A tentative philosophy of time

The philosophy of time is a very complex subject. I've put further study of it on hold since I started preparing for a few essay contests on Ayn Rand's philosophy, but a friend recently asked me some questions about it, and I think the following summary I provided is a good indication of where I stand.

While I'm still open to the idea that God is not timeless, the primary problem I have with it is that it seems to be incompatible with even a weak understanding of divine immutability, a doctrine I think is Scripturally supported.

If God is temporal, then an A-series theory of time - which I will explain shortly - is true, and His knowledge literally changes. For example, the proposition "x will occur" would be true until x occurs in time, after which it would be false - so God would know "x will occur" at one point in time but not another. If God's knowledge changes, God changes.

I've tried to construct an argument that God could not be omniscient unless He is timeless, but to be honest, I haven't thought of one which holds. Of course, the meaning of "omniscience" would have to be qualified if God is temporal - it would have to mean something like "knowledge of all propositions which are now true" rather than simply "knowledge of all true propositions[, each of which are unchangingly true]" - but so long as one accepts determinism, God could control under what conditions His knowledge changes.

That's one reason I didn't really like the TF article on time. Parkinson didn't discuss an A-series vs. a B-series view of time, eternal creation, the meaning of omniscience, etc. The discussion is more complicated than "if God's knowledge changes then God is not omniscient," for why couldn't it be the case that God's knowledge changes in accordance with divinely predetermined changes?

Parkinson also doesn't seem to realize omnitemporality traditionally refers to the view that God has an infinitely extended past and future, or at least that He is at all times (contrary to atemporality). He can define omnitemporality in a certain way to make it compatible with Calvinism if he likes, but to me it seems like trying to define free will similarly - it's more likely to confuse than help.

Anyways, for "now," the best argument for divine timelessness I can think of is the argument that it follows from explicit Scriptural testimony of divine immutability. There do appear to be good philosophical arguments against an A-series view of time, however (e.g. McTaggart's paradox), which could also be used as arguments for divine timelessness. I haven't studied those enough to cite them as support for divine timelessness, though.

As for a defense of divine timelessness from counter-arguments, some language used to describe God is anthropomorphic, figures of speech not literally true. This includes words such as "past," "present," "now," and "future." Temporal events are not literally related this way. The A-series view of time says they are and that there is an objective "now." A simple way of thinking about it is to say that the A-series view of time regards some language as irreducibly tensed. So, for instance, a proposition like "I am writing this post now" cannot be reduced to "I write this sentence at 10:51 pm, June 16, 2012." Both may be true, A-series theorists say, but what they each mean is different.

A B-theory view of time, on the other hand, believes events are related by means other than tensed language. Or, at least, any tensed sentence expresses a tenseless meaning (hence, tensed language is non-literal). So in place of words like "past," "present," "now," ""future," yesterday," "today," "tomorrow," "was," will," "did," "had," etc., B-series theorists substitute words like "earlier than," "simultaneous with," and "later than." These substitutes are not tensed phrases. "I write this sentence simultaneous with Jodie driving a car, you sleeping, etc." is not tensed. "I write this sentence later than my reading of your post" is not tensed. No time has a privileged status of "now" or "present" on a B-series view of time. It rather relates events in the direction of logical causation. An event is earlier than another because the earlier event causes the latter event. Events may be caused by other events without its being necessary that they could have been, at some point, modified by the word "now."

If God is timeless and omniscient, a B-series view of time must be true. Otherwise, propositions describing events would be tensed, God would have to know those propositions, and God's knowledge of tensed propositions would necessitate and A-series view of time. This would lead to divine mutability, as shown earlier, which I find problematic.

How does a B-series view of time square with creation? Paul Helm theorizes an "eternal creation." To be eternal is simply to be atemporal or timeless. What does this mean? Well, A and B-series views of time define time in terms of the tensed or tenseless relations events possess (e.g. past/present/future vs. earlier/simultaneous/later). So the point is that God does not acquire [new] relations if He is timeless. What relation[s] God has to the universe, then, must be timeless - that is, on the B-series view of time, these relations cannot be earlier than, simultaneous with, or later than any other events.

Hence, as Helm puts it, God does not will "in" time but rather "with" time; He eternally or timelessly decrees {event A at time t1, B at t2, etc.}. He does not eternally decree {to will event A at time t1, to will B at t2, etc.}. God's will is eternal - it does not occur in time. So the whole temporal order is timeless, though the events in this order are temporal because of their tenseless yet temporal relations with each other (earlier/simultaneous/later).

In my own words, I think of the whole temporal order - the entire B-series - as a set: {A, B, C...}. A is the earliest event (or events) within this order, B is the next, and so on. A causes B, B causes C, and so on. While the entire set is eternally or timelessly created - hence God stands in static relationship to it and the events of the set, none of which possesses the tensed distinction of being "the present" - the set itself is not earlier/simultaneous/later than any other event, for there is no other event to which the creation of the temporal order could stand in [temporal] relation. However, A, B, C, etc. do stand in relation to each other in such a way, which is why we can say such events occur in time. They are earlier/simultaneous/later with respect to each other.

Thus, since there is no earlier event, the creation of the temporal order (the entire B-series set of events) is eternal. The entire created order is metaphysically dependent upon God's will, however (by definition, since created), so that creation would be eternal does not empty the word of its meaning.

If anyone is finding this difficult to understand, don't feel bad. I've read Craig's Time and Eternity (which was very helpful in introducing the material and written by an A-series theorist) Helm's Eternal God, and God and Time: Four Views, and I still have a hard time keeping it straight. I would recommend reading these books. Helm's summary view presented in God and Time: Four Views is viewable on googlebooks. It seems that he updated his views in Eternal God, though (e.g. possible worlds).

Scripturalism and self-knowledge

I've recently been discussing the possibility self-knowledge with some Scripturalists. Intuitively, I think that self-knowledge is compatible with Scripturalism. I’m simply not satisfied with what appears to be the current Scripturalist defense; perhaps that means I'm just slow on the uptake. In any case, the most powerful [and perhaps the only] objection can be strictly put as follows:

P1. There is no Scripture from which propositions in which “I” is the subject – where “I” implicitly refers to some individual who is born after the close of the canon – can be deduced.

P2. Until the second coming, Scripture comprises the extent of divine revelation.

P3. Propositions not deducible from divine revelation are unknowable.

C. Until the second coming, propositions in which “I” is the subject – where “I” implicitly refers to some individual who is born after the close of the canon – are not knowable.

This is a valid argument, so the question is whether or not the premises are true. I’ve probably argued for P3 half to death in a dozen or so posts on my blog. I haven’t found a Scripturalist who has rejected this premise, so I’m going to take it for granted. I thought P2 is sola scriptura and necessary to maintain that the canon is closed, but it seems a few Scripturalists would take exception to this and qualify it as follows: “Until the second coming, Scripture comprises the extent of public divine revelation.” P1 is what I expected most Scripturalists to reject.

Before examining P1 and P2, it is worth wondering what epistemic function self-knowledge serves. What is the fuss? Why would it be so bad to relegate self-knowledge to the level of opinion?

Can one who is born after the close of the canon know Scripturalism is true even if no proposition in which “I” is the subject – where “I” implicitly refers to some individual who is born after the close of the canon – can be philosophically known? It doesn’t seem so. It may be true that “one who is regenerate can know Scripturalism is true,” but if there is no such individual to whom this principle can be said to apply, that proposition can’t be verified. Why? One cannot hypothesize what one would believe if one were regenerate, for only actual regenerates know God’s voice. Without self-knowledge, for all one “knows” it may be possible that “one who is regenerate can know Scripturalism is false.”

This is a critical problem. It shows that unless one can know he is regenerate, a third person statement that the so-called Protestant canon of Scripture comprises the extent of [public] divine revelation is arbitrary. The connection between self-knowledge [of regeneration] and the need (on Scripturalism) for recognition of the canon of Scripture as such implies first person pronouns aren’t epistemically eliminable. Hence, P1 or P2 must be false.

As for which (or both) is false, I lean towards rejecting P1. Rejecting P2 would either entail a rejection of a closed canon or some distinction between canonical as public revelation and private revelation. I’m not aware of any Scripturalists who reject a closed canon. I do hear Revelation 2:17 cited as support from the latter distinction, but this just seems like sloppy exegesis. Revelation 2:17 refers to a point logically posterior to the second coming as seen in paralleling it to 2:7 (cf. Revelation 22). But that still leaves open the question as to whether or not those living in the last days prior to the second coming can possess self-knowledge.

I think a stronger argument would say that passages such as Romans 8:14-16 or 1 John 2:18-27 show that a believer possesses the Holy Spirit by which one is able to know, not merely opine, some his beliefs. This requires two considerations 1) a distinction between a historic/ontological order and an epistemic/logical order – i.e. “one can have self-knowledge only after he is regenerated” is true but still predicated on whether or not it can be deduced from Scripture – and 2) an understanding that these and similar passages can be legitimately interpreted as enthymematical – i.e. as applying to all Christians rather than only to those for whom the letters were originally written – a reasonable assumption because [hyper-]dispensationalism is false and the authors of Scripture didn’t personally know every Christian to whom they were writing (Romans 1:9-13, for instance, makes this clear).

But if an enthymematic interpretation is possible, that begs the question as to why an appeal to extra-canonical revelation is even necessary. One could seemingly reject P1 alone because “I” is implicit in such universal propositions. Abstract knowledge of the ego or “I” as a reflexive indexical can be deduced from Scripture; what else, then, would be necessary (also given the condition of regeneration) for self-knowledge?

UPDATE: Perhaps the temporal aspect needs to be addressed. At the time Scripture was written, anyone who was born later than the close of the canon was not alive by definition. On an A-series view of time, this would be problematic because it would not have been true at the time Scripture was written that "the Holy Spirit testifies that [Christian x who was born after the close of the canon] is a child of God." At best, then, a Scripturalist who would wish to compatibilize the belief that "all knowledge is now derived from Scripture" would have to say the meaning of Scripture changes concurrently with changes in individual assent to the Gospel. This doesn't appear feasible. On the other hand, a timeless God's knowledge never changes (neither in mode nor content). So the individuals who comprise the set of Christians would be immutably known and testified by God.

Also, to expand on what I meant by "...the "I" is implicit in such universal propositions...," the “universal proposition” to which I was referring was the enthymematic proposition “all those for whom the Holy Spirit testifies that they are children of God are Christians.” This proposition takes for granted a set of individuals for whom the Holy Spirit testifies that they are children of God. The individual members are implicit in any reference to the entire set.

Now, I don’t have anything against a public and private knowledge distinction that Scripturalists like Cheung make per se just as long as it doesn’t imply a source of knowledge other than Scripture. After all, I can’t demonstrate that I am not a figment of your imagination; knowledge claims about who I am are, by comparison, less fundamental. If it’s not a problem that I can’t demonstrate the former, there’s no reason to suppose it’s a problem that I can’t demonstrate the latter.

So while I may not be able to demonstrate to you, the reader, that the Holy Spirit indeed testifies that I am a child of God – that I am an individual implicit within any reference to the entire set of those for whom the Holy Spirit testifies that they are children of God – it is both possibly deducible from Scripture and true. And if it’s true, I both can and do know from Scripture that I am a Christian.

Epistemic Justification and Axioms

Among some interesting things I have been discussing with Drake Shelton, a fellow Scripturalist, one of the main subjects is the nature [and role] of axioms in [the justification of] an epistemic system (link). Drake has said that he is skeptical with regards to the truth of his axiom, which I argue undercuts his whole system of "knowledge." Rather, I have proposed the following:

One can know a theorem is true if it is contained in the body of propositions validly deducible from an axiom which yields a self-attesting, consistent philosophical system in which the ground and means of knowledge are explicated. Hence, while axioms by definition cannot be proven, there is nevertheless a mutual dependency inherent in the relationship between an axiom and its respective theorems. “By the systems they produce, axioms must be judged.”[5] As a theorem can be discredited if it does not follow from a purported axiom, an axiom can be falsified if it bears contradictories.

Gordon Clark, Clark and His Critics, 53.

...

I’m saying an axiom must be self-attesting, not that it is. Empiricism isn’t self-attesting because nothing one discovers empirically could ex hypothesi attest to the idea that empirical procedures alone are a means to knowledge: the claim is arbitrary. For this reason Clark is concerned in the early part of God’s Hammer to show that Scripture claims to be God’s word. There must be a mutual dependency in an epistemic system: an axiom which prescribes knowledge as coming through certain means yet cannot by those means prescribe the axiom itself is self-defeating. This is illogical and, hence, cannot be a system of knowledge.

Of course the question may be asked: how do I know the criteria of knowledge? Ultimately, by my own axiom, Scripturalism. Proximately, by necessary inference which, since such is accounted for in Scripture, refutes your charge of rationalism. I don’t begin with logic, I begin with Scripture which, since logic is accounted for in it, allows me to use logic to come to these conclusions.

A Short Thought on Zeno's Paradoxes

The purpose of Zeno's Paradoxes is to deny the possibility of [a certain conception of] motion. Now, so far as I know, no Scripturalists deny that there is a physical world [though late Clark may have been a pure idealist]. But if so, Scripturalists must be careful, for Jesus is often described as walking to some place or other in Scripture, and if these propositions correspond to the physical world - or if any Scriptural proposition corresponds to an event in the physical world - then accepting Zeno's denial of motion seems unfeasible unless qualified as applying to a certain view of motion, viz. one in which infinite divisibility or a Heraclitean flux of "space" and "time" can be applied. I don't see any reason to suppose Planck units and discontinuous change in space are illogical even if not able to be discovered via sensation.

God, Good, and Consequentialism

A while ago, I responded to someone with leanings towards open theism on an incongruency in the way in which certain Christians judge creaturely choices to be good [or sinful] as compared to how they judge God's choices to be good. Here is the argument:

I think when we employ a greater good theodicy (GGT), we are getting into some dangerous territory. Like when we use the moral argument, we want to say that the realm of objective facts is just as real as the natural realm. Certain things we just know are wrong. But then when it comes to the problem of evil, we say that things are happening for the greater good, and we can’t know if something is wrong. So we want to say we epistemically know right when it comes to other creatures, but when something bad happens we say God did or allowed it for a greater good and we can’t realize what that greater good is. Do you see what I’m driving at?

The GGT also seems to suggest that evil is necessary to the plan of God, as well as it commits seems to commit God to consequentialism, where the ends justify the means in determining what is right. And plus, say when we are poor for instance, why seek to get a better education or a better job when maybe God wills for us to be poor so that some greater good can come out of it? Or why should we help the poor if God is really working this or the greater good? For these reasons I think the GGT is inadequate and can for some people even be very damaging emotionally. (link)

I've addressed this implicitly in a view posts but never have directly responded to it. Here, I note:

God's praiseworthiness is measured on the same grounds as is ours, viz. by whether or not God's actions are to the purpose of the maximal manifestation His glory.

That is, the “greater good” so often alluded to in these conversations is usually agreed to be God’s glory (Romans 11:36).There is a bit of a disanalogy, however, in comparing God's choices to our own, as the above person says, i.e. God is committed to consequentialism. This point is well-taken in one sense but a bit imprecise. For instance, while I think God plans all things – evil included – for His glory, I do not think God Himself commits evil in the process. I would bite the proverbial bullet and claim that evil is indeed necessary to the plan of God, but I don’t see a problem in admitting this unless it is argued that this implies God does evil. Ends don't justify means.

I think the matter hinges on what it means to sin or do good. I would say that to sin is, at root, to scorn God’s glory whereas to do good is, at root, to intend to manifest God’s glory, which implies knowledge of how to do so. We know how to do so because God tells it to us; that is, the way in which we can tell whether man or God does good is by judging the choices of each in relation to whether or not they intend to and do manifest God’s glory. How can we discern this?

On God’s side of matters, the answer is simple. He does good because all that He does, even His inclusion of creaturely evil into His plan, is for the purpose of the manifestation of His glory. Any answer to “why” God planned something is, ultimately, that such manifests His glory. How evil can function towards this end is a matter of debate but a distinct issue.

On our side of matters, God has revealed that we should do all to His glory. How do we do that? Obedience to God’s commandments in faith (1 Corinthians 10:23-33, cf. Romans 14:13-23). Disobedience to God’s law (sin; 1 John 3:4), then, must be the scorning of God’s glory. And this makes sense, since disobedience to God is equivalent to a rejection of God’s authority.

So to take the example, say, of not providing for the poor when it is within our ability to do so, the response would be this: our choices can simultaneously be a creaturely disregard for God’s glory which nevertheless has been planned by God such that His glory will be manifested (e.g. Genesis 50:20). Whatever will happen – good or evil – has been planned by God for His glory; God is good. We may not have comprehensive knowledge of God’s plan, but then again, we don’t need to in order to know that we are responsible for the way in which our choices relate to God’s glory. Or as I put it here:

The chief end of man is to glorify God by following His commandments (1 John 5:3). As a matter of fact, the chief end of God is to glorify Himself in all that He does (Romans 9:22-23, Ephesians 3:10)

Or here:

The question “is everything as it ought to be?” lacks specificity. “Ought” implies responsibility, and while it may be jumping the gun to talk about what responsibility presupposes, all Christians should at least agree that it presupposes one to whom one is responsible. Men are responsible to God. God is responsible to Himself (Hebrews 6:13). If the question, then, is “is sinful man as he ought to be with respect to the laws of His sovereign?” the answer is unequivocally “no.” On the other hand, if the question is “ought God to have effected this reality?” the answer is “yes,” as Mr. Bryson can contend – but not substantiate, since one can only know counter-factuals via divine revelation – that a counter-factual world would more greatly manifest God’s glory.

This last sentence refers to the primary difference between God's choices and ours, or more precisely, God's intentions and ours. What the person at the top of this post did not take into consideration is that while it is within God's capacity as omnipotent sovereign to fulfill His intentions, man's intentions can fail to be fulfilled. A precondition of God's failing to manifest His glory, then, would be that God didn't intend to manifest His glory [which isn't a problem since such a situation isn't possible]. This is why it is necessary to highlight the fact that everything God has decreed successfully manifests His glory and why determination of evil (while at the same time not committing evil) can seem like consequentialism.

However, when people talk about consequential ethics, it is usually with the understanding that one cannot determine [what is, from his perspective,] the future. This is fundamentally problematic because it means, among other things, that the moral status of a given action can fluxuate - it's indeterminate. This is not so in the case of a sovereign God who has ordained all things. Furthermore, consequentialism doesn't take into consideration one's intentions. But God doesn't accidentally manifest His glory. That's the teleological end of all things.

So is God a consequentialist? Only in the qualified sense that a condition for God's choices to be labelled good is that they must successfully be to the purpose of the manifestation of His glory. But God isn't a consequentialist in the significant sense that the success of God's intentions is absent, uncertain, or indeterminate.

Parenthetically, men ought not be consequentialists for the same reason. If God has told us how we may manifest His glory, so long as we intend to manifest God's glory by following His commands, we do manifest His glory.

God, Language, and Scripturalism

I noted in this post that I believed Language is a precondition for knowledge. I say Language with an upper-case "L" to distinguish it from alleged, particular languages like English, Hebrew, Greek, etc. This is a helpful article which distinguishes Language (or linguistics) from languages as well as makes some other acute observations.

For Language to be a precondition for knowledge is just for it to be necessary in order to know. Why do I consider language to be a precondition for knowledge? This becomes clear when it is explained what knowledge (at least, "philosophical" knowledge) necessarily entails: belief in propositions.

But given this, I do not find that I can agree with Clark that "words are arbitrary signs" which "tag thoughts" (cf. here, especially the quotes under the subsection "Meaning and Symbols"). Clark's Language and Theology is an excellent book, but at the very least, I find this assertion to be an over-generalization. The rest of this post will explain why. Firstly:

P1) Language is a precondition for knowledge.

P2) God's [self-]knowledge is eternal.

C) Language is eternal.

It is at least the case God's knowledge of Himself is necessary. So Language is necessary and natural to God. That is, what God knows about Himself must be non-arbitrary, so Language - and by extension, some particular language or languages, as that is something propositions require - must be necessary.

Unless we are prepared to concede that the meaning of the object of knowledge is not propositional but rather supra-linguistic or beyond expression - in which case we seem to be left with some kind of Plotinic, transcendent experience - the words or signs or symbols in the propositions God necessarily knows must also be necessary. Simply put, if there are necessary, known propositions, there are also necessary words, signs, or symbols.

This is not to say that people cannot perhaps create arbitrary words, signs, and symbols and designate them to be univocal with some set of necessary propositions (although see the last paragraph). But there still remains the necessary fact of eternal, non-arbitrary words and propositions.

The question then is, in what way is or are eternal language(s) necessary? I see two options:

1) it is inherently meaningful.

2) it symbolizes something not reducible to linguistics similar to operalization of so-called "physical objects."

As I believe the majority of Scripturalists hold to the idealistic idea that all things are a congeries, set, or complex of propositions (with the possible exception of the physical world), it would seemingly follow that Scripturalists should opt for 1); otherwise, we are back to a correspondence theory of truth bereft of univocality, which is pretty much the primary reason Clark rejects empirical "knowledge."

Thus, to assent to truth could simply be to assent to the eternal, linguistic expressions of God's knowledge (or arbitrarily designated equivalents thereof). [It is hard for me to grasp the idea that propositions act and will; alternatives, however, seem to be worse.]

To clarify, for example, Greek and Hebrew are spoken by God, so we know that either:

1) both particular languages are arbitrarily created but valid equivalents of the language of God's eternal knowledge, as they both are comprised of words, signs, or symbols which can be univocally designated as equivalent in meaning to the eternal, propositional language(s) of God's [self-]knowledge, or

2) one (or both) of them is (are) actually the language of God's eternal knowledge.

Or perhaps there are no arbitrary words, signs, or symbols. If I write a truth in English, God knows it. But does that really mean I created truth? Instead, we might consider that there aren't really any "particular" languages except in a geographic sense. Just as you can learn an "English" word which is synonymous with another "English" word, you can learn an "Arabic" word which is synonymous with an "English" word. What I mean is that "English" and "Arabic" may not modify the words but rather describe the people who usually use the words. In this case, all "languages" are in some sense necessary. There would simply be different expressions of knowledge, like two sentences being interchangeable (the same proposition). This would actually make more sense to me as I continue to work to understand the philosophy of language.

Prelapsarian Anthropology: Some Thoughts

Man was created in the image of God (Genesis 1:26-27). All are still images of God (Acts 17:28), though the image has been marred such that one must be conformed to the image of Christ (Romans 8:29). Therefore, what man lost by virtue of the Fall cannot be an essential aspect of the imago Dei. If it were, men would no longer be the image of God.

Gordon Clark thought the essential property of the image of God is the innate faculty to reason. Man is by nature able to reason, and though this ability too has been dimmed due to sin, unregenerates with sufficient experience to occasion its use are nevertheless able to construct and understand propositions and even valid, if unsound, arguments:

The image must be reason because God is truth, and fellowship with him-a most important purpose in creation-requires thinking and understanding. Without reason man would doubtless glorify God as do the stars, stones, and animals; but he could not enjoy him forever. Even if in God’s providence animals survive death and adorn the heavenly realm, they cannot have what the Scripture calls eternal life because eternal life consists in knowing the only true God, and knowledge is an exercise of the mind or reason. Without reason there can be no morality or righteousness. These too require thought. Lacking these, animals are neither righteous nor sinful. (link)

There are some who have argued that man’s image must be understood with respect to his given tasks as well as the capacities used to fulfill said tasks (Genesis 1:28; link). However, I think this doesn’t work for a few reasons. Firstly, seemingly even on that view it is the last Adam rather than men who fulfills the stipulations of the Adamic covenant (see here and here). That being the case, if the or an essential feature of the image of God were functional, men would not and seemingly could not any longer image God. Secondly, considering Vos’ argument in Biblical Theology (pgs. 22-23) to the effect that if man’s function were an essential element in his makeup, he would have already known it, the fact Adam received special revelation explaining his function mitigates against the notion that it was essential to humanity:

The provision of this new, higher prospect for man was an act of condescension and high favour. God was in no wise bound on the principle of justice to extend [the covenant of works] to man, and we mean this denial not merely in the general sense in which we affirm that God owes nothing to man, but in the very specific sense that there was nothing in the nature of man nor of his creation, which by manner of implication could entitle man to such a favour from God. Had the original state of man involved any title to it, then the knowledge concerning it would probably have been formed part of man’s original endowment. But this not being so, no innate knowledge of its possibility could be expected. Yet the nature of an intensified and concentrated probation required that man should be made acquainted with the fact of the probation and its terms. Hence the necessity of a Special Revelation providing for this.

Does this mean fulfilling the Adamic covenant would have been by grace? No, for Adam's obedience to the dominion mandate in Genesis 1:28 and precept in Genesis 2:17 would have been the grounds for his inheritance. The point is that Adam's merit would have been pactum rather than condign. This is dissimilar to the covenant of grace in which our "personal obedience" is no longer the grounds for meriting our inheritance:

Man had been created perfectly good in a moral sense. And yet there was a sense in which he could be raised to a still higher level of perfection. On the surface this seems to involve a contradiction. It will be removed by closely marking the aspect in regard to which the advance was contemplated. The advance was meant to be from unconfirmed to confirmed goodness and blessedness; to the confirmed state in which these possessions could no longer be lost, a state in which man could no longer sin, and hence could no longer become subject to the consequences of sin. Man's original state was a state of indefinite probation: he remained in possession of what he had, so long as he did not commit sin, but it was not a state in which the continuance of his religious and moral status could be guaranteed him. In order to assure this for him, he had to be subjected to an intensified, concentrated probation, in which, if he remained standing, the status of probation would be forever left behind. The provision of this new, higher prospect for man was an act of condescension and high favour. (Biblical Theology pg. 22)

Thus, contrary to certain arguments against a Reformed anthropology, while there may be some similarity to Pelagianism in respect to one's personal obedience being the ground of fulfilling the Adamic covenant and inheriting eternal life, because Pelagians do not believe Adam was concreated morally upright, to argue against Reformed anthropology by alleging a correspondence between the two is specious.

Given the doctrine of original righteousness – that the moral character of man’s nature was indeed “very good” – the nature of what would have been merited by Adam is an interesting question. Is the implication that if he had completed the dominion mandate, then Adam would have merited eternal or, as Vos put it, “confirmed” life? It would appear that way, as Adam already possessed life, albeit mutably. The mutability of this life and the correlative righteousness mean that these too cannot be regarded as necessary to be in the image of God (although they may be necessary for healthily being in the image of God).

Aside from man’s rational faculty, one final common suggestion as to what distinguishes man as in God’s image is his [alleged] possession of “free will,” by which I mean not only the ability to choose – for Reformed Protestants believe men possess volitions – but also the ability to choose in such a way that it was not externally determined. Some Reformed Protestants think Adam possessed free will prior to the Fall, but it seems to me that there are at least two reasons why this can’t be the case:

1. Adam was originally righteous, so he could not have chosen to eat the apple according to his concreated “nature.” An inference one could draw from this would be that a precondition for Adam’s eating of the apple was the passive reception of a corrupt nature by means of secondary causation, e.g. the temptation of the serpent. Satan’s own reception of a corrupt nature would have had to have been on the occasion of some good, created thing. It is a sufficient defense to note that if God created Satan and other rational creatures with a capacity to be tempted and sin, there does not appear to be any reason to suppose that He could not also have created said creatures with the necessity to sin, given certain circumstances.

2. God’s knowledge of what Adam would choose was predicated on Adam’s actualizing one of two possible choices, God is not eternally omniscient, from which serious consequences for Christianity would follow.

Eternal Generation and Timelessness

As I've recently been reading about the nature of time and the nature of the Trinity, I have found Paul Helm's work to be good reading. For instance, he notes in God and Time: Four Views (pg. 33):

...the affirmation of God's timeless eternity appears to be necessary in order to avoid difficulties in affirming the eternal begetting of the Son by the Father; for if God is in time then the begetting of the Son looks like an event in time.

If the begetting of the Son is not an event in time, it is atemporal or timeless. But if the begetting of the Son is an event in time, then it seems that there was some time prior to the generation of the Son in which he was not generated. More precisely, the Son is not necessarily pre-existent. This leads to some bizarre conclusions: for example, "fatherhood" would be an accidental and acquired rather than an essential property of the first person of the Trinity. In fact, it would seem that pre-existence would be a and the only property that would be essential to the first person of the Trinity on this view. This would amount to a sort of reverse Arianism. It at least underscores the problems of a notion of time which infinitely extends into the "past."

I say all this to note that if one accepts eternal generation (and even if he does not), he must either accept divine timelessness or reject a host of classical Christian doctrines like divine immutability, the pre-existence of the Son (seemingly), and especially eternal or intuitive omniscience.

Helm provides a positive formulation for understanding eternal generation in the context of divine timelessness at the end of Eternal God (pgs. 284-286):

...while it may be granted that ‘begotten’ has a meaning distinct from ‘created’, that meaning is not wholly distinct, in that both ‘create’ and ‘beget’ are causal notions. How can the Father beget the Son without adversely affecting the equal divinity of each and the divine unity of the pair? It would seem to follow from being begotten (however this is understood) that the Son cannot be equally divine with the Father, in that he cannot be autotheos.

Perhaps it is possible to address these questions in the following way. For an atemporalist the eternal begetting of the Son by the Father cannot express a temporal relation of any kind. The Son cannot come into being at some time after the Father, nor (of course) can he come into being at the same time as the Father...

The nature of the begetting must be something like the following, then: there is no state of the Father that is not a begetting of the Son, and no state of the Son which is not a being begotten by the Father and necessarily there is no time when the Father had not begotten the Son, and no time when the Son had not been begotten by the Father...

The residual problem is not, how can the Son be co-divine when there was a time when the Father was and the Son was not, but, how could the Son have a timeless relation of begottenness while being equally divine with the Father? Perhaps a solution to this may be found in expunging the language of subordination entirely from the account of the Trinity, in asserting the co-equality of the Father and the Son, not their equality in every respect, but their equality in respect of divinity. The puzzle (to me at least) is why a satisfactory Trinitarian doctrine may not rest with saying that God exists in three co-eternal and equally divine persons. Is the language of begottenness and procession not a reading back into the doctrine of the Trinity those roles which according to the New Testament each person of the Trinity adopts in order to ensure human salvation?

I am not quite sure what Helm means by "equally divine" or "equality in respect of divinity" in the last paragraph. I find it hard to believe the "solution" he means to offer is the rejection of the very doctrine of eternal generation which he defended throughout the chapter. So here's what I think he means:

In the first paragraph, he seems to think autotheosis is relevant to divine co-equality. He may be puzzled as to why eternal generation would preclude the idea that the Son can be autotheos, for which reason he suggests "expunging the language of subordination entirely from the account of the Trinity." His final question seems to imply that the Scriptural evidence for the eternal generation of the Son relies on analogy: we see the economic activity of the Trinity and use that as a lens for understanding the ontological Trinity. My best guess, then, would be that Helm is suggesting that this lens should not be used to read the language of subordination which may be found in the economic activity of the Trinity back into the relations between the persons of the ontological Trinity. Thus, the Son may be autotheos yet eternally begotten.

If this is an accurate rephrasing - and if it's not, the apparent alternatives puzzle me! - it doesn't strike me as satisfying Helm's own earlier question: how can the Son be autotheos if he has been "caused" by the Father?

Regardless, I think Helm does a good job of explaining how eternal generation can be consistent with a theological system which holds to divine timelessness.