Ad Intra: The Gospel of Cosmic Companionship

James Gray's movie Ad Astra is a soulful take on space exploration. Ad Astra is Latin for "to the stars". The film follows Roy McBride's pursuit for his estranged father, Clifford McBride. Clifford is a famous astronaut who spent his life searching for life. That search cut him off from his wife, son, and eventually, his crew. In a sad irony, his "mission" for life led him away from life. (SPOILER!) After a fight with his son, the elder McBridge departs from the station he called home and enters Neptune's orbit a final time. The once great cosmonaut dies as a satellite of a dead planet.

McBride's flaws aside, his desperate search for cosmic company resonates with me. I too, want to know that I am not alone. I want to be reassured that somewhere out there someone is watching with a friendly eye. I doubt I'm alone. We all look at the world around us and long to find a signal of reason. The conflicting pictures of violence and beauty drive us to seek, in a word, reconciliation. We want a vision that reconciles us to the harsh facts of the world while finding firm footing for our ideals and hopes. Yet for many of us moderns, the prospects of this search looks bleak. Camus said that man "feels within him his longing for happiness and for reason. The absurd is born of this confrontation between the human need and the unreasonable silence of the world.” That silence is what McBride must have felt when he saw Neptune for the last time.


The New Testament attests to the human need for reconciliation. The New Testament paints a vivid picture of a place of justice and peace, where the wrongs are righted and where there's a place for everyone at the table. That place is the kingdom of God. But in order to participate in the kingdom, we must be "born from above" (John 3:3), and Jesus is the only one truly "born from above" (v. 31). The space between us is the reason to go ad astra. But the gulf is too wide. Anti-matter engines can only take us so far. What spiritual technology do we have to cross the infinite?

As we were not born from above, God himself entered Earth's atmosphere. He became born from below. "Since the children share in flesh and blood, He Himself likewise shared the same humanity..." (Heb. 2:14-15). Like Clifford, God sent his son (John 3:16) on a 'mission' - a mission to seek, find, and save. Athanasius sums up the significance of the incarnation in these words: "He became what we are so that we can become even what he is."

The gospels illustrate in unique ways how Jesus participates in our condition. In Matthew's account, Jesus shares our condition by re-tracing Israel's steps. As Israel did before him, Jesus goes to Egypt. He then is baptized, reenacting Israel crossing the Red Sea. He then wanders in the wilderness for forty days, recapitulating Israel's forty years in the desert. In all of this, he is sharing in, summing up, and changing Israel's story. Jesus then goes up to the mountainside, just as Moses did before him. You may recall that the people were too afraid to go up with Moses. But Jesus brings them with him. He sits with them and eats with them. And he tells them what it is like to be in the kingdom. "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall see God."

Jesus is God in the flesh, the God-with-us, and he catches us up into his story. Because of everything God has done in the Christ, we no longer have to painfully ask, "Who will go up into heaven?" (Rom. 10:6), because the ruler of heaven has come down. As Christ's diplomats in this war-torn galaxy, we transmit this hopeful message through the airwaves: yes, there is life out there, and his name is King Jesus.

It is finished, it is starting.

While Easter is over, the new creation is not. This is one of the messages the Gospel of John is telling us today. The question for us is, where am I in this story? Am I in Christ, in the new creation? Or am I stuck in the past?

John opens, like Genesis, with the words "In the beginning..." - only here, God is the Word, and with the Word. This Word assumed a human body.

Genesis takes the reader through seven days of creation. John takes us through seven signs of Jesus, starting at a wedding in Cana and ending at a funeral in Capernaum. In both creation accounts, we are led to the culmination in the sixth day, when the peak of God's creation is revealed.  In Genesis, that peak is Adam, the first human.  In John's gospel, it's Jesus, who is the new human. Like Adam, Jesus gives names to people, is lonely, and is tempted. Unlike Adam, Jesus does not buckle to the pressure to be like God. Unlike Adam, Jesus does not see being God as a thing to be grasped. While Adam  became like God, Jesus became like us. The new creation reverses the old.

On the place of the skull are two criminals crucified. Jesus is crucified in the middle, recalling the tree of life planted in the middle of the garden. But the cross is not only the tree of life. It is also the tree of knowledge, for to know Jesus is to have life. And there, on the tree, Jesus invites us to eat the bread that is breaking, the wine that is pouring, to have life in him.

Genesis tells us "on the seventh day God finished the work." Similarly, on the end of the sixth day, Jesus tells us it is finished, signaling the end of his work. On the seventh day, God rests from his creation, and on the seventh day, Jesus rests from his. Finally, on the first day of the week, we find God walking in the garden in the cool of the morning. Jesus also walks, appearing as the gardener.

Here, the gospel might have ended. But it continues, and we must, too. As God breathed into Adam the breath of life, Jesus breathes into the disciples the holy spirit. He is starting something new. The first fruit of the new creation is multiplying. 

Problems with Penal Substitutionary Atonement

1. If Jesus physically died in our place, why do we still physically die?
2. If Jesus' death were enough for our salvation, why does Paul say if he were not risen we would still be in our sins?
3. More to the point, what did Jesus' resurrection accomplish? It seems an unnecessary add-on, assuming PSA.

The Euthyphro Dilemma for Divine Determinists

Is the pious loved by the gods because it is pious, or is it pious because it is loved by the gods?

Ever since Socrates' conversation with Euthyphro, this little riddle has produced oceans of ink about the nature of morality. In its modern form, the dilemma asks, "Is the good good because God commands so, or does God say it is good because it is good?"

If you agree to the first proposition, then you run into the horn of arbitrariness: if God commanded the murder of an innocent child, it would be good and indeed obligatory. It would also seem  that moral propositions do not express objective truths about the world around us.  Finally, it would render the expression "God is good" somewhat incoherent, as "good" is merely shorthand for "whatever God commands." If you agree to the second proposition, however you run into another horn: that morality is independent of God's commands. Unless you're ready to give up the Torah in exchange for the Tao, this is not a palatable option.

One effective response by philosopher Steve Lovell is that morality is rooted in God's nature, not his commands. Thus, moral principles derive their validity ultimately not from God's commands, but his loving and just nature. The good is good because it is derived from God's unchanging character. God commands us to love because we're made in his image, and God is love. There have been some objections to Divine Nature Theory ("DNT") but for now it seems to be the strongest response to the dilemma.

The critical assumption underlying the DNT is that God only commands what he actually wants people to do. A command is only good insofar as it reflects God's actual desires, and thus if God issued a command he secretly did not want fulfilled, DNT would not apply. So for a command to reflect his nature, it reflects his desires.

Can Calvinists avail themselves of DNT? I argue they cannot. Calvinists believe God may command X but in fact strongly desire Y.  This is so because God is the cause of every event, including every violation of his commands. Sometimes referred to as the "two wills of God", it has been a sore point in debates between Arminians and Calvinists. Jonathan Edwards:

The Arminians ridicule the distinction between the secret and revealed will of God, or, more properly expressed, the distinction between the decree and the law of God; because we say he may decree one thing, and command another. And so, they argue, we hold a contrariety in God, as if one will of his contradicted another.

Edwards then argues there is no contradiction between God's commanding one thing and desiring another, since where the two wills diverge, God does not actually desire that the command be followed. Since the two wills are defined differently, and only the secret will reflects God's actual desires, their divergence does not imply contradiction. I agree with Edwards here.  The two wills doctrine as crafted by Calvinists is not contradictory.

Nevertheless, by divorcing God's commands from his desires, Edwards exposes his theology to the horns of the dilemma. God's commands do not reflect his desires in every instance those commands are not followed (which is nearly all the time!). As such, Calvinists cannot benefit from DNT. They can't reasonably claim God's moral commands reflect his actual desires for human beings, when most of the time they do not. And since they do not reflect his actual desires, they are not rooted in his nature (since his desires express his nature). 

So then, it seems Calvinists face three choices: give up a coherent morality. Give up God's sovereignty. Or, propose their own solution to the Euthyphro dilemma. I'm all ears for another way out. 

The function of the 'remnant' in Romans 11

The 'remnant' of Israel reveal's God's continuing faithfulness to the nation of Israel.

I ask then: Did God reject his people? By no means! I am an Israelite myself, a descendant of Abraham, from the tribe of Benjamin.

As a member of the tribe of Benjamin, Paul is an ethnic Israelite. As a Christian, he is a member of the 'remnant'. He cites his dual membership as a token that God didn't reject "his people". As FF Bruce puts it, the remnant receives tokens of grace meant to be distributed to all without distinction.

Likewise, Tim Gallant writes, the current state of preservation is not to be understood as the permanent ideal; it is the means to an end, the bridge to a further destination.

Calvinism and the Security of Atonement

More thoughts about Calvinism.

I've often heard that in Calvinism, Jesus' death actually "secured" our salvation, whereas in Arminianism it only made it possible.  Actually, I think in Calvinism Jesus' death didn't secure our salvation. 

What does it mean to "secure" one's salvation?  Let's start with what it can't mean.  It can't mean that it was the final event necessary to make you saved, and most Calvinists agree.  Regeneration and faith are also necessary preludes to salvation. 

But perhaps we can understand "secure" to mean "guarantee".  And here's the test that something has secured our salvation.  It's secured our salvation in the sense that because of it, it is now impossible for us not to be saved. 

Given this understanding of security, then given Calvinism, Jesus' death secured our salvation in the sense that by his dying for us, he made it impossible for us not to be saved.  His death thus guaranteed our salvation. 

But for Jesus' death to make our salvation secure, our salvation must have been insecure prior to his death.  But this is impossible, given Calvinism.  Long before Jesus died, God decreed and predestined our salvation.  And that decree made it certain that we would be saved.  If it was already made certain by God's decree, it could not have been "made" certain or "secured" by any other event in or out of history.  Thus, Given Calvinism, Jesus' death could not have secured one's salvation.  

Calvinism and Secondary Causation

Al-Ghazali, the medieval Islamic philosopher-mystic, famously argued that the prevailing Aristotelian conception of causation was wrong for one main reason: Since God is the cause of every event, nothing else could be the cause of any. Take any instance of cause and effect: drinking water satisfying thirst; eating satisfying hunger; the strike of a match to fire. To Ghazali, what seems to be causation is merely association:

For the connexion in these things is based on a prior power of God to create them in a successive order, though not because this connexion is necessary in itself and cannot be disjoined-on the contrary, it is in God’s power to create satiety without eating, and death without decapitation, and to let life persist notwithstanding the decapitation, and so on with respect to all connexions... Indeed, the philosophers have no other proof than the observation of the occurrence of the burning, when there is contact with fire, but observation proves only a simultaneity, ‘ not a causation, and, in reality, there is no other cause but God. Al-Ghazali, Incoherence of the Philosophers

So God and his angels fabricate every event from scratch. What we see as one seamless reality is a series of creations woven around and in us in quick succession. For Ghazali, the upshot was a God who is in and around and beyond and besides. God is greatest when he creates, so he must be constantly creating! Ghazali's philosophy (called occasionalism today) was influential in his time but seems too fantastic to be taken seriously today. However, his argument can be modernized and applied to another school of religious thought that is far closer to mainstream Christian thought.

What Calvinism Teaches

As explained by the Westminster Confession, Calvinism affirms that

in relation to the foreknowledge and decree of God, the first Cause, all things come to pass immutably, and infallibly; yet, by the same providence, He orders them to fall out, according to the nature of second causes, either necessarily, freely, or contingently.

According to the confession, every event that occurs is caused by God's decrees. God is the "first" cause. Every event he decrees occurs immutably and infallibly (adjectives we normally apply to God himself). The confession goes on to clarify that everything occurs, not by God's "bare permission, but such as has joined with it a most wise and powerful bounding." God doesn't just let things happen. He causes things to happen immutably and infallibly. However - and here's where it gets interesting - these events follow after "secondary" causes.

So, in sum, every event that occurs was decreed by God to occur. God's decree is the sufficient cause of any given event. By "sufficient cause" I mean that once God issues the decree, it is certain that the event will occur. That's how I define the Calvinist doctrine of God's providence. I know not all Calvinists would describe it the way I have - some, like Piper and Sproul have used permissive language to describe God's decretive will. If they really mean it, then I'm not talking about their conception of providence.

The Problem: Moral Responsibility

Assuming God's providence as Calvinists see it, how can God not be guilty of sin? The traditional response, encapsulated within the confession quoted above, is that God doesn't commit sin because he ordains it indirectly via human actors who commit the sin. This explanation seeks to distinguish God, the "first" cause, from man, the "second" cause. The person who immutably, infallibly predetermines the commission is the first cause. The person who commits the sin is the second cause.

I think this explanation is unsatisfactory for a number of reasons, but for now I highlight a critical assumption: man's actions are causes too. I argue that, assuming a Calvinistic conception of providence, then no secondary causes could exist. If no secondary causes exist, God is not only the first cause but also the only cause.

What do I mean by "cause"? 

For now, I'll assume a counter-factual definition of causation. A causes B in the sense if A hadn't happened, B would not have happened. The rain caused the floor to be wet because if it hadn't rained, the floor would not have been wet. This is the most intuitive sense of causation (at least to me), and also bears the advantage of being the model used in most courts to adjudicate issues of causation.

The doctrine of God's decretive will is cloaked in mystery - how exactly does a decree cause an event? Does a decree violate the laws of thermodynamics? Does a decree come true like magic or is it administered by angels? However mysterious they are, however, God's decrees have to be causal at least in the counter-factual sense. God’s decree is a cause of X, Y and Z. Had God not decreed X, Y or Z, they would not have occurred. Thus, God's decrees are the counter-factual causes of X, Y and Z. That shouldn’t be controversial. If decrees aren't counter-factual causes, then necessarily, events may occur even absent any decree, which means the collapse of the Calvinistic doctrine of God's providence. So God's decrees are counter-factual causes, okay? Okay.

The Argument 

Let's suppose God decrees that X at T1. Let's call this decree Decree 1. God also decrees that Y happen at T2, very soon after T2. Let's call this Decree 2. X represents "John lighting the tablecloth on fire". Y represents "the tablecloth bursts into flames."

For X to have caused Y in the counter-factual sense, then had X not happened, Y would not have happened. But here, God decreed both X and Y. Thus, if X had not occurred, Y would have still happened, since God decreed Y. Thus, X could not have been a cause of Y. It's not lighting the tablecloth on fire that causes it to burst into flames. It's Decree 2 that causes it to burst into flames. Sure, you might have seen the cloth burst into flames soon after it catches fire. But as Al-Ghazali has taught us, looks can be deceiving.

You can generalize this with any event, and the same result follows. Just look at any event and identify the putative cause and effect (X and Y). Then ask, Did God decree X, and did God decree Y? If he did, then X could not have caused Y. As Ghazali concludes, in "reality, there is no cause but God." And if there's no cause but God, there are no secondary causes. And if no secondary causes, no grounds for man's responsibility.

Perhaps I can distill all of this into a syllogism.

1. Y occurred.
2. X occurred before Y.
3. Whatever occurs is decreed by God.
4. Therefore, Y was decreed by God.
5.  If X did not occur, Y would still occur.  (logically follows from [4]).
6. Therefore, X was not the cause of Y.

Cheers,
Finney