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John Frame Is Not a “Theistic Mutualist”

Posted on by P&R Staff

By James N. Anderson.1

Author Note: This article was originally posted on the author’s personal blog (dated 4/17/25). Some context may be helpful for the reader. In my estimation, Dr. John Frame is one of the most gifted and important Christian thinkers of the last 50 years, and his writings have been a significant influence on my own theological development. Because of his uncompromising commitment to the Protestant doctrine of Sola Scriptura, Dr. Frame has been unafraid to raise questions about the way in which some traditional Reformed doctrines have been formulated and defended. In response, his critics have sometimes portrayed him as standing outside the mainstream of Reformed theology (and even, in some cases, as unorthodox). This article is a modest attempt to set the record straight about one aspect of Dr. Frame’s doctrine of God. It was occasioned by the author happening upon a post in a popular online discussion forum that absurdly associated Dr. Frame with process theism. Obedience to the ninth commandment requires us to accurately and charitably represent the views of others, even when (indeed, especially when) we disagree with them.

In his influential book, All That Is in God (Reformation Heritage Books, 2017), James Dolezal draws a sharp distinction between “classical Christian theism” and what he calls “theistic mutualism.” Dr. Dolezal criticizes a number of evangelical theologians, including some who identify with the Reformed tradition, for embracing theistic mutualism. One of his targets is John Frame. But is Dolezal right to categorize Frame as a theistic mutualist? I will argue here that this is a mistake. Dr. Frame, it turns out, is neither a “classical Christian theist” nor a “theistic mutualist” as Dolezal defines those terms.2

What is Theistic Mutualism?

In chapter 1 of his book, Dolezal defines and distinguishes two “distinctly different models” of Christian theism. The older of these two models is “classical Christian theism”:

It is marked by a strong commitment to the doctrines of divine aseity, immutability, impassibility, simplicity, eternity, and the substantial unity of the divine persons. The underlying and inviolable conviction is that God does not derive any aspect of His being from outside Himself and is not in any way caused to be. (p. 1)

Note the implication of the second sentence: presumably the other model will be such that God does derive some “aspect of His being from outside Himself” and is subject to external causation. In other words, the other model will be characterized by a denial of divine aseity.

The second model is “the newer approach of theistic mutualism” (p. 1). In a footnote, Dolezal clarifies what he means by ‘mutualism’:

“Mutualism,” as I am using the term, denotes a symbiotic relationship in which both parties derive something from each other. In such a relation, it is requisite that each party be capable of being ontologically moved or acted upon and thus determined by the other. This does not necessarily require parity between the parties involved. Accordingly, a mutualistic relation could obtain even if only one of the parties involved were the architect and ultimate regulator of the relation. (p. 1, fn. 1)

Dolezal further explains that according to theistic mutualists, “God is involved in a genuine give-and-take relationship with His creatures” (p. 2). Although some theistic mutualists identify with the Calvinist tradition, “many of them share with open and process theists the theistic mutualist belief that God’s being is such that He is capable of being moved by His creatures” (p. 3). This second model holds to “the newer ideal of a mutually interactive, give-and-take relationship with God” (p. 5). Theistic mutualists undermine divine perfection, Dolezal contends, because “God has been reconceived as deriving some aspects of His being in correlation with the world” (p. 6). While the “modern Calvinist theologians” who have embraced theistic mutualism explicitly reject open theism and process theism, they have arguably “already embraced a rudimentary form of process theism to the extent that they allow some measure of ontological becoming and dependency in God” (p. 7).

What’s very clear is that theistic mutualism, as Dolezal describes it, is characterized by a denial of God’s absolute independence. For the theistic mutualist, God is dependent on his creation, specifically in the sense that God is ‘moved’ by his creatures; that is to say, the creatures cause God to change.

Is John Frame a Theistic Mutualist?

Let’s begin by conceding that Dr. Frame is not a classical Christian theist as Dolezal defines that position. Frame has argued that God has both atemporal and temporalaspects, and thus that there is a sense in which “God dwells in time.” For example, from his Systematic Theology:3

[God] really is “in” time, but he also transcends time in such a way as to have an existence “outside” it. He is both inside and outside of the temporal box, a box that can neither confine him nor keep him out. That is the model that does most justice to the biblical data. (p. 367)

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For Frame, then, there is a sense in which God changes. On the one hand, God has (eternally, atemporally) decreed whatsoever comes to pass. But on the other hand, since God is also “in” time, as an agent who interacts with his creatures in the course of history, God changes in accordance with those interactions:

[T]he historical process does change, and as an agent in history, God himself changes. On Monday, he wants something to happen, and on Tuesday, something else. He is grieved one way, pleased the next. In my view, anthropomorphic is too weak a description of these narratives. In these accounts, God is not merely like an agent in time. He really is in time, changing as others change. And we should not say that his atemporal, changeless existence is more real than his changing existence in time, as the term anthropomorphic suggests. Both are real. (p. 377, italics original)

Since he holds that God is not purely atemporal, and that God changes in some real sense, Frame does not affirm unqualified divine immutability and is therefore not a “classical Christian theist” in the Dolezal sense.4 But does it therefore follow that Frame is a theistic mutualist? No, it does not, for at least two reasons.

First, Frame unambiguously affirms and defends the doctrine of divine aseity, according to which God is absolutely independent of anything external to him. He writes:

God is self-existent and self-sufficient (a se). He is not dependent on any being outside himself for his existence or sustenance. Implicitly, his attributes are also a se. His power, love, and knowledge do not depend on anyone or anything other than himself. (p. 37)

Chapter 19 of Frame’s Systematic Theology is devoted to the idea that God is ‘self-contained’ and thus has the attribute of aseity or independence. Frame notes that when he speaks of God as “absolute personality,” the ‘absolute’ specifically connotes aseity. For Frame, God’s independence is “absolute independence” such that God is “absolutely self-existent and self-sufficient in all things” (p. 407). God’s self-containedness extends to his eternal decree, by which he foreordains whatsoever comes to pass: “his decree is not dependent on the world [and] is unchangeable, not subject to the influence of creatures” (p. 407).5 This absolute independence is tied to the Creator-creature distinction, which is foundational to Frame’s theology and metaphysics. If God were dependent on the world in any sense, Frame contends, “then there would be no clear distinction between Creator and creature” (p. 412).

If God has absolute independence and aseity, as Frame insists, it follows that God’s relationship to his creatures cannot be “a symbiotic relationship in which both parties derive something from each other” such that God is “ontologically moved or acted upon and thus determined by the other” (which is how Dolezal defines ‘mutualism’). Likewise, it follows that God is not moved or caused to change by his creatures. Since theistic mutualism, according to Dolezal, is characterized by a denial of God’s absolute independence, Frame is clearly not a theistic mutualist.

Secondly, Frame’s proposal that God has a temporal aspect and changes in some respects does not in and of itself entail theistic mutualism. Consider these two propositions:

  1. God changes.
  2. God is changed by his creatures.

These are not logically equivalent propositions; one could affirm the first without being committed to the second. Here’s a thought experiment to illustrate. Suppose, following Frame, that God is timeless sans creation but freely chooses to create a space-time universe and “enters into” time at the point of creation, such that he is “both inside and outside of the temporal box.” Suppose further that God has sovereignly decreed that the only object in this universe will be an atomic clock that displays the number of milliseconds since the first moment of time. (Leave aside the problematic physics of this scenario!) Being omniscient, God would know at every moment that the clock nowdisplays such-and-such (e.g., after one second, it displays “1000”). But since the clock’s display changes over time, so does God’s knowledge of what it displays (now is it “1001,” now it is “1002,” etc.). It should be clear that although God’s knowledge changes over time, it isn’t changed by the clock. The clock itself isn’t causing the changes in God’s knowledge. Rather, the clock is changing because God has decreed, created, and continues to sustain the entire universe, including the clock.6 God’s knowledge is dependent only on his decree, not on his creation. So, although God changes along with his creation, God is still absolutely independent of his creation (and the creation is absolutely dependent on him). The causal relationship is exclusively from God to the creation.

The only reason one would think that God changes entails God is caused to changewould be if one held to the Aristotelian dictum that “whatever is moved is moved by another,” i.e., that any change in X must be explained in terms of a cause external to X. As a Thomist, Dolezal presumably holds that view. But Frame himself is not constrained by Aristotelian metaphysics, so he is free to maintain that God himself is the sole source of any changes in God. In short, God changes because he sovereignly decrees to change. There’s simply no ‘mutualism’ to be seen here.

That Frame understands divine change in terms of a unilateral dependence relationship is illustrated by this passage:

Some “changes in God” can be understood in this way [i.e., as mere “Cambridge changes”], but it would be wrong, I think, to understand all of them according to this model. For one thing, Reformed theology insists that when a person moves from the sphere of wrath to that of grace, it is because God has moved him there. God’s “change” in this context (from wrath to grace) is not the product of creaturely change; rather, the creaturely changes come by God’s initiative. (p. 373)

In other words, there is real change in God, but the source of the change is entirely on the Creator side.

There’s one potential fly in the ointment, however. According to Dolezal, theistic mutualists typically hold that God is “involved in a genuine give-and-take relationship with His creatures,” and Frame seems to say exactly that:

For example, a covenantally present God, like a temporalist God, can know (and assert) temporally indexed expressions such as “the sun is rising now.” He can feel with human beings the flow of time from one moment to the next. He can react to events in a significant sense (events that, to be sure, he has foreordained). He can mourn one moment and rejoice the next. He can hear and respond to prayer in time. Since God dwells in time, there is give-and-take between him and human beings. (pp. 366-67)

Isn’t Frame convicted by his own words here? No, because Frame doesn’t conceive of this ‘give-and-take’ relationship in the way that Dolezal attributes to theistic mutualists, i.e., as a mutual dependence relationship, a bilateral causal relationship. We’ve seen that Frame insists upon the absolute independence of God, and thus we need to interpret his ‘give-and-take’ claims in that light. Notice that even in the passage quoted above, Frame affirms that every temporal event — including those in which God ‘reacts’ to events in time — has been foreordained by God. Again, the idea is that God’s actions in time are no more than the outworking of his eternal decree. This interpretation of Frame’s ‘give-and-take’ language is confirmed by what he writes a couple paragraphs later:

But this temporal immanence does not contradict his lordship over time or the exhaustiveness of his decree. These temporal categories are merely aspects of God’s general transcendence and immanence as the Lord. The “give-and-take” between God and the creation requires not a reduced, but an enhanced view of God’s sovereignty. We must recognize God as Lord in time as well as Lord above time. (p. 367)

In other words, Frame’s conception of the ‘give-and-take’ is specifically tailored to acknowledge what he affirms elsewhere about God’s absolute sovereignty and aseity. It’s reasonable to assume that Frame felt the need to put quote marks around “give-and-take” to indicate that this relationship between God and his creatures is not to be equated with the ordinary give-and-take relationships that hold between creatures (such as a back-and-forth conversation between two friends, or a negotiation between two traders, where neither party is fully in control and thus there is a mutual dependence relation).

This understanding is further confirmed by Frame’s use of the same language in chapter 35 (“Human Responsibility and Freedom”) where he deploys the authorial analogy (“author-character model”) to help illustrate the relationship between divine agency and human agency in the course of history:

The relation between the author and his characters is analogous to the third lordship attribute: covenant presence. The author is always present in the drama, arranging the whole drama to fit the characters and the characters to fit the drama. He blesses and judges, using his own standards of evaluation. He is committed to the world that he has made. His characters take on lives of their own, lives of creaturely otherness. He does not treat them as robots, even though he has complete control over them. Rather, he interacts with them as person to persons, treating them as responsible individuals with whom he enjoys a certain communion. In the sense I mentioned earlier, even though God has complete control over nature and history, his creatures do influence his plan. So between God and his creatures there is a certain give-and-take, as is characteristic of personal relationships. (p. 841)

Note the crucial qualifications on this ‘give-and-take’. God is the sole author of the “whole drama” of his creation. His creatures are not ‘co-authors’ but only characters in his story. God has “complete control over nature and history.” Yet at the same time, God himself appears as a character in the story he has authored, and thus there are character-to-character interactions between God and his creatures within that story. Yes, his creatures “influence his plan,” but only in the sense that God arranges “the whole drama to fit the characters and the characters to fit the drama.”7 This is not the kind of ‘influence’ that theistic mutualists ascribe to creatures, where God has to cede some degree of control to them such that he is no longer absolutely independent.

It should be quite clear, then, that while Frame does not subscribe to classical Christian theism, as Dolezal defines it, neither does he embrace the characteristic tenets of theistic mutualism (let alone “a rudimentary form of process theism”). Even though Frame wants to say that God has a “temporal aspect” and “dwells in time” insofar as he is “covenantally present” with his creation, he is very careful to articulate this in a way consistent with his commitment to God’s absolute independence from and sovereignty over his creatures.

Why Does Any of This Matter?

It matters for at least three reasons.

First, it matters because it reveals that Dr. Dolezal’s division between “classical Christian theists” and “theistic mutualists” is prejudicial and inadequate. Prejudicial, because it groups conservative Calvinists like Frame, who hold that God sovereignly decrees whatsoever comes to pass, with open theists and even process theists, who hold that God is radically dependent on his creatures. Inadequate, because it fails to recognize that it’s possible to be neither a classical Christian theist nor a theistic mutualist, as Dolezal defines those categories.8

Secondly, it matters because if you’re going to charge someone with serious theological error (especially one with “idolatrous implications”) you ought to take special care to accurately represent that person’s position and to interpret it charitably in light of their other theological convictions.

Finally, and most lamentably, it matters because I fear too many people have been made suspicious of Dr. Frame’s theological writings (writings that would actually benefit them immensely) by the misguided charge that he is a “theistic mutualist” who will place them on a slippery slope to process theism. On the contrary, there are few theologians today who will better equip you to avoid such an attenuated view of God.

Readers familiar with Frame’s analysis of historic doctrines and current questions will welcome this second installment in the Theology of Lordship series. Here he examines the attributes, acts, and names of God in connection with a full spectrum of relevant theological, ethical, spiritual truths.

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Footnotes

  1. Dr. James N. Anderson, Carl W. McMurray Professor of Theology and Philosophy, Academic Dean, Reformed Theological Seminary, Charlotte, North Carolina. Used with author’s permission.
  2. For Frame’s own response to Dolezal, see: https://frame-poythress.org/scholasticism-for-evangelicals-thoughtson-all-that-is-in-god-by-james-dolezal/
  3. John M. Frame, Systematic Theology: An Introduction to Christian Belief (P&R Publishing, 2013). I will be quoting from this work since it represents Frame’s most recent and extensive discussions of the divine attributes. The relevant sections in ST are largely reproduced, with minimal changes, from Frame’s The Doctrine of God (P&R Publishing, 2002).
  4. Frame carefully specifies the ways in which he does hold God to be unchanging (see pp. 373–76). For the record, I do not share Frame’s views on divine temporality. I think all the biblical data can be accounted for on the view that God is the timeless cause of temporal effects within the creation. I take myself to be a classical Christian
    theist as Dolezal defines it. But it’s not my purpose here to defend that position, and nothing in my defense of Frame depends on my own views.
  5. For Frame’s lengthy discussion of God’s decrees, see pp. 206–28.
  6. Actually, the clock is strictly superfluous to the illustration. Even without it, God would always know the number of milliseconds that have passed since the moment of creation.
  7. Compare what Frame says on p. 839: “The author has complete control over his characters. But as I indicated in my discussion of creaturely otherness, the author seeks to make the characters and events fit together in a coherent and artistic way.”
  8. For the record, I actually agree with most of the theological positions Dolezal defends in his book. I’m simply taking issue with his characterization of Frame and the way he frames (no pun intended) the debate over different
    models of Christian theism.

Motives, Means, and Sources: The Paths to Virtue

Posted on by P&R Staff

It’s hard to defeat vice and attain virtue. As Charles Taylor observed, “High standards need strong sources.” If we believe it’s right to love others and sacrifice for them, we must admit that high ideals “exact a high cost.” If we commit to love others sacrificially, we will lose freedom to do whatever we please to satisfy our desires.1 To care for an aging relative is to forgo vacations in distant lands; why do people make such sacrifices? To sustain a commitment to virtues such as service, when they bring no obvious reward, we need the right motives and sound methods. The first motive is a commitment to realism.

Realism Reveals the Need for Virtue

Years ago, several dozen people witnessed my lack of virtue. At the time, I was the solo pastor of a small new church that had just enough young athletes to field a team in a credible basketball league. I was twenty- eight and just 6’1”, but my vertical leap let me block shots on good days, so that I often guarded the other team’s tallest player. In one game, I had five clean blocks on a taller man in thirty minutes. Sadly, the principal referee was the indolent sort who cannot sustain concentration. When events required him to make a call, he seemed to rely on guesses about probabilities. With each blocked shot, he apparently thought: “Not real tall or especially athletic. Probably a foul.” After each block, his whistle blew. My teammates groaned. My opponent even whispered an apology: “That block was clean . . . [pause] but I will take the foul shots.” After five clean blocks and five bad calls, I had fouled out of the game. (I committed fouls on two other plays, but the ref missed them, too.)

Tramping off the court, I meant to object quietly, but what emerged was a bellow in the referee’s general direction: “You know, it would be nice if you would try watching the game. Then you might see what actually happens, instead of guessing and tooting your whistle at random.” I slumped onto the bench, dejected. Minutes later, the game ended in defeat, and a deacon sat down to rebuke me:

“You can’t shout at the ref like that.”
I protested: “That ref is awful. Every block was clean.”
He replied, “We know that, but you’re our pastor.”
I fumed, “When I’m on the court, I’m a basketball player, not a pastor.”

The deacon corrected me again: “Yes, on the court, you are a basketball player. But you are always our pastor.” At once, I knew that our deacon was right. I realized how peevish, how unmoored, I had sounded. Everyone at the gym had witnessed my pride, wrath, and folly. The deacon’s firm but calm rebuke was a gift. So was the sudden grasp of the way I sounded to people who (surprisingly) looked up to me. Seeing my folly motivated me to grow.

The Motives for Virtue

Let’s remember: to gain virtue, we must discern and practice what is good, even under duress. A truly patient woman remains serene despite preposterous accusations and sleep deprivation. A realistic self-appraisal is essential to growth in virtue. If we are too negative, we despair; if too positive, we see no need to grow.

Unfortunately, our sins and vices are often invisible to us. When gluttons drink until they’re inebriated, do they know that they embarrass themselves? Sloths, always late and unprepared, keep producing excuses; do they know that no one believes them? The proud blather on as though everyone will agree with them if they keep talking. The envious disparage their imagined competition, as if that will elevate them, and the lustful drool over luxuries they do not need and women they do not know. Do they realize how foolish they look? If their conscience corrects them, they may repent.

Most people admire the classic virtues—wisdom, justice, courage, and self- control. Many also praise distinctively Christian virtues such as love, joy, peace, faithfulness, and gratitude, but we need motives that are sufficient for the toil. It’s easy to see that moral virtue may bring benefits. Moral virtue brings honor rather than dishonor and friendships instead of isolation. After all, who listens to known liars? And who trusts promise- breakers? Industry leads to prosperity, and contentment fosters internal peace. John Stuart Mill would say that people seek virtue because it brings pleasures such as honor, wealth, power, peace, and friends. According to Mill, people seek virtue because it brings them a form of pleasure.

Scripture sees our motivation differently. It declares that our ultimate goal is the glory of God (1 Cor. 10:31). It says that the ultimate source of virtue is a good heart, one that loves God and neighbor (Matt. 12:34–35; 22:36–39). Scripture also acknowledges secondary motivations. We can be moved by duty (Luke 17:10), by a desire to be like God (Rom. 8:29), or by fear of God (Prov. 1:7).

Motivation is multifaceted. Imagine a student whose doctoral work has stalled. He might try to invigorate himself by remembering his sense of call. He might recall that he wanted to add to human knowledge and serve humanity through his research. If these noble motivations fail, he could try guilt. He could calculate the resources he consumed, the people he would disappoint. He might even call himself a thief for wasting time and resources if he doesn’t complete his degree. He could revive himself with anger, even revenge: “My allies failed me, and my foes thwarted me, but I’ll show them!” But these are not the best motives.

At the moment, Western culture vilifies shame, but according to Scripture, we should be ashamed of sin. Jeremiah lamented that Israel refused “to be ashamed” of her infidelity (Jer. 3:3). According to Zephaniah, injustice is shameful (Zeph. 3:5). And Paul shamed disciples in Corinth for dragging each other into Roman courts. Surely they could resolve their disagreements without airing them before pagans (1 Cor. 6:5–8)! Can we agree that it would help if scammers were ashamed of their schemes to defraud the weak? Yes, shame is often misguided. We should not feel ashamed if our hair looks bad or if we wear the wrong clothes to a party. But a sense that sin is repulsive can move us to seek virtue.

Guilt, shame, vanity, and revenge might prompt change for a while, but we want (1) motives that endure and (2) motives that please God. Atheists cannot access every motive. For example, atheists cannot readily break with greed. They think they must care for themselves, so a wealth-as-source-of-safety mindset always tempts them. Gluttony and lust are similar. If there is no God, people inevitably live to eat, drink, be merry. Unbelief also fuels pride. Unbelievers don’t think God created them with intrinsic worth, so they have to create their own identity, and that fosters pride.2

The Means to Virtue—Secular Views

That said, there are brilliant secular ethicists who both contemplate virtue and pursue it as individuals and for their societies. Aristotle proposed that good practices or habits are the path to virtue: “Neither by nature, then, nor contrary to nature do the virtues arise in us. . . . [They] are made perfect by habit.” Just as “men become builders by building,” so, too, they “become just by doing just acts, temperate by doing temperate acts.”3Aristotle might say that we overcome sloth by setting an alarm, getting up, and going to work daily until a habit of diligence develops. Likewise, we defeat greed by giving to others regularly and generously. Aristotle is right—good habits are beneficial. But it’s hard to break old habits that offer great pleasure. Besides, improved habits don’t always stick. People return to vices such as gambling even if they hate them.

Immanuel Kant noted that virtue starts with a desire to fulfill one’s duties. In a good “ethical commonwealth,” we exercise our freedom in ways that protect the freedom of others.4 But above all, Kant proposed a universal law that fueled every duty: “Act as if the maxim of your action were to become through your will a universal law of nature.”5 This law makes it everyone’s duty to respect property, tell the truth, and refrain from murder, for society would collapse if everyone stole, lied, and murdered. Who would toil and save if theft were rampant? And who could live in society if anyone could kill?

Kant and Aristotle both made good points. It is wise to fulfill our duties, and good habits are helpful. Habits may be especially helpful for vices of addiction. If gluttony leads to alcohol abuse, we should ask friends to support our new habits. Still, it’s difficult to break with ingrained vices. Not many people can say, “I’m going to start doing the right thing” and simply do it. We need assistance. We call that assistance the means of grace. The means of grace have two aspects: (1) the God- given sources of strength and (2) the disciplines of grace.

Pride. Greed. Anger. Envy. Sloth. Gluttony. Lust. These sins have endured since the beginning, but they do not need to endure in a believer’s life. This book explores their counterpoint virtues—showing how we can drive out vice with Christlikeness as we learn to increasingly desire, discern, and practice what is good.

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The Sources of Grace That Foster Virtue

The chief source of virtue is the Spirit’s gift of regeneration, repentance, and faith. The Spirit indwelt Jesus and equipped him for ministry. Luke tells us that the Spirit begets Jesus, baptizes him, enters him, leads him to the wilderness to be tested, sends him with power into Galilee, and comes upon him when he preaches (Luke 1:35; 3:16, 22; 4:1, 14, 18). If the Spirit empowers Jesus, how much more do we need his strength.

By the Spirit, we become healthy trees that bear good fruit (Matt. 7:17). The Lord saves us by grace and alsoprepares us for good works (Eph. 2:10). Romans 6 states that we died and rose with Christ. As a result, we have “died to sin” and now “walk in newness of life.” We are “no longer . . . enslaved to sin,” and therefore sin no longer reigns in us. Our union with Christ changes everything, and Paul can command, “Present yourselves . . . as instruments [or “weapons”] for righteousness” (Rom. 6:2–13).6 We still sin, but it is aberrant behavior. We might not love our neighbors perfectly, but we do love them, and we typically act like it, even if we fail at times.

Romans teaches that while no one is saved by works, neither is anyone saved without works. Works are not necessary before salvation, but they are necessary afterward. To use an analogy, a baby receives life from her parents. She does not gain life by breathing beforehand, yet she will not stay alive without breathing afterward. Breathing is necessary for life even if it doesn’t cause life. Similarly, growth in obedience and virtue is essential to the believer’s life, even though they do not give us life.7 If we are alive to God, it must show. The Lord does empower believers to lead a morally beautiful life (1 Tim. 2:9–10; Titus 2:10; 1 Peter 3:5).

In some circles, believers hesitate to act as if they have moral confidence. They emphasize their struggles and brokenness, and the difficulty of overcoming sin. This is commendable in several ways. First, a false accent on the victories of believers presents an impossible ideal that leaves people feeling defeated. Second, raw optimism can silence people who fear that their struggles are shameful aberrations. Third, Scripture encourages realism. Psalms 32, 38, and 51 feature extended pleas for forgiveness of sin. Biblical history confirms the need for realism whenever it recounts the sins of heroes of the faith from Abraham to Paul. Discipleship is arduous.

Still, the emphasis on struggle misses essential biblical teaching. God expects his people to be holy, and he says so: “Be holy, for I am holy” (Lev. 11:44–45; 19:2; see also 1 Peter 1:15). The psalmists took this seriously so that they could say, “Judge me, O Lord, according to my righteousness” (Ps. 7:8; see also 15:1–6). They expected God to hear the cry of the righteous and deliver them (34:15, 17). They even asked God to reward them according to their work (62:12). In Psalm 32, David confesses his sin (32:1–5), but he also comments that those who trust the Lord are fundamentally “upright in heart” (vv. 10–11).

In other words, the believer’s life features movement from sin to godliness. We can and should “cast off the works of darkness” (Rom. 13:12) and “put off [the] old self” with its “deceitful desires” (Eph. 4:22). Take Paul’s surprising comment on Abraham, “No unbelief made him waver concerning the promise of God, but he grew strong in his faith” (Rom. 4:20). We think: “Abraham did waver! He took Hagar as a concubine in order to father a child on his terms.” Paul knew this, but he looked at the arc of Abraham’s life in declaring that “he grew strong in his faith.” That is the norm — growth in obedience and in virtue. As Hebrews 11 and 12 make clear, a cloud of witnesses testifies that we can run the race of life with endurance, to the end, because Jesus is “the founder and perfecter of our faith” (Heb. 12:1–2).

Taking our sin, the work of Jesus, and the presence of the Spirit together, we should have a mood of sober optimism or guarded confidence. For years, Western culture promoted a culture of victimhood, and that produced a bias against progress in Christian circles. If we privilege victims, people become reluctant to “admit” that they are happy, to say that they enjoyed a strong family or education, or to profess that they are improving morally.

Test yourself for a bias against growth by assessing this: “Since the day I shouted at that basketball referee, I never yelled at an official again. A decade later, I also stopped shouting at opponents.” Does this sound unlikely? Braggadocious? If so, you may be biased against growth. It should seem believable, even normal, since God both expects and empowers us to grow in grace through our union with Christ (Eph. 4:11–15; 2 Peter 3:18).

Growth in virtue is a spontaneous result of a new heart and new affections, but it is not entirely spontaneous. From the beginning, the church has promoted what it calls ordinary means of grace. A believer’s growth can be sudden, even mystical. People say, “I woke up one day, and the desire to drink [or curse] was gone.” And it happens. Yet the Lord also grants us ordinary, gradual means of growth. The church is a family, an organism, and an institution. As a family, we resemble each other morally, especially as we spend time together. As an organism, we grow together. Proverbs 13:20 exhorts us, “Whoever walks with the wise becomes wise, but the companion of fools will suffer harm.” As an institution, the church creates structures that make it easier to grow into maturity together. We call these structures the means or disciplines of grace. The phrase means of graceseems like an oxymoron; if grace is unmerited favor, how can there be regular means to receive grace? But there is no contradiction. God’s grace is not strictly predictable, and yet there are common pathways for growth.

In general, Reformed churches accent the supernatural, gospel-driven source of grace. By contrast, the holiness tradition, which has roots in the early church and in the heirs of John Wesley, is more likely to explore the disciplines of grace.

Footnotes

  1. Charles Taylor, Sources of the Self: The Making of the Modern Identity (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1989), 516, 518.
  2. Hit Man, a bizarre but successful film, lets its leading man spell out its lesson in the final moment: “Seize the identity you want.”
  3. Aristotle, “Nicomachean Ethics,” in The Basic Works of Aristotle, trans. W. D. Ross (New York: Random House, 1941), 953 (2.1).
  4. Immanuel Kant, Religion within the Limits of Reason Alone, trans. Theodore Meyer Greene and Hoyt H. Hudson (New York: Harper & Row, 1960), 88–90.
  5. Immanuel Kant, Groundwork of the Metaphysic of Morals, trans. H. J. Paton, 3rd ed. (New York: Harper & Row, 1956), 89 (chap. 2, para. 52).
  6. The Greek term for “instruments” is hopla, which normally means “weapons.” Thus, we should think of ourselves as sharp weapons in God’s arsenal.
  7. Dane C. Ortlund, Edwards on the Christian Life: Alive to the Beauty of God (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2014), 139–40.

Your New Clothes this Easter

Posted on by P&R Staff

As a kid, the most important thing about Easter was that I was getting a new suit, shirt, and shoes.

There were only two times a year where I was virtually guaranteed to receive new clothes—the start of the school year and Easter. We understand the start of the school year; it marked the start of a new year, new grade, and perhaps even a new school. But why new clothes at Easter?

Easter points us to renewal and new life. The resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ is the revelation of new life in God. Christ was raised unto new life and all those in Him are now raised and granted new life—better life, eternal life in Him. The resurrection of Jesus gave us the fulfillment of God’s promise to do “a new thing” (Isa. 43:19) and the first fruits of His promise to “make all things new” (2 Cor. 5:17).

When Christ rose from the dead, he brought to us new life, new hope, new songs, new joys, and a new way. So, put on your new clothes this Easter, and let them be a reminder to you that in Christ you are a part of a new creation—the old is gone, the new has come.

—Anthony J. Carter, author, Dying to Speak

Jesus’s last words reveal who he is: the Son of God, Messiah, Shepherd of our souls, Savior of the world. They also tell us what we are to be because of him: forgiven, saved, loved, reconciled, refreshed, complete, and satisfied. With pastoral care, Anthony Carter and Lee Fowler remind us of the implications of Christ’s words for our lives today.

Hardcover | 88 Pages | 978-1-62995-878-1 | List: $15.99

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Good Friday: Hope in the Tension

Posted on by P&R Staff

Good Friday, a day when the church is called to remember the greatest sin ever committed: the murder of Jesus Christ.  

Honestly, the injustice of the crucifixion makes me uncomfortable. Sure, I know that the events of Good Friday are part of the story, but honestly, I’d rather just get to Easter Sunday celebrations without acknowledging the utter depravity this day commemorates. I want to dress up in spring colors and plan lovely family get-togethers. This gloom isn’t really necessary, is it?  

Yes, it is. 

Why? Good Friday presents us with deeply difficult tension. On that day, humanity committed the greatest sin—and God offered the greatest act of love. Good Friday reminds us that we humans love our god-playing. We abuse our authority, while Jesus used his authority to lay his life down (John 10:18). We try to preserve the status quo, while Jesus disrupts our petty plans. On our own, we pursue our own ways, even if it means destroying the One who is perfectly good and loving. 

God used a terrible sin to bring about salvation from our sin. We will see that salvation fully realized in the new heavens and the new earth, when we are finally made holy. That day is coming, but it isn’t here yet. Today, let yourself experience the discomfort this day brings—even as its tension reveals our true hope. 

—Elyse Fitzpatrick, author, The Afternoon of Life

With humor, transparency, and biblical wisdom, Elyse Fitzpatrick shows that God uses the challenges of middle age—often the most difficult time in a woman’s life—to glorify himself and sanctify us. Drawing on Scripture and the stories of friends, she shows that when we cling to him as the source of our joy, peace, and blessing, we can laugh at the days to come.

Paperback | 200 Pages | 978-1-62995-921-4 | List: $18.99

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Hope in the Face of Death

Posted on by P&R Staff

“Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” (1 Corinthians 15:54-55).

What we believe about the resurrection shapes how we live today. If Christ did not rise, our faith is in vain. But he did rise—seen by Mary Magdalene, by Thomas who touched His scars, by disciples huddled in fear, and by many others. Because he lives, we live with hope!

This hope changes everything—including how we prepare for glory. We fix our eyes not on what is seen but on what is eternal (2 Cor. 4:18). We loosen our grip on earthly treasures, knowing we have an inheritance that will never fade (1 Pet. 1:4). We endure suffering with patience, for our momentary afflictions are preparing for us an eternal weight of glory (2 Cor. 4:17). We forgive freely, love deeply, and serve faithfully because our citizenship is in heaven (Phil. 3:20).

Christ’s resurrection is our guarantee: when we die, we will be with him. And when he returns, we will receive new, immortal bodies fit for eternity. We live today in hope, certain of our forever home.

How are you preparing for glory today?

—Elizabeth Turnage, author, Preparing for Glory

You don’t have to be dying to have questions about death, the afterlife, legacy planning, and more. Life and legacy coach Elizabeth Turnage presents bite-size biblical answers on theological and practical issues, accompanied by beautiful hymns, prayers, reflection questions, and additional resources. Rediscover hope as you meditate on the glory that lies ahead.

Paperback | 184 Pages | 979-8-88779-012-1 | List: $16.99

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