctrine of the hypostatic union, Christ acts according to both natures—divine and human—based upon what is proper of each nature (Second London Baptist Confession of Faith, 8.7). If Christ obeyed the Father solely as God, then His human nature did not participate in the obedience required under the law, violating the biblical teaching that Christ was “born of a woman, born under the Law” (Gal. 4:4).

Furthermore, affirming that Christ’s obedience occurs in His divinity alone risks the error of conflating the natures or making them interchangeable. Such a position collapses the distinct properties of each nature and contradicts orthodox Christology, which carefully distinguishes between Christ’s divine and human actions. As the Confession emphasizes, “Christ, in the work of mediation, acts according to both natures, by each nature doing that which is proper to itself” (2LBCF 8.7)

An Aspect of Human Nature is Not Assumed

What Kind of Human Doesn’t Have a Will?

To suggest that the Son lacked a human will is to deny a fundamental aspect of human nature. Have you ever met a human that does not have a will? Could you even call such a thing an authentic human? Scripture portrays Christ’s human will in His submission to the Father, as seen in His prayer at Gethsemane: “Not my will, but Yours be done” (Luke 22:42). This passage demonstrates the distinct and obedient operation of Christ’s human will, fully submitted to the divine will of the Father. Without a human will, Christ would not have been truly human, which directly contradicts the Chalcedonian definition of Christ’s two complete natures united in one person.

That Which is Not Assumed is Not Redeemed

Gregory of Nazianzus famously stated,

“For that which He has not assumed He has not healed; but that which is united to His Godhead is also saved. If only half Adam fell, then that which Christ assumes and saves may be half also; but if the whole of his nature fell, it must be united to the whole nature of Him that was begotten, and so be saved as a whole.”[1]

This statement underscores the necessity of Christ assuming all aspects of human nature—including a human will—for the sake of redemption. If Christ did not assume a human will, then His obedience would not address the human condition in its entirety. At its most basic level, humanity’s rebellion against God involves the misuse of the human will. Thus, Christ’s obedience must include the proper exercise of a human will to redeem fallen humanity comprehensively. He must possess a human will so that His substitution, on behalf of those with sinful human wills, is complete.

The Necessity of the Incarnation for Obedience and Redemption

If Christ’s obedience is according to His divinity alone, the incarnation becomes superfluous for fulfilling the law’s demands. The purpose of the incarnation was to provide a true human mediator who could bear the law’s requirements and its curse on behalf of humanity (Gal. 3:13). A solely divine obedience cannot fulfill the law’s demands for human obedience, which require a true human representative under the law.

By locating will in the person rather than the nature, proponents of ERAS not only undermine orthodox Christology but also risk a deficient understanding of the incarnation’s relevance to salvation.

Christ’s role as the federal head of redeemed humanity (Rom. 5:18–19) necessitates that His obedience to the moral law be truly and fully human. For obedience to fulfill the requirements of God’s law, it must come from a human agent under that law. As Paul writes in Galatians 4:4, Christ was “born of a woman, born under the law.” This establishes His relationship to the moral law as one of obligation, certainly not as God, but as a man standing in the place of humanity. Peter Abelard (1079–1142) once observed, “When God made His Son man, He merely set Him under the law which He had given in common to all man.”[2] As God, Christ is the legislator, and as man, Christ was legally responsible.

The Son’s Relationship to the Moral Law as a Human Mediator

Christ’s Relationship to the Law as the Second Adam

Paul’s contrast between Adam and Christ in Romans 5:12–21 hinges on Christ’s role as the Second Adam, who succeeded where the first Adam failed. Adam’s failure was a human failure under the moral law, and thus redemption required a human success under the same law. The Son’s obedience as a man is necessary to establish the righteousness required for humanity’s justification.

Christ’s obedience must include the proper exercise of a human will to redeem fallen humanity comprehensively.

Under ERAS, the focus on the Son’s eternal submission risks introducing a hierarchical view of the Trinity that diminishes the distinct and necessary role of Christ’s human obedience under the law. By overemphasizing eternal submission, ERAS shifts the theological focus away from Christ’s incarnate role as the Second Adam, which is central to the gospel.

Misdefining Human Obedience and the Incarnation’s Purpose

The incarnation was not merely about the Son demonstrating submission to the Father; it was about the Son assuming humanity to fulfill the law’s demands as a human being. Human obedience to God’s law involves the exercise of a human will, informed by human experience, and executed within the constraints of human nature. This is precisely what Christ demonstrated during His earthly life, particularly in His active obedience (e.g., His perfect love for God and neighbor) and passive obedience (e.g., His submission to death on the cross).

Biblical Critique: Misinterpreting Texts Pertaining to the Son’s Humanity

Misapplication of Key Texts to Christ’s Divinity

Many biblical texts that affirm Christ’s obedience to God’s law are often mistakenly understood as referring to His divinity rather than His humanity by those who ascribe to ERAS. This misinterpretation undermines the soteriological significance of these texts by detaching them from the human obedience necessary for salvation. For example, Philippians 2:8 states that Christ “humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.” This obedience, as the context makes clear, pertains to Christ’s incarnate humility, His taking on the form of a servant (Phil. 2:7), and His fulfilling the law as a man under its demands (Gal. 4:4).

To interpret such texts as referring to the Son’s divine nature or eternal submission within the Trinity distorts their meaning. Divine obedience is not subject to human requirements under the law. Instead, the Son’s obedience in these texts is an act of His incarnate humanity, wherein He fulfills the covenantal obligations necessary for redeeming His people.

When passages like John 4:34 (“My food is to do the will of Him who sent Me”) or Hebrews 10:7 (“I have come to do Your will, O God”) are framed primarily as divine submission within the Godhead, their soteriological significance is diminished. These verses, rightly understood, highlight the Son’s human obedience to the Father’s will in the economy of salvation, a necessary condition for His role as the federal head and mediator.

Obedience as Soteriologically Necessary for Humanity

If Christ’s obedience is interpreted primarily as a function of His divinity, it ceases to carry the soteriological weight necessary for humanity’s redemption. The moral law is not binding on God in His divine essence but is binding on humanity. Thus, for Christ to fulfill the law on behalf of His people, He had to do so as a man.

This is the heart of the gospel: that Christ’s obedience and righteousness as a man are imputed to believers for their justification. Romans 5:19 makes this explicit: “For as through the one man’s disobedience the many were made sinners, even so through the obedience of the One the many will be made righteous.” This obedience is clearly a reference to Christ’s human obedience as the Second Adam. Misinterpreting such texts as divine obedience undermines their direct application to salvation and justification.

Furthermore, Hebrews 5:8–9 states, “Although He was a Son, He learned obedience from the things which He suffered. And having been made perfect, He became to all those who obey Him the source of eternal salvation.” This learning and suffering are exclusive to Christ’s human experience; divinity cannot “learn” obedience or suffer. To attribute this obedience to the Son’s divine nature strips these verses of their salvific relevance by disconnecting them from Christ’s incarnate, lived obedience.

The Danger of Negating the Soteriological Relevance of Christ’s Humanity

Interpreting texts about Christ’s obedience as divine submission within the Trinity also risks undermining the distinct role of Christ’s human nature in the work of salvation. It is the obedience of Christ as the God-man—fully God and fully human—that satisfies God’s covenantal requirements. Without His perfect human obedience, there is no basis for the imputation of righteousness to believers.

Such misinterpretations often lead to theological distortions, such as a diminished view of imputed righteousness or a misunderstanding of the necessity of the incarnation. If Christ’s obedience is seen as an eternal divine act rather than a temporal, incarnate act, His redemptive work is abstracted from its biblical and covenantal context, leading to a theology that fails to account for the depth and breadth of His mediatorial work.

If Christ’s obedience is interpreted primarily as a function of His divinity, it ceases to carry the soteriological weight necessary for humanity’s redemption.

Misinterpreting texts about Christ’s obedience as referring to His divinity rather than His humanity severs their soteriological relevance. Redemption required a human fulfillment of God’s requirements, which Christ achieved in His incarnation. To relegate these acts of obedience to divine submission within the Trinity not only misreads the texts but also undermines the gospel itself. A proper understanding of these passages affirms that Christ, as the God-man, fulfilled the law’s demands as a human being on behalf of His people, securing their justification and salvation.

The doctrine of ERAS does not merely flirt with error—it strikes at the very heart of Christian theology. The stakes could not be higher: To adopt ERAS is to compromise the doctrine of God, fracture the unity of Christ’s person, and distort the gospel itself.

Compromising the Doctrine of God

ERAS undermines the orthodox understanding of the Trinity, introducing a hierarchy of authority and submission that collapses the eternal unity and equality of the divine persons. Scripture and historic confessions affirm that the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are coequal in power, glory, and essence, inseparably united in will and action (2LBC, 2.3). Yet ERAS unravels this harmony, subordinating the Son eternally to the Father. This is an attack on the very nature of God. A God divided by hierarchy within Himself—either ontologically or “functionally”—is not the God of the Bible but an idol fashioned by human speculation. To accept such a distortion is to forsake the triune God confessed by the church through the centuries.

Fracturing the Unity of Christ

The implications of ERAS for the person of Christ are catastrophic. If the Son obeys according to His divinity, then His humanity is rendered unnecessary or incomplete. This mutilates the hypostatic union, creating a Christ who is neither truly God nor truly man in the way that Scripture testifies. In short, it denies the central tenet of the incarnation: that the Son assumed a complete human nature, including a human will, to fulfill the law and redeem fallen humanity.

Distorting the Gospel

ERAS distorts the soteriological relevance of Christ’s life and obedience, misinterpreting key biblical texts as acts of divine submission rather than human fulfillment of the law. This diminishes the significance of Christ’s active obedience as a man, which is the very basis for the imputation of righteousness to believers. If Christ’s obedience is primarily a function of His divine nature, then His human obedience becomes irrelevant, and the entire gospel collapses. Salvation is rooted in the obedient life, death, and resurrection of Christ as the God-man. To undermine His human obedience is to undermine the entire structure of justification, reconciliation, and redemption.

No Room for Compromise

ERAS is not a harmless theological curiosity; it is a Trojan horse carrying heretical implications that threaten the foundations of our faith. The integrity of the Trinity, the person of Christ, and the gospel itself are at stake.

The church must reject ERAS with the same vigor and conviction with which it has opposed Arianism, Nestorianism, and other errors throughout history. To tolerate ERAS is to place ourselves on the precipice of doctrinal ruin, inviting confusion and division into the body of Christ. As stewards of the truth, we can give no quarter to a doctrine that compromises the glory of the Triune God, fractures the person of Christ, and leaves sinners without a sufficient Savior.

ERAS must be named for what it is: a distortion of the faith once for all delivered to the saints. The church must stand firm, reject it unequivocally, and proclaim the truth of God’s Word with clarity and boldness. Let us not waver in this task, for the honor of God and the hope of the gospel are at stake.

[1] Gregory of Nazianzus, Letters of Saint Gregory Nazianzen, “To Cledonius the Priest Against Apollinarius,” NPNF2, trans., Charles Gordon Browne and James Edward Swallow, ed., Philip Schaff and Henry Wace (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson Publishers, 2004), 7:440.

[2] Found in: à Brakel, The Christian’s Reasonable Service, 1:355.

The Chalcedonian Definition of 451 has been the touchstone of orthodox Christology for the past millennium and a half. In this definition was found the resolution to the complex Christological debates of the fourth and fifth centuries. Here, Scripture’s teaching of the hypostatic union was codified for the church: the incarnate Christ is one divine person who subsists in two distinct yet united natures, divine and human. He is not two persons, as the Nestorians taught, but rather “one Person and one Subsistence, not parted or divided into two persons, but one and the same Son.” Nor does He subsist in only one nature, a divine-human hybrid, as the Monophysites taught, but rather is to be “acknowledged in two natures inconfusedly [and] unchangeably… the difference of the natures being in no way removed because of the union, but rather the properties of each nature being preserved.” One person, two natures. This is the doctrine of the hypostatic union, a cardinal doctrine of the Christian faith.

But as brilliant as the Chalcedonian definition was, it did not answer every question that was to arise in the succeeding decades. In the late sixth and early seventh centuries, a debate arose over whether Christ had one will or two. Sure, He had two natures, one divine and one human. But did that mean He had two wills, one divine and one human? Or, since He was one divine person, did He have just one divine will?

The Monothelite Controversy

This debate has been dubbed “the Monothelite controversy.” Those who taught that Christ had only one divine will were called Monothelites (monos, “one,” thelēma, “will”), and those who taught that He had two wills—one divine and one human—were called Dyothelites (duo, “two,” thelēma, “will”).

The disagreement basically boiled down to whether the faculty of will is a property of a person or a nature. If the faculty of will were a property of a person and not a nature, we would expect Christ, who is one person, to have only one will. But if the faculty of will were a property of a nature and not a person, we would expect Christ, who has two natures, to have two wills. So which is it? Does will belong with person or nature? Does the incarnate Christ have one will or two?

The debate was hashed out in earnest in the events leading up to the Third Council of Constantinople in 680 and 681, when 164 bishops convened to decide the matter. The Monothelite cause was taken up by Macarius I of Antioch, but the majority of the bishops agreed with the writings of Maximus the Confessor of Constantinople (ca. 580–662), a learned monk who argued vociferously for a Dyothelite Christology. The Sixth Ecumenical Council concluded that Christ had to have both a divine will and a human will. Monothelitism was condemned as a heresy leading to Monophysitism, Macarius was deposed, and Dyothelitism was codified as orthodox Christology.

Only a Human Will?

But what was the case against Monothelitism? Well, in the first place, if the incarnate Christ had only one will, which will did He have, and which did He lack? On the one hand, you could argue that part of becoming truly human required the Son to have a human will, and if He could only have one will, then it must have been the divine will that He lacked.

But this raises a number of problems. If Christ, being one person, has only one will, then will must be a property of person rather than nature. This would mean that, from eternity, the Son, being a divine person, had a divine will—up until the incarnation, that is. For when the Word became flesh and took on a human will, He would have had to shed the divine will that He possessed from all eternity. This would be to predicate genuine change in the Second Person of the Trinity, undermining divine immutability. He would have transmuted from (a) a divine person with a divine will to (b) a human person with a human will.

But of course Christ did not become a human person (anhypostasis), as even the Monothelites stipulated. He was a divine person who assumed a human nature into personal union with His divine nature. For this reason, it has not been argued that Christ’s one will was human.

Only a Divine Will?

Well, if the incarnate Christ had only one will, and it wasn’t a human will, it must have been a divine will. This is what the Monothelites argued. The eternal Son was a divine person, and thus had a divine will from all eternity. When He assumed a human nature in the incarnation, He remained a single divine person and thus retained a single divine will. But because (they argued) will is a property of person and not nature, the incarnate Christ did not have a human will.

But does the Bible support that claim? There are at least four reasons to answer in the negative. Monothelite Christology is fatal to Chalcedonian orthodoxy, fatal to the doctrine of the Trinity, fatal to the humanity of Christ, and fatal to the Gospel itself.

Fatal to Chalcedonian Orthodoxy

The first problem with Monothelitism is that it is fatal to Chalcedonian orthodoxy, which is a biblically faithful synthesis of scriptural teaching concerning the person of Christ.

Recall that the crux of this debate is whether the faculty of will is a property of person or nature. If will belongs to person, and Christ is one person, then Christ can have only one will. If will belongs to nature, and Christ has two natures, then Christ must have two wills. Interestingly, Chalcedon weighs in on this question, and in so doing it commends Dyothelitism.

The Definition says that Christ assumed a human nature in order to be “perfect in manhood,” “truly man,” and “consubstantial [i.e., of the same nature] with us according to the manhood.” Then, it defines the human nature Christ assumed by saying He was “of a rational soul and body.” According to Chalcedon, a human nature is a rational soul and body.

But it is virtually universally acknowledged that the will is a faculty of the human soul, alongside the intellect. A rational soul is equipped with (a) a mind that interprets and understands the world and (b) a will that makes choices informed by that understanding. This means that Christ’s human soul is that by which He thinks, understands, and makes choices. The faculty of the will is located in the rational soul, which Chalcedon says was part of that human nature that the Son assumed to be consubstantial with us.

In other words, Chalcedon locates the will in the soul, and it locates the soul in the nature, not the person.[1] Since will is a property of nature, and Christ subsists in two natures, Chalcedon constrains us to a Dyothelite Christology. In Chalcedonian terms, Monothelitism is inherently monophysitic, because one will implies one nature.[2]

Fatal to the Trinity

Second, Monothelitism is fatal to the doctrine of the Trinity. In the first place, it runs afoul of an essential maxim that was universally accepted in early orthodox Trinitarianism: the doctrine of inseparable operations.

Versions of the phrase opera Trinitatis ad extra indivisa sunt (“the external works of the Trinity are undivided/indivisible”), along with its Greek counterpart, appear throughout the writings of such pro-Nicene fathers as Athanasius, Gregory of Nyssa, and Augustine. It means that the acts of the Triune God cannot be divided up among the three persons, but that each divine person performs each divine act.[3] Just as God’s nature is indivisible, so also His acts are indivisible.

This reasoning assumes that a person’s nature is the principle by which he acts. Whatever works a person performs, he does so by virtue of the nature in which he subsists. So, Christ sleeps by virtue of His human nature (Matt 8:24; cf. Ps 121:4), but calms the storm by virtue of His divine nature (Matt 8:26; cf. Job 38:8). In other words, the doctrine of inseparable operations is rooted in the notion that a person’s acts—which would include acts of his will—are a function of his nature.

In this way, pro-Nicene trinitarianism locates the will in nature rather than person, consistent with Dyothelitism. But if, as the Monothelites contend, will were a property of person rather than nature, then the external acts of the Trinity could be divided among the three persons, conceived as three separate centers of consciousness with three separate wills. When worked out consistently, the metaphysics of Monothelitism undermines a fundamental staple of orthodox trinitarianism.

If Jesus cannot make the human choice to withstand temptation and choose obedience to His Father, He is not truly human.

Further, Monothelitism strikes at trinitarian unity in another way. In Matthew 26:39, Jesus famously prays that the cup of the Father’s wrath might pass from Him. “Yet,” He says, “not as I will, but as You will.” Though this statement is fraught with mystery, pro-Chalcedonian Christology teaches that this was an instance in which Jesus submitted His human will (which righteously recoiled from an uninhibited sprint into the wrath of God) to the divine will. According to His holy humanity, there is some righteous backwardness that the Son feels when contemplating the punishment of the cross. But such hesitation is quickly remedied by submitting His human will to the divine will (the will shared by Father, Son, and Spirit).

But according to Monothelitism, Jesus had no human will. He must therefore be speaking of subjecting His distinct divine will to the Father’s distinct divine will. Even if we grant, for the sake of argument, that these are distinct faculties of willing (by treating will as a property of personhood), could it be even theoretically possible for there to be a distinction in what the divine Son wants and what the divine Father wants? How can it be possible for two divine persons to will contrary to one another? On a Monothelite reading of Matthew 26:39, it seems impossible to avoid positing a fatal disruption between the person of the Father and the person of the Son.

Fatal to the Humanity of Christ

A third problem with Monothelitism is that it is fatal to the genuine humanity of Christ. If Christ didn’t assume a human will in His incarnation, it seems difficult to argue convincingly that Christ was and is truly human. To put it simply, genuine humans make human choices by virtue of their human wills! To be bereft of a human faculty of willing is to be deprived of the capacity to make genuinely human choices. Without that capacity, it would seem that our Savior would be decidedly unlike us in a most significant way.

Specifically, the absence of a distinct human will seems clearly to run afoul of the notion that Jesus endured genuine temptation (e.g., Matt 4:1–11). James 1:13 teaches that God by definition cannot be tempted, and so Jesus could not have been tempted by virtue of anything of His divinity. At the same time, the nature of temptation is a proposal to the will that it should consent to sin. Jesus connects temptation to the will when He counsels His sleeping disciples to pray that they may not enter into temptation, for though their spirit is willing their flesh is weak (Matt 26:41). Temptation is a proposal to the will, and one succumbs to temptation by choosing sin rather than obedience.

Now, if Jesus could not be tempted by virtue of His deity (Jas 1:13), He could only be tempted by virtue of His humanity. But if temptation is a proposal to the will that it should choose sin, then Jesus must have had a human will to which temptation proposed sin. Only in this way could He be our sympathetic high priest “who has been tempted in all things as we are, yet without sin” (Heb 4:15).[4]

If Jesus cannot make the human choice to withstand temptation and choose obedience to His Father, He is not truly human. And since temptation is a proposal to the will to choose disobedience, He had to have had a human will. The alternative is fatal to His genuine humanity. To be truly human, Jesus must have a human will.

Fatal to the Gospel

And that is intimately related to the fourth problem with Monothelitism: it is fatal to the Gospel itself, for if Christ was not Himself truly human, He could not be the Mediator between God and men. Apart from Christ’s genuine humanity, the sons of Adam are left to cry with Job, “He is not a man as I am that I may answer Him, that we may go to court together. There is no umpire between us, who may lay his hand upon us both” (Job 9:32–33).

Maximus the Confessor famously argued this point by appealing to another well-known trinitarian maxim from the fourth century, this one from the pen of Gregory of Nazianzus (329–390). In defending the full humanity of Christ against the Apollinarians, who claimed that Christ assumed only a human body but not a human soul, Gregory famously argued, “That which is not assumed is not healed.”

That is to say, Christ is our Savior by His substitutionary saving work. He saves us first of all by taking on a full and true human nature (Phil 2:7), so that He is genuinely “consubstantial with us according to the manhood,” able to stand in man’s place as a genuine man, representing us in every way (1 Tim 2:5). If there were an aspect of humanity that Christ failed to assume to Himself, then that aspect could not be healed by His substitutionary saving work. If Christ was to heal the human will (along with the rest of human nature), he had to have assumed a human will in His incarnation.

Besides, the whole point of the incarnation was that our penalty had to be paid by a true man. Without a human will, Jesus lacks something that is constitutive of our nature, and is thus disqualified from standing in our place.

Still further, our Savior must not only satisfy the penal demands of the law by dying on behalf of sinners. He must also satisfy the positive demands of the law by obeying on behalf of sinners (Matt 3:15; 5:20; Gal 4:4–6). Jesus is the Last Adam (Rom 5:14; 1 Cor 15:45), come to succeed precisely where the first Adam had failed (1 Cor 15:21–22; cf. Luke 4:1–13). His obedience to the law of God would be the substance of the righteousness credited to those who believe (Rom 5:18–19; cf. 4:3–6; 2 Cor 5:21).

But that obedience had to be the obedience of a genuine man. If Christ, the Last Adam, cannot choose—as a man—to walk in obedience to God’s law, precisely in the way the first Adam failed, then He cannotstand in our place as our Substitute and accomplish our justification as our federal head.[5] And He cannot make that choice as a man without a human will. Wellum is right when he says, “It is only by affirming that Christ has a human will that we can do justice to the obedience of the Son as a man which is so foundational to Christ’s work for us.”[6]

A Biblical Doctrine

It’s often said or implied that such a doctrine, while historically well-attested and theologically necessary, lacks textual foundation. But that is not so. Scripture speaks of Jesus’ human will when it speaks of Him willing (θέλω) to do things that are not proper to deity, like moving from one location to another (John 1:43), drinking or not (Matt 27:34), or obeying (Mark 14:12; Phil 2:8). Scripture speaks of Jesus’ divine will, for example, in Matthew 23:37, when He says He often wanted to gather the children of Jerusalem throughout her history of killing her prophets and stoning God’s messengers. He identifies Himself as the patient God who desired (θέλω), long before His incarnation, to deliver His people.

If Christ was to heal the human will, he had to have assumed a human will in His incarnation.

Another example of Christ’s divine will is seen in John 5:21, where Jesus grounds His equality with the Father (5:18) in their inseparable operations (5:19). In verse 21, He says that one of those divine works which He shares with the Father is giving spiritual life—a prerogative of deity—“to whom He wills.”

It is true, as has been shown, that if you deny Dyothelitism, you cannot consistently maintain a Chalcedonian Christology or Nicene Trinitarianism, you undermine the genuine humanity of Christ by suggesting He lacks a human will, and thus you undermine the Gospel which is founded upon representative substitution. But it is also true that Dyothelitism is a biblical doctrine.

Conclusion

Therefore, what at first may seem like an arcane dispute about meaningless doctrinal minutia is revealed to be fundamental to the humanity of our Mediator and thus the ground of all our hope. The Third Council of Constantinople concluded the same and condemned Monothelitism, establishing Dyothelitism as the orthodox teaching of the church. The faculty of will is a property of nature, not person. And since the one man, Christ Jesus, subsists in both divine and human natures, He has two wills: divine and human. It was by virtue of His human will that He made human choices—choices to resist temptation, to obey God’s law in the place of sinners, and to bear the curse of God’s law in the place of those same sinners.

Notably, Dyothelitism also relates quite closely to a contemporary controversy in the evangelical church: the EFS/ERAS debate. Since (a) the Godhead is three persons subsisting in one divine nature, and since (b) will is a property of nature and not person, therefore, (c) there are not three faculties of will in God by virtue of the three persons, but one faculty of will in God by virtue of the one divine nature.

Consubstantial with one another, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit exercise volitions by virtue of the identical faculty of willing. Since the single divine will cannot be “subjected” or “subordinated” to itself, there can be no eternal functional subordination or eternal relations of authority and submission within the Trinity.

[1] Interestingly, Wellum notes, “In the Patristic era, the word-flesh Christologies of Arius, Apollinarius, et al., also identified ‘person’ with ‘soul,’ ‘will,’ ‘mind,’ which orthodoxy rejected” (God the Son Incarnate, 338n101). If Chalcedon located will in the nature, while Arius and Apollinarius located will in the person, it’s difficult to avoid the conclusion that locating the will in the person is heretical.

[2] Besides this, I’d argue that most Christians implicitly know that will is a property of nature and not person. When we engage in the debate over the bondage and freedom of the will and man’s depravity, we explain the reality that, apart from regenerating grace, though man’s will is free to make choices, it is not free not to choose rightly. Man is not an automaton unable to choose between alternatives, but he is depraved, unable to choose righteousness. He has a will, but his will is bound to act in accordance with his nature.

[3] For example, the Father creates (1 Cor 8:6), the Son creates (Col 1:16), and the Spirit creates (Gen 1:2; Ps 33:6), but there is only one act of creating and thus only one cosmos created.

[4] Note, this is not to suggest either (a) that Jesus was peccable (He was not, John 5:19), or (b) that Jesus was tempted internally (He was only tempted externally, John 14:30; cf. Matt 4:1–11; Jas 1:14).

[5] Wellum, God the Son Incarnate, 348.

[6] Ibid., 346–47, emphasis original.

The Importance of Confessing One Will in God

The inspired creedal imperative, “Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one!” is not merely an appeal to ethical monism—meaning that we Christians are to worship the one true God alone. The oneness of God in Deuteronomy 6:4 speaks to the metaphysical reality that separates or distinguishes Him from idols and the false gods of the nations: His simplicity. The Second London Confession of Faith elucidates this notion of God’s simplicity by writing, “The Lord our God is but one… without body, parts, or passions.” However, before we can understand what it means for God to be one or simple, we must first understand what it means to be a creature.

Creatures are composed of what we are (i.e., an essence) and that we are (i.e., our existence). However, the dilemma is that creatures cannot be the cause of their existence, for no essence can precede and be the cause of its existence (e.g., Lily did not bring herself into existence). Consequently, the cause of creaturely existence must be found outside the domain of creation, and its existence must not be caused—it must be the fount of existence. If one were to turn to philosophical demonstration to discover such a cause, one could postulate the existence of an uncaused transcending cause of all things whose existence is of itself (i.e., self-subsisting being). But of more sure footing for the believer, Scripture reveals that this simple or non-composed Creator, whose existence is from Himself and not another, is the One whom Exodus 3:14 calls “I AM WHO I AM.” Or, as illustrated in the burning bush, it is I AM whose fire or existence does not depend on another but whose life burns from Himself.

Turning our attention to God’s will, its relevancy when considering His oneness lies in preserving monotheism. To highlight this concern, we must consider what establishes the ability to will. Put into question form: “What provides a person with the power to will compared to an inanimate creature like a rock?” The simple answer is its nature. A creature’s nature determines what powers it can exercise. For instance, a bird’s nature gives rise to the possibility of flying, unlike a human’s nature. Similarly, a creature possesses the ability to will if its nature provides the capacity of said power.

When considering the philosophical and historical articulation of the will, it has typically been distinguished between the sensible (or lower) appetite and the intellectual (or higher) appetite. The sensible will desires goods based on sensory perception (sight, hearing, taste, touch, etc.). For example, it is good for the nature of an animal to eat; thus, when said good is presented to it via the senses, the will is aroused and motivates the animal to pursue it.

In contrast, although man possesses these same sensible desires of the will as some other creatures, he also exercises dominion over these sensible desires by a higher power of the soul that distinguishes him from the rest of creation: reason. In other words, although all things are created in the likeness of God—because effects in some way reflect their cause—Scripture asserts that man is created in the image and likeness of God (Gen. 1:27), and what makes man in God’s image is his power or capacity to reason (i.e., the intellect). Consequently, for man, it is the intellect that guides the will. One could even say that every person has the power to will because every person possesses the power of intellect, which is able to perceive things as good in themselves, and, in turn, the will is drawn out to possess and rest in those goods.

Scripture asserts that man is created in the image and likeness of God, and what makes man in God’s image is his power or capacity to reason.

Furthermore, the intellect can distinguish between lesser and higher goods and choose the higher, although it may cause harm or difficulty. The preeminent example of man deferring the lower will’s desire for a greater good was our Lord when He cried out in the garden of Gethsemane, “Father, if it is Your will, take this cup away from Me; nevertheless, not My will, but Yours, be done” (Verse reference). For our Lord, it was a good to preserve life, but it was a greater good to obey the will of His Father.

Correspondingly, because God is an intellectual Being, this entails that He, too, possesses a will. In simpler terms, it is the nature of divinity to will. However, this does not entail that God wills as man does: that some outside good moves His will. If this were so, God would be susceptible to passions and mutability as man, thus consigning Him to the order of creaturely being as its chief Being. Moreover, neither can we say that God’s will is a property of divinity, as it is a property that a person exercises; instead, following the maxim that “all that is in God is God,” so, too, is God’s will one with His essence.

At this juncture, we arrive at a difficulty after contrasting God’s will with the creature’s will. Specifically, how do we reconcile God’s one will with the three divine persons? Or we could ask: “Does experience not testify that each person has their own will; hence, should not each divine person also?” To answer, we must first consider how each human person possesses their own will because each is an individuated instance of humanity: human nature, not personhood, gives rise to the power to will. However, this metaphysical sequence breaks down for the divine persons because each divine person is not a separate individuated instance of divinity. Instead, “A divine person is nothing but the divine essence . . . subsisting in an especial manner.”[1] In other words, the Father is the principle or fount of divinity as the unbegotten One; the Son’s divinity is from the Father as His begotten Word; and the Spirit’s divinity is from the Father and Son as Love proceeding. Therefore, because each person possesses the entirety of the divine essence according to their particular manner of subsistence, each divine person also possesses the one will of God.

If one were to deny that each divine person possesses the one divine will according to their particular manner of subsistence by positing multiple wills in God (i.e., one will for each divine person), then what one would run the risk of is seriously undermining their commitment to monotheism. The reason is that, as shown above, the ability to will is rooted in nature. Hence, if there are multiple wills in God, this would metaphysically entail that there must be multiple natures. Consequently, if there are multiple natures because there are multiple wills, the best one could then conceive the Trinity as is a society of “Gods” in unison or bound by some overarching principle. However, Christians do not believe the Lord to be one in unison of wills as a society of divine persons. Instead, we confess God to be one in Being and will, with each divine person possessing the one divine nature and will according to their particular manner of subsistence.

In conclusion, the consideration of the one will of God is a notion that safeguards Christians from practically inferring polytheism. Moreover, it is the one will of God that we can find our rest in because God is not like man that He should change His mind. In other words, because God’s will is one with His essence, this entails that the very divine will that chose us, that redeemed us by sending God the Son to die for sinners such as us, and that promises to present us before Himself as holy and blameless in glory, is a will that cannot change. Therefore, with this blessed assurance that God’s will for our salvation lies in His immutable nature, we can confidently strive on our journey to Zion above to follow our Lord’s words and example, “Not My will, but Yours, be done” (Luke 22:42).

[1] John Owen, Communion with the Triune God (Carlisle, PA: The Banner of Truth Trust, 2009), 2:407.

“You just had to be there!”

We fall back on this excuse when words fail to capture the precise reality of an experience—often a comedic interaction or visual beauty. The reality is that reality itself is often hard to describe. We do our best to describe it with words, but we’ve all experienced the frustration of falling short.

This is especially true when we use our words to describe God. Herman Bavinck asks, “The moment we dare to speak about God the question arises: How can we?”[1] The same question can be asked of the person of Christ: When we dare to speak about the One who is both infinite God and finite man, how can we?

Scripture tells us Jesus slept, ate, walked, and learned new things. But it also tells us He created the universe, sustains it, and is omniscient. You can see the dilemma—how do we accurately describe Jesus when He has these seemingly contradictory categories?

We can navigate this difficulty through a practice known as partitive exegesis. Partitive exegesis presupposes that Christ’s two natures are unified in His person without confusion, change, division, or separation. Therefore, we must recognize and maintain the distinction between Christ’s two natures when we read the Bible.[2] While that may sound complicated, this practice arises from Scripture itself—it is an inspired way of describing the reality of the incarnation.

A Biblical Pattern

As we read through the New Testament, we see passages variously emphasize attributes of both Christ’s humanity and His divinity. Consider these five ways that the Bible makes statements about Christ.

1. When Jesus said, “Before Abraham was, I am,” the person is the subject, but the attribute (eternality) is only appropriate for the divine nature (John 8:58).

2. When Jesus said, “I thirst,” the person is the subject, but thirst is only appropriate for the human nature (John 19:28).

3. Titles like “Redeemer” or “King” are applied to Christ and is appropriate for both natures (Psalm 10:16; Luke 1:32–33).

So far, so good. But Scripture also contains more complicated statements about Christ.

4. Some things are ascribed to Christ that are appropriate to the human nature but predicated on Christ as divine. In Revelation 1:17–18, Christ identifies Himself as “the first and the last” (a divine title), then He says He “was dead” (something only possible for a human). A human quality (death) is applied to the person even though the Son as God is emphasized in this passage.

5. On the other hand, some things are ascribed to Christ that are appropriate to the divine nature but predicated on Christ as human. John 6:62 refers to “the Son of Man ascending to where He was before.” “Son of Man” emphasizes Christ’s humanity, but ascending to “where He was before” can only be truly said of Christ as divine.[3]

In each of these instances, Scripture applies a property true of one or both natures to the person. It is our job as interpreters to discern which attributes are appropriate for each nature.

While some people may object that we read too strong of a distinction between the natures, the Bible itself uses this logic as well. Romans 1:3 says that Christ “was born of a descendant of David according to the flesh.” Christ is not descended from David according to the divinity. This is logically obvious, but Paul makes it verbally explicit. [4]

Partitive exegesis is an attempt to apply this same inspired logic to every biblical statement about Christ. Some things are true of Christ according to His humanity and some things are true of Christ according to His divinity.

This way of thinking was worked out in the early church. As Chalcedon states, “The distinction of natures being by no means taken away by the union, but rather the property of each nature being preserved, and concurring in one Person.” Because the two natures are unified in the person of Christ, anything said of either nature is true of the person (“concurring in one Person”) while remaining untrue of the other nature (“the property of each nature being preserved”).

Yet, some confusion may arise in light of examples 4–5 above. How do we interpret those verses that apply the property of one nature to the other?

The Communication of Properties

The properties of both natures are predicated on the person. However, because both natures are united in the one person, Scripture seemingly attributes properties of one nature to the other. This biblical way of speaking has become known as the “communication of idioms” or “communication of properties.”

This is described in the 1689 London Baptist Confession, 8.7: “Christ, in the work of mediation, acts according to both natures, by each nature doing that which is proper to itself; yet by reason of the unity of the person, that which is proper to one nature is sometimes in Scripture, attributed to the person denominated by the other nature.”

Consider these verses:

Acts 20:28, “Be on guard for yourselves and for all the flock, among which the Holy Spirit has made you overseers, to shepherd the church of God which He purchased with His own blood.”

1 Corinthians 2:8, “The wisdom which none of the rulers of this age has understood; for if they had understood it they would not have crucified the Lord of glory.”

Zechariah 12:10, [Yahweh says] “I will pour out on the house of David and on the inhabitants of Jerusalem, the Spirit of grace and of supplication, so that they will look on Me whom they have pierced; and they will mourn for Him, as one mourns for an only son, and they will weep bitterly over Him like the bitter weeping over a firstborn.”

In each example, something human (blood, crucifixion, and death) is predicated of divinity (God, the Lord of Glory, and Yahweh). Does God, who is spirit (John 4:24) have blood? Can the Lord, who has life in Himself (John 5:26), be crucified? Can Yahweh be “pierced?”

The only way any of these statements can be true is if they refer to a single person who is both God and man. Concerning biblical passages like the ones listed above, Theodore Beza explains,

In the first place, these statements are made by means of the communication of individual properties, which truly does not exist. For if it were really true—that is, if the properties of the divine nature in actual fact belonged to the human nature, or vice versa—there would be no union, but a confusion. But it is put like this so that the unity of the person might be understood.[5]

When Beza says the statements like those from Acts 20:28 are not “really true,” he means that they are attributed verbally instead of ontologically. It is not that God has blood, but the person who is God has blood as a man. Therefore, it is appropriate because of the unity of the person to say “God has blood.” John Calvin explains, “It very frequently happens, on account of the unity of the Person of Christ, that what properly belongs to one nature is applied to another.”

How can both statements be true? How can Jesus be in heaven and with His disciples? The only possible answer to these questions is that He is both God and man. God is omnipresent (1 Kings 8:27; Psalm 139:7–10; Jer. 23:24) and this did not change when the Son assumed a human nature. This must be the case because it is impossible for God to change (Mal. 3:6; Jas. 1:17).[6]

Calvin gives us the Chalcedonian key here: The communication of properties is possible “on account of the unity of the Person of Christ.” And as Beza notes above, this close unity of the two natures in the one person teaches us about the person of Christ. We know that the natures are unified in the person by the very fact that both are predicated of Him—even to the point of verbally applying properties of one nature to the other.

A Test Case: Divine Presence and Human Distance

What does partitive exegesis look like in practice? We can use the divine attribute of omnipresence as a test case. On the one hand, Christ made it clear to His disciples that He was leaving them: “It is to your advantage that I go away” (John 15:7; see Acts 1:9–11). On the other hand, Christ makes statements that indicate His continuing presence with the disciples after His ascension: “I am with you always, even to the end of the age” (Matt. 28:20).

God is omnipresent and this did not change when the Son assumed a human nature.

The Son lost nothing in the incarnation, but instead assumed a human nature. As it pertains to His presence, He did not lose omnipresence, but assumed locality as a man. His infinite being was veiled in a finite location, but not fully contained in it. So, although Christ is truly a man and localized in one place as such, He is simultaneously the omnipresent God.

This mind-bending reality was helpfully articulated in the period of the Reformation. The belief that Christ is omnipresent as God yet localized as man has come to be known as the extra Calvinisticum. This title is somewhat misleading because Calvin did not invent the doctrine. It is simply associated with his name because of how it played into the Reformation debates over the Lord’s Table.

Positively, the extra Calvinisticum teaches that God the Son retains all his divine attributes, specifically omnipresence. Negatively, (because of the positive point) the extra Calvinisticum teaches that God the Son is not contained within the human nature which he assumed.[7] Calvin poetically articulates this position,

For even if the Word in his immeasurable essence united with the nature of man into one person, we do not imagine that he was confined therein. Here is something marvelous: the Son of God descended from heaven in such a way that, without leaving heaven, he willed to be borne in the virgin’s womb, to go about earth, and to hang upon the cross; yet he continuously filled the world even as he had done from the beginning.[8]

The Genevan Reformer carefully avoids two errors here. First, he refuses to divide the person of Christ. The Son who fills all things is the same person who was born of a virgin. Second, he refuses to blend Christ’s two natures—humanity is not omnipresent and divinity is not contained locally.

Do you see how partitive exegesis helps us answer the question of how Christ is both personally present with us but also in heaven? It faithfully harmonizes texts like Matthew 28:20 and Acts 1:9–11. Those verses that indicate omnipresence refer to Christ by His divinity and those that indicate local movement or limitation refer to Christ by His humanity.

Why We Need Partitive Exegesis

Concerning the time of His return, Jesus says in Matthew 24:36, “But of that day and hour no one knows, not even the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but the Father alone.” This verse tells us that the Son is ignorant of something (the time of His return).

Based on everything we’ve seen above, how should we interpret this statement? Is ignorance appropriate to Christ’s divinity, humanity, or both? We know that God is omniscient (1 John 3:20), so ignorance cannot be true of divinity. Therefore, it must be true of Christ according to His humanity.

Some will object that this interpretation neuters the force of Matthew 24:36, but this conclusion is not necessary. Christ’s statement is still true—the One who is God is ignorant of something as a man. Understanding that Christ’s ignorance is only possible for Him as a man in no way undermines the meaning of this verse. In fact, it should cause us to marvel at the fact that Christ is both ignorant and omniscient!

Furthermore, we frequently interpret the Bible this way without even realizing it. We don’t read a passage about Jesus getting hungry (Mark 11:12) and assume that God suddenly has a digestive system. Instead, we know that hunger indicates the genuine humanity of the Son. Likewise, when we read that Jesus upholds the universe (Col. 1:17), we don’t assume that He is doing so with human hands.

Whatever is said of either nature is true of the person, but what is said of one nature is not necessarily true of the other nature. So when Scripture makes a statement about Christ, we have to ask ourselves, “Is this statement true of both natures or just one?” Then, “If it is true of only one nature, which one?”

The One who is God suffered on the cross as a man. The One who is man upheld the universe while it happened.

If we do not interpret Scriptures concerning Christ correctly—in light of the reality they describe—we end up with a God who thirsts, sleeps, suffers, submits, and lacks knowledge. We also end up with a man who is omnipotent, omnipresent, and eternal. If we fail to retain the properties of each nature to themselves, we blend them and start on the short road to heresy. In fact, this is exactly how certain heretics have interpreted Matthew 24:36.[9]

Did My Sovereign Die?

Partitive exegesis is a way of making explicit what many Christians do intuitively. If you’ve ever sung Isaac Watt’s hymn “Alas! and Did My Savior Bleed,” you’re familiar with partitive language. The opening lines state,

Alas! and did my Savior bleed,

And did my Sovereign die!

The third verse goes even further:

Well might the sun in darkness hide,

And shut its glories in,

When God, the mighty maker, died

For his own creature’s sin.

Did God die? Yes—as a man! God the Son suffered, bled, and died on the cross as a real human while retaining full divinity. Cyril of Alexandria embraces this reality: “To the same one we attribute both the divine and human characteristics, and we also say that to the same one belongs the birth and the suffering on the cross since he appropriated everything that belonged to his own flesh, while ever remaining impassible in the nature of the Godhead.”[10]

The One who is God suffered on the cross as a man. The One who is man upheld the universe while it happened. The one undivided person is the same in both cases. And instead of simplifying this mystery, we should be compelled by it to adore Christ more. This great mystery of God the Son in two natures should cause us to continue singing with Watts,

Was it for crimes that I have done,

he groaned upon the tree?

Amazing pity! Grace unknown!

And love beyond degree![11]

[1] Herman Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics, Vol. 2, God and Creation (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2004), 30. Emphasis added.

[2] I am borrowing terminology from Jamieson and Wittman here: “Partitive exegesis discerns the precise referent and scope of scriptural statements about Christ. Since Scripture proclaims a single Christ who is both divine and human, partitive exegesis recognizes and maintains a distinction between Christ’s divine and human natures.” R.B. Jamieson and Tyler R. Wittman, Biblical Reasoning (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2022), 155.

[3] This list is adapted from John F. Walvoord, Jesus Christ Our Lord (Chicago: Moody Press, 1969), 117–118.

[4] R.B. Jamieson and Tyler Wittman explain, “Why does Paul specify that Jesus’s human lineage is from the seed of David? Because that is not the only lineage he has. Jesus is not only David’s son but also God’s Son. So, even though Paul’s partitive qualifier [i.e., ‘according to the flesh’] only faces one direction, we can fittingly paraphrase Paul’s partition with a Chalcedonian parallelism. In Romans 1:3, Jesus is God’s Son as regards his divinity, and David’s son as regards his humanity.”  Jamieson and Wittman, Biblical Reasoning, 157.

[5] Theodore Beza, A Clear and Simple Treatise on the Lord’s Supper, trans. David C. Noe (Grand Rapids: Reformation Heritage Books, 2016), 67.

[6] Some people have interpreted Paul’s claim that the Son “emptied Himself” in Philippians 2:7 to mean that He “set aside” or “gave up” certain divine attributes in the incarnation. Thankfully, Paul explains what “emptied Himself” means in the very next phrase. He writes that the Son “emptied Himself, taking the form of a bond-servant, and being made in the likeness of men.” For a complete explanation of Philippians 2:6–8, see Mike Riccardi’s article “Veiled in Flesh the Godhead See: A Study of the Kenosis of Christ” in The Master’s Seminary Journal 30/1 (Spring 2019): 103–127 and Stephen J. Wellum, God the Son Incarnate (Wheaton: Crossway, 2016), 174–179.

[7] Paul Helm offers a succinct definition of extra Calvinisticum: “This is the view that in the Incarnation God the Son retained divine properties such as immensity and omnipresence and that therefore Christ was not physically confined within the limits of a human.” Richard Muller explains further, “The Reformed argued that the Word is fully united to but never totally contained within the human nature and therefore, even in the incarnation, is to be conceived of as beyond or outside of (extra) the human nature.” Paul Helm, John Calvin’s Ideas (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004), 58 and Richard Muller, Dictionary of Latin and Greek Theological Terms, 2nd ed. (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2017), 116.

[8] John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, trans. Ford Lewis Battles (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1960), II.13.4.

[9] See, for instance, the Socinian John Biddle, A Brief History of the Unitarians (1691), 4.

[10] Cyril of Alexandria, On the Unity of Christ, trans. John Anthony McGuckin (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladamir’s Seminary Press, 1995), 133.

[11] Some of the material in this post was originally posted here and here.

Is the Son of God inferior to God? The answer to this question, after the incarnation, is both “yes and no.” The Son of God is indeed inferior to God, according to His assumed human nature, but He is not inferior to God, according to His divine nature. To understand this answer, it is necessary to understand that the incarnate Son of God has two natures, a true divine nature and a true human nature, united in the one person of the Son of God. At the incarnation, the eternal Son of God took to Himself a true human nature. In theology, this union of Christ’s two natures in one person is called the “hypostatic union” which refers to a “personal union” of true God and true man.

The Hypostatic Union

Consider the hypostatic union in a bit more detail. The term “hypostatic” is from a Greek word, hupostasis, or person, and refers to the manner in which a rational nature subsists. The term “person,” according to Boethius, refers to “an individual substance of a rational nature.”[1] Others have defined it as “subsistence endowed with reason.”[2] “In general, ‘person,’ is defined as a substance, or individual nature, endowed with intelligence, subsisting by itself, really and truly distinguished from others by its own incommunicable property.”[3]

To understand the hypostatic union, it is necessary to reflect on the terms “nature” and “person.” The difference between a rational nature and a person is that a person refers to the particular way in which a rational nature acts. Rational natures do not act. Only persons act. Or to put it differently, rational natures subsist as particular persons, which act distinctively within and by those natures. 

Consider three examples of rational natures that subsist as persons: God, angels, and human beings. God’s being is rational, and His nature exists in three ways, persons, or subsistences: the Father is neither begotten nor proceeding, the Son is eternally begotten from the Father, and the Spirit is eternally proceeding from the Father and the Son. Angels also have a rational nature, and each individual angel subsists as a particular person, or way of being and acting as an angel. Each human being also has a rational nature, and each individual human being exists as a particular person, or way of acting as a human.

This brings us to the Lord Jesus Christ. At the incarnation, the eternal person of the Son of God assumed a human nature. The eternal Son of God is nothing other than the very being of God subsisting personally, and thus at the incarnation, the whole divine essence, subsisting in the manner of the Son, joined Himself to a human nature. The Bible speaks of the incarnation of the Son of God in various ways. It says “the Word became flesh” (Jn 1:14), “came in the flesh” (1 Jn 4:2-3), “took the form of a servant” (Phil 2:7), was made a “partaker of flesh and blood” (Heb 2:14), and was “manifested in the flesh” (1 Tim 3:16).

The Son of God is indeed inferior to God, according to His assumed human nature, but He is not inferior to God, according to His divine nature.

But how are the divine and human natures united in Christ? What sort of union is it? It is not an essential union, in which the two essences are blended together. It is not a covenantal union, such that the two natures simply agree together. It is not a natural union as in the union of the human body and the soul. It is not an external union, like the union of God with the angel of the Lord, or of angels to their bodily manifestations.  Rather it is a true personal union.

But what is meant by personal union? The great Reformed theologian, Francis Turretin helpfully describes the personal union of Christ’s two natures. He said that God the Son (the divine nature subsisting) assumed to Himself a human nature, which does not subsist in the manner of a human person. It is crucial to grasp that the human nature of Christ is not a human person and has no personal subsistence of its own. If the human nature subsisted, it would be a human person, not a divine person. If it is claimed that the human nature subsisted as the Son of God, then the human nature would subsist as God, which is impossible because the finite cannot grasp or contain the infinite. Rather, Christ’s human nature, a true body and a reasonable soul, which did not subsist personally, was assumed into the person of the Word, or the Son, and was so joined to Him that the human nature became “substantial with the Logos.”[4]

Turretin goes on to explain the way this personal union happens. He says that the union of the two natures is by a “personal sustenation,” activity, or operation, of the Son of God within and by the human nature, such that Christ’s human nature really is one of the two natures of the Son of God.[5] Put differently, the action of God the Son within, throughout, and by His rational human nature is nothing other than the very person of God the Son, according to His human nature. Herman Bavinck, quoting Thomas, writes, “The human nature in Christ must be considered as though it were a kind of organ of the divine nature.”[6] The Triune God so acts upon a human nature that the resulting action, or personal operation, within, throughout, and by that nature is that of the Son of God.

The Incarnate Son

The hypostatic union means that after the incarnation and for all eternity afterwards, the eternal Son of God really has two natures, a divine nature and a human nature, acting according to both natures at the same time. It means that when Mary conceived Jesus by the power of the Holy Spirit, she really carried God the Son in her womb. In Luke 1:31-32, the angel Gabriel said to Mary, “And behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High.” Therefore, Mary is rightly called “Theotokos,” the God-bearer.

The incarnation further means that when Christ died on the cross for our sins, the Son of God Himself really died for our sins, according to His human nature. The divine nature cannot die. But God the Son can die, according to His human nature by virtue of the hypostatic union. 1 Corinthians 15:3 says, “Christ died for our sins.” Without the hypostatic union, all we would be able to say is that a human nature died for us. But a human nature in itself cannot possibly atone for our sins. We must be able to say that the eternal Son of God Himself died for our sins, according to His human nature, and He did so by virtue of the hypostatic union.

But while it is true that the Son of God truly assumed a human nature into His person, it is also true that He continued to be God, and to act according to His divine nature. Thus, while the Son of God came down from heaven, and was born of a virgin, He did so in such a way that He never left heaven (Jn 3:13). The Son, according to His divine nature, remained in heaven and fully present in every place, even when He became flesh and dwelt among us. Similarly, though the Son of God ascended into heaven, He did so in such a way that He never left earth  (Matt 28:20). Though the Son of God, according to His human nature, went back into heaven, His divine nature is present with us forever.

The Son as Not Inferior to God

The Bible speaks in ways that must be understood in terms of what has been called “partitive exegesis.” The Second London Confession 8.7 says, “Christ, in the work of mediation, acts according to both natures, by each nature doing that which is proper to itself; yet by reason of the unity of the person, that which is proper to one nature is sometimes in Scripture, attributed to the person denominated by the other nature.” Thus, sometimes, the Bible speaks of Christ and His actions in terms of His divine nature, and sometimes it speaks of Christ and His actions according to His human nature. Other times, it speaks of the human nature in terms of the divine nature and the divine nature in terms of the human nature (Jn 3:3; Acts 20:28). This is appropriate because of the real personal union of the two natures.

We must be able to say that the eternal Son of God Himself died for our sins, according to His human nature, and He did so by virtue of the hypostatic union.

Many passages of Scripture teach that Christ, the Son of God, is not inferior to God, but is in fact God Himself. Scripture says, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God” (Jn 1:1); He declares, “I and the Father are one” (Jn 10:30), which does not mean that they are the same person, but that they share the same essence. Hebrews 1:8 says, “of the Son he says, Your throne, O God, is forever and ever;” and after the resurrection, “Thomas answered him, “My Lord and my God!” (Jn 10:28); (Heb 1:8); He is declared to be the “King of kings and Lord of lords” (Rev 19:16). The Bible teaches that Christ created everything: “All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made” (Jn 1:3); He is present everywhere: “where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I among them” (Matt 18:20); He is all powerful: “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me” (Matt 28:18). He does not change: “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever” (Heb 13:8); He forgives sin: “Your sins are forgiven” (Lk 7:48).

None of these attributes belong to the Son’s human nature, but only to the Son, according to His divine nature. Therefore, the Son of God, according to his divine nature is equal to God. But that is not the whole story.

The Son as Inferior to God

The Bible teaches that the Son of God, according to His human nature, is in fact inferior to God. And that must be the case, since how could the Son of God identify with us, substitute for us, or represent us, unless He assumes a human nature, which is inferior to God? The ancient creeds recognize this fact. The Athanasian Creed declares that the incarnate Son is “Perfect God; and perfect Man, of a reasonable soul and human flesh subsisting. Equal to the Father, as touching his Godhead; and inferior to the Father as touching his Manhood. Who although he is God and Man; yet he is not two, but one Christ” (emphasis added). Therefore, the incarnate Son stands in a twofold natural relation to God the Father. With respect to His divine nature, He is equal to the Father, but with respect to His human nature, He is inferior to the Father.

The Bible plainly teaches that the Son, according to His human nature, is inferior to God. He changed and grew: “Jesus increased in wisdom and in stature and in favor with God and man” (Lk 2:52); He experienced hunger: “He was hungry” (Matt 4:2); He experienced thirst: “I thirst” (Jn 19:28); He became tired: “Jesus wearied” (Jn 4:6); He was tempted: “He Himself suffered when tempted” (Heb 2:18); He was weak: “He was crucified in weakness” (2 Cor 13:4); He died: “He breathed His last” (Lk 23:46). None of these things can be true of the divine nature. They can only be true of Christ’s human nature, which is inferior to the divine.

One text that shows the inferiority of the Son of God, according to His human nature is 2 Corinthians 8:9, which says, “For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that you by his poverty might become rich.” The Son of God, prior to the incarnation, was rich only, but at the incarnation, He became poor, according to His human nature. Yet it is important for us to understand that He only became poor (according to His human nature) in such a way that He remained rich (according to His divine nature). The only way we can become rich through Christ’s poverty is if He also remains rich! Thus, the Son of God, according to His human nature is inferior to God the Father, but He is equal to God the Father, according to His divine nature.

Summary and Conclusion

To summarize, Jesus Christ is true God and true man, united in the one person of the eternal Son of God. Therefore, He is equal to God the Father, according to His divine nature, but inferior to God the Father, according to His human nature. This means that the incarnate Son of God is simultaneously weak and all powerful, ignorant and all knowing, located in space and fully present everywhere, dependent and independent, creature and Creator, limited and infinite, temporal and timelessly eternal, changing and unchangeable, subject and sovereign, visible and invisible, and so forth.

This is absolutely necessary for our salvation. If Christ were less than God, He could not save us. If He were more than man, He could not be our substitute. JC Ryle puts it well:

I find a deep mine of comfort in this thought, that Jesus is perfect Man no less than perfect God. He in whom I am told by Scripture to trust is not only a great High Priest, but a feeling High Priest. He is not only a powerful Savior, but a sympathizing Savior. He is not only the Son of God, mighty to save, but the Son of Man, able to feel….

Had my Savior been God only, I might perhaps have trusted Him, but I never could have come near to Him without fear. Had my Savior been Man only, I might have loved Him, but I never could  have felt sure that he was able to take away my sins. But, blessed be God, my Savior is God as well as Man, Man as well as God – God, and so able to deliver me – Man, and so able to feel with me.[7]

[1]    Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica I, q. 29, a. 1.

[2]    William Den Boer and Reimer A. Faber, eds., Synopsis of a Purer Theology, vol. 1 (Davenant: China, 2023), 70.

[3]    Ibid., 71.

[4]    Francis Turretin, Institutes of Elenctic Theology, vol. 2 (Phillipsburg: P&R, 1994), 312.

[5]    Ibid.

[6]    Herman Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics, vol. 3 (Baker: Grand Rapids, 2006), 307; Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica 3, q. 4, a. 2, ad. 2.

[7]    JC Ryle, Holiness (Charles Nolan: Moscow, 2001), 238-239.

As a relatively new believer in Christ, I read a book on Christology (i.e., the study of Christ). Most of the material was over my head. I noticed that the author used technical terminology of which he largely assumed his readers were somewhat familiar. Two terms especially come to mind: person and nature. When Christians confess that our Lord is one person, two natures, what do they mean? Most believers are aware of Christmas hymns which were written to depict the Scripture’s teaching on the incarnation (i.e., God becoming man). One example of this is found in the well-known hymn “O come, all ye faithful.”

The second line reads as follows: “God of God, Light of Light; Lo, he abhors not the virgin’s womb: Very God, Begotten, not created; O come, let us adore him, O come, let us adore him, O come, let us adore him, Christ the Lord.” The fourth line in that hymn includes these words: “Born this happy morning… Word of the Father, Late in flesh appearing…” Both the second and fourth lines of this familiar hymn contain startling language. The hymn-writer is actually borrowing from ancient Christian creedal statements. Our Lord is God, yet “he abhors not the virgin’s womb”?  He is very God yet “Late in flesh appearing”? The one Christ is both God and man? The one person of the Son is our two-natured redeemer? The answer to these questions is a resounding yes.

The hymn cited above and the creedal statements behind it are an attempt to explain what Scripture itself asserts about our Lord. For example, 1 Timothy 3:16a says, “And without controversy great is the mystery of godliness: God was manifested in the flesh” (NKJV). Mark these words carefully: “God was manifested in the flesh.” During the incarnate ministry of our Lord on the earth many years ago, it was God who was manifested and it was in the flesh that he was manifested. Here we have one Lord Jesus Christ, both God and flesh. Another famous text which asserts what we call the incarnation of the Word, or Son, is found in John 1:14, which reads, “And the Word became flesh…” There are several such texts in the New Testament (especially) which require careful explanation. What is required is not the bare repetition of the words of Scripture but an explanation of their meaning. In other words, sometimes it is necessary to use words not in the written word of God to explain the written word of God. The term Trinity is one such example. Similarly, we use the terms person and nature to best account for Holy Scripture’s teaching on our two-natured redeemer. I want to define these terms then show how the terms so defined help us understand Scripture’s teaching on Christ as both very God and very man in one person. I will also introduce readers to the well-known language of hypostatic union.

By “person” is meant the who or the acting subject. Let me illustrate this. If deacons of a given church observed that a window was broken in the fellowship hall, they might ask “Who did this? Who was the acting subject to cause this effect?” They find out it was Joe. Joe is a person, an acting agent who causes certain things. By “nature,” on the other hand, is meant the what of an acting subject that allows him to act as he acts. We might say the thing by which he acts. If it is asked, “How did Joe do this?” The answer could be: by punching it with his fist. If we thought a bit more about Joe, we would conclude, Joe has a fist and is able to cause it to break a window. And he is able to do that because he has a body which is moved by his soul. Joe is a human person with a human nature by which he does things.

So “person” refers to an acting agent and “nature” refers to the agency by which an agent or person acts. By “hypostatic union” is meant that the Son of God incarnate is one “who” (one person) yet two “whats” (natures) united in him by which he acts. The two “whats” are the divine nature and the human nature, natures by which he (i.e., the one person) acts. If we ask, who is Christ? We rightly answer the Son of God incarnate. If we ask, what is Christ? We rightly answer God and man in one person. In terms of persons, nature is that by virtue of which they know, will, and act. The one person of the incarnate Son acts by virtue of two natures. Persons are “whos” or the active subjects of natures. With reference to our incarnate Lord, he is one person acting conjointly by virtue of two natures. He is one subject or agent, the Son of God incarnate, acting or operating by virtue of or according to two agencies—his divine nature and his human nature. These “two whole, perfect, and distinct natures, were inseparably joined together in one Person: without conversion, composition, or confusion…” (2 LCF 8.2). There is a saying that seeks to capture this Christian confession: “’I am what I was’ (to wit, God) ‘nor was I what I am’ (namely man) ‘now I am called both’ (to wit, God and man).”[1]Great, indeed, is the mystery of godliness!

During the incarnate ministry of our Lord on the earth many years ago, it was God who was manifested and it was in the flesh that he was manifested.

Let’s look at some important texts from John’s Gospel, chapter 1. In John 1:1–2 we read, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God.” The Word is said to be “in the beginning,” “with God,” and “God.” So there was in the beginning the Word and God but the Word is also named God. We will come back to this. John 1:3 says, “All things were made through Him [i.e., “the Word”], and without Him nothing was made that was made.” These words introduce readers to creation, effected by virtue of the Word or Son. Then in verse 14 we read, “And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.” Here is the incarnation of the Word. The order in this passage is very instructive. First “the Word” and “God” (vv. 1 and 2), then creation (v. 3), and then incarnation (v. 14). This order is not merely to be observed, but it must condition our reading of the entire Gospel of John.

The difficulty here is that the Creator, the Word, “became flesh.” How do we parse this in a manner that makes scriptural sense? Given that the Word is God, he is such eternally and immutably. Divinity cannot change but can bring being into being that had no being, including the flesh and soul of Christ. God creates. But flesh is not divinity and divinity is not flesh. Flesh can not be then be, but it cannot be divinity. It would no longer be flesh.

I think it is crucial to allow words in John 1:1–2 to help us while trying to make our way through a proper understanding of verse 14. The Word is God and was in the beginning with God. If the Word is a divine person, it seems the one he was with is also a divine person, since he is God but not the Word. Assuming the Word to be a divine person, how can he become flesh and still be the Word while being flesh? We must be careful here. Our scriptural instinct is to preserve his Wordness (his divinity) and his fleshness (his humanity)—a good instinct. But how is this best stated? This is a mine-field for bad takes so we must be careful. Remember that the Word is a person, a divine person. Do we want to say the Word is a person and the flesh he became is a person? I hope not. That is Nestorian (an ancient heresy, a two-personed view of our Lord incarnate). It is orthodox to say one person/two natures. Given Scripture, we ought to protect the unity of person but not to the neglect of the distinct natures. Recall the words of our Confession: very God, very man, one Christ!

Moving back to John 1:1–2 might help us again. The Word is a divine person. Given what the Old Testament says about God, the Word is omnipresent because he is God. If he is omnipresent, and if it is he, the Word, who becomes flesh, wasn’t he already present, though in a divine mode of presence before becoming flesh? How can he become present if already present? Could it be that “and the Word became flesh” means the Word became present in a new way? If by “flesh” John means man—body and soul—then though the Word was present by virtue of his divinity, he became present in a new mode by virtue of his assumed humanity.

The incarnation was not the relocation, an act of moving to a new place, by the Word from heaven to earth. It was the assumption, the taking and uniting to himself, of a created human nature by the eternal Son of the eternal Father. And, by the way, if “without Him nothing was made that was made” and the flesh he assumed was made, then we need to leave room in our explanations of the incarnation for the Word to be the creative cause of his own flesh. He could be its cause because he exists beyond it as very God.

The incarnation was not the relocation, an act of moving to a new place, by the Word from heaven to earth.

Carefully defining person, nature, and the union of the two natures in the one incarnate Son of God helps Christians articulate the mystery of the incarnation. It helps us explain how our Lord can be both God and man yet one Christ. It helps us work through difficulties that arise when contemplating the acts of our Lord during his state of humiliation (i.e., from his conception to his death/burial). During his state of humiliation, did our Lord sleep, hunger, thirst, weep, not know certain things, suffer, bleed, and die? Yes. Who did all these things? The Son of God incarnate. Did the Son of God incarnate do all these things according to both natures? No. He slept, hungered, thirsted, wept, did not know certain things, suffered, bled, and died according to the only nature that could experience those things—his human nature. But, while according to his human nature our Lord slept, hungered, thirsted, wept, was ignorant, suffered, bled, and died, what was he doing according to his divine nature at the same time? If it is the Word who is God who assumed flesh and God does not change, then in terms of his divine nature the one Son of God was acting according to it simultaneously doing the things God does. This is important to understand. While our Lord was among us many years ago, he retained “the form of God” (using Paul’s language in Phil. 2:6) while “taking the form of a bond servant” (Phil. 2:7). He was both “form of God” and “form of a bondservant” yet one Christ. The “taking the form of a bondservant” is his emptying; and the emptying is him “taking the form of a bondservant.” Remember, our Lord incarnate is very God and very man. He is one person (i.e., the Word, or Son, of God) yet two natures (i.e., divine and human); one agent/two agencies.

These are great revealed mysteries, indeed. One last question will suffice. Why? Why the Son of God incarnate? Why a two-natured redeemer? One way to answer this questions is as follows: “But when the fullness of the time had come, God sent forth His Son, born of a woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law” (Gal. 4:4–5). The Son was sent to assume our nature (“born of a woman”), to assume our duties (“born under the law”), and to assume our liabilities (“to redeem those who were under the law”) in order to bring us into the safe presence of God. He became man for us and for our salvation! Let us adore our two-natured redeemer, our Lord Jesus Christ, very God and very man. Amen!

[1] Francis Turretin, Institutes of Elenctic Theology, Volume 2 (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R Publishing, 1994), 13.6.11 (2:313).