Difficult Doctrine of The Love of God

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THE DIFFICULT DOCTRINE

OF THE LOVE OF GOD
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C ROSSWAY B OOKS BY D. A. C ARSON
For the Love of God, Volumes 1 and 2
Letters Along the Way (co-author, John D. Woodbridge)
The Difficult Doctrine of the Love of God

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The
D IFFICULT
D OCTRINE
of the
LOVE of
G OD
.,
D. A. Carson
C R O S S W AY B O O K S
WHEATON, ILLINOIS
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The Difficult Doctrine of the Love of God

Copyright © 2000 by D. A. Carson
Published by Crossway Books
a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers
1300 Crescent Street
Wheaton, Illinois 60187
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored
in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic,
mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permis-
sion of the publisher, except as provided by USA copyright law.
Cover design: Cindy Kiple
First printing, 2000
Printed in the United States of America
Scripture taken from the Holy Bible: New International Version®.
Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society.
Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House. All rights reserved.
The “NIV” and “New International Version” trademarks are registered in
the United States Patent and Trademark Office by International Bible
Society. Use of either trademark requires the permission of International
Bible Society.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Carson, D. A.
The difficult doctrine of the love of God / D. A. Carson.
p. cm.
ISBN 13: 978-1-58134-126-3 (tpb. : alk. paper)
ISBN 10: 1-58134-126-1
1. God—Love. I. Title.
BT140.C26 2000
231'.6—dc21 99-047911
VP 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11 10 09 08
20 19 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11 10 9
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CO N T E N T S
Preface 7
1 On Distorting the Love of God 9
2 God Is Love 25
3 God’s Love and God’s Sovereignty 45
4 God’s Love and God’s Wrath 65
Notes 85
General Index 89
Scripture Index 91
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P R E FAC E
lthough parts of this book were first delivered as lectures

A in various places, the four chapters, more or less as
printed here, were prepared in the first instance as the W. H.
Griffith Thomas Lectures and were delivered at Dallas
Theological Seminary in February 1998.
I am very grateful for the many kindnesses shown me dur-
ing the four days of my visit. Faculty members went out of their
way to be welcoming. It was good to renew old acquaintances
and friendships and to establish new ones. The academic dean,
Dr. Mark Bailey, and his staff were solicitous and helpful beyond
mere professionalism.
Since then I have repeated the four lectures, each time lightly
revised, at Carey Baptist College in New Zealand, Moore
Theological College in Sydney, Australia, and at Gilcomston
Church in Aberdeen. In each case I benefited from both the hos-
pitality and the questions.
I am especially grateful to God for the opportunity afforded
by these lectures to put into print a little theological reflection
that has occupied me for some time. The theme of the love of
God is not soon exhausted either in our experience or in our the-
7
T HE D IFFICULT D OCTRINE OF THE L OVE OF G OD
ology. Doubtless it will occupy our reflection and call forth our
adoration in eternity. This little book makes no pretense of either
comprehensiveness or profundity. It is not much more than a
priming of the pump. In part it covers ground that many
Christians three centuries ago knew something about, things
widely lost today. If this book makes even a small contribution
to their recovery, I shall be grateful.
The lectures first appeared in print in the four fascicles of the
1999 volume of Bibliotheca Sacra. I am grateful to Crossway Books
for producing the lectures in this form, slightly revised yet again,
thereby making them more widely available. It will soon be
obvious to the reader that, with minor exceptions, I have
retained the relative informality of the lecture rather than turn
these chapters into essays. Also I would very much like to thank
my graduate assistant, Sigurd Grindheim, for compiling the
indexes.
Soli Deo gloria.
D. A. Carson
Trinity Evangelical Divinity School
8
O N D ISTORTING
THE LOVE OF G OD
.,
n learning the title of this series, “The Difficult Doctrine

O of the Love of God,” you might well be forgiven for think-
ing that the 1998 W. H. Griffith Thomas lecturer has taken leave
of his senses. If he had chosen to speak on “The Difficult
Doctrine of the Trinity,” or “The Difficult Doctrine of
Predestination,” at least his title would have been coherent. But
isn’t the doctrine of the love of God, well, easy compared with
such high-flown and mysterious teachings?
A. Why the Doctrine of the Love of God Must Be

Judged Difficult
There are at least five reasons.
(1) If people believe in God at all today, the overwhelming
majority hold that this God—however he, she, or it may be
understood—is a loving being. But that is what makes the task
of the Christian witness so daunting. For this widely dissemi-
nated belief in the love of God is set with increasing frequency
in some matrix other than biblical theology. The result is that
9
when informed Christians talk about the love of God, they mean
something very different from what is meant in the surrounding
culture. Worse, neither side may perceive that that is the case.
Consider some recent products of the film industry, that cel-
luloid preserve that both reflects and shapes Western culture. For
our purposes science-fiction films may be divided into two
kinds. Perhaps the more popular ones are the slam-bang, shoot-
’em-up kind, such as Independence Day or the four-part Alien
series, complete with loathsome evil. Obviously the aliens have
to be nasty, or there would be no threat and therefore no targets
and no fun. Rarely do these films set out to convey a cosmolog-
ical message, still less a spiritual one.
The other sort of film in this class, trying to convey a message
even as it seeks to entertain, almost always portrays the ultimate
power as benevolent. On the border between the two kinds of
films is the Star Wars series, with its treatment of the morally
ambiguous Force, but even this series tilts toward the assump-
tion of a final victory for the “light” side of the Force. ET, as Roy
Anker has put it, is “a glowing-heart incarnation tale that cli-
maxes in resurrection and ascension.”1 And now in Jodie
Foster’s Contact, the unexplained intelligence is suffused with
love, wisely provident, gently awesome.
Anker himself thinks this “indirection,” as he calls it, is a
great help to the Christian cause. Like the writings of J. R. R.
Tolkien and C. S. Lewis, these films help people indirectly to
appreciate the sheer goodness and love of God. I am not nearly
so sanguine. Tolkien and Lewis still lived in a world shaped by
the Judeo-Christian heritage. Their “indirection” was read by
others in the culture who had also been shaped by that heritage,
10
On Distorting the Love of God
even though many of their readers were not Christians in any

biblical sense.
But the worldview of Contact is monistic, naturalistic, plu-
ralistic (after all, the film was dedicated to Carl Sagan). It has far
more connections with New Age, Pollyannaish optimism than
anything substantive. Suddenly the Christian doctrine of the
love of God becomes very difficult, for the entire framework in
which it is set in Scripture has been replaced.
(2) To put this another way, we live in a culture in which
many other and complementary truths about God are widely
disbelieved. I do not think that what the Bible says about the love
of God can long survive at the forefront of our thinking if it is
abstracted from the sovereignty of God, the holiness of God, the
wrath of God, the providence of God, or the personhood of
God—to mention only a few nonnegotiable elements of basic
Christianity.
The result, of course, is that the love of God in our culture has
been purged of anything the culture finds uncomfortable. The
love of God has been sanitized, democratized, and above all sen-
timentalized. This process has been going on for some time. My
generation was taught to sing, “What the world needs now is
love, sweet love,” in which we robustly instruct the Almighty
that we do not need another mountain (we have enough of them),
but we could do with some more love. The hubris is staggering.
It has not always been so. In generations when almost every-
one believed in the justice of God, people sometimes found it dif-
ficult to believe in the love of God. The preaching of the love of
God came as wonderful good news. Nowadays if you tell peo-
ple that God loves them, they are unlikely to be surprised. Of
11
course God loves me; he’s like that, isn’t he? Besides, why
shouldn’t he love me? I’m kind of cute, or at least as nice as the
next person. I’m okay, you’re okay, and God loves you and me.
Even in the mid-1980s, according to Andrew Greeley, three-
quarters of his respondents in an important poll reported that
they preferred to think of God as “friend” than as “king.”2 I won-
der what the percentage would have been if the option had been
“friend” or “judge.” Today most people seem to have little diffi-
culty believing in the love of God; they have far more difficulty
believing in the justice of God, the wrath of God, and the non-
contradictory truthfulness of an omniscient God. But is the bib-
lical teaching on the love of God maintaining its shape when the
meaning of “God” dissolves in mist?
We must not think that Christians are immune from these
influences. In an important book, Marsha Witten surveys what
is being preached in the Protestant pulpit.3 Let us admit the lim-
itations of her study. Her pool of sermons was drawn, on the one
hand, from the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.), scarcely a bastion
of confessional evangelicalism; and, on the other, from churches
belonging to the Southern Baptist Convention. Strikingly, on
many of the crucial issues, there was only marginal statistical dif-
ference between these two ecclesiastical heritages. A more sig-
nificant limitation was that the sermons she studied all focused
on the parable of the prodigal son (Luke 15). That is bound to
slant sermons in a certain direction.
Nevertheless her book abounds in lengthy quotations from
these sermons, and they are immensely troubling. There is a
powerful tendency “to present God through characterizations of
his inner states, with an emphasis on his emotions, which closely
12
resemble those of human beings. . . . God is more likely to ‘feel’

than to ‘act,’ to ‘think’ than to ‘say.’”4 Or again:
The relatively weak notion of God’s fearsome capabilities

regarding judgment is underscored by an almost complete
lack of discursive construction of anxiety around one’s future
state. As we have already seen, the sermons dramatize feel-
ings of anxiety for listeners over many other (this-worldly)
aspects of their removal from God, whether they are dis-
cussing in the vocabulary of sin or in other formulations. But
even when directly referring to the unconverted, only two
sermons press on fear of God’s judgment by depicting anxi-
ety over salvation, and each text does this only obliquely, as
it makes the point indirectly on its way to other issues while
buffering the audience from negative feelings. . . . The tran-
scendent, majestic, awesome God of Luther and Calvin—
whose image informed early Protestant visions of the
relationship between human beings and the divine has
undergone a softening of demeanor through the American
experience of Protestantism, with only minor exceptions. . . .
Many of the sermons depict a God whose behavior is regu-
lar, patterned, and predictable; he is portrayed in terms of the
consistency of his behavior, of the conformity of his actions
to the single rule of “love.”5
With such sentimentalizing of God multiplying in Protestant

churches, it does not take much to see how difficult maintaining
a biblical doctrine of the love of God can be.
(3) Some elements of the larger and still developing patterns
of postmodernism play into the problem with which we are
dealing. Because of remarkable shifts in the West’s epistemology,
more and more people believe that the only heresy left is the
13
view that there is such a thing as heresy. They hold that all relig-
ions are fundamentally the same and that, therefore, it is not only
rude but profoundly ignorant and old-fashioned to try to win
someone to your beliefs since implicitly that is announcing that
theirs are inferior.6
This stance, fueled in the West, now reaches into many parts of
the world. For example, in a recent book Caleb Oluremi Oladipo
outlines The Development of the Doctrine of the Holy Spirit in the
Yoruba (African) Indigenous Church Movement.7 His concern is to
show the interplay between Christian beliefs and Yoruba tradi-
tional religion on the indigenous church. After establishing “two
distinct perspectives” that need not detain us here, Oladipo writes:
These two paradigmic [sic] perspectives in the book are

founded on a fundamental assertion that the nature of God
is universal love. This assertion presupposes that while
Western missionaries asserted that the nature of God is uni-
versal love, most missionaries have denied salvation to vari-
ous portions of the world population, and in most cases they
did so indiscriminately. The book points out the inconsisten-
cies of such a view, and attempts to bring coherency between
Christianity and other religions in general, and Yoruba
Traditional Religion in particular.8
In short, the most energetic cultural tide, postmodernism,

powerfully reinforces the most sentimental, syncretistic, and
often pluralistic views of the love of God, with no other author-
ity base than the postmodern epistemology itself. But that makes
the articulation of a biblical doctrine of God and of a biblical doc-
trine of the love of God an extraordinarily difficult challenge.
14
(4) The first three difficulties stem from developments in the

culture that make grasping and articulating the doctrine of the
love of God a considerable challenge. This fourth element is in
certain respects more fundamental. In the cultural rush toward
a sentimentalized, sometimes even non-theistic vision of the
love of God, we Christians have sometimes been swept along to
the extent that we have forgotten that within Christian confession-
alism the doctrine of the love of God poses its difficulties. This
side of two world wars; genocide in Russia, China, Germany,
and Africa; mass starvation; Hitler and Pol Pot; endless disgust-
ing corruptions at home and abroad—all in this century—is the
love of God such an obvious doctrine? Of course that is raising
the difficulties from an experiential point of view. One may do
the same thing from the perspective of systematic theology.
Precisely how does one integrate what the Bible says about the
love of God with what the Bible says about God’s sovereignty,
extending as it does even over the domain of evil? What does
love mean in a Being whom at least some texts treat as impassi-
ble? How is God’s love tied to God’s justice?
In other words, one of the most dangerous results of the
impact of contemporary sentimentalized versions of love on the
church is our widespread inability to think through the funda-
mental questions that alone enable us to maintain a doctrine of
God in biblical proportion and balance. However glorious and
privileged a task that may be, none of it is easy. We are dealing
with God, and fatuous reductionisms are bound to be skewed
and dangerous.
(5) Finally, the doctrine of the love of God is sometimes por-
trayed within Christian circles as much easier and more obvious
15
than it really is, and this is achieved by overlooking some of the

distinctions the Bible itself introduces when it depicts the love of
God. This is so important that it becomes my next major point.
B. Some Different Ways the Bible Speaks

of the Love of God
I had better warn you that not all of the passages to which I refer
actually use the word love. When I speak of the doctrine of the
love of God, I include themes and texts that depict God’s love
without ever using the word, just as Jesus tells parables that
depict grace without using that word.
With that warning to the fore, I draw your attention to five
distinguishable ways the Bible speaks of the love of God. This is
not an exhaustive list, but it is heuristically useful.
(1) The peculiar love of the Father for the Son, and of the Son for
the Father. John’s Gospel is especially rich in this theme. Twice we
are told that the Father loves the Son, once with the
verb agap
j áw (John 3:35), and once with oiléw (John 5:20). Yet
the evangelist also insists that the world must learn that Jesus
loves the Father (John 14:31). This intra-Trinitarian love of God
not only marks off Christian monotheism from all other
monotheisms, but is bound up in surprising ways with revela-
tion and redemption. I shall return to this theme in the next
chapter.
(2) God’s providential love over all that he has made. By and large
the Bible veers away from using the word love in this connection,
but the theme is not hard to find. God creates everything, and
before there is a whiff of sin, he pronounces all that he has made
to be “good” (Gen. 1). This is the product of a loving Creator. The
16
Lord Jesus depicts a world in which God clothes the grass of the
fields with the glory of wildflowers seen by no human being,
perhaps, but seen by God. The lion roars and hauls down its
prey, but it is God who feeds the animal. The birds of the air find
food, but that is the result of God’s loving providence, and not a
sparrow falls from the sky apart from the sanction of the
Almighty (Matt. 6). If this were not a benevolent providence, a
loving providence, then the moral lesson that Jesus drives home,
viz. that this God can be trusted to provide for his own people,
would be incoherent.
(3) God’s salvific stance toward his fallen world. God so loved the
world that he gave his Son (John 3:16). I know that some try to
take kósmoy (“world”) here to refer to the elect. But that really
will not do. All the evidence of the usage of the word in John’s
Gospel is against the suggestion. True, world in John does not so
much refer to bigness as to badness. In John’s vocabulary, world
is primarily the moral order in willful and culpable rebellion
against God. In John 3:16 God’s love in sending the Lord Jesus
is to be admired not because it is extended to so big a thing as
the world, but to so bad a thing; not to so many people, as to such
wicked people. Nevertheless elsewhere John can speak of “the
whole world” (1 John 2:2), thus bringing bigness and badness
together. More importantly, in Johannine theology the disciples
themselves once belonged to the world but were drawn out of it
(e.g., John 15:19). On this axis, God’s love for the world cannot
be collapsed into his love for the elect.
The same lesson is learned from many passages and themes
in Scripture. However much God stands in judgment over the
world, he also presents himself as the God who invites and com-
17
mands all human beings to repent. He orders his people to carry

the Gospel to the farthest corner of the world, proclaiming it to
men and women everywhere. To rebels the sovereign Lord calls
out, “As surely as I live . . . I take no pleasure in the death of the
wicked, but rather that they turn from their ways and live. Turn!
Turn from your evil ways! Why will you die, O house of Israel?”
(Ezek. 33:11).9
(4) God’s particular, effective, selecting love toward his elect. The
elect may be the entire nation of Israel or the church as a body or
individuals. In each case, God sets his affection on his chosen
ones in a way in which he does not set his affection on others.
The people of Israel are told, “The LORD did not set his affection
on you and choose you because you were more numerous than
other peoples, for you were the fewest of all peoples. But it was
because the LORD loved you and kept the oath he swore to your
forefathers that he brought you out with a mighty hand and
redeemed you from the land of slavery, from the power of
Pharaoh king of Egypt” (Deut. 7:7-8; cf. 4:37). Again: “To the
LORD your God belong the heavens, even the highest heavens,
the earth and everything in it. Yet the LORD set his affection on
your forefathers and loved them, and he chose you, their descen-
dants, above all the nations, as it is today” (10:14-15).
The striking thing about these passages is that when Israel is
contrasted with the universe or with other nations, the distin-
guishing feature has nothing of personal or national merit; it is
nothing other than the love of God. In the very nature of the case,
then, God’s love is directed toward Israel in these passages in a
way in which it is not directed toward other nations.
Obviously, this way of speaking of the love of God is unlike
18
the other three ways of speaking of God’s love that we have

looked at so far. This discriminating feature of God’s love sur-
faces frequently. “I have loved Jacob, but Esau I have hated”
(Mal. 1:2-3), God declares. Allow all the room you like for the
Semitic nature of this contrast, observing that the absolute form
can be a way of articulating absolute preference; yet the fact is
that God’s love in such passages is peculiarly directed toward
the elect.
Similarly in the New Testament: Christ “loved the church”
(Eph. 5:25). Repeatedly the New Testament texts tell us that the
love of God or the love of Christ is directed toward those who con-
stitute the church. To this subject I will return in the fourth chapter.
(5) Finally, God’s love is sometimes said to be directed toward his
own people in a provisional or conditional way—conditioned, that is,
on obedience. It is part of the relational structure of knowing God;
it does not have to do with how we become true followers of the
living God, but with our relationship with him once we do know
him. “Keep yourselves in God’s love,” Jude exhorts his readers
(v. 21), leaving the unmistakable impression that someone might
not keep himself or herself in the love of God. Clearly this is not
God’s providential love; it is pretty difficult to escape that. Nor
is this God’s yearning love, reflecting his salvific stance toward
our fallen race. Nor is it his eternal, elective love. If words mean
anything, one does not, as we shall see, walk away from that love
either.
Jude is not the only one who speaks in such terms. The Lord
Jesus commands his disciples to remain in his love (John 15:9),
and adds, “If you obey my commands, you will remain in my
love, just as I have obeyed my Father’s commands and remain
19
in his love” (John 15:10). To draw a feeble analogy: Although

there is a sense in which my love for my children is immutable,
so help me God, regardless of what they do, there is another
sense in which they know well enough that they must remain in
my love. If for no good reason my teenagers do not get home by
the time I have prescribed, the least they will experience is a
bawling out, and they may come under some restrictive sanc-
tions. There is no use reminding them that I am doing this
because I love them. That is true, but the manifestation of my
love for them when I ground them and when I take them out for
a meal or attend one of their concerts or take my son fishing or
my daughter on an excursion of some sort is rather different in
the two cases. Only the latter will feel much more like remain-
ing in my love than falling under my wrath.
Nor is this a phenomenon of the new covenant alone. The
Decalogue declares God to be the one who shows his love “to a
thousand generations of those who love me and keep my command-
ments” (Exod. 20:6). Yes, “[t]he LORD is compassionate and gra-
cious, slow to anger, abounding in love” (Ps. 103:8). In this
context, his love is set over against his wrath. Unlike some other
texts we shall examine, his people live under his love or under
his wrath, in function of their covenantal faithfulness: “He will
not always accuse, nor will he harbor his anger forever; he does
not treat us as our sins deserve or repay us according to our iniq-
uities. For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is
his love for those who fear him. . . . As a father has compassion on
his children, so the LORD has compassion on those who fear
him. . . . But from everlasting to everlasting the LORD’s love is
with those who fear him . . . with those who keep his covenant and
20
remember to obey his precepts” (Ps. 103:9-11, 13, 17-18). This is the
language of relationship between God and the covenant
community.
I shall conclude this chapter with:
C. Three Preliminary Observations on These

Distinctive Ways of Talking About the Love of God
These three reflections will be teased out a little more in the
remaining chapters. Nevertheless it will be useful to draw some
strands together.
(1) It is easy to see what will happen if any one of these five
biblical ways of talking about the love of God is absolutized and
made exclusive, or made the controlling grid by which the other
ways of talking about the love of God are relativized.
If we begin with the intra-Trinitarian love of God and use that
as the model for all of God’s loving relationships, we shall fail to
observe the distinctions that must be maintained. The love of the
Father for the Son and the love of the Son for the Father are
expressed in a relationship of perfection, untarnished by sin on
either side. However much the intra-Trinitarian love serves, as
we shall see, as a model of the love to be exchanged between
Jesus and his followers, there is no sense in which the love of the
Father redeems the Son, or the love of the Son is expressed in a
relationship of forgiveness granted and received. As precious,
indeed as properly awesome, as the intra-Trinitarian love of
God is, an exclusive focus in this direction takes too little account
of how God manifests himself toward his rebellious image-bear-
ers in wrath, in love, in the cross.
If the love of God is nothing more than his providential
21
ordering of everything, we are not far from a beneficent if some-

what mysterious “force.” It would be easy to integrate that kind
of stance into pantheism or some other form of monism. Green
ecology may thereby be strengthened but not the grand story
line that takes us from creation to new creation to new heaven
and new earth, by way of the cross and resurrection of our
Master.
If the love of God is exclusively portrayed as an inviting,
yearning, sinner-seeking, rather lovesick passion, we may
strengthen the hands of Arminians, semi-Pelagians, Pelagians,
and those more interested in God’s inner emotional life than in
his justice and glory, but the cost will be massive. There is some
truth in this picture of God, as we shall see, some glorious truth.
Made absolute, however, it not only treats complementary texts
as if they were not there, but it steals God’s sovereignty from him
and our security from us. It espouses a theology of grace rather
different from Paul’s theology of grace, and at its worst ends up
with a God so insipid he can neither intervene to save us nor
deploy his chastening rod against us. His love is too “uncondi-
tional” for that. This is a world far removed from the pages of
Scripture.
If the love of God refers exclusively to his love for the elect,
it is easy to drift toward a simple and absolute bifurcation: God
loves the elect and hates the reprobate. Rightly positioned, there
is truth in this assertion; stripped of complementary biblical
truths, that same assertion has engendered hyper-Calvinism. I
use the term advisedly, referring to groups within the Reformed
tradition that have forbidden the free offer of the Gospel.
Spurgeon fought them in his day.10 Their number is not great in
22
America today, but their echoes are found in young Reformed

ministers who know it is right to offer the Gospel freely, but who
have no idea how to do it without contravening some element
in their conception of Reformed theology.11
If the love of God is construed entirely within the kind of dis-
course that ties God’s love to our obedience (e.g., “Keep your-
selves in the love of God”), the dangers threatening us change
once again. True, in a church characterized rather more by per-
sonal preference and antinomianism than godly fear of the Lord,
such passages surely have something to say to us. But divorced
from complementary biblical utterances about the love of God,
such texts may drive us backward toward merit theology, end-
less fretting about whether or not we have been good enough
today to enjoy the love of God—to be free from all the paroxysms
of guilt from which the cross alone may free us.
In short, we need all of what Scripture says on this subject, or
the doctrinal and pastoral ramifications will prove disastrous.
(2) We must not view these ways of talking about the love of
God as independent, compartmentalized, loves of God. It will not
help to begin talking too often about God’s providential love, his
elective love, his intra-Trinitarian love, and so forth, as if each
were hermetically sealed off from the other. Nor can we allow
any one of these ways of talking about the love of God to be
diminished by the others, even as we cannot, on scriptural evi-
dence, allow any one of them to domesticate all the others. God
is God, and he is one. Not only must we gratefully acknowledge
that God in the perfection of his wisdom has thought it best to
provide us with these various ways of talking of his love if we
are to think of him aright, but we must hold these truths together
23
and learn to integrate them in biblical proportion and balance.

We must apply them to our lives and the lives of those to whom
we minister with insight and sensitivity shaped by the way
these truths function in Scripture.
(3) Within the framework established so far, we may well ask
ourselves how well certain evangelical clichés stand up.
(a) “God’s love is unconditional.” Doubtless that is true in the
fourth sense, with respect to God’s elective love. But it is cer-
tainly not true in the fifth sense: God’s discipline of his children
means that he may turn upon us with the divine equivalent of
the “wrath” of a parent on a wayward teenager. Indeed, to cite
the cliché “God’s love is unconditional” to a Christian who is
drifting toward sin may convey the wrong impression and do a
lot of damage. Such Christians need to be told that they will
remain in God’s love only if they do what he says. Obviously,
then, it is pastorally important to know what passages and
themes to apply to which people at any given time. (b) “God
loves everyone exactly the same way.” That is certainly true in
passages belonging to the second category, in the domain of
providence. After all, God sends his sunshine and his rain upon
the just and the unjust alike. But it is certainly not true in pas-
sages belonging to the fourth category, the domain of election.
One or two more clichés will be probed later in these chap-
ters. Already, however, it is clear that what the Bible says about
the love of God is more complex and nuanced than what is
allowed by mere sloganeering.
To sum up: Christian faithfulness entails our responsibility to
grow in our grasp of what it means to confess that God is love.
To this end we devote the remaining chapters.
24
G OD I S LOVE
.,
od is love,” John writes in his first letter (4:8, 16). The bib-
G lical writers treat the love of God as a wonderful thing,
wholly admirable and praiseworthy, even surprising when the
objects of his love are rebellious human beings. But what does
the predication “God is love” actually mean?
We might first ask how we shall find out. An older genera-
tion might have attempted to answer the question primarily
through word studies. Especially prominent was the attempt to
invest the agap
j áw word group with theological weight.
I have discussed some of these matters elsewhere and must
not repeat myself too much here. Still, my book Exegetical
Fallacies1 may not have been inflicted upon you, and the minor
point I wish to make is sufficiently important that a little repeti-
tion will do no harm.
A. How Not to Proceed

In the past many have tried to assign the love of God and,
derivatively, Christian love to one particular word group. The
25
classic treatment is that of Anders Nygren.2 The noun erwy ´j (not

found in the New Testament) refers to sexual love, erotic love;
the oiléw word group refers to emotional love, the love of friend-
ship and feeling. By contrast, the agap
j áw word group refers to
willed love, an act of willed self-sacrifice for the good of another.
It has no necessary emotional component, however generous it
may be. Moreover, it was argued, the reason
the agap
j áw word group became extremely popular in the
Septuagint and subsequently in the New Testament is that writ-
ers in the biblical tradition realized they needed some word
other than those currently available to convey the glorious sub-
stance of the love of the God of Judeo-Christian revelation; so
they deployed this extremely rare word group and filled it with
the content just described, until it triumphed in frequency as
well as in substance.
Whether or not this is a fair description of divine love, we
shall examine in due course. What is now quite clear to almost
everyone who works in the fields of linguistics and semantics is
that such an understanding of love cannot be tied in any univo-
cal way to the agap
j áw word group. Let me briefly list the most
important reasons.
(1) Careful diachronic work has been done on Greek words
for love.3 In the pre-classical Greek tradition, there was a
homonymic clash between two verbs—kunéw, “to kiss,” and
kúnw, “to impregnate.” Certain forms of the two verbs are iden-
tical, e.g., the aorist ekusa
´j . Inevitably, this gave rise to many
salacious puns, which forced kunéw into obsolescence, replaced
by oiléw (which is used, for instance, when Judas kisses Jesus,
Luke 22:47). This meant, of course, that oiléw could be taken to
26
God Is Love
mean “to kiss” or “to love,” which in the Attic period encour-
aged the rise of other words for “to love.” By the end of
that period and the beginning of the Hellenistic era, the
verb agapj áw was one of those verbs, though there is not yet any
evidence of the cognate noun ag j áph. In other words, there are
excellent diachronic reasons in Greek philology to explain the
rise of the agapj áw word group, so one should not rush too
quickly toward theological explanations.
(2) Even within the Septuagint Old Testament, it is far from
clear that the agapj áw word group always refers to some
“higher” or more noble or less emotional form of love. For exam-
ple, in 2 Samuel 13 (LXX), Amnon incestuously rapes his half-sis-
ter Tamar. He “loves” her, we are told. His deed is a vicious act,
transparently sexual, emotional, and violent—and both agap j áw
and oiléw are used.
(3) In the Gospel of John, as I mentioned in the first chapter,
twice we are told that the Father “loves” the Son (3:35; 5:20). The
first time the verb is agap
j áw, while the second it is oiléw. It is
impossible to detect any difference in meaning. Surely it is not
that God is more emotional in the second instance than in the
first. When Paul writes that Demas has deserted him because he
“loved” this present evil world, the verb the apostle chooses
is agap
j áw—an incongruous choice if it refers to willed self-
denial for the sake of the other.
(4) Occasionally someone argues that a distinction must be
maintained between the two verbs because, however synony-
mous they may be in many occurrences, inevitably there is a lit-
tle semantic overhang—i.e., one or the other will be used on
occasions where the other one could not be. As we have seen,
27
oiléw can mean “to kiss”; agap

j áw never has this meaning.
Kissing is part of the semantic overhang of oiléw. This means
that in any context there is always a subtle distinction to be made
between the two verbs, since the total semantic range of the two
is not the same in each case. But although this is a valid argu-
ment for the lexical meaning of the two verbs, it has no bearing
on any concrete passage. This is to fall into the trap of what lin-
guists call “illegitimate totality transfer”—the illegitimate
importing of the entire semantic range of a word into that word
in a particular context.
(5) The best English example is simply the verb love. One may
use it for sexual intercourse, platonic love, emotional love, the
love of God, and more. The context defines and delimits the
word, precisely as it does the verbs for love in the pages of holy
Scripture.
(6) So far as Christian love is concerned, one observes that in
1 Corinthians 13 ag j áph cannot be reduced to willed altruism.
Even believers who give their bodies to be burned or who give
all they have to feed the poor—both willed acts of self-denial for
the sake of others—may do so without love, and according to the
apostle it profits them nothing. The least one must conclude
from this is that Christian love cannot be reduced to willed
altruism.
(7) Although I have never traced it out in detail, I suspect that
the heritage of understanding agap j áw to refer to a willed love
independent of emotion and committed to the other’s good has
been influenced by the schoolmen and other philosophical the-
ologians of a bygone era, who denied there was feeling in God.
To have feeling, they argued, would imply passivity, i.e., a sus-
28
God Is Love
ceptibility to impression from people or events outside himself,

and this is surely incompatible with the very nature of God. Thus
God’s love must be fundamentally different from ours. The only
point of similarity between God’s love and our love, they
argued, is self-communication; it is not emotion or feeling.
Counter evidence found in the Bible (and there is a lot of it!) must
then be marginalized by dismissing it as anthropopathism (the
emotional counterpoint to anthropomorphism). More than a
century ago, Charles Hodge responded:
Here again we have to choose between a mere philosophi-

cal speculation and the clear testimony of the Bible, and of
our own moral and religious nature. Love of necessity
involves feeling, and if there be no feeling in God, there can
be no love. . . . The philosophical objection against ascrib-
ing feeling to God bears . . . with equal force against the
ascription to Him of knowledge or will. If that objection be
valid, He becomes to us simply an unknown cause, what
men of science call force; that to which all phenomena are
to be referred, but of which we know nothing. We must
adhere to the truth in its Scriptural form, or we lose it alto-
gether. We must believe that God is love in the sense in
which that word comes home to every human heart. The
Scriptures do not mock us when they say, “Like as a father
pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear Him”
(Ps. 103:13).4
We may perhaps quibble with the odd phrasing of Hodge’s

words, but his point is well taken. We shall consider the bearing
of all this on the doctrine of impassibility in the next chapter. My
chief point here is that we cannot begin to fathom the nature of
29
the love of God by nothing more penetrating than methodolog-

ically flawed word studies.
B. How to Proceed: Text in Context

What we must do is study passages with great respect for their
contexts, and themes in the Bible with great attention devoted to
their place in the unfolding drama of redemption. The trouble in
this case, of course, is that there are so many of both kinds, pas-
sages and themes, that bear on the love of God that a brief treat-
ment can barely scratch the surface. But a scratched surface is at
least a start, so I shall make one scratch and probe one passage
that gives us a glimpse into the intra-Trinitarian love of God and
provide some rudimentary reflections on the contribution of this
passage to the central theme of this book.
The passage I have in mind is John 5:16-30. Following the
flow of thought uncovers extraordinary insight on the relation
between the Father and the Son. It is one of two passages in this
Gospel where the apostle declares that the Father loves the Son.
Jesus has just healed the paralytic at the pool. He then
instructs the man to pick up his mat and walk (5:8). The healed
man does so and runs afoul of the authorities who charge him
with breaching the Sabbath regulations. Trying to provide clar-
ity to the Mosaic prohibition of work on the Sabbath, Jewish
scholars had developed various halakhoth (rules of conduct),
including the prohibition against carrying any burden outside
your domicile and carrying any burden higher than your shoul-
der, even in your domicile. Such rules became what it means not
to work on the Sabbath. When the man diverts attention away
from himself by blaming Jesus (5:11), official disapproval turns
30
God Is Love
against Jesus because he “was doing these things on the

Sabbath” (5:16). Whether “these things” refers specifically to the
healing or to the advice that had encouraged another man to
engage in a prohibited category of work, or more likely both,
matters little.
Jesus might have replied by engaging in a theological dispute
over the halakhoth. He might have pointed out that the Mosaic
law was not so specific, that he himself was scarcely a medical
doctor trying to earn a little extra by working overtime on the
Sabbath by performing medical procedures that could have
waited until the next day, that the healed man was not a worker
picking up extra pocket money by carrying a mat on the Sabbath.
Any such rejoinder would have met with heavy-duty debate but
not with a charge of blasphemy. Instead, Jesus here avoids all
such arguments and authorizes his own Sabbath activity by say-
ing, “My Father is always at his work to this very day, and I, too,
am working” (5:17).
Two background features must be understood in order to
grasp the implications of this claim.
(1) “Sonship” is very often a functional category in the Bible.
Because the overwhelming majority of sons ended up vocation-
ally doing what their fathers did, “like father, like son” was the
cultural assumption. Jesus assumes as much in the Beatitudes:
“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called sons of God”
(Matt. 5:9). The idea is that God is the supreme Peacemaker, and
so every peacemaker is in that respect like God, and to that
extent God’s “son.” That is also the thinking that stands behind
such monikers as “son of Belial [worthlessness]” and “son of
encouragement.” The unarticulated cultural assumption is that
31
the man in question is either so worthless or so encouraging that

his father must have been, respectively, worthlessness or encour-
agement. So when Jesus claims that his “Father” is “always at his
work to this very day,” he is implicitly claiming to be God’s Son,
with the right to follow the pattern of work that God himself sets
in this regard.
(2) First-century Jewish authorities entered into sustained
theological disputes over whether God kept the Sabbath. One
side said he did; the other denied it, arguing that if God ceased
from all his works on the Sabbath, his works of providence
would stop, and the universe would collapse. But the first side
seems to have been dominant. They argued in return that since
the entire universe is God’s domicile, and since he is so much
bigger than anything in the universe that it can never be said of
him that he raises anything above his own shoulders, therefore
he never performs any work on the Sabbath that breaches
halakhoth, and so he keeps the Sabbath. This means, of course,
that God “works” even on the Sabbath (and so his providential
order is maintained), but that he does not “work” in such a way
as to break the Sabbath. In the nature of the case, of course, this
sort of loophole could apply only to God.
Yet here is Jesus, claiming the right to work on the Sabbath
because God is his Father, and, implicitly, he is the Son who follows
in his Father’s footsteps in this regard. The point is that while
one may be called a son of God for being a peacekeeper, ordinary
mortals cannot rightly be called sons of God in every respect, since
they do not imitate God in every respect. I have not created a uni-
verse recently; certainly I am not a son of God with respect to cre-
atio ex nihilo. The Jews recognized that the loophole that applied
32
God Is Love
to God’s working on the Sabbath was tied to the transcendence

of God and suited him alone. For Jesus to justify his own Sabbath
working by appealing to God as his Father was to make a stu-
pendous claim. Now he was not only breaking the Sabbath, the
Jews reasoned, “but he was even calling God his own Father,
making himself equal with God” (5:18).
They were right, of course, but also slightly mistaken. Almost
certainly they thought of Jesus setting himself up in parallel with
God, another God-center. Implicitly the charge was blasphemy,
and the construction was ditheism. In his reply in the following
verses, Jesus provides the raw materials that preserve his equal-
ity with God while never sanctioning ditheism. In short, he pro-
vides the raw stuff of Christian monotheism. Along the way, he
says some extraordinarily important things about the love of
God. We cannot here take the time to follow his argument in
great detail, but we may skip through the text and trace the fol-
lowing points.
(1) Jesus denies that he is setting himself over against God as
an alternative to God. Far from it: he is entirely dependent on the
Father and subordinate to him—yet it turns out to be an aston-
ishing subordination. On the one hand: “I tell you the truth, the
Son can do nothing by himself; he can do only what he sees his
Father doing” (5:19a). Thus he never threatens the Father with
competition as a divine alternative. On the other hand, he can do
only what he sees his Father doing, “because whatever the Father
does the Son also does” (5:19b). Here is a claim to deity slipped
through the back door. It is one thing to claim to be like God in
a role as peacemaker; it is another to claim to do whatever the
Father does. Indeed, take seriously the connection between the
33
two clauses, and Jesus actually grounds his functional subordi-

nation in his claim to coextensive action with his Father. He can
do only what he sees the Father doing (subordination) because
(gár) he does whatever the Father does (coextensive action).
That makes his sonship unique.
(2) The next verse (5:20) tells us why it is that the Son does
everything the Father does. Whatever the Father does, the Son
also does, we are told (5:19b), for (gár, 5:20) the Father loves the
Son and shows him all he does. Here the preindustrial model of
the agrarian village or the craftsman’s shop is presupposed,
with a father carefully showing his son all that he does so that
the family tradition is preserved. Stradivarius Senior shows
Stradivarius Junior all there is to know about making violins—
selecting the wood, the exact proportions, the cuts, the glue, how
to add precisely the right amount of arsenic to the varnish, and
so forth. Stradivarius Senior does this because he loves
Stradivarius Junior. So also here: Jesus is so uniquely and
unqualifiedly the Son of God that the Father shows him all he
does, out of sheer love for him, and the Son, however dependent on
his Father, does everything the Father does.
(3) Within the framework of Johannine theology, there are
two enormously important entailments. First, the Son by his obe-
dience to his Father, doing only what God gives him to do and
saying only what God gives him to say, yet doing such things in
function of his ability to do whatever the Father does, acts in such
a way as to reveal God perfectly. In other words, if the Son acted
in line with the Father sometimes and did his own thing on other
occasions, we would not be able to tell which of Jesus’ actions
and words disclose God. But it is precisely his unqualified obe-
34
God Is Love
dience to and his dependence upon his Father that ensure that
his revelation to us is perfect. Far from threatening the Son’s per-
fections or jeopardizing his revelation of God to us, his func-
tional subordination ensures his perfections and establishes his
revelation. Second, this marvelous self-disclosure of the Father in
the Son turns, ultimately, not on God’s love for us, but on the
Father’s love for his unique Son. It is because the Father loves the
Son that this pattern of divine self-disclosure pertains.
We too quickly think of our salvation almost exclusively with
respect to its bearing on us. Certainly there is endless ground for
wonder in the Father’s love for us, in Jesus’ love for us. (We shall
return to these themes in due course.) But undergirding them,
more basic than they are, is the Father’s love for the Son. Because
of the love of the Father for the Son, the Father has determined
that all should honor the Son even as they honor the Father (John
5:23). Indeed, this love of the Father for the Son is what makes
sense of John 3:16. True, “God so loved the world that he gave
his one and only Son”—there the object of God’s love is the
world. But the standard that tells us just how great that love is
has already been set. What is its measure? God so loved that
world that he gave his Son. Paul’s reasoning is similar: If God did
not spare his Son, how shall he not also with him freely give us
all things (Rom. 8:32)? The argument is cogent only because the
relationship between the Father and the Son is the standard for
all other love relationships.
(4) Before I press on with the flow of the argument in this pas-
sage, this is the place to reflect as well on the Son’s love for his
Father. This theme does not overtly surface here, but it does else-
where in John’s Gospel. Because the Son always does the things
35
that please him, the Father has not left him alone (8:29). Indeed,
the perfection of the Son’s obedience (he always does what the
Father has commanded him, 14:31) is grounded in his love for
the Father (14:31).
(5) The evangelist has told us that the Father loves the Son, a
love manifest in the Father showing the Son all he does (5:20a).
Indeed, the Father will show the Son “even greater things than
these [“these” referring, presumably, to the things that Jesus has
already done]. For just as the Father raises the dead and gives
them life, even so the Son gives life to whom he is pleased to give
it” (5:20b-21). It is the prerogative of God alone to kill and make
alive. In the past God occasionally used human agents in the
resuscitation of someone (e.g., Elijah). Jesus is different. Because
the Father has “shown” him this, Jesus raises the dead as he
pleases, just as the Father does.
It would be theologically profitable to pursue the line of
argument in the text all the way to verse 30. But although that
would tell us more about the nature of the Godhead, it would
not greatly develop our understanding of the love of God in the
Godhead. So I must draw this discussion to a close with two
observations.
C. Some Concluding Synthetic Reflections

First, it has sometimes been argued that the label “the Son” is
rightly attached only to the incarnate Word, not to the Word in
his pre-incarnate glory.5 This view has sometimes sought sup-
port from this passage. There seems to be progress in time as the
Father “shows” things to “the Son,” showing him resurrection
later than other things—and this surely means that all of this
36
God Is Love
“showing” to the Son is tied up with the incarnational state of

the Son.
Nevertheless: (1) The same passage argues that the Son does
whatever the Father does. If this “whatever” is comprehensive, it
must include creation, which ties this Son to the Word who is
God’s agent in creation (John 1:2-3). If that is the case, then in
addition to the Father “showing” the Son things in eternity past
(hence the Son’s agency in creation), the Father also “showed”
him things, step by step, in his incarnate state, which served as
the precise trigger for what Jesus in the days of his flesh actually
did, and when.
(2) The obvious reading of texts such as John 3:17 (“For God
did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but
to save the world through him”) is that the person sent was the
Son when the Father sent him. True, such language could plau-
sibly be anachronistic. If I say, “My wife was born in England
several decades ago,” I do not imply that she was my wife when
she was born. I have heard of robbing the cradle, but this is
ridiculous. But such exceptions are normally clear from the con-
text. In a book that has already introduced the preexistence of the
Word (1:1, 14), the natural reading of 3:17 is that “the Son” is an
alternative appellation for that Word, not that this is a tag only
for his incarnational existence.
(3) Had I time, I think I could demonstrate that John 5:26
most plausibly reads as an eternal grant from the Father to the
Son, which inherently transcends time and stretches Jesus’
sonship into eternity past. When the text says that the Father
has “life in himself,” the most natural understanding where
the subject is God is that this refers to God’s self-existence. He
37
is not dependent on anyone or anything: he has “life in

himself.”
Then we are told that God, who has “life in himself,” “has
granted the Son to have life in himself.” This is conceptually far
more difficult. If the text said that the Father, who has “life in
himself,” had granted to the Son to have life, there would be no
conceptual difficulty, but of course the Son would then be an
entirely secondary and derivative being. What would later
become the doctrine of the Trinity would be ruled out.
Alternatively, if the text said that the Father has “life in him-
self,” and the Son has “life in himself,” there would be no con-
ceptual difficulty, but it would be much harder to rule out
ditheism. In fact, what the text says is that the Father has “life in
himself,” and he has granted to the Son to have “life in himself.”
The expression “life in himself” really must mean the same thing
in both parts of the verse. But how can such “life in himself,” the
life of self-existence, be granted by another?
The ancient explanation still seems to me the best one: this is
an eternal grant. There was therefore never a time when the Son
did not have “life in himself.” This eternal grant establishes the
nature of the eternal relationship between the Father and the
Son. But if this is correct, since Father and Son have always been
in this relationship, the Sonship of Jesus is not restricted to the
days of his flesh.
(4) There are texts in which Jesus addresses God as Father
(and thus implicitly thinks of himself as the Son) in terms of
shared experience in eternity past (notably John 17:5: “Father,
glorify me in your presence with the glory I had with you before
the world began”).
38
God Is Love
It follows, then, that the love of the Father for the Son, and the
love of the Son for the Father, which we have been considering,
cannot be restricted to the peculiar relationship that pertained
from the Incarnation on, but is intrinsically intra-Trinitarian.
What we have, then, is a picture of God whose love, even in
eternity past, even before the creation of anything, is other-
oriented. This cannot be said (for instance) of Allah. Yet because
the God of the Bible is one, this plurality-in-unity does not
destroy his entirely appropriate self-focus as God. As we shall
see in the last chapter, because he is God, he is therefore rightly
jealous. To concede he is something other than the center of all,
and rightly to be worshiped and adored, would debase his very
Godhood. He is the God who, entirely rightly, does not give his
glory to another (Isa. 42:8).
If this were all the Bible discloses about God, we would read
in its pages of a holy God of impeccable justice. But what of love?
The love of Allah is providential, which, as we saw in the first
chapter, is one of the ways the Bible speaks of God. But here
there is more: in eternity past, the Father loved the Son, and the
Son loved the Father. There has always been an other-orientation
to the love of God. All the manifestations of the love of God
emerge out of this deeper, more fundamental reality: love is
bound up in the very nature of God. God is love.
Second, mark well the distinction between the love of the
Father for the Son and the love of the Son for the Father. The
Father commands, sends, tells, commissions—and demonstrates
his love for the Son by “showing” him everything, such that the
Son does whatever the Father does. The Son obeys, says only
what the Father gives him to say, does only what the Father gives
39
him to do, comes into the world as the Sent One—and demon-
strates his love for the Father precisely by such obedience. Not
once is there any hint that the Son commissions the Father, who
obeys. Not once is there a hint that the Father submits to the Son
or is dependent upon him for his own words and deeds.
Historically, Christians avoiding the trap of Arianism have
insisted that the Son is equal with God in substance or essence,
but that there is an economic or functional subordination of the
Son to the Father.6
What is of interest to us for our topic is the way the texts dis-
tinguish how the love of the Father for the Son is manifested, and
how the love of the Son for the Father is manifested—and then
how such love further functions as lines are drawn outward to
elements of Christian conduct and experience. These function in
various ways. There is space to reflect on only one of them.
In John 15, Jesus tells his disciples, “As the Father has loved
me, so have I loved you” (15:9). Thus we move from the intra-
Trinitarian love of the Father for the Son, to the Son’s love of his
people in redemption. Jesus thus becomes the mediator of his
Father’s love. Receiving love, so has he loved. Then he adds,
“Now remain in my love. If you obey my commands, you will
remain in my love, just as I have obeyed my Father’s commands
and remain in his love” (15:9b-10).
Reflect on the parallelism. The perfection of Jesus’ obedience
in the Godhead, which we have just been told is the mark of the
Son’s love for his Father (14:31), is precisely what it means for the
eternal Son to remain in the love the Father has for him. This is
a relational matter (i.e., the Father and the Son are related to each
other in this way), but it is also a constitutional matter (i.e., that is
40
God Is Love
the way God Almighty is constituted). This pattern of love, both

relational and constitutional, in the very being of God becomes,
according to Jesus, the model and incentive of our relation to
Jesus. If we love him, we will obey him (14:15); here, if we obey
him, we remain in his love. And thereby our relation to Jesus
mirrors the relation of Jesus to his heavenly Father—which is of
course a major theme in John 17.
Then the passage explicitly harks back to John 5, which we
have been thinking through. Jesus says, “You are my friends if
you do what I command. I no longer call you servants, because
a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have
called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have
made known to you” (15:14-15).
Observe that Jesus makes a distinction between slaves
(douvloi; not “servants”) and friends. But the distinction initially
surprises us. We are Jesus’ friends if we do what he commands.
This sounds rather like a definition of a slave. Certainly such
friendship is not reciprocal. I cannot turn around to Jesus and
thank him for his friendship and tell him he is my friend, too, if
he does everything I command him. Strange to tell, not once is
Jesus or God ever described in the Bible as our friend. Abraham
is God’s friend; the reverse is never stated.
Of course, in one sense Jesus is the best friend a poor sinner
ever had. Nevertheless, that is not the terminology of Scripture,
almost as if the Bible is reluctant to descend into the kind of
cheap intimacy that brings God or Jesus down to our level. In
this context, what then is the difference that Jesus is drawing
between slave and friend? Our culture teaches that the slave
41
obeys, and the friend may or may not; clearly, however, that is
not the distinction Jesus has in mind.
He says we are his friends because he has made known to us
all that he learned from his Father. An army colonel tells a GI to
fetch the hummer. If the GI says he will do so only if the colonel
tells him exactly why and gives him permission to use it as a run-
about while the colonel spends his time at HQ, that GI is asking
for about six months of KP duty. But suppose the colonel has
been a friend of the GI’s family for years and has watched the
young man grow up. He may say to the GI, “Jim, fetch the hum-
mer, please. I need you to drive me to HQ. I’ll be there about two
hours. You can use the vehicle in that gap, provided you’re back
to pick me up at 1600 hours.” In this case, of course, the GI is
required no less to obey the colonel. The difference, the differ-
ence of friendship, is that full information has been conveyed. It
is an informational difference, a difference of revelation, not a
difference of obedience.
God’s people are no longer slaves. At this point in redemp-
tive history, the fullness of God’s revelation has come to us in the
Son who was perfectly obedient and thereby perfectly disclosed
God. We are no longer slaves (a redemptive-historical marker),
but friends. And what has brought this change about is that in
the fullness of time God sent his Son into the world, and the Son
obeyed; that the Father in love for the Son determined that all
should honor the Son even as they honor the Father; and Father
and Son, in perfect harmony of plan and vision, at the time God
ordained, played out their roles—the Father sending, commis-
sioning, “showing,” and the Son coming, revealing, disclosing
what had been “shown” him, and in obedience going to the
42
God Is Love
cross. And we the heirs of the new covenant are unfathomably

privileged to be let in on this stupendous plan. We are the friends
of God.
We are the friends of God by virtue of the intra-Trinitarian
love of God that so worked out in the fullness of time that the
plan of redemption, conceived in the mind of God in eternity
past, has exploded into our space-time history at exactly the
right moment. When the time had fully come, as Paul puts it,
God sent his Son (Gal. 4:4). And we have been incalculably priv-
ileged not only to be saved by God’s love, but to be shown it, to
be informed about it, to be let in on the mind of God. God is love;
and we are the friends of God.
43
G OD ’ S LOVE AND
G OD ’ S S OVEREIGNTY
.,
et me sum up. In the first chapter I outlined some factors that

L make the doctrine of the love of God a difficult thing to talk
about. Some of these are cultural; others are bound up with the
challenge of trying to integrate the many varied and comple-
mentary things the Bible says about the love of God. Further,
what does such love look like in a God who is omnipotent,
omniscient, sovereign, and transcendent (i.e., above space and
time)? Then I briefly outlined five different ways the Bible
speaks of the love of God—his intra-Trinitarian love, his provi-
dential love, his yearning and salvific love that pleads with sin-
ners, his elective love, and his conditional love—and indicated
what could go wrong if any one of them is absolutized.
In the second chapter we reflected a little on a few texts that
disclose the intra-Trinitarian love of God, and we thought
through a few of the implications.
Here the focus will be on God’s love for human beings, but
especially in relation to his own transcendence and sovereignty.
To organize the material, I shall try to establish three points.
45
A. The Affective Element in God’s Love

We have already reflected a little on attempts to strip God’s love
of affective content and make it no more than willed commitment
to the other’s good. The philology does not support this view; nor
does 1 Corinthians 13, where the apostle insists it is possible to
deploy the most stupendous altruism without love. But it is
worth pausing to hear some specific texts where the vibrant,
affective element in the love of God is almost overpowering.
One of the most striking passages is Hosea 11. Of course, the
entire prophecy of Hosea is an astonishing portrayal of the love of
God. Almighty God is likened to a betrayed and cuckolded hus-
band. But the intensity of God’s passion for the covenant nation
comes to a climax in Hosea 11. “When Israel was a child,” God
declares, “I loved him, and out of Egypt I called my son” (11:1).
The Exodus thus marks the origin of this covenant relationship.
But the more God called Israel, the more they drifted away.
God was the one who cared for them, taught them to walk, and
healed them. He was the one who “led them with cords of
human kindness” (11:4). Yet they did not recognize him. They
sacrificed to the Baals and loved idolatry. So God promises judg-
ment. They will return to “Egypt” and Assyria, i.e., to captivity
and slavery, “because they refuse to repent” (11:5). Their cities
will be destroyed (11:6). “My people are determined to turn from
me. Even if they call to the Most High, he will by no means exalt
them” (11:7). Thus it sounds as if implacable judgment has been
pronounced.
But then it is almost as if God cannot endure the thought. In
an agony of emotional intensity, God cries,
46
God’s Love and God’s Sovereignty
“How can I give you up, Ephraim?

How can I hand you over, Israel? . . .
How can I make you like Zeboiim?
My heart is changed within me;
all my compassion is aroused.
I will not carry out my fierce anger,
nor will I turn and devastate Ephraim.
For I am God, and not man—
the Holy One among you.
I will not come in wrath.
They will follow the LORD;
he will roar like a lion.
When he roars,
his children will come trembling
from the west.
They will come trembling
like birds from Egypt,
like doves from Assyria.
I will settle them in their homes,”
declares the LORD.
The passage as a whole means that the promised impending

judgment will not be the last word. Exile will be followed by
return from exile. In the entire context, when God declares that his
heart is changed within him and all his compassion is aroused, he
does not mean that he has changed his mind and Israel will be
spared the punishment he decreed a few verses earlier. Rather, it
is that any long-term threat of permanent judgment must be set
aside. God will bring them back from Egypt and Assyria.
At one level, this is common fare among the pre-exilic
prophets. It is the emotional intensity of this passage that draws
47
one’s attention. Yet we should not be surprised. God repeatedly

discloses himself to be a jealous God (as in the Decalogue), the
God who abounds in “love and faithfulness”—that glorious pair
of words constantly repeated in the Old Testament and intoned
to Moses as he hid in a cleft of the rock until he was permitted to
peek out and glimpse something of the afterglow of the glory of
God (Exod. 34:6). God grieves (Ps. 78:40; Eph. 4:30); he rejoices
(Isa. 62:5); his wrath burns hot against his foes (Exod. 32:10); he
pities (Ps. 103:13). And as we have seen, he loves—indeed, with
an everlasting love (Isa. 54:8; Ps. 103:17).
We may look at the love of God from still another perspective.
In passages such as 1 John 4:7-11, believers are urged to love one
another since love is of God; indeed, God is love. The high point
in the demonstration of God’s love is his sending of his Son as the
“atoning sacrifice” for our sins. “Dear friends,” John concludes,
“since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another” (4:11).
Do you see the point? Whatever the distinctive elements in the
love of God, the same word is used for God’s love and the
Christian’s love, and God’s love is both the model and the incen-
tive of our love. Doubtless God’s love is immeasurably richer
than ours, in ways still to be explored, but they belong to the same
genus, or the parallelisms could not be drawn.
Many Christian traditions affirm the impassibility of God.
The Westminster Confession of Faith asserts that God is “with-
out . . . passions.” If this is taken to mean that God is emotion-
less, it is profoundly unbiblical and should be repudiated. But
the most learned discussion over impassibility is never so sim-
plistic. Although Aristotle may exercise more than a little
scarcely recognized influence upon those who uphold impassi-
48
bility, at its best impassibility is trying to avoid a picture of a God

who is changeable, given over to mood swings, dependent upon
his creatures. Our passions shape our direction and frequently
control our will. What shall we say of God?
That brings us to the second point.
B. The Sovereignty and Transcendence of God

Here it will be helpful to organize what I wish to say into five
parts. Initially you will have to take my word for it that this is
not an excursus but highly relevant to our reflections on the love
of God. Much of what I say in the next few paragraphs is no
more than a spotty review. But it is essential to what will follow.
(1) God is utterly sovereign (he is both omnipotent and
omniscient), and he is transcendent (in himself he exists above
time and space, i.e., above the created order with its intrinsic lim-
itations). God is omnipotent; i.e., he is able to do anything he
wishes to do. Nothing is too hard for him (Jer. 32:17); he is the
Almighty (2 Cor. 6:18; Rev. 1:8). Jesus insists that with God all
things are possible (Matt. 19:26). His sovereignty extends over
the mighty movements of the stars in their courses, over the fall
of a sparrow, over the exact count of the hairs of my head. If you
throw a pair of dice, what numbers come up lies in the determi-
nation of God (Prov. 16:3). Ecclesiastes shows that the ancients
knew of the water cycle, but still the biblical writers preferred to
say that God sends the rain. He is not the distant God espoused
by deism. Through the exalted Son he upholds all things by his
powerful word (Heb. 1:3); indeed, he “works out everything in
conformity with the purpose of his will” (Eph. 1:11). This control
extends as much to sentient beings as to inanimate objects. He
49
can turn the heart of the king in any direction he sees fit (Prov.
21:1). He is the potter who has the right to make out of the same
lump of clay some pottery for noble purposes and some for com-
mon use (Rom. 9:21). There can be no degrees of difficulty with
an omnipotent God.
Moreover he enjoys all knowledge. He not only knows every-
thing—he even knows what might have been under different cir-
cumstances (more or less what philosophers call “middle
knowledge”), and takes that into account when he judges (Matt.
11:20-24). There are plenty of examples where God knows what
we now label free contingent future decisions (e.g., 1 Sam. 23:11-
13). God’s knowledge is perfect (Job 37:16). “He does not have
to reason to conclusions or ponder carefully before he answers,
for he knows the end from the beginning, and he never learns
and never forgets anything (cf. Ps. 90:4; 2 Peter 3:8).”1 Precisely
because he is the Creator of the universe, he must be indepen-
dent from it. Indeed, in fine expressions that stretch our imagi-
nation, Isaiah affirms that God the high and lofty one “lives
forever” (Isa. 57:15) or “inhabits eternity” (RSV).
(2) God’s sovereignty extends to election. Election may refer
to God’s choice of the nation of Israel, or to God’s choice of all
the people of God, or to God’s choice of individuals. God’s
choice of individuals may be for salvation or for some particu-
lar mission. Election is so important to God that he actually
arranged to choose the younger of the two sons, Jacob and Esau,
before they were born and therefore before either had done any-
thing good or bad, “in order that God’s purpose in election
might stand” (Rom. 9:11).
Even the highly diverse ways in which new converts are
50
described in the book of Acts reflects the comfortable, unem-

barrassed way New Testament writers refer to election. We
often speak of people who “accept Jesus as their personal
Savior”—words not found in Scripture, though not necessarily
wrong as a synthetic expression. But Acts may sum up some
strategic evangelism by reporting that “all who were appointed
for eternal life believed” (Acts 13:48). Writing of Christians, Paul
says that God “chose us in him [i.e., Christ] before the creation
of the world. . . . [H]e predestined us to be adopted as his sons
through Jesus Christ” (Eph. 1:4-5; cf. Rev. 13:7-8; 17:8). Indeed,
God chose the Thessalonian converts from the beginning to be
saved (2 Thess. 2:13).
God’s election even extends to angels (1 Tim. 5:21)—which
shows that election need not be tied to salvation (since there has
arisen a Redeemer for fallen human beings but not for fallen
angels), but is properly a function of God’s sweeping
sovereignty. We are a chosen race (1 Pet. 2:9).
Moreover, the Lord’s electing love is immutable. All that the
Father has given to the Son will come to him, and the Son will
lose none of them, we are told, because he came down from
heaven to do the Father’s will—and this is the Father’s will, that
he should lose none of those the Father has given him (John 6:37-
40). In other words, for the Son to lose any of those the Father has
given him, he would have to be either unable or unwilling to
obey his Father’s explicit command. Small wonder, then, that we
read that Jesus knows his own sheep, and no one shall pluck
them out of his hand.
(3) Christians are not fatalists. The central line of Christian
tradition neither sacrifices the utter sovereignty of God nor
51
reduces the responsibility of his image-bearers. In the realm of

philosophical theology, this position is sometimes called compat-
ibilism. It simply means that God’s unconditioned sovereignty
and the responsibility of human beings are mutually compatible.
It does not claim to show you how they are compatible. It claims
only that we can get far enough in the evidence and the argu-
ments to show how they are not necessarily incompatible, and
that it is therefore entirely reasonable to think they are compati-
ble if there is good evidence for them.2
The biblical evidence is compelling. When Joseph tells his
fearful brothers that when they sold him into slavery, God
intended it for good while they intended it for evil (Gen. 50:19-
20), he is assuming compatibilism. He does not picture the event
as wicked human machination into which God intervened to
bring forth good. Nor does he imagine God’s intention had been
to send him down there with a fine escort and a modern chariot
but that unfortunately the brothers had mucked up the plan, and
so poor old Joseph had to go down there as a slave—sorry about
that. Rather, in one and the same event, God was operating, and
his intentions were good, and the brothers were operating, and
their intentions were evil.
When God addresses Assyria in Isaiah 10:5ff., he tells them
that they are nothing more than tools in his hand to punish the
wicked nation of Israel. However, because that is not the way
they see it, because they think they are doing all this by their own
strength and power, the Lord will turn around and tear them to
pieces to punish their hubris after he has finished using them as
a tool. That is compatibilism. There are dozens and dozens of
such passages in Scripture, scattered through both Testaments.
52
Perhaps the most striking instance of compatibilism occurs in

Acts 4:23-29. The church has suffered its first whiff of persecu-
tion. Peter and John report what has happened. The church
prays to God in the language of Psalm 2. Their prayer continues
(4:27-28): “Indeed Herod and Pontius Pilate met together with
the Gentiles and the people of Israel in this city to conspire
against your holy servant Jesus, whom you anointed. They did
what your power and will had decided beforehand should hap-
pen.” Note carefully: On the one hand, there was a terrible con-
spiracy that swept along Herod, Pilate, Gentile authorities, and
Jewish leaders. It was a conspiracy, and they should be held
accountable. On the other hand, they did what God’s power and
will had decided beforehand should happen.
A moment’s reflection discloses that any other account of
what happened would destroy biblical Christianity. If we picture
the crucifixion of Jesus Christ solely in terms of the conspiracy of
the local political authorities at the time, and not in terms of God’s
plan (save perhaps that he came in at the last moment and
decided to use the death in a way he himself had not foreseen),
then the entailment is that the cross was an accident of history.
Perhaps it was an accident cleverly manipulated by God in his
own interests, but it was not part of the divine plan. In that case,
the entire pattern of antecedent predictive revelation is
destroyed: Yom Kippur, the Passover lamb, the sacrificial system,
and so forth. Rip Hebrews out of your Bible, for a start.3
On the other hand, if someone were to stress God’s
sovereignty in Jesus’ death, exulting that all the participants “did
what [God’s] power and will had decided beforehand should
happen” (4:28), while forgetting that it was a wicked conspiracy,
53
then Herod and Pilate and Judas Iscariot and the rest are exon-
erated of evil. If God’s sovereignty means that all under it are
immune from charges of transgression, then all are immune. In
that case there is no sin for which atonement is necessary. So why
the cross? Either way, the cross is destroyed.
In short, compatibilism is a necessary component to any
mature and orthodox view of God and the world. Inevitably it
raises important and difficult questions regarding secondary
causality, how human accountability should be grounded, and
much more. I cannot probe those matters here.
(4) We must briefly pause to reflect on God’s immutability, his
unchangeableness. “But you remain the same, and your years
will never end,” writes the psalmist (Ps. 102:27). “I the LORD do
not change” (Mal. 3:6), the Almighty declares. The entailment is
that his purposes are secure and their accomplishment inevitable.
“Remember this, fix it in mind, take it to heart, you rebels.
Remember the former things, those of long ago; I am God, and
there is no other; I am God, and there is none like me. I make
known the end from the beginning, from ancient times, what is
still to come. I say: My purpose will stand, and I will do all that I
please. . . . What I have said, that will I bring about; what I have
planned, that will I do” (Isa. 46:8-11). “But the plans of the LORD
stand firm forever, the purposes of his heart through all genera-
tions” (Ps. 33:11; cf. Matt. 13:35; 25:34; Eph. 1:4, 11; 1 Pet. 1:20).
Rightly conceived, God’s immutability is enormously impor-
tant. It engenders stability and elicits worship. Bavinck writes:
The doctrine of God’s immutability is of the highest signifi-

cance for religion. The contrast between being and becoming
54
marks the difference between the Creator and the creature.

Every creature is continually becoming. It is changeable, con-
stantly striving, seeks rest and satisfaction, and finds rest in
God, in him alone, for only he is pure being and no becom-
ing. Hence, in Scripture God is often called the Rock. . . .4
Yet when God’s immutability is carefully discussed, theolo-

gians acknowledge that he is not immutable in every possible
way or domain. He is unchanging in his being, purposes, and
perfections. But this does not mean he cannot interact with his
image-bearers in their time. The purposes of God from eternity
past were to send the Son, but at a set moment in our time-space
continuum the Son was actually incarnated. Even the most
superficial reading of Scripture discloses God to be a personal
Being who interacts with us. None of this is meant to be ruled
out by immutability.
(5) Before I press on, I must frankly acknowledge that this
sketch of God is coming under increasing attack, not only from
numerous process theologians whose primary recourse is to
philosophical analysis and synthesis, but also from some who
seek to ground their work in the Bible. This view is now some-
times called the “open” view of God.5 Sophisticated responses are
now beginning to appear, though I cannot track the debate here.
But some of these writers appeal to the approximately thirty-five
texts where God is clearly said to “repent” (KJV) or “relent” (NIV)
or change his mind. What shall we make of these texts?
God relents over a step he has already taken (Gen. 6:6-7; 1 Sam.
15:11, 35). He relents over what he has said he would do or even
started doing (Pss. 90:13; 106:44-45; Jer. 18:7-10; 26:3, 13, 19; Joel
55
2:13-14; Jonah 3:9-10; 4:2), sometimes in response to the prayer of

an intercessor (Exod. 32:12-14; Amos 7:3-6). For those in the “open-
ness of God” camp, these sorts of texts control the discussion, and
the passages already discussed that affirm God’s immutability are
the ones that must be softened or explained away.
I do not see how this can be responsibly done.6 Many of these
texts relate to God’s refusing to destroy some party because that
party has repented (e.g., God relenting in the matter of destroy-
ing Nineveh because the city repents, Jonah 3:9-10). Mind you,
some of the prophets tell their readers that that is what God’s
purpose has been all along when he makes such threats (e.g.,
Ezek. 3:16-21; 33). This is simply a way of saying that God’s pur-
poses are immutable when the situation is such and such; his
purposes are different for a different set of circumstances. As for
God relenting in response to the prayers of his people, one can-
not think of such prayer warriors arising apart from God raising
them up, whether Moses or Amos; yet on the other hand, he con-
demns the people for not producing intercessors in the hour of
need (e.g., Ezek. 22:30-31). This is compatibilism: the same com-
ponents recur. God remains sovereign over everything, and his
purposes are good; he interacts with human beings; human
beings sometimes do things well, impelled by God’s grace, and
he gets the credit; we frequently do things that are wicked, and
although we never escape the outermost bounds of God’s
sovereignty, we alone are responsible and must take the blame.
I do not claim that any of this is easy or straightforward.
Sooner or later one retreats into the recognition that, so far as we
are concerned, there are some mysteries in the very Being of
God. The deepest of these, I think, are tied to the fact that God
56
as he has disclosed himself in Scripture is simultaneously

sovereign/transcendent and personal.
Let me unpack each of these two poles. First, with respect to
God’s sovereignty and transcendence, clearly we cannot experi-
ence at some personal level what it means to be utterly sovereign
or genuinely transcendent. We are finite creatures tied to time
and space, with impregnable limitations on our authority and
power. But we can do two things: (a) We can extrapolate what
authority and power mean until we glimpse in imagination
what absolute sovereignty means, and we see that that is what
Scripture ascribes to God. (b) Sometimes we can proceed by
reflective negations. As little as we know about time and space,
we can roughly imagine what transcendence means by such a
series of negations (transcendence is not being tied to time; it is
not being tied to space), and we see that the Bible can talk about
God that way.
Second, by way of contrast, “personal” in our experience is so
tied to finite beings interacting with finite beings that it is diffi-
cult for us to attach “personal” to God. If I enter into a “personal”
friendship with you, I ask questions, get to know you, share
things with you, find myself rebuked by you, rebuke you in
return, surprise you, listen to your conversation—learn what I
did not know, and so on. Sequence and finitude are presup-
posed. And you experience the same things at the other end of
this “personal” relationship.
But what does it mean to have a personal relationship with
the transcendent, sovereign God? We cannot easily imagine this,
whether by extrapolation of our finite experience or by strategic nega-
tions. We can see from his gracious revelation in Scripture and in
57
Jesus himself that this God is personal, but it is difficult for us to

conceive exactly what that means. Lose that element, and you
retreat into deism or pantheism or worse. We must maintain an
active insistence on his personhood, but if we remain faithful to
Scripture, we end up acknowledging some profound mysteries.
God’s sovereign transcendence and his personhood are both
maintained in the Bible. They are both parts of the givens. Elevate
his personhood to the exclusion of his transcendent sovereignty,
and sooner or later you have a finite God, progressively reduced,
and certainly not the God of the Bible. You destroy one of the
givens. That is the track being adopted by the proponents of the
“open” God portrait. Here I can do no more than firmly set it
aside in favor of biblical compatibilism and press on toward my
third point.
C. A Rightly Constrained Impassibility

We are now in a position to reflect on the affective element in the
love of God and its relation to God in his transcendence and
sovereignty. We might provocatively ask: If God is utterly
sovereign, and if he is utterly all-knowing, what space is left for
emotions as we think of them? The divine oracles that picture
God in pain or joy or love surely seem a little out of place, do
they not, when this God knows the end from the beginning, can-
not be surprised, and remains in charge of the whole thing
anyway?
From such a perspective, is it not obvious that the doctrine of
the love of God is difficult?
It is no answer to espouse a form of impassibility that denies
that God has an emotional life and that insists that all of the bib-
58
lical evidence to the contrary is nothing more than anthro-

popathism. The price is too heavy. You may then rest in God’s
sovereignty, but you can no longer rejoice in his love. You may
rejoice only in a linguistic expression that is an accommodation
of some reality of which we cannot conceive, couched in the
anthropopathism of love. Give me a break. Paul did not pray that
his readers might be able to grasp the height and depth and
length and breadth of an anthropopathism and know this
anthropopathism that surpasses knowledge (Eph. 3:14-21).
Nor is it adequate to suggest a solution that insists that the
immanent Trinity (which refers to God as he is in himself, tran-
scendent from the creation and focusing on his internal acts) is
utterly impassible, while the economic Trinity (which refers to
God as he is immanent in his creation, focusing solely on God’s
deeds outside of himself and in relation to his creation) does
indeed suffer, including the suffering of love.7 I worry over such
a great divorce between God as he is in himself and God as he
interacts with the created order. Such distinctions have heuristic
usefulness now and then, but the resulting synthesis in this case
is so far removed from what the Bible actually says that I fear we
are being led down a blind alley. If because the Father loves the
Son and the Son loves the Father, we affirm the love of God as
he is in himself (the immanent Trinity), how is that love of God
connected with the love of God as he interacts with the world
(the economic Trinity), which is clearly a vulnerable love that
feels the pain and pleads for repentance? John, after all, clearly
connects the two.
Yet before we utterly write off the impassibility of God, we
must gratefully recognize what that doctrine is seeking to pre-
59
serve. It is trying to ward off the kind of sentimentalizing views

of the love of God and of other emotions (“passions”) in God that
ultimately make him a souped-up human being but no more.
For instance, a God who is terribly vulnerable to the pain caused
by our rebellion is scarcely a God who is in control or a God who
is so perfect he does not, strictly speaking, need us. The modern
therapeutic God may be superficially attractive because he
appeals to our emotions, but the cost will soon be high. Implicitly
we start thinking of a finite God. God himself is gradually dimin-
ished and reduced from what he actually is. And that is idolatry.
Closer to the mark is the recognition that all of God’s emo-
tions, including his love in all its aspects, cannot be divorced from
God’s knowledge, God’s power, God’s will. If God loves, it is
because he chooses to love; if he suffers, it is because he chooses
to suffer. God is impassible in the sense that he sustains no “pas-
sion,” no emotion, that makes him vulnerable from the outside,
over which he has no control, or which he has not foreseen.
Equally, however, all of God’s will or choice or plan is never
divorced from his love—just as it is never divorced from his jus-
tice, his holiness, his omniscience, and all his other perfections.
Thus I am not surreptitiously retreating to a notion of love that
is merely willed altruism; I am not suggesting that God’s love be
dissolved in God’s will. Rather, I am suggesting that we will suc-
cessfully guard against the evils that impassibility combats if we
recognize that God’s “passions,” unlike ours, do not flare up out
of control. Our passions change our direction and priorities,
domesticating our will, controlling our misery and our happi-
ness, surprising and destroying or establishing our commit-
ments. But God’s “passions,” like everything else in God, are
60
displayed in conjunction with the fullness of all his other per-

fections. In that framework, God’s love is not so much a function
of his will, as something that displays itself in perfect harmony
with his will—and with his holiness, his purposes in redemp-
tion, his infinitely wise plans, and so forth.
Of course, this means that in certain respects God’s love does
not function exactly like ours. How could it? God’s love
emanates from an infinite Being whose perfections are
immutable. But this way of wording things guards the most
important values in impassibility and still insists that God’s love
is real love, of the same genus as the best of love displayed by
God’s image-bearers. And if large areas of uncertainty remain as
to how all this works out in the being and action of God, I sus-
pect it is because we have returned by another route to the abid-
ing tension between the biblical portrait of the sovereign,
transcendent God and the biblical portrait of the personal God—
and thus to the very mystery of God.
This approach to these matters accounts well for certain bib-
lical truths of immense practical importance. God does not “fall
in love” with the elect; he does not “fall in love” with us; he sets
his affection on us. He does not predestine us out of some stern
whimsy; rather, in love he predestines us to be adopted as his
sons (Eph. 1:4-5).8 The texts themselves tie the love of God to other per-
fections in God.
We may gain clarity by an example. Picture Charles and
Susan walking down a beach hand in hand at the end of the aca-
demic year. The pressure of the semester has dissipated in the
warm evening breeze. They have kicked off their sandals, and
the wet sand squishes between their toes. Charles turns to Susan,
61
gazes deeply into her large, hazel eyes, and says, “Susan, I love
you. I really do.”
What does he mean?
Well, in this day and age he may mean nothing more than
that he feels like testosterone on legs and wants to go to bed with
her forthwith. But if we assume he has even a modicum of
decency, let alone Christian virtue, the least he means is some-
thing like this: “Susan, you mean everything to me. I can’t live
without you. Your smile poleaxes me from fifty yards. Your
sparkling good humor, your beautiful eyes, the scent of your
hair—everything about you transfixes me. I love you!”
What he most certainly does not mean is something like this:
“Susan, quite frankly you have such a bad case of halitosis it
would embarrass a herd of unwashed, garlic-eating elephants.
Your nose is so bulbous you belong in the cartoons. Your hair is
so greasy it could lubricate an eighteen-wheeler. Your knees are
so disjointed you make a camel look elegant. Your personality
makes Attila the Hun and Genghis Khan look like wimps. But I
love you!”
So now God comes to us and says, “I love you.” What does
he mean?
Does he mean something like this? “You mean everything to
me. I can’t live without you. Your personality, your witty con-
versation, your beauty, your smile—everything about you trans-
fixes me. Heaven would be boring without you. I love you!”
That, after all, is pretty close to what some therapeutic
approaches to the love of God spell out. We must be pretty won-
derful because God loves us. And dear old God is pretty vul-
nerable, finding himself in a dreadful state unless we say yes.
62
Suddenly serious Christians unite and rightly cry, “Bring back

impassibility!”
When he says he loves us, does not God rather mean some-
thing like the following? “Morally speaking, you are the people
of the halitosis, the bulbous nose, the greasy hair, the disjointed
knees, the abominable personality. Your sins have made you dis-
gustingly ugly. But I love you anyway, not because you are
attractive, but because it is my nature to love.” And in the case
of the elect, God adds, “I have set my affection on you from
before the foundation of the universe, not because you are wiser
or better or stronger than others but because in grace I chose to
love you. You are mine, and you will be transformed. Nothing
in all creation can separate you from my love mediated through
Jesus Christ” (Rom. 8).
Isn’t that a little closer to the love of God depicted in
Scripture? Doubtless the Father finds the Son lovable; doubtless
in the realm of disciplining his covenant people, there is a sense
in which his love is conditioned by our moral conformity. But at
the end of the day, God loves, whomever the object, because God
is love. There are thus two critical points. First, God exercises this
love in conjunction with all his other perfections, but his love is
no less love for all that. Second, his love emanates from his own
character; it is not dependent on the loveliness of the loved,
external to himself.
John’s point in 1 John 4, “God is love,” is that those who
really do know God come to love that way too. Doubtless we do
not do it very well, but aren’t Christians supposed to love the
unlovable—even our enemies? Because we have been trans-
formed by the Gospel, our love is to be self-originating, not
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elicited by the loveliness of the loved. For that is the way it is

with God. He loves because love is one of his perfections, in per-
fect harmony with all his other perfections.
At our best, we know that that is the way God’s image-bear-
ers should love too. In one of her loveliest sonnets, never writ-
ten to be published, Elizabeth Barrett Browning wrote to her
husband Robert Browning:
If thou must love me, let it be for naught,

Except for love’s sake only. Do not say,
“I love her for her smile—her looks—her way
Of speaking gently—for a trick of thought
That falls in well with me, and certes brought
A sense of pleasant ease on such a day.”
For these things, in themselves, Beloved, may
Be changed, or change for thee—and love, so wrought,
May be unwrought so. Neither love me for
Thine own dear pity’s wiping my cheeks dry—
A creature might forget to weep, who bore
Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby!
But love me for love’s sake, that evermore
Thou may’st love on, through love’s eternity.
And this, brothers and sisters, we have learned from God as

he has disclosed himself in his Son; for “we love because he first
loved us” (1 John 4:19). “While we were still sinners, Christ died
for us” (Rom. 5:8). Here is love, not that we loved God, but that
he loved us, and gave his Son to be the propitiation for our sins
(1 John 4:10).
64
G OD ’ S LOVE AND
G OD ’ S W RATH
.,
any think it is easy for God to forgive. I recall meeting a

M young and articulate French West African when I was
studying in Germany more than twenty years ago. We were both
working diligently to improve our German, but once a week or
so we had had enough, so we went out for a meal together and
retreated to French, a language we both knew well. In the course
of those meals we got to know each other. I learned that his wife
was in London training to be a medical doctor. He himself was
an engineer who needed fluency in German in order to pursue
doctoral studies in engineering in Germany.
Pretty soon I discovered that once or twice a week he disap-
peared into the red light district of town. Obviously he went to
pay his money and have his woman. Eventually I got to know
him well enough that I asked him what he would do if he dis-
covered that his wife were doing something similar in London.
“Oh,” he said, “I’d kill her.”
“That’s a bit of a double standard, isn’t it?” I replied.
“You don’t understand. Where I come from in Africa, the
65
husband has the right to sleep with many women, but if a wife
does it, she must be killed.”
“But you told me that you were raised in a mission school.
You know that the God of the Bible does not have double stan-
dards like that.”
He gave me a bright smile and replied, “Ah, le bon Dieu; il doit
nous pardonner; c’est son métier [Ah, God is good; he’s bound to
forgive us; that’s his job].”
It is a common view, is it not? I do not know if my African
friend knew that the same words are ascribed to Catherine the
Great; he may have been consciously quoting her, for he was
well read. But even when people do not put things quite so
bluntly, the idea is popular, not least because, as we have seen,
some ill-defined notions of the love of God run abroad in the
land—but these notions have been sadly sentimentalized and
horribly stripped of all the complementary things the Bible has
to say.
In this last chapter I want to reflect on just a few of these other
things, with the aim of thinking more precisely and faithfully
about the love of God.
A. The Love of God and the Wrath of God

Here I shall venture three reflections.
(1) The Bible speaks of the wrath of God in high-intensity lan-
guage. “The LORD Almighty is mustering an army for war. . . .
Wail, for the day of the LORD is near; it will come like destruction
from the Almighty. . . . See, the day of the Lord is coming—a cruel
day, with wrath and fierce anger—to make the land desolate and
destroy the sinners within it” (Isa. 13:4, 6, 9). “Therefore as surely
66
God’s Love and God’s Wrath
as I live, declares the Sovereign LORD, because you have defiled

my sanctuary with all your vile images and detestable practices,
I myself will withdraw my favor; I will not look on you with pity
or spare you. A third of your people will die of the plague or per-
ish by famine inside you; a third will fall by the sword outside
your walls; and a third I will scatter to the winds and pursue with
drawn sword. . . . And when I have spent my wrath upon them,
they will know that I the LORD have spoken in my zeal. I will
make you a ruin and a reproach among the nations around you,
in the sight of all who pass by. . . . When I shoot at you with my
deadly and destructive arrows of famine, I will shoot to destroy
you. . . . Plague and bloodshed will sweep through you, and I will
bring the sword against you. I the LORD have spoken” (Ezek.
5:11-17). Such passages could be multiplied a hundredfold. Make
all the allowance you like for the nature of language in the apoc-
alyptic genre, but Revelation 14 includes some of the most violent
expressions of God’s wrath found in all literature.
Wrath, like love, includes emotion as a necessary component.
Here again, if impassibility is defined in terms of the complete
absence of all “passions,” not only will you fly in the face of the
biblical evidence, but you tumble into fresh errors that touch the
very holiness of God. The reason is that in itself, wrath, unlike
love, is not one of the intrinsic perfections of God. Rather, it is a
function of God’s holiness against sin. Where there is no sin,
there is no wrath—but there will always be love in God. Where
God in his holiness confronts his image-bearers in their rebellion,
there must be wrath, or God is not the jealous God he claims to
be, and his holiness is impugned. The price of diluting God’s
wrath is diminishing God’s holiness.
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This point is so important I must tease it out a little further. It

is hard to read the pages of Scripture without perceiving that the
wrath of God, however much it is a function of God’s holiness
against sin, nevertheless has a powerful affective element in it.
Thus to distance God too greatly from wrath on the ground of a
misconceived form of impassibility soon casts shadows back
onto his holiness.
Alternatively, this so-called wrath, depersonalized and de-
emotionalized, is redefined as an anthropopathism that is actu-
ally talking about the impartial and inevitable impersonal effects
of sin in a person or culture. That was the route of C. H. Dodd in
the 1930s. The entailment, then as now, is that the significance of
the cross changes. If God is not really angry, it is difficult to see
why any place should be preserved for propitiation. But to this
I shall return.
Further, to retreat to the distinction between the immanent
Trinity and the economic Trinity in this case would be disastrous.
That tactic argues that God as he is in himself (the immanent
Trinity) is immune from wrath while God as he interacts with
rebels (the economic Trinity) displays his wrath. But because
God’s wrath is a function of his holiness, this leaves us in the
dubious position of ascribing to God as he is in himself less con-
cern for maintaining his holiness than God as he interacts with
the created and fallen order. Conceptually this is a substantial
distance from the pictures of God in Scripture; analytically it is
slightly bizarre.
(2) How, then, should the love of God and the wrath of God
be understood to relate to each other? One evangelical cliché has
it that God hates the sin but loves the sinner. There is a small ele-
68
ment of truth in these words: God has nothing but hate for the
sin, but it would be wrong to conclude that God has nothing but
hate for the sinner. A difference must be maintained between
God’s view of sin and his view of the sinner. Nevertheless the
cliché (God hates the sin but loves the sinner) is false on the face
of it and should be abandoned. Fourteen times in the first fifty
psalms alone, we are told that God hates the sinner, his wrath is
on the liar, and so forth. In the Bible, the wrath of God rests both
on the sin (Rom. 1:18ff.) and on the sinner (John 3:36).
Our problem, in part, is that in human experience wrath and
love normally abide in mutually exclusive compartments. Love
drives wrath out, or wrath drives love out. We come closest to
bringing them together, perhaps, in our responses to a wayward
act by one of our children, but normally we do not think that a
wrathful person is loving.
But this is not the way it is with God. God’s wrath is not an
implacable, blind rage. However emotional it may be, it is an
entirely reasonable and willed response to offenses against his
holiness. But his love, as we saw in the last chapter, wells up
amidst his perfections and is not generated by the loveliness of the
loved. Thus there is nothing intrinsically impossible about wrath
and love being directed toward the same individual or people at
the same time. God in his perfections must be wrathful against
his rebel image-bearers, for they have offended him; God in his
perfections must be loving toward his rebel image-bearers, for he
is that kind of God.
(3) Two other misconceptions circulate widely even in circles
of confessional Christianity.
The first is that in the Old Testament God’s wrath is more
69
strikingly transparent than his love, while in the New Testament,

though doubtless a residue of wrath remains, a gentleness takes
over and softens the darker period: God’s love is now richer than
his wrath. After all, Jesus taught his disciples to love their ene-
mies and turn the other cheek.
Nothing could be further from the truth than this reading of
the relationship between the Testaments. One suspects that the
reason why this formula has any credibility at all is that the man-
ifestation of God’s wrath in the Old Testament is primarily in
temporal categories—famine, plague, siege, war, slaughter. In
our present focus on the here and now, these images have a
greater impact on us than what the New Testament says, with its
focus on wrath in the afterlife. Jesus, after all, is the one who in
the New Testament speaks most frequently and most colorfully
about hell—this Jesus of the other cheek. The apostolic writings,
climaxing in Revelation 14, offer little support for the view that
a kinder, gentler God surfaces in the New Testament at this stage
in redemptive history.
The reality is that the Old Testament displays the grace and
love of God in experience and types, and these realities become
all the clearer in the new covenant writings. Similarly, the Old
Testament displays the righteous wrath of God in experience
and types, and these realities become all the clearer in the new
covenant writings. In other words, both God’s love and God’s
wrath are ratcheted up in the move from the old covenant to the
new, from the Old Testament to the New. These themes barrel
along through redemptive history, unresolved, until they come
to a resounding climax—in the cross.
Do you wish to see God’s love? Look at the cross.
70
Do you wish to see God’s wrath? Look at the cross.

Hymn writers have sometimes captured this best. In Wales
Christians sing a nineteenth-century hymn by William Rees:
Here is love, vast as the ocean,

Lovingkindness as the flood,
When the Prince of life, our ransom,
Shed for us His precious blood.
Who His love will not remember?
Who can cease to sing His praise?
He can never be forgotten
Throughout heaven’s eternal days.
On the Mount of Crucifixion

Fountains opened deep and wide;
Through the floodgates of God’s mercy
Flowed a vast and gracious tide.
Grace and love, like mighty rivers,
Poured incessant from above,
And heaven’s peace and perfect justice
Kissed a guilty world in love.
That brings us to the second common misconception. This one

pictures God as implacably opposed to us and full of wrath, but
somehow mollified by Jesus, who loves us. Once again, if we
maintain the right frame, there is some wonderful truth here.
The Epistle to the Hebrews certainly lends some support to this
way of thinking, especially in its portrayal of Jesus as the high
priest who continuously makes intercession to God for us. All of
this is modeled on the cultus established at Sinai—or, more pre-
cisely, the cultus established at Sinai is meant to be, according to
71
Hebrews, the shadow of the ultimate reality. Again, in 1 John 2:2

Jesus is the Advocate who speaks to the Father in our defense.
But there are other strands of New Testament theology that
must be brought to bear. It was God who loved the world so
much that he gave his Son (John 3:16). Here it is not that God is
reluctant while his Son wins him over; rather, it is God himself
who sends his Son. Thus (to return to Hebrews), even if our great
high priest intercedes for us and pleads his own blood on our
behalf, we must never think of this as an independent action that
the Father somehow did not know about or reluctantly
approved, eventually won over by the independently originat-
ing sacrifice of his Son. Rather, Father and Son are one in this pro-
ject of redemption. The Son himself comes into the world by the
express command of the Father.
Thus, when we use the language of propitiation, we are not
to think that the Son, full of love, offered himself and thereby pla-
cated (i.e., rendered propitious) the Father, full of wrath. The pic-
ture is more complex. It is that the Father, full of righteous wrath
against us, nevertheless loved us so much that he sent his Son.
Perfectly mirroring his Father’s words and deeds, the Son stood
over against us in wrath—it is not for nothing that the Scriptures
portray sinners wanting to hide from the face of him who sits on
the throne and from the wrath of the Lamb—yet, obedient to his
Father’s commission, offered himself on the cross. He did this
out of love both for his Father, whom he obeys, and for us, whom
he redeems. Thus God is necessarily both the subject and the
object of propitiation. He provides the propitiating sacrifice (he
is the subject), and he himself is propitiated (he is the object).
That is the glory of the cross.
72
All this is implicit in the great atonement passage of Romans

3:21-26. After devoting two and a half chapters to showing how
the entire race is cursed and rightly under the wrath of God
because of its sin (1:18—3:20), the apostle Paul expounds how
Christ’s death was God’s wise plan “to demonstrate his justice at
the present time, so as to be just and the one who justifies those
who have faith in Jesus” (Rom. 3:26). God presented Jesus as a
propitiation in his blood, received through faith (Rom. 3:25).
B. The Love of God and the Intent of the Atonement

Here I wish to see if the approaches we have been following
with respect to the love of God may shed some light on another
area connected with the sovereignty of God—the purpose of the
Atonement.
The label “limited atonement” is singularly unfortunate for
two reasons. First, it is a defensive, restrictive expression: here is
atonement, and then someone wants to limit it. The notion of
limiting something as glorious as the Atonement is intrinsically
offensive. Second, even when inspected more coolly, “limited
atonement” is objectively misleading. Every view of the
Atonement “limits” it in some way, save for the view of the
unqualified universalist. For example, the Arminian limits the
Atonement by regarding it as merely potential for everyone; the
Calvinist regards the Atonement as definite and effective (i.e.,
those for whom Christ died will certainly be saved), but limits
this effectiveness to the elect; the Amyraldian limits the
Atonement in much the same way as the Arminian, even though
the undergirding structures are different.
It may be less prejudicial, therefore, to distinguish general
73
atonement and definite atonement, rather than unlimited atone-

ment and limited atonement. The Arminian (and the
Amyraldian, whom I shall lump together for the sake of this dis-
cussion) holds that the Atonement is general, i.e., sufficient for
all, available to all, on condition of faith; the Calvinist holds that
the Atonement is definite, i.e., intended by God to be effective for
the elect.
At least part of the argument in favor of definite atonement
runs as follows. Let us grant, for the sake of argument, the truth
of election.1 That is one point where this discussion intersects
with what was said in the third chapter about God’s sovereignty
and his electing love. In that case the question may be framed in
this way: When God sent his Son to the cross, did he think of the
effect of the cross with respect to his elect differently from the
way he thought of the effect of the cross with respect to all oth-
ers? If one answers negatively, it is very difficult to see that one
is really holding to a doctrine of election at all; if one answers
positively, then one has veered toward some notion of definite
atonement. The definiteness of the Atonement turns rather more
on God’s intent in Christ’s cross work than in the mere extent of
its significance.
But the issue is not merely one of logic dependent on election.
Those who defend definite atonement cite texts. Jesus will save
his people from their sins (Matt. 1:21)—not everyone. Christ gave
himself “for us,” i.e., for us the people of the new covenant (Tit.
2:14), “to redeem us from all wickedness and to purify for him-
self a people that are his very own, eager to do what is good.”
Moreover, in his death Christ did not merely make adequate pro-
vision for the elect, but he actually achieved the desired result
74
(Rom. 5:6-10; Eph. 2:15-16). The Son of Man came to give his life
a ransom “for many” (Matt. 20:28; Mark 10:45; cf. Isa. 53:10-12).
Christ “loved the church and gave himself up for her” (Eph. 5:25).
The Arminian, however, responds that there are simply too
many texts on the other side of the issue. God so loved the world
that he gave his Son (John 3:16). Clever exegetical devices that
make “the world” a label for referring to the elect are not very
convincing. Christ Jesus is the propitiation “for our sins, and not
only for ours but also for the sins of the whole world” (1 John
2:2). And much more of the same.
So how shall we forge ahead? The arguments marshaled on
both sides are of course more numerous and more sophisticated
than I have indicated in this thumbnail sketch. But recall for a
moment the outline I provided in the first chapter on the various
ways the Bible speaks about the love of God: (1) God’s intra-
Trinitarian love, (2) God’s love displayed in his providential care,
(3) God’s yearning warning and invitation to all human beings
as he invites and commands them to repent and believe, (4)
God’s special love toward the elect, and (5) God’s conditional
love toward his covenant people as he speaks in the language of
discipline. I indicated that if you absolutize any one of these
ways in which the Bible speaks of the love of God, you will gen-
erate a false system that squeezes out other important things the
Bible says, thus finally distorting your vision of God.
In this case, if we adopt the fourth of these ways of talking
about God’s love (viz. God’s peculiar and effective love toward
the elect), and insist that this is the only way the Bible speaks of
the love of God, then definite atonement is exonerated, but at the
cost of other texts that do not easily fit into this mold and at the
75
expense of being unable to say that there is any sense in which

God displays a loving, yearning, salvific stance toward the
whole world. Further, there could then be no sense in which the
Atonement is sufficient for all without exception. Alternatively,
if you put all your theological eggs into the third basket and
think of God’s love exclusively in terms of open invitation to all
human beings, one has excluded not only definite atonement as
a theological construct, but also a string of passages that, read
most naturally, mean that Jesus Christ did die in some special
way for his own people and that God with perfect knowledge of
the elect saw Christ’s death with respect to the elect in a differ-
ent way than he saw Christ’s death with respect to everyone else.
Surely it is best not to introduce disjunctions where God him-
self has not introduced them. If one holds that the Atonement is
sufficient for all and effective for the elect, then both sets of texts
and concerns are accommodated. As far as I can see, a text such
as 1 John 2:2 states something about the potential breadth of the
Atonement. As I understand the historical context, the proto-
gnostic opponents John was facing thought of themselves as an
ontological elite who enjoyed the inside track with God because
of the special insight they had received.2 But when Jesus Christ
died, John rejoins, it was not for the sake of, say, the Jews only
or, now, of some group, gnostic or otherwise, that sets itself up
as intrinsically superior. Far from it. It was not for our sins only,
but also for the sins of the whole world. The context, then,
understands this to mean something like “potentially for all
without distinction” rather than “effectively for all without
exception”—for in the latter case all without exception must
surely be saved, and John does not suppose that that will take
76
place. This is in line, then, with passages that speak of God’s love
in the third sense listed above. But it is difficult to see why that
should rule out the fourth sense in other passages.
In recent years I have tried to read both primary and sec-
ondary sources on the doctrine of the Atonement from Calvin
on.3 One of my most forceful impressions is that the categories
of the debate gradually shift with time so as to force disjunction
where a slightly different bit of question-framing would allow
synthesis. Correcting this, I suggest, is one of the useful things
we may accomplish from an adequate study of the love of God
in holy Scripture. For God is a person. Surely it is unsurprising
if the love that characterizes him as a person is manifest in a
variety of ways toward other persons. But it is always love, for
all that.
I argue, then, that both Arminians and Calvinists should
rightly affirm that Christ died for all, in the sense that Christ’s
death was sufficient for all and that Scripture portrays God as
inviting, commanding, and desiring the salvation of all, out of
love (in the third sense developed in the first chapter). Further, all
Christians ought also to confess that, in a slightly different sense,
Christ Jesus, in the intent of God, died effectively for the elect
alone, in line with the way the Bible speaks of God’s special selecting
love for the elect (in the fourth sense developed in the first
chapter).
Pastorally, there are many important implications. I mention
only two.
(1) This approach, I contend, must surely come as a relief to
young preachers in the Reformed tradition who hunger to
preach the Gospel effectively but who do not know how far they
77
can go in saying things such as “God loves you” to unbelievers.

When I have preached or lectured in Reformed circles, I have
often been asked the question, “Do you feel free to tell unbe-
lievers that God loves them?” No doubt the question is put to me
because I still do a fair bit of evangelism, and people want mod-
els. Historically, Reformed theology at its best has never been
slow in evangelism. Ask George Whitefield, for instance, or vir-
tually all the main lights in the Southern Baptist Convention
until the end of the last century. From what I have already said,
it is obvious that I have no hesitation in answering this question
from young Reformed preachers affirmatively: Of course I tell the
unconverted that God loves them.
Not for a moment am I suggesting that when one preaches
evangelistically, one ought to retreat to passages of the third
type (above), holding back on the fourth type until after a per-
son is converted. There is something sleazy about that sort of
approach. Certainly it is possible to preach evangelistically
when dealing with a passage that explicitly teaches election.
Spurgeon did this sort of thing regularly. But I am saying that,
provided there is an honest commitment to preaching the whole
counsel of God, preachers in the Reformed tradition should not
hesitate for an instant to declare the love of God for a lost world,
for lost individuals. The Bible’s ways of speaking about the love
of God are comprehensive enough not only to permit this but
to mandate it.4
(2) At the same time, to preserve the notion of particular
redemption proves pastorally important for many reasons. If
Christ died for all people with exactly the same intent, as meas-
ured on any axis, then it is surely impossible to avoid the con-
78
clusion that the ultimate distinguishing mark between those who

are saved and those who are not is their own decision, their own
will. That is surely ground for boasting. This argument does not
charge the Arminian with no understanding of grace. After all,
the Arminian believes that the cross is the ground of the
Christian’s acceptance before God; the choice to believe is not in
any sense the ground. Still, this view of grace surely requires the
conclusion that the ultimate distinction between the believer and the
unbeliever lies, finally, in the human beings themselves. That
entails an understanding of grace quite different, and in my view
far more limited, than the view that traces the ultimate distinc-
tion back to the purposes of God, including his purposes in the
cross. The pastoral implications are many and obvious.
C. The Love of God for the World

One of the striking formal dissonances in the Johannine corpus
is the superficial clash between the Gospel’s assertion of the love
of God for the world (John 3:16) and the first epistle’s prohibition
of love for the world (1 John 2:15-17). In brief, God loves the
world, and Christians had better not. The impression is pretty
strong that if people love the world, they remain under God’s
wrath: the love of the Father is not in them. The dissonance, of
course, is merely formal. There is a ready explanation, as we
shall see. But this formal dissonance reminds us yet again that
the ways the Bible speaks of something are diverse and contex-
tually controlled.
God’s love for the world is commendable because it mani-
fests itself in awesome self-sacrifice; our love for the world is
repulsive when it lusts for evil participation. God’s love for the
79
world is praiseworthy because it brings the transforming Gospel

to it; our love for the world is ugly because we seek to be con-
formed to the world. God’s love for the world issues in certain
individuals being called out from the world and into the fellow-
ship of Christ’s followers; our love for the world is sickening
where we wish to be absorbed into the world.
So “do not love the world or anything in the world. If any-
one loves the world, the love of the Father [whether this love is
understood in the subjective or the objective sense] is not in him”
(1 John 2:15). But clearly we are to love the world in the sense
that we are to go into every part of it and bring the glorious
Gospel to every creature. In this sense we imitate, in our small
ways, the wholly praiseworthy love of God for the world.
D. The Love of God and the People of God

I conclude with three brief reflections.
(1) The love of God for his people is sometimes likened to the
love of a parent for the child (e.g., Heb. 12:4-11; cf. Prov. 4:20).
The Lord disciplines those he loves (the fifth category from the
first chapter). I have said least about that category in this book.
But we must never forget that we are held responsible to keep
ourselves in the love of God (Jude 21), remembering that God
is loving and merciful to those who love him and who keep his com-
mandments (Exod. 20:6). In this, as we saw in the second chap-
ter, we imitate Jesus. As he obeys his heavenly Father and
remains in his love, so we are to obey Jesus and remain in his
love (John 15:9-11).
(2) The love of God is not merely to be analyzed, understood,
and adopted into holistic categories of integrated theological
80
thought. It is to be received, to be absorbed, to be felt. Meditate

long and frequently on Paul’s prayer in Ephesians 3:14-21. The
relevant section finds the apostle praying for the believers in
these terms: “I pray that you, being rooted and established in
love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how
wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to
know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be
filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.” Paul connects
such Christian experience of the love of God with Christian
maturity, with being “filled to the measure of all the fullness of
God” (3:19), as he puts it. It is far from clear that anyone can be
a mature Christian who does not walk in this path.5
(3) Never, never underestimate the power of the love of God
to break down and transform the most amazingly hard individ-
uals. One of the most powerful recent affirmations of this truth
in a context far removed from our church buildings is the world-
wide showings of the musical version of Les Misérables, Victor
Hugo’s magnificent novel. Sentenced to a nineteen-year term of
hard labor for stealing bread, Jean Valjean becomes a hard and
bitter man. No one could break him; everyone feared him.
Released from prison, Valjean finds it difficult to survive, as
innkeepers will not welcome him and work is scarce. Then a
kind bishop welcomes him into his home. But Valjean betrays
the trust. During the night he creeps off into the darkness, steal-
ing some of the family silver.
But Valjean is brought back next morning to the bishop’s
door by three policemen. They had arrested him and found the
stolen silver on him. A word from the bishop, and the wretch
would be incarcerated for life. But the bishop instantly
81
exclaims, “So here you are! I’m delighted to see you. Had you
forgotten that I gave you the candlesticks as well? They’re sil-
ver like the rest, and worth a good 200 francs. Did you forget
to take them?”
Jean Valjean is released, and he is transformed. When the
gendarmes withdraw, the bishop insists on giving the candle-
sticks to his speechless, mortified, thankful guest. “Do not for-
get, do not ever forget that you have promised me to use the
money to make yourself an honest man,” admonishes the
bishop. And meanwhile the detective constantly pursuing
Valjean, Javert, who is consumed by justice but who knows
nothing of forgiveness or compassion, crumbles when his black-
and-white categories of mere justice fail to cope with grace that
goes against every instinct for revenge. Valjean is transformed;
Javert jumps off a bridge and drowns in the Seine.
Of course, this is Christian love—i.e., the love of God medi-
ated in this case through a bishop. But this is how it should be,
for God’s love so transforms us that we mediate it to others, who
are thereby transformed. We love because he first loved us; we
forgive because we stand forgiven.
One of the faces of love I have virtually ignored in this series
of addresses is our love. My focus has been on the love of God and
the various ways the Bible speaks of that love. Yet sooner or later
one cannot adequately grasp the love of God in Scripture with-
out reflecting on the ways in which God’s love elicits our love.
To use the categories I developed in the first chapter and keep
redeploying:
(1) God’s intra-Trinitarian love ensures the plan of redemp-
tion. The Father so loves the Son that he has decreed that all will
82
honor the Son even as they honor the Father. God the Father
“shows” the Son things, gives him tasks, including the supreme
task of the cross, to that end; the Son so loves the Father that out
of obedience he goes to the cross on our behalf, the just for the
unjust. The entire plan of redemption that has turned our hearts
toward God is a function, in the first place, of this intra-
Trinitarian love of God (cf. chapter 2).
(2) God’s providential love protects us, feeds us, clothes us,
and forbears to destroy us when mere justice could rightly write
us off. The Lord Jesus insists that the evidences of God’s provi-
dential love call us to faith and God-centered kingdom priori-
ties (Matt. 6).
(3) God’s yearning, inviting, commanding love, supremely
displayed in the cross, “compels us, because we are convinced
that one died for all, and therefore all died. And he died for all,
that those who live should no longer live for themselves but for
him who died for them and was raised again” (2 Cor. 5:14-15).
With Paul, we are debtors; we owe others the Gospel.
(4) God’s effective, electing love toward us enables us to see
the sheer glory and power of Christ’s vicarious death on our
behalf, by which we are reconciled to God. We grasp that God
has not drawn us with the savage lust of the rapist, but with the
compelling wooing of the lover. Out of sheer love, God has effec-
tively secured the salvation of his people. We love, because he
first loved us.
(5) God continues to love us—not only with the immutable
love that ensures we are more than conquerors through Christ
who loved us (Rom. 8), but with the love of a father for his chil-
dren, telling them to remain in his love (Jude 21). Christ tells us
83
to remain in his love by exactly the same means that he remains

in his Father’s love—by obedience (John 15:9ff.). Thus we are
disciplined, in love, that we might be loving and obedient chil-
dren of the living God.
All this has transformed us, so that we in turn perceive the
sheer rightness of the first commandment—to love God with
heart and soul and mind and strength. As that is the first and
greatest commandment, so the first and greatest sin is not to love
God with heart and soul and mind and strength. For this there
is no remedy, save what God himself has provided—in love.
84
N OT E S
One: On Distorting the Love of God
1
Roy Anker, “Not Lost in Space,” Books & Culture 3/6 (November/
December 1997), 13.
2
Religious Change in America (Cambridge: Harvard University Press,
1989), 37.
3
All Is Forgiven: The Secular Message in American Protestantism (Princeton:
Princeton University Press, 1993).
4
Ibid., 40.
5
Ibid., 50, 53, 135.
6
I have discussed these matters at some length in The Gagging of God:
Christianity Confronts Pluralism (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1996).
7
American University Studies. Series VII: Theology and Religion, vol.
185 (New York: Peter Lang, 1996).
8
Ibid., 144.
9
The force of this utterance is not diminished by observing that it is
addressed to the house of Israel, for not all in the house of Israel are
finally saved; in Ezekiel’s day, many die in judgment.
10
See Iain H. Murray, Spurgeon and Hyper-Calvinism (Edinburgh: Banner
of Truth, 1995).
11
There are echoes as well in R. K. McGregor Wright, No Place for
Sovereignty (Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity Press, 1996).
Two: God Is Love

1
Exegetical Fallacies, 2nd edition (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1996).
2
Agape and Eros (New York: Harper and Row, 1969).
3
By far the most important, though certainly not the only contribution,
85
is Robert Joly, Le vocabulaire chrétien de l’amour est-il orginal? Uileivn et

Agapav
j n dans le grec antique (Brussels: Presses Universitaires, 1968).
4
Charles Hodge, Systematic Theology, 3 vols. (New York: Scribner,
Armstrong and Co., 1972), 1:428-429.
5
This view must not be confused with the claim by some that the Son had
no preexistence. The view described above acknowledges the preex-
istence of the Son, but urges that “the Son” as a title attaches only to
his incarnational existence.
6
Because this matter is tied to debates about the roles of men and
women, currently such a delicate topic, extraordinary publications
have appeared in recent years. Royce Gruenler, The Trinity in the
Gospel of John (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1986), denies that there is any
functional subordination of the Son to the Father, on the ground that
each “defers” to the other. The Father “defers” to the Son by granting
him what he asks. But this is a vain attempt to bury under the banner
of deference the massive differences in the descriptions of the roles of
the Father and the Son as depicted in the fourth Gospel. Because I
“defer” to my son’s request to pick him up at the soccer pitch does not
mean he commands me in the way I command him or that my love
for him is displayed in obedience to him. In a recent article, Gilbert
Bilezikian, “Hermeneutical Bungee-Jumping: Subordination in the
Godhead,” JETS 40 (1997), 57-68, argues that his opponents in the
debate over women’s roles are flirting with heresy on this issue, since
subordination in the Godhead does not reach back into eternity past
but is restricted to the Incarnation, which teaches both men and
women self-denial for the sake of others. It is difficult to find many
articles that so richly combine exegetical errors, historical misconcep-
tions, and purple prose in so finely honed a synthesis. But I do utterly
agree with his final appeal not to “mess with the Trinity” in support
of a contemporary agenda.
1
Closer to the mark is Paul K. Jewett, God, Creation, and Revelation:
A Neo-Evangelical Theology (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1991), 322-323,
who rightly concedes that the historical view is that there is no sub-
ordination to the Father by nature, but that there is what many would
call economic or functional subordination. He prefers to think of it as
“the free act of the Son.” I am not sure that this is an adequate for-
mulation, but even if it were, it is difficult to imagine any comple-
mentarian advocating something other than the free act of the woman
in any distinction in roles to which they hold.
86
Notes
Three: God’s Love and God’s Sovereignty

Wayne Grudem, Systematic Theology: An Introduction to Biblical Doctrine
1
(Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1994), 191.

I have dealt with such matters at greater length in Divine Sovereignty and
2
Human Responsibility (Atlanta: John Knox, 1981 [repr. Grand Rapids:

Baker, 1994]) and in How Long, O Lord? Reflections on Suffering and Evil
(Grand Rapids: Baker, 1990), esp. chaps. 11-12.
The recent attempt of John Sanders, (The God Who Risks: A Theology of
3
Providence [Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity Press, 1998], 103-104), to

avoid these conclusions is remarkably unconvincing. He says it was
God’s “definite purpose . . . to deliver the Son into the hands of those
who had a long track record of resisting God’s work. Their rejection
did not catch God off guard, however, for he anticipated their
response and so walked into the scene with an excellent prognosis . . .
of what would happen. The crucifixion could not have occurred to
Jesus [sic!] unless somehow it fit into the boundaries of what God
willed.” In other words, Sanders thinks the cross had a very good
chance of happening: God saw there was “an excellent prognosis”
that it would all work out. Yet even he has to fudge a little by saying
that “somehow” (Has mystery slipped in through the back door?) the
crucifixion “fit into the boundaries of what God willed.” Again: “God
sovereignly established limits within which humans decide how they
will respond to God”—under the assumptions, in Sanders’s view, of
a libertarian approach to freedom. It makes more sense to adopt a
straightforward reading of the text—but that means, of course, that it
is essential to adopt a compatibilist understanding of freedom.
4
Herman Bavinck, The Doctrine of God, trans. William Hendriksen
(Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1977 [1951]), 49. Cf. also discussion in
Carl F. H. Henry, God, Revelation and Authority, vol. 5: God Who Stands
and Stays, Part One (Wheaton, Ill.: Crossway Books, 1999), chap. 15.
Cf. Clark Pinnock, Richard Rice, John Sanders, William Hasker, David
5
Basinger, The Open View of God: A Biblical Challenge to the Traditional

View of God (Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity Press, 1994).
See the excellent essay by Millard Erickson, “God and Change,” The
6
Southern Baptist Journal of Theology 1/2 (1997), 38-51.

The most recent defense of this position is that of Peter D. Anders,
7
“Divine Impassibility and Our Suffering God: How an Evangelical

‘Theology of the Cross’ Can and Should Affirm Both,” Modern
Reformation 6/4 (July/August 1997), 24-30.
87
8
The New International Version does rightly construe the Greek at this
point.
Four: God’s Love and God’s Wrath

1
If someone denies unconditional election, as an informed Arminian
(but not an Amyraldian) would, most Calvinists would want to start
further back.
2
I have defended this as the background, at some length, in my forth-
coming commentary on the Johannine Epistles in the New
International Greek Testament Commentary (NIGTC).
3
One of the latest treatments is G. Michael Thomas, The Extent of the
Atonement: A Dilemma for Reformed Theology from Calvin to the
Consensus (1536–1675), Paternoster Biblical and Theological
Monographs (Carlisle: Paternoster, 1997).
4
Cf. somewhat similar reflections by Hywel R. Jones, “Is God Love?” in
Banner of Truth Magazine 412 (January 1998), 10-16.
5
I have dealt with this subject at much greater length in A Call to Spiritual
Reformation: Priorities from Paul and His Prayers (Grand Rapids: Baker,
1992).
88
GENERAL INDEX
Anthropopathism, 59, 68 Love

Atonement, 48 áw, 26-28
Amyraldian view, 73-74 26
agap
j
´j
Arminian view, 73-75 for God, 41, 64
erwy,
Calvinist view, 73-74 for one another, 48, 64, 82

Commandment, First, 84 for the world, 79-80
Compatibilism, 52-54 Love of God
Confessionalism, 15 absolutizing sides of, 21-24
Contextual studies, 30-36 and evil, 15
Crucifixion of Christ, 53-54, 70-71 and his will, 60
Decision, 79 compassion, 20, 47
Discipline, 19-21, 80, 84 conditional, in discipline, 19-21,
Election, 18-19, 21-22, 23, 50-51, 61, 75, 80, 83-84
63 difficulty of, 9-15
Emotions of God, 58, 67 immutable, 51
Evangelism, 78 in the cross, 70-71
Fatalism, 51-52 intra-Trinitarian love, 16, 21, 30,
Forgiveness, 65-64 34-36, 43, 59, 75, 82-83
Friends, 41-43 distinction between Father’s
Gnosticism, 76 love and Son’s love, 39-40
“God hates the sin but loves the sin- inviting love, 17, 22, 75-77, 83
ner,” 68-69 “unconditional,” 24
Halakhoth, 30, 31, 32 like a parent’s love, 80
Holiness of God, 67 other-oriented, 39
Immutability of God, 54-55 our culture’s understanding of
Impassibility of God, 48-49, 58-64 11-12, 60, 62
Interaction of God with human providential love, 16-17, 21-22,
beings, 55 23, 75, 83
“Limited atonement,” 73-79 sentimentalized view of, 11, 66
89
therapeutic view of, 60, 62 reveals the Father, 34

to be received, 81 raises the dead, 36
toward his people, 80-84 “refers only to the incarnate
toward the elect, 18-19, 22-23, Word,” 36-39
51, 75-77, 83 Sovereignty of God, 48-54, 57-58
toward the unlovable, 63-64 Subordination, trinitarian, 33-36,
toward the world, 79-80 39-40
toward unbelievers, 78 Syncretism, 14
transforming power of, 81-82 Transcendence of God. See
Middle knowledge, 50 Sovereignty of God
New Age, 11 Trinity, economic, 59, 68
Omnipotence of God, 49 immanent, 59, 68
Omniscience of God, 49, 50 Western culture, “indirection of,”
“Openness of God,” 55-58 10. See also Love of God, our cul-
Personal, God as, 57-58 ture’s understanding of.
Postmodernism, 13-14 Word studies, 25-29
Propitiation, 72 Wrath of God, 66-72
Repentance of God, 55-56 in the Old and the New
Responsibility of human beings, 52 Testament, 69-70
Sabbath, 30-32 as emotion, 67
Science-fiction films, 10 as willed response, 69
Sinai, 71
Slaves, 41-42
Son of God, 31-36
before the Incarnation, 36-39
eternal sonship, 38
90
SCRIPTURE INDEX
Genesis 103:9-11 20-21

103:13 20-21, 29, 48
6:6-7 55
50:19-20 52 103:17 48
103:17-18 20-21
Exodus 106:44-45 55
20:6 20, 80
32:10 48
Proverbs
32:12-14 56 4:20 80
34:6 48 16:3 49
21:1 50
Deuteronomy
4:37 18 Isaiah
7:7-8 18
10:5ff 52
10:14-15 18
34:4 66
34:6 66
1 Samuel
34:9 66
15:11 55
42:8 39
15:35 55
46:8-11 54
53:10-12 75
2 Samuel
54:8 48
13 27 62:5 48
Psalms Jeremiah
1-50 69
18:7-10 55
33:11 54
78:4 48 26:3 55
90:13 55 26:13 55
102:27 54 26:19 55
103:8 20 32:17 49
91
Ezekiel Luke
3:16-21 56 15 12
3:33 56 22:47 26
5:11-17 67
22:30-31 56 John
33:11 18 1:1 37
1:2-3 37
Hosea 1:14 37
3:16 17, 35, 72, 75, 79
11 46
3:17 37
11:4 46
3:35 27
11:5 46 3:36 69
11:6 46 5 41
11:7 46 5:8 30
11:8-11 47 5:11 30
5:16 31
Joel 5:16-30 30
5:17 31
2:13-14 55-56
5:18 33
5:19 33
Amos 5:19b 34
7:3-6 56 5:20 16, 27, 34
5:20-21 36
5:23 35
Jonah
5:26 37-38
3:9-10 56 5:35 16
4:2 56 6:37-40 51
8:29 36
Malachi 14:15 41
14:31 16, 36, 40
1:2-3 19 15:9 19, 40
3:6 54 15:9ff 84
15:9b-10 40
Matthew 15:9-11 80
15:10 20
1:21 74
15:14-15 41
6 17, 83
15:19 17
13:35 54 17 41
19:26 49 17:5 38
20:28 75
25:34 54 Acts
4:23-29 53
Mark 4:27-28 53
10:45 75 4:28 53
92
Scripture Index
13:48 51 1 Timothy
5:21 51
Romans
1:18ff 69 Titus
1:18-3:20 73
3:21-26 73 2:14 74
3:25 73
3:26 73 Hebrews
5:6-10 75
(whole letter) 53, 71, 72
5:8 64
8 63, 83 1:3 49
8:32 35 12:4-11 80
9:11 50
9:21 50 1 Peter
1:20 54
1 Corinthians 2:9 51
13 28, 46
1 John
2 Corinthians
2:2 17, 72, 75, 76
5:14-15 83 2:15 80
6:18 49 2:15-17 79
4 63
Galatians 4:8 25
4:4 43 4:10 64
4:11 48
Ephesians 4:16 25
1:4 54 4:19 64
1:4-5 51, 61
1:11 49, 54 Jude
2:15-16 75
21 19, 80, 84
3:14-21 59, 81
3:19 81
4:30 48 Revelation
5:25 19, 75 1:8 49
13:7-8 51
2 Thessalonians 14 67, 70
2:13 51 17:8 51
93

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qxd 1/9/09 1:59 PM Page i

THE DIFFICULT DOCTRINE

C ROSSWAY B OOKS BY D. A. C ARSON

For the Love of God, Volumes 1 and 2

Letters Along the Way (co-author, John D. Woodbridge)

The Difficult Doctrine of the Love of God

The Difficult Doctrine of the Love of God

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

1 On Distorting the Love of God 9

3 God’s Love and God’s Sovereignty 45

4 God’s Love and God’s Wrath 65

lthough parts of this book were first delivered as lectures

T HE D IFFICULT D OCTRINE OF THE L OVE OF G OD

n learning the title of this series, “The Difficult Doctrine

A. Why the Doctrine of the Love of God Must Be

T HE D IFFICULT D OCTRINE OF THE L OVE OF G OD

On Distorting the Love of God

even though many of their readers were not Christians in any

T HE D IFFICULT D OCTRINE OF THE L OVE OF G OD

On Distorting the Love of God

resemble those of human beings. . . . God is more likely to ‘feel’

The relatively weak notion of God’s fearsome capabilities

With such sentimentalizing of God multiplying in Protestant

T HE D IFFICULT D OCTRINE OF THE L OVE OF G OD

These two paradigmic [sic] perspectives in the book are

In short, the most energetic cultural tide, postmodernism,

On Distorting the Love of God

(4) The first three difficulties stem from developments in the

T HE D IFFICULT D OCTRINE OF THE L OVE OF G OD

than it really is, and this is achieved by overlooking some of the

B. Some Different Ways the Bible Speaks

On Distorting the Love of God

T HE D IFFICULT D OCTRINE OF THE L OVE OF G OD

mands all human beings to repent. He orders his people to carry

On Distorting the Love of God

the other three ways of speaking of God’s love that we have

T HE D IFFICULT D OCTRINE OF THE L OVE OF G OD

in his love” (John 15:10). To draw a feeble analogy: Although

On Distorting the Love of God

C. Three Preliminary Observations on These

T HE D IFFICULT D OCTRINE OF THE L OVE OF G OD

ordering of everything, we are not far from a beneficent if some-

On Distorting the Love of God

America today, but their echoes are found in young Reformed

T HE D IFFICULT D OCTRINE OF THE L OVE OF G OD

and learn to integrate them in biblical proportion and balance.

A. How Not to Proceed

T HE D IFFICULT D OCTRINE OF THE L OVE OF G OD

classic treatment is that of Anders Nygren.2 The noun erwy ´j (not

T HE D IFFICULT D OCTRINE OF THE L OVE OF G OD

oiléw can mean “to kiss”; agap

ceptibility to impression from people or events outside himself,

Here again we have to choose between a mere philosophi-

We may perhaps quibble with the odd phrasing of Hodge’s