Gregory S. Boyd, Satan and the Problem of Evil: Constructing a trinitarian warfare theodicy. Downers Grove IL: 2001.

Introduction

Boyd contrasts his worldview–he calls it the warfare worldview–with the ‘blueprint’ worldview, originating with Augustine (354–430 AD) and beloved of Calvin and Luther, whereby all events, good and evil, are ultimately part of God’s purposes. This makes God responsible for evil. Boyd’s position contrasts sharply with this: God is not responsible for evil. He created human beings and angels with free will. This necessarily entails their ability to choose between good and evil.¹ There is thus a war going on between God and the forces of evil, both human and spiritual. Hence God’s ‘general will for world history cannot fail, his particular will for individuals often does.’ (15) Boyd argues that God created human beings to be able to love, as love is the essence of the Trinity. To be able to love requires being able to make free choices, and brings with it the possibility of love’s opposite, which is war (16-17).

Blueprint theodicies usually assert that human beings have free will but that there is always a divine reason for their acts, good or evil. Boyd writes, ‘Defenders of blueprint theodicies have made valiant attempts to argue that it is logically possible to affirm that agents are free and that there is a specific divine purpose behind their behavior, whether they believe this behavior is specifically ordained or specifically allowed by God. I do not believe any of these attempts have been successful…’ (19).

Boyd’s theological method is based on ‘Wesley’s methodological quadrangle of Scripture, reason, experience and tradition as the criteria for theological truth.’ (20) He comments, ‘Scripture may lead us to accept paradoxes (such as the incarnation and the Trinity), but it never requires that we accept contradictions, which are devoid of meaning.’ (22)

 

Ch 1: The World at War: The Warfare Worldview of the Bible & the Early Church

The Old Testament

The first half of the chapter draws on warfare images from the Old Testament. These don’t mention Satan, but draw on ancient Middle Eastern mythology, where the enemy is the hostile and sinister waters of the sea that surround the earth or one of the sea monsters Leviathan or Rahab (30-33). There is also a heavenly council of of ‘gods’ or ‘angels’ whose members do not always do God’s will. The most poignant example is in Psalm 82 (33-35). Significant throughout the Old Testament, though, is the fact that it is always Yahweh who battles on Israel’s behalf.

The New Testament

God’s battle against opposing forces becomes much clearer in Jesus’s ministry, which is underlain by the apolcalyptic assumption that God is battling a cosmic power that has seized hold of creation. ‘Jesus understood himself to be the one in whom this battle was to be played out in a decisive way.’ Jesus refers to Satan as arkhōn ‘prince’, acknowledging that he is the highest power in this fallen world. When Satan offers Jesus power over all the kingdoms of the world, Jesus does not refute the implicit claim that Satan has this power (Luke 4:5-6; cf 1 Jn 5:19, 2 Cor 4:4, Eph 2:2). He sees him as commander of a demonic army (Mt 9:34, 25:41) (35). This army could only be defeated when “one stronger than he attacks him and overpowers him” and thus “takes away his armor in which he trusted” (Lk 11:22). Jesus saw himself doing this. “If it is by the finger of God that I cast out the demons,” Jesus teaches, “then the kingdom of God has come to you” (Lk 11:20). Jesus would defeat the kingdom of Satan, so that it could be pillaged by the church. One thing is clear throughout: Jesus never suggests that disease or demonisation serve God’s purposes (36).

Theodicies of the church in which Satan plays a major role have been uncommon since Augustine propounded his blueprint view, but this is not the theodicy of the New Testament (37).

Through the cross Jesus ‘destroyed the power of the devil (1 Jn 3:8; Heb 2:14), disarmed the principalities and powers (Col 2:14-15), and put all God’s enemies under his feet (Eph 1:22; Heb 1:13). But the New Testament does not conclude that Satan has ceased being in control of this world, and this gives rise to the ‘already but not yet’ tension in the New Testament. Satan has been defeated, but God’s victory on earth has not yet been fully realised. ‘Applying this victory to the rest of the world is the primary business of the church, the body of Christ.’ (38)

The theodicy of the early postapostolic church fathers

The early postapostolic church fathers are unanimous in their assumption that the source of evil in the world is the wrongful exercise of free will by Satan and other fallen angels and by humans. These writers include Justin Martyr (100-165 AD), Tatian (120–180 AD), Theophilus of Antioch (d. 183–185 AD), Irenaeus (130–202 AD), Athenagoras (133-190 AD), Clement of Alexandria (150–215 AD), Tertullian (160–220 AD) and Origen (185–254 AD) (39-43).

‘Irenaeus and other post-apostolic fathers affirm that the Creator is omnipotent even though he does not always get his way. Things go wrong, sometimes very wrong, and when they do these early fathers do not look for a divine reason to explain it.’ (43) ’This thinking is far removed from Augustine’s later doctrine of predestination and his understanding of evil as always mysteriously fulfilling a positive divine role.’ (43fn). Thus the early fathers ‘suggest that the possibility of evil is built into the nature of freedom and that creatures had to possess freedom if they were to be capable of moral virtue.’ (49)

 

Ch 2: The free fall: Free will and the origin of evil:

The burden of this chapter is that love must be freely chosen, and this presupposes freedom of the will. This idea doesn’t originate with Boyd. He cites various writers at the beginning of the chapter, among than C.S. Lewis in Mere Christianity (51):

Free will is what has made evil possible. Why, then, did God give [creatures] free will? Because free will, though it makes evil possible, is also the only thing that makes possible any love or goodness or joy worth having.

Boyd asks, How come God created a world in which he must genuinely fight to accomplish his will and in which his will is sometimes thwarted? ‘How is it that God created a world that is so radically out of sync with his character?’ His answer echoes Lewis’s: ‘In this chapter I will submit what I regard to be the first condition of love: it must be freely chosen. It cannot be coerced.’

He contrasts his own view, ‘self-determining freedom’ (sometimes unfortunately known as ‘libertarian freedom’), with ‘compatibilistic freedom’, the view that in a universe in which everything is determined by God, free will still exists (52).

Love and freedom

The first of the six theses of Boyd’s trinitarian warfare theodicy is that love must be chosen (TWT1). Throughout scripture people and angels say ’no’ to God. This presupposes that they were created with the capacity to choose. But nothing in scripture suggests this ’no’ is part of God’s design, and scripture tells us that God does not want anyone to be lost (e.g. 1 Tim 2:4; 4:10; 2 Pet 3:9). It is just that “the possibility of saying ‘no’ to God must be entailed by the possibility of saying ‘yes’ to him.” (53)

Some biblical texts that can be interpreted to support a compatibilist position,² but this leaves incoherent the biblical motif of God’s frustration over human stubbornness. People can and do resist God (e.g., Is 63:10; Acts 7:51; Heb 3:8, 15; 4:7, cf. Eph 4:30) and he is grieved, even amazed, at how ‘stiff-necked’ people can be in resisting him (e.g., Ex 33:3, 5; 34:9; Deut 9:6, 13; 10:16; 31:27; Judg 2:19; 2 Kings 17:14; 2 Chron 30:8; 36:13; Neh 9:16; Is 46:12; 48:4; 5:1-7; Jer 3:6-7, 19-20; Jer 7:26, 31; 19:5; 32:3; Hos 4:16). God created a world in which this grief over sin was possible because he could not rule it out if he wanted a world that had the possibility of love. (53–54) ‘If God desires a bride made up of people who genuinely love him— who do not just act lovingly toward him—he must create people who have the capacity to reject him. …. And this … explains why God created a world in which evil was possible.’ (55)

Self-determining freedom

To define self-determining freedom Boyd quotes Kane (1996:57):³ ‘The agent might have done otherwise, all past circumstances (including the agent’s motives and willings) and all laws of nature remaining the same.” (emphasis original) (56)

Compatibilistic freedom

Compatibilism asserts that you can still be free even if God (or anything else) determines all events in your life. You are free if nothing constrains you from doing what you want, but you are not free to decide what you want. What you want is orchestrated by God. In God, wrote Augustine, ‘resides the power which acts on the wills of all created spirits’ (City of God 4.10). He argued that you are nonetheless morally responsible for your actions (57–58).

Boyd regards this position as problematic. A coherent view of moral behaviour requires that the doer is the final cause of that behaviour.⁴ ‘Simply being able to do what you want does not render one free or morally responsible if the want itself is outside of one’s control.’ (emphasis original) (59–60) What is more, the problems of free will and evil are intimately connected: if God causes even a criminal’s wants, then God is responsible for evil (61). Boyd offers a number of arguments against determinism, but they have to do with the idea that free will is illusory because everything we do is determined by our genes and our experience (61–64). This ends up in the paradox that if all our actions are determined, then so too is our belief that all our actions are determined (64–65).

Compatibilism also provides no satisfactory explanation of either our basic sense of morality or our experience of ourselves as making choices (65, 67). Boyd grants that we are, of course, not totally free. We cannot choose to fly to the shops. But he argues that within such constraints we exercise free will (65). Each time I deliberate about a choice, I presuppose my own freedom (68).

An objection to self-determining freedom

The objection is that a decision is either caused or uncaused. If it is caused, it isn’t free. If it is uncaused, it is random. However, Boyd argues that an uncaused decision is not random, and is not an incoherent concept, otherwise we would not be able to apply it to God, yet even the most convinced compatibilist does apply it to God (68-70). What is more, if the concept of an uncaused decision is coherent, then it must have some experiential content, even if we cannot fully explain it. We cannot explain consciouness, but the concept has experiential content (70).

The argument that a decision must be caused equates causation with determinism, but the equation is false. We know from quantum mechanics that a situation can exist in which causation is at best probabilistic. If this is conceivable at the quantum level, it is also conceivable at the human level, and accords with experience (cf Kane 1996:146) (70-73).

A theological argument against self-determining freedom is as follows. If I believe I make a free choice in accepting the love of God revealed in Jesus, then I have made a choice that has merit. But this is contrary to the claim that I am incapable of merit-bearing choices because I was “dead” in sin (Eph 2:1) and we are “by nature children of wrath” (Eph 2:3). It is also contrary to Paul’s affirmation that I am saved by God’s grace, through faith alone (Eph 2:8-9). This argument has been pushed especially by R.C. Sproul (e.g. 1997), but, says Boyd, it suffers from a difficulty. It claims that God alone chooses who will be saved, contradicting the uniform scriptural position that God’s love is impartial and universal (Acts 10:34; cf. Deut 10:17-19; 2 Chron 19:7; Job 34:19; Is 55:4-5; Mk 12:14; Jn 3:16; Rom 2:10-11; Eph 6:9; 1 Pet 1:17), that God is grieved by human rejection of his love (see above), and that he desires everyone to be saved (2 Pet 3:9; 1 Tim 2:4, 4:10; 1 Jn 2:2) and saves all who believe in him (John 3:16). Thus the Calvinist position is based on logical inferences that contradict scripture. Boyd argues that ‘The conclusion that we cannot attribute our salvation to God’s grace if we have to choose is mistaken.’ A gift is no less a gift because I choose to accept it. In the first covenant, God says, ‘I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Choose life so that you and your descendants may live.’ (Deut 30:15-19). Sproul is wrong: there is nothing merit-bearing about our acceptance (78-83).

 

Ch 3: A risky creation: Divine foreknowledge and the trinitarian warfare worldview

The quotations at the head of this chapter show that others have has similar thoughts to Boyd about the riskiness if creation.

In creating beings with free will, omnipotence from the outset submits to the possibility of . . . defeat. What you call defeat, I call miracle: for to make things which are not Itself and thus to become . . . capable of being resisted by its own handiwork, is the most astonishing and unimaginable of all the feats we attribute to the Deity. C. S. Lewis, The problem of pain

The happiness God desires for His creatures is . . . ecstasy of love. . . . And for that they must be free. C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

God knows all things. . . . The things he knows are partly divine and immortal, partly perishable and temporal. . . . His knowledge of uncertain things . . . cannot be different from their nature. . . . They are . . . possible in both directions rather than subject to necessity. . . . So contingent things are not inflexibly arranged and determined from the beginning with the sole exception of the very fact, that they must be uncertain. Calcidius (early 4th century), On fate

The second thesis, Freedom implies risk (TWT2) follows from the first (Love must be chosen). If we are genuinely able to choose, then God has not entirely determined the future. He has taken the risk that his creatures might reject him (85-86).

Does God have exhaustively definite foreknowledge?

Many Christians believe that God has exhaustively definite foreknowledge (EDF) but also espouse a warfare theodicy. Boyd expresses respect for them, but thinks their view is somewhat inconsistent. Instead he adopts a view of the future as partially open. However, he sees this as an in-house Arminian discussion, not as something crucial to the church’s unity (86-87).

Boyd argues that God either has EDF, knowingly creating individuals who are damned, or he doesn’t: he takes the risk that they will choose damnation (88).

Between these two positions are two others. One is ‘simple foreknowledge’: God knows the future but can’t change it. He thus creates individuals he knows will be damned, but can’t do otherwise. This view contradicts the scriptural position that whenever God expresses foreknowledge, he does it in order to assert sovereignty over the future. It also denies the possibility of God responding to prayer and renders his foreknowledge irrelevant (88-90). The second view is the classical Arminian position, as expressed by Cottrell (1989:111) (89):

God has a true foreknowledge of future free-will choices without himself being the agent that causes them or renders them certain. . . . This is how God maintains sovereign control over the whole of his creation, despite the freedom he has given his creatures.

The open view of the future also

affirms that God is omniscient, knowing the past, present and future perfectly. But it also affirms that the future decisions of self-determining agents are only possibilities until agents freely actualize them. (90-91)

Boyd writes somewhat obscurely In a footnote on p91

The possibilities in question are ontological, not just epistemological. Those who affirm EDF may yet hold that the future consists of a realm of possibilities. But the indefiniteness of these possibilities, they must admit, is merely epistemological—due to our limited frame of reference. For God there are no genuine “maybes.” Everything is definitely this way and definitely not another. It is not for God possibly this way and possibly another.

Scripture on God’s determination of the future

However, the final court of appeal for Boyd is scripture, and there are a number of passages in Isaiah where God foretells what he will do, then does it (Is 42:8-9), in order to show that he is the God of history, not some idol (Is 44:7-8; 46:9-11; 48:3-5). The things these passages refer to are sending the Israelites into exile and then restoring them to Israel. The passages tell us that God controls history, in the sense that he does what he decides to do, but they do not tell us that he has EDF or determines everything in advance (92-93).

For example, God told Jonah to announce that Nineveh would be destroyed in 40 days (Jon 3:4), but the Ninevites repented and God changed his mind (Jon 3:9-10). God told King Hezekiah that he was about to die, but Hezekiah prayed and God granted him 15 more years of life (2 Kings 20:5-6; Is 38:5-6). Because of the way Paul uses the image of the potter and the clay in Romans 9:2-23, some Christians have concluded that God determines everything, but the original context of the image in Jeremiah (18:6−11) is the opposite: it is about God’s willingness to be flexible, to change his mind whenever he pleases. God again tells Jeremiah to tell the Israelites that he is willing to change his mind ( Jeremiah 26: 2-3). (93-97)

Defenders of the EDF doctrine, including Calvin, have claimed that these passages are anthropomorphic, but this is problematic. Anthropomorphism is a form of metaphor, but it is not clear what this metaphor is supposed to mean. This claim also creates a canon within a canon: some passages are to be taken as true, others not (97-100).

God moves with us in time

There are passages that show God facing a partially open future. He is disappointed that what he hoped for did not happen:

And I thought, “After she has done all this she will return to me”; but she did not return. (Jer 3:6-7, also 19-20)

Similarly Is 5:1-4 (100-101). Thus God thought it probable that Israel would respond in a particular way, but Israel did the less probable (101-102).

Sometimes God expresses his frustration by asking questions about the future. “How long will this people despise me?,” the Lord asks. “And how long will they refuse to believe in me, in spite of all the signs that I have done among them?” (Num 14:11; cf. 1 Kings 22:20; Hos 8:5). The Lord had performed miracles expecting the Israelites to believe him. This too suggests that the future is partly open. (102)

The Bible sometimes depicts God as regretting his decisions:

the LORD was sorry that he had made humankind on the earth, and it grieved him to his heart” (Gen 6:6).

God regrets his decision to make Saul king of Israel (1 5am 15: 11, 35). He had intended to bless him (1 Sam 13:13) but Saul’s rebellious behaviour causes him to change his mind. (102-103)

Nonetheless God knows all future possibilities and all future certainties, and is in control of the overall flow of history. He is never unprepared, and can always redeem evil for good. He is always confident of his ability to achieve his overall purposes (103).

Hearing rumors that Saul might besiege Keilah in his attempt to capture him, David asks God,

“O LORD, the God of Israel, your servant has heard that Saul seeks to come to Keilah, to destroy the city on my account. And now, will Saul come down as your servant has heard?” . . . The LORD said, “He will come down.” Then David said, “Will the men of Keilah surrender me and my men into the hand of Saul?” The LORD said, “They will surrender you.” (1 Sam 23:10-12)

This sounds like a prophecy, but significantly it doesn’t happen, as David and his men leave the town. God is talking about a possibility, not a certainty. The converse happens when God tells Paul through Agabus that he will be bound by the Jews and handed over to the Gentiles if he goes to Jerusalem. His friends warn him not to go—they take this as a warning, not an inevitability, but Paul goes anyway (Acts 21: 11-12). Even so, the actual events differ from the prophecy: the Jews do not bind Paul and hand him over to the Romans; rather, the Romans rescue Paul from the Jews who are about to kill him (21:27−33). God does not seem to have EDF. (104)

Throughout the Old Testament God often tests his covenant partners to find out whether they will remain faithful to him. For example, after Abraham passes God’s ‘test’ (Gen 22:1) by being willing to sacrifice his son, the Lord declares, “now I know that you fear God, since you have not withheld your son” (Gen 22:12). God does not display EDF here. Similarly the Lord forbids the Israelites in the wilderness from gathering more than a day’s ration of manna because he wants to “test them, whether they will follow my instruction or not” (Ex 16:4).(I06)

In Ezekiel 22:29-31 God says of his people that they

have oppressed the poor and needy, and have fromextorted from the alien without redress. And I sought for anyone among them who would repair the wall and stand in the breach before me on behalf of the land, so that I would not destroy it; but I found no one. Therefore I have poured out my indignation upon them. (vv. 29-31).

That is, God looked for someone who would stand in the gap on Israel’s behalf but found no one. The only legitimate reading is that God did not have foreknowledge here.

We are told that the names of the faithful are written in the book of life, but will be deleted if they fall away from God (Heb 6:3-6; 2 Pet 2:20-22; Rev 3:5). If God has EDF this makes little sense.

Although Jesus said that only the Father knows the day and hour of Christ’s return (Mk 13:32), Peter suggests that God has delayed it because he is “patient with you, not wanting any to perish” (2 Pet 3:9). Further, Peter encourages believers to be “waiting for and hastening the coming of the day of God” (v. 12) and Paul and the early Christians prayed for the Lord to come quickly (1 Cor 16:22; Rev 22:20). This implies that, even though the time of the second coming will be decided by God, he will only decide it when he sees the time is ripe. (109)

The Omniresourceful God

In Exodus 3-4 God doesn’t know how many miracles it will take to persuade the elders of Egypt to let the Hebrews go (109-110). God tells Jeremiah (26:3) and Ezekiel (12:3) respectively that the audience to whom they speak may understand. In the latter case they don’t. But God would hardly have said this if he had known that they wouldn’t (111). God often talks to his people in an “if . . . if not” manner (Jer 22:4-5; 1 Ki 9:4-7 (Fretheim 1997; 111-112).

Boyd argues that ‘the passages that suggest that God faces a partly open future do not conflict with those that depict God as the all-powerful, sovereign, majestic Lord of history.’ God could control everything if he chose to, but in his wisdom he decided to create a world with free agents. At the same time his wisdom allows him to accomplish his purposes despite—and sometimes through—the rebelliousness of his creatures (112). God is like the chess champion who does not know all her opponent’s moves in advance but confident that she has the superior knowledge to win (112-113). ‘But’, says Boyd, ‘this vast foreknowledge is of possibilities, not of future certainties.’ And ‘Though open theists are often accused of limiting God’s knowledge or of undermining his sovereignty, this understanding of the future serves to increase our appreciation of God’s knowledge and power.’ (114)⁵

Conclusion

Boyd concludes, ‘If the case made in this chapter for a partially open future is accepted, it is possible to ascribe risk to God for the sake of love without concluding that God is not in control of the world.’ (115)

 

Ch 4: A question of balance: Issues surrounding the foreknowledge of God and the openness of the future

This chapter is concerned with arguments against the open view of the future.

A salient argument is based on Romans 8:29-30.

For those God foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the likeness of his Son, that he might be the firstborn among many brothers. And those he predestined, he also called; those he called, he also justified; those he justified, he also glorified.

Boyd points out that if ’foreknew’ is intended in its cognitive meaning, then ‘those God foreknew’ also implies the existence of those God didn’t foreknow. But he thinks ‘knew’ is intended in its characteristically Semitic sense of ‘loved’, i.e. ‘loved in advance’ (cf Rom 11:2, where God ‘foreknows’ Israel) and that the reference is to the church collectively as the bride of Christ, not to individuals (117-119).

Numerous Old Testament prophecies point forward to the coming of Jesus, and early Christians clearly saw Jesus’ coming as foreordained. In Acts 2:23 Peter refers to Jesus as being “handed over to you according to the definite plan and foreknowledge of God” to be “crucified and killed.” In Acts 4:27-28 early Christians proclaimed that

Herod and Pontius Pilate, with the Gentiles and the peoples of Israel, gathered together against your holy servant Jesus, whom you anointed, to do whatever your hand and your plan had predestined to take place.

But these passages are no problem for an open future view which claims only that the future is partially open in order to make love possible. It does not assert that God lacks foreknowledge of his own actions (119-120).

God appears to have predestined an evil act in the shape of the crucifixion. That it was God’s plan is true, but, contra certain critics of Open Theism, the moral responsibility for it still lies with those who did it, including Judas, who was the way he was because he had hardened himself, not because God had picked him out. God determined the event, but not exactly who would do what (121-123).

Middle knowledge

The idea that God does not know all future events , but does know every future possibility is known as ‘middle knowledge’ (124). The advocates of this idea are known as Molinists, as the idea that goes back to Luis de Molina in the 16th century.⁶ Boyd’s discussion of Molinism is quite technical (124–128), and I pass over it here,⁷ other than to say that in Boyd’s view Open Theism is not identical with Molinism but could be labelled ’neo-Molinist’. I quote his conclusion:

According to this neo-Molinist perspective, God perfectly knows from all time what will be, what would be, and what may be. And he sovereignly sets the parameters for all three categories. Moreover, because God possesses infinite intelligence, his knowledge of might-counterfactuals leaves him no less prepared for the future than his knowledge of determinate aspects of creation. . . . Hence, whatever possibility ends up coming to pass, we may say that from all eternity God was preparing for just this possibility, as though it were the only possibility that could ever possibly occur. Even when possibilities occur that are objectively improbable—and to this extent surprise or disappoint God—it is not at all the case that he is caught off guard. He is as perfectly prepared for the improbable as he is for the probable.(128-129)

This provides a basis for Boyd’s critique of Ware’s (2000) attack on Open Theisim as depicting a ‘hand-wringing God’ who can’t assure us of his ultimate victory, a characterisation that does not correspond at all with Boyd’s view of God.

One event that has been used against Open Theism is Jesus’ prediction of Peter’s denial. I find Boyd’s response to this unsatisfactory. He says God knew what sort of character Peter possessed and decided to set up situations in which Peter would deny Jesus. He then told Jesus that this would happen. This is, Boyd argues, not convincing support for God’s EDF. However, the fact that Jesus’ predicted how many times Peter would deny Jesus seems to me to undermine Boyd’s case. Even if God did not foreordain these events, he knew of them (130-133).

A philosophical argument

Next comes a philosophical argument which I may not have understood. In essence Boyd appears to be saying that if God has always known all future events, and they cannot be changed, then I cannot be held morally responsible for them and therefore lack free will (133-134).

Physics and the open future

Boyd draws attention to the indeterminate behaviour of quantum particles as evidence from physics that the future is partly open. Einstein thought that this indeterminacy was illusory (i.e. had an unrecognised cause), but most quantum physicists today take it to be real.⁸ He also considered time to be an illusion, but if the behaviour of particles really is indeterminate, then a particle event is unpredictable before it occurs and unalterable afterwards (136-138).⁹

Events really do transition from indefinite possibilities to actual realities, and the ultimate explanation as to what this actual reality shall be cannot be located outside the particle. Something genuinely new has taken place, something that could not have been exhaustively predicted, and something that cannot now be reversed. (138)

Polkinghorne notes that considerations of the role of indeterminacy in quantum physics (1989:79):¹⁰

emphasize how different time is from space [and] how seriously we must take its unfolding as a process of genuine becoming. The future is not already formed ahead of us, waiting to reveal itself to our exploration, as the fixed contours of a valley reveal themselves to the traveler who makes his ways through them. The future is in part our creation: its shape is responsive to our molding, as the clay is formed by the sculptor to create his irreducibly new thing, which is his work of art. If even the omnipotent God cannot act to change the past, it does not seem any more conceivable that the omniscient God can know with certainty the unformed future. (138-139).

There follows a highly technical discussion of the philosophical implications of Einstein’s Theory of Relativity. On the basis of the numerous Old Testament texts mentioned earlier Boyd denies the claim by some that the theory requires that God be outside time and thus able to see the future as clearly as he sees the past. He concedes, however, that God’s perception of chronological sequence must be different from ours (139-142).

 

Ch 5: Love and war: Risk and the sovereignty of God

General Control and Individual Freedom

A common objection to the idea of a risk-taking God is that his ultimate victory over evil is not guaranteed and he is therefore not truly sovereign. Indeed, in Sproul’s terms (1986:26;1994:3) he can’t exist unless he is sovereign in this sense (145-147). But this presupposes that sovereignty equals control, a supposition that lacks biblical support. And, writes Boyd,

Can we not conceive of a God who is so great that he dares to create agents who can, to some extent, make autonomous decisions? . . .If we who are made in God’s image naturally desire a healthy element of novelty, risk and adventure, why should we assume that the opposite is true of God? (147-148)

In daily life we don’t respect leaders who seek to control. We admire those who are able to influence us because of our respect for their character. This was the early church fathers’ view of God. If we argue that God cannot be like this, we restrict his omnipotence (!) (Lewis 1962:27). This applies both to Sproul’s extreme position and to more traditional views of EDF (148-151).

Boyd returns to Polkinghorne on quantum theory: the regularity of the universe is statistical—we cannot predict the behaviour of a single particle, but we can predict overall regularity (1988:341)(152-153). Polkinghorne (1996:41-42), Boyd writes, ‘relates this to God’s love, which grants the world independence (hence a role for chance), as well as to God’s faithfulness, which gives the world its regularity.’ (152fn)

This ‘deterministic-indeterministic complementarity’ (Boyd’s term) is evidenced in many other ways: in sociologists’ observations of human society, in a colony of ants or bees, in a flock of birds in flight or the migration patterns of various animals.

Predictions can be made about each of these, but not about the behaviours of their individual members. Similarly, there is no contradiction in asserting that God will achieve his objectives in history, even if he does not predict the behaviour if each individual. God’s acievement of his objectives is also certain because he doesn’t give up (153-158).

On trusting God

Opponents of Open Theism argue that we cannot trust a God who is not in total control of the universe. This raises the question, what should we trust God for? Boyd recounts the story of a girl who came to him becauseof her inability to trust God. It emerged that she was the daughter of missionary parents and had been raped by another missionary at the age of nine. She was told to forgive him and not to mention the event again. She was also assured that God has his purpose in every event. Small wonder that she had difficulty trusting God, when she had long known that human beings acting out of free will would not always keep her safe. As a result she was angry with God (158-159). Events like this reveal a theological contradiction. Boyd writes,

We are supposed to accept such tragedies as somehow fitting into God’s plan—and yet we are supposed to trust God for protection from such tragedies! Could anyone have pieced together a more contradictory—and for victims like Laura, a more tormenting—theological puzzle? (159)

God does not guarantee that evil will not happen to us. Indeed Jesus tells us to expect it (Mt 5:11, 44; 16:24-25; Lk 12:53; 21:12; Jn 15:20; 16:33; 21:18-19), and so do the writers of the epistles (Heb 12:3; Jas 5:10; 1 Pet 2:20-21), who see this world as a spiritual warfare zone (1 John 5:19, 2 Cor 4:4). People quote Jeremiah 29:11 (For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the LORD, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope) but it is about God’s immediate and specific plan for Israel (159-160). Boyd reminds his readers that the good news of the gospel is not that we will never suffer or die an early death. It is that the Lord has given us something so marvellous that even if we suffer or die, our loss is ultimately insignificant in the light of God’s love, Jesus’ grace, and life in the Holy Spirit. While moth and rust may ruin everything in this age, our treasure is in an incorruptible realm (Mt 6:19-20). Since we have this treasure, we need not fear any earthly or spiritual authority who may be able to kill the body (Mt 10:28) (160-161).

Who [writes Paul] will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? . . . No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Rom 8:35, 37-39)

What we can trust God for is that nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus.

Scripture invites us to be consoled by the fact that when we suffer, Jesus suffers with us (Rom 8:17; Phil 3:10; Heb 2:18; 4:15-16; 1 Pet 4:13; cf. Mt 28:20), to trust that God is working to bring good out of every circumstance (Rom 5:3-5; 8:28), to be strong when we are persecuted and when God uses trials to build our character (Heb 12:3-13), and to derive peace from the anticipation of our eternal fellowship with him (Rom 8:18; Phil 4:7). But Boyd does not believe we are taught to find consolation in the belief that there is a divine reason for everything. Indeed this belief may cause us to accept evils that revolt against God and to believe that we have nothing to fear from demonic powers, instead of revolting against them (162). He notes that Jesus never told people to accept their disease or demonization as somehow part of his Father’s plan. Instead, he revealed that God’s plan was to overthrow these things. We are to trust that God is against them, that he has empowered us to work with him in battling such evils and that God will ultimately rid his creation of all forms of evil. This is the warfare worldview, as opposed to the blueprint worldview (162- 163).

Brother Andrew speaks against the apathy that results from viewing God as behind evil. He recounts hearing a conversation between two pious women about two people taken hostage by terrorists. One said, “I feel sorry for those poor men and their families, but really, this is God’s problem not ours. We have to remember that he has already decided how their stories are going to turn out.” Andrew says this form of piety is “a paralyzing disease that has invaded the Body of Christ with dire consequences. It infects its victims with complacency and apathy that immobilize their will to resist evil while eroding their determination to accomplish the great work of Christ” (Brother Andrew and Susan D. Williams 1991:14, 22). Brother Andrew says the responsibility God places on the church to accomplish his will is carried out with passion only when Christians accept that the future is not exhaustively settled (163fn).

The dark side of the potential to love

Even if this is true, we cannot help asking why God allows some free agents to harm others. This is the dark side of love. The capacity to love entails the capacity to harm. This is the risk entailed in love. It is common knowledge that those who love us also have the capacity to hurt us. When we love, we assume moral responsibility not to hurt. This leads to Boyd’s third trinitarian warfare thesis: Risk entails moral responsibility (TWT3) (164-165).

This is so whether the free agents are human or angelic (166-167). On occasion people say, ‘The devil made me do it,’ but this no more relieves them of moral responsibility than if they say, ‘Joe made me do it.’ The agent who influences us may bear some responsibility but this does not divest us of our share (167-169).

‘The corruption of the best is the worst’

If everything thus far in this chapter is true, hasn’t God overplayed his hand? Hitler was given freedom and responsibility in order to love, but he misused it to kill or harm millions. Boyd sees this as the outcome of the principle expounded in mediaeval theology, Corruptio optimi pessima ‘The corruption of the best is the worst’, and makes it his fourth trinitarian warfare thesis: Moral responsibility is proportionate to the potential to influence others (TWT4) (170) ‘Every increase in the capacity for good means a similar increase in the capacity for evil’ (Griffin 1993:229). Or in C.S. Lewis’ (1979:53) words,

The better stuff a creature is made of—the cleverer and stronger and freer it is—then the better it will be if it goes right, but also the worse it will be if it goes wrong. A cow cannot be very good or very bad; a dog can be both better and worse; a child better and worse still; an ordinary man, still more so; a man of genius, still more so; a superhuman spirit best—or worst—of all.(171)

Boyd also applies this to Satan and the other fallen angels (171-173) and returns to the question, has God risked too much? He asks, ‘Would any of the six million Jews who suffered under the Nazi regime agree that the possibility that Hitler could have greatly helped the world was worth the risk that he might choose rather to greatly harm the world?’ (173) One author who has answered ‘no’ is Tooley (1980). Boyd writes, ‘The objection is weighty and must be addressed.’ (174) He points out that Hitler alone was not responsible for the Holocaust: uncountable individuals were co-responsible for the anti-Semitism that went back to the Middle Ages and was fuelled by Luther. Even so, one might say God took too great a risk—but this leads to the question, how much risk is too much? Where would God place the limit on the freedom to love? We bring children into the world with the knowledge of the risks they face, yet we take the risk for the sake of love, so why shouldn’t God? (174-176).

… he knew even from the start that this love affair would possibly require him to become a human and die a hellish physical and spiritual death on the cross (1 Pet 3:19-21; Rev 13:8). Yet, as with us who are made in his image, God deemed love worth this risk. (176)

Finally, divine risk has to be reckoned on the basis of total loss and total gain. One event or set of events may seem to belie the risk, but the totality of history won’t (177).

 

Ch 6: No turning back: The irrevocability and the finitude of freedom

This chapter addresses three questions:

1. Why does God tolerate the ongoing activity of evil agents? If God has the power to destroy the devil now, why does he wait until the end of the world to do it?
2. Why does God appear so arbitrary in his interactions with free agents, sometimes allowing them to go against his will, other times not?
3. If the potential for love entails a risky potential for evil, is heaven going to be eternally risky? (179)

A traditional answer to the first question says that evil is ordained or allowed because God can bring more good out of evil than he could without it, but there is no biblical basis for the idea that all evil is allowed for the sake of good—an idea which anyway contradicts experience (179-180).

The (universalist) answer to question I says that God allows his created beings to continue doing evil in the hope (or knowledge) that they will eventually respond to his limitless love. There is no biblical warrant for this. Humans can apparently also reject God to the bitter end and be cast into “the lake of fire” (Rev 20:15), and Jesus described those who will be rejected on judgment day and will go into “the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels” (Mt 25:41) (180). In any case, if people have free will, experience tells us there is no guarantee that they will choose love.

Boyd’s answer to question 1 is that God cannot destroy beings he has created, because this would be inconsistent with his own decision to allow them free will. The fifth thesis of the warfare theodicy is that the power to influence is irrevocable (TWT5) (181). I find the wording of this thesis odd, but Boyd’s point is that if you give someone something, you cannot take it back without it ceasing to be a gift: ‘the genuineness of the gift of self-determination hinges on its irrevocability‘ (182). A moral choice, good or bad, has enduring effects that cannot be simply cut off. In any case the decision to follow God would then be a matter of survival, not of choice (183).

If this answer to question 1 is correct, how do we explain instances of God interfering with and even revoking someone’s free decisions? How do we account for fulfilled prophecy unless we assume that the Lord at times intervenes to ensure that a particular act occurs? How do we make sense of the biblical certainty that God will finally defeat all who oppose him? And the Bible does contain examples of God terminating the life of free agents who had chosen evil. For example, he struck Ananias and Sapphira dead for lying to the Holy Spirit (Acts 5:1-11), and Herod for his arrogance (Acts 12:20-23). Why does God appear so arbitrary in his interaction with free agents? (184-185)

TWT5 says ‘that to the extent that humans or angels are self-determining, to that extent their moral responsibility must be irrevocable’, but it does not stipulate what that extent is (it is of course not eternal). It does not mean that God can never exercise coercive power in his interactions with free creatures. ‘TWT5 simply says that self-determination and irrevocability are two sides of the same coin.’ Thus it does not contradict the biblical portrayal of God occasionally intervening unilaterally in the world or the clear biblical teaching that God will ultimately defeat his enemies. The only thing that could hold God back would be if he had given his creatures freedom that was unconditional and unlimited in scope and duration (185), but it is a logical quality of created beings that their freedom is limited: it is entailed by what they are and that they are not something else (186).

This brings us to Boyd’s last thesis of the trinitarian warfare theodicy: that the power to influence is finite (TWT6) (186). Even if it were logically possible for God to give his creatures unlimited freedom, it would be unwise of him to do so (187). We all know that the scope of our freedom is restricted by factors like our genetic make-up, the environment we were raised in, the free will of other agents, and so ion. The range of options open to us tends to decrease with time, because choices become habits that form character (C.S. Lewis 1979:75, 86) (188). ‘The goal of self-determining freedom,’ says Boyd, ‘is to become a person who eternally receives and reflects God’s love.’ (189) A few lines later,

It is only because Jesus died for all and the Holy Spirit continually works in our hearts that we are able (but never forced) to say yes to God’s love. When we do so we are freed from Satan’s power, reconciled to the Father, given a new identity in Christ and empowered to live in right relationship with the Father and the Son. If we persevere in the faith, we are destined to become conformed to the image of Jesus Christ (Rom 8:29). . . God’s grace, working through our choices, produces a bride who irrevocably loves Christ and reflects his character. (190)

Boyd admits that his theses do not obviously explain God’s apparent arbitrariness in dealing with people, but points out that, having given freedom to his creatures, his actions and our freedom are constrained by numerous factors that are often invisible to us. (192) One factor is his influence over us. If we are in relationship with him, he is able to influence us, but his influence is never coercive (192-194). Another factor that restricts our freedom and God’s dealings with us is our inborn potentiality—our natural intelligence, basic personality and physical abilities —and the way we have used it. This varies greatly from person to person, in ways that are often unseen, even to ourselves (194-197). A major aspect of this is the decisions we have made that determine our life’s direction, and whether these decisions were in based on what God has said to us or were made in opposition to him. If we knew about all these factors, God’s actions would no longer seem arbitrary (198-200). Additionally, each person’s freedom is limited by the actions of other agents, human and angelic, and these in turn are dependent on all the factors just listed and thus on each agent’s relationship with God. We have to trust God’s character, ‘content knowing that the all-good God does all he can to further good and hinder evil.’ (200-203)

Most importantly, our freedom to act is conditioned by the power of prayer, whether our own prayer or the prayer of others. ‘God has significantly bound himself to the power of prayer, so much so that there are things he would like to do that will not be done unless people of faith pray.’ (203-204)

 

Ch 7: Praying in the whirlwind: Miracles, prayer and the arbitrariness of life

The chapter begins,

In contrast to any view of God as inherently limited . . . biblical theism teaches that God is the originator of all power and that he accomplishes seemingly impossible feats in the world (Mt 19:26; Mk 14:36; Lk 1:37). (209)

God always does the most God can do

So Boyd asks, ‘Why cannot God, the omnipotent Creator, do whatever he wants, wherever he wants, however he wants?’ (212) His answer follows from the previous chapter:

By giving every free agent an irrevocable domain of genuine say-so in the flow of history, God has to that extent limited his own unilateral say-so in the flow of history. God is everywhere and at all times present in his creation maximizing good and minimizing evil. But to the extent that he has given creatures say-so, God has restricted the exercise of his own omnipotence. (213)

God is still the most influential agent in human history, but he is not the only agent. He works within the complex network of human decisions that affect the decision-maker and influence others in potentially endless chains of causation that are immensely complex and humanly unfathomable (213-216). If God were arbitrarily to prevent horrible events that result from the alliance of hardened human hearts with the array of evil forces that resist his Spirit, the integrity of his decision to grant his creatures free will would be utterly compromised (214-215).

The complexity of the network of events affecting human beings is well modelled by chaos theory. To use an oft-cited example, the flap of a butterfly wing in China may be the crucial variable that produced a storm in New York the next month. It is not simply the complex chain of events that connects the butterfly to the storm that should concern us, but also the events that led to the movement of its wing and the many event chains that result from the storm. The world is complex beyond our comprehension (217-222).

When God finally speaks to Job out of the whirlwind (Job 38:1–41:34) it is not just to remind him who has ultimate control of the cosmos, but also how little a human being can really know. With some sarcasm the Lord asks Job

Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth? . . . Who determined its measurements—surely you know! . . . Have you comprehended the expanse of the earth? Declare, if you know all this. . . . What is the way to the place where the light is distributed, or where the east wind is scattered upon the earth? (Job 38:4-5, 18, 24) (221)

More than this, the Lord also emphasises that he maintains the order of the universe against the cosmic monsters of near eastern literature who seek to cause evil chaos. Boyd remarks that we have no idea what this means (222-224). He concludes

Peace comes to Job only when he learns that, though his suffering is a mystery, he can and must nevertheless humbly trust God. His suffering is not God’s fault, and God is not against him. God’s character is trustworthy. (226)

The power and urgency of prayer

What is the point of petitionary prayer? If we pray for the best thing that God can do in a given set of circumstances, then isn’t that redundant, as God will do it anyway? And if what we pray for isn’t God’s best, then he won’t do it (226-227). This is a problem in light of the fact that

From Cain’s plea for leniency (Gen 4:13-14) to the Israelites’ cry for liberation (Ex 2:23-24; 3:7-10; Acts 7:34); from Moses’ cry for help at the Red Sea and against the Amalekites (Ex 14:15-16; 17:8-14) to Hezekiah’s prayer for an extension of life (2 Kings 20:1-7); and from Abraham’s prayer for a son (Gen 15:2-3) to the leper’s prayer to Jesus for healing (Mt 8:2-3), the biblical narrative is strung together by examples of God’s faithfulness in responding to the prayers of his people. Indeed, one of the most fundamental assumptions that runs throughout Scripture is that “the prayer of the righteous is powerful and effective” (Jas 5:16). Prayer moves God and makes an incredible difference in the world. (227)

Jesus instructs us to ask God for things, promising that they will be given to us (Mt 7:7, 11; 18:19-20; Jn 14:13-16; 15:7, 16; 16:23). He tells us to pray with persistence, as though God did not want to hear and answer our prayer (Lk 11:5-13; 18:1-8). This only makes sense if prayer gets things done—if God is listening. The trinitarian warfare position must be able to account for this (227).

Boyd argues that this is an even greater problem for blueprint theology, as this sees God’s plans as immutable and therefore unable to be changed by prayer (227-228). It is also a problem for Process Theology, which sees God as exhaustively constrained by the free will of his creatures (229). Neither position does justice to scripture.

Boyd’s own view takes a different direction:

I submit that the effectiveness and urgency of petitionary prayer as it is commanded and illustrated throughout Scripture only makes sense if we are asking God to do something he would not otherwise do and if God at least sometimes does this. (228)

Boyd argued in the first part of the chapter that God is bound to evaluate a whole mesh of events in determining how to act without compromising his creatures’ free will. Part of this mesh is the prayers of his people. This understanding makes sense of the occasions Boyd mentioned in Ch 3 when God changed his mind. It also makes sense of the passage in Ezekiel 22:29-31 when God tells us of a time when he “sought for” someone to “stand in the breach” for Israel but could not find anyone and as a consequence Israel was judged (230).

By giving human beings free will, God gives them moral responsibility in both the physical and the spiritual domain. Prayer is the exercise of that responsibility in the spiritual. domain (231). Boyd writes

Hence, we may understand that, by his own choice, God genuinely needs us to pray for certain things if they are to be accomplished, just as we may understand that God needs us to cooperate with him on a physical level for certain things to be accomplished. (232).

God chose to create a risky world in which certain things depend on free agents, whether through their physical actions or through their prayerful actions (232). This is unsurprising: we would not expect God to give us responsibility in the physical realm but not the spiritual. Even less surprising is the fact that, since communication belongs in any successful interpersonal relationship, God wants us to talk to him (232-233).

Further, scripture tells us that we are God’s intermediaries, reigning on his behalf on earth. An intermediary must be able to communicate with both the persons between whom s/he mediates. Importantly prayer allows us to align our wills with the Father’s will (233-234).

To pray that the Father’s will be done on earth as in heaven (Mt 6:10) is to pray against all wills set against his will. The opposing wills are significant. In Daniel 10 the angel of Persia frustrates God’s will for three weeks. Prayer may sometimes remain unanswered because of the resistance of the Principalities and Powers (235-236). The one thing that is guaranteed is God’s love:

[No] hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword . . . neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers [are] able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus. (Rom 8:35, 38-39)

–and it is clear from the first of these verses that Paul knows that these things do befall believers (239-240). The war zone we live in is daunting, but face it we must—with mature faith (240).

 

Ch 8: “Red in tooth and claw”: Perspectives on the origin of natural evil, Part 1

Man . . . trusted God was love indeed

And love Creation’s final law

Tho’ Nature, red in tooth and claw

With ravine, shrek’d against his creed.

(Tennyson, In memoriam)

Whereas evil committed by God’s creatures (‘moral evil’) can be explained by the risk he took in giving them free will, this explanation does not appear to account for the terrible things that happen to human beings through nature—mudslides, eruptions, tsunamis etc (‘natural evil’). (243-246). Tennyson writes that nature is “red in tooth and claw.” Animals maim and kill each other (246). Boyd argues, however, that this is not the way God made his creation. What we perceive as natural evil are the outcomes of diabolical forces acting on it, a fact known to the early church and indeed to all premodern cultures (247).

In this chapter Boyd rejects four views of natural evil that presuppose that God has a purpose in it (247-248):

• that nature suffers because of human sin (the traditional view);
• that natural evil fulfils divine purposes (Augustine);
• that natural evil is the inevitable by-product of God’s aim of developing souls with moral character (Hick 1966);
• that natural evil is nature’s way of participating in the self-sacrificial life of God (Murphy & Ellis 1996).

Boyd thinks that the traditional view has something going for it, with its basis in God cursing the land after the Fall. In this view human beings have lost much of the authority they possessed before the Fall. In any case much of the suffering that befalls people as a seeming result of natural evil is directly or indirectly our fault. People allow others’ starvation because of their own selfishness. Mudslides happen because we haven’t looked after the land (250-252). But there are problems with the traditional view. Experience speaks against it, as there is no correlation between a person’s suffering and their degree of sinfulness. Jesus explicitly denies that certain ‘natural’ evils are the result of divine punishment (Lk 13:4-5; Jn 9:1-4). Suffering and violence permeated the world long before human beings existed. Some theologians simply deny this by saying that animals don’t experience suffering, but this is not entirely true. It seems intuitively right — and biblically mandated (Gen 1:26-28; Prov 27:23) —that it is evil for humans to be cruel toward animals, so we can hardly say that cruelty in nature is not evil (252-255).

Of Augustine’s view Boyd writes (249-250)

Suggesting that “natural” evils like typhoid and cholera fit into a divine plan compromises both the goodness of God and the supposed evil of “natural” evil. It is not even clear what the word good means if it is used to describe the “design” that orchestrates such things as killer diseases, mudslides that bury children alive or typhoons that drown thousands. If such things are in any sense good, what does evil look like? If such things are the work of a loving and all-good God, what would the work of a hateful devil look like?

Augustine’s perspective contradicts the pervasive biblical assertion that God is opposed to all forms of evil.

Hick’s (1966) view of nature goes back to Irenaeus. A natural environment that does not immediately bend to our wishes is necessary both to building moral responsibility and to giving us the freedom to decide whether we will relate to God or not, says Hick (256-259). Boyd thinks that this view has something going for it, but objects to the character-building aspect on the grounds that the nightmares that nature can bring do not build character, even if God is sometimes able to use them in this way. Nothing in Hick’s view explains the apparent failure of God to intervene when tragedy strikes (259-262).

The fourth view of natural evil that Boyd discusses is presented by Murphy & Ellis (1996), and says that natural evil is nature’s way of participating in the self-sacrificial life of God, i.e. all killed animals are reminiscent of Jesus’ sacrifice. Boyd shows that it is unbiblical, and I pass over it here (262-268).

 

Ch 9: When nature becomes a weapon: Perspectives on the origin of natural evil, Part 2

In this chapter Boyd argues against three views of natural evil that assume ‘an inherent limitation of God or in creation’ (270).

The first, Process Theology, is a form of theism that argues that nature is not perfect ‘because the God who creates and sustains it is limited in his power’. It has its beginning in Whitehead (1978 [1929]) and a recent popularisation in Kuschner’s (1981) bestseller. Boyd discusses Process Theology at some length (270-278), and I skip this. He rejects it on the grounds that it views God as part of the world rather than as its creator.¹¹

The second view, argued by Peterson (1982), says that nature must be morally neutral in order to offer scope for free will. What is good for humanity in some circumstances is bad in others (278-279). A variation on this view is presented by Polkinghorne (1988, 1996) and Russell (1988), who bring physics to bear on the question of natural evil and attribute it to the underlying pervasive randomness of creation which, he suggests, is necessary for it to be autonomous from God and able to generate life forms that otherwise could not have been generated (also Peacocke 1995) (281-283). Boyd objects to both versions of this view because they do not explain what is sometimes the extreme cruelty of nature, e.g the killing of little children by a tornado. He asks, ‘Why could God not have intervened to shift the tornado several yards one way or another to prevent the disaster?’ (279-281, 283-284).

The last view Boyd investigates is Karl Barth’s das Nichtige, translated ‘nothingness’ by Boyd, but perhaps better labelled ‘not-ness’. Barth claims that when God created the universe he chose what to create and what not to create, and what he chose not to create is ‘not-ness’. For Barth this not-ness exists in some non-created way. It stands in opposition to creation and to God, and God must resist it in order to preserve creation. Sometimes the chaos of not-ness encroaches on creation and becomes evil. Barth considers beings like Leviathan and Satan to be mythological representations of not-ness. However, Boyd finds Barth’s account incoherent: Barth doesn’t (and perhaps can’t) explain how not-ness can ‘exist’, nor can he explain what empowers it to enter the created order as evil (284-290).

Boyd finds that each of the views he has discussed in this chapter has some value, but none completely stands up to scrutiny. Resolving this is the task of the next chapter (290-292).

 

Ch 10: This an enemy has done: “Natural” evil and the Trinitarian Warfare Theodicy

In Boyd’s view all the accounts of ‘natural’ evil he has discussed in chs 8 and 9 fail for a single reason: they neglect the possibility that evil spiritual beings are the agents of ‘natural’ evil (293-294).

Satan and nature in the early church and in recent thought

The early church, however, represented by Origen, Tertullian and Athenagoras, did understand it this way. Origen argued that famines, scorching winds and pestilence were not normal in God’s creation but the result of fallen angels bringing misery wherever they could (294-295). Nontheless, since Augustine declared that all evil is somehow part of God’s meticulous plan, theologians who attribute so-called natural evil to Satan and his minions have remained in a minority. Their number has dwindled further since the Enlightenment, but Boyd finds and quotes several twentieth-century writers who argue forcibly that the only reasonable explanation of ‘natural’ evil is that it is caused by evil beings (295-298). A number of them, including C.S. Lewis in The problem of pain (1962:135), argue that they are also the cause of violence and suffering in the animal kingdom, which reflects an evil that has permeated the very structure of God’s creation (298-302).

Boyd sees this interpretation as true to biblical worldviews (301).

Leviathan and Rahab encompass the earth and war against God (e.g., Job 9:13; 26:12-13; 41:1-34; Ps 74:14; 89:9-10; Is 27:1). “Raging waters” of chaos defying the Almighty and threatening his creation must be kept at bay (e.g., 22 Job 7:12; 38:6-11; Ps 74:10-17; 104:7-9; Prov 8:27-29). The entire creation has been subject to bondage and decay, and it groans accordingly (Rom 8:20-22). A sinister spirit of great power is “the god of this world” and “the ruler of the power of the air” (2 Cor 4:4; Eph 2:2). An evil “prince” owns all the kingdoms of this world and indeed controls the entire fallen world (Lk 4:6; 1 Jn 5:19; Rev 12:9).

Objections to the Warfare Theodicy

Boyd responds to three objections to the idea that evil beings cause natural evil. The first objection is that it is too vague. What are the mechanisms by which Satan & Co cause earthquakes, for example, or turned certain animals into carnivores? Boyd responds that we no more need to know these things than we need to know how God affects nature. To know them would entail first knowing what an unfallen world was like, and this we can barely imagine (302-305).

A second objection says that we already know the causes of earthquakes and the like and there is nothing mysterious about the fact that some animals prey on others. The warfare theodicy thus falls foul of Ockham’s Razor, which says that the simplest explanation is likely to be the right one. Boyd counters that the scientific answers only describe and predict: they don’t explain why things are as they are. From this perspective, the warfare hypothesis is simpler than the blueprint worldview, as the latter requires us to explain how evil is caused by an all-good God. On another level, however, the warfare hypothesis is complex: to identify specific causes would entail knowing the free decisions of every created being throughout history. Boyd argues that this is no different from our inability to explain why a tornado arises and travels precisely where it does: the specific causes are too complex for us to discern (cf Job 39-41) (305-309).

A third objection to Boyd’s theodicy is that it contradicts the early chapters of Genesis, where God is in total control of creation and declares it ‘good’, and it is he who curses the ground, not Satan. If the common scholarly interpretation of Genesis 1 as a poetic myth is accepted, it is no challenge to the warfare theodicy (309-312). Boyd also attempts to find compatibility between his theodicy and a creationist reading of Genesis, but this is unconvincing because of timing: if Satan was a created being, his fall must have occurred after creation but before Adam and Eve’s (312-313). Finally Boyd describes the ‘restoration’ view (313):

In this view, Genesis 1:1 describes the original creation, while Genesis 1:2 describes this creation after it had been corrupted by demonic influences, torn apart by a spiritual war and come under God’s judgment. Genesis 1:3-31 then describes (in literal or nonliteral terms) God’s work of restoring the earth by refashioning it out of the materials of the previous creation.

He equates the restoration in Genesis 1:3 with the spread of mammals after the destruction of the dinosaurs.¹² Humanity was then charged with the task of preserving God’s earthly kingdom, a task in which we failed. Boyd says he is tentatively inclined towards this view (313-317).

Conclusion

In one of Jesus’ parables, a farmer discovered that weeds were growing in his field alongside of the crop he had planted. Since he did not plant the weeds, he concluded, “An enemy has done this” (Mt 13:28).

Boyd concludes that we should share the farmer’s discernment with regared to ‘natural’ evil and see that it, along with all other forms of evil, is the work of Satan and his minions (317-318).

 

Ch 11: A clash of doctrines: Eternal suffering and annihilationism

The problem of hell

Boyd sees one remaining and important difficulty for the trinitarian warfare theodicy, namely the biblical and traditional view of hell (318). Revelation 21:4 looks forward to a time when

Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away.

At present we are still in the midst of ‘the first things’. Boyd writes (320)

Since love requires choice, God intends this stage of existence to function as a prelude to his eternal kingdom. It is the gestation period of our eternal life, the courtship of the heavenly groom and his earthly bride to be, the temporal time of choice that eventually forms our eternal being. But God never intended it to be the battlefield it has become. Though God of course anticipated this possibility, the age-long battle between God and Satan with all the suffering it has caused is not something the beneficent Creator would ever will. . .

This is the ultimate hope the Bible offers. The hope is not that God’s will is now being done but that God’s will shall someday be done “on earth as it is in heaven.”

This marvellous eschatological vision is marred by one thing. In Boyd’s words,

Rebels will anguish in a lake of fire that will never be extinguished (Lk 16:22-24; Rev 14:10; 20:14-15) and in which they “will be tormented day and night, forever and ever” (Rev 20:10).’

The problem of hell posed by the traditional position is that there will be everlasting suffering for a large portion of humanity. Since this occurs after God has set everything to rights, we cannot attribute it to Satan. Whatever happens, happens because God wills it, yet it seems utterly contrary to the God’s love and goodness (320-322).

The Case for eternal, conscious suffering

In rare Old Testament references to the subject Daniel (12:2) and Isaiah (66:24) talk of a resurrection of both the redeemed and the condemned, and so does Jesus (Jn 5:28-29)(322-323).

One of the most persuasive New Testament passages supporting the traditional view of hell is Matthew 25:31-46. On judgment day Jesus acts as ‘King’, granting eternal life to those who knew him (Mt 25:34), consciously or otherwise (Mt 25:37-39), but consigning those who didn’t, although they may have thought they did (cf Mt 7:22-23) to eternal punishment (Mt 25:46). The fact that Jesus contrasts the punishment of the wicked with the eternal life of the righteous implies that the punishment is also eternal (Mt 25:41, 46). Jesus’ reference to the fire of this punishment as an “eternal fire” seems to confirm this (Mt 25:41). The parable of the rich man who would not care for Lazarus (Lk 16:23-24) points in the same direction, and so does Paul (2 Thess 1:8-9)(323-324). Revelation paints a similar picture. An angel proclaims that anyone who worships the beast and its image (325)

will be tormented with fire and sulfur in the presence of the holy angels and in the presence of the Lamb.

He adds:

the smoke of their torment goes up forever and ever. There is no rest day or night for those who worship the beast and its image and for anyone who receives the mark of its name. (Rev 14:9-11)

See also Revelation 20:10, 15.

One way out of the doctrinal problem this raises is to say that it is people who choose between good and evil, and reap the consequences. God does not will anyone’s damnation (Ezek 18:23; 33:11; 1 Tim 2:4; 2 Pet 3:9). Boyd does not find this entirely convincing. Could the choice not be between eternal life and eternal death? (327)

The Case for Annihilationism

Eternal death is annihilation. The annihilationist position is that it is the consequences of hell that are eternal, not the suffering, i.e. the fire finally burns up the person who has chosen evil. Biblical descriptions of everlasting torment are taken to be apocalyptic metaphors (328-329).

Annihilationists point to the frequent Old Testament references to annihilation.¹³ They also take New Testament references to a ‘consuming fire’ to signify annihilation: John the Baptist in Matthew 3:10, 12, Jesus himself in Matthew 7:19; 13:40 and John 15:6, the writer to the Hebrews in 6:8 and 10:27, as well as 2 Peter 2:6 and Jude 7 (329-333). Jesus contrasts the wide gate that ‘leads to destruction’ with the narrow gate that ‘leads to life’ (Mt 7:13-14). He also tells his disciples not to fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul, but to ‘fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell’ (Mt 10:28). References in the epistles are James 4:12, 2 Peter 2:3, 2:7, 1 Timothy 6:9, Philippians 3:18-19, 1 Corinthians 3:17, 1 Thessalonians 5 :3 (333-334). Annihilationists point out that ‘immortality’ and ‘incorruption’ are promised only to the righteous (1 Cor 15:42-44, 50, 54). Believers are given the gift of eternal life (e.g., Jn 3:15-16; 10:28; 17:2; Rom 2:7; 6:23; Gal 6:8; 1 Jn 5:11): they do not have it innately. Conversely, say annihilationists, those who are not given eternal life have only a finite life that comes to an end. Paul also teaches that “the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life” (Rom 6:23; cf. 1:32; 6:21). James writes that “sin, when it is fully grown, gives birth to death” (Jas 1:15) and that the person who “brings back a sinner from wandering will save the sinner’s soul from death” (Jas 5:20)(334-335).

Finally, annihilationists argue, the idea of God ruling over a new heavens along with a torturing hell is inconsistent with his love. How can Paul declare that Christ will be over all (Eph 1:10, 2122) and that God will be ‘all in all’ (1 Cor 15:28) when there will be a dimension of reality perpetually opposed to God? How can all creatures bow before the throne (Phil 2:10-11; cf. Rom 14:10-11) and all things be reconciled to God (Col 1:20; cf. Acts 3:21) if creatures continue to exist in rebellion to God? How can we affirm the ultimate victory of God’s joy and peace and accept that there will be no more tears, sorrow or death (Rev 21:4) if there will be eternal torment? (335-336).

Boyd is left with a conundrum. He sees strengths in both arguments, but rejects the thought that scripture might contradict itself. The church has struggled with apparent contradictions in the past and has arrived at the doctrine of the trinity, expressing the mystery (my term, not Boyd’s) that God is three in one; similarly the doctrine of the incarnation asserts that Jesus was both fully man and fully God. Boyd believes we need such a doctrine to handle the concept of hell. Hence the next chapter (335-337).

 

Ch 12: A separate reality: Hell, das Nichtige and the victory of God

We cannot accept contradictions, because they are meaningless, but we can accept paradoxes like the Trinity and the incarnation, and, although less important, we need a doctrine to account for hell (338-339).

Barth on das Nichtige

To this end Boyd returns to Barth’s concept of das Nichtige (ch 9). Those who have rejected God, and therefore reality, cease to exist to everyone except themselves, he claims. For Barth, not-ness exists in some non-created way, in opposition to creation and to God, but this is incoherent, as Barth doesn’t explain how not-ness can ‘exist’, nor can he explain what empowers it to enter the created order as evil. However, Boyd writes, if free-will agents can choose that which God negates, ‘Barth’s concept of das Nichtige becomes compelling and, I will now argue, quite useful, for now we can construe das Nichtige as having the potential to become actualized. . . What was negated by God is affirmed by a creature, and thus the possibility of something opposing God—the possibility of evil—becomes actualized.’ (340) Creatures with free will can choose to oppose God, and by so doing they choose what God has negated. Evil is thus not ‘a substance that eternally coexists in competition with God’, but is result of the possibility of choosing against God (340-341).¹⁴ We in effect attempt ‘to dethrone God as Lord of all reality and to enthrone ourselves as lords of an alternative reality of our own willing. This is the essence of sin.’ All of us have in numerous ways said ‘no’ to God’s lordship in our lives, but God out of his boundless love ‘continued his yes toward creation with a yes of salvation’ through Jesus’ death for us, freeing us from the devil and forgiving our sin. Salvation is intended for every person, but we ‘can insist on living as though it were not true that we are loved, forgiven and freed in Christ.’ (341)

In the eschaton what God wills will reign supreme and there will no longer be the option to choose what God negates, as everything will be determined by his love. What will then happen to those who have chosen to define their reality in opposition to his will? Their reality will come to nothing. Boyd’s proposal is not annihilationism, however, as he distinguishes between the rebels’ chosen reality, which becomes not-ness, and the individuals who make this choice, whom God created as eternal beings that it would be a contradiction for him to destroy (341-343).

Is Boyd’s view compatible with scripture? He believes it is. He cites James 1:13-16, according to whom sin leads to death, and John 3: 17-19:

God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him. Those who believe in him are not condemned; but those who do not believe are condemned already, because they have not believed in the name of the only Son of God. And this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil. (Boyd’s emphasis)

Boyd writes, ‘Revelation portrays the wicked as being outside the city walls continuing to do the same wicked things that prevented them from dwelling in God’s city in the first place (Rev 22:15). Indeed, the door to the city is open, but they choose to remain outside (Rev 21:25-27).’ (344) Hell, then, is simply God giving his creatures what they want (cf Lewis 1962:129). But as they have chosen to rebel against the divine reality, they ‘can no longer participate in reality, for reality is defined by the divine yes that this will opposes. . . They endure, to be sure, but only as infinitely small points that do not interact with those who are real.’ (346)

The loss of a shared medium

‘Unless a middle ground exists between free agents, an objective reality that they can affect but not exhaustively define, these agents cannot relate to one another. One is real to another only because both share a third reality.’ But in the eschaton, all reality is defined by God’s love, and creatures who reject it will be left with no medium of reality. They will be invisible to those who have chosen God’s love. In the words of C.S. Lewis (1946:78), hell is ‘that horrible thing which cannot be, yet somehow is.’ (347)

Boyd tells the story of a woman who had been seriously wronged when she was young, and whose pride and unforgiveness had perpetually isolated her from other people. The story ‘illustrates the intensely self-enclosed nature of hell.’ (348-349)

The model of hell as chosen not-ness might integrate the two biblical pictures that separate traditionalists and annihilationists. The inhabitants of hell suffer eternally, but for those who share reality in the eschaton, the damned are no more (Obadiah 16). ‘They are like smoke that has vanished in the air, chaff that has been incinerated, a dream when one awakes’ (Ps 73:20).

C.S. Lewis (1946:122-123) has a redeemed spirit tell a rebellious one that hell is smaller than one atom of the real world (350). In eternity those who have chosen God’s love become fully human, but those who have chosen against love are just the remainder of a person (353-354).

Letting rebels have their way

Boyd writes

I have suggested that God allows spirits to choose the unreality of their rebellion over his kingdom of love out of metaphysical necessity and (what amounts to essentially the same thing) out of his love. We may conclude this chapter, and this book, by noting that this very necessity and love may also be understood as God’s judgment. God’s love and wrath unite in allowing creatures to go their own way throughout eternity.

Boyd finds scriptural warrant for this position in Romans 1:18-32, where the thinking of the idolaters becomes ‘futile’ and ‘senseless’, they ‘exchanged the truth about God for a lie’ and God finally ‘gives them up’ to their own desires (354-355). In Boyd’s view

all they have is their want. Their self-enclosed will is the sum of their reality, for outside this rebel willing, their “reality” does not exist. God forever grants them their illusion. (355)

Conclusion: The eternal trivialization of Satan and evil

Paradoxically hell is the eternal suffering of agents who have in effect been annihilated. ‘If darkness is what one loves, darkness is what one gets (Jn 3:19).’ In this hell ‘Satan will indeed be the lord of nothing, existing nowhere, as Milton said. The triune God will be “all in all”.’ God’s ultimate victory over Satan is the latter’s ‘absolute, unending and pathetic trivialization‘ (emphasis original) (356).

Boyd concludes (357):

To the inhabitants of the kingdom of God, however, there is only divine love. All suffering endured in the probationary period will be behind us. Satan and all humans and angels who followed him will be in the past. Even our memories of them will have been transformed (Ps 9:6; 34:16, 21). There will be no more sin, no more sorrow, no more tears, death or abducted children (Rev 21:4-5). We will forever live in the love and joy of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

Perhaps most importantly for our purposes, the moment the kingdom is ushered in, all of us who have eagerly anticipated it will know in an instant that it was worth it. God’s risky creation was a wise, though costly, endeavor. There will be no regrets. Indeed, Scripture has the audacity to proclaim that the glory awaiting us will render all suffering in this present age insignificant (Rom 8:18). In light of the nightmarish suffering that occurs in this present war zone, the eschatological kingdom of God must be one unimaginably beautiful place.

Postscript

Boyd described the ideas in this chapter as speculations (356). He still thinks them plausible, but now finds it improbable that a loving God would permit an eternal existence that is worse than non-existence.¹⁵

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