Wholesome Protestant Doctrine
God is not simply a big person, sharing our imperfections with us or exalting the supposed virtue of dependence, as if God is somehow glorified in His need. Rather, His divine life is marked by a completely different type of being—so much so, that it is more proper to call him the source, ground, or fount of being.
Readers of my column may remember that my eyes were first opened to the beauty of divine simplicity through the work of the Reformed Scholastic Francis Turretin. I had encountered the doctrine elsewhere, through both introductory and advanced systematic works, but Turretin explained the concept in a way that I could not only grasp but appreciate.[1] Turretin’s helpful explanation of divine simplicity, however, is far from elementary as there are numerous metaphysical terms employed throughout his exposition.
To master divine simplicity (if one could ever dream of doing so) would require mastering complex ideas such as pure act, Turretin’s understanding of formal conceptions, and the fine line between real, virtual, and eminent distinctions. Still, even though the Institutes of Elenctic Theology are full of these abstract and ethereal considerations, one repeating theme can help serve as the reader’s north star as they journey into this complex doctrine—the Creator/creature distinction.
The Dependent Creature
At its core, divine simplicity is a creature’s attempt at identifying what God is not—in this case, God is not made up of parts. Creatures, as opposed to their Creator, are made up of all sorts of physical and metaphysical parts. Creaturely composition necessitates that all creatures are marked with a deep seeded dependence, as everything composed must be assembled by another. Indeed, Kelly Kapic has noted that “using ‘dependent’ as an adjective for ‘creature’ is basically redundant—there are no creatures who are not, by their very nature, dependent beings.”[2]
Our physical limbs are knit together in our mothers’ wombs, our existence came about because of the choices of other people, and our souls (like everything we possess) are a gift from God. I did not assemble myself, nor could I sustain myself without the aid of other dependent creatures. In classical thought, then, the rejection of divine simplicity would necessitate a greater being than God capable of connecting the divine pieces together. In the same way that non-existent entities cannot create themselves, composite beings cannot eliminate their dependence on their parts.
The Independent Creator
God, however, is entirely independent. If God is in need of something for His existence or perfection, then His divinity must be called into question. Indeed, for Turretin, “Composition implies imperfection inasmuch as it supposes passive power, dependency and mutability.”[3] This brings us to an important aspect of divine simplicity, especially as the doctrine is articulated by the Reformed. Divine simplicity does not simply mean (pardon the pun) that God is free from all composition and division, but also is “incapable of composition and divisibility.”[4]
It is not enough to say that God *is not* made up of parts but that God *cannot* be made up of parts. The mere introduction of passivity, in which God would receive perfection from another, would place creaturely imperfection within divinity. “God is a most pure act,” writes Turretin, “having no passive admixture and therefore rejecting all composition (because in God there is nothing which needs to be made perfect or can receive perfection from any other…).”[5] At this point, the gulf between Creator and creature could not be wider.
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God has Changed Every Table
Written by T. M. Suffield |
Friday, May 13, 2022
We should be serious about food, about feasting, about serving the best our resources and skill allows—whether that’s chicken dippers or cordon bleu cuisine. We become friends around a table, because we become friends with God around a table. If at the Lord’s supper God meets with man, then at our tables man can meet with man because God has done so first, even if some round the table have not known this for themselves.The world is infused with wonder, and the presence of God reveals truth that was previously unseen.
When seen with the eyes of faith, every tree is a song that sings of life, of wisdom, of death that flowers with the scent of unknown spices. Every rock is the Rock and hides honey and gushing water. Every sky is a painting masterfully created for the eyes of a single human, before another masterpiece is hung as the wind blows. Every table is the Table.
I have a thing about tables. You might have picked that up if you’ve been around nuakh for a little while. You will certainly have if we know each other in real life. I’ve written why, or at least the superficial reasons why, and tables make homes, but there’s a deeper reason that I’ve only scouted around the edges of. The Table changes our tables.
Where does God meet man? At a table, where we celebrate the Lord’s Supper. Not only there, but if anywhere then there is where we can be assured that God will meet with us.
As our Sunday meetings culminate in this acted story, this symbol, this faith bought opportunity to sup with God, we sit down with God at the Table. And as we eat by faith we are lifted to the heavenly Temple and feast on Christ’s body and blood, a genuine foretaste of the feast at the end of history.
If you agree with my vision of the world—riven with the presence of God through the heart of every atom—then how could this not change the world? Most importantly because we get to eat with God, but how could that event not change the nature of the act of eating on every occasion? We cannot eat anything in the same way ever again—the simple of act of sustenance has gained a new resonance, a significance beyond itself, as though it became a sign itself.
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The Normal is King
All of our hearts are shaped by the habits we’ve formed over years, for good or for ill. Consequently, it’s not the sudden, grand gestures of repentance and change that have the greatest impact. But the long, well worn, ordinary habits of weekly gathered worship, personal prayer and real engagement with the Bible that God uses to shape us. These are the habits God moulds our hearts with.
A post from Chris Roberts:
In the New Testament, there’s a significant word used in connection with Jesus Christ. We’re told about his ‘customs’ (ethos). The word describes an action prescribed by long standing patterns or law. In everyday language, we might talk about someone’s ‘habits’.
In the Gospels, we discover that Jesus was a man with very strong habits. Just as his earthly parents had followed the habit of going to the temple every year (Luke 2:42), Jesus was in the habit of going to the Mount of Olives in prayer (Luke 22:39), going to the Synagogue on the Sabbath day (Luke 4:16) and teaching (Mark 10:1). These were his established, personal customs. The disciples noticed what Jesus did and where he did it. They saw how Jesus engaged in life with die-hard regularity. These patterns, established over time, became synonymous with the person himself. Jesus didn’t just live in his world, he in-habited it.
It is useful to recognise Christ’s habits and then compare them with ours.
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The Hodge Children and Missions
Written by R. A. Miller |
Saturday, November 19, 2022
In one short paragraph, we see a great portrayal of Christ’s kingship. The Hodges’ main idea points to Christ’s rule over all the world. Since God cannot lie (quoting Numbers 23:19) and the reign of Jesus is promised, the children reason that the people should not be working against Christ. Instead, they should work to establish the Lord’s Kingdom in India by throwing out their idols and loving the true God. This depth of theological understanding is not only remarkable for a child to have but also foreshadows the theological prowess that the Princeton theologian would later exhibit.If you know anything about A.A. Hodge, it’s probably that he was a Princeton theologian like his father, Charles Hodge. Being the son of such a notable Christian scholar, A.A. had a sharp yet Christ-centered mind, even at a young age. When he was just a boy, he wrote a touching letter with his sister addressing people of the great mission field of India. The letter was titled “Friends of the Heathen,” and was featured in the July 1887 edition of The Homiletic Review. The article is as follows:
The following is a most touching reminiscence of the late Dr. Hodge and his sister, when they were children: “A letter, yellow with age, lies on the table. It bears date June 23, 1833, and was sent to India in the care of Rev. Dr. James R. Eckard, then a missionary in that far-away land. It was written by a boy ten years old. That boy became a missionary himself—was a pastor in this country—and was esteemed the most eminent theologian of his day. Recently he heard the summons to a higher service; and “was not, for God took him.” Subjoined is the child’s note—suggestive of the impressions which youthful minds are capable of receiving:
“DEAR HEATHEN: The Lord Jesus Christ hath promised that the time shall come when all the ends of the earth shall be His Kingdom. And God is not a man that He should lie, nor the son of man that He should repent. And if this was promised by a Being who cannot lie, why do you not help it to come sooner, by reading the Bible, and attending to the words of your teachers; and loving God, and, renouncing your idols, take Christianity into your temples?
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