What Does God Know?
In the 1970s and 80s especially a new challenge to the traditional understanding arose in the form of free-will theism, or open theism. These folks argue that God does not know the future exhaustively, that he may have mistaken knowledge, and that he in fact grows in knowledge. I penned an introductory piece on this movement some years ago, which includes a helpful bibliography.
Does God know future events?
The questions in my title and sub-title might seem to most Christians to be rather silly questions. ‘Well of course he does!’ they would say to both. He is omniscient and he knows all things. And that is indeed what Scripture seems to clearly teach.
With some exceptions, divine omniscience has long been considered to be one of the key attributes of God. That certainly has included his knowledge of the future, as well as his knowledge of possible or contingent events. But not all have agreed with this, and in the 1970s and 80s especially a new challenge to the traditional understanding arose in the form of free-will theism, or open theism.
These folks argue that God does not know the future exhaustively, that he may have mistaken knowledge, and that he in fact grows in knowledge. I penned an introductory piece on this movement some years ago, which includes a helpful bibliography. See that piece here: https://billmuehlenberg.com/2006/12/13/everything-you-wanted-to-know-about-free-will-theism/
As can be seen in that article, a sizeable library of volumes – both pro and con – exists on this movement. As with all theological and philosophical discussions, matters can get quite complex and detailed. Not wishing to oversimplify things here, I just want to look at three passages often appealed to by the openness of God theologians in terms of divine foreknowledge.
It will be my view that these three texts – and others like them – can all fit in with the traditional understanding of God and his knowledge, and often texts like these involve the use of rhetorical language and the like. If these passages do appear to be problematic on their own, the old hermeneutical rule of comparing Scripture with Scripture must come to our aid here. That is, we always should assess those passages that might be somewhat less clear in the light of those passages that are much clearer.
So let me look at each passage in turn. In Genesis 3:9 we find God asking Adam this: “Where are you?” I recall some decades ago a friend who was did not believe in divine foreknowledge asking me about this text. I replied instantly (as I would hope most believers would have) that this was obviously a rhetorical question. Of course God knew where he was!
God clearly did not lack knowledge about Adam’s geographical whereabouts. This was more a question for the sake of Adam, asking him about his moral and spiritual condition, having just sinned big time, disobeying God’s clear instructions.
Recall what the previous verse said: “And they heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and the man and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God among the trees of the garden.” They foolishly thought they could hide from God, revealing their seared consciences. As John Frame remarks:
Typically, passages in which God “finds out” something occur in judicial contexts. In Genesis 3:9, God asks Adam, “where are you?” This is not a request for information. In this verse God begins his judicial cross-examination. Adam’s responses will confirm God’s indictment, and God will respond in judgment and grace. But the same judicial context exists in other texts where God “comes down” to “find out” something.” See Genesis 11:5, 18:20-21, 22:12, Deuteronomy 13:3, Psalms 44:21, 139:1, 23-34. When God draws near, He draws near as a judge. He conducts a “finding of fact” by personal observation and interrogation, then renders His verdict and sentence (often, of course, mitigated by His mercy). So none of these passages entail divine ignorance.
And similar passages in Genesis could be raised here, such as:
“Then the Lord God said to the woman, ‘What is this that you have done?’ (Genesis 3:13)
“Then the Lord said to Cain, “Where is Abel your brother?” (Genesis 4:9)
Did God really not know these things? Obviously figurative language was being used for the sake of those God was speaking to. As John Peckham puts it in his 2021 volume, Divine Attributes: Knowing the Covenantal God of Scripture:
Do such passages portray God as lacking knowledge, as some suppose? If God knows everything, why would he ask questions? Notably, questions may be posed for many reasons other than to gain information. When I ask my students what the word “omniscience” means, I ask in order to teach. When I see cookie crumbs on my son’s mouth and ask whether he got into the cookies, I already know the answer. In depositions and trials, lawyers often ask questions to which they already know the answers to get a person’s testimony on record. God’s questions seem to function likewise.
While these sorts of passages seem easy enough to address, two others might be a bit more difficult – at least for some Christians.
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Why Was a Man Killed for Touching the Ark of the Covenant? (2 Samuel 6)
Written by John L. Mackay |
Tuesday, December 26, 2023
“The anger of the Lord” is not some power inherent in the ark but the personal response of God to the contravention of his requirements. “God struck him down,” that is, killed him, “there,” on the spot where the offense was committed, so that there would be no doubt about the connection between offense and penalty. “Because of his error” involves a somewhat obscure term, but 1 Chronicles 13:10 makes it clear that Uzzah’s error was his unthinking irreverence in touching the ark.Read the Passage
1David again gathered all the chosen men of Israel, thirty thousand. 2And David arose and went with all the people who were with him from Baale-judah to bring up from there the ark of God, which is called by the name of the Lord of hosts who sits enthroned on the cherubim. 3And they carried the ark of God on a new cart and brought it out of the house of Abinadab, which was on the hill. And Uzzah and Ahio, the sons of Abinadab, were driving the new cart, 4with the ark of God, and Ahio went before the ark. 5And David and all the house of Israel were celebrating before the Lord, with songs and lyres and harps and tambourines and castanets and cymbals. 6And when they came to the threshing floor of Nacon, Uzzah put out his hand to the ark of God and took hold of it, for the oxen stumbled. 7And the anger of the Lord was kindled against Uzzah, and God struck him down there because of his error, and he died there beside the ark of God. 8And David was angry because the Lord had broken out against Uzzah. And that place is called Perez-uzzah to this day.
Military Presence and Pageantry
“David again gathered all the chosen men of Israel” is evocative of a military campaign, like those just described against the Philistines (2 Sam. 5:17–25), and this is probably how David views bringing the ark to Jerusalem (1 Chron. 13:1–4)—but with the surprising difference that he does not inquire of the Lord (2 Sam. 5:19, 23). Whether “thirty thousand” men or thirty military units are involved, a military presence provides the pageantry and security for this major national milestone.
The phrase “they carried” (lit., “they made to ride”) along with the mention of a “new cart” signals how the first attempt to bring the ark to Jerusalem is flawed from the start. Though intended as a mark of respect, using a new cart is actually the Philistine mode of transporting the ark (1 Sam. 6:7), whereas the Lord had specifically directed the ark to be carried by Kohathites from the tribe of Levi, using poles inserted through rings incorporated into its sides (Ex. 25:13–15; Num. 4:4–6, 15, 17–20).
Three generations earlier, the ark had been left in the “house of Abinadab,” in the custody of Eleazar (1 Sam. 7:1). He has died in the interim, and Uzzah and Ahio, his descendants, are now its custodians. Though “Ahio” may mean “his brother” (ESV mg.), it is probably a personal name (as in 1 Chron. 8:31; 1 Chron. 9:37). The two brothers “were driving the new cart,” not seated on it but walking in front of it and beside it as they guide it.
A Joyful Procession
David and all the Israelites with him “were celebrating before the Lord.” The verb “celebrate” (found also in 2 Sam. 6:21 and in 1 Sam. 18:7, and as “compete” in 2 Sam. 2:14) indicates joyful exuberance, probably involving dancing.
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One Thing My Parents Did Right: A Home Grounded in Reality
When I was around 10 years old, I was a little philosopher piecing together life’s meaning in a world without God. I once confidently told my mom the purpose of life was to pursue happiness. I was sure that in a world devoid of any transcendent standards to which I might be held accountable, this was the only sensible answer to life’s meaning. But my mom quickly rebuked her little hedonist and told me life was about more than enjoying yourself. Life is about helping others and making the world a better place, and while happiness is a good thing, it can’t be the ultimate thing. Her words rang true though I couldn’t assemble a solid foundation on which to place these ideas.
My mom is the single greatest influence on my life, and the Lord used her in a vital way to bring me to a saving knowledge of Christ. She laid a framework that made the Christian worldview intelligible and, eventually, compelling to me. I’m certain my story is like countless others where God worked through the discipline and instruction of parents to reach their children.
But one thing makes my situation unique: my mom isn’t a Christian.
For most of my childhood, she’s been an atheist. During my growing up years, she talked about church as punishment. She’d even threaten to take me and my siblings to church when we were misbehaving. Yet in many ways, the manner in which Mom raised us betrayed dependence on a Christian outlook on reality.
We were brought up with an unshakable sense that we lived in a morally charged world—meaning was derived from the world around us, not something we imposed on the world. We heard we weren’t the only significant people but rather part of a larger network of people who are just as important as us. My mom knew the most loving way to raise us was to teach us we weren’t the center of the universe.
Home Didn’t Revolve Around Us Kids
This was perhaps most clearly evident in the decisions my mom made for me growing up. While she cared about what I wanted, she was most concerned with what was best for me. If the two were in conflict, no amount of protesting on my part would change her mind. Our household didn’t revolve around my desires but around the fixed reality of the world I lived in.
I was taught to eat my vegetables, do my homework as soon as I got home from school, and get eight or nine hours of sleep each night. I might not have always appreciated the wisdom of these rules, but even as a kid, I understood at least theoretically that they existed for my good.
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Physicians, Heal Thyselves
Paracelsus, the pseudonymous author of First Do No Harm, argues that the American medical system is profoundly and perhaps irretrievably broken. The original Paracelsus, who also used that pseudonym, was a contemporary of Machiavelli and an acquaintance of Erasmus and Luther. He helped revolutionize medicine with modern methods, something that made him a critic of the medical establishment of his time. Our Paracelsus opposes today’s medical establishment for its corruption and stagnation.
Trust in American institutions is at an all-time low. Fewer Americans trust their elected officials, journalists, or business leaders to do what is best for the country than at any time in the past. Perhaps the decayed institutions do not deserve the public’s trust.
Congress seems unable to pass laws or budgets or to oversee the executive branch. Administrative bureaucracies are often captured by industries and narrow interests. The press no longer holds public officials accountable for misdeeds and lies; it promotes its own preferred narratives instead. Universities have become ideology factories. America’s military has waged several wars ineffectively; it has lower standards for admission than in the past. Our public schools achieve less at greater cost than in the past. No college professor honestly thinks students are better than they were a generation ago, nor are the college professors as well educated. Fewer movies have compelling plots or character development.
The list of decaying institutions includes our fake economy, the energy grid, factory farming, churches, air travel, public infrastructure, architecture, and our melting pot of assimilation. Our IQ scores are declining as are sperm counts, while obesity rises. Birth rates are cratering. Marriage formation lags. Americans are shorter on average than we were a generation ago. The list could go on.
Sports like golf and basketball, television, and the culinary arts are arguably better than in the past. Yet late republics specialize in just such bread and circuses. Decaying republics have good booze, tasty cheeses and crackers, and wonderful flat screens to watch girl-boss gladiators on demand.
Medics Under Fire
Could America’s medical system remain free from this general decay? Paracelsus, the pseudonymous author of First Do No Harm, argues that the American medical system is profoundly and perhaps irretrievably broken. The original Paracelsus, who also used that pseudonym, was a contemporary of Machiavelli and an acquaintance of Erasmus and Luther. He helped revolutionize medicine with modern methods, something that made him a critic of the medical establishment of his time. Our Paracelsus opposes today’s medical establishment for its corruption and stagnation.
Paracelsus treads on sacred ground when criticizing modern medicine. Founders of modern science like Francis Bacon and Rene Descartes thought the modern project would stand or fall by its ability to deliver ever greater improvements in health. Modern doctors are indeed able to do far more than their medieval predecessors. In many ways, the authoritative doctor stands in the modern mind as a representative of the entire modern scientific project, so an attack on medicine is an attack on the promise of modernity.
Medicine and science generally have delivered, in a manner of speaking. Life expectancies have indeed risen from 40 years old in 1880 to nearly 80 in 2015. Much of the credit for this rise goes to improved sanitation, better housing, better nutrition, the development of vaccines, and declines in maternal and infant mortality—all products of Baconian modern science. The health care system gets too much credit for the rise in life expectancy (life expectancy was almost 60 before by the 1920s), but it is a factor in rising life expectancies. No one appreciates medical advances more than I do. I would have been a widower had my wife given birth to our first in the 1850s. My daughter, diagnosed with stage four cancer when she was very young, is now a thriving adult cancer survivor: she would have been a goner in the 1920s or 1950s.
My positive experiences with the medical system happened well over a decade ago. Paracelsus dates our decayed medical system to around then. No system is perfect, of course. Anyone attempting to establish Paracelsus’s conclusions must present a “before” picture to compare against the decadent system. Paracelsus accomplishes this through a rich, mostly narrative clinical dissection of America’s system. According to Paracelsus, the goals of perpetuating the health system and providing quality health care are diverging, to the detriment of patient health. As more money and prestige come from perpetuating the system, the patient-centered goal of health is compromised. Health care’s glittering exterior (white-coated doctors, nice buildings, big staffs, lots of research money) masks an interior that is increasingly rotten and dysfunctional.
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