CHAPTER TWO: The Knowledge of Man and Free Will (part 4 of 4)
As for the last statement, “Turn to me, and I will turn to you,” it does nothing to confirm their error. For by God’s turning we must not understand the grace by which he renews our hearts to holiness of life, but that by which he testifies his goodwill and love toward us by causing us to prosper—just as he is said to withdraw from us when he afflicts us.
Because the people of Israel, after having long endured misery and calamity, complained that God had turned away from them, he answered that his kindness would not fail them if they returned to uprightness of life and to him, who is the rule of all righteousness.
It is therefore a corruption of this passage to interpret it as though it divided the effectual power of our conversion between God and ourselves. We have treated this question briefly because it will have to be discussed again in the treatment of the Law.
The second class of their arguments does not differ greatly from the first. They allege the promises in which God appears to make a covenant with our will, such as the following:
“Seek righteousness and not wickedness, and you shall live.”
—Amos 5
Again:
“If you are willing to obey me, I will give you an abundance of good things. But if you refuse, I will cause you to perish by the sword.”
—Isaiah 1
Again:
“If you remove the abominations from before my face, you shall not be driven away.”
Again:
“If you obey the voice of the Lord your God, observing and performing all his commandments, he will make you the most excellent people upon the earth.”
And there are other similar passages. They therefore suppose that God would be mocking us by making these things depend upon our will if they were not entirely within our power.
Indeed, from a human perspective, this argument appears very plausible. For it might be argued that God would be cruel to suggest that nothing prevents us from enjoying his favor and receiving every good thing from him, while in fact we possess no power to do so. It might also appear ridiculous for him to offer his blessings in such a manner that we could never enjoy them. In short, one might claim that God’s promises possess no certainty if their fulfillment depends upon an impossibility.
We shall speak elsewhere of those promises to which an impossible condition is attached, and it will then appear that, although their fulfillment is impossible for us, there is nevertheless no absurdity in them.
As for the present question, I deny that the Lord is cruel or inhumane toward us when he exhorts us to obtain his graces and blessings, although he knows that we are powerless to do so. For since these promises are offered both to believers and to the wicked, they serve a useful purpose for each.
Through his commandments the Lord pricks and awakens the consciences of the wicked, so that they may not carelessly flatter themselves in their sins, disregarding his judgment. In the same way, through his promises he makes them witnesses against themselves, showing how unworthy they are of his kindness. Who will deny that it is fitting for God to bless those who honor him and severely punish those who despise his majesty?
The Lord therefore acts justly when he presents this condition to the wicked, who are held captive under the yoke of sin: that if they turn away from their evil way of life, he will bestow every good thing upon them. Even if there were no other reason, this alone would suffice—that they might understand that they are justly excluded from the blessings belonging to God’s servants.
On the other hand, since God intends by every means to stir up his faithful people to implore his grace, it should not seem strange that he does through his promises what, as we have recently shown, he also does through his commandments.
When he teaches us his will through his commandments, he warns us of our misery by showing how greatly we resist that will. At the same time, he urges us to call upon his Spirit so that we may be directed in the right way. But because our sluggishness is not sufficiently aroused by the commandments, he adds his promises, by whose sweetness he leads us to love what he commands. And the more we love righteousness, the more fervently we seek the grace of God.
Thus, in the declarations we have cited, God does not attribute to us the ability to perform what he commands. Yet neither does he mock our weakness, since by these means he both promotes the good of his servants and renders the wicked inexcusable.
The third class of arguments has some affinity with those preceding it. For they produce passages in which God reproaches the people of Israel, declaring that it was owing to them alone that they did not remain in a prosperous condition. For example:
“The Amalekites and the Canaanites are before you, and you shall perish by their sword, because you were unwilling to obey the Lord.”
Again:
“Because I called you and you did not answer, I will destroy you as I destroyed Shiloh.”
Again:
“This people did not listen to the voice of their God or receive his instruction; therefore, they have been rejected.”
Again:
“Because you hardened your hearts and refused to obey the Lord, all these evils have come upon you.”
“How,” they ask, “could such reproaches properly be addressed to people who could immediately answer: ‘We desired nothing more than to prosper, and we feared calamity. The reason we did not obey the Lord or listen to his voice so that we might avoid evil and enjoy a better condition was that we were not free to do so, being held captive by sin. God therefore unjustly reproaches us for the evils we suffer, since it was not within our power to avoid them’?”
In reply, leaving aside this excuse of necessity, which is frivolous and of no force, I ask whether they can deny that they are at fault. For if they are convicted of wrongdoing, God does not say without cause that their perversity prevented him from preserving them in prosperity.
Let them answer, then, whether they can deny that their perverse will was the cause of their obstinacy. If they find the source of evil within themselves, why do they seek its cause elsewhere, attempting to persuade themselves that they are not the authors of their own ruin?
If it is true, therefore, that sinners through their own vice are deprived of God’s blessings and receive punishment from his hand, these reproaches are justly directed against them. If they persist in evil, they should learn to accuse their own iniquity as the cause of their misery rather than condemn God as excessively severe. But if they are not altogether hardened and are still capable of being taught, let them conceive sorrow and hatred for the sins by which they have made themselves miserable. In this way they may return to the right path and confess the truth of what God declares when he reproves them.
The prayer of Daniel shows that such reproofs have served this purpose among believers. As for the first use, we see an example in the Jews, to whom Jeremiah, at God’s command, declared the cause of their miseries, although nothing could occur except what God had foretold:
“You shall speak my word to them, but they will not listen; you shall call them, but they will not answer.”
“But what purpose is there,” someone will ask, “in speaking to the deaf?”
It is so that, despite themselves, they may understand that what is said to them is true: namely, that it is an abominable sacrilege to attribute to God the cause of their calamities when that cause resides within themselves.
By these three answers, anyone may easily dispose of the countless testimonies gathered by the enemies of God’s grace—from the commandments, the promises of the law, and the reproaches God directs against sinners—in their attempt to establish in man a free will that cannot be found there.
They nevertheless allege a testimony from the Law of Moses that appears strongly to contradict our answer. For after publishing the law, Moses made this declaration before the people:
“The commandment that I give you today is not hidden from you, nor is it far away or exalted above heaven; but it is near you, in your mouth and in your heart, that you may perform it.”
If this were spoken merely of the commandments, I confess that we would have great difficulty answering it. For although one might say that Moses is speaking of the ease with which the commandments may be understood, rather than performed, some uncertainty would still remain.
But we have an able interpreter who removes every doubt: Saint Paul, who affirms that Moses is speaking here of the doctrine of the gospel. If some obstinate person were to reply that Saint Paul diverted this passage from its natural meaning in order to apply it to the gospel—although such a wicked statement ought not to be tolerated—we nevertheless have sufficient grounds to defend the Apostle’s interpretation.
For if Moses were speaking only of the commandments, he would have deceived the people with a false confidence. What could they have done but ruin themselves if they had attempted to observe the law by their own power, as though it were easy? Where is this supposed ease to be found, since our nature fails at this very point, and no one attempts to walk without stumbling?
It is therefore perfectly certain that by these words Moses included the covenant of mercy, which he had proclaimed together with the law. Saint Paul, considering that salvation is offered to us in the gospel—not under the law’s harsh, difficult, and altogether impossible condition, but under a condition that is easy and accessible—applies this testimony to confirm how freely the mercy of God is offered to us. This passage therefore contributes nothing toward establishing freedom in the human will.
They commonly object certain other passages in which God is said sometimes to withdraw his grace from men in order to observe which way they will turn. For example, it is said in Hosea:
“I will withdraw and remain apart until they resolve in their hearts to follow me.”
—Hosea 5
“It would be ridiculous,” they say, “for the Lord to observe whether men will follow his way unless their hearts possessed the power to incline in either direction by their own strength.”
As though it were not customary for God to declare through his prophets that he will reject and abandon his people until they repent! But let us consider what they wish to infer from this. If they mean that a people abandoned by God can turn to him by their own power, all Scripture contradicts them. If they acknowledge that God’s grace is necessary for man’s conversion, these passages do nothing to support their argument against us.
They will say, however, that they acknowledge grace to be necessary in such a way that human power still contributes something. But how do they prove this? Certainly not from this passage or any similar one. For these are two entirely different things: to withdraw from a man in order to observe what he will do when abandoned, and to assist his weakness by strengthening his feeble powers.
But they will ask, “What, then, do such expressions mean?” I answer that they amount to this, as though God were saying:
“Since I accomplish nothing with this rebellious people by warnings, exhortations, or reproofs, I will withdraw for a time. I will remain silent and permit them to be afflicted. Then I shall see whether, after prolonged calamity, they will remember me and seek me.”
When God is said to withdraw, it means that he withdraws his word. When he is said to observe what men will do in his absence, it means that, without manifesting himself to them, he afflicts them for a time. He does both to humble us more deeply. For his chastisements and punishments would destroy us a hundred thousand times before they corrected us, unless he made us teachable by his Spirit.
It is therefore wrongly inferred that man possesses some power to turn to God merely because God, offended by our hardness and obstinacy, is said to withdraw from us his word, through which he communicates his presence, and to observe what we can do by ourselves. He does all this only to make us understand that of ourselves we are nothing and can do nothing.
They also draw an argument from a common manner of speaking used not only by men but by Scripture itself: good works are called ours, and we are said to do good just as we are said to do evil. If sins are rightly imputed to us as proceeding from us, they argue, then by the same reasoning good works must also be attributed to us. For it would be unreasonable to say that we perform those things to which God moves us like stones, since we cannot perform them by our own impulse. They therefore conclude that, although God’s grace possesses the principal power, such expressions nevertheless indicate that we possess some natural ability to do good.
If their only objection were that good works are called ours, I would answer that we also call our daily bread “ours,” although we ask God to give it to us. What, then, can be inferred from this word except that what was in no way owed to us becomes ours through God’s infinite kindness? They must therefore either find fault with our Lord for speaking in this manner, or cease regarding it as strange that good works should be called ours when everything we possess in them comes from God’s generosity.
Their second objection is somewhat stronger. Scripture frequently affirms that believers serve God, maintain his righteousness, obey his law, and devote themselves to doing good. Since these are the proper acts of the human understanding and will, how could they be attributed both to the Spirit of God and to us unless our power were in some way joined with God’s grace?
We shall easily disentangle ourselves from all these arguments if we properly consider the manner in which God works in his servants. First, the comparison by which they seek to burden us is inappropriate. Who is so unreasonable as to imagine that man is moved by God in the same way that we throw a stone? Certainly, nothing of the kind follows from our doctrine.
We say that man naturally possesses the faculties of approving and rejecting, willing and refusing, striving and resisting. Yet he uses them to approve vanity and reject the true good; to will evil and refuse good; to strive after sin and resist righteousness.
What, then, does the Lord do? If he chooses to employ man’s perversity as an instrument of his wrath, he turns and directs it wherever he pleases, so that through an evil hand he may accomplish his own righteous and good works. When, therefore, we see a wicked man serving God in this manner while seeking only to gratify his own wickedness, shall we compare him to a stone driven by some external force without any motion, perception, or will of its own? We plainly see how great the difference is.
But what shall we say of the righteous, who are chiefly under discussion here? When the Lord purposes to establish his reign within them, he restrains and governs their will so that it is not carried away by disordered desire, as its natural inclination would otherwise dictate. He then bends, forms, directs, and leads it according to the rule of his righteousness, causing it to desire holiness and innocence. Finally, by the power of his Spirit, he confirms and strengthens it so that it neither wavers nor falls away.
It is therefore evident that the grace of God is, as it were, the guidance and bridle of his Spirit by which the human will is directed and governed. Yet he cannot govern it without correcting, reforming, and renewing it.
For this reason we say that the beginning of our regeneration consists in the abolition of what is naturally ours. Likewise, God cannot correct the will without moving, urging, directing, and sustaining it. Therefore, we say that all the actions proceeding from it are entirely from him.
Yet we do not deny the absolute truth of Saint Augustine’s statement that our will is not destroyed by the grace of God but restored. These two statements agree perfectly: the human will is restored when, after its perversity has been corrected, it is directed according to the rule of righteousness; and in doing this, a new will is created in man, since his natural will is so corrupt and perverted that it must be entirely renewed.
Nothing now prevents us from saying that we perform the works which the Spirit of God performs in us, although we do not cooperate with his grace by any power of our own. The first reason is that God wills everything he performs in us to become ours, provided we understand that it does not originate from us. The second is that understanding, will, and endeavor belong to us by nature, and God directs them toward the good so that something good may proceed from them.
The other arguments they gather here and there will not greatly trouble persons of even moderate understanding, provided they have carefully remembered the answers given above. They cite what is written in Genesis:
“Your desire shall be under you, and you shall rule over it.” —Genesis 4
They interpret this as referring to sin, as though God were promising Cain that sin could not rule in his heart if he were willing to labor to overcome it.
We maintain, on the contrary, that these words should rather be understood of Abel. For in this passage God intends to rebuke the envy Cain had conceived against his brother. He does so for two reasons. The first is that Cain deceived himself by supposing that he could attain preeminence over his brother before God, who honors nothing but righteousness and integrity. The second is that Cain was exceedingly ungrateful for the blessing he had received from God, since he could not tolerate his brother, who was his inferior and subject to his authority.
Nevertheless, lest it appear that we choose this interpretation merely because the other is contrary to our doctrine, let us grant them that God is speaking of sin. If so, God either promises Cain that he shall prevail over it or commands him to do so. If he commands him, we have already shown that they can prove nothing from a commandment to establish free will. If it is a promise, where is its fulfillment, since Cain was overcome by the sin over which he was supposed to rule?
They may perhaps say that a tacit condition is contained in the promise, as though God had said, “If you fight, you shall obtain the victory.” But who could tolerate such evasions? For if the passage is interpreted as referring to sin, there can be no doubt that it is an exhortation from God. It does not show what man is able to do but what his duty is, even though he is unable to perform it.
They also appeal to the Apostle’s statement that salvation does not lie in the hands of him who wills or of him who runs, but in the mercy of God. From this they infer that the will and exertion of man contribute something, while the mercy of God supplies what remains.
But if they properly considered what the Apostle is discussing in this passage, they would not misuse his words so thoughtlessly. I know that they can cite Origen and Saint Jerome in defense of their interpretation. Yet we need not concern ourselves with what those men thought, provided we understand what Saint Paul intended to say: namely, that salvation is obtained only by the one upon whom God has mercy, while ruin and destruction await all whom he has not chosen.
He had shown the condition of the reprobate through the example of Pharaoh. He had proved the free election of believers through the testimony given to Moses:
“I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy.”
He therefore concludes that it does not depend upon him who wills or him who runs, but upon God who shows mercy.
If anyone argues from these words that man possesses some power of willing and acting, as though Saint Paul had merely said that human will and effort are insufficient by themselves, he argues both wrongly and foolishly.
We must therefore reject this subtlety, which has no sound basis. For what sense is there in arguing: “Salvation does not lie in the hands of him who wills or him who runs; therefore, there must be some willing and some running”? Saint Paul’s meaning is much simpler: no willing or running on our part leads us to salvation; God’s mercy alone reigns in this matter.
For he speaks here in precisely the same way as in another passage, where he says that the goodness of God and his love toward mankind appeared, not according to works of righteousness that we had performed, but according to his infinite mercy. If I were to argue from this that we had performed some good works merely because Saint Paul denies that we obtained God’s grace by works of righteousness we had done, they themselves would laugh at me. Yet their argument is of precisely the same kind. Let them therefore consider carefully what they are saying, and they will cease relying upon such frivolous reasoning.
They next produce the testimony of Ecclesiasticus, a book whose author is known not to possess unquestioned authority. Yet even if we did not reject it—as we would have every right to do—how could it assist their cause?
It says that after man was created, he was left to his own will, and that God gave him commandments which, if he observed them, would preserve him. It also says that life and death, good and evil, were set before man so that he might choose whichever he desired.
Let it be granted that at his creation man possessed the ability to choose life or death. But what if we answer that he has lost it? Certainly, I have no wish to contradict Solomon, who affirms that man was created upright in the beginning but devised many evil schemes for himself. Yet because man, by degenerating and turning away from God, ruined both himself and all his descendants, whatever is said concerning his original creation must not be applied to his present, corrupt nature.
Therefore, I answer both them and the author of Ecclesiasticus, whoever he may be, in this manner:
“If you intend to teach man to seek within himself the power to obtain salvation, your authority is not so great in my estimation that it can prevail against the Word of God, which plainly teaches the contrary. But if you intend only to restrain the blasphemies of the flesh—which seeks to excuse itself by transferring its faults to God— and therefore show that man received a good nature from God and became the author of his own ruin, I willingly agree with you, provided we also agree that man is now stripped of the gifts and graces he originally received from God.”
But our opponents have nothing more frequently upon their lips than Christ’s parable of the man whom robbers left half dead by the roadside. I am well aware that it is commonly taught that the calamity of the human race is represented in the person of this man. From this they draw the following argument: man was not so completely slain by sin and the devil that no portion of life remained in him, since he is said to have been left only half dead. “For where,” they ask, “would this half-life be found unless some measure of right understanding and will remained in him?”
First, what will they do if I refuse to admit their allegory? For there is no doubt that the ancient fathers devised it beyond the literal and natural meaning of the passage. Allegories ought to be received only insofar as they are founded upon Scripture; far less can they serve to establish any doctrine.
Moreover, we do not lack reasons by which to refute everything they say. The Word of God does not leave half a life in man but declares him altogether dead with respect to the blessed life. When Saint Paul speaks of our redemption, he does not say that we have been delivered from half-death, but that we have been raised from the dead. He does not call those who are half alive to receive the grace of Christ, but those who are dead and buried. This agrees with our Lord’s declaration that the hour has come when the dead shall rise at his voice. Would they not be ashamed to set some trifling allegory against so many clear testimonies?
Yet even if their allegory were valid, what could they conclude from it against us? They will say, “Man is half alive; therefore, some portion of life remains in him.” I readily acknowledge that his soul still possesses the capacity for understanding, although it cannot penetrate to the heavenly wisdom of God. He retains some judgment of good and evil and some awareness that there is a God, although he has no true knowledge of him.
But what does all this amount to? Certainly, it cannot make Saint Augustine’s statement any less true: that after man’s fall, the gracious gifts belonging to salvation were taken away from him, while the natural gifts that cannot lead him to salvation were corrupted and defiled.
Let this conclusion, therefore, remain firm and certain, since it cannot be shaken in any way: the human understanding is so completely alienated from the righteousness of God that it can imagine, conceive, and comprehend nothing but wickedness, iniquity, and corruption. Likewise, the human heart is so poisoned by sin that it can produce nothing but perversity. And if anything proceeds from it that bears some appearance of goodness, the understanding nevertheless remains enveloped in hypocrisy and vanity, and the heart remains devoted to every kind of evil.