Remembering God's Anger

“Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God,” the most famous sermon from the Great Awakening, had a profound impact in Jonathan Edwards’ day. It is said that people interrupted the preaching of this sermon, crying out “What shall I do to be saved?” That sermon, preached in 1741, is still studied and read widely to this day.

Much has changed in the intervening years. The idea of an angry God causes more offense than it once did in American culture. The Christian message has always been objectionable. The reasons change. The points of harmony and disagreement change. But the ultimate incompatibility remains. Christianity offends every human culture. 

Our culture has developed an aversion to anger in general (since it’s not nice), and God is not exempt from the taboo. Narcissism has also been on the rise. How can a narcissistic society accept that it deserves God’s wrath?

While Christians should seek to remove any unnecessary offense by making the Gospel message clear and undiluted by needless culture baggage, our attempts to communicate clearly without compromise often fall short. One way many have missed the mark in this effort is by downplaying or denying the wrath of God.

Is God Still Angry?

There is widespread confusion about God’s anger in American Christianity. Remember this video for example? Some suppose that God never was angry. Others think that only the Father was angry. Many believe that God’s anger is a thing of the past, that God’s wrath was somehow done away with at the cross. Do we need to be saved from God?

The of doctrine hell was a significant subject in the Great Awakening. There is perhaps no greater witness to the wrath of God than the concept of eternal punishment. Hell doesn’t get much airtime these days. But didn’t Jesus have a lot to say about hell?

Love or Wrath?

At the heart of the issue is the (supposed) tension between wrath and love.  If God is love then how can he be wrathful? It’s gotta be one or the other.

The Bible indicates that God is indeed love. And it also makes clear that God is wrathful. So how do we harmonize these two traits?

Why Wrath?

The motivation behind God’s wrath is always the same – love. It’s precisely because God loves humanity that he shows anger towards us. In the presence of evil, love requires wrath.

Anger motivated by love can be seen in human relationships. And God himself is identified with human roles and relationships in Scripture. The Bible talks of God as a governor, father, and husband. Each of these human roles sometimes requires anger.

God the Governor

The Lord Jesus is the supreme King and Judge of the earth (John 5:22-27; Rev 19:15-16). As the kind and loving ruler of all creation he cannot overlook rebellion. When citizens of the Lord’s kingdom break the law there must be consequences. Otherwise innocent citizens will wrongfully suffer and rebellion will spread.

Mercy toward the oppressed sometimes requires severity toward the oppressor (Psalm 136:10). The just and righteous governor will be angered when the innocent are hurt. Punishment is the duty of any just ruler. The loving governor is angry at the enemies of his loved ones.

God the Father

Our Lord is more than a king to us – he is a father (Mat 6:9). As creator, God is a father to the entire human race (Acts 17:28). In any family a loving father wants what’s best for his whole family. His loving work of protecting and teaching the family sometimes involves corrective punishment.

As a father who loves his entire family, there are times when he is angry with some of his offspring. Children who work to destroy the family rightfully merit anger from a loving father’s heart. The father is angry because of his love.

God the Husband

The church is in preparation to be a bride for Jesus (Eph 5:25-32; 2 Cor 11:2). Normal husbands love their brides. And Christ loves his bride-to-be with an intense and sacrificial love.

Anger is the proper reaction of a husband toward those who do harm to his bride. He is bound to protect his wife from interlopers and rapists. God’s anger toward offenders is not in spite of his love, but because of his love.

Seeing God’s Wrath

God’s wrath was revealed in the Old Testament. When the Egyptian king went back on his word and tried to again enslave the Hebrew nation God unleashed his anger and destroyed Pharaoh’s army in the sea. He threatened the fledgling nation of Israel with wrath and punishment if they began to mistreat widows and orphans. When the Israelites began to fornicate with Moabite women and worship idols God’s anger sent a plague. His wrath was again stirred up when the Israelites began to offer their children as sacrifices to the idol Molech. Because of their transgression they were sent into captivity.

Then came Jesus. Many believe that since the death and resurrection of Jesus things are different. Now God is no longer angry at evildoers. But is this really the case?

The New Testament reveals a God who is still angry at sinners. Though it’s not stated explicitly, there can be no doubt that when Ananias, Sapphira, and then Herod were killed by God as a consequence of their sins we were seeing God’s wrath in action. And don’t forget the believers who were sick or dead (!) at Corinth because of their ungodly practices during their so-called Lord’s Supper.

The wrath of God is still being revealed – even after the cross (Rom 1:18; 2:5-8; 5:9; 12:19; 13:4; Eph 5:6; Col 3:6; 1 Thes 1:10; 2:16; 5:9). Perhaps most interesting is that wrath is ascribed to Jesus. At the end of time the world will see the “wrath of the Lamb” (Rev 6:16-17; 11:18; 14:10, 19; 15:1, 7; 16:1, 19; 19:5).  

Fleeing God’s Wrath

John the Baptist witnessed people who had been warned to “flee the wrath to come.” That kind of language might sound a bit antiquated, but it describes the wisest of all human activities. The day of God’s wrath is coming.

Today, however, is the day of salvation.

By running to Jesus now we can be saved from divine wrath. God saves us from his holy wrath against sin and its practitioners by transforming us into holy people. This transformation takes place from the inside out. All those who flee to Jesus now in faith and repentance will be saved. God’s plan is that we become united with his Son. We do this by baptism, receiving the gift of the Spirit, and following Jesus as disciples. As his bride (the church) our destiny is anything but wrath – we look forward to an unending relationship of love (1 Thes 5:9; Rev 19:7).

What Jesus Said About Hell

Here's some of the record of what Jesus said about hell. Jesus taught that it is a place of fire, torment, and eternal punishment. Through Jesus no one has to go there (John 3:16-17). 

Matthew 5:22 "But I say to you that everyone who is angry with his brother shall be guilty before the court; and whoever shall say to his brother, 'Raca,' shall be guilty before the supreme court; and whoever shall say, 'You fool,' shall be guilty enough to go into the fiery hell.

Matthew 5:27 ¶ "You have heard that it was said, 'You shall not commit adultery'; ²⁸ but I say to you, that everyone who looks on a woman to lust for her has committed adultery with her already in his heart. ²⁹ "And if your right eye makes you stumble, tear it out, and throw it from you; for it is better for you that one of the parts of your body perish, than for your whole body to be thrown into hell. ³⁰ "And if your right hand makes you stumble, cut it off, and throw it from you; for it is better for you that one of the parts of your body perish, than for your whole body to go into hell.

Matthew 10:28 "And do not fear those who kill the body, but are unable to kill the soul; but rather fear Him who is able to destroy both soul and body in hell.

Matthew 18:8 "And if your hand or your foot causes you to stumble, cut it off and throw it from you; it is better for you to enter life crippled or lame, than having two hands or two feet, to be cast into the eternal fire. ⁹ "And if your eye causes you to stumble, pluck it out, and throw it from you. It is better for you to enter life with one eye, than having two eyes, to be cast into the fiery hell.

Matthew 23:33 "You serpents, you brood of vipers, how shall you escape the sentence of hell?

Luke 16:22 "Now it came about that the poor man died and he was carried away by the angels to Abraham's bosom; and the rich man also died and was buried. ²³ "And in Hades he lifted up his eyes, being in torment, and saw Abraham far away, and Lazarus in his bosom.

Matthew 3:10 "And the axe is already laid at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.

Matthew 7:19 "Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.

Matthew 13:40 "Therefore just as the tares are gathered up and burned with fire, so shall it be at the end of the age. ⁴¹ "The Son of Man will send forth His angels, and they will gather out of His kingdom all stumbling blocks, and those who commit lawlessness, ⁴² and will cast them into the furnace of fire; in that place there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth.

Matthew 13:48 and when it was filled, they drew it up on the beach; and they sat down, and gathered the good fish into containers, but the bad they threw away. ⁴⁹ "So it will be at the end of the age; the angels shall come forth, and take out the wicked from among the righteous, ⁵⁰ and will cast them into the furnace of fire; there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth.

Matthew 25:41 "Then He will also say to those on His left, 'Depart from Me, accursed ones, into the eternal fire which has been prepared for the devil and his angels; ⁴² for I was hungry, and you gave Me nothing to eat; I was thirsty, and you gave Me nothing to drink; ⁴³ I was a stranger, and you did not invite Me in; naked, and you did not clothe Me; sick, and in prison, and you did not visit Me.' ⁴⁴ "Then they themselves also will answer, saying, 'Lord, when did we see You hungry, or thirsty, or a stranger, or naked, or sick, or in prison, and did not take care of You?' ⁴⁵ "Then He will answer them, saying, 'Truly I say to you, to the extent that you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to Me.' ⁴⁶ "And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life."

John 15:6 "If anyone does not abide in Me, he is thrown away as a branch, and dries up; and they gather them, and cast them into the fire, and they are burned.

The Suffering of the Impassible God (Patripassian Controversy)

Introduction

Chapter 1
Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Last chapter dealt with Docetism, which denied the full humanity of Christ in order to affirm his full (impassible) divinity. Now Gavrilyuk turns to another Christological controversy – Patripassianism. This controversy dealt with Christ’s relationship with his Father. How was the Father involved in Christ’s earthly ministry?

Noetus, Sabellius, Praxeas, and Callistus were the key figures in this controversy. Unfortunately, we do not have any of their writings. We learn of their views only through the writings of their theological opponents. This is problematic because we can’t be sure that the actual views of these men are accurately presented by those who disagreed.

The Patripassians were Modalists. Weinandy points out that the issue was not so much about impassibility as it was about the Trinity. The Modalists believed that the one God manifested himself sometimes as Father and sometimes as Son. This belief entailed that the Father suffered on the cross.

Harnack contended that no one actually believed that God suffered, it was only attributed by theological opponents. Gavrilyuk believes Harnack went too far in saying this. Surely someone said it, or else, ‘we’d have to imagine that all third- and fourth-century anti-Patripassian theologians were valiantly fighting with windmills.’ There is evidence to believe that Noetus, at least, taught that the Father suffered. Noetus’ view, as reported by Hippolytus, was a simple one: ‘If I acknowledge Christ to be God; He is the Father himself, if He is indeed God; and Christ suffered, being Himself God; and consequently the Father suffered, for He was the Father Himself.’

Hippolytus didn’t refute the claim that God suffered. He acknowledged that ‘the impassible Word of God underwent suffering through the flesh.’ What he did have a problem with was Noetus’ teaching that the Father became the Son. He refuted Noetus by pointing to some of the passages that show that Christ spoke to the Father, not himself. He also appealed to the rules of faith, ‘which spoke of the Father and the Son as coexisting entities, not as successive temporal modes of God.’

We do not know about what Noetus thought of the relationship between the humanity of Christ and the suffering of the Father. Also, Hippolytus’ presentations of Noetus’ though does not clarify how it can be said that the Father suffered if he was in the mode of Son during his suffering.

At the time when they wrote against Praxeas and Callistus, Tertullian and Hippolytus were both on the outs with the church and had other, unrelated, disputes with their Patripassian adversaries. This being the case, it’s reasonable to question just how charitable (and accurate) their interpretations are. [1] To add to the difficulty, Callistus excommunicated Sabellius (whose name later became synonymous with Modalism).

Hippolytus admits that Callistus was careful not to say that the Father suffered. Callistus rather said that ‘ton patera sumpeponqenai tw/ uivw.’ To Hippolytus this was nothing more than a word game. Likewise, Tertullian had to admit of Praxeas that he did not teach that the Father suffered on the cross, the Father only ‘compassibilis est.’ Tertullian thought this a feeble attempt to avoid the charge of Patripassianism. To him, being compassible could mean nothing other than ‘to suffer with another.’

It seems that neither Callistus nor Praxeas believed that Father and Son were successive roles. Instead they proposed something along the lines that ‘the Father’ corresponded with the spirit while ‘the Son’ pertained to the flesh. They likely used sumpascein in the Stoic sense (a term for the interaction of the body and soul). An example of this usage from Cleanthes: ‘the soul interacts (sumpascein) with the body when it is sick and being cut, and the body with the soul; thus when the soul feels shame and fear the body turns red and pale respectively.’ 

So, when the human body (the Son) suffered on the cross the spirit (the Father) was not totally unaffected. But neither did the Father suffer exactly as did the flesh. Gavrilyuk points out that if this interpretation of Callistus and Praxeas is correct then they were indeed onto something (in spite of their Trinitarian error). They pointed out that God ‘participated in death without dying and in suffering without being conquered by suffering.’

In summary, Noetus was truly a Patripassian. He taught that the Father and the Son were one and the same and suffered on the cross. Callistus and Praxeas contended that the Father only suffered through the Son (the flesh). Tertullian and Hippolytus emphasized that the Father and the Son were distinct, that the Father was not crucified.

Chapter 5

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[1] Praxeas and Callistus were both likely in good graces with the church. Callistus was bishop of Rome at the time.

Beards a Christian Duty?

Hmmm...

How womanly it is for one who is a man to comb himself and shave himself with a razor, for the sake of fine effect, and to arrange his hair at the mirror, shave his cheeks, pluck hairs out of them, and smooth them! ...For God wished women to be smooth and to rejoice in their locks alone growing spontaneously, as a horse in his mane. But He has adorned man, like the lions, with a beard, and endowed him, as an attribute of manhood, with a hairy chest -- a sign of strength and rule.                                                                  
                                                       - Clement of Alexandria (c. 195)


Men may not destroy the hair of their beards and unnaturally change the form of a man. For the Law says, "You will not deface your beards." For God the Creator has made this decent for women, but has determined that it is unsuitable for men.
                                     - Apostolic Constitutions (compiled c. 390)

The Suffering of the Impassible God (Docetism Resisted)

Introduction

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

The Suffering of the Impassible God

This chapter is so full of fascinating and important stuff that it’s been hard to choose what to leave out. At times I’ve wanted to quote pages on end. I continue to try to fairly represent Gavrilyuk’s work and leave off commentary until the end of the post.

“Docetism Resisted: Christ’s Suffering is Real”

Gavrilyuk now turns to Christological debates in the early church. Current scholarship tends to divide the Fathers into two camps – the impassibilists (the majority view) and the passibilists (the minority view). Sometimes the evidence for placing individuals in these camps is slim.

In previous chapters Gavriyuk has sought to demonstrate that this either/or approach to (im)passibility is inadequate. This proof-texting approach to the Fathers has failed to take into account the broader context of patristic belief and practice. “Instead of merely assembling theopaschite statements as presumably conveying a biblical idea of divine involvement, we will do better if we consider both impassibility and passibility as corollary terms necessary for an adequate account of the incarnation.” 

A Tension Introduced

From the beginning, Christians lived and died declaring faith in the crucified one. The NT includes (creedal) hymns devoted to the crucified Jesus. They tend to include three emphases – 1) pre-existence, 2) earthly ministry (including suffering and crucifixion), and 3) exaltation. Philippians 2 is a key example.

Many proto-creedal statements (such as those found in the writings of Justin Martyr) followed the same pattern for the second article – pre-existence, earthly ministry, and exaltation. Somehow, the one who is attributed ‘divine status’ is also said to suffer. Gavrilyuk contends that this creates a ‘tension [that] is stark and obvious.’ Origen put the tension this way: ‘he who was in the form of God saw fit to be in the form of a servant; while he who is immortal dies, and the impassible suffers, and the invisible is seen.’

Theology of Martyrdom

Early martyrs sought to ‘follow the footprints of the Lord’s passion’.[1] Ignatius of Antioch wrote to the church of Rome (on his way to execution): ‘Allow me to be the imitator of the sufferings of my God (πάθους του θεου μου).’ But Ignatius did not expect to suffer perpetually. He anticipated his following of Christ in suffering to lead to glorious freedom from suffering. In his letter to the Ephesians Ignatius declared that Christ was ‘first subject to suffering and then beyond it.’ Justin Martyr echoes this understanding in his writings – the destiny of those who imitate Christ is one of freedom from suffering (εν απαθεια). They will be raised ‘incorruptible, impassible, and immortal.’

Various New Testament writers insisted that Christ suffered but once (Rom 6:9-10; 1 Pet 3:18; Heb 7:27; 9:12, 26-28; 10:10). Likewise, many pre-creedal statements and ‘all later synodal creeds’ proclaim that Christ suffered sub Pontio Pilato. Jesus suffered at a specific point in time and space. 

Then again, the NT writers also speak of participation in Christ’s sufferings. For this communion to be possible it seems there must be some way that Christ continues to suffer. We cannot suffer with him if he is no longer in any way open to suffering. When Paul encountered the risen Christ he was told that he was persecuting Jesus (Act 9:4). And Paul later professed to bear the marks of Jesus in his body (Gal 6:17).

This idea of participatory suffering is found in the early Christian account of martyrdom, Passio Perpetuae et Felicitatis. Felicitas, a young woman, is one of five martyrs in the story. Prior to their execution she prematurely gives birth. When a guard sees her going through the pain of birth he comments that she will not be able to handle the suffering she will endure from the wild animals in the amphitheater. She responds, ‘I suffer now myself that which is natural. But then, another will be in me who will suffer for me, because I am about to suffer for him.’

The concept of mystical union with Christ in the hour of martyrdom is found in various martyr-acts.[2] “In contrast to Whitehead’s portrait of God as ‘a fellow-sufferer who understand’, in the scene of Blandina’s death [in The Letter of the Churches of Vienne and Lyons] Christ offers more than just a helpless commiseration. His suffering gives the power to withstand torture.” In the same letter deacon Sanctus endures excruciating torture including a red-hot iron applied to ‘the most delicate parts’ of his body. He was able to bear it because it was Christ who suffered in him and did great wonders, destroying the enemy and showing as a pattern to the rest that there is nothing terrible where there is the love of the Father, nothing painful where there is the glory of Christ.’ As deacon Sanctus was tortured the second time his first wounds were miraculously healed.

The earliest extant paschal sermon, by Melito of Sardis, contends that the Logos suffers not only in martyrs but in the OT saints as well:

It is he who in many endured many things: it is he that was murdered in Abel, and bound in Isaac, and exiled in Jacob, and sold in Joseph, and exposed in Moses, and slain in the lamb, and persecuted in David, and dishonored in the prophets. It is he that was enfleshed in a virgin, that was hanged on a tree, that was buried in the earth, that was raised from the dead, that was taken up to the heights of the heavens.

Interestingly, this same Father also made use of apophatic terms such as immortality and impassibility. Melito’s participatory view of OT suffering was not widely held among the Fathers. Instead, patristic theology tended to see a mere foreshadowing in the OT which would ultimately be realized in the incarnate work of Christ.

“Pagan Reactions to Worship of the Crucified God”

Pagans scoffed at the idea of a crucified God. A graffito from the second century gives poignant expression to the sentiment. A boy is seen kneeling in front of a crucified man with a donkey’s head. Below this drawing, on the same wall, is carved: ‘Alexamenos worshipping his god.’ Somehow, the belief that Jews worshipped a donkey came to be widespread. It was even reported that the holy of holies used to have a donkey’s head hanging on the wall. The graffito managed to mock Christians and Jews at the same time.

Christians were mocked through literary satire as well. In The Passing of Peregrinus martyrs were portrayed as objects of Christian worship. Jesus was presented as just a divinized martyr. The people who followed these martyrs were naïve and gullible.

Religiously devout pagans sometimes took even more serious offense to the crucified God. To them, such wholehearted commitment to an executed criminal should itself be considered a crime. Many feared that the gods were angry at the Christian’s single-hearted adoration of Christ.

Philosophically minded pagans raised their own objections. They contended that the Christians were being inconsistent. How was the invisible, omnipotent, impassible God seen, tortured, shamed, and crucified? Another declared that if Christ were really God he should ‘have disappeared suddenly from the cross.’  

Impassibility in Docetism

Docetism, narrowly defined, contended that Christ only seemed to have a human body. A more inclusive definition allows for various ways of dividing Jesus the human and the divine Christ. These two brands of docetic Christology shared in common the belief that the divine 

Christ did not personally experience human life.

The Docetists held that certain aspects of Christ’s ministry were beneath God’s dignity. They shared this conviction with their Hellenistic neighbors, and perhaps hoped to make the Christian faith more palatable to its cultured despisers. The Docetists did not worship a shamefully crucified slave. They worshipped a mighty God. For some of these folks the cross was valuable as a sort of cosmic symbol, never mind the historical cross. While on the one hand they would indulge in the wildest speculations, on the other they went to extremes of apophatism. They would rather reject the humanity of Christ than limit their doctrine of impassibility.

Docetism Rejected

Gnostics combined opposing theologies. They humanized the erotic gendered gods of mythology even further, making them subject to fears, anxieties, and burning lusts. Yet right in the middle of such theology they also engaged in the apophatic method. Some suggest that the inconsistency is only apparent. The Father is above all while all lesser deities are quite passible. Irenaeus rejected this view as illogical. If, as the Gnostics claimed, all lesser deities emanated from the Father (like rays from the sun) then they should be like him. He contended that logic dictates that either the Father is passible along with all his s divine offspring or he and they are impassible.

The patristic response was to simple. Rather than try to minimize or remove the scandal of the cross (as the Docetists attempted) they unapologetically affirmed it. Such lowly activity as the incarnation, suffering, and crucifixion of Christ were all deemed fitting because they were for our salvation. The only actions truly unworthy of God were the deceptive actions attributed to him by the Docetists. The Fathers insisted that the Impassible indeed suffered.

Closing Thoughts (Chapter 3)

I’m fascinated by the theology of martyrdom. I don’t recall ever running into these ideas before. Melito’s statements intrigue me. Do we enter the suffering of Christ by his participation in our present sufferings? It makes me think of a verse that has long puzzled me – Col 1:24.

The mystery of God’s way is unquestionably amazing. In spite of his transcendence and power, in spite of his triune self-sufficiency, the Father sent, the divine Son condescended and suffered, and the Spirit enabled and applied the work – all to reconcile us to himself. I’m amazed at such love – whether you call it passible or impassible!

Chapter 4

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[1] Irenaeus of Lyons

[2] Martyrium Polycarpi and The Letter of the Churches of Vienne and Lyons for example. 

Who Would Jesus Visit?

Someone recently asked me whether I like to visit people as a part of my role as a pastor. The answer is a definite yes. Through those visits relationships deepen. I don’t just teach – I learn. I don’t just encourage – I’m encouraged.

Allow me to reminisce a bit. Out of respect for people’s privacy, most of these names will be changed.

Jeff didn’t leave the house much. In order to leave the house he had to overcome more fear and anxiety than most of us can imagine. I counted it an honor to get to go to him. I got to pray for him, talk with him, and get to know him. Eventually we even went out riding together – him on his motorcycle and me on my Vespa-like scooter. I believe it was largely because of those visits that Jeff started coming to church.

For some time I worshipped on Tuesday and Thursday evenings with a small black congregation (well, there was that one white lady…and me). Those services were wonderful. The people were filled with the love of God. And the music was incredible (all a capella). They lined hymns like "A Charge to Keep I Have" (sounded a lot like that too) “Am I a Soldier of the Cross?” And then they would sing happy choruses like “Joy Bells” or this one. During that time one of the deacons, an octogenarian, fell ill and was hospitalized. So I figured I’d go visit. He was a sick man. But that man was so full of the Joy of the Lord that I left that hospital greatly encouraged. I think 

I got more out of that visit than he did!

Then there was Jim. Jim had never been visited by his pastor before the first time I came to visit. He’d been in church for about 40 years. At the time he was roughly 70 years old. Somehow, I was the first pastor to visit this godly man at his home. I was encouraged through those visits. And I got to meet more of his family. I counted it an honor to be welcomed into their lives.

Sean finally got clean. He had been an alcoholic for years. Then he moved on to crack cocaine. But Jesus got a hold of him. He started coming to church and turning his back on those old ways. That didn’t mean that life suddenly became a bed of roses. He went through some dark and discouraged days. Time and again I’d come over to find him depressed. But then, after a short time of Christian fellowship, he would begin to brighten up. Life, energy, and hope would return to his spirit. And, of course, I too left a bit happier than when I came.

Grandma Moses was the sweetest old lady. She lived on her own. She had no family nearby. As far as I know she didn’t really have any visitors. But week after week our visits left me encouraged. It was always a delight to hear that lady pray. She had a faith that had stood the test of time.

I’m tempted to tell about others. But I won’t.

Would Jesus Visit?

It so happened that the day before I was asked that question about visiting, the Lord had been reminding me of just how important pastoral visitation is. I had been reading a book about ministry by Thomas Oden in which he emphasizes the centrality of the ancient tradition of pastoral visitation. Good shepherds have visited the poor, sick, lonely, suffering, and dying from the beginning.

Some of the earliest Christian writings came from the pen of a pastor named Ignatius. Around 105 A.D. Ignatius exhorted Christians:

Labor together with one another, strive together, run together, suffer together, rest together, rise up together – as God’s stewards and assistants and servants.

It seems that Pastor Ignatius did not think that it was good to live the Christian life alone. It sounds like he thought we should visit.

Likewise, the Didache, which many early Christians considered to be Scripture, encouraged regular visitation:

Wherever the Lord’s attributes are the subject of discourse, there the Lord is present. Frequent the company of the saints daily, so as to be edified by their conversation.

A good shepherd does not stay at home waiting for the lost sheep to come home. The Apostolic Constitutions (another book that was considered Scripture by many), urges:

Like a compassionate shepherd, be a diligent feeder of the flock. Search out, and keep an account of the flock. Seek out the one that has need, just as the Lord God our gracious Father sent His own Son, the good Shepherd and Saviour, to seek us. Our Master Jesus said: “if one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them, does he not leave the ninety-nine in the open pasture and go after the missing one until he has found it? How delighted he is then! He lifts it on his shoulders, and home he goes to call his friends and neighbours together, and says, ‘I have found my lost sheep.’”

How many times has a Christian slipped out of the church without a visit from anyone? This should never be!

Go Visit!

True religion is about staying pure and visiting orphans and widows (James 1:27). Visiting is not just for pastors. It’s also not just about visiting your friends. It’s not about visiting people who are like you. God sends us to the poor, lonely, jailed, hospitalized, shut-in, weird, and uncool. Jesus taught us to invite people over for dinner who can’t afford to invite us over in return.

But don’t worry. Like all the other duties of the Christian life, visiting is a blessing. Do you want to be happy? Fulfilled? Go visit in the name of the Lord! After all, in everyone you visit you’ll be visiting the Lord (Mat 25:34-40).

Suffering Impassible God (Impassibility as an Apophatic Qualifier)

Introduction

Chapter 1

Suffering Impassible God (Impassibility as an Apophatic Qualifier)

“This chapter offers a preliminary analysis of the function of the divine impassibility in select patristic sources without special reference to the Christological debates on the incarnation.” The Fathers did not emphasize impassibility. They wrote much more about God’s love, mercy, anger, and compassion than his impassibility.

Gavrilyuk contends that, contrary to the claims of the proponents of the Theory of Theology’s Fall into Hellenistic Philosophy, the Fathers did not associate apatheia with divine apathy or indifference. He presents three functions of impassibility in patristic thought:

1. Distinguishing the true God from the gods of mythology
2. Affirming God’s impassibility was not incompatible with his “emotionally coloured characteristics, e.g., love, mercy, and compassion.” And especially anger.
3. Impassibility was part of apophatic theology. It was primarily an ontological rather than a psychological term.

God is Unlike Pagan Deities

The gods of mythology were passionate and weak. Even pagan philosophers (beginning with Xenophanes in the sixth century B.C.) accused polytheists of illegitimate anthropomorphism. Christians continued the assault against pagan concepts of the divine.

For the most part, early Christian apologists simply echoed the arguments that had long been leveled against the gods of mythology. These arguments included: 1) the events of mythology were no events at all, simply fables; 2) If there were any kernel of truth in the stories at all it lay in the lives of ordinary humans who were later elevated to divine status after death; 3) Some of the gods seemed to be only the personification of certain (rather undesirable) human passions.

Christians did make at least one new contribution. They contended that the demigods were in fact evil demons – fallen angels. “Christians did not hesitate to identify all the immortal inhabitants of Olympus with these unseemly creatures, the demons.”

The gods of mythology were subject to passions. Justin points out that, in contradistinction to the Christian God, Persephone and Aphrodite were “stung to madness by love for Adonis,” others lusted for women, Thetis was worried that her son Achilles “should destroy many of the Greeks because of his concubine Briseis.” Contrasted with such gods, it is clear that the Christian God is impassible. God is not a slave to intense and irrational emotional outbursts of anger, envy, lust, greed, hatred, and vengeance.

By making clear that God is unlike the gods of pagan religions, the Fathers prepared the way for their declaration that the Christian God possessed “God-befitting emotionally couloured characteristics such as mercy, love, and compassion.” “Divine impassibility meant first of all that God is in total control of his actions and that morally objectionable emotions are alien to him.”

God’s Anger

As we have seen, around the time of Christianity’s birth educated pagans had, as a whole, come to affirm divine impassibility. The Fathers, while critical of the ignoble acts and emotions of the deities of the folk religions that surrounded them, were themselves criticized by their educated neighbors for believing in a deity who was sometimes subject to similar emotional displays. To them, the Christian understanding of impassibility was too weak.

Speaking of divine anger in the OT, Julian said:

The philosophers bid us imitate the gods so far as we can, and they teach us that this imitation consists in the contemplation of realities. And that this sort of study is remote from passion (δίχα πάθους) and is indeed based on freedom from passion (εν απάθεια κειται), is, I suppose, evident, even without my saying it. In proportion then as we, having been assigned to the contemplation of realities, attain to freedom from passion (εν απάθεια), in so far do we become like God. But what sort of imitation of God is praised among the Hebrews? Anger and wrath and fierce jealousy (οργή καί θυμός καί ζήλος άγριος).

This critique is representative of many others of the time.

Seneca, evidencing the popularity of the Stoic claim that anger is always beneath even an earthly philosopher, let alone God, claimed that “the philosophical schools were in agreement that God is free from anger.” Some Christian apologists, such as Athenagoras, Aristides, and Arnobius, accepted the dominant view of the day and insisted that God is never angry, since anger is always evil.

Marcion, who rejected the OT and its warlike God, spurred the Fathers on to develop a more nuanced account of divine anger. Most of the Fathers (Gavrilyuk emphasizes Irenaeus and Tertullian here) stubbornly held to their conviction that God’s anger is fitting – a manifestation of his justice. Irenaeus wrote:

That they [the Marcionites] might take away the vindictive and judicial power from the Father, imagining that to be unworthy of God, and thinking that they had found a god angerless (sine iracundia) and good, they taught that the one [god] is a judge and the other is a savior, ignorant of the fact that they were taking away the intelligence and justice of both deities.

In an endeavor to articulate the importance of God’s anger, Tertullian introduced a new expression – ‘judicial sentiment’ (judiciaries sensus). Tertullian contended that if God could not be angry several other characteristics would be lost as well. He could not be just, merciful, good, or intelligent if he could not be angry.

The Pseudo-Clementine Recognitions (Gavrilyuk suggests an early third century dating and Syriac origin) presents a view that, like Tertullian’s connects justice and anger:

[T]he philosophers say that god is not angry, not knowing what they say. For anger is evil whenever it disturbs the mind (mentem turbat) so that it destroys right judgment. That anger, however, which punishes the wicked does not bring on disturbance of the mind (perturbationem menti non infert), but is, I may say, one and the same affection which allots rewards to the good and punishment to the wicked. For if he should give blessings to the virtuous and to the wicked and bestow similar remuneration on the good and the evil, he would appear unjust rather than good.

This prominent strand of early Christian thinking insisted that without divine anger there can be no divine justice.

Lactantius further developed the Christian response to the philosophers’ denial of divine anger. He refuted the Epicurean’s total rejection of providence. Then he went on to contend with the Stoic belief that anger is always evil – a belief that some were quite strongly committed to. “Seneca went so far as to say that even when a horrible crime, like the killing of one’s father and the rape of one’s mother was committed before the philosopher’s very eyes, a true lover of wisdom should remain tranquil and would strive to avenge and protect his relatives without anger.” Lactantius insisted that anger was fitting when directed toward the punishment of the wicked. When crimes are committed in God’s world (which Lactantius compares to a household), it is right for God to punish those crimes. God’s anger is always just. “Justin, Theophilus, Cyprian, Commodian, and others shared the conviction that anger was a powerful tool for expressing condemnation of sin.”

But does God feel anger? Clement of Alexandrian and Origen say no. They taught that the Bible attributes anger to God so that holy fear will fall upon the simple. Of course Clement and Origen knew that such language wasn’t to be taken literally. Likewise, John Cassian denied that God himself felt anger. Rather, the wrath of God was something humans felt. Augustine too sometimes held this subjectivist view of divine anger.

Tertullian, Lactantius, Novatian, and Cyril of Alexandria weighed in on the other side of this debate. Though they were careful to nuance the assertion, they did maintain that God felt anger. God is never overpowered by anger. He is always in control of his anger. And he is always angry for the right reasons. Yet, God does indeed feel anger. Tertullian (who affirmed divine impassiblity) said that the ‘human soul has the same emotions and sensations as God,’ believing that our emotions are part of the imago Dei in human beings.

Similarly, at least in some places, Augustine contends that God does experience a variety of human emotions.

[A]lthough God cannot suffer [anything evil] (deus nihil [mali] pati posit), and patience (patienda) surely has its name from suffering (patiendo), we not only faithfully believe in a patient God (patientem Deum), but also steadfastly acknowledge Him to be such. Who can explain in words the nature and the quatity of God’s patience? We say He is impassible (nihil patientem), yet not impatient (impatientem); nay, rather, extremely patient (patientissimum). His patience is indescribable, yet it exists as does His jealousy, His wrath, and any characteristic of this kind. But, if we conceive of these qualities, as they exist in us, He has none of them. We do not experience these feelings without annoyance (sine molestia), but far be it from us to suspect an impassible God (impassiblem Dei) of suffering any annoyance. Just as He is jealous without any ill will, as He is angry without being emotionally upset, as He pities without grieving, as He is sorry without correcting any fault, so He is patient without suffering at all.

Augustine doesn’t deny divine emotions, but contends that they lack all the negative aspects of human emotions.

Impassibility as Apophatic Qualifier of Divine Emotions

Divine impassibility doesn’t tend to show up alone. Gavrilyuk contends that proponents of the Theory of Theology’s Fall into Hellenistic Philosophy have often overlooked this context. Impassibility comes up along with other declarations of what God is not. God is not visible, finite, effable, created, corruptible, mutable, or passible. Some of these apophatic statements should not be taken to their absolute logical limits. They all serve to show that God is transcendent. He is unlike his creatures.

His dissimilarity to creatures runs both ways. For instance, God is said to be invisible. This, however, may be primarily a statement about our (at least for the time being) creaturely limitations. We cannot see him in his fullness. “[T]he adjectives invisible, incomprehensible, and inexpressible qualify to see, comprehend, and describe God. These qualifiers do not function in such a way as to rule out God’s ability to disclose himself to humans. In this case, negation functions as superlative.”

So, when patristic theology insists that God is not passible it does not mean that God has no emotions whatsoever. The Fathers did not portray God as apathetic or indifferent. The term apatheia was only intended to convey that God does not experience emotions precisely as we do. Well…until we start talking about the incarnation.

Closing Thoughts (Chapter 2)

I really enjoyed this chapter. I was a bit surprised to see how much Gavrilyuk’s evidence  still seems to support the idea that Hellenistic philosophy influenced patristic theology(e.g. Athenagoras, Aristides, and Arnobius all insisted that God was never angry). I had gotten the impression that he was going to utterly demolish the Theory.

I liked the handy listing of which Fathers took a more subjectivist view of divine anger and which believed that God felt emotions in himself. At this point, Tertullian’s understanding resonates with me. I suspect that human emotions are part of the vestigial imago Dei.

It’s been interesting to see how often the philosophers suppose that God (or gods) serves as an example for humans. So, if God doesn't get angry then humans shouldn’t get angry. If we applied that sort of thinking in reverse, going from prescribed NT ethics for humans to God (who we’re surely called to imitate), would we suppose that God is emotional?

The NT commands and condemns many emotions. It also commands imitation of God. This may be a way around the objection that language about God’s emotions is only anthropopathic. Even if we grant that, if we are called to rejoice, be glad, weep, pity, and practice patience should we not suppose that God’s emotional life is somehow alike?

Speaking of patience or longsuffering, Augustine’s introduction of patience into this discussion interests me immensely. How can a being who never suffers be said to be patient?

Chapter 3