Saturday, March 01, 2008

March


Calvin, a Guide for the Perplexed



Those who visit Helm's Deep may be interested in this short book, Calvin, A Guide for the Perplexed, (a nicely ambiguous title, don't you think?), to be published later this year by T & T Clark. It is intended to be an introduction to Calvin's theology, with (where appropriate) a philosophical flavour.


The Chapters are -

1. Orientation
2. The Knowledge of God and of Ourselves
3. God in Trinity
4. The Son
5. Grace and Faith
6. The Christian Life
7. The Church and Society
8. Calvin and Calvinism

With the agreement of the publisher I hope to post three or four shortish sections from a draft of the book between now and its publication. The first of these will appear next month. So Jonathan (Edwards) , a paper on whose views of the Trinity was previously announced, will have to wait in the queue until John (Calvin) has had his say.

This month, March, the second of three Analyses on views of divine sovereignty, 'Twisse's Twist', is published. The third, 'Owen's Option', will be published next month.

In addition, a paper celebrating the 50th birthday of J.I.Packer's 'Fundamentalism' and the Word of God is now posted.

Incidentally, if you have the need of a translation of the Institutes, then the reissue of the Beveridge translation (newly published by Hendrickson) may be just the thing. It has new indexes, and has been 'gently edited', which means, I hope, only the removal of typos and other detritus. (I have not yet had the chance to check). Beveridge is superior to Battles in sticking closer to the original Latin, and having less intrusive editorial paraphernalia.

'I have also consulted the older translations of the Institutes, namely those of Norton, Allen and Beveridge, in view of both the accuracy of those translation and the relationship in which they stand to the older or "precritical" text tradition of Calvin's original. Both in its apparatus and in its editorial approach to the text, the McNeill-Battles translation suffers from the mentality of the text-critic who hides the original ambience of the text even as he attempts to reveal all its secrets to the modern reader'. (Richard A. Muller, The Unaccommodated Calvin, (New York, Oxford University Press, 2000, Preface, ix)


'Fundamentalism' and the Word of God - Fifty years old!

J.I.Packer

'FUNDAMENTALISM' AND THE WORD OF GOD

Some Evangelical Principles

'Defend the Bible? I would as soon defend a lion'
- C.H. SPURGEON


It is a great pleasure for me personally to celebrate this book, for reasons that will become clear. Until Joy Horn mentioned it, I’d clean forgotten that 2008 is the book’s half-century. It was published early in 1958. Shortly before then I had made a profession of faith, and in 1959 I was due to go to Oxford. It appeared at an opportune time. Published as an unpretentious paperback, with a sticky cover, at the price of 4s 6p, or 22.5 pence, or about 45 US cents, I quickly devoured its 80,000 or so words. I believe that it fortified me for what lay ahead, and also acted as something of a model for how one should write about Christianity, and especially how to write about Christian doctrine. A model that it has proved hard to follow.

According to Alister McGrath, publishing the book brought Jim Packer into the mainstream from what before then had been a distinctively if not exclusively Puritan and Reformed tendency – the Puritan Conference, and the article ‘Keswick and the Reformed Doctrine of Sanctification’. (Alister McGrath, To Know and Serve God: A Biography of James I Packer, (London, Hodder & Stoughton, 1997, Ch. 6)) That article, published in the Evangelical Quarterly in 1955, which evidently quickly created a furore, is one which if Packer has not subsequently disowned he has certainly downplayed. It does not appear, for example, in any of the four volumes of his collected writings, and references to it are hard to find, though it was reprinted by John Doggett in the Free Grace Record some years later. Perhaps the author thinks that as the ‘Keswick’ doctrine of sanctification is dormant the article may also sleep.

But I’m not sure about this claim of McGrath’s, and I shall return to it. Of course the inspiration and authority of Scripture is a mark of evangelicalism as this term is now routinely understood; indeed, to some minds, it is the highest common denominator, uniting evangelicalism as no other doctrine does. But if we take a little time to study the way in which Packer articulates his understanding of Scripture, and where he places the stress in his exposition, then we shall hear the voice of a distinctly Reformed theologian. He, I do not doubt, regards it as all of a piece with the work he did even earlier.

At the time of publication Jim Packer taught at Tyndale Hall, Bristol. He was nearly 32, and it was his first book. It is an occasional work, and in that way it is more like a NT epistle (or John Calvin’s Institutes) than (say) the Systematic Theology of Charles Hodge. The occasion was the Billy Graham ‘campaigns’ in the UK, and the charge made by academic theologians and others was that these rallies both relied upon and promoted ‘fundamentalism’. As Packer stated more than once, the scare quotes around ‘Fundamentalism’ in the book’s title are intrinsic to understanding the character of the work. For it is not a defence of fundamentalism, nor even an exploration of fundamentalism’s relation to the Word of God, but it aims inter alia to show that what the critics of the Graham Crusades such as A.G. Hebert labelled as a ‘fundamentalistic’ attitude to Scripture is nothing other than the orthodox, historic doctrine of Holy Scripture. Because the work is not a full-dress defence of fundamentalism we find the author distancing himself from fundamentalists as soon as he can, noting ‘serious limitations in the witness which they made’. He meant the anti-intellectualism of the fundamentalists. Fundamentalism’s ‘adventures in the field of the natural sciences, especially with reference to evolution, were most unfortunate’, as was its attitude to culture and its loss of a sense of history. (32) Nevertheless, the fundamentalists’ ‘desire to defend the evangelical faith against a militant and aggressive Liberalism was equally certainly right’. (33)

So although the book was an ‘occasional’ work, called forth by a particular set of circumstances, it was more than a response to these circumstances. The author replied to the critics of Billy Graham in good measure, setting out in a clear, forceful, gentlemanly, good-natured way the classic Reformed doctrine of the authority and inspiration of Holy Scripture. He took the opportunity to offer ‘a constructive re-statement of evangelical principles’ (Foreword) and so to remind evangelicals especially in the UK (whom he perhaps feared were on the slippery slope to fundamentalism proper) what it was they believed even if they were not completely aware of the fact.

So it is, that after the two chapters spent on analysing and sifting ‘fundamentalism’, the book becomes a book of principles, and its author begins at the beginning, with the principle of authority, and with how given different starting points one naturally gets different theologies, those of subjectivism and traditionalism, which in Packer’s view sit on either side of evangelicalism. It should be borne in mind, in view of later developments, that the author all the time is here dealing with ideas and their interconnectedness, not with people or movements in the church. As we shall see, the sharpness and exclusiveness with which he delineates rival systems of religious authority do not automatically translate into sharpness of personal attitude to the people who adhere to them. For the author, distancing oneself from inadequate understanding of the inspiration and authority of Scripture does not mean in all circumstances distancing oneself from those who have these misunderstandings.

In the course of the analysis of Christian authority, the first of his evangelical principles, Packer begins to disclose his theological colours. His basic principle is that a Christian doctrine of something is to be identical with Christ’s (and the apostles’) doctrine of it.

Christianity is an historical religion, and had an historical Founder, whose teaching all Christian profess to regard as normative. The authentic Christian position on any subject, therefore, will be that which corresponds to what He taught. (51)
We must be clear as to the nature of our task. Our aim is to formulate a biblical doctrine; we are to appeal to Scripture for information about itself, just as we should appeal to it for information on any other doctrinal topic. That means that our formulation will certainly not give us a final or exhaustive account of its subject. All doctrines terminate in mystery; for they deal with the works of God, which man in this world cannot fully comprehend, nor has God been pleased fully to explore. (75-6)
Packer develops this not only in terms of Christ’s and the Apostles’ teaching, (Ch.3) but also of Scripture’s account of itself. And so it is that the evangelical method, in comparison to the method of the Christian subjectivist or traditionalist, is the most consistently Christian. He is careful to note that the evangelical account of Christian authority is not merely a stick to beat others with, it is one which, naturally enough, evangelicals themselves are subject to. (70f.) Those who teach others not to steal should not themselves steal.

Earlier I said that in the book Packer reveals himself not only as a defender of evangelicalism, but as a distinctively Reformed defender of it. This becomes clear in the course of developing these matters at some length. I shall begin by briefly noting three of these features. Others will follow.

First, taking his cue from B.B. Warfield, he notes that the evangelical view of Scripture implies a reformed view of divine providence. Writing of those who believe that a revelation delivered by sinful and ignorant human beings must itself be imperfect he states

But this is to deny the biblical doctrine of providence, according to which God ‘worketh all things after the counsel of his own will’. The Bible excludes the idea of a frustrated Deity. ‘Whatsoever the Lord pleased, that did he in heaven, and in earth’. He was well able to prepare, equip and overrule human writers so that they wrote nothing but what He intended; and the Scripture tells us that this is what in fact he did. We are to think of the Spirit’s inspiring activity, and, for that matter, of all His regular operations in and upon human personality, as (to use an old but valuable technical term) concursive; that is, as exercised in, through and by means of the writers’ own activity, in such a way that their thinking and writing was both free and spontaneous on their part and divinely elicited and controlled, and what they wrote was not only their own work but also God’s work. (80)

Second, Packer places emphasis upon propositional revelation. Even in 1958 this was an unfashionable notion even amongst evangelicals, more so today. Packer deals with it with customary wisdom. God reveals himself both by what he does and by what he teaches, by what he teaches about what he does. In Scripture we are presented not merely God’s mighty acts, but a divinely authorised commentary upon these. (92)

Not that the text of Scripture is made up entirely of formal doctrinal statements; of course, it is not…In fact Scripture is an organism, a complex, self-interpreting whole, its theology showing the meaning of the events and experiences which it records, and the events and experiences showing the outworking of the theology in actual life. All these items have their place in the total system of biblical truth. (94)

Third, the author reveals himself as a Reformed theologian by insisting on the self-interpreting character of Scripture, a matter which seems worth emphasising at the present time, given the tendency of some to interpret Scripture in the light of Second Temple Judaism or of the existence of Ancient Near Eastern parallels to the Old Testament. Dealing with biblical interpretation, Packer insists first that Scripture should be interpreted in its literal, that is, its intended sense (105-6), and then noting that (if the Scripture principle is to be maintained consistently) Scripture should be used to interpret Scripture. He says

Scripture must interpret Scripture; the scope and significance of one passage is to be brought out by relating it to others….The Reformers termed this principle the analogy of Scripture; the Westminster Confession states it thus: ‘The infallible rule of interpretation of scripture is the scripture itself; and therefore, when there is a question about the truth and full sense of any scripture, it must be searched and known by other places that speak more clearly’. This is so in the nature of the case, since the various inspired books are dealing with complementary aspects of the same subject. The rule means that we must give ourselves in Bible study to following out the unities, cross-references and topical links which Scripture provides. (106)

He also has sharp things to say about the ecumenical practice of papering over the cracks in the interests of peace and unity.

Nothing is gained just by trying to cement up the cracks; that only encourages the collapse of the entire wall. Sham unity is not worth working for, and real unity, that fellowship of love in the truth which Christ prayed that His disciples might enjoy, will come only as those sections of the wall which rest on unsound foundations are dismantled and rebuilt. Till this happens, the question of authority must remain central in discussions between the dissident groups; and the best service one can do to the divided Church of Christ is to keep it there. (45)

These last words make it easy to see how the doctrine of the authority of Scripture formed and fed one main trajectory of Packer’s subsequent theological career; other books, (such as God Has Spoken (1965, 1979) other papers, (Volume 3 of his Collected Shorter Writings contains 22 of these), and public statements such as the Chicago Statement on Biblical Inerrancy (1978).) These filled out Packer’s articulation of the doctrine of the inspiration and authority of Scripture and of the hermeneutics implied by it.

So how are we to receive Scripture as the word of God? By faith, Packer says, but not by a leap of faith. Rather faith in the Word of God itself, based upon the internal evidence that it is the Word of God, including faith in what Scripture says about itself. Faith is trust in God and in what he has said. Here is Packer adopting another distinctively Reformed, indeed specifically Calvinian, stance. As Calvin saw reliance upon Scripture as the word of God as an aspect of faith in the promises of God, so does Packer. As Calvin focuses upon the self-testifying character of Scripture, so does Packer. As Calvin emphasises the work of the Spirit in clearing the mind of sinful resistance and misapprehension to the teaching of Scripture, so does Packer. As Calvin stresses the objective truth of Scripture, notwithstanding our own and others’ sinful resistance to it, so does Packer. (120-1)

This last point, that the Scripture is objectively true whether we like it or not, is particularly important in a culture which is increasingly subjectivist, and so it is worth quoting what the author says..

Not that the divine character of the Word which mediates His self-disclosure to men is not objectively clear. Scripture conceives of the divine character of revealed truth as something which evidences itself to the sound mind as clearly as do light and colour to the normal eye. But man’s mental ‘eyes’ are blind through sin, and he can discern no part of God’s truth till the Spirit opens them. Inner illumination, leading directly as it does to a deep, inescapable conviction, is thus fundamental to the Spirit’s work as a teacher. (118)

The Spirit’s work is ‘a healing of spiritual faculties, a restoring to man of a permanent receptiveness towards divine things, a giving and sustaining of power to recognize and receive divine utterances for what they are’. (119)

So, if the Spirit works in these ways, ‘Why is it’, Packer asks,

that any Christian should ever deviate frpm the Bible’s view of itself? The same question arises in connection with unscriptural views of any doctrine. It does not seem hard to answer. Christians fall into mental error, partly through mistaking or overlooking what Scripture teaches, partly through having their minds prepossessed with unbiblical notions so that they cannot take scriptural statements seriously. (123)

I believe that these words, and the section of the book from which they are drawn, must have been overlooked by many of Packer’s subsequent critics, at least those who have accused him of inconsistency. They also give us reason for thinking that Alister McGrath is somewhat mistaken in seeing the writing and publication of ‘Fundamentalism’ and the Word of God as the ‘coming out’ of Packer into the evangelical mainstream (as opposed to paddling along the Puritan and Reformed creek). Packer always saw himself as being in the evangelical mainstream, indeed as being in the Anglican mainstream.

If the views that he expresses here had been kept in mind, then what happened subsequently, when there was a parting of the ways regarding the Puritan Conference and a questioning Packer’s bona fides as an organiser of and participant in the Conferences, events that have been subsequently long pored over, their interpretation passionately contested, would not have come as a great surprise.

Packer’s argument is this: Christians, those united to Christ and regenerated by his Spirit, may nonetheless be in mental error, even serious mental error. Nevertheless, Packer say, a person may be a Christian still.

Heretical notions may occupy Christian men’s heads, leading to error of thought and practice and spiritual impoverishment; but these notions cannot control their hearts. As regenerate men, it is their nature to be better than the unscriptural parts of their creed would allow. Hence they are inconsistent; it is good that they are. In this case, Christians in the liberal camp have adopted a position which logically makes reason, and not Scripture, their final authority. But just because they are Christians and have the witness of the Spirit, it is not in their nature to follow this anti-Christian principle to its logical conclusion – which would be to dismiss as incredible all that is incomprehensible, and so to deny the whole Christian faith. Regenerate men can never do that. Hence we find that they are in practice inconsistent. (124)
A person may be regenerate yet due to mental error he may deny the inspiration and authority of Holy Scripture in theory though not in practice, or not altogether in practice. As a result of the regenerating work of the Spirit his practice is better than his theory. If this is so, and if I am in a church in which such people are present, present even in influential positions, I may not separate from them, and I may even have a duty not to separate from them. This seems to be Packer’s argument. The counter-argument is: those who in responsible teaching positions in a Christian Church deny the fundamental doctrine of the authority and inspiration of Holy Scripture, may be separated from, or must be separated from, even if separating from them requires me to separate from that church.

It has been said that around 1965 there was a ‘shift in the thinking’ of Packer and others regarding their position in the Church of England, (Iain H. Murray, Evangelicalism Divided, Banner of Truth, 2000, 88. ) The available evidence for such a change is not persuasive. If we make a distinction between strategy and tactics, then Packer’s strategy of remaining in the Church of England as a loyal member was based, among other things, upon his theology of regeneration and mental error, a doctrine which, incidentally, he shared with favourites of his such as John Owen and Jonathan Edwards. His tactics may have changed, of course, as he came to hold a position of influence in the Church of England and as the issue of Anglican-Methodist unity loomed, and as he sought to deploy his influence in these talks and other related issues to what he believed was the maximum effect.

One reason for misunderstanding Packer’s position in ‘Fundamentalism’ and the Word of God may be that he places great store in his book by the writings of J.G. Machen. Like Packer himself, Machen was respectful of the stance of the fundamentalists without being one himself. Packer has a high opinion of Machen’s analysis of theological liberalism in his Christianity and Liberalism, which ‘crystallized the issues at stake in their broadest implications with a judicious mastery that cannot be too highly praised’. (25)

And the book ends with a rallying cry from Machen, ‘Let us not fear the opposition of men…Of course the gospel of Christ, in a world of sin and doubt, will cause disputing…..Conventions have been broken down; men are trying to penetrate beneath pious words to the thing that these words designate….God grant that great questions of principle may never rest until they are settled right!’ (177, quoted from Machen’s What is Faith?) But Machen was, of course, a secessionist par excellence, plotting a course that eventally forced him out of his church. It became clear, and should have been clear from the start, that Packer was not tarred with the same brush.

Naturally, it is not my purpose here to try to arbitrate between these views of what happened some time after the publication of the book we are celebrating but simply to note that Packer’s position later on is consistent with his view in the 1950’s. He cannot be accused of inconsistency, nor of shifting his position over time, say over the Anglican-Methodist talks in which he sided with Anglo-Catholics in the Church of England, in Growing into Union and elsewhere. Though no doubt, as with us all, unfolding events which it is impossible to anticipate mould the particular ways in which our views are shaped and the occasions on which they are given expression. However, even with all this in mind, I rather doubt that in 1958 Packer could have envisaged the sort of cooperation with some Roman Catholic friends that he now advocates.

The chapter on faith is one of two on how the doctrine of Holy Scripture is, and is to be appropriated in the Christian church. The other chapter is on reason. Let us turn to that, in which Packer continues to handle the question of how the one authoritative Word of God is to be received, but as one who is also aware of the charge of anti-intellectualism that had been raised against so-called ‘fundamentalists’ in the UK.

There is a sense in which for the author this is the heart of the matter; the criticism, if true would be ‘damning’. (127) ‘All truth is God’s truth; facts, as such, are sacred, and nothing is more un-Christian than to run away from them’. (127) Packer’s response is to return the compliment of anti-intellectualism to the critics. It is they who have ‘failed to meet the claims of Christian reason’. (127) The reason of a Christian man is to be employed in the service of his faith.

Christian reason functions in multiple ways: it receives the Word of God in a mindful, not a mindless way, subjecting itself to its divine teachers, Word and Spirit. In this area, especially, the Christian has in mind the mysterious character of divine revelation, so he must think in such a way as to conserve this. He uses reason to receive the facts as they are, not to criticise it for not telling us what we want to know, or for not being ‘reasonable’ by applying a standard of reason that he brings to the text, and properly brings to fallible human texts, rather than receives from it. Above all, Christian reason receives the Word of God as divine testimony, nothing less. We are to use our minds to distil the teaching of Scripture, and to apply it to life. ‘Theology must function as the queen of the sciences, showing us how to approach, interpret and use all our knowledge in such a way that the secular order is sanctified to the glory of God’. (131)

Packer develops these ideas partly in critique of his fellow evangelicals, with their tendency to withdraw from the world, even from the world of learning, into ‘spirituality’. (133) But ‘The biblical revelation is given us, not merely to show us how to gain heaven, but also to provide us with the principles for glorifying God by creative and imaginative living here and now’. (135) Finally, Christian reason is to be used in the communication of the faith. (137)

But what if reason and faith clash? For Packer this is a rather unfortunately phrased question. Reason and faith clash not as a result of the operation of ‘pure’ reason, but when some way is sought of allying faith and secular reasoning, or more strongly, of bringing faith into line with secular reasoning. The human mind has been affected by sin – indeed sin has its root in the mind – and always wanting the last word, as we do, is not merely an intellectual mistake but a moral lapse. Reason must, then, be freed by Christ. (143). Packer here reveals himself as being in the Augustinian ‘Faith Seeking Understanding’ tradition. The book’s last chapter, in which Packer returns to the issue of theological liberalism and its true character, is dated in its details but not in its main thrust, looking once more at the nature of the controversy which led Packer to write his book.

Some, I know, are glad that this book was followed by Knowing God, Keep in Step with the Spirit and the like. For my part, I prefer the Packer of Evangelism and the Sovereignty of God, ‘”Keswick” and the Reformed Doctrine of Sanctification’ (1955), ‘What did the Cross Achieve? The Logic of Penal Substitution’ (1974), and his ‘Introductory Essay’ to John Owen’s The Death of Death (1959). Above all, I prefer the Packer of ‘Fundamentalism’ and the Word of God. I hope that you’ll join with me in celebrating its 50th birthday.


This is a draft of the text of a lunchtime lecture to be given at the Evangelical Library on Monday 10th March

Monday, February 11, 2008

Analysis 12 - Twisse's Twist

God, if we speak of his absolute power, without respect to his free decree, could have pardoned sin without a ransom, and gifted all mankind and fallen angels with heaven, without any satisfaction of either the sinner, or his surety
– Samuel Rutherford


In the last Analysis we noted that Calvin emphasised the inscrutability and sovereignty of God’s will, and stresses divine simplicity, and then largely leaves the matter there, also stressing the inappropriateness of attempting to investigate the Creator-creature relationship. In the decades that followed Calvin’s era Reformed theologians employed the tools and results of scholastic theology to press some of these matters further. (Though Calvin himself was no enemy of scholasticism. For some details see Paul Helm, John Calvin’s Ideas. ) Among these was William Twisse. Twisse (1575-1646) is largely forgotten. (There is a brief discussion of him in Carl Trueman’s The Claims of Truth, (Paternoster, 1998)) Educated at Winchester and New College, Oxford, and a Fellow there, and then for many years the Vicar of Newbury in Berkshire, Twisse wasappointed Prolocutor of the Westminster Assembly until forced to cease through ill -health. But he was ill - suited to the job, being retiring and not at ease in oral discussion.




A thumbnail of William Twisse, from a portrait in the National Portrait Gallery
The man, as the world knows, is very learned in the questions he has studied, and very good, beloved of all, and highly esteemed; but merely bookish, not much, as it seems, acquainted with conceived prayer, and among the unfittest of all the company for any action; so after the prayer he sits mute. (Robert Baillie on Twisse.)
Nevertheless he was a formidable scholastic theologian. At one stage he was offered a Chair of Theology in Holland. His Latin Opera were published in Amsterdam (1652). However, the repetitiveness of his English writings tries the patience. Here we shall draw attention to and try to understand his strong doctrine of divine sovereignty. It got him into trouble with John Owen, whose views we shall consider in our next Analysis. Owen discusses Twisse’s views as they are found in Vindiciae Gratiae, (1632) but the same position is to be found in his Riches of God’s Love (posthumously published in 1653). Samuel Rutherford agreed with Twisse, as the quotation at the heading of this Analysis makes clear.

One curious feature of the spat between Owen and Twisse is that Twisse’s Riches of God’s Love and Owen’s Dissertation of Divine Justice were each published in 1653. Owen (at that time Vice-Chancellor of the University of Oxford) wrote a commendatory Preface for the book, even though it contained the very doctrine of sovereignty that he objected to in Twisse’s earlier Vindiciae Gratiae. ‘This Treatise of our Author, comes not any whit behind the choicest of those other eminent Workes of his, wherein in this cause of God, he faithfully served his generation.’ It has to be borne in mind that both Twisse’s Vindiciae, some of which Owen objected to, and his rebuttal, are originally Latin texts addressed to scholars.

Twisse on the nature of divine sovereignty

There is a problem with the relative positions of the divine will and the divine character. Is the will of God in some sense prior to (not temporally or causally prior, but logically prior) God’s natue, or subordinate to it? (This question is distinct from the issue of whether or not God can do things by his power alone, distinct from his nature – both Twisse and Owen, with the Reformed Orthodox tradition since Calvin - reject such an idea as blasphemous). It may seem that this distinction is pure logic chopping. However, if one takes the view that God’s will ‘presides’ over his character, then a strong doctrine of divine sovereignty results. If by contrast the divine will (or power) is subordinate to the divine character, and it is held that God is ‘obliged to’ or ‘has a duty to’ himself, to his own moral and spiritual self, then a more constrained doctrine of divine sovereignty follows. Twisse took the first view, as we shall now see.

Twisse makes a substantive distinction between God's essential nature and his will in respect of his wisdom and justice. God, unlike men and women, does not have an obligation to his moral attributes. (Riches of God’s Love, II.112) He had no obligation to create the universe, nevertheless the manner in which he creates must be just in that it is an exercise of God’s lawful power as Creator (Riches II.153). He is the Lord of life, to grant it or not, to prolong it or to end it. As Twisse puts the point in his Riches of God’s Love

In making the world, I doe not doubt, but God did that which was just; but was there any justice in God obliging him to be making of the world?….It is most true that supposing the end which God intends, the wisdome of God directs in the right use of congruent means; and no other justice then this his wisdome doth Aquinas acknowledge in the divine nature. (152)


(The reference to Aquinas is likely to be to Summa Theologicae Ia 21.1 'Justice and Mercy in God’. There is a marginal reference to Aquinas in Riches II.112, to the will of God, question 23, artcle 6, on the will of God. But as a reference to the Summa Theologiae this seems to lead nowhere. For a modern defence of a similar position, see Brian Davies, ‘The Problem of Evil in Philosophy of Religion, a Guide to the Subject, (ed. Brian Davies (London, Cassell, 1998) 177f.)

In the Vindiciae Gratiae Twisse appeals to Duns Scotus, chiefly in respect of the nature of the divine will to choose other than it does in fact choose. But as Trueman points out, even the supposedly non-voluntarist Aquinas is able to contemplate the idea that God could redeem in other ways than by atonement (Trueman, 108, referring to Summa Theologiae 3a 46.2). The way in which Twisse uses both Scotus and Aquinas as it suits him underlines the eclectic approach to philosophical influences that is characteristic of Reformed Orthodoxy, as Richard Muller has noted.

This is not a God of pure will, potentia absoluta in a sense that makes God’s action lawless, utterly amoral. It cannot be, since God has a just nature. If the label ‘voluntarism’ is appropriate, it is voluntarism of a mild kind. To use an analogy, it is rather like the right that a monarch may have to grant a free pardon to someone guilty of a crime, or the right that the authorities exercise when they declare an amnesty.

The arguments

Twisse has two arguments or clusters of arguments for the position that he advocates. The first of these stresses the Creator – creature distinction.

While God’s ‘communicable’ attributes are all essential to him, the corresponding virtues in people are accidental. So it cannot be said that what is attributed to God can in the same way be attributed to man. (Riches I.124-5) This is another reason, for Twisse, sharply to distinguish the Creator from his creatures.

If justice humane be of the same nature with justice Divine, it followeth, not only that, that which is just in man is just with God, but that it must be after the same manner just, that like as men’s justice consisteth in obedience to God’s law implying subjection. And like as man is obliged to be just, in the same manner God is obliged to be just. And consequently like as Saul sinned and became unjust in slaying the Lord’s Priests, so had God been unjust in doing the like. (125)


‘God’s power is of a transcendent nature in being uncreat(ed)’ (Riches II.34) At the (logical) moment of his decree, since (unlike his creatures) God has no obligations, he has complete discretion over how he will choose exercise his goodness. Given that he wills the forgiveness of sin, likewise he has discretion over the mode by which that forgiveness is procured.

Peter Geach puts what seems to me to be the essentials of Twisse’s view as follows

God has nothing to gain from creating things, or from our praise or him; God’s will is the reason why things other than God are, and itself has no reason. I am not denying that God’s will is for the good, or affirming that God has set up some arbitrary standard of goodness; but the Divine Nature stands in no need of any good to be got from creation. (Providence and Evil, C. U. P., 1977, 36)


In this he seems to follow Scotus. According to Richard Cross, Scotus argued in the following way

If prior to any act of his will, there were any obligations placed on God (if God had ’practical knowledge’) with regard to the actions he directs towards creatures, then either God would be bound to will them, or he would not be so bound. In the first case God would fail to be free with regard to his creature-directed actions. And this would make his actions dependent on the natures of creatures; which in turn would mean that failed to be wholly unconditioned – such that he could not be affected by anything external to him. (Richard Cross, Scotus on God, (Ashgate, 2005, 88))

For some reason Cross restricts his consideration of Scotus’s view on divine power to what God can command, but as Twisse implies it equally has implications for what God can decree for his creatures.

This is very much Twisse’s approach. Although he appeals to Scotus in his Latin writings yet as we have seen in more than one place in Riches he endorses Aquinas’s view of God’s relation to his wisdom and justice in the Summa Theologiae.

So on this view God does not have an obligation to his own justice as we are obliged to keep his law. Instead he has discretion whether or not to make demands on his creatures in accordance with his justice. But such discretion is not, in turn, an exercise of pure will. ‘It is impossible that he should abuse his sovereignty; yea his mercy and justice are one and the same reality with his power: what a vanity it is to discourse as this Author (Twisse’s opponent Hord) doth, in preferring one attribute of God before another, as if God were more glorious in the one than in the other’. (Riches I 124)

Twisse’s second cluster of arguments is the scriptural data. For his account of the Creator-creature distinction is not a piece of a priori reasoning. He stresses the Scripture emphasis upon the will of God, as in ‘I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy’ (Riches II.152-3), ‘God works all things after the counsel of his own will’, and references to the ‘good pleasure’ of God. For Twisse, the divine will has a primacy that these data seem to assign it.

More generally, he adopts and emphasizes the following principle: that whatever Scripture says that God wills must be just. So all that God does and permits is just with the justice of ‘codecency’ (Riches, II 152.) That is, it is in accordance with his own goodness. But of course it follows, from his strong distinction between the Creator and the creature, that it would not be just any creature were to do the same action.

In fact, this is Twisse's key claim.

There is a further general position that Twisse takes: that our obligation to God rests upon his power over us. ‘To power only and sovereignty we owe obedience, and not to goodness, and jurisdiction is farre more glorious than subjection.’ (Riches I 124)

It is impossible that any thing he does should be otherwise than just, such a justitia condecentiae followeth all his action; otherwise we must grant, that God hath power to doetht which is unjust…Accordingly, though power humane and Angelicall, may be shewed in barbarous actions, yet power Divine cannot; let him doe whatsoever he is able, it shall not be unjust; if God turne all the World into nothing, another manner of destruction than that of Saul’s slaying of the Lord’s Priests, or Nebuchadnezzar casting the three Children into the fiery Furnace, yet dares this Author say, that God herein should be unjust. (I.124)


Nor is this simply a case of Twisse adopting strong voluntarism; he gives priority to God’s will but this is to make the precise point that God is under no obligations, not even to himself, and not that he is a God of pure will.

Some consequences of Twisse’s view

We have seen that for Twisse the respective positions of Creature and creature are fundamentally different. He is the potter, we are the clay. (According to Twisse, as the Lord of life and death, God can inflict pain upon us. (Riches II 34) Twisse recognizes how difficult it is to reconcile such sovereign power in God with his justice.

And the truth is, it is very difficult to resolve how it can stand with divine justice thus to deale with a creature (viz to commit it to hell for the least sin). Yet I know many courses are taken to solve this difficultie, and the best that I have met with is this in my judgment; That a man dying in sinne, his sinne continueth eternall (never broke off by repentance) as well as the pain, yet this upon examination is found to have its flawes, and will not satisfie. So that the best and finall resolution is to have recourse to God’s absolute power, as Creator over his creatures. And that absolute power will make it good even over an innocent creature, as over a creature nocent. And it were very strange to affirme that God hath not as much power over us as we have over our beasts, namely to put them to pain, to doe us service.’ (Riches, II.35)


So far does Twisse’s view of divine sovereignty take him: God has power justly to inflict pain upon the innocent, as ‘hell-paines’ were inflicted upon the holy ‘Sonne of God’. (II. 35) Twisse cites this as the view of Perkins as well as of various scholastics, and of Augustine.


Concluding remark

Thomas Morris begins his article ‘God and Goodness’ as follows,

Throughout the history of Western theology, divine goodness has been explicated in a number of different was. Central among these is the important religious claim that God is morally good. This form of divine goodness usually is thought to consist in God’s acting always in accordance with universal moral principles, satisfying without fail moral duties and engaging in acts of gracious supererogation. Divine moral goodness is understood basically on the model of human moral goodness. (‘Duty and Divine Goodness’ in The Concept of God ed. Thomas V. Morris, (O.U.P, 1987)
Morris argues that on this view God acts in accordance with principles that are duties for us, but not for him. He sets this view up only to dissent from it on the grounds that being necessary it has the consequence that God is not praiseworthy. Twisse, (and Rutherford) taking their cue from such as Scotus and Aquinas, sharply dissent from this duty model of divine goodness, and would (I imagine) dissent from the Morrisian variant of it as well. They have incompatible accounts of divine praiseworthiness: Twisse praises God for who he is, Morris only for what he does.