Calvin’s Response to Pighius On Book Two [of Pighius]

At the start of his second book, Pighius tries to impress his audience with grand oratory, as if to win the applause of the crowd. He acts shocked that we would embrace what he calls a clearly false and blasphemous doctrine—one he claims is condemned by common sense and the consensus of all humanity.

However, Pighius’s approach is chaotic. Although he said he would address two separate issues, he immediately mixes them together. He raises the idea of “absolute necessity,” suggesting that if everything happens by necessity, then humans have no power to choose good or evil. Yet he planned to address God’s providence, the foundation of this “necessity,” in later parts of his work. Why, then, does he bring it up here?

Pighius claims his arguments are logical and orderly, but this mixing of topics appears to be deliberate. He knows that Luther’s teaching on necessity might seem strange to many, so he starts with this point to sway readers emotionally. He avoids discussing human corruption because he realizes that arguing against this doctrine would be less convincing to his audience. When his own arguments inevitably lead toward the topic of human sinfulness, he quickly sidesteps it.

Calvin’s Response to Pighius’s Seven Arguments

Since Pighius insists on arguing both issues—human choice and God’s providence—at once, I’ll address them together.

1. If everything is controlled by God, why make any effort?

Pighius questions why we work, plan, and take precautions if everything happens according to God’s will. But Scripture teaches that human effort and divine providence work together. Solomon reminds us that while we make plans, it is the Lord who directs our steps (Prov. 16). God has given us means to preserve our lives—work, care, and prudence—and has also warned that neglecting these leads to trouble. Wisdom and foolishness, both guided by God, still influence our outcomes.

2. If crimes are necessary under God’s providence, why punish them?

Pighius argues that punishing wrongdoers is pointless if they act by necessity. Yet, while God may use their actions to fulfill His purposes, this does not make them innocent. They act out of their own evil intent, even if God uses their deeds to bring about His justice. Just as a sword in a hand has no blame, the Holy Spirit compares wicked people to tools in God’s hand (Isa. 10). God’s purpose and human guilt coexist in His governance.

3. Does this doctrine undermine political authority and morality?

Pighius claims that if God controls all, then laws and government are meaningless. But we affirm that God established authority and laws as means to preserve society. God uses rulers and laws to maintain order, and their purpose aligns with His will. We are not like Stoics, who believe in a blind fate; rather, we believe in a personal God who directs events while also upholding the importance of human actions within His plan.

4. Does our doctrine make humans into “brute beasts”

and destroy true religion?

Pighius claims our doctrine strips humans of dignity and makes them like animals. However, we teach that humans cannot do any good apart from God, so they must rely entirely on Him. This dependence brings humility, trust in God, and gratitude, recognizing that anything good we do comes from Him alone. By knowing our sinful nature, we are reminded to take responsibility for our actions rather than blaming others. In this understanding, there is peace, knowing that all things happen by God’s will. This trust in God’s sovereignty is a foundation for true religion, humility, and faith.

5. Does this doctrine make God the author of evil?

Some argue that if God controls all things, then He must be responsible for sin. But we must humbly acknowledge that God’s ways are beyond human reasoning. Paul teaches us not to judge God’s hidden purposes. God may direct the wicked to accomplish His will, yet they act out of their own sinful desires, for which they are accountable. God’s wisdom uses even evil for His good purposes, demonstrating His justice and sovereignty.

6. Do we condemn human nature as entirely corrupt?

Pighius accuses us of condemning human nature. We affirm that human nature was created pure by God but became corrupted through sin. This corruption is not from God but from humanity’s own disobedience. Augustine explained it well: humans, as God made them, were good; as sinners, they are corrupted. In this way, we honor God as the creator of good while acknowledging humanity’s responsibility for sin.

7. Does this teaching make God’s commands

unreasonable?

Finally, Pighius claims that if we are unable to fulfill God’s commands, then requiring obedience is unjust. But we are responsible for our inability to follow God’s law, as sin has weakened us. The law’s role is not to grant righteousness but to show us our sin, revealing our need for God’s grace. When we recognize our shortcomings, we are emptied of pride and ready to receive God’s help, knowing that He provides the strength we lack.

Calvin’s Response to Pighius’s Comparison of Reformers to Heretics

Pighius tries to discredit Luther and us by associating our teachings with ancient heretics like Priscillian, Mani, Marcion, Cerdo, and even Simon Magus, claiming Luther is worse than all of them. This tactic might sound clever, but it’s actually baseless. Pighius’s audience likely consists of those who have no interest in examining our teachings honestly—they support anything that criticizes us without caring about its truth.

He’s not the first to make such accusations. The Pelagians once accused Augustine of similar heretical beliefs, connecting him unfairly to the Manichees. Yet, the truth always stands up against empty accusations.

As for Simon Magus, it’s absurd for Pighius to compare us to him. Ancient writers like Irenaeus and Augustine documented Simon’s bizarre teachings, which include denying God as creator, claiming to be divine, rejecting the resurrection, and promoting pagan myths. There is nothing in Simon’s teachings on free will, predestination, or the providence of God that resembles our doctrine.

Pighius bases his claims on a fictitious work, the Recognitions of Clement, an unreliable book falsely attributed to Clement of Rome. Even early church authorities recognized it as the invention of a monk. This forgery is filled with absurdities and lacks any apostolic spirit. Writers like Irenaeus and Tertullian, who debated heretics like Valentinus and Marcion, never relied on such a text to defend apostolic teaching. If they had access to an authentic record from Peter’s disciple, they would have used it. The fact that they didn’t suggests they knew this text was not genuine.

In short, Pighius’s attempt to link us to Simon Magus is unfounded. He resorts to invented sources and distorted history, hoping to stir up prejudice rather than engage in honest debate.

Pighius accuses us of sharing beliefs with various ancient heretics like Mani, Marcion, and even Simon Magus, intending to stir up fear and hatred against our teaching. Yet, this tactic is groundless. Pighius’s claims rely on false and absurd sources, such as the Recognitions of Clement, a work widely dismissed by early church authorities as a forgery. Even Eusebius, an early historian, doubted its authenticity, stating that the teaching in it did not reflect pure apostolic faith. If it had been genuine, respected figures like Irenaeus or Tertullian would have relied on it in their disputes with heretics, but they never did.

Moving to the heresies themselves, let’s examine them briefly. The teachings of these ancient heretics are vastly different from ours. For example:

Valentinus believed that the devil was born from one of thirty spiritual beings and that the world was made by evil beings. He attributed evil to the nature of the world itself, not to human choice.

Marcion and Mani created dualistic systems, proposing two gods: one good, one evil. They believed evil came from a separate, evil god, not from human sin.

The Priscillianists argued that human souls were made from divine substance and became polluted by a malevolent creator, attributing human corruption to creation rather than the fall.

In contrast, our teaching, even as Pighius begrudgingly admits, holds that God created Adam in His image, endowed with wisdom, righteousness, and free will. Adam’s fall was due to his own disobedience, not an inherent flaw in creation. We believe that human corruption came through Adam’s sin, which affected all his descendants. Human nature was created good and was only corrupted due to Adam’s misuse of his freedom.

Pighius’s own summary of our beliefs concedes that we attribute human fallenness to sin, not to God’s design or an evil origin. Therefore, our doctrine is entirely different from these ancient heresies, which attribute human corruption to creation itself rather than to human rebellion.

Pighius continues to compare our teachings to those of ancient heretics like Cerdo, Valentinus, and the Manichees, claiming we view humanity as inherently evil by creation. But our teaching is clear: humanity was created good and upright by God. Corruption entered only through humanity’s own rebellion. There is a vast difference between saying that corruption is a defect in human nature and saying it is part of our created substance. Augustine, when addressing similar false accusations, defended this view, teaching that sin is not part of our nature’s essence but a result of human choice.

Pighius goes further, claiming our doctrines are even more blasphemous than those of the Manichees. The Manichees invented two opposing divine forces to explain good and evil, but Pighius asserts that Luther and I attribute evil directly to God by describing the wicked as instruments in His hand. Yet, this idea of God’s sovereignty over even the wicked is not Luther’s invention but is rooted in Scripture. Isaiah, for example, compares the wicked to a saw moved by God to accomplish His purpose, as in God’s use of the Assyrian king, Sennacherib (Isaiah 10). Luther always explained that while God uses the actions of the wicked, the sin itself originates from their own hearts and is rightly attributed to them.

Pighius also finds it offensive that we describe human nature, even after redemption, as corrupted and inclined against God. Yet this is no radical claim—it is simply what Scripture teaches. God Himself says, “Every imagination of the heart of man is only evil from childhood” and “The heart is deceitful above all things” (Genesis 8:21; Jeremiah 17:9). Even Paul admitted that in his own flesh, there was nothing good and that his sinful nature constantly opposed God’s law. He speaks not only from humility but from real struggle, acknowledging that part of himself resists God’s Spirit.

Pighius is shocked by Luther’s description of human nature as a “wild beast” opposing the Spirit. But Augustine himself expressed similar views, saying that, apart from God’s righteousness, we are like Satan himself. Augustine warned that, left to ourselves, all we have is sin, and we are utterly dependent on God for any goodness.

Scripture or Tradition?

Pighius claims that he wouldn’t believe Scripture if it contradicted what he already believes about free will—even saying that if a passage supported Luther’s view, he’d consider it the work of the devil. Such arrogance blinds him to any truth beyond his own opinions, making meaningful dialogue impossible. Yet, I respond to him not for his sake, but for others who are genuinely seeking understanding.

Pighius argues that Scripture must support his view because the early church Fathers didn’t teach that human actions occur by “inevitable necessity.” He asserts that the Fathers believed in human freedom and did not blame God for evil. In response, I first note that we, like the Fathers, affirm divine providence over all things. They, too, taught that God is the sovereign guide who orders all events according to His will, without being subject to randomness or chance.

As for the law, Pighius claims we undermine it by saying that humans cannot fulfill it perfectly. But Scripture teaches that the law’s perfection is beyond our natural ability. No one has ever fully kept it, nor can they, because it demands absolute righteousness. God has chosen not to grant any human the perfection needed to meet the law’s standards fully. Paul himself argues that all who fail to keep the law are under a curse (Galatians 3:10). If it were possible for someone to fully keep it, this curse would not apply universally. Paul’s reasoning, which Pighius overlooks, is that everyone falls short of the law, making them all subject to its judgment.

In conclusion, Scripture clearly shows both God’s sovereign ordering of events and humanity’s inability to achieve righteousness on their own. To deny this is to ignore the very Word of God.

Pighius insists that the early church Fathers believed humans could keep God’s law, implying they thought this achievable through free will. However, even the Fathers, like Jerome and Augustine, attributed this ability to the power of God’s grace, not human strength. Augustine clearly taught that, while God commands obedience, human nature—corrupted by sin—cannot fulfill this command perfectly without divine aid.

The crux of our debate, however, lies in whether we find the foundation of faith in God’s Word or in church tradition. Pighius argues that we should rely on tradition to guide our faith, claiming that Scripture alone is not sufficient. But if faith is built upon human decrees rather than the eternal Word of God, it would rest on an unstable foundation, open to human error. True faith must stand on the unchanging truth of Scripture.

Pighius warns that heretics twist Scripture, just as Satan twisted God’s Word to tempt Christ. Therefore, he claims, we should avoid relying on Scripture alone and instead seek safety in church tradition. Yet, if Christ Himself repelled Satan by quoting Scripture, shouldn’t we follow His example? Jesus relied solely on God’s Word to confront deception, setting a pattern for us to do the same.

Pighius insists that Scripture is unreliable without the church’s interpretation, arguing that it can be twisted “like a waxen nose” to suit anyone’s whims. This view reduces God’s Word to mere clay in human hands. But if even the sayings of philosophers like Pythagoras and Epicurus are clearly understood by their followers, how can we believe that God’s extensive, clear, and holy Scriptures are so ambiguous? If God truly speaks to us through His Word, then it must provide certain, reliable truth to guide His people.

In summary, while tradition has value, only Scripture provides the sure and unchanging foundation for our faith.

God Himself speaks clearly through His Word, affirming that we don’t need to search for divine truth in obscure or distant places. In Deuteronomy, He says, "The word is near, in your mouth," urging us to embrace His Word with confidence. This was true even under the Old Testament law, which provided a “dawn” of revelation before the fullness of light in Christ. If God’s Word was reliable then, how much more so now with Christ revealed!

Isaiah echoes this by declaring, “I did not speak in secret,” meaning God’s words are not hidden or obscure. He assures us that those who seek Him will find Him, underscoring that His Word offers guidance we can trust. Pighius’s view, which casts doubt on Scripture’s clarity, flies in the face of these testimonies from God. Rather than a source of confusion, Scripture is a “safe harbor” that promises life to those who listen and trust it.

Pighius argues that Scripture alone is not sufficient; he claims we also need church tradition to fully understand God’s will. But God, through His prophets, consistently directed His people back to His law and testimony, not to human traditions. Isaiah instructs us, “To the law and the testimony!” and Malachi likewise points people back to the law to guide them until Christ comes. Peter, too, insists that we have a “more secure prophetic message,” which is like a lamp in a dark place, reliable until the “morning star” rises in our hearts. He warns that Scripture should not be twisted by private interpretation, emphasizing instead that the Holy Spirit, who inspired it, is its true interpreter.

David, in the Psalms, speaks from his own experience of faith when he says, “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.” He assures us that God’s Word provides guidance, understanding, and security for those who seek Him sincerely.

Pighius’s claim that Scripture is a “waxen nose,” easily shaped to mean anything, reveals his lack of true understanding and appreciation of God’s Word. By urging us to rely on church authority instead, he diverts us from the secure foundation God has provided in Scripture. True faith finds stability and guidance in God’s Word, which is always reliable and trustworthy.

To settle this matter, Pighius argues that Scripture is too easily twisted by heretics and is, therefore, uncertain and unclear. He insists we should rely instead on the church’s authority as a sure and trustworthy rule of faith.

But let him answer: what has changed since Paul said that “faith comes by hearing” the Word of God? Paul called Scripture the “spiritual sword” that overthrows Satan; surely it’s also effective against all heretics. If Scripture has the power to penetrate deeply, revealing even the thoughts of the heart, how can it be weak or unclear? Paul also declared, “All Scripture is inspired by God and useful for teaching, for rebuking, for correction, and training in righteousness,” so that believers may be complete. Are we now to believe the Holy Spirit overlooked the subtlety of heretics in misinterpreting Scripture? Should we doubt that God anticipated and prepared Scripture to withstand false interpretations?

If Pighius still insists Scripture is inadequate to counter heretics, he stands opposed to the truth. Paul, when debating with the Jews, relied only on Scripture (as recorded in Acts 17). And when there is much controversy, Scripture serves as the ultimate standard, a “touchstone” by which all doctrines are tested. The Holy Spirit praised the Bereans for checking Paul’s teaching against the Scriptures, confirming that God intended His Word to serve as a reliable standard for testing all doctrines.

Augustine puts it well: when faced with a complex issue without clear scriptural proof, human opinion must restrain itself, since it achieves nothing by speculating. Augustine himself said that everything necessary for salvation has clear support in Scripture. By this point in his life, after years of struggling against heresies, Augustine knew how powerful Scripture is both for teaching and for defending truth.

the church’s authority as the foundation of our faith. Ironically, he uses Scripture itself to argue this point, taking verses out of context to fit his argument. He quotes, “False prophets shall arise and shall lead many astray in my name,” and insists that this refers to misleading interpretations of Scripture. But even if we allow his interpretation, there are other ways people could deceive in Christ's name, so his conclusion is flawed.

Pighius also tries to assign an allegorical meaning to terms like “wilderness” and “inner rooms,” as if they mean new ideas foreign to the church. Yet in Luke’s gospel, Christ himself interprets this differently, explaining that God’s kingdom is a spiritual one, present within believers and not to be confined to earthly signs. When Christ speaks of his sudden return, “like lightning from the east to the west,” he emphasizes its unpredictability and majesty, not something hidden in “inner chambers.”

Pighius further claims that the phrase “where the body is, there the eagles will gather” refers to the unity of the church and its members. However, the Greek word here means “corpse.” Christ likely meant that just as eagles gather around a single corpse, so the elect will gather to him alone, not to a human institution. Christ himself, not human unity, is the true bond.

In the end, Pighius’s manipulation of Scripture to support his arguments serves only to weaken his own cause. Just as clouds may obscure the sun for a time, yet cannot extinguish its light, so too, the truth of God’s Word endures steadfastly, shining forth clearly enough to be faithfully understood without the strained and forced interpretations of men.

Pighius attempts to elevate the authority of church tradition by citing Paul’s strong warning in Galatians that anyone, even an angel, who teaches a different gospel should be accursed. Pighius argues that because Paul’s message was originally delivered orally, it supports the authority of tradition.

But consider how God has established his will through the ages. First, he gave his law to Israel, then expanded on it through the prophets. The prophets’ teachings weren’t new or different but clarified and deepened the law. Before Christ came, the Scriptures consisted of the law and the prophets, which the people of God held as authoritative. Jesus and the apostles continually referenced these writings as a reliable witness to God’s truth.

The apostles initially preached by word of mouth as Jesus instructed, but God eventually ensured that the essential teachings were written down to preserve them accurately for all generations. This written record protects against the human tendencies toward inconsistency, innovation, and drifting from God’s truth. God declares, “I am always the same, and I do not change.” This consistency is now captured in Scripture, providing a firm anchor to keep us close to God’s unchanging will.

The same process that occurred with the prophets also occurred with the apostles. While not all their sermons were written down word for word, their gospel was summarized in the Scriptures, giving us everything we need for faith and life. Hebrews tells us that God has spoken definitively in these “last days” through his Son. This final message through Jesus is recorded by the apostles, as John assures us that his writings grant eternal life to those who read and believe.

Paul commends his own teaching to distinguish it from false teachers who misused Christ’s name to distort the gospel. By referring to his message, Paul isn’t promoting a personal gospel but safeguarding the pure gospel that belongs to the whole church. This is the “catholic” (universal) gospel, set down in Scripture, preserved by God, and authoritative for all believers.

Pighius claims that early church fathers like Irenaeus, Tertullian, and Origen based their defense of doctrine on church tradition, not Scripture. However, a closer look reveals a different story.

Irenaeus, for instance, dealt with heretics who outright rejected both Scripture and the church’s consensus. These heretics claimed to possess a “higher wisdom” than the apostles and argued that even the church’s teachings were tainted. In response, Irenaeus emphasized that the teachings we need for salvation come only through the apostles, who first spoke the truth and later wrote it down to be the foundation of faith. He repeatedly affirmed that Scripture is where believers learn complete wisdom.

Tertullian similarly argued from tradition, but not because he distrusted Scripture. Instead, he saw that heretics twisted Scripture endlessly, so he pointed to the faith handed down from the apostles to help safeguard new believers from confusion. Though he advised not to engage in endless debates with heretics, fearing they only grew bolder and more obstinate, he frequently relied on Scripture to argue against their errors.

In sum, the early fathers did reference tradition to combat specific challenges, but they always affirmed that true doctrine was rooted in Scripture.

When the early church fathers defended the faith against heretics, they often relied on Scripture as their primary authority. For example, when Emperor Constantine convened the Council of Nicaea, he instructed the bishops to seek answers from Scripture. The church fathers did not object; they were ready to use the Bible to guide their discussion. Likewise, Augustine resisted setthng disputes solely on the writings of past church leaders, instead calling people back to the Scriptures, saying, "The books of God are open; let us listen to them."

This reliance on Scripture does not mean that the unity of the church in understanding faith isn’t valuable. Church consensus can confirm our beliefs, but it must not replace Scripture. The foundation of our faith rests on God's Word alone, and any consensus must align with Scripture. The faith we share with past saints is precious not because of human agreement alone, but because it is rooted in God’s unchanging truth, which has been tested and proven by Scripture.

Pighius argues that tradition should come first, with Scripture secondary. But this approach risks making Scripture bend to human opinions. By placing church tradition above Scripture, he would have us first consult human interpretations, then fit Scripture to match. If there’s a conflict between human tradition and God's Word, Pighius would resolve it by forcing Scripture into a subordinate position, effectively silencing it. True theology, however, should place Scripture as the highest authority, with all other teachings and traditions judged by its truth.

To avoid needless debate, I would like readers to know that it wouldn’t be hard for Pighius and me to find common ground on church tradition if he would use it in the right way. Let him base his arguments on the clear, lasting agreement of the saints and faithful teachers, and not on selective quotes pulled from here and there. He should use the Fathers’ writings honestly, aiming to prove the genuine teaching of the church rather than twisting their words to support today’s false ideas. Paul calls the church “the pillar and support of the truth” because God entrusted it with His Word. The true church upholds, preserves, and faithfully passes down this Word, untainted by error.

If Pighius tries to present scattered writings from Origen, Tertullian, or others as “church tradition,” claiming they represent apostolic teachings, I will not accept that without question. Even great thinkers can be mistaken in important matters of faith. So, individual statements must be measured by God’s Word to see if they truly align with apostolic truth. Without that standard, we would have to accept every idea they taught, including their known errors.

Pighius’s approach is even more problematic when he takes statements from the Fathers, which originally held good and clear meanings, and reinterprets them to defend views that the Fathers themselves would have rejected. In the days of Irenaeus and Tertullian, many still remembered the teachings of the apostles firsthand; it was natural for them to pass on what was clearly known and consistent with the gospel they had received directly. But even Origen, close to their time, included views in his essential teachings that would be condemned by Pighius’s own side.

Now, centuries later, after the church has faced so many trials and changes, it is unwise to try to label as “church tradition” every belief that has found its way in, often with no clear origin or author. Pighius may claim to quote only from early church leaders who defended true faith, but his purpose is to use their authority to make false doctrines seem valid—doctrines the Fathers would never have supported. I urge readers to look honestly at how our own time compares to those ancient days; then they will see how far from genuine tradition Pighius’s approach really is.

Pighius argues that all the church Fathers unanimously supported the idea of free choice, implying that we are heretics for dissenting from this tradition. He also accuses me of lying for claiming that, except for Augustine, early church writers were unclear or inconsistent on this issue.

To clarify, I have no problem with calling the will “free” if “free” means that our choices are made without external force or coercion. In that sense, I agree that we act according to our own inclination. But my concern is that people commonly assume that “free will” means humans have the inherent power to choose between good and evil entirely by themselves. This misunderstanding leads many to believe that they can choose good by their own strength—a dangerous error.

Moreover, Scripture itself doesn’t use the term “free will” in this way. Freedom and bondage are opposites; if the will is in bondage, it cannot also be truly free. Paul describes believers, even after receiving God’s Spirit, as still struggling with the “chains of sin” where sin is always at work in the flesh. He says that before regeneration, people are “sold under sin”—entirely captive to it. If those regenerated by the Spirit experience only partial freedom, how much more are unregenerate people wholly in bondage to sin?

Thus, I argue that when people insist on calling our will “free,” they are speaking differently than how the Holy Spirit speaks through Scripture.

If scholars agree on the meaning of “free will,” I will not argue over the use of the term, provided its true nature is clarified. But since Pighius often confuses “necessity” and “coercion”—two very different concepts—I want to make these distinctions clear:

1. Free Will – People usually think of a free will as one that can

choose either good or evil. Pighius defines it this way too.

2. Coerced Will – A coerced will is one that’s forced by an

external power to act in a particular way, without any personal choice. True will and coercion are incompatible.

3. Self-Determined Will – This means the will directs itself,

choosing its path willingly, not under force or against its desire.

4. Bound Will – This refers to a will corrupted by sin, which

freely chooses only evil because it is held captive by sinful desires. It still chooses on its own, but it cannot seek good.

Based on these definitions, we can say:

People have choice, and they choose freely in the sense that they are not forced by any external power. Thus, if they choose evil, it is because they willingly desire it.

We reject coercion in the will, as it contradicts its nature.

However, we deny that human choice is genuinely free in the fullest sense, as the will is bound by sin and therefore necessarily inclined toward evil. This bondage to sin brings a necessity to act wickedly, yet it is a voluntary bondage, as people act according to their corrupted desires, not by external compulsion.

In short, while the will is self-directed and not coerced, it is “bound” by its sinful nature and, therefore, can only act within that corrupted state. This distinction between necessity and coercion clarifies that sinful actions stem from a voluntary, yet deeply enslaved, will.

Pighius attempts to prove that the early church Fathers universally support the idea of free choice. However, he misinterprets their teachings, as they often speak about human will in its original, uncorrupted state as created by God, rather than its fallen, sinful condition after the fall. Let’s consider the key Fathers Pighius cites:

1. Origen – Origen says that humans are not forced into good or

evil, which simply means that humans act according to their will, not under compulsion. This aligns with our view that, while people act willingly, their will is now corrupted by sin. However, Origen doesn’t clearly explain the extent of human freedom after the fall into sin. When Origen talks about free choice, he mainly addresses humanity’s original condition, not our fallen state, which is crucial to the discussion.

2. Clement – Pighius uses Clement’s works to bolster his

argument, but those writings are unreliable, as they often represent a mix of opinions not necessarily reflective of the true faith. In any case, they don’t offer any substantial argument against our understanding of the will’s bondage in sin.

3. Tertullian – Tertullian, often quoted by Pighius, is speaking

against Marcion, a heretic who claimed that human evil originated with God. In defending the goodness of God’s creation, Tertullian argues that humanity was originally created good and with free will. His defense is aimed at affirming the goodness of human nature at creation, not denying the corruption of the will that came with sin. Tertullian’s arguments do not apply to humanity’s current, fallen state.

4. Irenaeus – Irenaeus argues against heretics who claimed that

humanity’s evil required the existence of an evil god. He defends that humanity was created good, with the capacity for both good and evil, emphasizing that this capacity existed before the fall. Irenaeus explains that while man was created rational and in control of himself, he fell and became like a beast, enslaved to earthly desires. This aligns with our teaching that humanity’s original freedom was lost through Adam’s sin and must now be renewed by the Holy Spirit.

In sum, the early Fathers did affirm free choice—but they did so in the context of humanity’s original, unfallen state. After the fall, the will is no longer free in the same sense; it is bound by sin. This distinction is crucial, and it aligns with our belief that while humans act willingly, they are enslaved by sinful desires unless renewed by God’s Spirit.

I present Pighius with two choices regarding Irenaeus’s writings on human nature. Either Irenaeus was unaware of the inherited corruption passed down from Adam, or he simply chose not to address it because it was irrelevant to his argument against heretics like Cerdo and Valentinus. If Irenaeus was speaking only of human nature as it existed before the fall, then this does not challenge my position, for I regard humanity’s bondage to sin as the tragic result of the fall, not as part of humanity’s original nature. But if, indeed, Irenaeus were teaching that humanity’s nature remained unspoiled, he would find himself at odds with the universal understanding of the church regarding our sinful condition.

As for Cyprian, Pighius appeals to Augustine, who claims that Cyprian does not deny free choice. Yet I clarify that Cyprian, far from attributing goodness or uprightness to human capacity, attributes it entirely to God. According to Cyprian, any righteousness found in a person’s life flows wholly from the grace of God, not from any independent power within the human will. Cyprian did not believe humans could choose righteousness on their own; rather, left to themselves, people would inevitably fall into sin and come under Satan’s dominion. Cyprian’s teaching places the entirety of righteous living in the hands of God, not in human effort. For Cyprian, even the ability to resist temptation depends solely on humble reliance upon God’s grace, not on any supposed human strength or freedom.

Both Irenaeus and Cyprian support the view that humans, in their fallen state, are utterly dependent on God’s grace for any good, and that apart from this grace, human choice is bound by sin.

I approach Hilary's writings and find that in his first passage he speaks of human nature without any mention of its corruption. I have two responses to this: either Hilary did not intend to deny the sinful corruption inherited from Adam, or, if he did deny it, he stands in opposition to the clear and settled teaching of the church. His aim here seems only to call men back to their origins, that they might see their sins as stemming from their own wills, without placing blame on God. This intention, however, lacks any discussion of the ruinous effects of the fall or the necessary restoration by God’s grace. Let Hilary defend his strategy as he may—I am content to show that his words do not oppose us as Pighius claims.

When Hilary sets human choice against necessity, he speaks of necessity not as the miserable condition in which man finds himself because of sin, but rather as an external force compelling a person. This is a crucial distinction. In another passage, Hilary acknowledges that apart from God's grace, human effort can achieve nothing. He rightly notes that throughout life, God grants us the space to seek and thank Him—a time that ends with death.

In a third passage, however, Hilary divides the credit for good works between God and man, assigning to man the turning of his heart to obey God’s law. This he does, not because he denies God’s sovereignty in sanctification, but because he wishes to silence those who would excuse themselves by appealing to the weakness of their flesh. In attempting to close any door to idleness, he goes so far as to claim that God’s grace works in us in such a way that we must still add something ourselves. Hilary claims that if one falls, it is entirely due to his own idleness and neglect.

I anticipated this very argument in my Institutes, noting that the early fathers sometimes over-emphasized human ability for two reasons: first, to avoid derision from philosophers who saw any doctrine of human impotence as absurd; second, to prevent their teachings from being used as an excuse for laziness. Thus, the fathers sought to balance Scripture with prevailing philosophies to gain a hearing, while also urging men to seek God earnestly rather than relax in self-pity over their sinful nature.

Pighius attacks me as if I had misrepresented the fathers, but I openly admitted that some of them, including Hilary, attributed a degree of power to human free will. I did not deny this; rather, I cautioned readers that the early fathers were often obscure, inconsistent, or too eager to compromise. Therefore, their views on free will cannot provide any certain or consistent foundation for doctrine. Let it be seen that the fathers’ writings, while useful, must be read carefully, with the understanding that their full clarity on human will and divine grace was sometimes clouded by the philosophies of their day.

In the first passage from Basil that Pighius cites, Basil describes human nature as it was originally created by God, emphasizing that sin was not part of humanity’s original substance but entered through human choice. This was to prevent people from blaming God for their sins—a point with which we fully agree. Basil then says, “Virtue is voluntary, not forced, and free choice is within us.” Pighius takes this as proof of his argument, but I say these words reflect humanity’s state at creation, not our present fallen condition. Basil is describing the original nature of man, free from corruption; he does not address the damage sin later inflicted on that nature. When Basil does speak on the origin of evil, he simply states that it comes from the will, not from any necessity imposed by God.

Does this mean Basil overlooked the devastation sin brought upon human nature? Not at all. In another place, he clearly recognizes humanity’s fallen state: “Salvation is needed by the weak and deliverance by those held captive.” Here, Basil portrays humanity as helpless and enslaved, needing rescue that can only come from God. This acknowledgment of weakness and bondage shows how far humanity’s condition has declined from its original state of freedom.

Pighius responds by claiming that even in this state of bondage, Basil still leaves room for free choice. But let us examine what Basil actually says. Basil warns that those who lack knowledge of God wrongly believe they can resist sin through their own will, when true deliverance comes only through the power of the cross. Basil explains that free choice in humanity only allows one to make the judgment to resist evil, but it has no real power on its own to overcome sinful passions. Without the intervention of a greater power—that is, God’s saving help—all human effort is futile.

Thus, while Basil does speak of free choice, he limits its effectiveness in our fallen state, emphasizing that we lack the strength to resist sin without divine aid. Although he does not fully describe the bondage of human will here, it is evident that he acknowledges the severe limitations of free choice after the fall, highlighting our need for God’s redeeming power.

In the second passage Pighius references, I find nothing that contradicts our beliefs. Here, Basil simply teaches that the rational part of the soul is under our control. But he’s talking about the soul in its pure, original state. When defining the soul ourselves, we start by explaining its parts: the mind and the will. We teach that the mind is meant to lead the will and give it direction, just as the will should be attentive to reason. When everything functions correctly, reason guides the will in the right path and holds the bodily desires in check, like a charioteer managing wild horses. However, we also show that, due to sin, our reason is spiritually blind and unable to rule rightly unless it submits fully to God’s Spirit.

We also affirm that, as a result of sin, the desires of the flesh have taken over in humans, exerting a kind of tyrannical control that the soul cannot resist on its own. The will is so deeply corrupted and filled with evil that it can’t pursue anything good or devote itself to righteousness without God’s intervention.

Regarding the passages Pighius cites from Jerome, I agree that Jerome speaks of free choice. Jerome acknowledges that we are endowed with choice and live not under compulsion, but by our own consent. But even if Jerome emphasizes free choice, it does not give us a complete picture. I would argue (and this is true) that human freedom was wounded and practically extinguished when we fell into sin and came under Satan’s power.

If Jerome doesn’t explain how free choice was damaged by Adam’s fall, what the faithful recover through God’s grace, or how corrupt and opposed to God’s righteousness our nature is—then we are left without the full story. Jerome is silent on these crucial matters: the extent of sin’s impact on the will, the renewal of choice by the Spirit, and the Spirit’s role in enlightening the mind and directing the heart. Without addressing these aspects, his teachings on free choice remain incomplete.

Pighius should have thought twice before using Ambrose’s words to argue for free choice, or he should have used Ambrose’s own words in a more fitting context. What does Ambrose actually say? "The devil buys only those who voluntarily submit as his slaves; he holds no one in the yoke of slavery unless that person first sells himself through sin. Why blame the weakness of the flesh? Desire is where the fault lies; the flesh merely follows the will. So, let us not willingly sell ourselves, for it is only by our will that we fall into slavery."

Ambrose’s point is clear: he is addressing people who try to excuse their sins by blaming their “weak flesh.” But when Ambrose refers to “flesh,” he’s really talking about the bodily desires that serve the will, not a separate force controlling us. If someone shifts blame for their wrong actions onto the flesh, it is only right to remind them that the root of evil lies in their own will, not in some external weakness.

If Pighius thinks he can use this statement to prove the actual power of free choice, he is reaching far beyond what Ambrose meant.

Now, Pighius argues that anything we call “voluntary” must be entirely within our control, not subject to any form of necessity. But Ambrose himself shows a different understanding on this very topic. On the same page Pighius quotes, Ambrose reflects on the purpose of the law, saying, “The law brought chains, not freedom; it revealed sins but did not forgive them. Yet this helped me—I began to see what I once denied.” He also says, “It benefits me that we are not justified by the works of the law, for I have nothing to boast about in my own works, so I will boast only in Christ.”

These words of Ambrose point to the reality that, left to ourselves, we are under the necessity to sin. This necessity is not coercion but the state of our fallen nature, from which we cannot free ourselves without God’s intervention. If anything, Ambrose’s words confirm our need for God’s grace, showing that even our will is powerless to accomplish righteousness on its own.

Here, Augustine himself strengthens my case by offering three clear statements that reveal Ambrose's true views—views that are entirely different from what Pighius claims.

First, in Flight from the World, Ambrose urges us to seek God’s help, affirming plainly that our hearts and thoughts are not entirely within our control. Second, when commenting on the Gospel of Luke, he writes that our ability to recognize what is good is not simply a product of our own will; it is something granted by Christ. Christ not only shows us what is good but also shapes our hearts so that we desire what is good. Thus, if someone believes, it’s because God enabled that faith within them, as “the will is prepared by God.” Faith itself is a gracious gift of God, who receives all the glory for what his saints believe and do. Third, Ambrose affirms, “He whom God calls, he makes godly,” clearly stating that it is God who both calls and enables faithfulness in his people. From these words, Augustine rightly concludes that Ambrose assigns the start and continuation of faith, good works, thoughts, and desires entirely to God, leaving no credit to human effort. If anyone doubts this, they need only consult Augustine’s The Gift of Perseverance.

Pighius also brings up Chrysostom, but instead of offering his own insights, he simply repeats a passage I had previously quoted, in which Chrysostom insists that the choice between good and evil is within human power, leaving sinners without excuse—they do evil simply because they will to do so. Chrysostom’s view is that humanity must take responsibility for evil since it lies within our choice, preventing anyone from shifting blame away from their own will. I have often expressed agreement with this principle, and it is central in my Institutes. However, I also made it clear that Chrysostom, in his high view of free choice, does not convey the full truth, as he fails to acknowledge the corrupted condition of human will that the fall has left us with.

These Fathers, when read carefully, do not support Pighius's conclusions. Instead, they affirm what Scripture teaches: that we are wholly dependent on God’s grace, both to will and to do what is good.

Conclusion

After amassing all these references, as if they were proof beyond doubt, Pighius finally reaches his initial claim: that the belief in the bondage of human will, as we teach, is refuted by the consensus of all faithful Christians throughout history. He even claims that I am exposed as false for saying that the early church fathers were often unclear or inconsistent on this matter, to the point that no certain doctrine can be drawn from their writings. I ask readers to excuse me if, in answering Pighius, I don’t resort to the theatrical rhetoric he employs. I will respond plainly, with the straightforward truth, which has no need of dramatic language.

Firstly, regarding his appeal to the “consensus of the church,” I respond simply: the only true consensus of the church is that which aligns with God’s Word. Human opinions should not twist the meaning of what the Holy Spirit inspired in the Scriptures, which were given precisely so that we might test all doctrines—whether from men or even angels—against this unchanging foundation. So, whenever Pighius brings up the so-called consensus of the universal church, I will answer that we should not separate what God has united: that all true believers gather around the truth of Christ, like eagles gathering to a lifegiving source. If the faithful are united, it is in truth, not in mere human opinion.

Nor will I concede to Pighius the notion that a few writings reflect a fixed and universal consensus of the church. I don’t question the sincerity of the early church fathers, nor do I consider their testimony worthless. But it doesn’t offer the level of certainty that he suggests. It’s reasonable to think that, while these church fathers reflect common views in their time, they also express their own personal perspectives, shaped by their minds and sometimes by unclear language. Irenaeus, Tertullian, and Hilary sometimes speak in a harsh or rough style that obscures what they aim to convey. We know that how something is said can deeply impact how it’s understood.

I would further ask Pighius: Should we place more trust in a single individual as a voice of the church’s consensus than in many believers gathered in council, who speak together as the collective voice of the church? Now, let’s consider his examples.

Pighius quotes Hilary, who says, “Our will has a natural capacity to choose, but once it begins, God adds increase, and the merit of what is added belongs to that initial choice.” Yet, I present in contrast a ruling from the Council of Orange: “If anyone says that God waits for our will to desire cleansing from sin and denies that the Holy Spirit enables this desire in us, he opposes the Spirit.” Here, Hilary gives some credit to human will for initiating, with God’s grace merely aiding afterward, while the council condemns any view that denies God’s Spirit as the source of our will toward holiness.

Where, then, is Pighius’s “certain consensus” that he so eagerly asserts? He claims a united voice, yet even the church’s councils speak against such assumptions. True unity is found only where the church’s teachings align with the eternal truth of God’s Word.

In one passage, Hilary writes, “When we pray, we start, and then God gives.” Yet the Council of Orange declares, “If anyone says that God’s mercy comes to us because we first choose, ask, or try, and doesn’t acknowledge that it is God’s Spirit enabling us to believe, will, and ask as we should, he opposes the Scriptures, which say: ‘What do you have that you did not receive?’” Hilary suggests that faith starts within us, while the council insists it begins with God’s grace alone. Pighius claims Hilary’s words reflect the church’s tradition, yet where does this leave the council’s ruling? Though later in time, it aligns with earlier teachings from Carthage and Milevis.

I will leave Augustine aside for now, though when I bring him forward, he will thoroughly disrupt the supposed “harmony” Pighius claims among the church fathers. If I had time, I could show that the writings of the early church fathers reveal little consensus on this issue. However, I hope this example helps readers see the uncertainty we would have if we relied solely on tradition, as Pighius insists.

Augustine himself once faced opponents demanding proof from the fathers. He responded, “What use is it to examine the works of those who did not face this issue and so had no need to address it? They naturally touched on it only briefly.” Augustine knew that many of the fathers, dealing with different heresies, mentioned grace only in passing. If I used his words to show that seeking answers only in the writings of the fathers is misguided, Pighius would respond with insults. So, instead, I appeal to readers who value reason.

The core of my defense is that Pighius uses names in bad faith, misrepresenting evidence that does not contradict us at all. For instance, he claims Peter and Clement as witnesses, using false and forged documents to do so.

When it comes to Irenaeus and Tertullian, they describe man’s freedom only as it existed at creation, before the fall, without discussing the corruption brought by sin. This doesn’t contradict us, for we, too, affirm that man was created free but fell into bondage through sin. They argue that sin isn’t part of man’s essence, and we agree. But we add that after his fall, man’s nature was corrupted, a condition inherited by all his descendants. Thus, Pighius cannot count them as witnesses against us either.

Of the remaining writers Pighius cites, only Ambrose and Basil offer minimal support for his argument—if any at all. Their descriptions of human nature refer to its original, uncorrupted state, not to the fallen, weakened nature we now possess. Since true freedom of the will belongs only to a soul in sound health, restoring such freedom would require first restoring the soul's lost wholeness.

Then we come to Origen, whose views Jerome himself questioned as authoritative for defining church doctrine. But let’s consider this: if Pighius believes Origen could not have erred on what was wellknown in his day, then how does he explain Origen’s denial of essential truths? Origen held that the Son was created, not begotten, that the Son’s goodness was not inherent but received, that the Holy Spirit was merely a force, and that our physical bodies would not rise again. If Pighius insists Origen couldn’t err on matters so central to the faith, he exposes himself to obvious rebuttal.

As for Hilary, his views on free will were later rejected by an orthodox council. Jerome, whom Pighius also cites, softened his position on human ability in his later years, especially in response to Pelagianism. Chrysostom, too, spoke often of human power, yet I have always acknowledged his tendency to overstate our natural abilities. Pighius even tries to enlist Bernard as an ally, though if we examined Bernard’s views more closely, I believe the substance of his arguments would lean significantly in my favor.

In sum, Pighius’s reliance on these figures fails to offer solid support. Each, if carefully examined, either falls short or even supports, at least partially, what I have argued all along.

Where, then, is this supposed agreement from all generations that Pighius insists should be viewed as the clear, certain tradition of the church—even more reliable than God’s own word? Where is the “lie of immense magnitude” he claims to have exposed in my writings? I stated that the early church fathers, especially the Greeks, and particularly Chrysostom, often praised free will beyond its due. But I also noted that they spoke with such variety, confusion, or inconsistency that it’s hard to draw a solid conclusion from their writings. By “variety,” I meant that one writer might assign more power to free will, another less, or place freedom in different aspects of human faculties, leaving the overall impression unclear.

Pighius twists my words, as though I accused each of the church fathers of contradicting himself individually. What a gross misrepresentation! But should I not say they spoke confusingly when they discussed man’s will as though he were still whole and unfallen, even though humanity is, in reality, deeply wounded by sin, unable to rise without God’s aid? They speak of free will as though it remained unaffected by the Fall.

Now, if Pighius insists that before the Pelagian heresy, all the church fathers universally and unreservedly upheld human free choice, then I would like him to explain what he means. If we can gain clear understanding without careful distinctions between divine grace and human ability, then perhaps I am mistaken. But if, instead, readers are left in doubt and confusion about what is from God and what remains in human power, then why does he so maliciously attack me when I am merely stating the truth?