Naught is he but the powerless worthless plaything
Of the blind force that in his will itself
Works out for him a dread necessity.”
There is therefore, according to this system, no right, no wrong, no sin, no holiness; for wherever necessity reigns, virtue and vice terminate. “Evil and good,” says the Pantheist, “are God’s right hand and left—evil is good in the making.” Everything being fixed by God we can no more keep from doing what we do, than we can keep the earth from rolling round the sun. Since this monstrosity in morals results from the doctrine, it is evidently false.
(4.) We object, in the fourth place, to universal foreordination, because it makes God the [author of sin], the caveat of the Confession notwithstanding. It is said that God’s foreknowledge involved foreordination. If so, the matter may be easily settled thus:—Does God foresee that men will sin? Of course He does. But if foreknowledge involves foreordination, then by the laws of logic He has foreordained sin. Syllogistically thus:—God only foreknows what He has fixed; but He foreknows sin, ergo, He fixed sin. We cannot resist this conclusion if we hold the premises. The Confession says He has foreordained everything, yet is He not the author of sin. But is it not clear as day that the author of a decree is the author of the thing decreed? David was held responsible for his decree regarding Uriah, and justly so. Had he been as clever as the authors of the Confession he could have parried that homethrust of Nathan, “Thou art the man.” If everything that comes to pass was foreordained; David might have said, “I beg pardon, Nathan; it is true that I made the decree to have Uriah killed, but I did not kill him. Is it not the case that the author of a decree is not responsible for the sin of the decree?” Would Nathan have understood this logic? We think not. But if the Confession had been then in existence (if the anachronism may be pardoned), he might have appealed to it against Nathan; and we never should have had that awful threnody—the fifty-first Psalm. There is, then, no escape from the conclusion, that if everything that comes to pass has been foreordained, so also must it be the case with sin, for it also comes to pass. I open the page of history, and find it bloated with tears and blood. It is full of robberies, massacres, and murders. As specimens, look at the Murder of John Brown by Claverhouse; the massacre of St. Bartholomew; the sack of Magdeburg, when the Croats amused themselves with throwing children into the flames, and Pappenheim’s Walloons with stabbing infants at their mothers’ breasts. Who ordained these and a thousand such horrid deeds? The Confession says that God ordained them, for He foreordains whatsoever comes to pass. Tilly, the queen-mother, the infamous Catherine de Medici, Charles IX., the bloody “Clavers” were mere puppets. The Confession goes past all these, and says that God fixed them to take place. This is nothing else, in effect, than to place an almighty devil on the throne of the universe. This is strong language, but it is time, and more than time, that sickly dilettanteism should be left behind, and this gross libel on the Creator should be utterly rejected. He foreordains all His own deeds, but not the deeds of men.
(5.) We object to the doctrine of universal foreordination, in the fifth place, because it makes the [day of judgment] a farce. The books are opened, and men are about to receive acquittal or condemnation. This is perfectly right if men were free when on earth, but not so if all their deeds were foreordained by God. One of the most interesting sights in Strasbourg is the clock of the cathedral when it strikes twelve. Then the figures move. A man and a boy strike the bell, the apostles come out, and Christ blesses them. It is a wonderful piece of mechanism. But the figures are simply automatic. They move as they are moved. To try them in a court of justice (should anything go wrong), would be simply ridiculous—a farce. And if every one of our deeds is fixed, what better are men than mere automata? To try them, to judge them, and to award praise and blame for what was done, would be to burlesque justice. The judgment day, therefore, and foreordination of all things cannot stand in the same category. If we hold by the one we must give up the other. God foreknows all things, but foreordains only what He himself brings to pass. Man will be judged, condemned, or rewarded, according as he has acted in life; which judgment implies his freedom or the non-foreordination of his acts.
The objections thus adduced are, in our judgment, quite sufficient to condemn the dogma of universal foreordination. Yet others of a grave character may be urged against it. It is a sacred duty as well as a privilege of the Christian, to defend the Divine administration when attacked by infidels. But if everything has been fixed how can this be done? Look at the fall. God knew that it would occur, but, according to Calvinism, He knew it because He had foreordained it. But the actors in the whole transaction were severely blamed and punished. To the serpent it was said, “Because thou hast done this, thou art cursed above all cattle and above every beast of the field.” The woman was told that because she had done what she did, her sorrow was to be multiplied; and the man was driven out of Paradise, because he had hearkened unto the voice of his wife. Can such declarations be justified if the transactions recorded were all foreordained? Each of the parties condemned might have asked, and done so pertinently—Why put this punishment upon me when I was simply carrying out the Divine decrees? And what answer could be given? None that we know of which would satisfy the reason. And what, then? This—viz., that in the light of the drama of the fall, the doctrine of universal foreordination must be given up as a myth which ignores philosophy, and reflects injuriously upon the Divine character.
In [Jeremiah vii. 29-31] it is written: “Cut off thy hair, O Jerusalem, and cast it away, and take up a lamentation on high places . . . for the children of Judah have done evil in my sight, saith the Lord: they have set their abominations in the house which is called by my name, to pollute it. And they have built the high places of Tophet, . . . to burn their sons and their daughters in the fire; which I commanded them not, nor came it into my heart.” Here the Lord expressly declares, that instead of having foreordained these deeds, such an idea was never in His heart. There is here a clear “Thus saith the Lord” against the dogma of universal predestination.
In [Mark v. 6], it is said of Jesus that “He [marvelled] because of their unbelief.” But we only marvel when we are ignorant of the cause of a phenomenon. As soon as we know this the marvel ceases. Had Jesus, therefore, known that all was fixed, He never would have marvelled. Would you marvel that the fire had gone out when it was decreed not to give additional fuel? Would the miller marvel that the mill did not go when he had ordained that the water should be shut off? The prefixing of all events, and “marvelling” at anything, are out of the question. But since Christ did “marvel” it shows that He believed that they could and ought to have believed, and that He knew of no reason why they did not. It may be said that He was a man, and spake and felt like a man. True, but will the followers of Calvin maintain that he knew more of divinity than Christ? We should think not.