On Free Will

Theological Letters

The following letter was prompted by my appearance on Hank Hanegraaff’s radio show, where I discussed free will and the Eastern Church fathers. “Chas” — an Orthodox inquirer who had been influenced by my work — wrote to me, asking about compatibilism, a position on free choice that, in my experience, often confuses students and laity alike. In what follows, I clarify the various positions on free will and explain where the Eastern fathers sit within that debate.

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Dear “Chas,”

I’m glad to hear of your interest in Orthodoxy and that my work has been of value to you. Perhaps I will someday do an episode on free will in the Eastern fathers. Admittedly, I tend to speak on whatever my interviewer wants to talk about, but we'll see if an opportunity arises. 

Rather than make you wait for said episode, I’m happy to write a brief reply. But I must warn upfront that I will not have time for correspondence on the issue. Hopefully this initial answer gives you something to build on.

You wrote:

If God's movement towards humanity is always good and salvific in nature, and it is rather the quality of the soil that determines whether a person cracks or flourishes, this still seems to leave something unanswered at the heart if it all. Why do some hearts respond and some do not? If we are to say simply that some exercise their free will in a way that is salvific while some do not, it seems like there may still somehow be room for a Calvinistic interpretation of election inasmuch as God fashioned the hearts of us all. If some hearts are predisposed to God via their free will, while some are not, isn't that the same as saying some are just...damned?¹

Your question seems to presume a specific model of free will, namely, compatibilism. I don't know how familiar you are with the various models of free will in philosophy. So let me begin by defining some terms before fleshing out my reply. (Forgive me for the redundancy if these terms and concepts are familiar to you.) 

Determinism is the view that, for everything that happens, there are conditions such that nothing else could happen. Notice that determinism is not a position on free will per se. Determinism is a position on the happenings of our world generally: all that occurs in our world is such that, for whatever reason, it could not be otherwise. Human choice is included in the “things that occur,” but it is merely one of many occurences that cannot be otherwise. Applied to free will, determinism is the belief that there are conditions that precede our choices that are sufficient to determine those choices. Thus, our choices are products of these prior conditions and could not be otherwise. 

There are various types of determinism, which are differentiated by where they locate the reason reality could not be otherwise: i.e., physical determinism, psychological determinism, ethical determinism, logical determinism, and theological determinism. 

Physical determinism presumes a reductionist materialist worldview, where all that exists is matter in motion, and this motion is fully determined by the laws of physics. Human choice is merely a byproduct of this motion, which is why “choice,” like every other physical event, is determined. The chain of physical events that precede a “choice” is extremely complex, involving neural firings and sensory inputs, and this complexity gives the illusion that we make choices that could be otherwise. But this is only an illusion; “choice” is just another event in a long chain of physically determined events — akin to a series of dominoes falling.  

Psychological determinism, when differentiated from physical determinism, distinguishes mind from matter.² Nonetheless, psychological determinism presumes that minds have an innate structure, or psychology, and this psychology determines the ways in which we think and ultimately choose. Like in physical determinism, then, there are conditions that precede our choices, and these conditions determine in advance the choices we make. 

Ethical determinism is a species of psychological determinism. It claims that every choice is based on a private assessment of the best: What is the optimal available good? The answer is a product of perception, which, in turn, is a product of psychological structures. Hence, our choices are determined by our psychology. Should we choose p over q, we do so because p seems better to us than q. But this perception springs from psychological hardwiring that precedes our choice. Hence, given this wiring, our calculus about the good is determined in advance. 

Logical determinism is based on a law of logic known as the law of excluded middle. This law asserts that a proposition is either true or false; there is no middle. Applied to future contingents (i.e., propositions about what will occur in the future), this law requires a fully settled future: “p will occur tomorrow” is true, while “p will not occur tomorrow” is false. Logical determinism concludes that our world is such that future contrarieties, including what we will choose in the future, are all predetermined. If you’re familiar with the foreknowledge problem (i.e., the concern that God’s knowledge of the future undermines free will), logical determinism is basically the same argument, but it employs logic rather than theology. 

Theological determinism can take on any number of forms. Some versions presume that God himself does not have free will. As the optimal being, he does the optimal thing in all instances. So, none of God’s choices could be otherwise. Since God is the First Cause of everything, this means that all that occurs in our world — choices included — cannot be otherwise. The principle of logic at work here is called the distribution axiom, where the necessity of the antecedent (in this case, God) distributes to the consequent (in this case, everything).

Other versions of theological determinism attribute free will to God but argue that he predetermines our choices such that they cannot be otherwise. Hence, God has contrary choice, but we do not.

Still other versions of theological determinism suggest that God’s foreknowledge of the future means the future is fully settled, so our choices cannot be otherwise — just like in logical determinism.

Regardless of the model, theological determinism suggests that the conditions that predetermine our choices are rooted in God. 

Now, regardless of the type of determinism to which one subscribes, the common thread is that there are conditions that precede our choices — be they physical, psychological, logical, or theological — that are sufficient to determine those choices. Thus our choices can never be other than they are.

This brings us to the issue of incompatibilism versus compatibilism.

Incompatibilism is the view that free will and determinism are incompatible. That is to say, if determinism is true, then free will is false. If free will is true, then determinism is false. Notice that incompatibilism does not mean that you believe in free will. It simply means that you believe free will cannot be reconciled with determinism. For this reason, there are two types of incompatibilists, one who affirms free will and denies determinism and the other who affirms determinism and denies free will. I’ll begin with the latter.

Hard determinism accepts the incompatibility of determinism and free will. As for which it believes is true, the title tells all — it affirms determinism and rejects free will. The reasons it affirms determinism are irrelevant; the hard determinist could affirm physical determinism, psychological determinism, ethical determinism, logical determinism, or theological determinism. But so long as one (a) grants the incompatibility of free will and determinism and (b) affirms determinism, he is a hard determinist. 

Libertarianism takes the opposite stance. Advocates of libertarian free will are incompatibilists who agree that free will and determinism are incompatible. But rather than affirming determinism, the libertarian affirms free will. 

The telltale sign of libertarianism is what has been called the Principle of Alternative Possibilities (or PAP). This principle identifies the central libertarian assumption, namely, that a free act is one that entails alternative possibilities or could have been otherwise. Determinism is clearly incompatible with PAP. For the defining feature of determinism is its claim that things are such that they could not be otherwise. Hence, the libterarian concludes that one must choose between free will and determinism, and he chooses the former, arguing that our choices are of such a kind that satisfy PAP. 

A typical libertarian defense of PAP is the “consequence argument.” If my choices are determined by prior causes, and those causes are traceable to prior causes, and so on, then the chain of causes that determine all of my choices can be traced to causes that are prior to any exercise of will. If my choices are determined by causes that are prior to my will, then I have no control over my choices. If, however, I do have control over my choices — as, for example, our moral intuitions suggest we do — then those choices cannot be determined by prior causes but must be of a kind that satisfies PAP.

With this, we arrive at the position known as compatibilism. Before offering a proper definition of compatibilism, allow me to say what it is not.

Compatibilism is not the view that free will and “divine sovereignty” (defined as God is the First Cause of all things, including our choices) are compatible. Nor is it the view that free will and predestination are compatible. Unfortunately, many evangelicals hear the term compatibilism and presume that it is suggesting one or both of these theological claims. But that is not what the term compatibilism means. 

Compatibilism is the view that free will and determinism are compatible. Now, this may sound strange, given that determinism denies that things could be otherwise and the commonsense understanding of free will is that our choices could be otherwise. This, however, is where compatibilism works its magic. Compatibilism denies that free will requires PAP, and thus redefines free will as any choice made in accord with one’s desires without coercion. So long as these conditions are met, it doesn’t matter whether the choice could be otherwise. 

A thought experiment might help. Let us say, for example, that physical determinism is true. Everything is one big, unbroken chain of matter in motion, wholly determined by physical laws, like an infinitely long chain of dominoes. This means that Jane, too, is nothing more than matter in motion; all of her desires are just physical events within this chain; and all of her choices are, likewise, just physical events within this chain. If, then, Jane faces a choice between p and q, and if she finds herself desiring p, and if this desire results in her choosing p, then all of this — her existence, her desires, and her choice — are mere products of the chain of material causes. Neither her existence nor her desires nor her choice could be otherwise, since they are fully determined by prior physical events. If true, is Jane’s choosing of p free? 

According to a libertarian (and the commonsense understanding of free will), the answer is no, since Jane has no control over either her desires or her choice and thus could never choose otherwise (i.e., the choice fails to satisfy PAP). Compatibilism “solves” this problem by removing PAP from the definition of free will. Since Jane desired p, and Jane chose p, and no one put a gun to Jane’s head to coerce p, Jane’s choice is free. Presto chango, free will (redefined) and determinism are compatible. 

Candidly, compatibilism is notoriously misleading, which is why you get individuals claiming that they are compatibilists who are not in fact compatibilists. Many people presume that the compatibilist accepts the commonsense view of free will (our choices could be otherwise) but also accepts “the mystery” that divine decrees or predestination are somehow compatible with this type of freedom. This is not what the compatibilist claims.

The compatibilist denies the commonsense understanding of free will and embraces determinism. Period. The compatibilist simply changes the definition of “free will” to exclude contrary choice, and then says that determinism and free will are compatible. Most folks don’t get that. It would be like saying square is compatible with triangle if we redefine square to mean a three-sided geometric shape. Well, sure, but that’s not what we were asking.

I don’t want to get off into a historical rabbit trail, but I will say that compatibilism is a very new position in the history of ideas. It doesn’t emerge until the 17th century.³ Today, its popularity is largely due to evangelicals (e.g., John Piper) who are fans of Jonathan Edwards, who was a compatibilist, and read John Calvin through the Edwardsian lens, thereby presuming that compatibilism is normative for Reformed theology. But this is not true.

Richard Muller, Willem Van Asselt, Eef Dekker, and others have done considerable work to debunk this myth. To choose one obvious proof, consider Franciscus Gomarus. Gomarus debated Jacobus Arminius at Leiden and is an example par excellence of Reformed orthodoxy. Gomarus did not oppose Arminius for his affirmation of libertarian freedom. To the contrary, in his own chapters on free choice,⁴ Gomarus states plainly that it is insufficient to define freedom as uncoerced action, for even dogs have this. What is necessary, he explains, is that the choice could be otherwise all knowledge of the chosen object remaining the same.⁵ In short, Gomarus affirms PAP and thus libertarian freedom.

The same position appears in Gisbertus Voetius after him and all the framers of Reformed “orthodoxy” in the 16th and 17th century.⁶ The embrace of compatibilism by Edwards is an innovation, divergent from the Reformed tradition — as well as from the Catholic, Orthodox, Lutheran, Arminian, and Christianotu generally.

Richard Muller, foremost authority in the world on 16th and 17th century Reformed orthodoxy, has written on the British reaction to Edwards, which demonstrates that all of the Reformed (and many non-Reformed) overseas recognized that Edwards was divergent from the Reformed tradition on free choice.⁷ The Reformed, like the Lutherans and the Catholics, affirmed that original sin cripples the will’s ability to perform salvific deeds. This is the bondage of the will of which they speak. But such bondage never denied the power of contrary choice.

Augustine, on whose teaching the doctrine is based, affirmed that Fallen humanity retains contrary choice — to steal or not, to murder or not, to fornicate or not. But Augustine introduces the doctrine of the order of loves. That is, even when doing what is lawful, one must do so out of pure love for God for the deed to be salvific. Without this, even a lawful deed is not salvific. Such pure love, says Augustine (and those in the West after him), is only possible with the grace of the Holy Spirit. Hence, the will is bound, not in the sense that it lacks contrary choice, but in the sense that none of its choices can merit salvation. Neither Augustine nor his theological progeny were compatibilists in the contemporary sense. They were libertarians but placed salvation beyond the grasp of the will.⁸

I apologize for falling down this rabbithole. Let’s climb out and return to your question. 

As I said, compatibilists believe free will (redefined) and determinism are compatible. Hence, us being determined is perfectly compatible with us acting on our desires without coercion (their definition of freedom). In some theological circles, this also yields a claim that theological determinism is perfectly compatible with free will. After all, if free will simply requires that I act in accord with my desires and no one coerces me into this action, then what does it matter whether those desires and the choices to follow are predetermined by physical conditions or by theological ones? Contrary choice is unnecessary and the underlying conditions that determine my choice are irrelevant, since PAP has gone by the wayside. Therefore, whether I am fully determined by the laws of physics or by divine decrees, I am still free, says the compatibilist. For I do as I please. 

Prior to Edwards, we see this view in Henry Home Kames. He suggests that God orchestrates history much in the same way one orchestrates a chain of dominoes. Divine decree and divine foreknowledge are  compatible with free will because we act from our own desires, but these desires are predetermined by our own nature, which is meticulously designed by God. God's foreknowledge is merely knowledge of the complete chain of causes he has designed and set in motion.⁹ 

Now, I bring this up because your question seems to tacitly presume compatibilism of some kind. Like Kames, when answering why one responds to God this way or that, you seem inclined to trace the answer to the person’s “nature,” and by this you do not mean human nature but their idiosyncratic nature — presumably their biology, psychology, and so on. Moreover, this tracing presumes that such factors are determinative of their choices. Hence, given that they are this way, their choice in a circumstance A is necessarily r. Such a presumption denies contrary choice and attributes the choice to prior conditions, not to the will which could choose otherwise. Certainly, there are those from the 17th century onward who hold this view (e.g., Kames, Hobbes, Edwards, et al.). But as noted above, such a view is alien to historical Christianity, both East and West.

Since your question concerns the East, I'll focus there.

There is ample evidence that the Eastern Church fathers hold to a libertarian view of free choice. We can see this in several places in their writings. First, the Eastern fathers often point out that moral culpability presumes two things: (i) knowledge of what one ought to do or ought not do, and (ii) the ability to do or not do. If either condition is lacking, then moral culpability ceases to apply. 

The claim is something everyone intuitively understands — that is, until they enroll in a philosophy class and choose to play the skeptic. When a child is caught doing wrong, his defense (aside from lying) is to assert I did not know or I could not help it. Every excuse boils down to this. I didn't hear you say that (= I did not know); Bobby made me do it (= I could not help it). When we become adults, the pattern does not change; it simply becomes more sophisticated. Officer, I did see a speed limit sign (= I did not know); I was on medication (= I could not help it). As moral agents, we intuitively know that if we have knowledge of right and wrong and the ability to do right and reject wrong, then we are culpable for our actions.

Notice that PAP is presumed in the second condition (i.e., the ability to do or not do). The Eastern patristic defense of free will is simple. Praise of right action and blame for wrong action presumes moral culpability. Now, does Scripture ever praise people for doing right or blame them for doing wrong? Answer: Yes, on every page. Hence, Scripture plainly teaches that we have free will and are thus culpable for our actions.

This argument, which appears in several Eastern fathers, presumes the power of contrary choice, and thus a libertarian view of free will.¹⁰

A second place where we see the Eastern patristic affirmation of libertarian freedom is their various theodicies (or defenses of God). The Eastern fathers insist that God is not the cause of evil. Yet, they recognize the very concern you raised: If God fashions us in such a way that we do not have the power of contrary choice and thus necessarily sin, then God is the author of evil, not creatures. Because God is Good, he cannot be the author of evil; therefore, man must have free will.¹¹ 

We also see the Eastern patristic affirmation of free will in their teachings on creation and man as an icon of God. While Plato and other pagan philosophers ascribe “will” (boulēsis) to God, it is not clear that they believe God has the power of contrary choice. For the pagan philosophers, it often seems that God involuntarily emanates a world reflective of his nature (or super-nature).¹² The Eastern fathers, by contrast, ascribe to God choice: He chooses whether and what to create, and in his providence, he chooses to do certain things and forego other things.¹³ In defending the point, Basil of Caesarea points out that we have free will, but we could not have this extraordinary power if God did not; for then we would be greater than him.¹⁴ While Basil’s point is about God, his case presumes that we have libertarian capacities. The point is quite common amongst the Eastern fathers who consistently locate the image of God in man’s reason and “self-determination” (autexousion) — that is, free will.¹⁵ 

A fourth place in which we see Eastern patristic libertarianism is in their statements on foreknowledge. Unlike in Western models of foreknowledge, specifically in the medieval period and beyond, the Eastern fathers do not hold that God foreknows various futurities before he creates. John of Damascus, for example, says — in reply to the question, Why God would create a reprobate he knows will be damned? — that God does not know the reprobate will be damned before choosing to makes him.¹⁶ The rationale is that foreknowledge is foreknowledge of what is, and nothing is before God chooses to make it.¹⁷ The relevance to free will is that if our choices were merely products of the predetermined structure of our being, as the compatibilist presumes, then God would necessarily know what choices each creature would make before creating them. It would be a simple matter of calculus. It is because the creature is self-determining and has the power of contrary choice that God cannot know what it will do before he makes it. We determine our choices, not God. 

On our self-determination, Basil of Caesarea is worth quoting at length:

God does not love what is constrained but what is accomplished out of virtue. And virtue comes into being out of free choice and not out of constraint. But free choice depends on what is upt to us. And what is up to us is self-determined. Accordingly, the one who finds fault with the Creator for not fashiong us by nature sinless is no different from one who prefers the nonrational nature to the rational, and what lacks motion and impulse to what has free choice and activity.¹⁸

Notice that Basil, with the other Eastern fathers, presumes that virtue requires free will. If the act proceeds from constraint, then it cannot be virtuous. His retort that one who prefers sinless constraint to freely chosen virtue is no different than one who prefers the nonrational to the rational is a point about the goodness of free will. The underlying presumption is that there is a hierarchy of ontological goods in the world: plants, having life, are superior to rocks; animals, having sentients, are superior to plants; humans, having reason, are superior to animals; and we are created a little lower than the angels, according to the Psalmist. Basil's point is that free will is a good unique to rational creatures and superior to the restrained natures of lower beings who lack free will. Hence, to turn one's nose up at free will is to prefer the inferior to the superior. (This point echoes Basil's other argument, which I mentioned above, that we cannot have powers superior to those of God; hence, God must also have free will, since we have this power.) 

Fifth and finally, we see the Eastern patristic affirmation of libertarianism in their insistence that the assailing passions — that is, the animal impulses that incline toward perceived goods and recoil from perceived evils — which Paul and James identify as the root of sin, these, the Eastern fathers insist, incline the will; they never determine it. The point makes clear that our idiosyncratic dysfunctions are not sufficient to determine our actions. One may have a strong inclination toward alcoholism, or adultery, or gluttony, but the passions that assail the will with these impulses are not sufficient in themselves to move the will into action. The will, being a self-determining faculty or power, must consent to the inclination. The point is an explicit rejection of determinism and an affirmation of PAP.

Applying all of this to your concern, the first thing we must dispense with is any form of tacit compatibilism. The Eastern fathers are clear that we have free will; this means that we are self-determining creatures; this self-determination means that we have the ability to do right or wrong; and none of the underlying conditions of our nature (i.e., the assailing passions) are sufficient to determine the will one way or another. Hence, our choices are our own, which is why they rightly incur, from God, praise or blame. 

My guess is that the root of your concern is how you read the analogy of the sun and the soil, which I explained on the broadcast. You seem to be reading the analogy in a deterministic way. That is, the soil has no choice about its condition, so it has no choice about its response to the sun. If the sun shines upon it, then the results are predetermined by the nature of the sun coupled with the nature of the soil — bad soil responds negatively, good soil positively. Such is not the intent of the analogy, but it is, admittedly, the deficiency of any analogy that employs non-sentient, non-free entities in its comparisons. Compatibilist "Calvinists" read the same implication into the vessels analogy of Romans 9: Because a pot has no control over its shape — the shape being entirely determined by the potter — Paul must be claiming that we too are shaped by God in a way that predetermines our salvation or damnation. The Eastern fathers are explicit that this is a misapplication of such analogies.  

We see this is in their treatment of Romans 9 (e.g., in Origen, Basil, and Gregory of Nazianzus). They anticipate the above reading, namely, that God forces Pharaoh to do something and then punishes him for doing it. This, they note, is obviously unjust (which is why everyone not under the pietistic spell of Calvinism objects to it). God is just. Hence, such a reading is impossible. In other words, the Eastern fathers reject the "Calvinist" reading out of hand as not even worth entertaining. The second place we see this is in their cross reference of Romans 9 with 2 Tim 2:21, where Paul places in our hands (and Timothy's) self-determination, the making of ourselves into a vessel of one kind or another.

As with any analogy, there are correct takeaways (i.e., the intent of the analogy) and incorrect takeaways (i.e., contrary to the intent). Were we to take away from The Lord is my shepherd that God emits a foul smell of sheep and fields, this would be a misreading. So, in the same way, the Eastern fathers reject the takeaway of Paul's vessel metaphor or of the soil metaphor (taken from Jesus, of course) that we do not have free will. Paul plainly speaks of us as self-determining vessels, unlike vessels of non-sentient clay. So, in the same way, we contribute to the type of soil we are. If we freely harden our hearts, darken our minds, indulge in passions, and try to silence conscience, we make ourselves bad soil — we harden ourselves. If, however, we strive to put to death the passions, do what is right, and obey God, we break apart that soil and become soft, good soil. To take away from Paul's vessels metaphor or Jesus' sower metaphor that we lack free will is to misunderstand both Paul and Jesus. 

Having said this, we are not blank slates. Changing our condition becomes more difficult with time. The deeper we develop certain patterns of behavior, the more difficult it is to correct that trajectory. Pharaoh had a lifetime of indulging pride and the self-delusion that he was a god. His willful embrace and indulgence of that delusion certainly made it difficult to break up the soil of his heart. But this is also why the Eastern fathers see, even in the divine wrath upon him, a mercy that is salvific in aim. By breaking Pharaoh down, the possibility of repentance becomes more likely. And we begin to see glimmers of it as Pharaoh shows contrition and says the Hebrews can go. But he also chooses to again harden his heart — emphasis here on chooses. The point is this. The analogy that our personal condition plays a role in how we receive the salvific movements of God — flourishing, as did Moses, or hardening, as did Pharaoh — is true. But the implication that our condition is innate, or necessary, or unchangeable is false. We freely shape ourselves. Thus, our condition is not innate; our condition is something we freely shape and reshape moment to moment. Because our condition is pliable, our spiritual state — be it good or bad — is not necessary but conditional upon our choices and responsiveness to God. And our response to God, though reflective of our spiritual condition, is never fully determined to the exclusion of free will, since our passions can only ever incline but never determine our choices. Yes, if we are bad soil, we are likely to be resistant, like Pharaoh, but neither this spiritual condition nor the choices that spring from it are strictly necessary. The condition comes from a long string of free choices, and whatever resistance may spring from it must also be freely embraced, and for this reason, it can also be freely resisted in acts of repentance.  

Keep in mind, the analogy does not refer to a single moment in time. In the Eastern patristic view, the salvific movement of God toward creatures — every creature — is constant, and our choices are innumerable. The synergistic dance between our cooperation or resistance to God is a lifelong affair. And it is a dance because we are self-determining creatures. God never coerces. 

I hope that helps. 

Sincerely,

Dr. Jacobs

--

Nathan A. Jacobs, Ph.D.

Scholar in Residence of Philosophy and Religion in the Religion in the Arts in Contemporary Culture Program (RACC)
Vanderbilt University, Divinity School
http://nathanajacobs.com
https://vanderbilt.academia.edu/NathanAJacobs

1. “Alex” is referencing a point I made in the broadcast. I described an agricultural metaphor in the Eastern fathers meant to illustrate that God’s movement toward all creatures is aimed at their good; however, the condition of the creature may yield a negative effect. Origen, in a passage affirmed by Basil of Caesarea and Gregory of Nazianzus, addresses the biblical claim that God hardened Pharaoh’s heart. He explains that if the sun could speak, it could say, “I cause to grow, and I cause to whither and crack.” But in saying this, the sun would not be declaring that he treats the two types of soil differently. So, with God, we see that God treats Pharaoh and Moses the same — showing up, declaring who he is, demonstrating it by miracle, and making a demand. In the case of Moses, this produces a Saint; in the case of Pharaoh, it leads to destruction.

2. I add the clause, “when differentiated from physical determinism,” for the following reason. Clearly, physical determinism grants that we are psychologically determined: i.e., the makeup of our brain is part of what fully determines our actions. Within physical determinism, however, there is no distinction between mind and brain. For all that exists is matter in motion. One could, however, draw this distinction, differentiating mind from brain, and thus deny the claim that only matter exists. And yet, such a one could still affirm that the makeup of mind results in psychological determinism, as affirmed above.

3. I make this case in my doctoral dissertation, complete with the relevant footnotes. See Nathan A. Jacobs, “In Defense of Leibniz’s Theodicy,” ch. 2.

4. A careful reader may notice that, amid my discussion of scholastic writers, I switch from “free will” to “free choice.” Though the former is common parlance, the latter is more accurate to the classical discussion. The will (voluntas) is the faculty by which rational creatures exercise choice. The question of freedom is whether this faculty has the power of “free choice” (liberum arbitrium).

5. See the second definition of a “free act” in Gomarus, Disputatio theologica de libero arbitrio.

6. Jacobs, “In Defense of Leibniz’s Theodicy,” ch. 2, §1.3.

7. Richard A. Muller, “Jonathan Edwards and the Absence of Free Choice: A Parting Ways in the Reformed Tradition,” Jonathan Edwards Studies 1, no. 1 (2011): 3-22.

8. See Jacobs, “In Defense of Leibniz’s Theodicy,” ch. 2, §1.1. John Rist argues that Augustine eventually changes his view on freedom, nearly denying free choice: “Augustine on Free Will and Predestination,” Journal of Theological Studies 20 (1969): 420-77. His case is vigorously opposed by Jasper Hopkins, “Augustine on Free Will and Predestination: A Critique of John M. Rist’s Interpretation,” in Philosophical Criticisms: Essays and Reviews (Minneapolis, MN: The Arthur J. Banning Press, 1994), 41-73; Mary T. Clark, Augustine Philosopher of Freedom: A Study in Comparative Philosophy (New York: Desclée), 4.

9. Lord Henry Home Kames, Essays on the Principles of Morality and Natural Religion (London: J. Bell and J. Murray, 1779), 171-72.

10. See, e.g., Irenaeus, Contra Haereses, 4.37.6 (PG 7:1103a-b); Clement of Alexandria, Stromata, 1.17 (PG 8:796b-797c; 800a-801c); Origen, De principiis, 3.1 (PG 11:145a-147a); Justin Martyr, Apologia prima pro Christianis, 43-4 (PG 6:391c-96c); Gregory of Nyssa, Oratio catechetica magna, 31 (PG 44:77b-d); John of Damascus, De fide orthodoxa, 2.24 (PG 952b-6b). This case also appears in Latin writers. See, e.g., Tertullian, Adversus Marcionem, 2.6 (PL 2:290c-292c).

11. See, e.g., Irenaeus, Contra haereses, 2.1.1; 2.5.4 (PG 7a:709c-710a; 723c-724a).

12. See, e.g., Plotinus, Enneads, 4.8.6; 5.12.45-48; and 6.8.

13. John of Damascus, De fide orthodoxa, 1.14 (PG 94.860a-2a)..

14. Basil of Caesarea, Adversus Eunomium, 4 (PG 29.697c-700a).

15. Clement of Alexandria, Stromateis, 7.7 (PG 9.458c-460a); Irenaeus, Contra Haereses, 4.4.3, 37.4, 38.4 (PG 7:982b-3b, 1101c-2b, 1108d-9c); Gregory of Nyssa, De virginitate, 12 (PG 46.369b-376c); De hominis opificio, 16 (PG 44.178d-188a); Oratio catechetica magna, 5 (PG 45.20d-25a).

16. John of Damascus, De fide orthodoxa, 4.21 (PG 94:1197a-1201a).

17. For a full treatment of this particular question, see my letter, “Why Would God Make the Damned?” The audio version can be found here.

18. Basil of Caesarea, Homilia quod Deus non est auctor malorum, 7 [PG 30:345b]