By Chris Stockman

Prior to declaring war on some other apologists of my generation, I contended that one consequence of God being timeless is that he cannot forgive anyone. That is, if one affirms classical theism (divine timelessness, immutability, and impassibility) then they ought to also believe that God cannot forgive them.^[1] These, however, are only three of the classical distinctives. The fourth plank of classical theism, which is often taken to be the foundational doctrine to the whole system, is the doctrine of divine simplicity.

One may wonder why I have separated simplicity from the other classical doctrines in these articles. First and foremost, was length considerations. The previous article was long enough even without looking at simplicity. But, second, is the intended audience. I was not writing that article for the trained philosopher or theologian, but rather the average churchgoer who has heard certain claims about God casually thrown out from the pulpit and has uncritically accepted them. The average person has heard God is timeless and unchanging very often. By contrast, I would wager that 90% or more of Christians have not even heard of simplicity, much less know what it actually is. This is interesting, since certain advocates of simplicity treat it as a test of orthodoxy.^[2] I find this use of simplicity puzzling, since I cannot think of a single other doctrine that is as abstract and far removed from being relevant to the Christian life. Thus, I was initially going to leave simplicity out of the discussion entirely. But, as the first article was coming together, I realized a well-rounded discussion should include it. 

So what is divine simplicity (DS hereafter)? As with the other classical doctrines, this is not always easy to nail down. Not every classical theist is forthcoming with a succinct definition of their claims, and I do not think that every thinker throughout church history that has claimed belief in DS has believed the same thing.^[3] Some use simplicity to say merely that God does not have physical parts. Others, however, make the more controversial claim that God does not have metaphysical parts.^[4] And just about everything passes for a metaphysical part in the classical schema. 

DS is well construed as a set of claims:

• “The doctrine of divine simplicity teaches that (1) God is identical with his existence and his essence and (2) that each of his attributes is ontologically identical in him with every other one of his attributes.”^[5]
• There are no distinct realities in God.^[6]
• God has no attributes.^[7] (So, are all of God’s attributes identical with each other, and so he has one attribute, or does he have no attributes?)
• God has no potential at all, but is purely actual.^[8]

A decent summary is: God has no attributes, is his own existence, and cannot possibly be other than he is, since rejecting any of these would require that he have metaphysical parts, which would just be the worst.^[9]

If you are sitting there wondering what the heck any of that is supposed to mean, you are in good company. I cannot make heads or tails of the idea that God is existence, and I suspect that is precisely the point. Those who are committed to saying that God has no attributes, is passion-less, is time-less, etc. are avoiding making any positive claims about God, saying instead only what he is not. The affirmation of DS is therefore a mainstay in the apophatic tradition.^[10] If apophatic theology is the only appropriate theology, then, as CS Lewis said “we worship we know not what.” Classical theists apply this to the nth-degree. There are advocates of this view that have stated to me “God does not exist”, in the interest of upholding the idea that God is existence. Now, if your view of God forces you to say that he does not exist, I take that as a good sign that you are deeply confused about God. I do not know why so many Christians find it desirable to give worship and entrust their lives to someone that they do not actually know a thing about. In Acts 17, Paul aimed to make known the previously unknown God. He noticed the altar in Athens to an “unknown god” and saw his opportunity to proclaim the Most High. He did not keep God shrouded in unapproachable mystery as the DS advocate forces themselves to. By the apophaticist’s metric, the Apostle Paul was a horrible theologian.

Anyway, as with timelessness, this doctrine has some unfortunate implications. One of them is what’s called “modal collapse”;^[11] basically, DS makes this world necessary. There is no other way things could have been. Abuse victims had to suffer their abuse. Your family member had to die without receiving Christ. Another implication could be that God is a property.^[12] As I’ll argue here, another implication is that God cannot forgive you.

A quick note: perhaps this is not your father’s divine simplicity. If this is not a DS you recognize, then I submit that it may not be simplicity that you believe,^[13] because all of these claims above are express statements by classical theists, old and new. These are exactly the things that they say. If the shoe doesn’t fit, find a new shoe. It is also possible that there are some intramural disagreements between DS supporters; perhaps not everyone agrees with Anselm, for example. If you reject a particular tenet of what I take to be DS, then fair enough.

Another quick note: perhaps you don’t want to read this whole article. You may just be wondering if you should affirm simplicity or deny it. You should reject DS if:

1. You think it is incoherent.
2. You think its implications are false.
3. You think Scripture teaches against it.
4. You have any intelligence at all.

Ok, maybe the last reason is wide of the mark. Classical theists are often sharp thinkers that, I believe, are just misled by some counterintuitive metaphysics. It’s not an intelligence question as some may cast it, but rather a question of whether or not one finds attractive the prior commitments that the classical tradition requires. For my part, I find them wildly implausible.

The Problems of Forgiveness

“But God is truly called in manifold ways, great, good, wise, blessed, true, and whatsoever other thing seems to be said of Him not unworthily: but His greatness is the same as His wisdom; for He is not great by bulk, but by power; and His goodness is the same as His wisdom and greatness, and His truth the same as all those things; and in Him it is not one thing to be blessed, and another to be great, or wise, or true, or good, or in a word to be Himself.”~Augustine^[14]

“You are happy, indeed you are by nature happiness, because you are in possession of yourself.”~John Duns Scotus^[15]

Keep these in mind; they’ll help us later.

So, I contended previously that a timeless God cannot forgive because he cannot change. One rejoinder could be that the classical theist could just say that God’s one act of being includes his act of wrath on sinners and his act of forgiveness to anyone who turns from their sin. After all, since they affirm that everything in God is God, they would just say his wrath is identical to his forgiveness which is identical to his existence. Therefore, since he is simple, the classical God can forgive you. Problem solved, right?

Not so fast. Actually, things just got worse. Much worse.

Problem #1: No real relations.

Normally, when discussing the doctrine of no real relations, one would quote from Thomas Aquinas, perhaps Summa Contra Gentiles II.11-13 or Summa Theologiae 1 q.45 a.3. You know, where he explicitly states that God isn’t really related to the world? Sadly though, I have been informed that I don’t understand him. So I’ll settle for Peter Lombard (1100-1160) saying basically the same thing. Maybe I understand him?

“From these comments, it is plainly shown that some things are said of God in time relative to creatures, without change of the deity but not without change of the creature; and so the accident is in the creature, not in the Creator. And the name by which the creature is called relative to the Creator is relative, and it denotes the relation which is in the creature itself; the name by which the Creator is called relative to the creature is also relative, but it denotes no relation which is in the Creator.”^[16] (Sentences I Dist. XXX.1)

Let’s apply Pete’s logic to God’s forgiveness.

I say that X is in a forgiving relationship with Y if and only if the propositions “X is the forgiver of Y” (or vice versa) and “Y is forgiven by X” (or vice versa) are both true. In my previous article I laid out at least a partial definition of forgiveness, but here that definition doesn’t actually matter. Christians affirm that God is our forgiver; our faith is false without it. But the proposition “God is the forgiver of a repentant sinner” has just been, by implication, literally denied by the classical theist. The relationship (forgiving a sinner) does not really have a referent on God’s end. Lombard says the accident, or property, (being forgiven in our case) is in us. But then he says that “the name by which the Creator is called relative to the creature…denotes no relation which is in the Creator”. Forgiver is not actually referring to anything in God. Then what does “God is the forgiver of a repentant sinner” refer to?

Aquinas comes to the rescue! Maybe I understand him if I’m using him to bail out the classical theist? Is that how this works? Aquinas wasn’t silly; he knew there had to be some way we can be related to God. So he called such relations to God “relations of reason”.^[17] These relations exist solely in our understanding. Creator, Redeemer, Lord, Savior, Sustainer…it’s all in your head. Whether or not this answer is compatible with Christianity is left as an exercise to the reader.

Problem #2: No real distinctions.

Remember Augustine and Scotus above; where God is happiness itself, and there is nothing distinct in God, that everything said of God is really the same thing? This backfires on the classical theist, as it happens. Recall the (working) definition of forgiveness from the prior article:

“You are feeling indignation or at least have some negative evaluation of the other person. But in response to someone asking for your forgiveness, or due to some consideration of what the ethical thing to do is, you forgive them. Your forgiveness involves you changing your evaluation of the person, and you no longer hold their offensive action towards you against them.”

We wrong someone, and so they feel indignation towards us. Then we apologize, or make reparations, and then they relinquish their indignation towards us. Their pre-forgiveness state is qualitatively different from their post-forgiveness state. They felt wrath and now are at peace with us; regardless of what one thinks about time and befores/afters,^[18] they are distinct states to be in. Can God do this?

            I do not see how, on DS. Since all that we say is in God, say, wrath, would be identical to everything else we say is in God, say, grace or happiness, there is no such thing as distinct states for God to be in. Not even conceptually! There is only God as happiness itself. There can only be God’s happy, graceful, loving, wrath (which is God himself, in case you forgot). Thus, there will be no difference between a simple God’s state “prior” to his forgiveness of me and his state “when” he has forgiven me, even using temporal notions non-literally. And thus, the defender of DS seems forced to reject at least one of the following claims, which I will call the Five Ways (Out):

1. God is wrathful towards unrepentant sinners.
2. God is not wrathful towards repentant sinners.
3. God is not at peace with unrepentant sinners.
4. God is at peace with repentant sinners.
5. We can say that God forgives repentant sinners.

Claims 1-4 would be the move by someone who thinks one need not have any negative evaluation of someone at any point in the forgiving process, or else that one may still feel negatively towards someone after forgiving them (discounting human deficiencies; this is God we’re talking about). Rejecting (1) is unlikely to be a popular move, as it is the express statement of a prophet of the Lord (John 3:36). Rejecting (2), and so affirming that God is wrathful towards repentant sinners, may sit well with the Calvinist but not with normal Christians, as we are not under God’s condemnation (John 3:18). Rejecting (3) is unwise as well, since it is by faith that we gain peace with God (Romans 5:1). If I had peace with God before I repented, then I lose my grasp on just what repentance is supposed to do. Rejecting (4), by my lights, provides strong motivation to stay in my sin, or otherwise to not want the “peace” that 2 John 3 says will be with us from God.

            That leaves (5) as the only way out. The classical theist can say that God does something,^[19] but whatever it is, it cannot include forgiveness. I will leave it to the classical theist to make the case that we still have a gospel if we cannot say that God forgives repentant sinners.

            Ok, there is, technically, a sixth Way. In theory, the classical theist could just say that forgiveness need not involve distinct states for the forgiver to be in, and thus they would reject how I define forgiveness. This will come at a cost, though, namely the cost of intuition. I find it a highly non-intuitive account of forgiveness that says that I can be forgiven by a God who feels the exact same way about me having forgiven me as he does without having forgiven me.

The End of The Matter

            I think I have shown that all four distinctives of classical theism run directly counter to the crucial claim of Christianity that God forgives sinners. Thus, I can only call divine simplicity an “own goal” in theology, just like timelessness. The view is difficult, if not impossible, to even be made coherent. By my lights, the classical distinctives make gibberish out of Christian theology and are among the biggest mistakes in all of church history.

So, why in the world would any person hold on to their divine simplicity? I think Dr. William Hasker expressed my thoughts well when he wrote:

“Many of us, I believe, encountered our first philosophically serious theism in the writings of eternalist theologians such as Augustine and Aquinas–not to mention C.S. Lewis! As a result, the eternalist conception of God became incorporated into our thinking and belief at a rather deep level.

            But many of us have also found our philosophical home in the analytical tradition. And it is simply a fact that the habits of thought engendered by that tradition are not particularly congenial to the theory of divine timelessness.”^[20]

            The sentiment holds, I think, for classical theism in general. And I don’t mean to say that tradition is THE reason why anyone holds to it; classical theists do have their arguments. But there is something comfortable about tradition, to be sure. It is a nice feeling to know that one has centuries of great theologians agreeing with them. I certainly don’t want to give anyone the impression that I have no respect for the classical tradition and just want to be “freed” from its “shackles” like an angsty new atheist. Far from it; I respect the tradition enough to study it and take it seriously. I love tradition, and I greatly enjoy reading such luminaries as Athanasius the Great, Boethius, and John of Damascus, despite their mistakes. I smile at the thought of meeting them in the Resurrection (and winning arguments with them). But, I cannot shake the hold that the “analytical tradition” has on me.

            Regardless of your tradition, pursue truth.^[21]

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^[1] This is not a response to Jordan Ferrier’s article.

^[2] Some make claims like that simplicity is the only way in which one can be a monotheist, or the only way that one can say that God is necessary. Such claims I consider to be not worth taking seriously.

^[3]William Hasker, in Jeffrey Jordan (ed.), Philosophy of Religion: The Key Thinkers, 14: “About simplicity I have little to say, since those who defend the doctrine can’t seem to agree on exactly what it means. To be sure, God is not assembled out of parts; that much is agreed upon by all. The doctrine of divine simplicity, however, is supposed to mean a great deal more than this, but what that ‘more’ is remains in contention, so it is best to refrain from criticizing until there is a clear target for the criticism.”

^[4] Fleshing out the difference here is beyond the scope of this article. In short, simplicity trades on a view of metaphysics in which a thing’s parts include the properties or attributes it possesses. The properties are a proper part of the actual object. For example, the property of redness is a part of a red ball on this view.

^[5] Dolezal, James E. God without parts: Simplicity and the metaphysics of divine absoluteness. Westminster Theological Seminary, 2011, 2.

^[6] John Duns Scotus, A Treatise on God as First Principle 4.84. How this is compatible with the Trinity is not clear.

^[7] Anselm, On the Incarnation of The Word, VII. Anselm rejects even conceptual distinctions applied to God. Thus, one cannot conceive of God plus an attribute; there is only the divine substance. “Therefore, the being of God and the being of his power are the same.”

^[8] Edward Feser, Five Proofs of the Existence of God, 30-31 (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2017). (And many other places.) Potentiality/actuality is merely the difference between the way the thing is and could otherwise be. For example, I am not a father, but I have the potential to be a father.

^[9] This is where a key assumption comes into play. Many ancient thinkers held that something that has parts has been assembled out of those parts; that is, that the thing would then depend on the parts for its existence. The extent to which you think this assumption is plausible is the extent to which you will feel the force of some arguments for simplicity.

^[10] Apophaticism, or via negativa (way of negation) is the belief that we can only speak of what God is not, rather than what he is. This is a very mystical tradition that prides itself on not actually knowing anything about God himself.

^[11] https://www.reasonablefaith.org/videos/other-videos/the-modal-collapse-objection-to-divine-simplicity

^[12] Alvin Plantinga, Does God Have a Nature? (Milwaukee: Marquette University Press, 1980). At least, if one accepts simplicity as Dolezal defines it.

^[13] For example, Richard Swinburne, in The Christian God (1994) 160-163, wants to endorse DS. However, I have a difficult time calling his view DS, as he rejects how medieval thinkers expounded it, believes that God is temporal, and is an open theist. Not very classical of him.

^[14] Augustine, De Trinitate VI.8

^[15] John Duns Scotus, A Treatise on God as First Principle 4.84

^[16] Lombard, Sentences I Dist. XXX.1, as in Mullins, The End of The Timeless God, 118-119.

^[17] An illustration: I am currently thinking about Will and Brian. Thus, I am really related to them by the relation “thinking about”. But (so the thinking goes) Will and Brian are not really related to me, not even by the relation “being thought about”. Their relation to me is thus a relation of reason; it is only in my apprehension of them.

^[18] Here I have in mind the concept of a logical moment in contrast to a temporal moment.

^[19] But since God has only one act which is identical to himself, which is unknowable to us, this means that we can’t know what it is.

^[20] William Hasker, God, Time, and Knowledge, 180-181.

^[21] Thanks to Travis Pelletier, Mariah Woolley, and Dr. RT Mullins for looking over prior editions of this and for the helpful feedback.

By David Pallmann

Introduction

The debate among Christians over whether or not a believer may forfeit his faith and, consequently, lose his salvation has been raging since the Reformation. There are a plethora of relevant biblical passages on both sides of this debate and I cannot possibly examine them all in this article. Instead, I shall restrict myself to examining two relevant passages from the book of Hebrews. As will become clear, these passages are two of the most controversial in the New Testament because they appear to give clear testimony that believers can indeed fall away from the faith. Defenders of the doctrine of eternal security (the idea that a genuine believer will never lose his salvation) have a number of ingenious readings of these passages. This article will examine these readings in detail and argue that they are not defensible. The conclusion will be that Hebrews 6:4-6 and 10:26-29 do indeed support the Arminian doctrine that genuine Christians may abandon the faith and lose their salvation.

Setting the Stage

The book of Hebrews is written to Jewish Christians. The recipients of the letter appear to be facing severe persecution because of their Christian faith and, as a result, they are facing pressure to return to Judaism.[1] One of the author’s[2] major themes is the superiority of Christ as a priest and sacrifice over and against the Levitical priesthood and the sacrifices conducted under it. This theme of Christ’s superiority functions as an argument for why these Jewish Christians ought to retain their Christian faith and should not return to Judaism. The author is concerned that that the persecution his readers face will cause them to leave Christ, and this is the very reason he is writing. As such, apostasy is literally a theme of the book Hebrews. Affirmation of eternal security, then, does not merely constitute a denial of a few texts found scattered throughout Hebrews. It actually constitutes a denial of the very thesis of the book.

A defining feature of the book of Hebrews is the presence of numerous warnings throughout. These warnings vary in terms of their severity. Some of the less severe warnings can be found in 2:1-3, 3:6, 3:12-14, and 4:1. But in this article, we will concern ourselves with the two strongest warnings found in 6:4-6 and 10:26-29.

Hebrews 6:4-6 in Context

Chapter 6 begins with the author proposing a solution to a problem which he has been detailing since 5:11. The author has just finished explaining that Jesus is a high priest “after the order of Melchisedec.” Suddenly he changes his tone, and says that the things he wishes to impart to his readers about Jesus are difficult for him to say because his audience is not yet mature enough to receive them. He gently rebukes his audience for their spiritual immaturity throughout the remainder of chapter 5. He tells them that by now they should be matured beyond the point at which they are currently at spiritually. They should have a deeper understanding of the things of God even to the point that they should be able to teach others. Chapter 6 is continuing in this line of thought. The author says, “Therefore leaving the principles of the doctrine of Christ, let us go on unto perfection; not laying again the foundation of repentance from dead works, and of faith toward God.” This is an exhortation for them to move on to maturity. This follows from the immediate context and is not controversial. He continues by saying, “Of the doctrine of baptisms, and of laying on of

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[1] William Lane, Hebrews: A Call to Commitment, Pg. 25

[2] I use the vague term “the author” because the author of the book of Hebrews is unknown.

hands, and of resurrection of the dead, and of eternal judgment.” Here the author is listing specific doctrines that his audience should understand by now. In 6:3 the author goes on to say “And this will we do, if God permit.” The question arises at this point as to why God would not allow someone to move beyond these rudimentary doctrines. Why would God not permit a believer to go on to maturity? The author answers this question in the next three verses. These verses are the most controversial in the book of Hebrews (if not the entire New Testament) and they are verses with which we will will be concerned.

The author writes, “For in the case of those who have once been enlightened and have tasted of the heavenly gift and have been made partakers of the Holy Spirit, and have tasted the good word of God and the powers of the age to come, and then have fallen away, it is impossible to renew them again to repentance, since they again crucify to themselves the Son of God and put Him to open shame.”

The Case Against Eternal Security

In order for Hebrews 6:4-6 to give evidence against eternal security, we must establish two things:

1. That the passage is indeed describing believers.
2. That the “falling away” refers to loss of salvation.

Let us first turn the question of whether or not believers are in view. As already noted, Hebrews 6:4-6 appears within the middle of a discussion exhorting the readers to go on to maturity. This is important because it forms the context for the warning. Since obviously unbelievers are not being exhorted to go on to maturity, it is evident that the warning appears within a section which is addressed to genuine Christians. Defenders of eternal security acknowledge this, but they point out that there must have been some unbelievers within the community. James White argues, “The book of Hebrews is written to all who are a part of that fellowship — including non-believers, some of whom were simply not completely convinced of the superiority of Christ over the old law, others who were quite simply hypocrites. The warnings that are provided are needed since we, as human beings, cannot see into the hearts of all men.”[1]

Leaving aside the issue that it makes no sense to warn people who, as James White believes, have been unconditionally predestined for either heaven or hell, White’s argument falls short. While it is quite true that there were probably some false converts within the church, this does not touch the argument against eternal security. The argument is that the specific descriptive terms used in 6:4-6 can only be properly applied to genuine believers. A general reference to the fact that there may have unbelievers within the congregation does not explain how unbelievers can properly be said to have been enlightened, tasted of the heavenly gift, become partakers with the Holy Spirit, and so on. Any serious interpretation of this passage which wishes to maintain that unbelievers are being warned needs to seriously grapple with these descriptions. So let us take a closer look at these descriptions, and see if they can be reasonably applied to unbelievers.

Enlightened First, they are said to have been “enlightened.” If the meaning of a word in Scripture is ever unclear, it is always advisable to see how the word is used elsewhere by the same author. Fortunately, the author uses the word again in 10:32-33. Here he writes, “But remember the former days, when, after being enlightened, you endured a great conflict of sufferings, partly

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[1] James R. White, God’s Sovereign Grace, Pg. 156

by being made a public spectacle through reproaches and tribulations, and partly by becoming sharers with those who were so treated.” The enlightenment described here seems to be a reference to conversion. Remember that the author is addressing persecuted Christians (he addresses the recipients of this specific statement as brethren in 10:19). In this passage he directly connects their suffering to this enlightenment. Since the persecution was taking place as a direct result of their faith in Christ, it seems that “enlightened” is a synonym for salvation here.

It has been suggested that “enlightened” could simply refer to being made aware of the gospel. John Lennox argues for such a reading saying, “John speaks of the Word as the true light which enlightens everyone (see John 1:9). Nowhere does Scripture teach that everyone will be saved – indeed, the contrary is the case. Hence it turns out that to be enlightened is not the same as to be saved.”[1] Now it should first be noted that Lennox’s interpretation is not available to the Calvinist. Calvinists hold that people are unable to understand the gospel prior to regeneration based on their interpretation of 1 Corinthians 2:14. But is this even a possible interpretation for the non-Calvinist? Well, we have two possible meanings for the word “enlightened.” Based on John 1:9 it could refer to a mere intellectual understanding, or based on Hebrews 10:32 it could refer to salvation. In their excellent introduction to biblical interpretation, Klein, Blomberg, and Hubbard remind us that “Word-uses closer to the passage under study have greater weight than word-uses at the periphery. So how the author uses the word in the same book has more relevance than how the author uses the same words in other books. From there, we would consider how other authors in the same testament use the words.”[2] So why is Lennox giving priority to how the word is used in the Gospel of John over how the author of Hebrews himself uses the word? The only reason for this would be that he has already presupposed that the truth of eternal security. But speaking exegetically, the Arminian reading is the more likely.

Tasted the Heavenly Gift

Second, these people are said to have “tasted the heavenly gift.” First, we should ask what the heavenly gift refers to? It would seem reasonable to see the heavenly gift as equivalent to the gift of God which is repeatedly identified as salvation in Scripture (Eph 2:8-9, Rom 6:23, 2 Cor 9:15, John 4:10). It is difficult to see what else could rightly be called the gift of God.

Sometimes believers in eternal security will try to suggest that the word “tasted” means to have merely nibbled or sampled. But this seems unlikely in view of how the same word is used in Hebrews 2:9 where the author says that Christ “might taste death for everyone.” Obviously Jesus did not merely sample or nibble at death. Christ fully experienced death. F. Leroy Forlines says, “It is my position that the word taste is one of the strongest words that could have been used. In tasting, there is always a consciousness of the presence of that which has been tasted.”[3] Thus, we should understand the phrase “tasted of the heavenly gift” as saying “fully experienced the salvation of God.”

Partakers With the Holy Spirit Third, these people are described as having been made partakers with the Holy Spirit. This is, perhaps, the most difficult description for defenders of eternal security to get around. Some have tried to say that this merely means that the apostates have been influenced by the Holy Spirit. But this is not a possible meaning for the word used here. The Greek word translated as “partakers” is metochos and it means to be a participant, an associate, or a

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[1] John C. Lennox, Determined to Believe?, Pg. 342

[2] William W. Klein, Craig L. Blomberg, and Robert L. Hubbard Jr., Introduction to Biblical Interpretation, Pg. 196

[3] F. Leroy Forlines, Classical Arminianism, Pg. 316

partner. All of these terms require a real connection with the Holy Spirit. This conclusion is further strengthened by an examination of how the word “partaker” is used throughout Hebrews. Not only does the term always denote a full participation, but it is also used exclusively of believers.

Consider these passages:

“Therefore, holy brethren, partakers of a heavenly calling, consider Jesus, the Apostle and High Priest of our confession.” (3:1) Since the term “brethren” is used here, it is clear that the partakers are believers.

“For we have become partakers of Christ, if we hold fast the beginning of our assurance firm until the end.” (3:14) This verse is interesting. According to the doctrine of the Trinity, Christ and the Holy Spirit are both equally God. It would be extremely implausible for the defender of eternal security to suggest that one can be a partaker with the Holy Spirit without being saved while at the same time not being a partaker with Christ.

“It is for discipline that you endure; God deals with you as with sons; for what son is there whom his father does not discipline? But if you are without discipline, of which all have become partakers, then you are illegitimate children and not sons.” (12:7-8) This last example is striking. Being a partaker of discipline is actually said to be the distinguishing characteristic of God’s children.

And if all of that were not enough, the fact that unbelievers actually cannot be partakers of the Holy Spirit is the final nail in the coffin of anyone seeking to believe that this phrase describes unbelievers. Romans 8:9 says, “However, you are not in the flesh but in the Spirit, if indeed the Spirit of God dwells in you. But if anyone does not have the Spirit of Christ, he does not belong to Him.” John 14:17 is even more explicit saying, “That is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it does not see Him or know Him, but you know Him because He abides with you and will be in you.” These verses make it impossible to regard a partaker with the Holy Spirit as an unsaved person. Unbelievers cannot receive the Holy Spirit nor can He dwell in them. Indeed, these passages indicate that the unbeliever is totally alien from the Holy Spirit. BJ Oropeza hits the nail on the head. “They also ‘shared in the holy Spirit’ … a thought that comes close to the mystical union of sharing in relationship with Christ (cf. 3:1, 14). Here the focus may be on the Spirit’s relationship, communion, and solidarity with believers, an early Christian hallmark for determining conversion-initiation, new life, and sanctification … There is in fact no passage in the New Testament that affirms unbelievers or fake Christians having a share in the Holy Spirit.”[1]

Tasted the Good Word of God

Although less conclusive than the first three descriptions, the statement, “have tasted the good word of God and the powers of the age to come” seems to also describe genuine believers. As we have seen, “tasted” refers to a full experience. The good word of God is likely a reference to the gospel, though it could also refer to Christ (John 1:1). The powers of the age to come is plausibly a reference to the spiritual gifts. If so, then this strengthens the conclusion that believers are being described since the spiritual gifts were bestowed upon believers. Aside from the evidence we have already considered, all of the descriptive terms are in the aorist tense and denote completed actions. The fact that the author chose to describe these apostates with aorists suggests that he intended to describe a full experience rather than coming close to one. Even more significant is the fact that the author gives absolutely no indication whatsoever that he intends for these people to be understood as being unsaved. At some point we have to ask the question, why doesn’t the author just say that these apostates

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[1] BJ Oropeza, Churches Under Siege of Persecution and Assimilation, Pg. 35-36

were really close to being saved if that’s what he had meant to convey? It seems much more likely that the real reason eternal security theorists try so hard to prove that these terms don’t conclusively describe salvation is because their theology demands it. The author of Hebrews himself most assuredly offers no such qualifier. Oropeza reminds us, “There is little reason for the author to bother compiling an entire list of salvific blessings described in 6:1-4 if he were intending to communicate to his audience that these people were inauthentic believers. … Perhaps the author wants to affirm by the compilation of these participles in 6:4-6 that he is not referring to this type of half-hearted churchgoer, but to those who had unmistakably been converted. … Our author presents this passage, then, as part of his effort to shake the audience free from their spiritual dullness.[1]

And Have Fallen Away

It is my considered opinion that the evidence against viewing these apostates as being “almost saved” is decisive. So, we turn to the question, what does the falling away refer to? There are several reasons to believe this falling away refers to losing one’s salvation. In the first place, the falling away seems to parallel the drifting away in 2:1. I am convinced that a careful examination of the language in 2:1 will show that this is a reference to drifting away from salvation. If the passages are parallel, then it would be reasonable to infer that the falling away here is also from salvation. Second, it is said that the apostate cannot be brought back again to repentance. This is significant. Repentance is a condition for salvation (Luke 13:3). Since, repentance is what they cannot be brought back to, it would seem that this is also what they fell from. Moreover, the author says that they can’t be brought to repentance again. The presence of the word “again” means that they had already repented previously. After all, you can’t be brought back to something if you haven’t already done it!

Wayne Grudem tries to argue that this repentance was not salvific. He argues that repentance can merely refer to sorrow over sins. But in the first place, merely suggesting that “repentance” can mean “sorrow” as a possibility does not prove that this is, in fact, what is meant here. More importantly, the context refutes this idea. In verse 1, the author described the type of repentance he had in mind saying, “Therefore leaving the elementary teaching about the Christ, let us press on to maturity, not laying again a foundation of repentance from dead works and of faith toward God.” There is a to-from relationship between faith and repentance in Scripture. As Forlines says, “While repentance includes a ‘from’ and a ‘to,’ the stress of repentance is on the to instead of the from. Repentance is a forward moving word. … To exercise faith implies a change from unbelief, whatever the from of unbelief may be. Repentance terminates in faith. If we tell a person to repent, or if we tell him to believe, we are telling him to do the same thing. Repent stresses that change is involved. Faith stresses the end to which change is directed.”[2] Thus contextually, the repentance that these apostates have fallen from is the reverse side of faith. It is not mere sorrow as some would like to suppose. Further evidence that this falling was from salvation is seen in the reason the author gives for the impossibility of their restoration. He writes, “It is impossible to renew them again to repentance, since they again crucify to themselves the Son of God and put Him to open shame.” What is meant by crucifying the Son of God to oneself? It seems that to crucify something to yourself, in the New Testament, refers to a total rejection of something. Consider Paul’s words in Galatians 6:14. “But may it never be that I would boast, except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, through which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world.” Here, Paul’s reference to crucifying the world to himself obviously means total alienation. Thus, it would be entirely reasonable to see the reference to crucifying Christ to

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[1] BJ Oropeza, Churches Under Siege of Persecution and Assimilation, Pg. 37

[2] F. Leroy Forlines, The Quest for Truth, Pg. 254-255

oneself in 6:6 as a reference to alienating oneself from God. Moreover, notice that the author says that they are crucifying Christ to themselves again. The word “again” suggests that this had already happened once. This further supports my thesis that these people had already been saved since, if they were never saved to begin with, then they would have always been alienated from Christ and thus the presence of the word “again” would be misleading. As Forlines says, “Let us note that this is a crucifixion in relationship, that is, to themselves. … The relationship of Christ to the unsaved is that of a dead Christ; but to the saved, He is a living Christ. A person could not crucify to himself the Son of God afresh unless he were in a living relationship to Him. Therefore, such could only be committed by a saved person.”[1]

Lastly, the final end of the apostates is to be burned according to Hebrews 6:8. This seems to be an obvious reference to hell. Since I have already established that these apostates were saved at one time, for their final end to be hell would require that the falling away is a reference to losing salvation.

Why Doesn’t It Say “Saved”?

Having, therefore, set forth a detailed case for the Arminian position, let us proceed to answer some objections from believers in eternal security. There is a common humbug among defenders of eternal security that the author of Hebrews doesn’t actually use the word “saved” to describe these individuals. While, of course, this is true, the objection carries little weight. The book of Hebrews, and indeed, the entire New Testament, uses a wide variety of terms to describe the believer besides “saved.” It is simply not reasonable to demand that this exact word be used each and every time believers are being described. The descriptions we do have are sufficient to establish that genuine believers are in view.

Robert Shank puts this rather colorfully, “We must … concede that it is not here said of them that they ever asked, “What must I do to be saved?” or that they ever prayed, “God be merciful to me a sinner.” Nor is it said of them that they had called upon the name of the Lord, or that that they had believed in their hearts, or that they had confessed with their mouths. … We must concede that many, many things “are not said of them” in the passage before us. But then, one cannot say everything in such brief compass. What the writer did say of them can be said only of men who have experienced the saving grace of God in Christ.”[2]

A Hypothetical Warning? Given the force of the arguments in favor of viewing these apostates as once being saved individuals, many believers in eternal security have tried to argue that this passage is merely hypothetical. Unfortunately, some translations such as the KJV do give the misleading impression that this could be hypothetical by rendering the verse as saying, “if they be fallen away.” But there is no “if” in the Greek. This word is supplied by the translators. We may concede that is possible that this passage is not describing actual people and merely warning what will happen if one falls away. But if this is the case, we must make a distinction between an actual hypothetical and a mere hypothetical. Remember, hypotheticals often describe what may truly come to pass. And since this passage is offered as a warning, it presupposes that this hypothetical is a real possibility. Anyone who wants to say that these verses describe a mere hypothetical, that is, a hypothetical which could never become a reality, clearly bears the burden of proof. But we might justifiably ask, is this even a hypothetical at all? Given the presence of the aorists, which denote completed actions, it seems more likely that the author is describing actual apostates and using them as an example. As Shank notes, “Instead of assuming that the apostasy which engulfed ‘them’ cannot overtake ‘you’, the writer holds them up before ‘you’ as a tragic example for their solemn

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[1] F. Leroy Forlines, Classical Arminianism, Pg. 318

[2] Robert Shank, Life in the Son, Pg. 228-229

warning and proceeds earnestly to exhort his readers, ‘And we desire that every one of you do show the same diligence to the full assurance of hope unto the end; that ye be not slothful, but followers of them who through faith and patience inherit the promises.’”[1]

Moreover, there is a theological problem with this hypothetical interpretation. As Stanley Outlaw notes, “Of all the views listed, this approach (hypothetical) may be the worst with regard to the integrity of Scripture. It suggests that we cannot always take seriously God’s warnings, that He may actually be playing games with us. It appears to make God operate on the premise: ‘What they don’t know won’t hurt them.’ … This view is worthy of nothing more than to be tagged as a cop-out, a trumped-up explanation contrived to avoid the obvious truth of this passage of Scripture.”[2]

But eternal security theorists will still protest that in verse 9, the author expresses confidence that his readers will persevere. They reason that verses 4-6 cannot be describing genuine believers losing their salvation since the writer does not include his readers among them. However, this argument seems to overlook the fact that the author doesn’t count his readers among the apostates only after they have fallen away. To say that this description could not be true of the readers makes one wonder why the author included it as a warning. Robert Shank responds by saying, “Some appeal to verse 9…to contend that such apostasy cannot actually occur. But they fail to reckon with the transition from the third person (‘those, they, them’) in verses 4-6 to the second person (‘you’) in verse 9. The writer is ‘persuaded of better things of you,’ but not of ‘them.’ While he is persuaded that ‘you’ have not as yet apostatized, he declares that ‘they’ indeed have done so.”[3]

Loss of Rewards?

Realizing the futility of denying that the apostates were saved, some have tried to argue that the passage merely describes a loss of rewards. David Allen defends this view saying, “These are genuine believers who are in danger of forfeiting some new covenant blessings in this life as well as rewards at the Judgment seat of Christ.”[4]Allen focuses on the fact that a reward is in view in 6:7. However, as Frederick Claybrook points out, “He does not speak of blessings (plural) … but blessing (singular), that is, the eternal blessing of everlasting life. In contract, land that produces thorns and thistles is in danger of being cursed” (v. 8). Those who are cursed will not inherit eternal life (cf. II Peter 2:14).”[5]

Allen’s view that this loss refers exclusively to rewards simply cannot account for two factors. First, as we have seen, the falling away is from salvific repentance. While this most assuredly will result in a loss of any rewards one may have received, it also results in loss of salvation since repentance is a condition for salvation. Second, Allen’s view simply does not take the descriptions of judgement seriously. In verse 8, the author describes the end of these apostates as being burned – a term which would most naturally be taken as a reference to hell. As Grant Osborne notes, “To think this represents merely loss of rewards is virtually impossible because the language is much too strong.”[6] It is inconsistent to take the clear descriptions of believers in verses 4-6 literally while ignoring the clear language of damnation in verse 8. It is interesting to note that Allen does not reject the view that this passage is teaching apostasy for any strictly textual reason. He says, “The key weakness from the standpoint of the New Testament is the difficulty of explaining the plethora of passages that affirm the eternal security of the believer.”[7] It seems,

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[1] Robert Shank, Life in the Son, Pg. 177-178

[2] Stanley Outlaw, The Randall House Bible Commentary: Hebrews, Pg. 122

[3] Robert Shank, Life in the Son, Pg. 177-178

[4] David L. Allen, New American Commentary: Hebrews, Pg. 377

[5] Frederick W. Claybrook, Jr., Once Saved, Always Saved?, Pg. 36

[6] Grant R. Osborne, “A Classical Arminian View” in Four Views on the Warning Passages in Hebrews, Pg. 127

[7] David L. Allen, New American Commentary: Hebrews, Pg. 371

then, that Allen’s interpretation is determined by his prior commitment to eternal security than by sound exegesis. As Outlaw says, “Repentance is a condition of salvation, not a condition for rewards. If a person cannot repent, then he cannot meet one of the essential requirements for salvation. … The inability to repent surely means more than loss of rewards; it must be no less than eternal forfeiture of salvation.”[1]

Support For Eternal Security?

Some have tried to argue that the passage is merely saying that there is no need to repent again because it’s impossible to lose your salvation in the first place. In other words, the passage is interpreted as teaching that a backslidden Christian doesn’t need to repent again. Norman Geisler explains, “The very fact that it is ‘impossible’ for them to repent again indicates the once-for-all nature of repentance. In other words, they don’t need to repent again since they did it once and that is all that is needed for ‘eternal redemption.’”[2] Geisler’s interpretation is impossible on numerous levels.

In the first place the reason he gives for the impossibility of repenting again does not match the reason the author of Hebrews gives. According to Geisler, there is no need to repent again because one can’t lose their salvation. But according to verse 6, the reason for the impossibility is that the apostates are once again crucifying the Son of God and shaming Him. As we have seen, to crucify something to yourself means to totally repudiate it. So unlike Geisler’s very comforting interpretation, the author of Hebrews connects their inability to repent to their total rejection of Christ. This is not a mere description of backsliding.

Second, Geisler ignores the prior context of the warning. Remember, verses 4-6 are answering the question raised in verse 3, namely why wouldn’t a believer go on to maturity? Saying apostates can’t repent again because there is no need to repent again would hardly explain why God might not permit maturity.

Third, Geisler ignores the following context of the warning. In verse 9, the author says that he is persuaded of better things for his readers. In other words, the author does not consider this falling away to have happened of his audience. Does Geisler really think that none of the readers of Hebrews had ever backslidden? His interpretation would seem to require this absurd conclusion.

Fourth, and most damaging of all, Geisler ignores the fact that these people are said to be burned in the end. This is almost likely a reference to hell and therefore does not comport with his thesis that the passage merely teaches that a second repentance is unnecessary.

Proves Too Much?

Almost all defenders of eternal security argue that if this passage proves that salvation can be lost, then it proves too much for it seems to preclude an apostate ever being saved again. Charles Stanley says, “Unfortunately for those who do not believe in eternal security, these verses seem to go a step beyond what they believe. If the subject of these verses is salvation, believers who “fall away” can never be saved again! There is no second chance. In the author’s words, “It is impossible to renew them again to repentance.”[3] This argument appears with disturbing frequency. I shall not pursue the question of whether or not apostasy is permanent in this article. There are qualified scholars who argue for both positions.[4] My own study of the issue leads me to conclude that apostasy is indeed final and that apostates cannot be saved again. But this is entirely beside the point. Shouldn’t

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[1] Stanley Outlaw, The Randall House Bible Commentary: Hebrews, Pg. 123

[2] Norman Geisler, Chosen But Free, Pg. 130-131

[3] Charles Stanley, Eternal Security, Pg. 163

[4] Final: Forlines, Picirilli, Claybrook, Oropeza, Marshall, Outlaw; Not final: Shank, Abasciano, Cockerill, Wheadon, Dongell, Carter

we be trying to develop a theology that aligns with Scripture rather than saying a particular Scripture proves more than some Arminians believe? If the text is teaching that apostasy is final, then as Christians, that is what we should believe – popular opinion not withstanding.

A Counterexample?

Before moving on, we must examine the field illustration which immediately follows verses 4-6. Here, the author writes, “For ground that drinks the rain which often falls on it and brings forth vegetation useful to those for whose sake it is also tilled, receives a blessing from God; but if it yields thorns and thistles, it is worthless and close to being cursed, and it ends up being burned.” (6:7-8) Eternal security theorists will often use this illustration to support the idea that the apostates described in the preceding verses were never saved. They contend that because the field yielded thorns and thistles, the apostates must not have ever been believers. This is problematic for multiple reasons.

First, we should never interpret the clear through the unclear. Our interpretation of the clear language in 6:4-6 should govern our interpretation of the illustration of the field. To try to interpret the clear descriptive terms in 4-6 through an illustration is not wise.

Second, this argument seems to assume that there are two fields described in this illustration: one that bears fruit and another that bears thorns. But this is nowhere stated in the text. It more naturally reads as describing a single field which, at one time was fruitful, but eventually became hardened and thorny. This interpretation doesn’t make the arbitrary assumption that there are two fields, and more importantly, it coheres with the description of believers apostatizing in the earlier verses. It also coheres well with the warnings against hardening your heart found throughout the book (3:7, 8, 13, 15; 4:7).

Lastly, the illustration of the “righteous one” described in 10:35-38 parallels the field illustration. The passage reads, “Therefore, do not throw away your confidence, which has a great reward. For you have need of endurance, so that when you have done the will of God, you may receive what was promised. For yet in a very little while, He who is coming will come, and will not delay. But My righteous one shall live by faith; And if he shrinks back, My soul has no pleasure in him.” It is clear that the one who shrinks back is the same as the righteous one. Thus, we have every reason to believe that the fruitful field is the same as the one that ultimately grows thorns.

Hebrews 10:26-29

While Hebrews 6:4-6 is probably the most controversial warning in debates over eternal security, it is my opinion that Hebrews 10:26-29 is far more conclusive. The passage reads. “For if we go on sinning willfully after receiving the knowledge of the truth, there no longer remains a sacrifice for sins, but a terrifying expectation of judgment and the fury of a fire which will consume the adversaries. Anyone who has set aside the Law of Moses dies without mercy on the testimony of two or three witnesses. How much severer punishment do you think he will deserve who has trampled under foot the Son of God, and has regarded as unclean the blood of the covenant by which he was sanctified, and has insulted the Spirit of grace?” We should ask 1) Who is addressed? and 2) What happens to them? The text seems to clearly describe saved individuals. First, the author includes himself among those he is addressing by saying “if we go on sinning.” This suggests that he considered himself capable of committing this willful sin. The willful sin here is generally understood to be the same concern addressed throughout the book. So it can be seen as the same as the drifting or falling away in chapters 2 and 6. This sinning is said to happen after one receives the knowledge of the truth. Wayne Grudem tries to argue that this is merely a reference to hearing the gospel saying, “To “receive knowledge of the truth” simply means to hear and understand the gospel, and probably to give mental agreement or approval to it.”[1] However, the word here translated “knowledge” is epignosis and it means to have a full or complete knowledge of something. This is significant both because the New Testament uses it as a synonym for salvation (1 Tim 2:4) as well as because the author could have easily used the weaker Greek word gnōsis if he had wanted to convey merely intellectual knowledge. Grudem’s thesis is, therefore, unlikely in view of the author’s word choice here.

Sanctified by the Blood of Christ

The major problem for defenders of eternal security is that the apostate is said to have actually been sanctified by the blood of the covenant. While some try to say that this is a reference to the old covenant sacrifices, the context will not permit this. The author is comparing the judgment these apostates deserve with the judgment that violators under the old covenant deserved. As Oropeza says, “There is no other sacrifice for sin apart from Christ’s once-for-all sacrifice, and hence the apostate who rejects Christ cannot be brought back to restoration again even though such an individual was once sanctified. Apostasy is viewed as violating a greater covenant than that of Moses, and the defector can only expect a fearful retribution from God.”[2]

Most proponents of eternal security see this as being a covenantal or a ceremonial sanctification but not a salvific sanctification. But it is difficult to get a precise definition of what that really means let alone what role the blood of Christ plays in this sanctification. Grudem says, “The word sanctification need not refer to the internal moral purification that comes with salvation for the word hagiazō [sanctified] has a broader range than that both in Hebrews and in the New Testament generally.”[3] What Grudem says is true. Sanctification can refer to something other than salvation (1 Cor. 7:14 for example). However, this is just an appeal to the semantic range of the word. While it doesn’t have to refer to salvific sanctification, it normally does. Grudem must do better than merely appeal to another possible meaning. He needs to demonstrate that this is what is being communicated here. The fact that the author says that this sanctification was by the blood of Christ makes Grudem’s suggestion difficult to take seriously.

Grudem goes on to say, “The author is speaking of the fact that the congregation in general has a “new and living way” (10:20) available by the blood of Christ, and therefore can “enter the sanctuary” (10:19) and “draw near” (10:22) into God’s presence.”[4] Once the flowery language is cut away, Grudem’s suggestion would seem to be that this ceremonial sanctification means little more than going to Church and maybe vaguely experiencing the presence of God. The only role that the blood of Christ seems to play in this sanctification is that it makes such an experience possible. This thesis is incredibly weak just on the face of it. It fails to account both for how the author uses the term “sanctification” as well as for the severity of the offense. First, while Grudem is correct that the verses he is quoting are about assembling at church to enter God’s presence, he ignores the preceding context. Here it says, “This is the covenant that I will make with them… . “Their sins and their lawless deeds I will remember no more.” Now where there is forgiveness of these things, there is no longer any offering for sin. Therefore, brethren, since we have confidence to enter the holy place by the blood of Jesus, … let us draw near with a sincere heart in full assurance of faith.” (10:16-22) Notice that the ability to

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[1] Wayne Grudem, “Perseverance of the Saints: A Case Study from the Warning Passages in Hebrews” in Still Sovereign, Pg. 176

[2] BJ Oropeza, Churches Under Siege of Persecution and Assimilation, Pg. 69

[3] Wayne Grudem, “Perseverance of the Saints: A Case Study from the Warning Passages in Hebrews” in Still Sovereign, Pg. 177

[4] Ibid, Pg. 177-178

enter into God’s presence is directly tied to the fact that their sins have been forgiven. Since Grudem regards the apostates as having never been saved, he cannot say that they have been sanctified in such a way as to enable them to enter God’s presence but not in such a way that their sins have been forgiven. The author’s whole point in these verses is that because their sins have been forgiven, they can enter God’s presence. It seems, then that the author has salvific sanctification in mind.

This conclusion is strengthened by looking at verses 4 and 10. In 10:4, we read, “For it is impossible for the blood of bulls and goats to take away sins.” But then speaking of the work of Christ, “By this will we have been sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all.” (10:10) The whole point of this section is that even though the blood of animals cannot take away sins, the blood of Christ can. And the author uses the word “sanctified” to describe this event. This gives us every reason to see the sanctification in verse 29 as being salvific. The author recognizes only two types of sanctification. Old covenant sanctification which could not take away sins and new covenant sanctification which does. There is no reason to conjure up a third type of sanctification as Grudem wants to. Forlines reminds us, “The other references in the epistle in which the word sanctify is used are: 2:11; 9:13; 10:10, 14; 13:12. If the reader will examine these verses, he will find that each of these except 9:13 has reference to sanctification that accompanies salvation in the New Testament. If the writer of the epistle were going to use sanctification in an entirely different sense here, does it not seem reasonable that he would have made it clear when using it in connection with such a drastic warning?”[1]

Second, Grudem’s thesis fails to do justice to the severity of the language used here. How can simply going to church, and being outwardly considered a Christian, and then deciding to leave, be considered treading under foot the Son of God? And why should that be considered an insult to the Holy Spirit? Is this not exactly what a Calvinist like Grudem expects a false convert to do? Why is merely going to church, and then leaving, worthy of worse punishment than violating the law of Moses? Grudem’s hypothesis makes no sense and exists only because his prior commitment to eternal security demands it. There will always be a catch-22 here for anyone who maintains eternal security. If it is admitted that these people were saved, then we have clear evidence that someone can lose their salvation due to the clear language of fiery judgment. If it is denied that they were saved, then the gravity of their sin and the severity of their judgement will remain inexplicable.

Was Jesus Sanctified?

Realizing the futility of denying that the sanctification is salvific, some Calvinists posit that Jesus Christ Himself is the One who was sanctified by His own blood. Stanley Outlaw refers to this theory as “unworthy of consideration.”[2] Calvinists Robert Peterson and Michael Williams say that it is “contrived.”[3] Nonetheless, a few prominent Calvinist apologists actually put this view forward as a serious alternative to the view that this passage is simply describing the destruction of genuine apostates. James White takes this view, saying, “The error that is often made in regards to this passage is to understand “by which he was sanctified” to refer to the person who goes on sinning willfully against the blood of Christ… But remembering yet again the argument of the writer we see that the writer is referring to Christ as the one who is sanctified, set apart, shown to be holy, by his own sacrifice.”[4]

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[1] F. Leroy Forlines, Classical Arminianism, Pg. 320

[2] “A few commentators have tried to make “he was sanctified” refer to Christ … but this view is unworthy of consideration.” Stanley Outlaw, The Randall House Bible Commentary: Hebrews, Pg. 257

[3] “We reject as contrived John Owen’s idea that [this sanctification] refers to Christ.” Robert A. Peterson and Michael D. Williams, Why I am not an Arminian , Pg. 86

[4] James R. White, The Potter’s Freedom, Pg. 244-245

Let us first observe that Scripture in general, and Hebrews in particular, almost invariably presents sinners as being sanctified by Christ’s blood (Heb 10:14, 19, 22; 13:2; 2 Thess 2:13; 1 John 1:7; 1 Peter 1:1-2). But is there any merit in the idea that Christ Himself was sanctified by His own blood? There are only two verses that could be used to support this idea.

The first is Hebrews 9:11-12. “But when Christ appeared as a high priest of the good things to come, He entered through the greater and more perfect tabernacle, not made with hands, that is to say, not of this creation; and not through the blood of goats and calves, but through His own blood, He entered the holy place once for all, having obtained eternal redemption.” The phrase “through his own blood” is where evidence is seen that Christ was sanctified by His own blood. But clearly the text doesn’t say this. It only says that His own blood was the means by which entered the holy place and thereby purchased redemption. To say that Jesus was somehow sanctified by this purchase reads more into the text than it says. Moreover, this interpretation becomes impossible when one considers the context. Verse 7 makes it clear that the author is contrasting Jesus’ work as a priest with the work of the Levitical high priest. The priests under old covenant had to offer a sacrifice to cleanse both themselves and the people. But Christ had no need of a personal cleansing. Rather than entering the Holy of Holies with the blood of animals, He enters through His own blood. 9:14 is clear that the blood is for the purpose of cleansing sinners. Moreover, it says Christ was “without blemish” before the crucifixion indicating that He, Himself, needed no cleansing. Hebrews 7:26-27 is especially difficult for anyone wanting to suggest that Christ had to be sanctified. “For it was fitting that we should have such a high priest, holy, innocent, undefiled, separated from sinners and exalted above the heavens; who does not need daily, like those high priests, to offer up sacrifices, first for His own sins, and then for the sins of the people, because this He did once for all when He offered up Himself.” To suggest that Jesus needed a personal sanctification prior to His atonement for sins would violate the all-important message of this text, namely that Jesus was a better high priest because he needed no sanctification.

The other verse that could potentially be used to support this idea is John 17:19. The verse reads “For their sakes I sanctify Myself, that they themselves also may be sanctified in truth.” This is the only reference to Jesus being sanctified in the New Testament. But it doesn’t support White’s thesis because Jesus is not said to have been sanctified by His own blood. Indeed, this sanctification has little to do with the sort of sanctification discussed in Hebrews. The context of the passage makes clear that this sanctification or setting apart, was for the purpose of being witnesses of the Gospel. It is about being set apart from the world, and consecrated for a mission. It has nothing to do with the cleansing power of the blood of Christ. Indeed, the very idea that one can be sanctified by their own blood seems to undermine the very logic behind sanctification. The whole reason one needs to be sanctified by the blood of another is because one is sinful and therefore unacceptable. For someone to be sanctified by their own blood would imply that the person was already impure and that their own blood was therefore incapable of cleansing anyone. Since Christ was always holy, what need is there for Him to be sanctified? Ben Henshaw rightly observes, “We may find it disturbing to accept the possibility that one truly cleansed by Christ’s blood can yet apostatize and perish eternally, but we should be far more disturbed by any interpretation that seeks to make the holy and blameless Lamb of God in need of purification by His own blood.”[1]

Conclusion

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[1] Ben Henshaw, “Perseverance of the Saints Part 7: Who is Sanctified in Hebrews 10:29?” https://arminianperspectives.wordpress.com/2008/04/03/perseverance-of-the-saints-part-7-who-is-sanctified-in-hebrews-1029/

In conclusion, the warnings in Hebrews are strong and powerful. Attempts to say that they are not directed towards believers in danger of losing their salvation cannot be sustained by sound exegesis. Based on Hebrews 6:4-6 and 10:26-29, it seems reasonable to conclude that the author believed that the apostasy of a genuine believer was a real and ever present danger. Therefore, it should remain a danger for those who desire to take Scripture seriously. As believers we would do well to apply such warnings to ourselves, using them as a motivation to hold fast our conviction and move ever onwards in our spiritual maturity.

by Chris Stockman

I was sitting in church this past Sunday as we were saying the Lord’s Prayer, and began thinking about forgiveness and God’s relationship to time, as one does. Suddenly a thought popped into my head that I couldn’t shake. This article is the expansion of that thought. I propose the following for your consideration, as I believe that this is a question very much worth thinking about. This is intended to get the average person in the pew thinking. As a layperson myself, I want to see lay people putting some careful thought into what they are saying about God. The concepts talked about here have been at the forefront of theologians’ navel gazing for millennia, but I think I’ve done what I can to bring out the most significant aspects of them and avoid getting too far into the weeds.

I’ve heard someone say that God is timeless many, many times. From the pulpit, in casual conversation as an item that is taken for granted, etc. It’s one of those things that people think is the pious thing to say, and it’s a staple of what’s called classical theism. If you believe in classical theism, you are in good company, since nearly all of the most influential thinkers in the history of Christianity (Augustine, John of Damascus, Anselm, Aquinas, etc.) have been classical theists. But I would bet a lot that nearly all people today who share their beliefs about God and time (let’s call them atemporalists) have no idea what they actually entail. They certainly do not share some of the philosophical assumptions undergirding classical theism.

First let’s define timelessness. This is not as easy as one may think, since atemporalists are not always forthcoming with what they mean by their claims. Dr. R.T. Mullins (of The Reluctant Theologian Podcast fame) is a great one-stop shop for all things time. He defines timelessness as such:

“God is timeless if and only if God necessarily exists without beginning, without end, without succession, without temporal location, and without temporal extension.”^[1]

Every theist believes God has no beginning or end. The point of being “without succession” is what I am most interested in at the moment. In order to get very far beyond this point, we need to know what time is, otherwise to say that God is timeless (or not) isn’t saying anything. This is also very difficult, as, while many philosophers are quick to define their view of the ontology of time (what times are real) and of the flow of time, they have an unfortunate aversion to telling anyone what time actually is. So you believe only the present moment is real; that’s nice, but what is that? St. Augustine famously wrote in Confessions that he knows what time is until someone asks him about it.^[2] Thanks for nothing, Augustine.

Few have a coherent notion of what time is. There are broadly two views: a relational theory in which time exists only if change exists, and an absolute theory in which time is a definite thing that has a particular nature; it exists with or without change. I favor the latter for reasons beyond the scope of this article. Time is, basically, something that makes change possible.^[3] (There is a more full definition, but this will suffice for present purposes.) The doctrine of timelessness then, regardless of absolutism or relationalism, has some rather disturbing implications.

Here’s one: God cannot forgive you.

Now, before you classical theists go running to Thomas Aquinas or John of Damascus to save you, hear me out. (Then you can go running to Thomas Aquinas or John of Damascus.) Think about it. What is forgiveness? Someone wrongs you, and then, assuming they feel remorse (or if they don’t, but for present purposes assume they do), they apologize and ask for your forgiveness. You are feeling indignation or at least have some negative evaluation of the other person. But in response to someone asking for your forgiveness, or due to some consideration of what the ethical thing to do is, you forgive them. Your forgiveness involves you changing your evaluation of the person, and you no longer hold their offensive action towards you against them. A relationship that was broken or nonexistent is now restored or being built. I do not mean to suggest that this is all forgiveness involves. But I think I am on safe ground in asserting that this is part of the picture.

Now consider what shakes out from rejecting that God is temporal. By the offered definition of time, God is then unable to change. This is the doctrine of immutability, the belief that God cannot undergo any changes. This is frequently misunderstood even by advocates of timelessness, so it is worth stating more emphatically: God is not able to change in any way, no matter what change is being talked about. William Lane Craig writes of immutability: “God cannot change in any respect. He never thinks successive thoughts, He never performs successive actions, He never undergoes even the most trivial alteration…He cannot even change extrinsically by being related to changing things.”^[4] This is a big one, since many classical theists (on the internet, not scholars as far as I am aware) think that their view of God is compatible with a particular type of change. (More on that later.) If one admits change into the life of God, that is introducing time into his life. Mullins again notes that “Any kind of change that a being undergoes will be sufficient for that being to be temporal as it will create a before and after in the life of that being.”^[5]

So can a timeless, changeless God forgive you? Well, forgiveness involves changing your evaluation of another person in response to their apology. Your disposition towards another person is different. There is a difference in the forgiver. There has been a change in their mental state and emotional life. Applied to God, there was a state of affairs in which God had a negative evaluation of you due to your sin against him, and upon forgiving you there is now a state of affairs in which he has a positive evaluation of you (due to being placed in Christ).^[6] If it is metaphysically impossible for God to change, then it is metaphysically impossible for him to change his evaluation of you. Thus, from the perspective of a timeless God, you are unforgivable.

But it gets worse. There is another core claim that classical theists hold dear: impassibility. As with time, saying God is impassible isn’t saying anything unless we know what a passion is. This one is more controversial to define (with some characterizing it as God not experiencing any emotions), but it is held by some to be the claim that God cannot be acted upon and that there cannot be a disturbance in the For-I mean God’s eternal bliss, and that God cannot be affected by any considerations outside of himself. St. John of Damascus (675-749) called a passion “…a sensible activity of the appetitive faculty, depending on the presentation to the mind of something good or bad…But passion considered as a class, that is, passion in general, is defined as a movement in one thing caused by another.”^[7] Elsewhere in his work, Damascene states over and over and over that God is impassible, that deity is passion-less, or some variation of that. Thus for Damascene, the impassible God cannot admit a passion (movement) in his emotional or mental life by something outside of himself. Now, I disagree with Damascene, but he is illustrative of The Tradition™️. So how does this make things worse?

Remember how I said forgiveness involves changing your evaluation of someone in response to their apology? That is impossible per the doctrine of impassibility, as that would mean God has been moved to do something in response to something outside of himself. Your confession and repentance to God quite literally can have no effect. (How prayer in general even works on classical theism is another issue as well.) The idea that God can be moved to do anything is utterly anathema to the classical theist. One of the underlying reasons why this is so is that classical theism fundamentally denies that God even stands in a real relation to the world at all. Thomas Aquinas (1225-1274) was not unclear: “But in God relation to the creature is not a real relation, but only a relation of reason; whereas the relation of the creature to God is a real relation, as was said above (I:13:7) in treating of the divine names.”^[8] This answer was given in response to the objection that if creation is applied to God in the active sense, then he would be temporal. There is much more that could be said on this point, but that is far beyond the present scope.

There is another way in which this somehow gets even worse^[9], but that should suffice for now: the classical God cannot forgive you since he cannot be moved to do so and is unable to change.

So, does the classical theist have a way forward? It turns out, yes, they do. They can keep their classical theism and their belief in God’s forgiveness, as I’m sure Barack Obama said in some possible world. Here are some options (I doubt this is exhaustive but it’s what I can think of):

1. They could deny that forgiveness involves a change in one’s evaluation of another person, or a change in one’s mental life.
2. They could deny that forgiveness needs to be given in response to something external to the agent.
3. They could deny that God’s forgiveness is anything like our forgiveness of each other.
4. They could deny that God had previously had a negative evaluation of us. 
5. They could deny that God currently has a positive evaluation of us.
6. They could affirm that God does forgive you and that any change this involves is a Cambridge change.

Option 1 is unsuccessful since I fail to see how one can be said to have forgiven someone when they have the same evaluation of someone as before the forgiveness. If I still think my brother is a pest that I want nothing to do with after I forgave him for being a pest, I have not really forgiven him.

Option 2 is perhaps more promising, but notice that it no longer would apply to our scenario with God. Scripture is clear that God forgives those who repent. God’s forgiveness is not unconditional. Taking this option would effectively deny salvation through faith.

Option 3 is directly contradicted by the Lord’s Prayer: “and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us”. Paul as well in Ephesians 4:32 writes “ Become kind toward one another, compassionate, forgiving one another, just as also God in Christ has forgiven you. (LEB)” If God’s forgiveness is utterly unlike ours, these statements from Jesus and Paul are unintelligible. I know this will be quite the hot take, but I do not believe Jesus and Paul were unintelligible.

Option 4 is a direct assault on any coherent understanding of sin. If God never assessed us negatively, then talk of salvation is meaningless; we aren’t being saved from anything, since we were never lost and were never at risk of God’s judgment. I don’t expect any classical theist to take this route.

If someone takes Option 5, I don’t know why they would want the Christian life.

Option 6 is interesting. A Cambridge change is one in which there is a change, but only on one end of the relationship. The example is given of being south of Cambridge. You then walk to the north of Cambridge. The change is that you were south of Cambridge and now you are north of it. Cambridge has not changed, you have. So, as defenders of classical theism are renowned for their charitable interactions with their opponents, they will kindly remind you that they are perfectly happy to accept Cambridge changes all day long with God. There is a change in God’s relationship to us, but it’s on our end, not God’s. We repented and asked for forgiveness. The change involved in God’s forgiveness is really a change in us. God is still (to use a temporal idea) in his perfect state of timeless and impassible bliss with his evaluations of all creatures great and small being known by him from eternity in his one, single instant.

While interesting, this is perhaps the most sinister option. We depend for our salvation upon God’s forgiveness. We would not be indwelled by the Holy Spirit without it. The idea that it is strictly a change in me that I am depending on for my salvation is truly terrifying. I still sin (change for the worse) and sometimes I may not look all that different from a nonbeliever; how then can I know that I really am forgiven? This idea would utterly destroy any assurance of salvation. Furthermore, it seems to fly in the face of the many passages that assert our utter dependence on God, even for our next breath (Job 12:10, Psalm 84, Psalm 104:29, Psalm 119:81-82).

Now, this by itself may not be a reason to reject that God’s forgiveness is a Cambridge change; maybe reality is just that dark. But there is another problem with the appeal to a Cambridge change: the relationship. The Cambridge change is only such if I really am in the relations “south of” and “north of” to Cambridge. But recall that a fundamental assumption to classical theism is that God is not really related to the world! The classical theist may try to wiggle out by saying that these Cambridge relations are not real relations. In that case, I don’t think I know what “real” means anymore. I give up. 

In the form of premises, the argument is:

1. If God is timeless, he is not capable of undergoing change in any form.
2. A necessary condition to being forgiven is that the subject initially have a negative evaluation of the object of forgiveness.
3. A necessary condition to being forgiven is that the subject no longer have a negative evaluation of the object of forgiveness.
4. Therefore, if God forgives someone, he goes from having a negative evaluation of them to no longer having a negative evaluation of them.
5. If God goes from having a negative evaluation of them to no longer having a negative evaluation of them, then there has been a change in his mental and emotional life.
6. God is timeless.
7. Therefore, God cannot have a change in his mental and emotional life.
8. Therefore, God cannot go from having a negative evaluation of someone to no longer having a negative evaluation of someone.
9. Therefore, God cannot forgive anyone.

As a bonus, here is the argument from impassibility against forgiveness being because of repentance:

1. If God is impassible, he is not capable of being moved to do an action by anything external to himself.
2. If God forgives someone because they have repented, then he has been moved to act by something outside of himself.
3. God is impassible.
4. Therefore, God cannot be moved to act because of something outside of himself.
5. Therefore, God cannot forgive someone because they have repented.
6. Therefore, repentance is not a condition for God’s forgiveness.

Conclusion

I want to be clear about what exactly I have and have not argued for here. I have not argued that classical theism is false. I believe it is false, but that is not my argument here. My argument is that the doctrines of classical theism logically entail that God cannot forgive you.

This is in contrast to teachings derived from a sound reading of Scripture. Scripture reveals God as being highly interactive. The doctrines of classical theism are directly contradicted on every page of Scripture and would render crucial claims of the Gospel itself literally false. I do not believe that classical theism should be on the table for a Christian to believe. Of course, classical theists can still be Christians, but that is in spite of their model of God, not because of it. Christian, take solace in that God really has forgiven you, that he really does no longer hold your sin against you, that he really has transferred us from the kingdom of darkness to the kingdom of his Son (Col. 1:13), that you are really no longer under condemnation (Rom. 8:1), and that he really does currently have a positive evaluation of you (Eph. 1:3-14).

I am sure that classical theists will have their rebuttals, and I look forward to seeing what they may be.

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^[1] Mullins, The Divine Timemaker, in Philosophia Christi Vol. 22, No.2, (2020), 213.

^[2] Yes, I’m aware that he had a little more to say on the subject than this. But that’s not the point.

^[3] Mullins, The End of The Timeless God (2016), 18. See also Mullins’ chapter in Ontology of Divinity (forthcoming), edited by Miroslaw Szatkowski, 99-111.

^[4] Craig, Time and Eternity (2001), 30-31.

^[5] Mullins, The End of The Timeless God (2016), 157.

^[6] After I had written this bit, I came across an article by Mullins in which he actually says as much. “When God forgives a repentant sinner, God changes both intrinsically and extrinsically. God changes extrinsically in that God comes to stand in a new relation to a creature. Namely, being the one to whom a sinner is repenting of her sins. Yet, God also changes intrinsically in that God’s knowledge will perfectly track the changes in reality. God now knows that He is being prayed to, and God now knows that He is forgiving the sinner.” (Mullins, Ryan T. “Open Theism and Perfect Rationality: An Examination of Dean Zimmerman’s views on God, Time, and Creation.” TheoLogica: An International Journal for Philosophy of Religion and Philosophical Theology 8.2 (2024), pg. 2-3)

^[7] Exposition of the Orthodox Faith 2.22

^[8] Summa Theologica 1 q.45 a.3

^[9] I refer here to the doctrine of simplicity, rounding out the quartet of classical distinctives. This one is a bit more complicated to define clearly, and this post is already long enough, so I will save a consideration of it for a part 2.