Some personal thoughts coming out of the second ‘Trinity Symposium’ at EV Church. Similar to last time, these are my personal reflections – not a summary of what was presented or discussed. It was a great discussion, and I absolutely love that these events happen! A personal highlight was Mark Thompson’s lecture on how we use scripture wisely to talk about God. Not only did he explain this idea well – he modeled it even better, which is – I think – much more important.

I will not carry out my fierce anger, nor will I devastate Ephraim again.
For I am God, and not a man—the Holy One among you. I will not come against their cities.

Hosea 11:9

An impassibility assumed

The broad topic of the symposium was the impassibility of God; he does not change his mind due to external factors, circumstances, or emotions. This impassibility is an extension of his immutability; his nature does not change nor it is affected by external factors. God was, is, and will be pure perfection; the same yesterday, today and tomorrow. His emotions (if we can call them that) do not change his plans, rather they are perfect and real expression of his perfect character; loving, holy, righteous, faithful.

I think everyone agreed with this, there was not clarity. While these classical points of theology were stated, what I think I needed help to grasp was why these things were so important. What are we at risk of losing if we just assume impassibility? What errors might be make if we have a loose impassibility? Why should we be careful to protect it? More than just a passing reference to the believer’s confidence in salvation, what about my suffering, my unsaved child, my deep heartache? What pastoral mistakes will we make if we have a lose (or go loose on) impassibility?

The reality of God’s emotions

The ‘corrective’ about God’s impassibility that was made regularly on the day was that God is not unemotional; the scripture’s words about God’s love, anger, grief, sadness, etc. tell us a true and real things about God. And while impassibility does not mean God has no emotions – it does mean that God’s emotions are not like ours and God is not affected by his emotions like we are. God is creator and we are creatures (when God relents he does it as a God who does not relent like men do – see Psalm 106:45, and 1 Samuel 15:29). This means there is always going to be a trickiness understanding the bible’s emotional language about God – similar to when the bible speaks of God’s arm. God does not have an arm, nor his his strength really that similar to my strength. Yet it’s a true statement that tells us something about God’s power.

However, while the bible is clear that God does not have a body, the bible is also clear that God is love. This emotion – love – is essential to who (and what) God is. Added to this, we have God the Son in human nature, perfectly revealing God. When Jesus longs to gather Jerusalem under his wing, it speaks to God’s longing for sinners to repent. When Jesus weeps at Lazarus’ tomb, it is a picture of God’s heart in the face of death – even though it was a death he planned, permitted, and is just about to reverse partially in a few minutes, as well as completely resurrect in the last day.

So, we must hold to an impassible God who is not swayed by the whims of emotion, and we must hold to an emotional God who feels rightly; he is not stoic. Emotions don’t affect him, but can we say that emotions happen to him? Certainly the scriptures speak of God’s anger being kindled, and God responding to prayer and repentance with compassion and mercy. We must hold God’s unchangeable steadfast character, and yet isn’t it exactly that consistent steadfast character of “hair-trigger mercy” that means God really does feel rightly in response to things? God is not surprised by his response to his creation, he does not change his attitude or decrees based on his emotional response to creation. But that emotional response of grief, anger, wrath, pleading, longing, joy, pleasure is – at that point in time – the perfect response of a perfect unchanging God.

I think I’d say that while God might allow himself to be affected, he himself is never effected.

An ordo affectus?

One way of approaching the idea of the impassible God having emotions is to suggest an order or hierarchy to God’s emotions. Can we speak of God’s love, holiness, faithfulness and righteousness as his essential attributes, and then his “emotions” are expressions of these in different measure? That is, God’s anger is not essential to his being; he is not the eternally angry God. But – in his involvement with his creation – his love, holiness, faithfulness and righteousness are expressed in real and perfect anger at particular times. So, we might say that anger flows ‘down’ from God’s primary emotions, but does not flow back ‘up’ in such a way to threaten God’s impassibility. God is not effected by his real and perfect anger, but we can still say that God was angered – the emotion happened to him, but even then it is an expression of who is truly is, was and will always be.

Again I wish there was more discussion about why this is important and what we might lose if we get it wrong. For example, does our desire to speak of God’s emotions flow out of a cultural tendency towards unrelenting individualism, a demand for emotional understanding, and a all-encompassing mental health lens through which we view the world? And so what if it does? Are we making God in our own image? Is there anything that might stop us saying, “Hey, God gets you. He feels your pain. He’s angry too. He’s sad too.” And, if we say such things, are we exposing the next generation to dangers if we do?

At the same time I do wonder if for many people it is easier to approach a stoic God than an emotional God – especially in suffering. When a mother holds her lifeless child in her arms, it’s very hard to reconcile the idea that God loves more perfectly than she does. In that moment it might be easier to think God is impassive – to the point of uncaring – rather than deal with the existential frustration of an extremely emotional God who still let that child die.

In other words, I’d love a more robust conversation about the dangers to avoid; on one hand avoiding an uncaring immovable God who doesn’t really love you but you can be certain you’re saved. And on the other hand, avoiding a God who doesn’t really give us certainty about the future, but who gives us the emotional certainty that he knows us deeply and walks with us in our pain. I want to think through these two ends of the spectrum – and not just the extremes. I want to think them closer and closer together.

God’s heart at the cross

My final refection is really a frustration. And I want to couch this carefully because I might just have misunderstood – please let me me know if I’m wrong here. I sensed there was a real reluctance to speak of God’s emotions at the cross. I assume there’s a few reasons for this; a reluctance to suggest the word “suffering” implies “emotional suffering”. And we want to avoid Patripassianism and maintain that it was God the Son who suffered on the cross for us and our salvation, not the Father or the Holy Spirit.

And yet, there seemed (and I could be wrong!!) an unwillingness to say God the Father felt anything at the death of his beloved Son. The impassible God – as presented – seemed unmoved at the death of his Son. Whereas I think I want to say from the scriptures that the Father loved the Son at the cross, the Father was pleased with the Son’s obedience and love for salvation and desire to glorify the Father. I also want to say that God in the person of the Father poured out his wrath on the Son; God’s love and anger toward humanity are directed at the Son. And I think there’s a real and “mysteriously” costly aspect between the persons in the mission and suffering of the Son. As the Son gives up his life to death, the Father gives up his only beloved Son. Abraham’s willingness to not withhold his son is surely meant to point us towards a real (yet mysterious) costliness within the Father who did not spare his own son, but gave him up for us all (and yes, I think this is different to Theopaschitism). Or even a joy in the Father who is finally reconciling all things to himself in the glorification of his Son as Lord of all.

These are ideas and possible suggestions… but it’s not nothing. The Father surely feels something at the cross. I’m not suggesting that there is a simplicity to what’s going on there. It’s the cross after all. Everything is happening all at once. But that’s my point – God is being perfectly God at the cross. God is perfectly loving, righteous, faithful, holy, angry, sorrowful, joyous, jealous (and every other good and right emotion) at the cross.

…I think.

Thankfully, we have all of the coming ages to grasp the height, width, depth and breadth of God’s gracious heart displayed to us in Christ.

Thank you Mark Thompson, Andrew Leslie, Andrew Moody, and Andrew Heard for putting on the day!