Thursday, January 15, 2026

Two Perspectives on Permanence

 by Rev. William M. Brennan, TH.D.

Temporal “Endlessness,” Celestial Eternity, and the Intervention of Christ

Much confusion in Christian debates about judgment, punishment, and “eternity” comes from treating the word eternal as though it always refers to a single kind of duration: the infinite extension of time. Yet Scripture, tradition, and ordinary experience suggest that there are at least two different ways something may be “without end.” One is the kind of permanence that belongs to time and history—what may be called temporal permanence. The other is the permanence that belongs to God and the heavenly order—what may be called celestial permanence. Once these two realms are distinguished, the meaning of “eternal” becomes clearer, and the role of Christ as the decisive interruption of an otherwise unending condition becomes central.

1. The Temporal Realm: Endlessness as Natural Trajectory

The temporal realm is the sphere of created life as it unfolds within history. Here, things persist through causes, continuities, and internal momentum. A “temporal permanence” is not necessarily something that is metaphysically infinite; rather, it is something that has no internal stopping point. It is unending in itself, not because it possesses some divine property of infinity, but because nothing within the system provides an exit.

This kind of “endlessness” appears everywhere in ordinary life. A fire left unattended does not stop because it has reached the end of fire; it stops only when fuel is removed or another force intervenes. Likewise, cycles of violence do not halt because violence grows tired; they end when interrupted by reconciliation, justice, or exhaustion of resources. In the same way, a disease can be “terminal” not because it possesses infinite power, but because the body has no inner capacity to overcome it. The illness would continue to its end if nothing outside the system disrupts it.

This is a crucial category for theology. Certain realities are “eternal” in the sense that they are self-perpetuating conditions. They have no built-in conclusion. Left alone, they proceed endlessly—not absolutely, but indefinitely.

2. Sin and Death: The Unending Condition Outside Christ

When Christian theology speaks of sin and death reigning over humanity, it often describes them not merely as moral failures but as a realm, a dominion, a power. To be “outside Christ” is not just to be guilty; it is to inhabit an order in which the human person cannot, by inward effort, undo the situation. This is why sin is frequently described as bondage, slavery, or captivity rather than merely as a mistake.

In this sense, alienation from God is endless. Not endless because God wills infinite misery as a first principle, but endless because the state of separation contains no internal mechanism for its own healing. A soul turned away from the source of life does not naturally reconstitute itself into communion by sheer passage of time. Time, by itself, does not heal spiritual death any more than time, by itself, reverses physical decomposition. If the condition is death, time does not act as medicine; it acts as continuation.

This gives weight to the stark warnings of judgment. Judgment is not a mere “slap on the wrist.” It is the recognition that, apart from divine rescue, the human condition is not self-correcting. Outside the medicine of God, the illness persists. Outside the light of God, darkness does not become light simply by remaining dark for a long time.

Therefore, the temporal realm can contain a kind of unending torment: not necessarily because torment is metaphysically infinite, but because in the fallen order there is no internal path to liberation. Within this realm, it is coherent to say that punishment or misery is “unending”—not as a philosophical claim about infinity, but as a statement about hopelessness within the system itself.

3. Celestial Permanence: Eternity as the Divine Mode of Being

Celestial permanence is different. It is not merely “very long time,” or time stretched without end. It is the permanence of the divine life, the stability of God’s own being, and the unshakable reality of what is grounded in Him.

What is “eternal” in the celestial sense is not merely a process that continues; it is a reality that exists beyond the vulnerabilities of time. This eternity is not measured by duration but by participation in the life of the Eternal One. It is not just indefinite persistence; it is incorruptibility. It does not depend on conditions remaining favorable, because it is not contingent in that way. It is the permanence of what cannot decay.

This is why “eternal life” in Christian language is not simply “life that lasts forever.” It is the life of God shared with creatures. It is communion, incorruption, and participation in the divine victory over death. Eternal life is not merely endless biological continuation—it is life in the mode of God’s immortality.

Thus “eternal,” when applied to God or to salvation, carries a celestial meaning: not endless time but divine permanence. It is life that cannot be undone because it rests on the foundation of God Himself.

4. Why the Same Word Can Point to Two Different Realities

If the temporal realm contains trajectories without internal end, and the celestial realm contains divine permanence, it becomes possible to see why “eternal” language can be misunderstood. The same word—eternal—may be used in two distinct but related ways:

  1. Temporal unendingness: something continues without internal terminus

  2. Celestial eternity: something belongs to God’s incorruptible order

This means that “eternal punishment” does not have to be treated as a simplistic mathematical statement (“infinite duration”), nor does it have to be dismissed as meaningless. It can mean: punishment belonging to the final order of judgment; punishment having decisive seriousness; punishment that, within the fallen condition, does not resolve itself from the inside.

In other words, it can be “unending” in the temporal sense—without internal remedy—while still being subject to the higher reality of God’s intervention.

5. The Arrival of Christ: The External Interruption

The heart of the Christian proclamation is precisely that Christ enters the human situation as an external intervention. He does not merely offer advice to people trapped in an unending condition; He breaks the condition itself. Redemption is not time continuing as usual; it is an invasion of grace that introduces a new possibility that did not previously exist within the system.

This is why the Gospel is not merely moral instruction. If moral instruction were sufficient, humanity could slowly evolve out of bondage by internal progress. But Christian faith asserts something far more radical: that sin and death are powers that cannot be overcome from within. The only hope is that God steps into history and changes the structure of reality.

Christ’s coming is therefore a cosmic interruption. The trajectory of death is altered not by slow improvement but by decisive conquest. A door appears where no door existed. A healing enters from beyond the disease. A resurrection breaks the closed loop of decay.

This is not only about individuals; it is about realms. Christ changes the realm itself. He transfers humanity from one dominion to another. What was previously “endless” because it had no internal surcease is now confronted by an external Redeemer who brings surcease from beyond the system.

6. Implications: Eternal Misery Is Not the Final Word

Once Christ’s intervention is taken seriously, the notion that unending torment must be absolute becomes less obvious. It may be that torment is unending so long as the person remains outside Christ, because outside Him the condition has no internal healing. But the Gospel announces that Christ does not merely stand at the edge of this realm offering sympathy—He enters it, harrows it, breaks it, and leads captives out.

In this way, the “unending” nature of misery is not denied; it is reinterpreted. It is unending by nature, but not unending by necessity, because God is not bound by the nature of the fallen system. The whole point of Christ is that He introduces a new necessity: the necessity of grace, the necessity of divine victory, the necessity of resurrection.

This allows one to speak with honesty about judgment without making despair a metaphysical principle. Judgment is real because the fallen condition is real. Torment is real because separation from life is real. But Christ is more real still—not merely because He lasts longer, but because He belongs to the celestial permanence of God’s own life, and therefore cannot be overcome.

7. Conclusion: Eternity Belongs to Christ, Not to Death

In the final analysis, the Christian confession is not that death is eternal, but that God is eternal. Whatever is unending in the temporal realm—sin, misery, punishment—has no internal cure, and therefore appears endless to those trapped within it. But the coming of Christ reveals that the deepest form of permanence does not belong to death at all. Celestial permanence belongs to the Eternal One.

Therefore “eternal” must be handled with care. It can describe a condition that continues indefinitely by its own momentum; it can also describe the incorruptible life of God. The decisive difference is this: temporal permanence can be interrupted by a power from outside the system, but celestial permanence cannot be interrupted because it is grounded in God Himself.

And this is the meaning of Christ: the Eternal One entering time to end what time could not end. The endlessness of sin and death is not defeated by more time; it is defeated by eternity stepping into time. When Christ comes on the scene, everything changes—not because the clock runs longer, but because a new realm arrives.

Thursday, January 8, 2026

The True Israel of God in Opposition to the Error of Evangelical Zionism

by Rev. William M. Brennan, TH.D.

Abstract

This essay argues that the New Testament consistently redefines “Israel” not as an ethnic entity grounded in physical descent from Abraham, but as a spiritual people constituted by union with Christ. Drawing upon the preaching of John the Baptist, the teachings of Jesus, and the apostolic witness—especially in Romans, Galatians, Ephesians, Hebrews, and Revelation—this study demonstrates that covenant identity is relocated from the physical and national to the spiritual and eschatological. The essay further critiques dispensational and Christian Zionist readings that subordinate the New Testament to the Old, thereby obscuring the once-hidden mystery now revealed in Christ and reintroducing ethnic distinctions the gospel has decisively overcome.


1. Introduction

The New Testament’s understanding of Israel represents not a marginal doctrinal adjustment but a fundamental reconstitution of the people of God. While Second Temple Judaism largely defined covenant membership in terms of Abrahamic descent and Torah observance, the New Testament consistently challenges such definitions. From the preaching of John the Baptist through the ministry of Jesus and the theology of the apostles, ethnic privilege is dismantled and replaced by a Christ-centered, Spirit-created people.

This essay contends that the New Testament presents a unified theological vision: true Israel consists of those who belong to Christ by faith, irrespective of ethnicity, and that this vision must govern the interpretation of earlier Scripture.


2. John the Baptist and the Collapse of Ethnic Presumption

The New Testament’s redefinition of Israel begins not with Paul, but with John the Baptist.

In the Gospel of Matthew 3:7–9, John confronts the Pharisees and Sadducees coming for baptism:

“Do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our father,’ for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children for Abraham.”

Several crucial theological claims emerge:

  1. Physical descent from Abraham does not guarantee covenant standing

  2. God’s power to create children renders ethnic lineage irrelevant

  3. Repentance, not ancestry, marks true heirs of the kingdom

John explicitly denies that the religious elite are true children of Abraham by virtue of descent alone. This anticipates the New Testament’s broader insistence that God’s people are defined by divine action and repentance, not genealogy.


3. Jesus and the Rejection of Abrahamic Claims

Jesus intensifies John’s critique by directly denying Abrahamic sonship to unbelieving Jews.

In the Gospel of John 8:39–44, Jesus declares:

“If you were Abraham’s children, you would be doing the works Abraham did… You are of your father the devil.”

Here, Jesus redefines descent ethically and spiritually rather than biologically. True sonship is demonstrated by resemblance in character and obedience, not bloodline. By calling his opponents “sons of the devil,” Jesus explicitly rejects ethnic determinism in favor of moral and spiritual affiliation.

This teaching is inseparable from the earlier declarations that:

  • God could raise children for Abraham from stones (Matt 3:9)

  • Many from east and west would sit with the patriarchs, while “sons of the kingdom” would be cast out (Matt 8:11–12)

Together, these sayings establish that membership in Israel is contingent upon response to God’s revelation in Christ.


4. Typology: From Earthly Shadows to Heavenly Realities

A central hermeneutical principle of the New Testament is that physical realities in the Old Covenant pointed forward to greater spiritual realities fulfilled in Christ.

4.1 Temple → Christ and the Church

Jesus identifies himself as the true temple (John 2:19–21), a claim later extended to the church as his body (1 Cor 3:16; Eph 2:21). The locus of God’s presence is no longer geographical but Christological and ecclesial.

4.2 Land → Heavenly Inheritance

The promised land, long regarded as the heart of Israel’s identity, is reinterpreted eschatologically. Hebrews insists that the patriarchs themselves sought a better, heavenly country (Heb 11:13–16). Paul likewise speaks of believers as citizens of heaven (Phil 3:20).

In the Epistle to the Hebrews, the earthly is repeatedly contrasted with the heavenly:

  • Earthly priesthood → eternal priesthood of Christ

  • Earthly sanctuary → heavenly reality

  • Old covenant → new and superior covenant

The physical promise land thus functions typologically, pointing beyond itself to the heavenly Jerusalem.


5. The Heavenly Jerusalem and the True People of God

The New Testament explicitly locates the fulfillment of Israel’s hope in a heavenly city, not an earthly nation-state.

  • Hebrews 12:22: “You have come to Mount Zion… the heavenly Jerusalem”

  • Galatians 4:26: “The Jerusalem above is free, and she is our mother”

  • Revelation 21: The New Jerusalem descends from heaven as the dwelling of God with his people

These texts leave little room for a return to an ethnic or territorial definition of Israel. The inheritance is eschatological, universal, and Christ-centered.


6. Apostolic Theology: One People, One Identity

Paul’s declarations bring the argument to its theological climax.

  • Romans 2: True Jews are inward, by the Spirit

  • Romans 9: Not all Israel is Israel

  • Galatians 3: Those of faith are Abraham’s children

  • Galatians 3:28: “There is neither Jew nor Greek”

  • Ephesians 2: One new humanity in Christ

The church is not a secondary people alongside Israel but the continuation and fulfillment of God’s covenant purpose.


7. A Critique of Dispensationalism and Evangelical Zionism

Dispensationalism and many forms of evangelical Zionism invert the New Testament’s hermeneutical priority by interpreting the New Testament through the Old rather than the Old through the New.

This approach results in several theological problems:

  1. Ethnic distinctions are reintroduced after Christ has abolished them

  2. The once-revealed mystery of Jew–Gentile unity (Eph 3:4–6) is effectively re-concealed

  3. Earthly shadows are re-elevated over heavenly realities

  4. The church is marginalized as a “parenthesis” rather than affirmed as the people of God

Such readings stand in tension with the apostolic insistence that the gospel represents the full and final revelation of God’s redemptive plan.


8. Conclusion

From John the Baptist to Jesus, from Paul to Hebrews and Revelation, the New Testament speaks with remarkable unity: true Israel is not defined by blood, land, or ethnicity, but by faith in Christ and participation in the Spirit. Physical realities—temple, land, nation—served as shadows pointing toward a greater spiritual fulfillment now realized in Christ and his people.

To return to ethnic or territorial definitions of Israel after the revelation of Christ is not to honor the Old Testament, but to misunderstand it. The mystery once hidden has now been revealed: God has created one people, one inheritance, one race in Christ—and all who belong to him are the true children of Abraham.

Monday, January 5, 2026

Divine Love, Privation, and the Moral Character of God: A Christological Critique of Augustinian and Calvinist Soteriology

by Rev. William M. Brennan, TH.D.

Abstract

This essay argues that the Augustinian–Calvinist account of divine goodness and love is internally incoherent and theologically deficient when measured against its own metaphysical commitments and the Christological revelation of God in Scripture. By examining the doctrine of evil as privation, the moral implications of selective non-redemption, and the life and teaching of Jesus Christ, it is contended that the refusal of divine aid to redeemable creatures constitutes an exacerbation of privation incompatible with perfect goodness and self-giving love. The essay concludes that a non-restorative account of divine love fails both philosophically and Christologically.


1. Introduction

Within the Western Christian tradition, the theology of Augustine of Hippo and its later development in John Calvin has exercised enormous influence on doctrines of divine goodness, love, and salvation. Central to this tradition is the claim that God’s refusal to redeem all creatures is compatible with perfect goodness and love, grounded either in divine justice (Augustine) or divine sovereignty (Calvin).

This essay challenges that claim. It argues that once evil is understood as privation of the good, and once divine love is interpreted through the moral character of Jesus Christ, selective non-redemption becomes morally incoherent. The refusal to heal corruption when healing is possible does not merely permit evil; it perpetuates and exacerbates privation. Moreover, such a conception of divine love stands in sharp tension with the self-giving, restorative love revealed in Christ.


2. Evil as Privation and the Moral Implications of Non-Redemption

Augustine’s privation theory of evil (privatio boni) holds that evil is not a substance or positive reality but a lack of the good that ought to be present. Corruption, sin, and disorder are deficiencies in being rather than entities in their own right. This framework is intended to absolve God of responsibility for evil by denying evil any ontological status.

However, this metaphysical move carries significant moral implications. If evil is a lack, then the moral response to evil is not merely restraint or permission, but restoration. A privation, by definition, calls for the reintroduction of the good that is absent. Consequently, when a perfectly good and omnipotent being knowingly refuses to restore a privation that it can restore at no cost, such refusal cannot be morally neutral.

The Augustinian distinction between causing evil and permitting evil collapses once remediation is possible. Permission may be morally intelligible where intervention is impossible, costly, or unjust; but where none of these constraints apply, non-intervention becomes a deliberate continuation of lack. Thus, on Augustine’s own metaphysical terms, non-redemption entails the perpetuation of privation.


3. Justice, Desert, and the Misplacement of Moral Reasoning

Augustine seeks to justify selective grace by appealing to human desert: all have sinned, none deserve salvation, and therefore God is not unjust in withholding grace from some. Yet this line of reasoning conflates juridical justice with ontological healing.

Privation is not a legal penalty but a deficiency of being. To refuse to restore a being to its proper good because it “deserves” corruption is conceptually confused. Illness is not justified by guilt, nor is healing rendered unjust by its gratuity. Once evil is understood as lack rather than crime, the relevant moral category shifts from retribution to beneficence.

Appeals to desert thus fail to address the central problem: why a perfectly good being would knowingly leave creatures in a corrupted state when restoration is possible.


4. Calvin’s Sovereignty and the Eclipse of Moral Goodness

Calvin radicalises Augustine’s position by grounding divine goodness not in any intelligible moral structure but in the divine will itself. Whatever God wills is good by definition. While this move secures internal consistency, it does so at the cost of evacuating moral language of content.

If goodness simply means “what God does,” then God’s love is no longer recognisable as love in any meaningful sense. Moral praise becomes impossible, and the claim that “God is good” ceases to be informative. Moreover, Calvin’s account instrumentalises privation: the continued corruption of the non-elect serves the end of divine glory. Evil, though officially denied ontological status, is granted functional necessity.

This position intensifies rather than resolves the moral problem. Privation becomes not merely tolerated but purposively sustained.


5. Christological Revelation and the Moral Logic of Divine Love

Christian theology affirms that the moral character of God is decisively revealed in the person and life of Jesus Christ. Christ is not merely a messenger of divine love but its embodiment. Consequently, doctrines of divine goodness must be coherent with Christ’s moral posture.

Christ consistently portrays divine action as need-responsive rather than desert-based. His declaration that He came “not for the righteous, but to heal the sick” establishes corruption as the very ground of divine intervention. Throughout the Gospels, Christ associates with morally compromised individuals, heals without precondition, and treats refusal to restore when possible as morally indefensible.

The physician metaphor is especially instructive. A physician does not withhold treatment because illness is self-inflicted or undeserved. Healing is not an act of discretionary mercy opposed to justice; it is simply what goodness does in the presence of need. By choosing this metaphor, Christ precludes the Augustinian justification of non-aid.


6. Power, Responsibility, and the Cross

In Christ, power generates responsibility rather than exemption. Christ heals because He can; He forgives because He can; He bears suffering because He can. Most decisively, on the cross, God absorbs the cost of restoration rather than refusing aid to preserve justice or sovereignty.

If God in Christ willingly enters the deepest privation to restore enemies, it becomes incoherent to claim that the same God eternally refuses to heal corruption where healing remains possible. The cross reveals divine love as self-giving, not selectively withholding.


7. Ethical Imitation and the Problem of Inimitable Goodness

Scripture repeatedly calls believers to imitate God and Christ. Yet under the Augustinian–Calvinist scheme, humans are commanded to love enemies, heal the broken, and refuse abandonment, while God is said to do precisely the opposite at the ultimate level. This renders divine goodness ethically inimitable and fractures the unity between divine command and divine action.

A goodness that cannot be mirrored is not exemplary; a love that withholds healing when healing is possible is not Christlike.


8. Conclusion

This essay has argued that the Augustinian–Calvinist account of divine goodness and love fails on three fronts. Metaphysically, it is inconsistent with the doctrine of evil as privation. Morally, it permits the unnecessary perpetuation of corruption by a perfectly good being. Christologically, it conflicts with the self-giving, restorative love revealed in Jesus Christ.

If evil is lack, goodness must heal.
If love is revealed in Christ, it must be restorative and non-withholding.

Selective non-redemption cannot be squared with either. The problem is not that Augustine and Calvin take divine holiness too seriously, but that they take Christ’s moral revelation insufficiently seriously. Christian theology, if it is to remain faithful to its centre, must allow Christ—not abstract attributes—to define the meaning of divine goodness and love.

Monday, December 22, 2025

Eternal Privation and the Eclipse of Divine Love: A Theological Critique of the Augustinian Doctrine of Hell

 By Rev.William M. Brennan, TH.D.


Abstract

This essay argues that Augustine’s doctrine of evil as privatio boni, when combined with his commitment to eternal conscious punishment, generates a series of metaphysical, moral, and biblical incoherences. Although Augustine successfully rejects Manichaean ontological dualism, he preserves a functional and eschatological dualism in which evil—understood as unhealed privation—endures eternally alongside the good. This results in a theological vision that subordinates divine love to retributive justice and cosmic order, in tension with the biblical portrayal of God as Father revealed by Jesus Christ. By examining Augustine’s account of justice, freedom, fatherhood, punishment, and infinity (including its later Anselmian development), this essay contends that eternal non-restorative punishment neither satisfies justice nor coheres with Scripture’s moral and eschatological grammar. The Augustinian model thus proves theologically defective, not merely pastorally troubling.


1. Introduction: Augustine’s Achievement and Its Cost

Augustine’s rejection of Manichaeism stands as one of the most important theological achievements in Christian intellectual history. By defining evil not as a substance or rival principle but as a privation of good, Augustine safeguarded the doctrine of creation’s goodness and God’s sole ultimacy. Yet this metaphysical victory came at a cost. When paired with Augustine’s doctrine of eternal conscious punishment, the privation account of evil no longer functions as a solution to the problem of evil, but instead becomes a constraint within which evil is preserved indefinitely.

The central contention of this essay is that Augustine’s theology ultimately renders evil eschatologically ultimate, if not ontologically so. Evil does not endure as a competing substance, but as an everlasting absence—an unhealed privation sustained by divine will. This result compromises Augustine’s own metaphysical principles, undermines the biblical presentation of divine love, and empties the concept of justice of its restorative telos.


2. Eternal Privation and Functional Dualism

Augustine denies that evil has positive being. Yet in affirming eternal hell, he affirms the everlasting existence of rational creatures whose wills remain permanently disordered. The privation—lack of rightly ordered love, peace, and communion with God—is never healed. As a result, evil persists without end, not as substance but as condition.

This introduces what may be called a contained or functional dualism. While Augustine avoids Manichaean metaphysics, he nevertheless posits two final and permanent states of reality: perfect blessedness and perfect misery. Evil is not co-eternal in origin, but it is co-eternal in outcome. The cosmos is forever structured by an unresolved lack.

Thus, Augustine’s privation theory no longer eliminates evil’s permanence; it merely redescribes it. Evil is not defeated but stabilized. It loses its independence, but not its duration.


3. Justice, Order, and the Failure of Necessity

Augustine’s primary justification for eternal punishment appeals to justice and cosmic order. Yet a crucial distinction must be made: justice may permit non-restoration, but it does not require it.

If justice is fundamentally the right ordering of relationships, then restoration—rather than endless exclusion—more fully satisfies its aims. A universe in which every will is healed, every disorder corrected, and every privation filled would exhibit greater order, not less. Eternal non-restoration preserves a permanent disorder within creation, contradicting Augustine’s own definition of peace as tranquillitas ordinis.

Once it is conceded that justice does not demand refusal to regenerate, the order argument collapses. Eternal punishment can no longer be justified as necessary; it becomes a contingent divine choice. At that point, love—not justice—must explain why restoration does not occur. And Augustine does not allow love to bear that explanatory weight.


4. Divine Fatherhood and the A Fortiori Argument of Jesus

The most serious biblical objection to Augustine’s position arises from Jesus’ teaching on divine fatherhood, particularly in the Sermon on the Mount. Jesus explicitly authorizes a moral inference from human parenting to God: if flawed parents give good gifts to their children, how much more will the heavenly Father do so.

This argument establishes not merely a promise, but a revelation of divine character. God is not less compassionate than the best human father; he is more so. A father who could rescue a wayward child from endless ruin at no cost but refuses would be morally reprehensible by human standards—standards Jesus explicitly elevates rather than suspends.

Attempts to restrict divine fatherhood to the elect fail to resolve the tension. Scripture identifies Adam as God’s son, implying a creational fatherhood that extends to all humanity. Even if covenantal distinctions are granted, they cannot negate the moral logic of Jesus’ a fortiori reasoning. A God who eternally abandons his redeemable offspring violates the very moral pattern he commands human parents to embody.


5. Biblical Patterns of Restorative Judgment

Scripture consistently presents judgment as measured, purposeful, and oriented toward restoration. The language of punishment being “paid in full,” exemplified in Israel’s having received a “double portion” for her sins, signifies completion rather than perpetuity. Punishment has a terminus; justice is satisfied; restoration follows.

This biblical logic exposes a fatal flaw in the doctrine of endless punishment: an endless penalty can never be paid in full. What is never completed can never satisfy justice. Punishment without completion lacks telos and therefore ceases to be punishment in the biblical sense, devolving instead into perpetual ruin.


6. The Collapse of the Infinite Penalty Argument

The Anselmian claim that sin against infinite majesty requires infinite punishment depends on a quantitative notion of infinity. Once that notion is rejected, the argument fails. A qualitative understanding of infinity—as perfection or completeness—does not entail endless duration. On the contrary, perfect punishment would be punishment that fully achieves its purpose and therefore ends.

Endlessness signifies failure, not perfection. A punishment that never concludes never accomplishes justice. Thus, the infinite-penalty argument collapses under both philosophical scrutiny and biblical theology.


7. Christ’s Sufficiency and the Unnecessary Remainder

If Christ’s atoning work is sufficient for all, then no additional cost is required for universal regeneration. Eternal non-restoration therefore cannot be justified by scarcity, inability, or insufficiency. It represents not a tragic limit but a deliberate refusal.

At this point, Augustine’s system preserves an eternal remainder of unhealed evil not because it must, but because love is not permitted to complete its work. Justice is allowed to terminate in exclusion rather than reconciliation. Love is affirmed, but not allowed to be final.


8. Conclusion: Love or Order as Ultimate

Augustine’s theology presents a God who is just, sovereign, and orderly—but not one in whom love has the final word. Evil is denied substance, but granted permanence. Justice is satisfied, but never completed. Order is preserved, but at the cost of reconciliation.

The biblical vision, by contrast, portrays a God whose justice serves restoration, whose judgments heal, whose fatherhood exceeds the best human analogues, and whose final victory leaves no pocket of unredeemed ruin. A theology that eternally preserves privation—even under the name of justice—fails to reflect that vision.

Eternal punishment, therefore, is not the triumph of divine justice. It is the eclipse of divine love.

Monday, December 1, 2025

A Resolution to the Seeming Paradox between Divine Sovereignty and Human Responsibility

 by William M. Brennan, TH.D.

Introduction

The dialectic between divine sovereignty and human responsibility has long been a focal point of Christian theological reflection. Much of the tension, however, is generated by importing philosophical constructs—most notably libertarian free will—into the biblical framework. Libertarian freedom defines human agency as the power to make morally significant choices from a position of neutrality, unconditioned by any prior disposition or inclination of the will. This model presupposes an anthropological and metaphysical structure foreign to Scripture. When one rejects the libertarian premise and replaces it with biblical categories—natural ability, moral inability, bondage of the will, common grace, and sovereign providence—the apparent contradiction dissolves. The present essay argues that divine sovereignty and genuine human responsibility coexist coherently once we adopt the biblical presupposition that God does not coerce internal moral choices, even though He sovereignly ordains the circumstances in which they are made.


I. The Impossibility of Libertarian Free Will

1. The Scriptural Denial of Moral Neutrality

Libertarian free will requires the functional equivalent of a moral vacuum in which the human agent possesses a posture of equilibrium toward good and evil. Such a condition is nowhere attested in Scripture. Quite the contrary, Jesus’ teaching in Matthew 12:33 establishes a determinative relationship between nature and action: “Make a tree good and its fruit will be good, or make a tree bad and its fruit will be bad.”¹ The tree’s fruit is not morally neutral but expressive of its internal constitution. Actions reveal nature, not indeterminate freedom. Thus, moral decisions arise from preexisting dispositions.

2. Divine Impossibility and the Limits of Will

Libertarian freedom is not only absent in humanity; it is impossible even for God. Scripture is unambiguous that there are divine impossibilities: God “cannot lie” (Titus 1:2), deny Himself (2 Tim 2:13), or change His eternal decree (Num 23:19). These “cannot” statements do not indicate weakness but rather perfection of nature. God’s will is bound—not externally, but internally—by His immutable holiness.² To claim that God must possess libertarian freedom would require that God be capable of sin or contradiction, which is metaphysically incoherent.

Thus, if libertarian freedom is impossible for a maximally perfect being, it cannot coherently be demanded of finite creatures.


II. Natural Ability and Moral Ability: A Necessary Distinction

A proper understanding of human agency requires distinguishing natural ability from moral ability.

1. Natural Ability

Natural ability refers to the possession of intact rational, volitional, and emotional faculties adequate for moral deliberation.³ Scripture affirms that human beings, even in their fallen state, have minds capable of reasoning, choosing, deliberating, and understanding moral norms (Rom 2:14–15). God does not force thought processes or bypass these faculties; He addresses them through revelation, law, conscience, and providence.

2. Moral Inability

Moral inability refers to the disposition of the heart—what Jonathan Edwards called “the inability of inclination.”⁴ A sinner is morally unable to choose the good because he does not desire it. This inability is not a lack of capacity but a corruption of inclination. As Augustine famously stated, human beings are non posse non peccare in their unregenerate state. Luther sharpened this insight in De Servo Arbitrio (The Bondage of the Will), arguing that the will is “free” only in the sense that it always follows its strongest desire, but the unregenerate heart desires evil.⁵

Thus, human beings possess natural ability but lack moral ability. Responsibility attaches to natural ability and voluntariness, not to libertarian neutrality.


III. Divine Sovereignty Over Circumstances Without Internal Coercion

1. The Scope of Divine Providence

Scripture asserts that God “works all things after the counsel of His will” (Eph 1:11). This includes the arrangement of the external circumstances in which human beings make moral decisions. Providence encompasses historical events, interpersonal relations, timing, opportunities, and constraints.⁶ Nothing exists outside the sphere of divine decree.

2. The Non-Causation of Sinful Motives

Despite God’s sovereignty over circumstances, Scripture explicitly excludes God from being the author or cause of internal sinful motives: “God cannot be tempted by evil, nor does He tempt anyone” (Jas 1:13). The willing of sin arises entirely from the corrupted heart of man. God arranges contexts, but the heart supplies the content of sinful choice.

This model preserves:

  • Divine sovereignty over all conditions

  • Human voluntariness in all moral acts

  • Divine holiness, because God never implants sin internally

The sinner’s choice is thus conditioned by divine providence but determined by his own corrupt nature.


IV. The Restrictive and Enabling Function of Common Grace

Common grace functions as a mitigating factor within fallen humanity. It restrains the full expression of depravity and enables relatively virtuous actions without producing spiritual righteousness. Calvin described common grace as God’s merciful restraint upon human nature and human society.⁷ Through conscience (Rom 2:15), civic virtue, social order, and intellectual illumination, God limits evil and allows human beings to seek proximate goods.

Common grace does not, however, liberate the will from its bondage; it merely prevents evil from reaching its maximal expression. It ensures that human choices are varied and complex without being morally neutral.


V. Voluntariness as the Basis of Moral Responsibility

The moral accountability of human beings rests not on libertarian freedom but on voluntariness. A morally responsible act must:

  1. Arise from the agent’s own will

  2. Proceed without external coercion

  3. Be performed with natural faculties intact

  4. Reflect the person’s character

These conditions are satisfied in every human action. The sinner’s decision to sin is always voluntary—indeed, irresistibly so, because it flows from what the sinner most desires.⁸ Divine sovereignty never forces sin; it merely provides the stage on which freely acting sinners perform according to their natures.

This framework aligns with the biblical narratives of Pharaoh (Exod 4–14), Judas (John 13:27), and the Assyrian empire (Isa 10:5–15): God ordained the historical circumstances, but each actor’s sin arose voluntarily from his own heart.


Conclusion

When libertarian free will is removed from the discussion, the reconciliation of divine sovereignty and human responsibility becomes theologically straightforward. The biblical model affirms:

  1. Absolute divine sovereignty over all events and circumstances

  2. Genuine human responsibility grounded in natural ability and voluntariness

  3. Bondage of the will rooted in moral corruption

  4. Divine non-coercion regarding internal sinful motives

  5. Common grace as a restraining and enabling factor

  6. A coherent causal structure in which God ordains the context while humans determine the moral content of their choices

This concludes that the supposed contradiction between sovereignty and responsibility arises only when libertarian assumptions are inserted into the biblical text. Scripture resolves the tension by maintaining a compatibilist model in which God governs all things and humans act freely according to their natures. The result is a theologically robust, philosophically coherent account of human agency under divine sovereignty—one that safeguards both divine holiness and human accountability.


Footnotes

  1. Matt 12:33 underscores the causal priority of moral nature over moral action, contradicting any notion of moral neutrality.

  2. See classical discussions in Augustine, De Trinitate, and Anselm, Cur Deus Homo, on divine immutability and moral necessity.

  3. For modern discussion, see John Frame, The Doctrine of the Christian Life (Phillipsburg: P&R, 2008), 113–120.

  4. Jonathan Edwards, Freedom of the Will (1754), argues that the will always follows the strongest inclination; moral inability is thus an inability of desire, not of natural faculty.

  5. Martin Luther, The Bondage of the Will (1525), esp. sections on voluntas and servitus.

  6. Classic treatments of providence include Calvin, Institutes, I.16–18.

  7. Calvin, Institutes, II.2.13–17.

  8. Augustine, Confessions, VII.16, articulates voluntariness as the locus of moral responsibility despite the corruption of the will.

Friday, November 28, 2025

John Frame’s Use of Perspectivalism: A Critical Analysis of Collapsed Distinctions in Meaning, Application, and Theological Method


By William M. Brennan, Th.D.

John Frame’s tri-perspectival epistemology—normative, situational, and existential—is often praised for its integrative power and its ability to dissolve false dichotomies by showing the unity of human knowledge under the lordship of Christ. Properly deployed, perspectivalism can illuminate the multifaceted nature of theological questions by demonstrating how divine normativity, the created order, and human response are mutually implicative. However, the model only functions coherently if the perspectives remain genuinely distinct in their contributions. In several key areas of his theological method, Frame fails to preserve this necessary diversity. He emphasizes unity to such an extent that he collapses distinct perspectives into one another, producing conceptual ambiguity where the model itself requires clarity. This essay argues that Frame’s misapplication of perspectivalism, particularly in relation to the meaning and application of Scripture, reveals a methodological inconsistency that undermines both exegesis and classical theological distinctions.


1. Perspectivalism Requires Diversity Before Unity

Frame’s perspectivalism is rooted in Van Til’s insight that Christian epistemology demands both unity and diversity. Each perspective provides a distinct vantage point:

  • Normative: God’s authoritative revelation and commands

  • Situational: facts, contexts, and the created order

  • Existential: the human subject, motives, and response

These perspectives are mutually implicative, but not mutually identical. Their unity is meaningful only because their diversity is real. If the perspectives collapse into indistinguishability, the model reduces to a rhetorical restatement of a single viewpoint rather than an analytical framework.

A functional perspectivalism must therefore maintain the following:

  1. Clear distinctions between what belongs uniquely to each perspective.

  2. Irreducibility, such that each perspective contributes insight the others do not.

  3. Interdependence, showing their coherence without erasing the legitimate differences.

These methodological safeguards are too often abandoned in Frame’s application.


2. The Collapse of Meaning and Application

Nowhere is this failure more apparent than in Frame’s treatment of the meaning and application of Scripture. In The Doctrine of the Knowledge of God, Frame famously asserts that “meaning and application are not essentially different.” This move results from an ambiguity in his use of the word meaning. Historically, theologians and linguists alike have distinguished between:

  • Semantic meaning (the author-intended content of the text)

  • Significance or application (the subjective appropriation by a reader in a given situation)

Classical hermeneutics—from Augustine to Calvin to the Reformed scholastics—always maintained this distinction. Meaning is fixed, public, and textual; application is personal, contextual, and variable. Frame, however, uses “meaning” to refer both to semantic content and to existential appropriation, and he then collapses these two under the rubric of perspectival unity.

This is a methodological oversight. Meaning belongs primarily to the normative perspective: what God (and the human author) intended. Application belongs primarily to the existential perspective: how I must respond. Their interconnection is undeniable, but their distinction is essential. By collapsing them, Frame removes the analytic space needed for exegesis, theological argumentation, and pastoral guidance. If meaning is not distinguished from application, then the text’s message shifts with the reader’s circumstances, thus risking a subtle form of subjectivism that classical theology avoids.


3. Confusion of Metaphysical and Revelational Categories

A similar collapse occurs in Frame’s handling of the communicable and incommunicable attributes of God. Classical theology distinguishes these categories metaphysically: some divine perfections are uniquely God’s (simplicity, aseity, eternality), while others are mirrored analogically in creatures (goodness, wisdom, power). Frame rightly insists that God “communicates” all His attributes in revelation, but he confuses this revelational, normative sense of “communicable” with the ontological, metaphysical distinction. Again, the perspectives (normative and ontological vs. existential analogical reflection) are blended instead of analyzed distinctly. The result is terminological equivocation and the erasure of classical doctrinal boundaries.


4. The Consequence: Loss of Analytical Power

Ironically, Frame’s perspectivalism becomes least effective precisely where it was meant to be most helpful. By failing to identify the genuine differences among the perspectives, he undermines his ability to show how they integrate. Instead of revealing the richness of a doctrine from multiple angles, the model devolves into a conceptual flattening.

A perspectivalism that preserves diversity before unity can illuminate theological questions. A perspectivalism that collapses diversity into unity loses explanatory power.

The problem is not perspectivalism itself but Frame’s inconsistent application of it. He frequently reaches immediately for unity—“meaning is application,” “communicable attributes are communicable in every sense,” “ethics, knowledge, and being are one perspective”—without first articulating the distinctions that unity is meant to harmonize.


5. A More Coherent Perspectival Method

A corrected approach would follow three methodological steps:

  1. Define the perspectives distinctly
    e.g., semantic content (normative), historical context (situational), personal appropriation (existential)

  2. Identify the specific contribution of each
    What does this perspective reveal that the others cannot?

  3. Then demonstrate their coherence
    Unity is the final result, not the starting point.

This preserves the strength of perspectivalism without sacrificing classical clarity.


Conclusion

Frame’s perspectivalism contains valuable insights, but its misuse—particularly in the conflation of meaning and application—reveals a significant methodological fault. By failing to distinguish the genuine diversity within the perspectives, Frame undermines the explanatory and hermeneutical power of his own model. A more precise and disciplined application of perspectivalism would preserve the distinctions necessary for clarity while still showing the unity of Christian knowledge under the lordship of Christ.

Sunday, November 23, 2025

The Wax Nose of “Infinity”: A Critique of the Misuse of Divine Infinitude in Theology and Its Consequences for Atonement and Eschatology

By Rev. William M. Brennan, TH.D.

Introduction

Few theological terms have caused more confusion, equivocation, and inadvertent error than the word “infinite.” In philosophical theology, infinite has traditionally been applied to God’s being—a move that, if not understood carefully, can mislead both theologian and layperson alike. The term appears noble and venerable, but tradition has wrapped it in layers of conceptual ambiguity. Its modern mathematical meaning (“unending quantity”) competes with its classical metaphysical meaning (“unbounded, without defect”). The result is what Gordon H. Clark called a “nonsense term” when used incautiously, and what others have called a wax nose—a term flexible enough to be shaped into whatever argument one needs.

This essay seeks to accomplish four aims:

  1. To clarify the original classical meaning of infinite as used by theologians.

  2. To expose the modern quantitative meaning that often infiltrates doctrine unnoticed.

  3. To show how the confusion between these two meanings undermines theological arguments, particularly the Anselmian claim that sin against an “infinitely majestic” God requires “infinite punishment.”

  4. To argue that the term infinite should be either radically redefined or abandoned altogether, replaced with clearer concepts like “perfect,” “complete,” and “unchanging.”

The argument proceeds by showing that once infinite is properly understood in its classical sense, Anselm’s argument for eternal conscious torment collapses, because it depends on smuggling in the quantitative meaning of infinity. Theological language must therefore be purged of equivocation to maintain coherence and fidelity to Scripture.


1. The Classical Meaning of “Infinite”: Not Quantity, but Perfection

The first and most important point is this: the classical theological tradition does not use the word “infinite” in the modern mathematical sense of unending quantity or endless process. Thomas Aquinas, Augustine, Boethius, and the Reformed scholastics all used the Latin infinitas to mean “not finite,” which in turn means:

  • not limited

  • not defective

  • not composite

  • not dependent

  • not possessing unrealized potential

In classical metaphysics, infinite means fullness of actuality, not unbounded size or amount. It is a negative term (via negativa): God is “infinite” because He is not bounded by the limitations that characterize creatures.

Thus:

“Infinite” in classical theology = “perfect,” “complete,” “without defect or limitation.”

Yet in English, the plain meaning of infinite suggests:

  • endless increase

  • unending quantity

  • unbounded expansion

  • the mathematical infinite of the number line

This is why the term leads to confusion: it no longer means what classical theology intended. In the modern mind, infinite is nearly always taken quantitatively. The theologian’s meaning and the layman’s meaning have drifted so far apart that the word now functions ambiguously at best and deceptively at worst.


2. The Modern Mathematical Meaning of “Infinity”: A Contradiction to Classical Theism

Modern mathematics defines “infinity” as potential infinity—a process without limit:

  • counting forever

  • adding moments endlessly

  • extending time or number without completion

The key characteristic of mathematical infinity is that it is never complete. It is endless progression.

But classical theology defines God’s being precisely in terms of completeness, fullness, and the absence of potentiality. To say that God is “infinite” in the mathematical sense would contradict divine immutability, simplicity, and perfection. A God who grows, expands, or increases is not the God of Scripture or classical theism.

Thus:

The mathematical infinite is the opposite of the metaphysical infinite.

To call God “infinite” in the modern sense would make Him:

  • mutable

  • unactualized

  • incomplete

  • in process

  • not simple

  • not perfect

Therefore, theologians who use the word infinite but deny these implications are already using the term in a technical, non-mathematical sense—namely, as perfection.


3. Gordon H. Clark’s Critique: Infinity as a “Nonsense Term” Misapplied to God

Gordon H. Clark offers three crucial criticisms of the term infinite as applied to God:

A. Biblical Objection

Clark showed that none of the biblical texts the Westminster Confession appeals to actually say God is “infinite.”
For example:

  • Psalm 147:5: “His understanding is without number,” not “infinite.”

  • Job 22:5: “Thine iniquities are infinite” clearly does not mean literally infinite.

  • Nahum 3:9: “Infinite strength” in KJV is a bad translation.

Clark concludes that the Bible neither uses nor supports “divine infinity.”

B. Logical Objection

Clark argued that:

  • Infinity is a mathematical concept.

  • A truly infinite set can never be completed.

  • But God’s knowledge must be complete.

  • Therefore, God cannot have an infinite number of thoughts or propositions.

In his glossary:

“Infinite…a nonsense term. Nothing exists that is infinite.”
“If God were infinite, He could not know all things.”

In other words: infinity as quantity is incompatible with omniscience.

C. Methodological Objection

Clark accused some modern theologians of dishonesty: they affirm “God is infinite” but then redefine “infinite” to mean “perfect” or “complete,” which is not what the word means in normal English.

This is the “wax nose” problem: the term is so flexible that theologians can shape it however they want, often smuggling in illicit meanings.


4. The Wax Nose of Infinity: How Theologians Accidentally Smuggle in Quantitative Meaning

Even theologians who think they are using the classical definition frequently slip into the modern one when building arguments.

Why? Because the word itself invites quantitative interpretation.

Examples:

  • “God’s infinite love” becomes “love for every possible thing, even evil.”

  • “God’s infinite justice” becomes “justice requiring infinite punishment.”

  • “God’s infinite power” becomes “the power to do contradictions.”

  • “God’s infinite wrath” becomes “endless retributive anger.”

Each of these is a quantitative misunderstanding, not a metaphysical one.

The moment one uses the word “infinite,” the modern mind automatically thinks of size, amount, or duration.

This is precisely how Anselm’s argument for eternal punishment sneaks in a quantitative notion of infinity, even though the classical definition does not support it.


5. Anselm’s Argument and the Hidden Quantitative Infinity

Anselm’s classic reasoning in Cur Deus Homo is:

  1. God is infinitely majestic.

  2. Sin is therefore an offense of infinite magnitude.

  3. A finite creature cannot make satisfaction for an infinite offense.

  4. Therefore the punishment of the sinner is infinite (in duration).

  5. Or only God can make satisfaction (which calls for the Incarnation and the God-man).

At first glance, this seems reasonable. But the logic only holds if “infinite” is used quantitatively at two crucial steps:

  • Step 2: “Infinite magnitude”

  • Step 4: “Infinite duration”

These are not metaphysical infinities; they are mathematical infinities.

Anselm begins with:

  • qualitative infinity (God’s perfection)

but quietly converts it into:

  • quantitative infinity (infinite offense)

and finally into:

  • temporal infinity (eternal punishment)

This is a textbook equivocation fallacy.

Once we restore the classical meaning of “infinite” as “perfect,” the argument collapses:

  • God is perfect in majesty.

  • Sin is a maximal offense.

  • Punishment must be fitting or perfect, not quantitatively infinite.

There is no logical pathway from perfection to infinite duration.


6. Why “Infinite Punishment” Is Conceptually Absurd

Punishment cannot be “infinite” in any coherent sense.

A. Infinite Duration = Mathematical Infinity

“Infinite punishment” is usually taken to mean:

  • unending temporal duration

  • a series of moments without limit

  • an unfinishable process

  • a potential infinite

This is the infinity of numbers, not the infinity of metaphysics.

B. Perfect Punishment ≠ Infinite Punishment

A perfect punishment is:

  • complete

  • fitting

  • just

  • resolved

  • finished

But “infinite duration” is never complete. It is always in progress.

Thus:

An endless punishment is, by definition, an imperfect punishment.

It never accomplishes its purpose.
It never resolves the offense.
It never reaches completion.

If divine perfection guides divine justice, punishment must be perfect, not endless.


7. The Proper Conclusion: Perfect Majesty Requires Perfect Punishment

Your insight is the corrective:

If the offense is against a perfectly majestic Being,
the punishment must be perfect, not infinite.

A perfect punishment may be:

  • proportional

  • purifying

  • restorative

  • corrective

  • temporary

  • aimed at the healing of the offender

  • fitting the moral order God wills to establish

But it need not, and indeed cannot, be infinite in the mathematical sense.

A perfect God administers perfect justice—not infinite suffering.


8. Examples of Theological Missteps Due to Quantitative Infinity

A. Jonathan Edwards

Edwards argued that since God is infinite, sin incurs infinite guilt, requiring infinite punishment. This explicitly equates God’s metaphysical infinity with infinite magnitude.

B. Certain Reformed Scholastics

Some used “infinite justice” as a justification for eternal hell, inadvertently invoking a quantitative notion inconsistent with perfection.

C. Popular Evangelical Apologetics

The phrase “infinite offense against an infinite God deserves infinite punishment” has become a slogan detached from its metaphysical roots.

In all these cases, infinity becomes a wax nose—stretched far beyond its classical sense.


9. The Way Forward: Abandoning or Radically Qualifying “Infinity”

Given all this, theologians should:

Option A: Abandon the term entirely

Instead of calling God “infinite,” describe Him as:

  • perfect

  • complete

  • unchanging

  • immutable

  • simple

  • fully actual

  • lacking nothing

These terms are clearer, biblical, and immune to quantitative distortion.

Option B: Use “infinite” only with severe qualification

If the term must be used (e.g. for historical continuity), it should be defined explicitly as perfection, not quantity.

But the safer route is simply to drop the term.


Conclusion

The term infinite, as traditionally applied to God, is conceptually unstable in modern contexts. Its classical meaning—“without defect or limitation”—has been eclipsed by its modern mathematical meaning—“unending quantity.” This shift has allowed theologians to smuggle quantitative concepts into doctrines where they do not belong, especially in the area of punishment, guilt, and atonement.

The most destructive example is Anselm’s argument for infinite punishment, which depends on equivocating between:

  • metaphysical infinity (perfection)

  • quantitative infinity (magnitude)

  • temporal infinity (duration)

Once infinity is restored to its proper meaning—or abandoned altogether—Anselm’s deduction collapses. We are left not with eternal conscious torment, but with the demand for perfect, fitting, morally complete punishment, consistent with God’s goodness, wisdom, and ultimate purposes.

In this light, “infinite punishment” is not only unnecessary—it is logically impossible. What remains is the perfection of divine justice, which, rather than expressing itself through endless torment, fulfills its purposes in a manner consistent with the character of a perfect, complete, and unchanging God.

Two Perspectives on Permanence

 by Rev. William M. Brennan, TH.D. Temporal “Endlessness,” Celestial Eternity, and the Intervention of Christ Much confusion in Christian ...