Calvin's Response to Pighius On Book Five [of Pighius]
In his fifth book, Pighius once again brings up ancient heretics who misunderstood human free will, trying to portray his views as a balanced middle ground between competing extremes. He claims that our teachings are a mix of past errors, adding new, even worse doctrines, and compares us to heretics like Marcion, Valentinus, and the Manichees. According to him, we share with them the belief that human nature is inherently corrupt and, like Wyclif and Valla, view humanity as passive instruments, controlled solely by God's will without any freedom. Furthermore, Pighius charges that we teach a doctrine more severe than even the heretics held: that human nature, including that of the saints, is entirely corrupt and capable only of evil. He asserts that unlike us, these heretics at least believed in a partial goodness within human nature.
I have already addressed this unfounded accusation that aligns us with Marcion and the Manichees. While we do acknowledge that human nature is corrupted, the difference between our teaching and theirs is profound. Marcion and the Manichees taught that an inclination to evil is part of human nature’s very essence, as though humanity was flawed from the beginning of creation. But our position is that human nature was originally created good and became corrupted only through humanity’s own voluntary fall, not due to any divine influence. When we speak of human corruption, we affirm it is the result of a fall, and not an inherent defect.
Thus, while we and these heretics might use similar words to describe corruption, the similarity ends there. We do not attribute the origin of evil to creation itself but lay the responsibility on humanity, who chose to disobey God. This fundamental difference is as vast as that between fire and water.
Pighius further accuses us of deserving the strongest condemnation because, he says, we denounce the entirety of human nature as corrupt. Yet, this accusation is unfounded. Since humanity sinned fully, with every part of our being, it is hardly surprising to say we are entirely fallen. However, it is important to understand that, unlike the heretics who blame this on an external, inherent flaw, we hold that human corruption stems from our own choice. Humanity is not a helpless victim of a flaw placed on it by God; rather, it is suffering the consequences of the willful disobedience of our first parent, Adam. Augustine himself supports this view, distinguishing orthodox teaching from that of the Manichees by affirming that sin is the result of human choice, not the design of the Creator.
Pighius even cites passages from my Institutes, which only reveal his slander for what it is. He claims that we say all people are inherently evil by nature, but we do not trace this evil back to God’s creation. Rather, we assert that Adam’s deliberate rebellion corrupted human nature. By his fall, Adam freely chose to become enslaved to sin, though he was initially created in freedom.
We affirm that the whole person is so affected by this corruption that, apart from divine grace, we cannot come to God on our own. This is precisely what God’s Word teaches. Scripture often uses the word “flesh” to describe our unregenerate nature, and when contrasted with “Spirit,” it clearly refers to our state before the transforming grace of God. Jesus himself, in John 3, declares, “That which is born of the flesh is flesh,” underscoring our need to be spiritually reborn. If only part of us were corrupt, Jesus’ words would be self-contradictory, as one might argue that another, better part of us could attain righteousness.
Paul echoes this when he states, “I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh” (Romans 7:18), and he further explains, “The mind of the flesh is hostile to God” (Romans 8:7). Paul’s testimony aligns with our view, acknowledging that human nature, left to itself, cannot submit to God’s righteousness.
Paul’s description in Romans 3 leaves no part of human nature untouched by condemnation. Thus, my teaching on humanity’s corruption is not a personal opinion; it is grounded in the clear judgment of the Holy Spirit.
Following logically from this, I affirm that it is not in our power to prepare ourselves to receive the grace of God. Our entire conversion, from beginning to end, is a gift of God. Scripture makes this abundantly clear. When the Lord promises to replace our heart of stone with a heart of flesh (Ezekiel 36:26), where is there room left for us to claim any preparation on our part? How can we, who are changed from unwilling to willing, from rebellious to obedient, credit ourselves with any readiness for this transformation?
The prophet Isaiah also confirms this truth when he speaks for God, saying, “I was found by those who did not seek me” (Isaiah 65:1). Although this statement initially refers to the Gentiles, it reflects how God calls all of us—by his initiative alone. It is God who seeks us, who turns us to himself. Even the thought of seeking him is beyond our capacity until he grants it to us, for as Paul says, we are unable even to think of anything good apart from God’s grace (2 Corinthians 3:5).
Scripture further describes how God works in us. Like sheep, we all went astray, each to our own way, yet the Lord brought us back to himself (Isaiah 53:6). He allows no part of this saving work to be attributed to human effort. It is entirely his doing: he opens our blind eyes, leads us from darkness to light, renews our minds, and raises us from death to life (Ephesians 2:1-5). If we are spiritually dead, what could we possibly contribute to prepare for the gift of life?
Moving to the nature of grace itself, I assert that grace does not merely give us a choice to either accept or resist. It doesn’t just assist our weakness. Rather, grace is the complete work of God in us. It is by grace alone that our hearts are transformed from stone to flesh, our wills are made new, and we are renewed in heart and mind to desire and pursue what is right. Paul affirms that God not only makes us able to will what is good, but he works in us to will it fully and to carry it out (Philippians 2:13). There is a significant difference between merely having the will to act and actually performing the good.
This divine work of grace is ongoing throughout our lives, not a single momentary act. It would be insufficient if God guided our hearts only once without continuing to support and strengthen us to persevere. On the subject of perseverance, we must remember two key points. First, we should not assume that we somehow cooperate with God by our own power when we follow the guidance of the Holy Spirit. Second, we should not think that subsequent grace is a reward for prior faithfulness, as though we earned further grace by how we used the first. No, God’s grace is a continuous, freely given gift from start to finish. As Augustine explains, God rewards us with grace in exchange for grace, continually increasing his kindness to us with new blessings.
All of this is beautifully summarized by Paul: “It is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure” (Philippians 2:13). Paul does not refer to a single action but to a lifelong work, whose source is solely God’s grace, flowing from his own goodness without regard to any merit on our part.
Pighius scoffs at my assertion that Augustine supports the teachings I present, dismissing it as though I’ve made baseless claims. However, everything I state is not only evident but can be clearly found, nearly word for word, in Augustine’s writings. Augustine affirms that human nature is thoroughly corrupt. He writes, “Do not suppose that you achieve anything, except insofar as you are evil” (On Psalm 142). And again, “Just as the Spirit of life in Christ regenerates believers, so the body of death in Adam produces sinners” (The Merits and Forgiveness of Sins 3.2). Augustine’s words show the contrast between life in the Spirit, which produces children of God, and life in the flesh, which results in sin and spiritual death.
I also maintain that God’s grace initiates our salvation without any prior merit on our part. We cannot even desire God until he awakens that desire within us. Augustine says plainly, “God by his grace takes away the stony heart from unbelievers and preempts human merit” (Letter to Vitalis). This grace, he explains, “precedes the human will” rather than being granted as a reward for our own decision to seek God. Our will, broken as it is, cannot freely choose God until his grace acts upon it. Augustine further illustrates this by asking why we pray for unbelievers: “Is it so that grace is granted because of their good will? No, rather, we pray so that their evil will should be transformed into a good one.” As Christ himself said, “No one can come to me unless the Father draws him” (John 6:44). Here, Augustine clarifies that God doesn’t merely lead; he actively changes our unwilling hearts, making them willing.
Augustine also emphasizes the severe limitations of free will in our fallen state, stating, “Free choice is capable only of sinning, as long as it is a prisoner” (To Boniface 3.8). In another passage, he writes, “How can anyone have a good purpose unless the Lord first has mercy on him, since a good will is precisely one prepared by the Lord?” (The Predestination of the Saints 19). Augustine consistently argues that God, moved by his own goodness rather than any human merit, initiates and sustains our transformation.
In all these statements, Augustine affirms that our salvation is entirely a work of God’s free and sovereign grace, which goes before, creates, and upholds our desire and capacity for faith.
In my teaching, I argue that God does not merely give man the choice to do good if he desires. Instead, God powerfully stirs and guides the heart to desire and act according to His will. Augustine supports this view, explaining that God’s will initiates our transformation from unbelief to faith, granting the desire to obey and the strength to persevere (The Gift of Perseverance, ch. 22).
Augustine contrasts the grace given to Adam with the greater grace offered through Christ. Adam was initially given the capacity to remain good if he chose, but he could abandon that grace through free will. In Christ, however, the grace given is even greater—it not only enables a person to desire good but actively causes them to will and pursue it with a steadfast love that overcomes fleshly desires. Augustine says that while Adam’s grace showed the possibility of free choice, the grace in Christ is so abundant that it secures both the will and the ability to remain faithful (Rebuke and Grace, ch. 11).
As for perseverance, I affirm that just as the beginning of good works depends on God, so does their completion. God’s power alone upholds the believer until the end, ensuring that the grace leading us is maintained throughout life. Augustine echoes this: he attributes both the initial will to believe and the perseverance to the end entirely to God’s grace. For, as he notes, the end of life lies in God’s control, and only God can ensure that one’s heart remains steadfast (Letter to Vitalis). Augustine writes that God puts a fear in the hearts of His people so great that they will cling to Him continually (The Gift of Perseverance, ch. 7).
Furthermore, Augustine teaches that even when man’s free will was uncorrupted, it could not achieve good without God’s grace. After the fall, Augustine asserts, it is solely by God’s grace that one can turn to Him and remain with Him. He states, “The grace to begin and to persevere to the end is granted according to God’s secret, just, and merciful will, not according to our merits” (The Gift of Perseverance, ch. 13). Ultimately, Augustine sums up that “the grace of God is the whole merit of the saints” (Rebuke and Grace, ch. 7).
So, if I rely on Augustine’s insights, it is because he so clearly affirms the truth of grace—that from beginning to end, our salvation is God’s gift alone, dependent neither on human merit nor on any independent strength within us.
The final point that frustrates Pighius is my statement that even after regeneration, the soul of a believer remains divided. He dismisses this as a mere fantasy, but such an idea should be clear to every Christian. The apostle Paul himself explains this internal conflict in Romans 7. There, Paul speaks personally, lamenting the inner struggle common to all believers: although he desires to do good, he finds himself often unable to carry it out fully. With his mind, he agrees with God’s law, yet his flesh is drawn toward sin. This tension results in a divided will, where he fails to do the good he loves and instead finds himself doing the evil he despises (Rom. 7:15-20).
Paul’s agreement with righteousness shows that his will aligns with God’s law. So, what hinders him from acting on it? Only a conflicting desire within him, one that arises from remnants of the "old self." In Romans 6, Paul speaks of the "old self" as crucified with Christ. However, while this "old self" no longer reigns, it has not been utterly destroyed and continues to create inner conflict. Paul uses “old self” to describe the parts of our nature not yet renewed by the Spirit (Eph. 4:22-24).
Paul speaks vividly of this struggle: opposing desires pull him back and forth, delaying him from running freely in righteousness. He attributes this resistance to sin living within him, and specifies that this sin resides in the "flesh." By "flesh," Paul does not mean the body alone, for the body itself has no moral inclinations. Instead, he refers to the aspect of human nature not yet fully transformed, which holds onto earthly desires.
So, where does this resistance come from? It stems from the fact that, though the Spirit is renewing us, our mind and will are not yet wholly reformed. Parts of us still bear marks of the old, earthly desires. This is why our will often opposes itself, one part wanting to obey God and another resisting. Thus, it is not only reasonable but accurate to say that even the regenerate soul is “divided.” Indeed, who among us does not feel this very struggle within?
A Middle Way?
In his fifth book, Pighius sets out to show that his teaching occupies a balanced middle ground between the extremes of Pelagianism and our own views on human nature and grace. He claims that Pelagians deny the grace of God entirely, while we supposedly deny human free will altogether. Pighius then presents his position as a blend of both views, suggesting that free will and grace work together. To lend credibility to his view, he calls it a "definition of the church," citing Augustine as his authority. Yet, he has selectively gathered quotes from Augustine, often from questionable sources, in an attempt to support his argument.
Pighius points to The Merits and Forgiveness of Sins, where he claims that Augustine does not reject free will but only criticizes the Pelagians for overstating it. However, it’s important to note that this was Augustine’s first work against Pelagianism, so he was only beginning to address the issue, not yet engaging in depth. But even here, Augustine’s primary concern was the nature of grace, which he believed came from God alone, even if he allowed the term "free will" to remain in common usage.
To understand Augustine’s view on the role of free will, Pighius notes that Augustine says no one sins unless they choose to. We agree—sin does indeed arise from the will. Pighius also claims that Augustine taught that God only commands what lies within our power. This would be true if we consider "power" as the special ability God bestows upon his chosen, rather than an ability innate to our nature. Augustine clarifies this when he compares grace to sunlight. Just as light allows the eye to see, God’s grace enables the will to turn to Him. Recognizing that his analogy might suggest human autonomy, Augustine further clarifies that God actually helps us turn to Him, something external light cannot do for the physical eye.
Pighius tries to argue that Augustine saw God’s help as conditional on our own effort. But Augustine’s meaning here is that God does not force people like animals or stones; rather, He transforms us from within, working through our will, making it voluntary yet fully dependent on His grace. Pighius selectively quotes Augustine to suggest that Augustine expects people to strive by their own efforts.
Yet in that very work, Augustine plainly states that, while humanity once had the ability to pursue righteousness naturally, our fallen state now makes obedience difficult. Thus, Augustine teaches that, though God calls us to strive and pray, even this striving is a gift from Him.
Pighius argues that Scripture supports his view of a combined operation of free will and grace by quoting passages that suggest people have free choice, alongside others that point to God as the source of all good that is in us. However, I have already explained the core meaning behind this “balance” he proposes. It rests on two truths: first, that people sin by their own willing, so they bear full responsibility for their actions; and second, that when God guides a person to do good, He doesn’t override their will but instead transforms it so that they desire and pursue what is good.
Augustine himself teaches this: the will, corrupted by nature, stubbornly resists God’s righteousness until grace changes it, making it delight in what it once resisted. This is precisely our stance. Pighius tries to argue otherwise, but his claims are too thin to deceive even the simplest mind, for it is obvious how closely Augustine’s words align with ours.
Pighius next offers his supposed “church definition” of free will. He begins with a list of ways grace is understood, a review that adds nothing new, as these concepts have been covered by others before him, including our own teachers. Yet, he carelessly injects his own thoughts in a way that distorts the truth. He then attempts to address the corruption of human nature inherited from Adam, although this foundational topic is one he had previously dismissed as too obscure for the current discussion.
Originally, Pighius argued that free will was a clear doctrine, while original sin was complex and unnecessary to address. But the truth of the matter has forced him to acknowledge the reality he tried to avoid: understanding free will and grace requires recognizing humanity’s fallen condition. He grudgingly agrees that humanity lost its original freedom through Adam’s fall, becoming enslaved to sin. But while we affirm that this fallen state means people lack the power to choose righteousness on their own, he insists on maintaining some innate ability to choose God’s grace—an ability Scripture does not support.
Ultimately, even as Pighius wears himself out to prove his point, he arrives only at truths that we, and Augustine before us, have already affirmed: that while humanity is bound by sin, it is grace alone that liberates the will to seek and choose God.
To avoid over-explaining Pighius’ arguments, I’ll simply address the main points of his position. He considers it absurd and even impious for us to teach that human nature is so deeply corrupted by original sin that a person cannot avoid sinning. He insists that our natural abilities were not destroyed by sin, but only the additional gift of grace, which God initially bestowed, was removed.
Pighius frequently claims Augustine as a supporter of this view, but Augustine himself clearly distinguishes between human nature as originally created by God and human nature as it is now—corrupted. Augustine emphasizes that we are to consider the current, fallen state of humanity rather than the untainted nature given in creation. Yet Pighius denies any loss or corruption of our nature, a belief central to the Pelagian heresy which Augustine tirelessly refuted. Pelagius claimed that human nature remains intact, while Augustine insisted that it has been severely wounded and corrupted by sin.
Pighius argues that mortality and corruption in the human body stem from the natural composition of our physical elements, rather than from any flaw or consequence of sin. By this logic, one might argue that the resurrected body would still be mortal since it is also made of elements. Yet, if he conceded that the perfection God gave humanity at creation was a divine gift rather than a self-sustaining trait, his view might hold more weight. Paul teaches that immortality belongs to God alone, meaning that while the soul is not naturally immortal, God sustains it in life.
When Paul explains the origin of death, he attributes it to sin, not to nature itself. Death was not inherent to human nature but was brought about by man’s rebellion. Thus, while freedom from death was the natural state of humanity as created, our current mortality is a result of the fall. This straightforward teaching opposes Pighius’ complex reasoning, which claims that the natural desires of the flesh that disrupt our pursuit of righteousness are simply part of our original, good nature rather than a result of sin’s corruption.
Pighius, in accusing us of being Manichees, ironically confesses views that align closer to them than to any orthodox Christian teaching. He repeatedly accuses us of condemning human nature by claiming that all sin comes from a corrupted nature. Yet he himself teaches that the rebellion of the flesh—the desire opposing reason and righteousness—existed in human nature even before sin. By this view, Pighius implies that sin is intrinsic to human nature itself, essentially placing fault with God as the creator of this rebellion. His claim echoes the very teachings of the Manichees, who argued that evil is woven into the essence of creation.
When Pighius declares that humanity lost nothing of its natural goodness at the Fall but merely the "supernatural gifts" of God, he reveals his confusion. He fails to distinguish the original integrity of human nature from the corrupt state it now holds. In short, he cannot see that what remains in human nature—our faculties and emotions—are the same, yet marred by sin.
To clarify, we affirm that feelings like marital love, parental love, joy, and sorrow are natural and were given in creation. But the chaotic impulses and uncontrolled desires that push us toward evil are products of our fallen condition, not part of God’s original design. Augustine speaks to this, noting that our desire in its corrupted state is no longer pure will but rather lust—a will without proper bounds. For instance, the love between parent and child or between husband and wife, which should be pure and praiseworthy, is now often tainted by self-centeredness or impurity.
Thus, from the root of our fallen nature, no action is fully clean. As the will itself is corrupted, so it produces only what is stained and defiled. This is not a condemnation of God’s original creation but a recognition that, through the Fall, our entire nature has been tainted, and we are in need of God's grace to be made whole again.
Our teaching is clear: humanity's fallen nature is so deeply corrupted by sin that it cannot produce anything truly good. Even when we pursue what is noble, the remnants of sin taint our desires. If even our honorable pursuits are marred by sin, how much more when we are drawn toward evil? Scripture consistently affirms this brokenness. Pighius, however, refuses to see this distinction between pure and corrupted nature. He argues that our view slanders God, suggesting it would be unjust for God to create a nature that could only sin. Yet, our sinful condition is not God's doing; it is the result of humanity’s fall through Adam, who passed this curse onto us all. If Pighius fears that holding Adam responsible for our corruption makes God appear unjust, his real quarrel is with the Word of God, where this truth is declared plainly.
In discussing human renewal, Pighius suggests that God’s grace is available to those who desire it and reach for it, emphasizing human effort to seek, ask for, and respond to God’s grace. He believes all people can receive grace if they are willing and argues that this approach respects God’s grace without diminishing it. According to him, people can choose, by their own strength, to hate sin, seek forgiveness, and hope for grace. He dismisses our position as overly cautious, accusing us of distorting grace in an unnecessary and misguided defense against human pride.
However, Pighius’s interpretation disregards the clarity of Scripture and the teaching of the early church. The Council of Orange, for instance, firmly condemned the idea that faith originates within us apart from God’s work. The council declared heretical any teaching that God merely waits for our willingness to seek forgiveness, or that faith and the desire to believe are natural capacities. The council affirms that it is the Holy Spirit who moves us to even want to believe, to seek God, and to turn from sin. Without this divine work, we remain spiritually powerless, unable to please God or turn to Him on our own.
The council’s decrees also reject the notion that humanity retained any spiritual freedom after the fall. If anyone claims that the soul’s freedom was not affected by Adam’s sin, he is misled by Pelagian error. Additionally, the council affirms that grace does not respond to human requests but rather inspires them, echoing the prophet Isaiah who says that it is God’s Spirit that prompts us to call upon Him.
These teachings make it clear: any good within us, including our faith and desire for God, is a gift from His grace, not the result of our own will. Without God’s sovereign work in us, we could only produce sin and falsehood. Thus, grace is wholly of God, and all credit for any goodness, faith, or repentance belongs solely to Him.
Let Pighius show me even one part of his teaching that isn’t already condemned by the decrees of the church! And if he disregards the council’s authority, perhaps he’ll take to heart that those bishops who signed the decrees didn’t see themselves as the authors of these doctrines but as affirming them, having received them from the apostolic see. This very see, which Pighius claims speaks with authority as if from heaven itself, has already pronounced anathema against views like his. What will he say to that?
Pighius claims repeatedly that he has nothing in common with the Pelagians. But if he believes this, he must be inventing his own version of them. Not only does he closely resemble the Pelagians Augustine describes, but in some ways, he’s even worse. Augustine records that some in Gaul, who differed from him on grace, at least believed that human beings were marked by Adam’s sin and could be freed only through Christ’s righteousness. They also affirmed that grace goes before human will, meaning that people are incapable of starting or finishing any good work on their own. When Augustine debated with these semi-Pelagians, he acknowledged their partial agreement but still found their views insufficient. Pighius, however, shouts that no one receives help from God without first preparing himself through will, hope, and seeking. So, where is the great divide between Pighius and the Pelagians he claims to denounce?
Pighius indeed criticizes Pelagius for suggesting that man can make God indebted to him. But what is his argument? He says that man, even without fault, has nothing with which to demand eternal life from his Creator. And now, after sinning and falling into death’s penalty, man can do even less to earn forgiveness or adoption. Pighius is so confident that he has dealt a fatal blow to Pelagianism that he mocks our attempts to defend God’s grace. Yet, if we remove his statement about punishment, there’s nothing left in his argument that would actually trouble Pelagius. In fact, Pighius even praises human nature with the same kind of lofty speech that Pelagius himself used when called to explain his beliefs about grace. “What is man, or what does he have, that he has not received from God?” Pelagius also declared. And if man has received all from God, what madness it would be for him to claim anything as his own. Yet, this very line of reasoning, far from disproving Pelagius, only shows Pighius standing in agreement with him, parroting the same ideas with different words.
Pighius claims he has removed from man the possibility of earning an obligation from God—something he asserts Pelagius taught. Yet, this seems to be an idea Pighius has invented, as Pelagius actually argued that any “obligation” on God’s part came solely from His own promises, not from human merit. Pelagius taught that, by God’s free choice, He set the value of human actions, not as if He owed anything by nature or law, but out of His boundless kindness. Pelagius did not attribute human merit to any independent virtue or righteousness, but fully credited it to God’s grace. While echoing these very points, Pighius celebrates as though he has defeated Pelagianism.
Pighius argues that God’s grace comes only to those who are prepared to receive it because, he reasons, a wise God would surely have a specific cause for giving grace to one person over another. But I respond, echoing Augustine: "Far be it that the choice should lie with the clay rather than the potter" (Rom. 9:21). God does indeed have a reason for His actions, yet that reason lies hidden in His wisdom, which is beyond our limited understanding. While we honor God’s wisdom with reverent awe, Pighius instead limits God’s ways to what his own mind can grasp. This leads him to a dreadful conclusion: that if God shows mercy to one sinner and not another, He would be acting irrationally or even foolishly.
Scripture, however, presents a different view. God promises through Isaiah that He will be found by those who have not sought Him and will reveal Himself to those who were not searching for Him (Isa. 65:1). He did not make this promise to all indiscriminately but to some. If we consider how this was fulfilled in Paul’s ministry to the Gentiles, we see that God did not wait for them to turn to Him. Instead, He drew to Himself those who were once alienated and rebellious.
For a clear example, look at the Ephesians. God showed them mercy not when they were seeking Him, but when they were "dead in sins," serving sinful desires, and living entirely according to the world (Eph. 2:1-3). If anyone wonders why God showed grace to the Ephesians and not to others, it is not because of any special inclination or goodness on their part. Paul states plainly: they were "by nature children of wrath, like the rest." God made no distinction based on anything within them but only because of His own mercy. As Paul teaches, “I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy” (Rom. 9:15). Thus, God’s choice and mercy rest not on any human preparation or worth but solely on His sovereign will, which is far above our understanding.
Pighius points to certain passages in Scripture that seem to imply God’s grace is given only to those who prepare themselves for it. He refers to verses like, “To whom will I look except to him who is humble and contrite in spirit, and trembles at my word?” (Isa. 66:2). Yes, God values humility, as David says that a “broken and contrite heart” is pleasing to Him (Ps. 51:17). But we must ask, where does this humility and reverence for God’s word come from? Scripture and experience tell us that the human heart is naturally proud and self-assured until it is softened and humbled by God’s Spirit. It is not through our own strength that we come to this humility; rather, it is the Spirit who prepares us to receive God’s righteousness.
Jesus calls to Himself those who are weary and burdened, but it is He who opens our eyes to feel the weight of our sin (Matt. 11:28). Like the proverb, we acknowledge that true healing begins with recognizing the sickness. Christ indeed reveals Himself to us as the Healer, but only after we realize our need. This awareness—of our sickness, of God’s holiness, and of our need for grace—does not come naturally. It is God who awakens us to see our sin and fear His judgment, stirring in us humility, repentance, and a longing for His mercy.
As Jeremiah prays, “Convert me, O Lord, and I shall be converted; after you led me to repentance, I turned back; I was ashamed and even struck my thigh in sorrow” (Jer. 31:18-19). Here, the prophet attributes every aspect of his conversion to God’s work: the hatred of sin, the sorrow over offense, and the desire for grace. Where Pighius ascribes these things to human choice, Scripture and true experience attribute them entirely to the Spirit’s transforming work.
Pighius argues that we are continually stirred and moved by God, but only if we first make an effort, if we cooperate with His grace and work hard ourselves. In dividing the responsibility in this way, he effectively leaves the main part of repentance within human control. But this view directly contradicts the words of the prophets, who show that repentance in its entirety—starting with its first spark—is a work of God alone. While Pighius claims that grace fails only those who fail themselves, I agree with one clarification: all lack both good will and strength unless God provides them. When God does stir someone’s heart to seek and follow Him, it is through His creating a new heart and renewing a right spirit within us (Ps. 51:10).
Later, Pighius introduces what he calls three distinct actions of God’s grace: He says the first is “prevenient grace,” by which God stirs our desire for justification and extends a helping hand. Yet this contradicts his own earlier assertion that God waits to grant grace until someone shows themselves humble and seeks His mercy. Surely if God stirs holy desires in a person, He has already begun to show them favor, even before any movement of their own will. When early theologians spoke of “prevenient grace,” they understood it to mean God acts first, transforming the will on His own; Pighius, however, argues that we must contribute our willingness before grace can act. As Augustine rightly said, “Not only are the unwilling made willing, but rebels are made submissive.” Augustine taught that grace makes our wills good; we do not come to God with goodness already in place.
Pighius further twists the words of Ezekiel, who proclaims God’s promise to replace our “heart of stone” with a “heart of flesh,” to mean that we must first be softened before God can help us. But Ezekiel’s language is clear: God alone does this work, causing us to walk in His commandments (Ezek. 36:26-27). This transformation is not partial or dependent on human will but is the complete renewal that God Himself works within us. Pighius’s view implies that God only assists us if we cooperate, yet Scripture shows that God alone brings us to faith, preparing our hearts to receive Him entirely by His own power.
Pighius overlooks that, according to Paul’s words, God’s grace is not just offered but made effective, producing both the will and the power to act according to His good pleasure (Phil. 2:13). Grace is not a mere invitation dependent on our willingness but an active force that brings about real transformation. Pighius tries to argue that grace leads to condemnation if rejected, quoting Paul, “Do you show contempt for the riches of His kindness, not realizing that God’s kindness is intended to lead you to repentance?” (Rom. 2:4). But here Paul is addressing hypocrites—those who misuse God’s kindness and think that God’s favor means approval of their sin. In their presumption, they store up wrath rather than responding with repentance. Pighius wrongly conflates the general kindness of God, shown to all, with the specific, regenerating grace God gives to His elect.
Another of Pighius’s arguments involves Christ’s words: “I stand at the door and knock; if anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him” (Rev. 3:20). Pighius takes this to mean that prevenient grace is available to all, and that we must take the step of opening our hearts to Christ. But Christ’s “knocking” here refers to His calls and exhortations. The ability to “open” our hearts is also given by God. He alone can open the heart to understand and obey His call, as Scripture says: “I will circumcise your heart so that you will love the Lord” (Deut. 30:6). Moses likewise reminds the Israelites that their lack of spiritual sight and hearing is because “the Lord has not given you a heart to understand, or eyes to see, or ears to hear” (Deut. 29:4). Despite this, Pighius argues that, even if God helps, it still partially depends on us to respond. Yet, he provides no proof, only empty digressions.
In the end, Pighius’s view reduces God’s grace to an offer that we, by our own power, must complete. But Scripture affirms that it is God who both calls and enables us to respond, for “salvation belongs to the Lord” (Ps. 3:8).
Pighius quotes the prophet Isaiah, “Let the wicked forsake his way, and the Lord will have mercy on him” (Isa. 55:7), to argue that turning away from sin is something within our control—an act we perform to open ourselves to God’s mercy. But does this mean that conversion to God, which Scripture describes as a resurrection of the soul, is something we can accomplish by our own power? Pighius insists that we must make the first move for God to grant mercy, suggesting that God’s grace comes as a response to our repentance.
Pighius also points to Paul’s words, “The grace of God was not in vain in me” (1 Cor. 15:10), interpreting this to mean that man cooperates with God in spiritual growth. Yet, Pighius misses the key reason Paul says this. Paul, while acknowledging his own labor, immediately clarifies, “not I, but the grace of God that was with me.” He attributes his work entirely to God’s grace, ensuring there is no impression that he claims any credit for himself.
Pighius’s argument is founded on an idea so fixed in his mind that he cannot see its contradictions. He insists that grace is available only if we first reach out for it, and that it becomes effective only if we sustain it with our own strength. Yet he also claims that all grace is a free gift from God, that God alone initiates and completes good works in us. He holds to these ideas simultaneously, as though they could fit together, when in reality, they are irreconcilable.
The problem lies in his core assumption: that God’s grace is offered equally to all, but only to those who make themselves worthy of it. Pighius cannot see past this belief, even as it leads him to contradict himself, minimizing God’s grace while elevating human nature. This tension prevents him from grasping the depth of God’s work in our transformation, which, as Augustine teaches, is entirely a gift of divine grace and not something we begin or sustain by our own power.
Pighius argues that God’s grace must be offered equally to all, using Ezekiel’s words, “I do not desire the death of anyone who dies; instead, let him turn and live” (Ezek. 18:32) as his basis. But if we interpret this as Pighius does, why, then, do some still perish, though God supposedly does not want anyone to die? Scripture declares that “God is in heaven; He has done whatever He pleases” (Ps. 115:3). Here lies a deep and complex issue if we interpret Ezekiel’s words as a description of God’s secret, ultimate will.
Augustine’s interpretation helps here: God has provided all that is needed for salvation, holding out the path to life. The only obstacle is the sickness of human sin, not any lack of provision from God. In this sense, God indeed wills that people live, as he makes every effort for their return to Him. Yet, God’s hidden plan remains—that He, in His wisdom, elects some while passing over others.
If Pighius understood this, he would see why it is misguided to insist that grace must be equally distributed to all. His stance, however, ultimately aligns with Pelagius, claiming that grace is dispensed according to human merit, implying that God’s favor depends on us meeting certain conditions. By contrast, Augustine, whose words we affirm, teaches: “Those to whom grace is given will in such a way that they indeed fulfill what they will, while those who are not given grace either do not will at all, or cannot fulfill what they will” (Augustine, Grace and Free Will, ch. 4).
Our view thus returns to this clear distinction: true obedience and fulfillment of God’s commands come only by His grace, not through any prior merit or strength within us.
In conclusion, Pighius’ attempts to distance himself from Pelagius fail, as his arguments align closely with Pelagian ideas, which we have clearly demonstrated. At the same time, he tries to align us with the heretic Mani, despite the fact that our teachings differ as much from Mani’s as they do from the church's historical faith. Although he hides behind an outward show of orthodoxy, discerning readers see through his pretense, recognizing that his views are at odds with true Christian doctrine.
Pighius also claims to take a “middle ground” by blending two irreconcilable ideas: that all good in people is fully God’s work, yet at the same time, people supposedly possess the power to obtain grace by their own efforts and then make it effective by their strength. This is not a middle path but a confusion that leads only to spiritual entanglement. No amount of selective scriptural quotations can support his view, for all of Scripture attributes both faith and good works entirely to God’s grace. While Scripture indeed praises those who live devout lives, it consistently gives God the credit for every good thing, identifying Him as the true source of righteousness, wisdom, and strength, and leaves humans with nothing apart from His grace.
Pighius also falsely suggests that, by emphasizing our dependence on grace, we turn people into “stones” without free agency. Yet we affirm that the mind sees—when illuminated by God, that judgment discerns—under the Spirit’s guidance, that the heart wills—after being renewed by God’s hand, and that people do indeed act and strive to obey, but only in the strength of the grace God provides.
Finally, his argument that God’s goodness must be equally accessible to all misunderstands God’s wisdom. Scripture shows that God’s goodness shines not by treating all identically but by revealing mercy in some and justice in others.
Pighius has no grounds to accuse us of promoting hatred by teaching that God’s saving grace is given only to the elect. He claims this “limits” God’s grace, but we understand that grace remains truly free because God chooses to give it to whomever He wills. If I were to examine each Scripture passage Pighius uses to argue against this point, it would be an endless task, given how often he distorts the meaning.
For example, Pighius cites the passage that says we all have one Father, God (Malachi 2:10), to argue that God is equally Father to all people. But this statement is directed to God’s faithful people, Israel, and does not encompass all humanity. Similarly, he quotes David, who says God is “kind to all” and that His “mercies are over all His works” (Psalm 145:9). However, while God’s kindness extends broadly, it does not imply that all receive the Spirit of regeneration. Even the creatures of the field experience His kindness, but only the elect are sanctified by the Spirit, transformed into holy temples for God by His sovereign grace.