But What About the Thingamajig?

Suppose I want you to do some hard labor for me. You ask, “What is the pay?” And I answer, “True payment consists of friends, happiness, and a long life. If you come work for me, I will become your friend. You will be happy for helping me. And the work involves a lot of heavy lifting, so it will be good exercise and contribute to a long life.” Are you convinced? Or do you think I am avoiding your question? My answer may have some value in another context, but it is not relevant to your concern. Rather, I am imposing another meaning on a key term, and I am addressing that instead. You would think that I am either stupid or shifty.

When you ask about the pay, you are referring to money, to the amount of US dollars that will transfer from my account to yours. Your concern has nothing to do with true riches or the deeper meaning of life. The meaning of the term is fixed in your question, and even if the dictionary lists several other definitions, only one matters in this context, and that is the one that you are using. Now my answer looks ridiculous: “True US dollars consist of friends, happiness and a long life.” It is obviously irrelevant. The true answer is, “No, I will not pay you.”

When the same word is used with two different meanings, one or both of the words can be replaced, either with different words, or with expressions that represent the meanings these words are intended to convey. We can reproduce the dialogue this way: “What is the amount of US dollars that you will give me?” “I will give you $0. However, you will receive a different kind of reward that consists of friends, happiness, and a long life.” In other words, when X is used in two ways, it is always possible to state the matter in terms of Y and Z instead. This is much clearer, but putting the matter this way compels me to admit the fact that I will give you $0, although I can try to convince you to work for me anyway by offering another kind of motivation. It makes my position more honest.

Now consider something that we read from Louis Berkhof’s Systematic Theology. He writes, “It is said that the doctrine of perseverance is inconsistent with human freedom. But this objection proceeds on the false assumption that real freedom consists in the liberty of indifference, or the power of contrary choice in moral and spiritual matters. This is erroneous, however. True liberty consists exactly in self-determination in the direction of holiness. Man is never more free than when he moves consciously in the direction of God. And the Christian stands in that liberty through the grace of God.”

Can you see that he appears to say something valuable, but avoids the objection? This is a typical Reformed way of thinking. I have chosen this example because it happens to be on my desk, but there are thousands like this in Reformed writings, and it would be easy to find your own example and make your own analysis. In any case, Berkhof’s answer is, “What you call X, I do not mean Y, but I mean Z.” Fine, but what about Y? The objection is that X is inconsistent with Y, and Berkhof ignores this. And if the opponent claims that Y is essential, without which a system of theology cannot stand, then Berkhof’s defense is a complete failure. The opponent says, “If God is sovereign, then man has no thingamajig.” The Reformed answer is, “True freedom is self-determination.” But the objection refers to thingamajig. Just as I tried to trick you into working for me without pay, the Reformed answer is a scam.

This prepares us to examine the actual content of the objection. Freedom is a relative term – a person is free from something. The meaning that is intended by the word in a given context, then, is determined by what one is said to be free from. When the topic is divine sovereignty, election, regeneration, preservation, or the like – that is, when the topic is the control of God – the relevant contrast, or the thing that it seems inconsistent with, is necessarily a freedom from God. So the question is, “Do I have a freedom to think, to choose, and to act, in a sense that my decision is always arbitrary or that the reason for my decision is always entirely within myself apart from external determination, including the decree and the power of God?” It is unproductive, and understandably frustrating to the opponents, to say, “But that is not what the Bible means by freedom.” You can call it whatever you want, but this is what our opponents are asking. Take back the word freedom, but you still need to answer the question.

This is important because freedom, in this rather strong sense, is what our opponents refer to when they use the term, and they consider this the necessary foundation for moral responsibility. To redefine freedom for them does not answer the question. The typical answer is compatibilism, or that man has the power of self-determination. He always decides according to his own desire without coercion. The Reformed deny their opponents’ idea of freedom, saying that it is misdefined and impossible, and offer them this version instead as the basis for moral responsibility.

However, even a computer has this kind of freedom – it always functions according to its program, and it is never coerced. But man is the one who writes the program, and who designs the hardware so that the computer would function according to a program. Our opponents are asking if the computer can function without any programming, or if it can create its own programming, or to operate beyond or even against its programming. To them, the Reformed answer is tantamount to saying that if a computer runs a virus, then we can charge it with a cyber crime. Their thinking is that if a man writes the virus, and the computer merely runs it, then it is the man who should be charged with the crime. The computer can be held accountable only if it writes the virus by itself or if it performs the same mischief without a virus. If we are talking about divine sovereignty, then freedom must be defined this way – a freedom relative to divine control. And if this freedom is the necessary foundation to moral responsibility, then our opponents are correct. Either God cannot be sovereign, or man cannot be responsible. The Reformed answer is a total failure and embarrassment.

If you complain that a man is not like a computer in many ways, I agree. But be careful with this, since it might not go in a direction that you expect. A man might program the computer, but he does not control many things about it. He did not create the very materials that made the computer, and he does not control the electricity and many other things required for its operation. If a man is greater than a computer, then God is infinitely greater than a programmer. So this complaint only stresses God’s control over man. The analogy indeed breaks down, but not in favor of the Reformed or their opponents.

The same thing applies when it is asked if Adam had freedom before his fall into sin. It misses the point to reply with the doctrine of compatibilism or the “four states of man” scheme. Whether Adam was free from sin to abstain from sin is secondary. The opponents are asking whether Adam was free from God to abstain from sin. If he was free from God, then how is God sovereign? If Adam was not free from God, then why was he responsible? If God created Adam upright, and Adam acted according to his own nature, then how was the fall possible? As far as this goes, the opponents are completely right, and the Reformed are completely wrong.

The correct answer is simple: 1. Affirm divine sovereignty, and that it is exhaustive, extending to all things, even the thoughts, motives, desires, and actions of men; 2. Deny human freedom, and admit that it is indeed inconsistent with and excluded by divine sovereignty; 3. Deny that human freedom is the necessary foundation for moral responsibility; 4. Affirm that divine sovereignty is the true foundation for moral responsibility; that is, men are responsible because God holds them responsible, and he requires no warrant for this other than his nature and his will; and 5. Affirm that the very definition of justice is given by God’s nature, decree, and action, so that whatever he decides and causes is by definition in accord with justice; that is, he is always in accord with himself.

This directly faces the idea of freedom as defined by the opponents of divine sovereignty, and instead of switching this freedom with something else, flatly denies it. And then it confronts their deeper concern, which is moral responsibility, and points out that their assumption – that responsibility presupposes freedom, freedom before God in any sense and by any definition – is arbitrary and unwarranted, and contrary to both Scripture and reason.

Do we really need thousands of pages written over hundreds of years to settle this? My computer’s relation to its programming is morally irrelevant. It is my property. I can use my laptop like a Frisbee if I want. As the owner, it is within my rights to do whatever I want with it. Thus God is the potter who out of the same lump makes some vessels for honorable use and some vessels for dishonorable use. And no one can say to him, “Why have you made me like this?” That is the summation of theology, and the end of the matter.