In part 1 we proposed first that the four-way division of Alexander's empire must have been established after 288 B.C., before which there were still five family lines in contention for his dominions, but prior to 281 B.C. at the Battle of Corupedium, after which only three family lines remained. We proposed, as well, that the four-way division of his empire "toward the four winds of heaven" (Daniel 8:8, 11:4)—would have been established at that time such that Thrace and Asia Minor (within the Taurus mountains) would constitute the northern kingdom, Egypt's territories the southern, Syria and beyond to Babylon the eastern, and Macedonia the western. Historically, biblical scholars in general and eschatologists in particular have struggled with the identification of the territories of Alexander's successors. The cause of the struggle is not difficult to understand. While Asia Minor with Thrace appears, at the outset, to be the Northern kingdom, and Egypt the Southern in accordance with Daniel 11:4, the detailed prophecy of a conflict between the kings of the North and South starting in 11:5 appears to have been fulfilled in the wars between the East and the South—that is, between the Seleucids in Syria and the Ptolemies in Egypt. Neither Daniel nor his angelic narrator pause to explain why.

The Inadequacy of the Shifting Frame

That apparent inconsistency has led to some rather creative cartography in the history of Danielic eschatology through the introduction of a Shifting Frame of Reference. In Daniel 11:4, Asia Minor with Thrace appears to be the northern kingdom in what we might call an Alexandrian Frame of Reference, centered as it is on Alexander's former domains. Then, between Daniel 11:4 and 11:5, the frame of reference suddenly and inexplicably changes, and from that point forward (so the theories go), Syria is the Northern kingdom. We call this the Judæan Frame of Reference, centered as it is on Judæa, with Syria to the North, and Egypt to the South.

Jerome's Use of the Shifting Frame

Jerome (347 – 420 A.D.) was the first patristic writer to attempt to solve the inconsistency between the prophecy and its fulfillment through the introduction of a Shifting Frame of Reference. After identifying "Asia Minor and Pontus and of the other provinces in that whole area" as "the north" in Daniel 11:4, Jerome reasoned that Daniel must have changed his frame of reference in the next verse “because Judaea lay in a midway position” between Syria and Egypt (Jerome, Commentary on Daniel, 11:4-5). There is hardly a commentary on Daniel 11 that does not in some way invoke that Judæan Frame of Reference to solve the difficulty.

Calvin's Use of the Shifting Frame

Calvin appealed to that shifting frame of reference in similar fashion. In his commentary on Daniel 8:8, Calvin described the division of the empire in an Alexandrian Frame of Reference. Cassander was to the west in Macedonia, Ptolemy was to the south in Egypt, while "the kingdom of Persia, which was possessed by Seleucus, was towards the east and united with Syria; the kingdom of Asia [Minor] was to the north" (Calvin, Commentary on Daniel 8:8; see Figure 1, below).

But when Calvin commented on Daniel 11, he shifted to a Judæan Frame of Reference. Macedonia was still West and Egypt was still South, but Asia Minor was now East, and Syria had become North, "[f]or Egypt was situated to the south of Judea, and Syria to the north"(Calvin, Commentary on Daniel, 11:4; see Figure 2, below).

The Underlying Invalid Assumption

From Jerome to Calvin, and for many centuries beyond, the Shifting Frame of Reference in chapter 11 has been a staple of Danielic eschatology. We have been told that the frame of reference simply must have changed mid-prophecy, for that is the only way to make sense of wars foreseen to occur between North and South, but apparently fulfilled between East and South.

In truth, however, the difficulty is of our own making. The underlying issue that has made the Shifting Frame of Reference an eschatological necessity is the invalid assumption that the appellation "king of the north" must be dynastic in nature, attached to a family line. If we assume that "king of the north" refers to a family line, then "the north" of necessity must refer only to the Seleucids—making Syria "north" regarding the wars, even though it is "east" regarding the division. However, as we argued in part 1, the appellation should rather be a geographic one, attached not to a family line but to a territory. Under that rubric, the title "king of the north" would only attach to whomever was the rightful king over the northern territory.

The "Northern Period" of the Seleucids

Such a situation as we have described compels us to reevaluate how Daniel 11 is interpreted, for the geographic data invalidate the Shifting Frame that has for almost two thousand years informed our understanding of Daniel 11. To illustrate the significance of such a change, we will walk through the verses that refer to the "king of the north." In doing so we will refer often to the commentary of Jerome because his geographic errors are of great consequence and have had an inordinate influence on the later commentaries. As we have affirmed and will here demonstrate, "king of the north" applies to the Seleucids only when they reign in Asia Minor, i.e., during periods when they hold the double crown, both East and North.

Daniel 11:6

"And in the end of years they shall join themselves together; for the king’s daughter of the south shall come to the king of the north to make an agreement ..."

It is 252 B.C.. The "king of the north" is Antiochus II, the third generation of Seleucid kings to claim the northern territory. The "king's daughter of the south" is Berenice, daughter of Ptolemy II, king of Egypt. Here Jerome committed one of his several geographic mistakes by assuming that Antiochus II must have been ruling in Syria at the time of the fulfillment (Jerome, Commentary on Daniel, 11:6). As we noted last week, Antiochus II was actually reigning in Ephesus with his wife, Laodice, when Ptolemy II approached him to offer his daughter in marriage. Antiochus II only relocated to Antioch after the agreement with Ptolemy, in order to set up a second household with Berenice. Antiochus was truly "king of the north," that is, Asia Minor and Thrace, when Berenice was offered to him, and as we noted last week, he maintained a household in Ephesus, and eventually abandoned Berenice in Antioch and returned to his first love in Asia Minor.

Daniel 11:7

"But out of a branch of her roots shall one stand up in his estate, which shall come with an army, and shall enter into the fortress of the king of the north, and shall deal against them, and shall prevail:"

It is 246 B.C.. The "branch of her roots" refers to Berenice's brother, Ptolemy III. Their father, Ptolemy II, had since died, and Berenice and her child by Antiochus II had been murdered at the instigation of Laodice (Appian, History of Rome, The Syrian Wars, 65). Antiochus II, now dead, left his son, Seleucus II, reigning in Ephesus with his mother, Laodice. It is here again that Jerome, following Porphyry, makes significant geographic mistake, assuming under a Judæan Frame of Reference that Seleucus II must have been reigning in Antioch at the time:

"He [Ptolemy III] came up with a great army and advanced into the province of the king of the North, that is Seleucus [II] Callinicus, who together with his mother Laodice was ruling in Syria" (Jerome, Commentary on Daniel, 11:7-9)

The truth is, the ascension of Seleucus II occurred not in Syria, but rather in Asia Minor where Antiochus II died, and where Seleucus II had been under the care of his mother, Laodice, since Antiochus' marriage to Berenice (Eusebius, Chronicle [p. 249-51]).

After the murder of his sister, Ptolemy III could not stand idly by, so he launched an all out offensive against the Seleucids. The commentaries typically focus only on Ptolemy III's eastern offensive, in which he "secured for himself the whole country from Taurus to India, without a single engagement” (Polyænus, Strategems, Book 8, Chapter 50.1). That campaign is typically taken to be the fulfillment of Daniel's prophecy that the king of the south "shall enter into the fortress of the king of the north, and shall deal against them, and shall prevail," but such an interpretation assumes a Judæan Frame of Reference in which Syria is north. In an Alexandrian Frame of Reference in which Asia Minor is north, Ptolemy would have invaded Asia Minor and Thrace where the Seleucids currently lived. The historical record shows that he did exactly that.

In this war, Ptolemy III launched an invasion not only in the east, but also in the north, subduing major parts of Thrace and Asia Minor. Ptolemy III's offensive is thus described in the historical record as a “campaign against the two lands of Asia” (Canopus Decree, 6), both Major and Minor, East and North. In this campaign against the house of Seleucus, Ptolemy III had "become master of ... Pamphylia and Ionia [in Asia Minor] and the Hellespont and Thrace..." (The Adoulis Inscription, Orientis graeci inscriptiones selectae (OGIS) 54). Truly, the king of the south had "enter[ed] into the fortress of the king of the north," capturing both Sardis and Ephesus in his northern campaign (Eusebius, Chronicle [p. 249-51]).

Daniel 11:8-9

"And shall also carry captives into Egypt their gods, with their princes, and with their precious vessels of silver and of gold; and he shall continue more years than the king of the north. So the king of the south shall come into his kingdom, and shall return into his own land."

It is about 241 B.C., and Ptolemy III the victor returns to Egypt with his accumulated treasures. The commentaries typically refer here to Ptolemy's conquest of the east and the return of eastern treasures to Egypt. We simply highlight here, from the Adoulis Inscription referenced above, that Ptolemy had conquered not only the whole east, but also major portions of the north, returning to Egypt with the treasures from both kingdoms:

“Having become master of all the land this side of the Euphrates and of Cilicia and Pamphylia and Ionia and the Hellespont and Thrace and of all the forces and Indian elephants in these lands, and having made subject all the princes in the (various) regions, he crossed the Euphrates river and after subjecting to himself Mesopotamia and Babylonia and Sousiana and Persis and Media and all the rest of the land up to Bactria and having sought out all the temple belongings that had been carried out of Egypt by the Persians and having brought them back with the rest of the treasure from the (various) regions he sent his forces to Egypt through the canals that had been dug.” (The Adoulis Inscription, OGIS 54).

It is only after invading both the East and the North that the southern king brought back the accumulated treasures to Egypt, and those treasures included the spoils of Asia Minor and Thrace, the northern kingdom.

A Brief Interlude

In Ptolemy III's incursion into Asia Minor and Thrace, the Seleucids had been pushed as far north as Smyrna, where we find Seleucus II in 242 B.C. making his preparations to cross into Syria to recover his Eastern kingdom from Ptolemy III (Bagnall, Roger S., Derow, Peter, The Hellenistic Period: Historical Sources in Translation, Smyrnaean Inscription (Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, ©2004) 56-62). The war in Syria does not go well and Seleucus II “despatched a letter to his brother Antiochus" in Asia Minor requesting help. Instead, Antiochus simply usurps the throne from Seleucus II and claims Asia Minor as his own. Seleucus II was forced to secure a hasty truce from Ptolemy III and returned to Asia Minor to deal with his rebellious younger brother (Justinus’ Epitome of the Philippic History, Book XXVII.2). The rivalry ended in catastrophe for the Seleucid line. When all the dust had settled, the Seleucids had been overthrown from the north, and King Attalus of Pergamon "had appropriated all [the Seleucid] dominions on this side of the Taurus" in Asia Minor (Polybius, The Histories, Book 4.48.7). Both Seleucus II, and his younger brother died outside of Asia Minor as exiles (Justinus’ Epitome of the Philippic History, Book XXVII.4).

Quite notably, and very much to our point, the angel completely skips over this brief period of Seleucid exile from Asia Minor, making no mention of these events in chapter 11. When the angel takes up the narrative with the sons of Seleucus II, they are in exile as their father had been, and making plans to take back the northern kingdom from Attalus. As we shall see, the angel withholds from them the title "king of the north" until after Asia Minor is back in the hands of the House of Seleucus.

Daniel 11:10

"But his sons shall be stirred up, and shall assemble a multitude of great forces: and one shall certainly come, and overflow, and pass through: then shall he return, and be stirred up, even to his fortress."

It is now 226 B.C.. Fifteen years have elapsed since verse 9. Seleucus II has died, and his sons are still in exile. Upon taking the crown, the elder son Seleucus III "crossed the Taurus at the head of a great army" to recover his father's former dominions, but soon perished. His kinsman, Achæus, sent immediately for Antiochus III to come to Asia Minor from the East and take his fallen brother's crown and throne.

While he waited for Antiochus III to arrive in Asia Minor, Achæus continued the mission and "recovered the whole of the country on this side of Taurus." In an act of deference, Achæus initially refused to take the crown, "holding the throne for the younger brother Antiochus [III]" (Polybius, The Histories, Book 4.48.6-10). Upon his ascension, Antiochus III "began to reign, entrusting the government of Asia on this side of Taurus to Achaeus and that of the upper provinces to Molon and his brother Alexander, Molon being satrap of Media and Alexander of Persia" (Polybius, The Histories, Book 5.40.6). With his kingdom so arranged Antiochus III turns his attention to Ptolemy III and the task of taking Coele-Syria.

It is now 220 B.C., and Ptolemy III has died, succeeded by Ptolemy IV. Antiochus III has assembled his army and is "ready and eager to invade Coele-Syria" (Polybius, The Histories, Book 5.42.9). But there is a significant matter requiring the king's attention: Ptolemy IV still occupies "Seleucia which was the capital seat and, one might almost say, the sacred hearth of their empire." The Syrian city "had been garrisoned by the kings of Egypt ever since ... the murder of Berenice" (Polybius, The Histories, Book 5.58.1-9). Convinced by his generals of the importance of the city, Antiochus III sets aside his designs on Coele-Syria, and instead takes back Seleucia in 219 B.C. (Polybius, The Histories, Book 5.60-61).

Thus were Seleucus II's sons both "stirred up" to assemble a multitude of forces, but only one actually returned, and was "stirred up, even to his fortress."

Daniel 11:11

"And the king of the south shall be moved with choler, and shall come forth and fight with him, even with the king of the north: and he shall set forth a great multitude; but the multitude shall be given into his hand"

The year is 217 B.C.. After some initial victories in Coele-Syria (Polybius, The Histories, Book 5.70-71), Antiochus III presses on to Raphia where Ptolemy IV destroys his forces in a decisive battle:

"His losses in killed alone had amounted to nearly ten thousand footmen and more than three hundred horsemen, while more than four thousand had been taken prisoners." (Polybius, The Histories, Book 5.86.5)

Antiochus III sues for peace, and turns his attention back to Asia Minor where Achæus has rebelled, but with only moderate success because the army refused to support him against "their original and natural king" (Polybius, The Histories, Book 5.57.6). Antiochus III pursues Achæus to Sardis, captures him, and executes him for his crime (Polybius, The Histories, Book 8.21). The year is 213 B.C..

Daniel 11:12

"And when he hath taken away the multitude, his heart shall be lifted up; and he shall cast down many ten thousands: but he shall not be strengthened by it."

The outcome of Ptolemy IV's decisive victory against Antiochus III yields the opposite of what he expected back home in Egypt. His army, emboldened by its victory, turned on Ptolemy IV and seceded, taking Upper Egypt with them (Polybius, The Histories, Book 5.107.1-3). What is more, his victory at Raphia did not secure his possession of Coele-Syria, for Antiochus III would eventually return and take it from him.

Daniel 11:13

"For the king of the north shall return, and shall set forth a multitude greater than the former, and shall certainly come after certain years with a great army and with much riches."

In the years since his defeat at Raphia, Antiochus III has not been idle. He is still governing as king of Asia Minor, as evidenced by his letters to the people at Sardis in 213 B.C. (Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum: 39.1283-12856). In 205 B.C. he is resettling "two thousand families of Jews" from Mesopotamia and Babylon to Phrygia and Lydia, in the interior of Asia Minor, being "persuaded that they will be well-disposed guardians of our possessions" there (Josephus, Antiquities of the Jews, Book 12, chapter 147). In 204 B.C., he receives the adulation of the city of Teos on the western coast of Asia Minor "concerning the foundation of the cult in honor of King Antiochos III" and his wife, the queen ("Divine Honors for Antiochos and Laodike at Teos and Iasos," Franciszek Sokolowski, Greek Roman and Byzantine Studies, 13, 171-6 (1972)). It is during this period also that Antiochus III receives the epithet, "Magnus" during his successful expeditions in the east (Appian, Syrian Wars, 1.1).

In his newfound strength and wealth, Antiochus III returns to fight the king of Egypt, still holding both crowns, East and North. This time he utterly destroys the army of the child king Ptolemy V, under the command of Scopas at Panium, and at last takes possession of Coele-Syria (Polybius, The Histories, Book 16.18-19). The year is 200 B.C..

Daniel 11:14

"And in those times there shall many stand up against the king of the south: also the robbers of thy people shall exalt themselves to establish the vision; but they shall fall."

The angelic narrator pauses to describe the general state of affairs for the king of the south and the Jews during "those times." As noted under verse 12, Ptolemy IV's victory at Raphia, rather than solidifying his army's loyalty, instead emboldened them to seek independence from him. As Günther Hölbl, historian of the Ptolemaic Empire, describes, the period after Raphia was defined by instability, rebellion, insurrection and civil war in Egypt:

"In the years following 217, some men of the new military class led a revolt against the Ptolemaic regime in the northern part of the country. ... A papyrus dating to the end of the third century, probably sill during [Ptolemy IV's] reign, describes how Egyptian bandits attacked a military post and a temple precinct; ... From the Rosetta Stone we also know that, at the end of [Ptolemy IV's] reign, civil war raged in the Delta." (Hölbl, Günthner, A History of the Ptolemaic Empire (London and New York: Routledge (2001) 154)

Under the reign of his son, Ptolemy V, who was just a child when he took the throne, Antiochus III and Phillip of Macedon immediately set upon his dominions, "tearing to shreds the boy's kingdom" (Polybius, The Histories, Book 15.20.6). Thus did "many stand up against the king of the south" ... "in those times."

During the same period, the tax-farming, phil-hellenic Jewish Tobiads arose to prominence in Judæa under Ptolemy IV and Ptolemy V, gladly switching sides to Antiochus III after his victory at Panium (Josephus, Antiquities of the Jews, Book 12, 154-185). The rise of these phil-hellenic Jews set the stage for a watershed conflict that would unfold between the Tobiads and the Maccabees later under Antiochus IV.

Daniel 11:15

"So the king of the north shall come, and cast up a mount, and take the most fenced cities: and the arms of the south shall not withstand, neither his chosen people, neither shall there be any strength to withstand."

Antiochus III is still king in Asia Minor within the Taurus mountains. After his victory at Panium, he quarters for winter and then proceeds to reduce Ptolemy V's fortified citadels along the southern coast of Asia Minor.

The commentaries typically relate that Antiochus III "besieged [Scopas] in Sidon together with ten thousand of his soldiers" (Jerome, Commentary on Daniel 11:15-16). However, no evidence of this siege has ever been found, except the mentions made of it in Jerome's and Porphyry's commentaries on Daniel. No Greek or Roman historian ever made note of it.

The evidence we do have for the fulfillment of the prophecy is from Livius, who describes Antiochus III's naval campaign as it is in progress against Ptolemy V's fortified citadels that dotted the southern coast of Asia Minor, south of the Taurus mountains:

“His object was … to attempt the reduction of the cities along the whole coastline of Cilicia, Lycia and Caria which owed allegiance to Ptolemy... He had so far secured Zephyrium, Soli, Aphrodisias and Corycus, and after rounding Anemurium—another Cilician headland—had captured Selinus. All these towns and other fortified places on this coast had submitted to him either voluntarily or under the stress of fear, but Coracesium unexpectedly shut its gates against him.” (Livius, History of Rome, Book 33.19-20)

Facing resistance, Antiochus III had no option but to surround and besiege Coracesium, one of Ptolemy V's most prized strongholds. Unable to defend his own fortresses, the Romans attempted to intervene and demanded that Antiochus III "restore to Ptolemy [V] all the towns that he had taken from him after the death of Ptolemy [IV]" (Polybius, The Histories, Book 18.1.14)

Loss of the Northern Crown

This concludes the section of Daniel 11 that deals with the Northern Period of the House of Seleucus. As we noted in part 1, the next verses of Daniel 11 address the defeat of Antiochus III at the Battle of Magnesia in 190 B.C., and the eviction of the Seleucid line from Asia Minor and Thrace under the terms of the Treaty of Apamea in 188 B.C.. From that point onward, the northern territory of Asia Minor and Thrace was forbidden to the Seleucids, and they were confined to the east as Kings of Syria. After Antiochus III dies, his sons rule after him in Syria, the younger of whom will "obtain the kingdom by flatteries" (Daniel 11:21) and become a significant figure through Daniel 11:39. Notably, the angel keeps talking about the Seleucids, but simply stops calling them "king of the north." That leads us to a conclusion about Daniel 11 that completely eliminates the need for the Shifting Frame introduced by Jerome at 11:5. The frame of reference appears to have remained static since verse 5.

The Shifting Frame was Unnecessary

As the historical record bears out, the Seleucids actually ruled in Asia Minor and Thrace in the early years depicted in Daniel 11, and whenever the angelic narrator foresees them as "king of the north," the prophecy is fulfilled by Seleucids who are in possession of the north. Then the Seleucids are evicted, ruling thenceforth only the east, and the angel simply stops calling them "king of the north." In other words, what was "north" in Daniel 8:8 and 11:4 remained "north" for the whole prophecy, and there was never a need to impose a Judæan Frame of Reference at all. The single Alexandrian Frame of Reference in which the chapter was apparently written was sufficient all along.

The Eschatological Implications

The implications of approaching Daniel 11 in a single frame of reference are far reaching, but we will address only one of them here. The "king of the north" is mentioned again in Daniel 11:40, and though Porphyry tried in vain to show that Antiochus IV made one last foray into Egypt, the historical record shows otherwise. The reality is that nothing about Daniel 11:40-45 even remotely resembles the career of any Seleucid kings, but the angel just kept on narrating as if foreseeing a continuous history of the Greek empire—start to finish.

Unable to find a clear fulfillment in the Seleucids at the end of the chapter, eschatologists typically resort again to a shifting frame. Some initiate a new frame of reference as early as verse 21, others as late as verse 40. The governing assumption of the new frame is that there must be yet another unannounced discontinuity in the prophecy, causing the latter part of the chapter to be centered on the location of a distant future antagonist. Jerome, for example, suggested that the prophecies after verse 24 "are spoken prophetically of the Antichrist who is to arise in the end time" (Jerome, Commentary on Daniel 11:24).

We suggest, however, that if the Shifting Frame of Reference was unnecessary earlier in the chapter, then yet another frame is also unnecessary at the end. There is a simpler solution than to keep changing the frame of reference to make the prophecy fit historical events. In any case the text (we hasten to add) only mentions one reference frame in the first place.

The solution we offer is a very simple one: if chapter 11 is a continuous narrative written in a single frame of reference (as it appears to be), and the title "king of the north" is geographic rather than dynastic (as the evidence shows), then the answer to the mystery of Daniel 11:40-45 is not to be found in Syria or in the Seleucids or even in a distant future antagonist by importing yet another frame of reference. The answer is rather to be found in Asia Minor and Thrace, to the north. We should simply look there to find out who was "king of the north." It certainly was not the Syrian Seleucids, banned forever from the northern territory by the Romans.

But somebody eventually became "king of the north"—king over Asia Minor and Thrace—years after the eviction of the Seleucids, and that somebody did exactly what he was prophesied to do, fulfilling the entirety of Daniel 11:40-45 before Rome even had her first emperor. The fulfillment has been overlooked, at least in part, because our eyes have been drawn ever eastward—thanks to Jerome and his Shifting Frame of Reference—when we should have been looking north.

We will address the remaining verses of Daniel 11 in a later series.

"… Asia Minor rather than Syria or the East seems [to have been] the chief sphere of Seleucid activity..." — Edwyn Robert Bevan (1902)

When Alexander the Great died in 323 B.C., his family, his generals and his closest friends spent the following decades trying to sort out the future and face of Hellenism in a post-Alexandrian world. It was not a simple undertaking. The process was riddled with murder, backstabbing, betrayal and geopolitical intrigue that spanned four decades and three continents. Alexander's potential successors, the Diadochi, as history would come to know them, were reduced from about 20 in 323 B.C. to just five viable family lines after the Battle of Ipsus in 301 B.C.. The Diodochi were subsequently reduced to four in 288 B.C. when one of the family lines was reduced to obscurity and no longer in contention. In 281 B.C. at the Battle of Corupedium, the Diodochi were reduced to just three. There is a great deal of history to sort through to understand the reduction of the Diadochi, how they related to each other, and how they understood the boundaries of their dominions. However, if we are to take seriously the prophetic implications of the visions of Daniel, the period between 288 and 281 B.C. is of paramount importance, and we should become familiar with it. No eschatology can be complete without understanding it. It is the only post-Alexandrian period during which Hellenism enjoyed exactly four successor kings in Asia Minor, Egypt, Syria and Macedonia—north, south, east and west—respectively. Their identities and territories matter.

Their identities and territories matter to us first because the Book of Daniel repeatedly describes—both explicitly and figuratively—four successor kingdoms after Alexander, "divided toward the four winds of heaven" (see Daniel 7:6, 8:8, 8:22, 11:4). Before 288 B.C., there were too many kings, and after 281 B.C. there appear to be too few. Something significant happened during those seven years in the early 3rd century B.C., and as we shall demonstrate, the contemporary Greek world took note of it. They knew very well that Alexander's dominions had been divided four ways, a status quo that endured even when only three families of the Diodochi remained.

Second, their identities and territories matter to us because the ensuing conflict between the king of the north and the king of the south occupies a significant portion of the narrative of Daniel 11. Each king is repeatedly invading the other's territory. Unless we can identify their territories, we can make no sense of the conflict. What makes the chapter especially challenging is that the nations and boundaries of the warring kings are never explicitly described. The angel refers repeatedly and explicitly to countries, regions, territories, cities and other locations with varying degrees of geographic specificity: Media (v. 1), Persia (v. 2), Greece (v. 2), Egypt (vv. 8, 42, 43), Israel (i.e., the glorious land, vv. 16, 41, 20, cf. Ezekiel 20:15), the Greek Isles (v. 18), Chittim (v. 30), Edom, Moab and Ammon (v. 41), Libya, (v. 43), Ethiopia (v. 43), and the temple mount (v. 45). Yet despite the extensive use of specific geographic designations, the angelic narrator nonetheless refrains from referring to the territories of the warring kings except by the cardinal directions, north and south. Their boundaries are unknown to us except in the fulfillment of prophecy.

Although the text does not actually specify it, the king of the north has traditionally been identified with the territory of Syria. We propose that upon examination of the Scriptural evidence and the historical record, the king of the north should instead be identified with Asia Minor (modern day Turkey) and Thrace. We do not deny that the early prophecies of Daniel 11—from verses 5 to 39—deal exclusively with a Syrian king in conflict with an Egyptian king. In fact we insist that such is the case. What we shall demonstrate, however, is that the Syrian king is called "king of the north" only during the periods when he held both the eastern crown and the northern crown, reigning over both Syria and Asia Minor. Although the Syrian king fulfills the prophecies of Daniel 11:5-39, he is never called "king of the north" unless he is actually ruling over the northern territory of Asia Minor and Thrace.

This, of course, has significant implications for our understanding of Daniel 11:40-45, the last time the "king of the north" is mentioned in Scripture. But let us for now turn our attention to the Diadochi.

Reduction to Five (323 - 301 B.C.)

The most notorious reductions of the Diadochi were performed by Alexander’s own bereaved mother, Olympias, and his general Cassander. Olympias murdered Alexander’s half-brother Aridæus in 317 B.C. (Diodorus Siculus, Library of History,Book 19.11.5), and Cassander then murdered Olympias in 316 B.C, to safeguard his claims to the Macedonian throne (Diodorus Siculus, Book 19.51.4-5). Cassander then put to death Alexander’s mistress, Barsine, and his son by her, Hercules, in 309 B.C. (Diodorus Siculus, Book 20.28.1-3; Pausanias, Description of Greece 9.7.2; Justinus, Epitome 15.2) and eliminated Alexander’s wife, Roxanne, and her son Alexander IV in 310 B.C. (Justinus, Epitome 15.2, Pausanias, Description of Greece 9.7.2).

With Alexander’s mother, wife, mistress, brother and sons removed from the picture, the remaining Diadochi each began to claim the right of succession. Alexander's general, Antigonus, was first to take the crown, claiming it also for his son Demetrius as co-regent (Diodorus Siculus, Library of History, Book 20.47-53; Justinus, Epitome 15.2). Alexander's other friends and generals—Seleucus, Ptolemy, Lysimachus and Cassander—quickly followed suit and took crowns as well (Diodorus Siculus, Library of History, Book 20.53.2-4; Justinus, Epitome 15.2; Plutarch, Life of Demetrius 18:1-2). Fearing the growing dominance and belligerence of the co-regents of the Antigonid line, “Ptolemy and Cassander, forming an alliance with Lysimachus and Seleucus, made vigorous preparations for war by land and sea” (Justinus, Epitome 15.1). Antigonus in turn summoned Demetrius to his side “since all the kings had united against him” (Diodorus, Book 20.109.5).

This was the prelude to the watershed Battle of Ipsus in 301 B.C. where Antigonus and Demetrius together “made war against a coalition of four kings, Ptolemy, son of Lagus, king of Egypt, Seleucus, king of Babylonia, Lysimachus, king of Thrace, and Cassander, son of Antipater, king of Macedonia” (Diodorus Siculus, Library of History, Fragments of Book 21.4b). At the conclusion of that battle, Antigonus was dead (Plutarch, Life of Demetrius, 29.5) and Demetrius was on the run with only 5,000 soldiers and 4,000 horses remaining (Plutarch, Life of Demetrius, 30.1). The remainder of Alexander’s empire was thus left to the victors, Ptolemy, Cassander, Seleucus and Lysimachus (Plutarch, Life of Demetrius, 30.1). Or so it would seem. But it would be a mistake to count out the Antigonid line so soon. Demetrius had been defeated but he was not dead. He had merely retreated to fight another day.

Defeated but not destroyed, Demetrius retired to Ephesus to regroup (Diodorus Siculus, Library of History, Fragments of Book 21.4b; Plutarch, Life of Demetrius, 30.2; Eusebius, Chronicle (p. 247)), “and gathered up … the remnants of his [father’s] imperium” (Justinus, Prologi, XV). He retained Cyprus and controlled the eastern Mediterranean Sea (Plutarch, Life of Demetrius, 33.1-4). Within a few years he was a regional superpower again, fielding both an army and a navy almost as impressive as any that Alexander had ever deployed (Plutarch, Life of Demetrius, 44.1). Ipsus had not reduced the Diadochi to four. It had only reduced them to five:

• The Antigonid Line: Demetrius, son of Antigonus; • The Seleucid Line: Seleucus I “Nicator”; • The Lagid Line: Ptolemy I “Soter,” son of Lagus; • The Lysimachæan Line: Lysimachus of Thrace; and • The Antipatrid Line: Cassander of Macedonia

Reduction to Four (301 - 288 B.C.)

Within four years of Ipsus, Cassander died, leaving his unstable Macedonian kingdom to his three sons, Philippus, Alexander and Antipater. Philippus “died soon after his father,” and the remaining two “were perpetually at variance” (Plutarch, Life of Demetrius, 36.1), and Demetrius was now threatening the unstable kingdom. Lysimachus, king of Thrace and with vast holdings in Asia Minor, failed to persuade the warring brothers to make peace with each other (Justinus, Epitome 16.1). Demetrius soon had Cassander's son, Alexander, killed (Plutarch, Life of Demetrius, 36:1-6), and then convinced the people of Macedonia that it would be unfitting for anyone in Cassander’s line—which was responsible for the murder of Alexander’s mother, wife, mistress and children—to occupy Alexander’s former throne. Accepting this rationale, the people made Demetrius king of Macedonia in 294 B.C. (Plutarch, Life of Demetrius 37:2-3; Justinus, Epitome 16.1).

About this time Ptolemy had taken back Cyprus from Demetrius (Plutarch, Life of Demetrius, 35.3) and maintained control of his territories in “Egypt, with the greater part of Africa, Cyprus, and Phoenicia” (Justinus, Epitome 15.1). Seleucus was firmly entrenched in the eastern provinces “from India to the Syrian Sea” (Plutarch, Life of Demetrius, 32.7) and Demetrius was king of Macedonia. With Cassander’s line no longer in contention for a crown, the Diadochi had been reduced to four.

With only four left, each of sufficient strength to engage but not dominate the others, new alliances formed. Seleucus married Demetrius’ daughter in an attempt to forge an east-west alliance with Macedonia. Lysimachus and his son each married a daughter of Ptolemy, in an attempt to forge a north-south alliance with Egypt (Plutarch, Life of Demetrius, 31.5). The alliances did not last long.

Demetrius seized Cilicia from his new brother-in-law, and refused Seleucus’ offer to purchase it back from him (Plutarch, Life of Demetrius, 46.7). Nor would Demetrius cede to him control of Tyre and Sidon (Plutarch, Life of Demetrius, 32.7). Demetrius, having now regained his strength (Plutarch, Life of Demetrius, 31.3) was also “master of Macedonia and Thessaly,” as well as a “great part of Peloponnesus too, and the cities of Megara and Athens” (Plutarch, Life of Demetrius, 39.1). Attempting to restore the empire of his father (Plutarch, Life of Demetrius, 43.2), he now set his sights on Asia Minor. He raised an army of 98,000 men and 12,000 horses and was building 500 ships (Plutarch, Life of Demetrius, 43.3-4), preparing “such an armament for the invasion of Asia as no man ever had before him, except Alexander the Great” (Plutarch, Life of Demetrius, 44.1).

With Demetrius renewing his belligerence, the others—Seleucus in the east, Ptolemy in the south, and Lysimachus in the north—had no option but once again to form an alliance against him. They invited Pyrrhus, king of Epirus to join them (Plutarch, Life of Demetrius, 44.1). As Lysimachus invaded Macedonia from Thrace, and Ptolemy sent a fleet from Egypt, Pyrrhus was troubling Demetrius from the west, and in the end, Lysimachus and Pyrrhus divided Macedonia between themselves (Plutarch, Life of Demetrius, 44.2-3).

Despairing, but not defeated, Demetrius’ hope for a kingdom seemed to be entirely extinguished. "[A]nd yet," Plutarch informs us, "it broke out again, and shone with new splendour. Fresh forces came in, and gradually filled up the measure of his hopes.” Demetrius “collected all his ships, embarked his army, which consisted of 11,000 foot, besides cavalry, and sailed to Asia,” hoping to take some of Lysimachus’ territories in Asia Minor (Plutarch, Life of Demetrius, 45:4). He marched through Caria and Lydia, and on to Phrygia in Asia Minor “with an intention to seize Armenia, and then to try Media and the Upper Provinces” of Asia Major (Plutarch, Life of Demetrius, 46.7). Lysimachus’ son, Agathocles, followed at a distance through Asia Minor, cutting off Demetrius’ supply lines, and when Demetrius crossed the Taurus Mountains into Cilicia, Agathocles sealed off the mountain passes, trapping him there (Plutarch, Life of Demetrius, 46.7-47.2). Seeing Demetrius unable to retreat, Seleucus recognized the opportunity to recover a coveted territory. “Seleucus marched into Cilicia with a great army,” and engaged in multiple skirmishes and battles with Demetrius, and at some considerable cost finally gained the upper hand (Plutarch, Life of Demetrius, 47.5-49).

Hungry, and without options, his forces diminished by plague, famine, attrition and abandonment, Demetrius finally surrendered to Seleucus, and was held under arrest until his death (Plutarch, Life of Demetrius, 47-50). In 288 B.C., while in Seleucus’ custody, Demetrius formally abandoned his ambitions, and released his claim to the crown by a letter to his son, Antigonus Gonatas, ceding to him his "cities and all his remaining estates” (Plutarch, Life of Demetrius, 51.1). It is at this point that Antigonus Gonatas took the crown in his father’s stead, but was not to regain control of Macedonia for another ten years (Eusebius, Chronicle (p. 237)). After Demetrius’ abdication, a period of chaos resulted as rulership of Macedonia changed hands repeatedly, but finally returned to Antigonus Gonatas, and remained in Antigonid hands for more than 100 years, until Macedonia finally capitulated to Rome in 168 B.C. (Eusebius, Chronicle (p. 239)).

Thus, were the lines of the Diadochi finally reduced to four, and it is here at last that we can identify their respective territories. Lysimachus was in possession of Thrace and the territories within the Taurus Mountains of Asia Minor to the north; Ptolemy was secure in Egypt, Africa, Cyprus, and Phoenicia to the south, also having gained control of the southern coast of Asia Minor, just a sliver of land south of the Taurus Mountains; Seleucus had taken all the territory east of the Taurus range from Cilicia and Syria to Babylon; and Demetrius' son, Antigonus Gonatas, was claiming sovereign rights over Macedonia in the west.

Reduction to Three (288 - 281 B.C.)

Four kingdoms were thus established—north, south, east and west—forged over a 35-year period in the chaotic crucible of a post-Alexandrian world, resulting in what would turn out to be a brief, unsustainable equilibrium. Each king kept his covetous gaze warily focused on his neighbor's territory, and in 281 B.C., the equilibrium collapsed. Seleucus crossed the Taurus Mountains into Asia Minor and engaged Lysimachus at the Battle of Corupedium. He defeated and killed Lysimachus, and shortly thereafter, Seleucus himself was murdered after his conquest of Thrace (Pausianas, Description of Greece, Book 1.16.2). His son, Antiochus I, thus took the crown and ruled over the territory.

The Seleucid Dynasty in Asia Minor (281 - 190 B.C.)

The outcome of the Battle of Corupedium is one of the most remarkable and most frequently overlooked facts of post-Alexandrian Hellenism. From this point forward, until the Battle of Magnesia in 190 B.C., the Seleucids reigned in Asia Minor. They retained their territories in the east, but lived in, and reigned primarily from, the north, holding court in Sardis and living in Ephesus.

Esteemed historian of the Seleucid dynasty, Edwyn Robert Bevan, arrived at precisely this conclusion in his two-volume work, The House of Seleucus. Once Seleucus defeated Lysimachus at Corupedium, the descendants of the Seleucid line made their home quite comfortably in Asia Minor and Thrace, and in fact preferred it over their other dominions. It was the seat of the Seleucid empire until their catastrophic defeat at the hands of the Romans at Magnesia. It is only then that the Seleucids go back to being “Syrian” kings. Of this astonishing fact, Bevan writes,

“… Asia Minor rather than Syria or the East seems, till after Magnesia, the chief sphere of Seleucid activity. One may well believe that it was the part of their dominions to which the Seleucid kings attached the greatest value. It is never so inappropriate to speak of the dynasty as ‘Syrian’ as in these earlier reigns.” (Bevan, Edwyn Robert, The House of Seleucus, vol 1, London: Edward Arnold (1902) 150-51)

“Asia Minor was in fact considered the real home of the earlier Seleucids.” (Bevan, The House of Seleucus, vol 1, 151n)

It is from Asia Minor that the Seleucids administered their vast empire, from 281 B.C. onward, until Magnesia. Shortly after Corupedium, Seleucus was murdered in Thrace (Pausianas, Description of Greece, Book 1.16.2) and his son, Antiochus I stepped in and ruled over the territory. Antiochus I’s activities within the Taurus Mountains were extensive, and we have numismatic evidence that Antiochus I’s rule was recognized as far as Thrace, for coins have been found in Europe bearing his name and image (Ernest Babelon, Catalogue des monnaies grecques: Les rois de Syrie, d’Arménie, et de Commagène (Bibliothèque nationale (1890) XLVIII).

When Antiochus I died (261 B.C.), his son Antiochus II rose up in his place, earning the appellation Theos for rescuing the Bithynians from the tyrant Timarchus (Appian, History of Rome, The Syrian Wars, 65; OGIS 26). At times, Antiochus II is found pressing his affairs well into Europe, as when he “besieged Cypsela, a city in Thrace,” for “he had in his army many Thracians of good rank and family” (Polyaenus, Strategems, Book 4, Chapter 16.1). Antiochus II reigned in Asia Minor until his death in 246 B.C.. His son and grandsons after him would call Asia Minor home, and would continue claiming sovereign rights to the northern territory for another six decades.

The Two Wives, and Two Kingdoms, of Antiochus II

This obscure period during which the Seleucids lived, loved and reigned in Asia Minor and Thrace is significant to us because the 11th chapter of Daniel does not even make mention of the "king of the north" until the reign of Antiochus II (261 to 246 B.C.) by which time the Seleucids had been established in the north for generations. It is only when Ptolemy, "king of the south," arranges the marriage of his daughter, Berenice, to Antiochus II that the "king of the north" is mentioned in the narrative:

"...for the king’s daughter of the south shall come to the king of the north to make an agreement..." (Daniel 11:6)

The year is 252 B.C., and Antiochus II is currently living in Ephesus with his wife, Laodice. But Ptolemy has made an offer that he cannot refuse. Lest his most precious properties in Asia Minor fall into the hands of Berenice by marriage, Antiochus II hastily deeds them to Laodice as part of the terms of divorce, recording the settlement in temples throughout Asia Minor and Thrace (Orientis graeci inscriptiones selectae (OGIS) 225).

His Northern kingdom thus arranged, Antiochus II crossed the Taurus Mountains to Antioch to be with Berenice in the East. The divorce, however, had been but a formality. Antiochus II in reality was maintaining “two wives, Laodice [in Ephesus] and Berenice [in Antioch], the former a love-match, the latter a daughter pledged to him by Ptolemy [II]” (Appian, History of Rome, The Syrian Wars, 65). The arrangement in Syria would not last long. Political necessity had brought him to Antioch, but love brought him back to Ephesus. The Taurus Mountains could not keep Antiochus away from his first love, and before he dies, he is back in the arms of Laodice (Eusebius, Chronicle). But Laodice does not suffer bigamists well, and is believed to have poisoned him (Appian, History of Rome, The Syrian Wars, 65), lest his affections drift eastward again to Syria, and her children lose their crown rights to the interloper queen from Egypt. It is in Ephesus that Antiochus dies.

The King of the North was King of the North

Lest we fail to state the obvious, Antiochus II was living in the north (Asia Minor) rather than the east (Syria) when Ptolemy, king of the south, approached him with the offer of marriage to Berenice. He was in possession of both the northern crown and the eastern crown at the time, but both his heart and his throne were in Asia Minor. He was not living in Antioch when the offer was made, and his marriage and living arrangements with Ptolemy's daughter in Syria were crafted in such a way as to maximize political gain, but minimize the risk of losing his northern kingdom. As Bevan noted above, “Asia Minor was in fact considered the real home of the earlier Seleucids” (Bevan, The House of Seleucus, vol 1, 151n). Asia Minor, with Thrace, was the northern territory of Daniel's narrative in chapter 11, not Syria.

The Eviction of the Seleucids

This matter of the northern king's territory becomes strikingly apparent when a later Seleucid king, Antiochus III, evokes the ire of the nascent Roman republic to the west. His activities in Thrace were interpreted as a threat, but Antiochus III insists that he is simply maintaining Seleucid territories that had been in his family since Corupedium (Polybius, The Histories, Book 18.49-51). Antiochus III underestimates the resolve of the new western republic and advances undaunted into the Greek Isles. It was a momentous miscalculation.

Rome had had enough, moved in to meet him on the field of battle, and "completely defeated Antiochus in the great battle of Magnesia” in 190 B.C. (Livius, History of Rome, Book 38.58). The Seleucid reign in the north was over. According to the terms dictated to them at the Treaty of Apamea in 188 B.C., the Seleucids “must retire from Europe and from all Asia on this side [of the] Taurus” (Polybius, The Histories, Book 21.17.3). After being evicted from his Northern territory, Antiochus III returned to the East and died in Elam (Babylonian King List 6(r); Diodorus Siculus, Library of History, Book 28.3, Book 29.15)). These events fulfilled the prophecy of Daniel 11:18-19:

"After this shall he turn his face unto the isles, and shall take many: but a prince for his own behalf shall cause the reproach offered by him to cease; without his own reproach he shall cause it to turn upon him. Then he shall turn his face toward the fort of his own land: but he shall stumble and fall, and not be found."

From the East the Seleucids had come. To the East they had returned. But from 281 - 190 B.C., they were truly, and emphatically, kings of Asia Minor and Thrace, the northern kingdom.

Remarkably, from this point forward in Daniel 11, no king of the Seleucid line is ever called "king of the north" again. The Seleucids six times had been styled by the narrator as “king of the north”  (Daniel 11:6, 7, 8, 11, 13 & 15), but when they were evicted from Asia Minor and Thrace, the title was no longer applied to them.

Undoubtedly, with only brief interruptions, the Seleucid kings were truly kings over the Syrian territory throughout the entire period depicted in Daniel 11:5-39. As we noted above, the wars between the king of the north and the king of the south were between the Seleucids and the Ptolemies, the kings of Syria and Egypt, respectively. We do not deny it. What is significant to us, however, is that the appellation "king of the north" is a geographic one, not a dynastic one—it follows the territory, not the family. Whoever reigned over Asia Minor and Thrace was "king of the north," and it is for this reason alone that the Seleucids were so designated from Daniel 11:5 to Daniel 11:17. During that period, they wore both crowns, East and North. Once evicted from Asia Minor and Thrace, they lost the northern crown and from that point forward in the prophetic record the Seleucids are no longer identified as "king of the north" (Daniel 11:18-39).

Our conclusion, upon examination of the Scriptural evidence and the historical record, is that "the king of the north" in Daniel 11 should be identified with Asia Minor (modern day Turkey) and Thrace instead of Syria. The prophetic evidence and the historical record support that proposition.

We will examine more evidence in support of this proposition and its eschatological implications in part 2.

Most of us, from a very young age, have been familiar with the great statue of Nebuchadnezzar's dream:

"This image’s head was of fine gold, his breast and his arms of silver, his belly and his thighs of brass, His legs of iron, his feet part of iron and part of clay." (Daniel 2:32-33)

What Nebuchadnezzar had seen was a succession of four empires. A Stone arrives toward the end of his vision and breaks the statue to pieces, "and the stone that smote the image became a great mountain, and filled the whole earth" (Daniel 2:34-35). The meaning of the dream was revealed to the prophet, and the Stone in particular has ever since been of great interest to the Church:

"And in the days of these kings shall the God of heaven set up a kingdom, which shall never be destroyed: and the kingdom shall not be left to other people, but it shall break in pieces and consume all these kingdoms, and it shall stand for ever." (Daniel 2:44)

The Stone strikes the statue, the Kingdom of God is established, and "all these kingdoms" crumbled to dust, and "no place was found for them" (Daniel 2:34). There is an emphatic finality in the phrase, "no place was found for them." They are gone, for they have become "like the chaff of the summer threshingfloors; and the wind carried them away."

Daniel's Subtle Clue

The common interpretation is pretty straightforward: after a succession of four empires (Daniel 2:37-44), the Stone is clearly the Church growing up into a global earthly entity, covering the earth like a mountain, the fifth kingdom in a succession of kingdoms. The rise of the Church after the Roman empire is very clearly depicted in the historical record, and the prophetic record seems to indicate exactly that.

Or does it?

Had Daniel only recorded two chapters, there would not be much more to discuss. But in Daniel 7, the prophet records a very subtle observation that has great bearing on the meaning of Daniel 2.

In Daniel 7, the prophet's dream also depicts a series of four empires, after which the saints take possession of the kingdom, just as in Daniel 2:

"These great beasts, which are four, are four kings, which shall arise out of the earth. But the saints of the most High shall take the kingdom, and possess the kingdom for ever, even for ever and ever." (Daniel 7:17-18)

So far so good. Just like in Daniel 2, there are four empires in a row, and then the saints appear to get the fifth kingdom. And just as the impact of the Stone in Daniel 2 strikes the Fourth Empire, the "body" of the Fourth Empire of Daniel 7 is burned up and destroyed as well. A judgment against the fourth empire seems to be the harbinger of the rise of the Church to global prominence.

But in Chapter 7, Daniel adds an additional detail that gives us pause. He does not say that the Fourth Empire and all the preceding empires with it are utterly removed after the judgment against the fourth empire. Instead he says quite the opposite. Those preceding empires are not immediately destroyed at all, and in stark contrast with Daniel 2, they live on:

"I beheld then because of the voice of the great words which the horn spake: I beheld even till the beast was slain, and his body destroyed, and given to the burning flame. As concerning the rest of the beasts, they had their dominion taken away: yet their lives were prolonged for a season and time." (Daniel 7:11-12)

Contrast the finality of the statement regarding the other kingdoms in Daniel 2 after the fourth empire is struck...

"... no place was found for them" (Daniel 2:34).

... with the extension of life for the other kingdoms described in Daniel 7 after the fourth empire is burned up ...

"... yet their lives were prolonged ..." (Daniel 7:11-12)

We suggest that if their lives were prolonged, then clearly a "place" was indeed found for them, and if "no place was found for them" then their lives were not prolonged. The two depictions seem to be at odds with each other, unless we have been looking at it the wrong way.

And there must be another way of looking at it. The Daniel of chapter 2 and the Daniel of chapter 7 received similar revelations from the same source (Daniel 2:28, 7:16). There would be Four Kingdoms on earth, and then "the God of heaven [shall] set up a kingdom, which shall never be destroyed" (Daniel 2:37-44). There are Four Kingdoms to come on earth, but "the saints of the most High shall take the kingdom" (Daniel 7:17-18). These are very consistent statements.

Then why the subtle discrepancy? Why, after the impact of the Stone against the fourth empire in Daniel 2, are the preceding empires removed, but after the destruction of the fourth empire of Daniel 7, the preceding empires live on?

The Interim Kingdom

There is, of course, no real discrepancy at all. After the fourth kingdom of Daniel 7, an antagonist arises, "a little horn" that comes up from among the remnants of the fourth empire (Daniel 7:8). That "little horn" has an earthly dominion (Daniel 7:21-26), speaks arrogantly against God (Daniel 7:8,11,25), and makes war against the saints and prevails (Daniel 7:21,25). That "little horn" shares the same attributes with the Sea Beast of Revelation 13, which also has an earthly dominion (Revelation 13:7), speaks arrogantly against God (Revelation 13:5), and makes war against the saints and prevails (Revelation 13:7). And most importantly, the Sea Beast of Revelation 13 is comprised of all the preceding empires of Daniel's vision of chapter 7 (Revelation 13:2).

Our point here is that the Little Horn of Daniel 7 is a conglomeration of "all these kingdoms" of Daniel 2:44, the manifestation of "the rest of the beasts" in Daniel 7. It is through the "little horn"—the Sea Beast of Revelation 13—that the lives of "the rest of the beasts" were prolonged. And thus, we have a very subtle but meaningful clue from the hand of the prophet. If the lives of "the rest of the beasts" were prolonged after the judgment against the fourth empire (Daniel 7:12), then Daniel 7:12 must necessarily occur after the impact of the Stone against the fourth empire in Daniel 2:34. And if Daniel 2:35 says the preceding empires are completely and utterly destroyed, then Daniel 2:35 must necessarily occur after Daniel 7:12 which says they were allowed to live on. That places Daniel 7:12 squarely between Daniel 2:34 and Daniel 2:35.

To put it another way, the "little horn" of Daniel 7—which is none other than Sea Beast of Revelation 13—must arise between Daniel 2:34 and 2:35 as the fifth earthly empire in the succession of Daniel's visions, and thus, Daniel 2:34 and 2:35 must depict two separate strikes of the Stone. In fact, the verses are written that way. Daniel 2:34 says the Stone struck and broke only the iron and clay feet to pieces, and Daniel 2:35 and 2:45 say that the Stone broke all of them to pieces at once, grinding them to chaff. Those are two different impacts of the Stone against the statue.

The Earthly Kingdom of the Saints

Part of the reason the Stone has historically been interpreted as the fifth earthly empire in succession is because Daniel 2:34-35 is interpreted as a single strike during the Roman Empire, and the Stone is depicted as filling "the whole earth" immediately following that strike. But what is notable is that the Kingdom the saints inherit after four preceding kingdoms is not earthly, but heavenly. Notice the language used in both chapters to describe the kingdom received by the saints "in the days of these kings" of the feet of the statue:

"And in the days of these kings shall the God of heaven set up a kingdom..." (Daniel 2:44)

"These ... are four kings, which shall arise out of the earth. But the saints of the most High shall take the kingdom ..." (Daniel 7:18)

There is no mention of an earthly kingdom for the saints, and we know that the kingdom Jesus came announcing during the fourth empire was "not of this world" (John 18:36). The kingdom the saints receive during the fourth empire is heavenly.

But at the end of the visions, there is a sudden and perceptible shift in the language used to describe the kingdom given to the saints. It is finally earthly, "under heaven," filling "the whole earth":

"... and the stone that smote the image became a great mountain, and filled the whole earth." (Daniel 2:35)

"...and the greatness of the kingdom under the whole heaven, shall be given to the people of the saints of the most High..." (Daniel 7:27)

Notably, the kingdom of the saints does not fill "the whole earth" immediately after the Stone strikes the feet, but only after "all these kingdoms" are broken to pieces and consumed and "no place was found for them" (Daniel 2:35,44-45). The saints are not given a kingdom "under the whole heaven" immediately after the fourth beast is destroyed, but only after the dominion of the little horn is consumed and destroyed to the uttermost (Daniel 7:26). Then, and only then, does the Kingdom of Heaven come to earth. Only after the fifth empire's dominion is taken away. The Church will be the sixth earthly empire of Daniel's visions, not the fifth. The fifth earthly empire is the earthly dominion of the Little Horn, not the kingdom of the saints.

Two Strikes of the Stone

By evaluating Daniel 2 and 7 together, we find that chapter 2 depicts an initial strike of the Stone against the fourth empire, and the saints of God receiving a heavenly kingdom, and chapter 7 depicts an initial judgment against the fourth empire, and the Little Horn receiving an earthly kingdom. Revelation 13 depicts that Little Horn as the manifestation of all the preceding empires, which are given a prolongation of life after the judgment against the fourth empire (Daniel 7:12). Only much later, after all the empires are ground to dust by the second strike of the Stone (Daniel 2:35) at the destruction of the Little Horn (Daniel 7:26) do the saints actually receive an earthly kingdom.

In short, the saints of God do not receive the fifth earthly kingdom of Daniel's visions, but rather the sixth. It is not the Church but rather the Little Horn of Daniel 7, the Beast of Revelation 13:2, that receives the fifth earthly kingdom immediately following the Roman empire.

The significance of this to the Christian is that a cursory reading of Daniel 2 and Daniel 7 without first harmonizing them may mislead one into expecting an earthly Christianized kingdom immediately following the Roman empire. Many a student of Scripture and history has stumbled at that very point, thinking that Daniel 2:34-35 depicted a single strike, and thus that the politically influential Roman Church State arising from the fragments of the Roman Empire was the manifestation of the Stone filling the whole earth.

However, when Daniel 2:34-35 are seen to depict two separate strikes of the Stone, it becomes clear that we should not expect or seek an earthy kingdom immediately after the Roman Empire. In fact, to the contrary, Daniel and Revelation warn sternly against that expectation, and admonish us not to seek an earthly kingdom until after the Little Horn is utterly and finally removed from the earth. Only then do the saints receive an earthly kingdom.

And thus, we offer this modest eschatological proposal: Daniel 2 depicts not one, but two, separate strikes of the Stone. The fifth empire of Daniel's visions, therefore, was not the Church but rather the very thing the Church was warned to avoid.

At the time of the Council of Nicæa, Alexandria and Antioch were located together in one diocese, just like Rome and Milan.

The decade from 373 to 383 A.D. is one of the most critical periods in the post-apostolic era, not because of what was happening in the Church, but because of what happened in the Roman Empire. Sometime during those ten years, the civil Diocese of Egypt was created by splitting the Diocese of Oriens in two. As we shall demonstrate, that late 4th century creation of the Diocese of Egypt is one of the most important developments in the history of ecclesiology, and it went almost completely unnoticed until the 16th century. By then, the damage was done, and even today church history, as an academic discipline, struggles to recover from the oversight.

The Formation of the Diocese of Egypt

In 293 A.D., Emperor Diocletian established the tetrarchy, dividing the empire into twelve dioceses, and assigning to each tetrarch capital the administration of three of the twelve dioceses as shown in Table 1, below:

Table 1: The Original Diocesan Division of the Empire

Each diocese was itself subdivided into numerous smaller units called provinces. Evidence for this specific twelve-way division dates to 314 A.D., and is attested by the Laterculus Veronensis.[1] Notably, there was no “Diocese of Egypt” at the time, which left Antioch and Alexandria together in the Diocese of Oriens, as shown in the map at the head of this article. Of similar relevance to our discussion, Milan became the chief metropolis of Italy, being located together with Rome in the Diocese of Italy, also depicted above.

The tetrarchy collapsed over the course of the next century, but the diocesan system endured. Several notable changes occurred in the arrangement and number of dioceses, yielding a final count of thirteen by the end of the 4th century. The Diocese of Moesia had been broken up into the two Dioceses of Dacia and Macedonia. The Dioceses of Gaul and Vienne had been combined into the single Diocese of Gaul. And finally, the Diocese of Oriens had been divided into the two Dioceses of Oriens and Egypt.[2] When the 4th century came to a close, the Roman Empire had been effectively divided into the following thirteen dioceses as shown in Table 2, below:

Table 2: Final Diocesan Division of the Empire

Evidence for this specific thirteen-way division late in the 4th century dates to 400 A.D. and is attested by the Notitia Dignitatum.

Of particular interest to us is the timing of the formation of the Diocese of Egypt. It was not part of Diocletian’s original diocesan division, and the evidence shows that it was a very late element of the reorganization. As late as 373 A.D., we have evidence that Alexandria was still located within the civil Diocese of Oriens, showing that even then the Diocese of Egypt still had not been formed.[3] It is not until 383 A.D. that we have an explicit reference in the civil records to Dioecesis Ægyptiaca, the Diocese of Egypt.[4] Sometime between 373 A.D. and 383 A.D., the Diocese of Egypt had been created.

The Significance of the Diocese of Egypt

The reason the late creation of the Diocese of Egypt is so important to the history of Christianity is because knowledge of the arrangement of the dioceses—and specifically knowledge of the timing of the creation of the Diocese of Egypt—is absolutely necessary to a proper understanding of Canon 6 of the Council of Nicæa (325 A.D.). In Diocletian’s original reorganization of the empire, Milan and Rome were located together in the Diocese of Italy. Milan was the chief of the diocese, but neither Milan nor Rome administered the whole. Likewise, the two cities of Antioch and Alexandria were located together in the Diocese of Oriens. By the time of the Council of Nicæa that status quo remained unchanged, and Canon 6 was written in that specific geographic context. Canon 6 cannot be understood without this information, yet much of it lay hidden in obscurity for over twelve hundred years. It was only in the 16th century that the history of the late formation of the Diocese of Egypt came to light, but by then more than a millennium of canonical interpretation had already transpired. The ostensible meaning of Canon 6 had long since been established in ignorance.

The matter being addressed in Canon 6 was that Meletius of Thebaid in Oriens had presumed to ordain bishops who were within the Diocese of Oriens, but were under Alexandrian jurisdiction. Peter of Alexandria accused Meletius of “entering our parish”[5] to perform the ordinations. Thus, the dispute involved the recognition and enforcement of episcopal boundaries within the Diocese of Oriens. The particular challenge facing the Council of Nicæa was how to define Alexandrian jurisdiction within a diocese that, in the civil realm, was administered from Antioch. Had the Diocese of Egypt already existed at the time, the solution would have been as simple as telling each bishop to stay in his own diocese. But that option was not available at the time. Alexandria and Antioch coexisted together in the same diocese, and a jurisdictional solution would have to be crafted with that in mind.

When we examine the canon in question, it becomes immediately apparent that the Council was compelled to define Alexandrian metropolitan jurisdiction in terms of several provinces of the Diocese of Oriens. Of equal significance, Antioch’s metropolitan jurisdiction was described in terms of the other provinces of the diocese:

“Let the ancient customs in Egypt, Libya and Pentapolis prevail, that the Bishop of Alexandria have jurisdiction in all these, since the like is customary for the Bishop of Rome also. Likewise in Antioch and the other provinces, let the Churches retain their privileges. And this is to be universally understood, that if any one be made bishop without the consent of the Metropolitan, the great Synod has declared that such a man ought not to be a bishop.” (Nicæa, Canon 6).

It would have been simple enough had the council merely stated that Alexandria should administer a few specific provinces in Oriens and that Antioch should administer the rest, but the council went on and provided its rationale for the decision: “…since the like is customary for the Bishop of Rome also.” What could this mean? Why was a custom of a bishop in a completely different diocese invoked in order to settle an internal boundary dispute between bishops in the Diocese of Oriens?

The answer to the question is remarkably simple when the contemporary topography is taken into account. Diocletian’s reorganization had placed both Milan and Rome within the civil Diocese of Italy, and had also placed both Antioch and Alexandria within the civil Diocese of Oriens. In Italy, Diocletian had avoided administrative conflicts by making Milan the chief metropolis while relegating to Rome a few suburbicarian provinces adjacent to the city. By the time of Nicæa the church had adapted to the new civil boundaries, so the structural congruency between Alexandria and Rome was obvious to anyone familiar with current events. When boundary disputes arose within Oriens between Antioch and Alexandria, a solution presented itself immediately: just as the Bishop of Rome administered a few provinces within the Diocese of Italy (the rest being administered from Milan), Alexandria could administer a few provinces within the Diocese of Oriens (the rest being administered from Antioch). The solution was as elegant as it was simple.

Evidence for this geographic arrangement in Italy is abundant in the historical record. In the mid-4th century Milan was still being called the “Metropolis of Italy,”[6] and its bishop the “Metropolitan of Italy.”[7] Also at that time writers were still distinguishing between “Italy” and “these parts [of Rome]”[8] or “the city of Rome and the parts of Italy,”[9] as if they were two different administrative regions, “the parts of Italy,” which were administered by Milan, and “these parts” administered by Rome, mirroring the civil order in that diocese. The church had clearly adapted to the civil boundaries established within Italy, and in Canon 6 that same arrangement was applied to Oriens. The earliest Latin translation of Canon 6 recites the limited jurisdiction of the Bishop of the City of Rome—the suburban provinces (in suburbicaria loca sollicitudinem gerat)[10]—showing that in the west, the church had understood exactly why the example of the Bishop of Rome was invoked: not because his jurisdiction was so great, but rather because his jurisdiction was defined in terms of a few provinces of another metropolitan’s diocese. That was exactly the situation Alexandria faced in the Diocese of Oriens, so the council simply recognized Alexandria’s position over several provinces within the diocese on the basis of a similar custom for the Bishop of Rome within the Diocese of Italy.

That solution, of course, left the Bishop of Jerusalem still within the boundaries of Antioch’s portion of the diocese. To prevent any further disputes, the Council simply extended titular honors to Jerusalem in the next canon, leaving the bishop of Antioch as the ranking metropolitan (Nicæa, Canon 7).

As the century wore on, this understanding of what Nicæa had done for Alexandria was retained in the corporate memory of the church. In 347 A.D., Athanasius’ defenders were still describing his jurisdiction in provincial terms (Egypt, Libya and Pentapolis) rather than diocesan terms.[11] In 351 A.D., Athanasius was still identifying his jurisdiction in those same provincial terms even when identifying other bishops by their respective civil dioceses.[12] Clearly, there was still no “Diocese of Egypt” even in the mid-4th century.

But by 381 A.D., something had changed. The Diocese of Egypt must have been formed during that critical decade from 373 to 383 A.D., and knowledge of the newly created diocese had reached the assembled bishops in the capital of the empire. The 2nd canon of Constantinople reflected the new status quo, and Alexandrian jurisdiction was no longer being described in provincial terms, but rather in explicitly diocesan terms. Likewise, Antioch’s jurisdiction was no longer being described in terms of “the rest of the provinces,” but rather in terms of the Diocese of Oriens:

“The bishops are not to go beyond their dioceses to churches lying outside of their bounds, nor bring confusion on the churches; but let the Bishop of Alexandria, according to the canons, alone administer the affairs of Egypt [Ægypto tantum]; and let the bishops of the East manage the East alone [Orientem solum], the privileges of the Church in Antioch, which are mentioned in the canons of Nice, being preserved.” (Council of Constantinople, canon 2)[13]

The bishops at Constantinople had essentially restated the substance of Canons 6 and 7 of Nicæa in contemporary terms, reflecting the creation of a new diocese. A new geographic reality was present to them that had not been available to the preceding council: the existence of the Diocese of Egypt created out of provinces formerly attached to the now smaller Diocese of Oriens.

When viewed through the lens of the contemporary boundary disputes taking place within the diocese of Oriens, the provincial language used by Nicæa to define Alexandrian and Antiochian jurisdiction makes perfect sense. So does the provincial language used by Athanasius and his defenders even past the middle of the 4th century, because the Diocese of Egypt still did not exist yet at the time. Then, when the Diocese of Egypt was created sometime between 373 and 383 A.D., it made perfect sense to start describing the jurisdiction of Alexandria in terms of the new Diocese of Egypt, as well as to describe the jurisdiction of Antioch in terms of the now smaller Diocese of Oriens, which is exactly what Canon 2 of Constantinople did.

The Origin of the Myth

But what did not make sense was to attribute this to the Council of Nicæa. Nicæa could not have assigned Alexandrian and Antiochian jurisdiction in diocesan terms that were five decades ahead of their time. The Council of Nicæa had not assigned Egypt to Alexandria or Oriens to Antioch. It just was not possible. The Diocese of Egypt had not yet been formed, and the Diocese of Oriens still included Alexandria and the several provinces over which its bishop presided.

Nevertheless, after Constantinople, the language of Nicæa was gradually modified in contemporary literature, and the elegant simplicity of Nicæa’s provincial solution was soon lost in the fog of history. It was as if the church had simply forgotten when the Diocese of Egypt had been created. A collective amnesia set in, and they forgot that Nicæa had only solved an episcopal boundary dispute by assigning to Alexandria several provinces of a diocese that, in the civil realm, was entirely under the jurisdiction of Antioch.

The rewriting of Nicæa first manifested in the last years of the 4th century in Jerome’s letter to Pammachius (398 A.D.). “Unless I am deceived,” he insisted, the Council of Nicæa had assigned to Antioch “the whole of the East (totius Orientis).”[14] But Jerome was deceived, for he had assumed that the Diocese of Egypt must have already been in existence at Nicæa and that the council had therefore assigned all of Oriens to Antioch, a historical impossibility.

In 403 A.D., Rufinus of Aquileia perpetuated the error by saying that the 6th of Nicæa had granted to Alexandria “the charge of Egypt (Ægypti),”[15] which was not true. The council had granted to Alexandria several provinces of Oriens—Egypt, Libya and Pentapolis—precisely because there was no Diocese of Egypt to assign.

By 411 A.D., the confusion was advanced by Pope Innocent I in his epistle to Alexander of Antioch. In that letter he explained that Nicæa had established Antioch “over a diocese” (super diœcesim),[16] which was not true. Nicæa did not, and could not, establish Antioch over a diocese for the very simple reason that Alexandria was still located within Oriens at the time, and was in fact presiding over several of its provinces.

By 451 A.D. at the council of Chalcedon, both the eastern and the western bishops were reciting Canon 6 as if Nicæa had done the impossible: assign the Diocese of Egypt to Alexandria. Notably, the West was already appropriating the inaccurate language to advance a case for Roman episcopal primacy:

Western Bishops’ version: “The church of Rome has always had primacy. Egypt is therefore also to enjoy the right that the bishop of Alexandria has authority over everything, since this is the custom for the Roman bishop also. Likewise both the one appointed in Antioch, and in the other provinces the churches of the larger cities, are to enjoy primacy.”[17]

Eastern bishops’ version: “Let the ancient customs in Egypt prevail, namely that the bishop of Alexandria has authority over everything, since this is customary for the bishop of Rome also. Likewise in Antioch also and in the other provinces let the privileges be preserved in the churches.”[18]

We emphasize the phrase, “authority over everything,” to showcase the remarkable historical gloss that occurred since the creation of Egypt as a diocese after 373 A.D.. The last thing the bishops at Nicæa would have ever said of either Alexandria or Rome is that either bishop “has authority over everything.” The council had been in no position to place either Alexandria “over everything” in Oriens, or Rome "over everything" in Italy, since each was located in a civil diocese with another metropolitan bishop—Alexandria with Antioch, and Rome with Milan. All Nicæa could do was say that Alexandria was to “have jurisdiction in all these” provinces of Oriens, just as Rome is over a several provinces in Italy, and assign to Antioch “the rest of the provinces" in Oriens, which obviously carries a much different meaning than “authority over everything.”

Thus, between Nicæa and Chalcedon the prevailing cultural knowledge that Nicæa had set Alexandria over only a few provinces of Oriens gradually became more and more obscure. Absent from the new wording of the Nicæan canons was the limited, provincial language that made sense in the early 4th century topography. Gone was any notion that at the time of the council Alexandria and Antioch had been located together in the same civil diocese, just like Rome and Milan were in Italy. Looking back from Chalcedon, it appeared that the Diocese of Egypt had existed all along, and that Oriens had never included Egypt and Libya, and that the Dioceses of Italy and Oriens had never been so similarly situated, each compelled by geography to share an entire diocese between two metropolitan bishops.

All these men—Jerome, Rufinus, Innocent and the assembled bishops at Chalcedon—assumed that Nicæa in 325 A.D. had granted to Alexandria a diocese that could not have even existed until at least 373 A.D.. Thus, in the dusk of the 4th century and the dawn of the 5th, the die was cast, and the myth was born that of the Diocese of Egypt had been in existence at the time of Nicæa. Nicæa’s simple and elegant solution to an administrative problem in Oriens was lost.

The Expansion of the Myth

The historical error grew larger and more expansive with time. Historians who by then should have known better continued to assume that the Diocese of Egypt had existed at the time of Nicæa and that it had been assigned to Alexandria by Canon 6. The myth manifested in two ways—either by an outright claim that the Council had assigned the Diocese of Egypt to Alexandria, or indirectly by claiming that the Council had assigned the whole Diocese of Oriens to Antioch.

In 1576 A.D., Roberti Bellarmini wrote that Nicæa had assigned all of Oriens (totum Orientem) to Antioch,[19] a historical impossibility.

In 1671, Henrici Justellus claimed that Nicæa had granted “the whole diocese of Egypt” to Alexandria,[20] a colossal anachronism.

In 1855, Carl Joseph von Hefele stated that Nicæa had granted “the whole (civil) Diocese of Egypt” to Alexandria,[21] and further that Antioch’s jurisdiction must have been “the civil diocese of Oriens” at the time,[22] two geographic impossibilities.

In 1880, Fr. James Loughlin was still claiming that the Bishop of Antioch presided “throughout the great diocese of Oriens”[23] at the time of Nicæa, which of course, was impossible.

Not one of their claims was true.

Since the Diocese of Egypt did not yet exist at the time of Nicæa, and Alexandria was at the time located within the Diocese of Oriens, the Council simply did not have at its disposal the option of assigning to Alexandria “the whole diocese of Egypt” or to Antioch “all of Oriens.” It certainly did not place either of them “over everything.” It was geographically and historically impossible. That is precisely why the council had to define Alexandrian and Antiochian jurisdiction in provincial rather than diocesan terms in the first place. Jerome, Rufinus, Innocent, Chalcedon, Bellarmini, Justellus, Hefele and Loughlin were all wrong. The existence of the Diocese of Egypt at the time of Nicæa was nothing but a myth forged in ignorance in the waning years of the 4th century. The true origins of the Diocese of Egypt had lain hidden in obscurity for centuries, while the myth lived on.

The Roman Catholic Implications of the Myth

And it was a myth with legs. It does not take much imagination to realize why the myth is so beloved of Roman Catholic apologists. Upon that myth was built an even larger, and much more insidious, claim. Grant for a moment that the core elements of the myth are true: at the time of Nicæa the Bishop of Alexandria was presiding over the Diocese of Egypt, and the Bishop of Antioch was presiding over the whole Diocese of Oriens. If those are true, Canon 6 of Nicæa says these two bishops were to continue presiding over their own dioceses based on a custom of the Bishop of Rome.

What else could this mean, but Roman episcopal primacy?

What was the canon if not an acknowledgment of the ancient practice of even eastern metropolitans being assigned to their dioceses by the Bishop of Rome?

Even to this day, that is precisely how the myth has been employed by Roman Catholics in their interpretation of Canon 6. We list here a few examples spanning the time from Chalcedon to the present:

Western Bishops at Chalcedon (431 A.D.): “The church of Rome has always had primacy. Egypt is therefore also to enjoy the right that the bishop of Alexandria has authority over everything, since this is the custom for the Roman bishop also.”

Bellarmini (1576): “…because the Roman Bishop, before any definition of the Councils [i.e., from antiquity] used to allow the bishop of Alexandria to govern Egypt, Libya and Pentapolis.”[24]

Loughlin (1880): “[T]he clause in question can bear no other interpretation than this: ‘Alexandria and the other great Sees must retain their ancient sway because the Roman Pontiff wishes it.’”[25]

Unam Sanctam Catholicam (2016): “Let the Bishop of Alexandria continue to govern Egypt, Libya, and Pentapolis, since assigning this jurisdiction is an ancient custom established by the Bishop of Rome and reiterated now by this Nicene Council.”[26]

These Roman Catholic interpretations of Canon 6 only make sense if the Diocese of Egypt already existed at Nicæa, and the boundaries of Oriens were already pared back to their late 4th century limits at the time of the Council. But it is just a myth. The diocese of Egypt was not even created until some time between 373 and 383 A.D., and the Diocese of Oriens at the time of Nicæa still included Egypt, Libya and Pentapolis.

Place the Diocese of Egypt back in its native context in the late 4th century, and the original meaning of the 6th of Nicæa is restored as well:

Milan was the chief metropolis of the Diocese of Italy, but Rome had been allowed by custom to preside over a few of its provinces. Antioch was the chief metropolis of Oriens, but Alexandria would be allowed to preside over a few of its provinces, since the like is customary for the Bishop of Rome also.

What was similar between Alexandria and Rome was not that either had “authority over everything,” but rather that each had limited authority over a subset of provinces within another metropolitan’s diocese. That was the only reason the example of Rome had been invoked at all.

The Relentless Persistence of the Myth

As an example of just how persistent the myth and its implications have been even within academia, we offer the example of Dr. Sara Parvis from her 2007 book, Marcellus of Ancyra and the Lost Years of the Arian Controversy. Dr. Parvis is Senior Lecturer in Patristics at the School of Divinity at the University of Edinburgh, and in her book, she commented on the geographic diversity of the bishops who attended the 335 A.D. synod of Tyre. Notice in her assessment of the council that she places Egypt and Libya outside of the civil diocese of Oriens, an anachronism at least four decades removed from reality:

“[I]t is clear from the list of provinces that it was basically a synod of the civil diocese of Oriens (Cilicia, Syria, Mesopotamia, Phoenicia, Arabia, and Palestine) … supplemented by a handful of bishops from the Egyptian provinces (mainly Melitians) and Libya, and few others from further afield.”[27] (emphasis added)

As we have noted, as late as 373 A.D., and certainly at the time of the synod of Tyre, Egypt and Libya were located within the civil Diocese of Oriens. Parvis’ geographic anachronism was largely inconsequential in her analysis of Tyre, but in any analysis of the canons of Nicæa, an understanding of the contemporary topography of the empire is absolutely critical. The persistence of the myth even within academia has greatly hampered and distorted the historical attempts to understand the canons of Nicæa, and has only given license to Rome to claim Nicæan antiquity for Roman episcopal primacy.

Unraveling the Myth

Roman Catholicism’s claims of papal primacy based on Canon 6 of Nicæa are founded entirely upon the myth of the early existence of the Diocese of Egypt. By understanding the events that took place in that critical decade toward the end of the 4th century we can unravel that myth, and with it, the entirety of Roman Catholicism’s Nicæan argument for Roman episcopal primacy. In view of the geographic arrangement of the empire at the time, Nicæa’s reference to a similar custom regarding the Bishop of Rome was not an appeal to his ancient, limitless patriarchal sway after all, but rather to his very limited, provincial jurisdiction within the Diocese of Italy—an arrangement that perfectly mirrored Alexandria’s limited, provincial jurisdiction within the Diocese of Oriens, just as the Latins acknowledged in the earliest translation of the Nicæan canons. The Roman Bishop’s diminutive jurisdiction in a diocese that was otherwise administered from Milan provided just the precedent Nicæa needed to define Alexandria’s limited jurisdiction in a diocese that was otherwise administered by Antioch.

Without knowledge of the creation of the Diocese of Egypt, Roman Catholicism and her apologists run roughshod over the historical record and impose a late 4th century topography on an early 4th century council, and from that anachronism, extrapolate a revision of history that places the Bishop of Rome over all the churches of the world as early as 325 A.D.. However, equipped with the correct dating of the creation of the Diocese of Egypt in the late 4th century, we can completely deconstruct the Roman Catholic revisionism. That makes 373 to 383 A.D. one of the most important periods in the history of ecclesiology—not because of what was happening in the Church but because of what happened in the final arrangement of Diocletian’s diocesan reorganization of the empire.

(For more information on the origins of the myth, see the author's additional articles: False Teeth, "Unless I am Deceived...", Nicæa and the Roman Precedent.)

________________________

[1] Timothy David Barnes, The New Empire of Diocletian and Constantine (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1982), 201–208

[2] Gibbon, Edward, The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, vol 2, Appendix 11 “Dioceses and Provinces”, (London: Methuen & Co., ©1901) 548

[3] Pharr, Clyde, The Theodosian Code and Novels, and the Sirmondian Constitutions, (CTh hereafter) 12.1.63, (Princeton University Press, 1952), 351.

[4] Pharr, CTh 12.1.97, 356.

[5] So the Latin fragment indicates: “…sed insuper ingressam nostram parœciam…” (Peter of Alexandria, Fragments, Epistola ad Ecclesiam Alexandrinam, 1. Migne, PG, volume 18, 509).

[6] Athanasius, Historia Arianorum, Part IV, 28 & 33. NPNF-02, volume 4.

[7] Athanasius of Alexandria, Apologia de Fuga, 4. NPNF-02, volume 4.

[8] Athanasius, Apologia Contra Arianos, Part I, 2, 26. NPNF-02, volume 4. See Jacques-Paul Migne, Patrologiae Cursus Completus, Series Graeca (PG hereafter), volume 25 (Imprimerie Catholique, Paris, 1857), 292. “Attamen necessum est vobis significare, etiamsi solus scripserim, non ideo mei solius esse illam sententiam, sed et omnium qui in Italia sunt, et qui in his partibus degunt episcoporum.”

[9] Athanasius, Historia Acephala, 1, 2. See Migne, PG, volume 26, 1443, “Athanasius reversus est ex Urbe, et partibus Italiæ, et ingressos est Alexandriam….”

[10] Cuthbertus Hamilton Turner, Ecclesiae Occidentalis, vol 1, (1899) 120.

[11] Athanasius, Apologia Contra Arianos, Part II, 6, 71. Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, Second Series NPNF-02 volume 4. Philip Schaff and Henry Wace, editors, M. Atkinson and Archibald Robertson, translators (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1892); Athanasius, Apologia Contra Arianos, Part I, 1, 19, “Encyclical Letter of the Council of Egypt.” NPNF-02, volume 4.

[12] Athanasius, Apologia Contra Arianos, Part II, 6, 89. NPNF-02, volume 4.

[13] Henry R. Percival, editor, A Select Library of the Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers of the Christian Church, Second Series, volume XIV, The Seven Ecumenical Councils of the Undivided Church, (Oxford: James Parker & Company, 1900), 176.

[14] Jerome, To Pammachius Against John of Jerusalem, 37. NPNF-02, vol 6. See Migne, Patrologiae Cursus Completus, Series Latina (P.L.), vol 23 (Imprimerie Catholique, Paris, 1854) 389

[15] Rufinus of Aquileia, Church History, Book 10.6, trans. Philip R. Amidon, S.J. (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997) 14, 44n, “Et ut apud Alexandriam vel in urbe Roma vetusta consuetudo servetur, quia vel ille Ægypti vel hic suburbicariarum ecclesiarum sollicitudinem gerat.”

[16] Innocent I, Epistle XXIV, 1. Migne, P.L. vol 20, 547

[17] Richard Price & Michael Gaddis, The Acts of the Council of Chalcedon, vol 3, in Gillian Clark, Mark Humphries & Mary Whitby, Translated Texts for Historians, vol 45 (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 2005) 85

[18] Price & Gaddis,  86

[19] Roberti Bellarmini, Disputationes, Tomus I (1576 ad) (Coloniæ Agrippinæ: Sumptibus Antonij & Arnoldi Hieratorum Fratrum, 1613), Book II, Chapter XIII, 165. “Nam Antiochenus habuit totum Orientem….”

[20] Gulielmi Voelli & Henrici Justellus, Bibliotheca Iuris Canonici Veteris, Tome 1 (Lutetiæ Parisorum, 1671), 71, columns. 1-2. “Haec ἐξουσία est potestas Metropolitani, quam Nicaeni Patres decernunt deberi in tribus provinciis hoc Canone denominatis, Aegypto, Libya, & Pentapoli, quae totam Aegyptiacam diœcesim constituebant tam in civilibus quam Ecclesiasticus.”

[21] Carl Joseph von Hefele, Conciliengeschichte, 2nd edition, (Freiburg im Breisgau, Baden-Württemberg, Germany, 1855), 390. “Die ersten Worte unseres Canons besagen sonach: ‘dem Bischof von Alexandrien soll sein altes Borrecht, wonach die ganze (bürgerliche) Diöcese Aegypten unter seiner (geistlichen) Oberleitung steht, bestätigt werden.’”

[22] Charles Joseph Hefele, A History of the Christian Councils, William R. Clark, translator, (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1871), 393, emphasis added.

[23] Loughlin, James F., “The Sixth Nicene Canon and the Papacy,” American Catholic Quarterly Review, volume 5, January to October 1880, (Philadelphia, PA: Hardy & Mahony, 1880), 237.

[24] Bellarmini,165, “…id est, quia Romanus Episc., ante omnem Conciliorum diffinitionem consueuit permittere Episcopo Alexandrino regimen Ægypti, Lybiæ & Pentapolis.”

[25] Loughlin, 230.

[26]Unam Sanctam Catholicam, “Papal Primacy in the First Councils”, January 31, 2016 http://www.unamsanctamcatholicam.com/history/historical-apologetics/79-history/98-papal-primacy-in-the-first-councils.html.

[27] Parvis, Sarah, Marcellus of Ancyra and the Lost Years of the Arian Controversy 325-345 (New York: Oxford University Press, 2006) 125.

I believe he [God] is “really there” because, without him as the universe’s final Reality, there would be no intelligibility anywhere. (Robert Reymond, etc.)[1] Dr. Reymond’s statement is both profound and insightful. Without God, there is no intelligibility. While the unbeliever cannot account for and at times disregards logic, he must still rely on logic in his own thinking and argumentation. The unbeliever must use the laws of logic in order to make his case against Christianity intelligible, yet it is only the Christian worldview that can account for these laws. He is therefore required to “steal” from the Christian worldview to argue for his worldview. By this, the unbeliever shows that he is inconsistent and demonstrates that his own worldview is wrong. One cannot make a counter argument to this without first presupposing the laws of logic, and it is impossible to account for the laws of logic apart from the God of Scripture.

Only if the God of the Bible exists do we have the laws of Logic and only if the laws of logic exist do we have intelligibility. This necessarily includes the intelligibility of moral judgments. While the laws of logic are necessary for the intelligibility of moral judgments, they cannot tell us what is morally right or wrong. For that, we need an objective moral standard. The charge against atheism, secular humanism or any worldview which rejects the Bible is that it cannot establish an objective moral standard and therefore it cannot rationally justify any moral judgments. Only if the God of the Bible is our lawgiver do we have an objective moral standard, and only if we have an objective moral standard do we have a basis for moral judgments. In the Christian worldview it is God's character, his commandments, and his authority that establish an objective moral standard as the basis for making moral judgments indissoluble (perpetually binding or obligatory), and it is Jesus --the Logos of God--who endows the mind of man with the logic necessary to make those moral judgments intelligible (capable of being understood or comprehended). The unbeliever cannot account for either of these two necessary conditions in his own worldview. He cannot account for the laws of logic necessary to make moral judgments intelligible, nor can he account for an objective moral standard by which to make moral judgments indissoluble.

Objective Vs Subjective

That which is objective is true, independent of personal belief or opinion. We may simply say that truth is objective. Although this may seem obvious to most people, it is possible that in some postmodern academic circles someone will argue that there is no such thing as objective truth. When such irrational objections are raised we might ask their proponents if it is objectively true that there is no objective truth. If they say no then we can simply agree that their statement was wrong. However, if they say yes, then they have refuted themselves by claiming it is objectively true that there is no objective truth.

By contrast, that which is subjective is merely regarded as personal belief or opinion which may or may not reflect the truth. It’s not difficult to see that many people hold opinions that are not true. Whatever is subjective is not universally true or binding for all people; it is a matter of personal opinion. Many times people equate or confuse subjective opinion with objective reality. Some people will argue something similar to this: Mike sees a green maple leaf but Terry sees a yellow maple leaf and both perspectives are equally valid and true. But as Dr. John Robbins rightly points out, “The law [of non-contradiction] is expressed symbolically as: ‘Not both A and not-A.’ [This means that] a maple leaf may be both green and not-green (yellow) but it cannot be both green and yellow at the same time and in the same respect—it is green in the summer, yellow in the fall. If it is green and yellow at the same time then it cannot be green and yellow in the same respect; one part, however small, will be green, another yellow.”[2] Mike and Terry may have observed the maple leaf at different times or they may have observed different parts of the maple leaf in order to reach their conclusions, but if they are observing the same areas of the same leaf at the same time then they cannot both be right about the color. The Christian should understand that subjective opinion can only be validated by objective truth. It is objectively true that each of them is of a different opinion about the color of the leaf, but it is not true in any sense that both opinions are correct if, in fact, they are contrary. The terms objective and absolute are many times used synonymously as well as the terms subjective and relative. That which is objectively true is regarded as absolutely true in all instances and that which is subjectively true is only regarded as relatively true in particular instances.

Moral Relativism

Moral Relativism holds two main tenets. The first is that there are no moral absolutes which apply universally to all people. Instead of moral judgments being absolute they are only relative to individual preference or perspective. The second tenet is that there is no objective moral standard which is universally binding and unchanging. Instead of an objective moral standard, which is true, independent of personal opinion, relativism stipulates that all moral judgments are subject to individual preference or perspective. True moral judgments can, therefore, differ from person to person, and can even change over time. Every person can choose for themselves what is morally right or wrong. According to the relativist’s view, that which is morally wicked for one person may be morally righteous for another.

Those who subscribe to this view of morality often seek the moral freedom it offers. We can decide for ourselves what is morally right and wrong. This view often resonates with those who support the homosexual agenda and those of the pro-abortion movement. While the moral relativists seek to empower every person by giving moral authority to each individual, they inevitably make it impossible for moral judgments to be intelligible. This is because the inevitable result of moral relativism is that contradictory judgments of morality must be true at the same time, but it is impossible for contradictions to be true. The result is a worldview in which murder, rape, and child abuse are both morally right and wrong at the same time.

Let’s consider an example in which a father physically abuses his children. From the father’s perspective, his actions are morally right. He believes he is conditioning his children for the real world and that he is teaching them to be tough. Now let’s suppose that his youngest daughter dies as a result of the injuries inflicted from the physical abuse. We might expect at this point that there would be an admission of wrongdoing from the father but to the contrary, he stands firm and professes that his actions are nothing less than merciful. Perhaps this response from the father is too extreme to even be considered possible, but before we dismiss it altogether, let us remember that it was abortion icon Margaret Sanger who said, “The most merciful thing that a large family does to one of its infant members is to kill it."[3] While the father feels that what he has done is morally right and even merciful, the mother and his other children view his actions as morally wrong. Because the moral relativists say that what is morally right or wrong is determined by individual perspective, the inescapable conclusion is that the very same actions of child abuse and murder are both morally right and not morally right (morally wrong) at the same time.

Here we have a clear violation of the law of non-contradiction because "the same attribute [in this case moral rightness] cannot at the same time belong and not belong to the same subject [child abuse and murder] and in the same respect.”[4] The Relativist intends to argue that moral judgments held by different individuals, which are contradictory, are equally valid and true. This view, however, requires the rejection of logic which in turn provides a sanction for evil because it refuses to properly distinguish right moral judgments from wrong moral judgments. This rejection of logic makes morality unintelligible. If such contradictory moral judgments were made in reference to the same moral action then those moral judgments would be unintelligible. The inevitable result would be a state of confusion in which we could not know whether or not child abuse was morally right or wrong. If all moral judgments are shown to be contradictory then all moral judgments are reduced to absurdity. While the relativist may wish to disregard logic at this point he is still required to use logic in his own argument and he cannot advocate his own views without first presupposing the law of non-contradiction.

Not only does moral relativism fail to make moral judgments intelligible, it also fails to make moral judgments indissoluble; that is perpetually binding or obligatory for all people. This is due to the fact that all moral judgments in this view are grounded entirely in subjective arbitrary opinions which have no universal significance at all. It is important to understand that whatever the moral relativist may propose as morally right or wrong is not to be regarded as universally true or obligatory for all people. On moral relativism, there are no universal moral obligations that one should live by. This concept, however, seems to stand in direct opposition to our thinking when it comes to certain moral judgments.

When we make the moral judgment, for instance, that murder (the unjustifiable killing of an innocent person) is morally wrong, we intend to imply that murder is morally wrong for everyone. It does not matter if the person committing the murder is someone of wealth, influence, status or power; wrong is wrong and murder is morally wrong. This, of course, is not a new concept and one should only keep in mind the history of tyrannical dictatorships when considering the indissoluble nature of certain moral judgments. History is full of dictators like Hitler, Mussolini, Stalin, and many others who murdered millions of people. These tyrants are a sobering reminder that everyone, including the person in power, has a moral obligation to act justly and refrain from murder. Murder, however, cannot be considered morally wrong for all people unless all people have the same moral obligation to not murder. This creates a problem for the moral relativist because in their view there aren’t any indissoluble moral obligations. This means that the moral relativist has no foundation upon which to stand and criticize the actions of people like Adolf Hitler or anybody else for that matter. According to the moral relativist, Hitler could decide for himself what was morally right or wrong even if that meant the systematic genocide of an entire group of people.

In other words, if there are no indissoluble moral judgments then there are no moral absolutes. It stands to reason, though, that if every person has the same moral obligation to refrain from murder then the wrongness of murder stands as a moral absolute. We could simply say that murder is absolutely wrong. The moral relativist, however, denies moral absolutes and does not ultimately believe that murder is absolutely wrong. Similarly, they do not believe that child abuse or rape are absolutely wrong either. We should press the issue here and ask the relativist, “Since you believe that murder, rape, and child abuse are not absolutely wrong then can you give some examples of when these things are not morally wrong and are morally right?”

When asking questions like this to someone who holds this view of morality the reply is often nothing more than an assertion of the obvious. They will reply that “to them” things like rape, child abuse, and murder are morally wrong, but “to someone else” these things might be viewed as morally right. This reply is nothing new or insightful and it offers no hope of establishing a system of morality. This is a very popular view of morality known as descriptive moral relativism, and although it is widely held, it too fails to make moral judgments indissoluble or intelligible because it merely states the obvious; that different people have different views about what is morally right and wrong. Descriptive relativism can tell us nothing about what actually is morally right or wrong; nor can it tell us what we should do. Because moral relativism cannot substantiate any intelligible or indissoluble moral judgments the moral relativist cannot establish any ethical normative conclusions or moral imperatives. They simply cannot provide us a coherent, rational view of morality.

Morality is either subjectively based or it is objectively based. These are two mutually exclusive positions and there is no third option. If morality cannot be grounded or rationally justified from a subjective standpoint then that leaves us with the only other alternative. Morality must be grounded in an objective standard. For the Christian worldview, God’s divine law provides us an objective standard by which we can say what is right and wrong as well as advocate what we should or should not do. This view is most often recognized as the divine command theory. This view stipulates that morality depends on God and his commandments.

Euthyphro’s Dilemma

Plato’s dialogue the Euthyphro Dilemma has become an enduring inspiration for argumentation against the Christian position that morality depends on God. In this dialogue between Euthyphro and Socrates, which takes place outside of a courthouse in Athens, Plato examines the essence of piety. This short dialogue has inspired many unbelievers to ask the question: Is something right or good because God decreed that it is, or is it decreed by God as right or good because it is right or good? The question is presented as a dilemma, a choice between two options, which ultimately lead to unsatisfactory conclusions for the Christian. If the Christian chooses the first option, that something is right or good because God decreed it to be so, then the implication is that God’s decree is completely arbitrary. This means that God could have decreed that murder and lying were good. If the Christian chooses the second option, that God decrees something is right or good because it is right or good, then the implication is that God must abide by a higher standard or authority than himself. This means that there is something greater than God and that he is not the ultimate source of goodness.

It is very likely that the Christian will hear some variation of this argument in a debate over morality. While some people may think this argument is sophisticated and persuasive, we should point out that it is fallacious because it presents a false dilemma. The argument only offers two options when in fact there is a third option. The third option is this: God’s decrees that something is right or good because it is in accordance with His own good character and righteous will. The standard for what is morally right and good is what God commands but it is vitally important to note that his commands are based on his own character and will. "Not only is God the governor and judge; prior to this, he is the legislator. It is his will that establishes the distinction between good and evil, right and wrong; it is his will that sets the norms of righteous conduct."[5] Only God has the power and authority to legislate right and wrong, to judge between good and evil and to execute punishment to those who break his law. God has established the virtue of his own character as the basis for universal moral commands, while particular commands are based on his will. The universal moral commands are often referred to as moral law while the particular commands are often referred to as positive law. However, these distinctions are not mutually exclusive and there is overlap. Therefore, it is both his character and his will that are the basis for his commands. This means that God is neither arbitrary in his commands nor is he forced to appeal to a higher moral authority than himself. Scripture tells us, “For when God made a promise to Abraham since he had no one greater by whom to swear, he swore by himself” (Hebrews 6:13). Clearly, there is no greater authority than God.

Some Christian apologists have argued that God’s commands are the basis for that which is morally right and good, while others have argued that it is His character. Although, it would seem that most Christian apologists who attempt to answer the Euthyphro Dilemma will argue that it is only God’s character and not his commands that are the basis for morality. Clearly, they are attempting to avoid the charge of God’s commands being arbitrary, but this misses the full picture.

Therefore, we must ask: is it God’s commands or it is His character that is the basis for morality? To answer this, we need to make a distinction between an ontological basis and epistemological basis for morality. Ontology is the branch of philosophy that deals with the question concerning what is real or what exist. The ontological basis for that which is morally right and good is God’s character, and in some instances, it is his sovereign will. Without God’s character and will as the transcendent ontological basis for morality, then right and wrong are reduced to subjective opinion and preference. In other words, there would be no actual right and wrong but only a difference of opinion and preference.

On the other hand, Epistemology is the branch of philosophy that deals with the question concerning how we can know something, and without God’s revelation, we could not know his righteous decrees or his moral standard. Therefore, the epistemological basis for that which is morally right and good is God’s revelation which is given authoritatively and most clearly in the form of Divine commands. It is, therefore, appropriate to say that God’s commands are the basis for that which is morally right and wrong, and his character and will are the basis for that which He commands. The question often arises, though; “how can we account for the fact that actions such as lying and murder were wrong prior to the issuance of the Ten Commandments at Mount Sinai?” Certainly, it was morally wrong for Cain to murder Abel even though it happened prior to God giving the command to Moses “You shall not murder” (Exodus 20:13). Because God’s character and will are the ontological basis for what is morally good this means that objective right and wrong existed prior to Moses receiving the Ten Commandments. The Scriptures say that God is good (Mark 10:18, Luke 18:19), and that he is eternal (Revelation 1:8), which means that that which is good has existed in the eternal, unchanging character of God.

Now, this raises the question; “how can God find fault with Cain for murdering his brother Abel if he had not read the Ten Commandments?” There must be a revealed law in order for this act to be a sin. It cannot merely be based on God’s character. Clark notes, “The Scripture says precisely what sin is. ‘Sin is the transgression of the law’ (1 John 3:4). ‘Where no law is, there is no transgression’ (Romans 4:15). ‘Through the law cometh the knowledge of sin’ (Romans 3:20). It should be clear then that sin is always defined by the law. Unless one knows the law of God, he cannot know what is wrong, evil or sinful.”[6] How can God punish those who have not received expressed commands and how is it possible to know right and wrong prior to God giving the commands if that knowledge depends on God’s revelation? Here we must point out that no one is ignorant of God’s moral law (ie the Ten Commandments). The answer to this question of supposed ignorance to the moral law is God’s revelation, but not in the form of divine commands. Remember, revelation is the epistemological foundation for the knowledge of right and wrong, but there are two categories of revelation that must be considered in order to properly address this question. The first category is a general revelation which is given through innate knowledge in the form of a moral conscience and the second category is a special revelation which is given in the form of divine commands.

General Revelation and Morality

General revelation is the category of Christian epistemology that allows us to address how we can know what is morally right and wrong apart from the expressed commands of God given in Scripture. Matt Slick writes, “General revelation is the knowledge of God, as well as the knowledge of right and wrong, that can be obtained through nature. This general revelation of God’s existence and basic morality is known by everyone.”[7] The Christian can account for the fact that all people inherently know that actions such as lying and murder are morally wrong even if some people have not read the Scriptures. This is because we are made in the image of God. God is a moral agent and because we are imaged in his likeness we too are moral agents. We are not only endowed by God with the gift of rationality but we are also endowed with the gift of morality. We have been given the knowledge of right and wrong in the form of a conscience. Jesus Christ is “the true light, which gives light [knowledge] to everyone” (John 1:9), and part of that light is a moral conscience. The word conscience contains the prefix con, from the Latin com, meaning “with or together,” and the suffix science from the Latin scire, meaning “to know.” The mind of man is illuminated by Christ with a moral conscience that provides us with (con) the knowledge (science) of right and wrong.

While this answers the question of moral knowledge prior to the issuance of the Ten Commandments to Moses it may appear contradictory to what Paul says in Romans chapter 7. How can we suggest that people had the knowledge of right and wrong prior to the Ten Commandments (the moral law) when Paul says, “Yet if it had not been for the law [Ten Commandments], I would not have known sin? For I would not have known what it is to covet if the law had not said, “You shall not covet” (Romans 7:7). It is important to note that Paul is quoting Exodus 20:17 and Deuteronomy 5:21 in this verse. Paul is saying that he would not have known that coveting or even that lying and murder were wrong apart from the Ten Commandments. This may appear to contradict the view that man had a knowledge of right and wrong prior to the Ten Commandments being given to Moses?

Paul does affirm that our knowledge of right and wrong depends on the knowledge of God’s moral law but he does not say that the moral law was first given to Moses. This is nothing more than an apparent contradiction and any perceived tension can easily be resolved. The answer is given earlier when Paul says concerning the Gentiles who do not have the law that; “...the law is written on their hearts, while their conscience also bears witness, and their conflicting thoughts accuse or even excuse them” This is why the 1689 London Baptist Confession states, “God gave to Adam a law of universal obedience written in his heart, (19.1) and that “the same [moral] law that was first written in the heart of man continued to be a perfect rule of righteousness after the fall, and was delivered by God upon Mount Sinai, in ten commandments, and written in two tables, the four first containing our duty towards God, and the other six, our duty to man” (19.2).

It is also important to note that the first chapter of Romans points to an innate knowledge of God and his laws. In verse 20 we read, “For his invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature [character], have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world in the things that have been made. So they are without excuse.” God’s invisible attributes include His rationality and His morality which are part of his divine nature, and these attributes are clearly perceived in the creation of man who is the very image of God. God’s moral law is a direct reflection of His character. Lying is wrong because God is a God of truth and murder is wrong because God is a God of justice. Adultery is wrong because God is always faithful. God’s moral law is a reflection of who God is and it is because God has made himself known to us innately that we are without excuse. Knowledge of the moral law is given innately to all people. The knowledge of his decree is innate knowledge which is why Paul says, “they know God’s righteous decree” (Romans 1:32).

Special Revelation and Morality

While general revelation makes God’s commands known innately, it is special revelation that provides us with expressed commands given in Scripture. However, there are two different categories of divine commands that we find in Scripture. There are universal commands which are morally binding for all people (referred to as moral law), and then there are particular commands given to certain individuals (referred to as positive law). The universal commands are primarily an outworking of God’s character while particular commands are primarily an outworking of his will. The moral law (i.e. the Ten Commandments) comprise a set of universal commands that are morally obligatory for all people, but God has also issued commands to individuals that are not morally obligatory for all people. Particular commands are replete throughout scripture. God commands Noah, “Make yourself an ark of gopher wood” (Genesis 6:14). Surely, we don’t have to obey this command and build an ark out of gopher wood, but Noah had obligation to obey this command. It would have been wrong for him to disobey it. This particular command given to Noah was based on God’s will which was to show mercy and preserve mankind through Noah and his family while bringing judgment upon the rest of mankind for their wickedness.

In a similar manner, God commands Jonah, “Arise, go to Nineveh, that great city, and call out against it, for their evil has come up before me” (Jonah 1:2). For Jonah, this particular command from God was a moral duty and he had an obligation to obey, but we are not all called to go to Nineveh and preach against it. When Jonah did not obey God’s command to go to Nineveh we see that God punished him; “And the LORD appointed a great fish to swallow up Jonah. And Jonah was in the belly of the fish three days and three nights” (Jonah 1:17). These types of commands reveal God’s will and they are morally obligatory for their recipients, yet they are not morally obligatory for all people. We will not be judged for our lack of obedience to any particular command of God unless we are the direct recipients of such commands.

It is important to point out that commands that are primarily based on God’s will and those that are primarily based on his character both reflect God’s goodness and never contradict. Some people have suggested that God’s particular commands have conflicted with his universal commands, but this would result in a contradiction. In other words, God would be self-contradictory and double minded. As an example, we can consider God’s universal command not to murder (Exodus 20:13), and contrast that with God’s particular command to the Israelites to wipe out the Canaanite clans (Deuteronomy 7.1-2; 20.16-18).

The KJV renders Exodus 20:13 as “Thou shalt not kill,” and this is perhaps the reason for some of the confusion. This passage is better translated “Thou shalt not murder,” and most, if not all, other Bible translations correctly translate the passage with the verb “murder.” God commands us not to murder and some have misunderstood this to mean that God commanded us not to kill. We need to understand the difference between killing and murdering. Most people tend to recognize that there is a distinction to be made, and may even try to think of scenarios in which killing is not considered murder. Often these scenarios involve situations of war or self-defense in which there is no other option but to kill another person in order to preserve one’s own life or protect someone else. In such cases, killing is not always morally wrong, however, murder is always morally wrong and should never be condoned. Simply put, murder is the wrongful killing of another person.

Just as the state may be justified in the execution of a guilty criminal so too God is justified in the death of the wicked. This certainly was true of the Canaanites. By the time God had commanded the destruction of the Canaanites, their wickedness was no longer restrained and their evil was exceedingly great. In fact, their iniquity was complete. As a society, they were completely given over to practices such as homosexuality, bestiality, ritual prostitution, and even child sacrifice. Infants and children up to age four were often sacrificed to the pagan god Moloch by being burned alive. It is important to point out just how patient and longsuffering God was with these people. In Genesis 15:16 God says, “the iniquity of the Amorites [a clan of the Canaanites] is not yet complete” and we see that God withheld his judgment against the Canaanites for 400 years. God waited until their entire society became exceedingly wicked and they were completely given over to their sin. We should also remember that God was willing to spare the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah for the sake of only 10 righteous people. Although no petition of mercy was ever made on the behalf of the Canaanites, and there was no obligation for God to be merciful, we can certainly suppose that God would have shown mercy for the sake of 10 righteous Canaanites. What we do see is that God waits until their iniquity is complete. This means there were no righteous Canaanites to be found among them. This should give us some perspective as to just how wicked the Canaanite societies were and just how patient and longsuffering God is in his judgments.

When God finally dealt with the Canaanites he used the Israelites to execute his judgment. The Israelites, in effect, became the instrument of judgment by which God punished them for their wickedness. There is, therefore, no contradiction between God’s universal moral command and his particular command. God commanded the Israelites to kill, but not in the same sense in which he had previously commanded them not to kill; that is not to murder.

While these particular commands are morally obligatory only for their recipients a system of morality, a theory of ethics requires universal commands that are morally obligatory for all people. These commands or laws must be universal and fixed. The Christian worldview provides such universal and fixed moral commands, yet the unbeliever’s worldview cannot establish any universal and fixed moral command or law. This is an important point to make with the unbeliever.

Universal and Fixed Laws

Earlier it was argued that only if God exists do we have an objective moral standard and only if we have an objective moral standard do we have a basis for moral judgments. An objective moral standard can also be referred to as an objective moral law. The argument is still the same though because only if there is a moral lawgiver do we have an objective moral law and only if we have an objective moral law do we have a basis for moral judgments. The Christian worldview is able to establish an objective moral law because “the LORD is our Lawgiver” (Isa. 33:22). Unless a moral standard is objectively binding and unchanging it cannot be regarded as a universal and fixed moral law. God’s revealed moral law is an objectively binding moral standard because He has the authority and power to punish those who break his law. This makes His law a universally binding moral standard. His moral law is also fixed because it will not arbitrarily change from one day to the next. Laws which reside in the eternal and immutable character of God, whether the laws of logic or the laws of morality are universal and fixed. However, it is important to note that the laws of physics are only universal and fixed as long as God chooses to uphold the universe in a law-like fashion, but the laws of logic reflect the eternal character of God’s thinking. While God may break the laws of physics he can never break the laws of logic. These two types of laws should not be equated. The moral laws are similar to the laws of logic in that they reflect the eternal character of God’s goodness and righteousness. The laws of logic are God's standard for rational thought and the moral laws are God's standard for moral conduct. The problem for the unbeliever is that he cannot account for nor can he establish any universal and fixed laws in his worldview.

Moral laws are universal because they apply everywhere and to everyone, but the unbeliever cannot rationally justify any universal law from his worldview. Without divine revelation from an all-knowing God, he is limited to his own observation and experience and no universal law can be deduced from observation or experience. Of course, we can expect that an observant unbeliever will point out that universal laws are not arrived at by a deductive method of reasoning but are rather based on an inductive method of reasoning. But here the unbeliever is committing the fallacy of induction if he intends to establish any universal law, moral or otherwise, on the basis of his own limited observation or experience. “Induction is the attempt to derive a general [universal] law from particular instances”[8] and unless the induction is completed it is always fallacious. “As Hume amply showed, our experience is limited in the past and non-existent in the future, with the result that we cannot know that all bread is nourishing, or that all arsenic is poisonous, or that all motions require a cause.”[9] In the unbeliever’s worldview, there is no epistemological foundation which would allow him to establish that murder is universally wrong. The unbeliever cannot establish any universal moral judgments in his worldview. This is once again because universal judgments are contingent upon universal laws and universal laws cannot be established on the basis of limited observation or experience.

Not only are the moral laws universal but they are also fixed because they will not arbitrarily change from one day to the next. This is true of moral laws just as it is true of the laws of logic. Moral judgments concerning the future will reflect past moral judgments if they are based upon unchanging moral laws. In the same way, that we can ask the unbeliever how he knows that contradictions are always false, we can also ask how he knows that murder is always morally wrong. The unbeliever may wish to say that the Nazi genocide of the Jews during WWII was morally wrong, but how can he say that a future genocide will be just as morally wrong. To say that we should not murder because it would be morally wrong is to make a judgment on a future action. The unbeliever cannot provide an epistemological foundation by which he can say that the future act of murder will be just as morally wrong as past acts of murder without fallaciously begging the question that the future will be like the past because of past experience. To suggest that the future will be like the past on the basis of past observation or experience is circular. Because his worldview is unable to provide a non-circular justification for saying that the future will be like the past he cannot affirm any timeless moral laws without being fallacious. He cannot say we should not murder because it will be morally wrong on the basis that it was wrong in the past. He has nothing outside of his own limited past experience to provide a basis for his judgments. Again, Hume pointed out that “our experience is limited in the past and non-existent in the future” with the result that we cannot know that the future will be like the past on the basis of observation and experiences. The reason is simple; no one has ever observed or experienced the future. In the unbeliever’s worldview there no justification for arguing that we should not murder tomorrow because it would be morally wrong, for that bears judgment on future actions which he has not yet observed or experienced. He, therefore, cannot advocate any moral imperatives in his worldview.

Contrary to the unbeliever’s inability to account for universal and fixed moral laws the Christian is able to account for such laws from the Bible. Scripture is the epistemological foundation for the Christian’s worldview which means that we have an epistemological foundation for universal and fixed laws. The Christian does not rely on observation or experience but rests wholly on the word of God. God, who is the lawgiver, has established his law as the universal and fixed rule of life. We know that His law is universal because everyone is held accountable to that standard. Paul writes, “Now we know that whatever the law says it speaks to those who are under the law, so that every mouth may be stopped, and the whole world may be held accountable to God” (Romans 3:19). John further tells us, “Everyone who sins breaks the law; in fact, sin is lawlessness” (1 John 3:14) and we know from Paul that, “all have sinned [broken the law] and fall short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23). This is why God “commands all people everywhere to repent,” (Acts 17:31). We should note the universal terms in these passages: “every mouth; whole world; all;” and “all people.” These laws are the universal standard of morality. But the laws are also fixed and will not arbitrarily change from one day to the next. Jesus said, “But it is easier for heaven and earth to pass away than for one dot of the Law to become void” (Luke 16:17).

Far from the Euthyphro dilemma being a problem for the Christian worldview, we find instead that it is the Atheist who is lacking. We should point out for the Atheist that using the Euthyphro argument is an exercise in futility. It is clear that those who advance the argument are aware that being arbitrary is unacceptable and recognize the need for an objective standard. At this point, the Christian may want to turn the tables on the Atheist and ask: Is something right or good because you said that it is, or did you say it is right or good because it is right or good? We can refer to this as the Atheist’s dilemma and to help the Atheist see the problem they are facing we can also ask: Is murder wrong because you say so, or did you say murder is wrong because it is wrong.

While this is a false dilemma when used against the God of the Bible it is a true dilemma when applied to the unbeliever. Every moral judgment the unbeliever makes must be established on the basis of one of these two options and neither option is satisfactory. If he says that murder is morally wrong because he said so, then we may just as well ask who made him the boss. In this reply, he is not claiming to be a moral relativist but is rather claiming to have moral authority over everyone else. Not only is this extremely egocentric and narcissistic but it is equally delusional. Hopefully, the unbeliever will recognize that they personally don’t have the moral authority to determine what is right or good for everyone else. We should point out again that their subjective opinion is not morally binding for others. What makes them the moral authority for all humanity? We should ask them; “does everyone have to abide by your subjective, arbitrary moral opinion?” I have yet to hear someone argue in the affirmative to that question.

This leaves the unbeliever the other option; which is to say that murder is wrong because it is wrong. If he says that murder is wrong, not because he said so, but because it is wrong, then he is appealing to an objective moral standard that does not depend on his own personal belief or opinion. The problem is that in his worldview there no objective moral standard by which to make such judgments. As we have already seen, any moral standard established on the basis of individual opinion is purely subjective and every individual lacks the moral authority to establish universal indissoluble moral judgments. The unbeliever cannot establish an objective moral standard from the subjective opinion of the individual. This is why the unbeliever must now appeal to a standard outside of himself, an objective moral standard, to say that murder is wrong because it is wrong. When such a reply is given we can simply ask: “based on what objective standard?”

[1] Reymond, Robert L. A New Systematic Theology of the Christian Faith. Nashville: T. Nelson, 1998. [2] Robbins, John W. "Why Study Logic?" Trinity Foundation RSS. July/August 1985. Accessed June 28, 2016. http://trinityfoundation.org/journal.php?id=39. [3] Sanger, Margaret. Woman and the New Race. New York: Brentano's, 1920. [4] Robbins, “Why Study Logic?”, 2. [5] Clark, Gordon H. Religion, Reason and Revelation. Vol. 4. Signature. TN: Trinity Foundation, 2012. Pg. 137 [6] Clark, Gordon H. What Is The Christian Life. TN: Trinity Foundation, 2016. [7] Slick, Matt. "What is general revelation and special revelation?" CARM.org. Accessed December 12, 2016. https://carm.org/questions/about-bible/what-general-and-special-revelation [8] Crampton, Gary. "The Biblical View of Science." Trinity Foundation. http://trinithttp://trinityfoundation.org/journal.php?id=163yfoundation.org/journal.php?id=163. [9] Clark, Gordon H. Christian Philosophy, The Works of Gordon Haddon Clark. Vol. 4. Signature. TN: Trinity Foundation.

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Keller, Timothy. The Prodigal God: Recovering the Heart of the Christian Faith. New York: Dutton, 2008. Kindle edition. Although Keller is a Reformed pastor in good standing with the Presbyterian Church of America (PCA), he strays considerably from sound biblical doctrine and compromises the gospel in one of his better-known publications, The Prodigal God. More unfortunate is that few seem to realize this. This review will apply Scripture to correct the doctrinal errors in Keller’s The Prodigal God, for “all Scripture is breathed out by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness” (2 Tm 3:16).[1]

It is not enough to simply recognize doctrinal errors; they must be corrected publicly. Any pastor who recognizes such errors, especially ones that pertain to the essentials of the faith, yet remains silent is derelict in his duty to uphold sound doctrine. This is why Paul tells Titus that an elder is to “give instruction in sound doctrine and also to rebuke those who contradict it” (Ti 1:9). It is important to examine popular and influential works like The Prodigal God in light of what the Bible mandates in places such as 1 Thessalonians 5:21 and Acts 17:9-11.

The purpose and target audience of The Prodigal God are clearly stated by Keller in the introduction:

THIS short book is meant to lay out the essentials of the Christian message, the gospel. It can, therefore, serve as an introduction to the Christian faith for those who are unfamiliar with its teachings or who may have been away from them for some time.

This volume is not just for seekers, however. Many lifelong Christian believers feel they understand the basics of the Christian faith quite well and don’t think they need a primer. Nevertheless, one of the signs that you many not grasp the unique radical nature of the gospel is that you are certain that you do.

This book, then, is written to both curious outsiders and established insiders of the faith both to those Jesus calls “younger brothers” and those he calls “elder brothers” in the famous Parable of the Prodigal Son.[2]

Keller states that his book “lays out the essentials of the Christian message,” which he correctly identifies as the gospel, and it is for this reason that we will examine what Keller teaches about the gospel. The reader should keep in mind that Keller wrote this book for “seekers” and “curious outsiders” as well as “established insiders of the faith.” That Keller is writing to non-Christians as well as mature Christians is troublesome, considering the book’s doctrinal errors. We can also wonder why there aren’t more Christians calling Keller to give an account of his many false teachings in this book.

Throughout The Prodigal God Keller identifies the “curious outsiders” as the younger brother and the “established insiders of the faith” as the elder brother in the Parable of the Prodigal Son. While Keller rightly identifies the elder brother in the parable as the Pharisees, he also calls them “established insiders of the faith,” which is confusing and misleading because the Pharisees adamantly rejected Christ. And while Scripture states that we are to “examine ourselves to see whether we are in the faith” (2 Cor 13:5), Keller nevertheless calls them “established insiders of the faith.” One has to ask: What is the criterion Keller uses to identify the Pharisees as “established insiders of the faith?” And what “faith” is he referring too? We will take a closer look at this too and show from Scripture that in order to make this portrayal, Keller has to ignore—and often blatantly contradict—what the Bible teaches concerning the Pharisees.

One of the most troubling statements made by Keller in the introduction is that “one of the signs that you may not grasp the unique radical nature of the gospel is that you are certain that you do.” Not only is this absurd, it is troubling in light of what Keller says regarding the believer’s assurance of salvation in later chapters of the book. This statement is for the “established insiders of the faith” who “think they don’t need a primer” on the Christian faith. If it is true, though, that one of the signs you may not grasp the gospel is that you are certain that you do, then you can never be certain of your salvation. If you are certain that you have grasped the gospel message, then that is one of the signs that you may not have grasped it at all! This is a serious problem because understanding the gospel is necessary for salvation. Why else did Paul write, “Yet we know that a person is not justified by works of the law but through faith in Jesus Christ”? (Gal 2:16). Is Paul’s confidence in having grasped the gospel to be taken as a sign that he has not grasped it at all? Why did John “write these things to you who believe in the name of the Son of God”? Answer: “That you may know that you have eternal life.” (1 Jn 5:13). The truth is that believers can be certain of their salvation because of what Christ has done on the cross. We will compare this statement further with what Keller describes as assurance later in this review.

The Elder Brother and the Pharisees

Keller’s portrayal of the elder brother is sure to leave his readers with an unbiblical understanding of the Pharisees. We will first look at what Keller says about the elder brother and then what he says concerning the Pharisees. We also need to consider why he portrays the Pharisees the way he does.

Keller and the elder brother

Keller correctly identifies who the elder brother in Jesus’ parable represents and to whom the parable is directed. He knows Jesus is using the elder brother as an illustration of the Pharisees and that he is directing his parable at them:

The second group of listeners was the “Pharisees and the teachers of the Law,” who were represented by the elder brother. (7)

So to whom is Jesus’s teaching in this parable directed? It is to the second group, the scribes, and Pharisees. (7)

It is because the real audience for this story is the Pharisees, the elder brothers. Jesus is pleading with his enemies to respond to his message. (27)

The elder brother gets no harsh condemnation but a loving plea to turn from his anger and self-righteousness. Jesus is pleading in love with his deadliest enemies. (74)

So while Keller correctly identifies the elder brother as representative of the Pharisees and even correctly calls them the “enemies” and the “deadliest enemies” of Christ, he also calls them “insiders of the faith”:

This book, then, is written to both curious outsiders and established insiders of the faith both to those Jesus calls “younger brothers” and those he calls “elder brothers” in the famous Parable of the Prodigal Son.” (Introduction)

The targets of this story are not “wayward sinners” but religious people who do everything the Bible requires. Jesus is pleading not so much with immoral outsiders as with moral insiders.” (8)

Keller identifies the Pharisees as both the “moral insiders” and “established insiders of the faith,” the same Pharisees who were the “deadliest enemies” of Jesus. While it may be true that many churches today have legalistic “elder brother Pharisees,” no legalistic Pharisee is “in the faith.” Keller applies the illustration of the elder brother to modern-day Christians, even though it’s impossible for a true Christian to be a legalistic Pharisee. Jesus is not directing his teaching to “insiders of the faith.” It appears that from Keller’s perspective it is possible to be an “established insider of the faith” and yet at the same time be an “enemy” of Jesus. Of course, a person can “profess” to be a Christian, attend a church every Sunday, and yet be a legalistic Pharisee, but Keller never makes this distinction.

Keller and Pharisees

So what does a Pharisee look like from Keller’s perspective? Keller identifies the Pharisees as the moral conformists who believe and obey the Bible and put the will of God and the community first. He blurs the line between a Christian believer and a Pharisee, which seems hard to do since they are polar opposites. In other words, Keller portrays the Pharisee as a picture of what Christians should be! He argues that the second group of listeners was the

Pharisees and the teachers of the law, who were represented by the elder brother… They studied and obeyed the Scriptures. They worshiped faithfully and prayed constantly. (7)

So to whom is Jesus’s teaching in this parable directed? It is the second group, the scribes, and Pharisees… The targets of this story are not “wayward sinners” but religious people who do everything the Bible requires. Jesus is pleading not so much with immoral outsiders as with moral insiders. (8)

Jesus’s teaching consistently attracted the irreligious while offending the Bible-believing religious people of his day. (15)

So from the quotes above, we have the Pharisees depicted as the Bible-believing religious people of Jesus day who studied and obeyed the Scriptures and did everything the Bible requires. Let’s compare this with how the Bible describes the Pharisees and ask some basic questions.

First, even though the Pharisees read and studied the scriptures, did they believe and obey them? Note that the “Scriptures” the Pharisees had at the time was the Old Testament.

Jesus said to the Pharisees, “For if you believed Moses, you would believe me; for he wrote of me. But if you do not believe his writings, how will you believe my words?” (Jn 5:46)

Jesus also said, “But you do not believe because you are not part of my flock. My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me” (Jn 10:26-27).

The Pharisees did not believe Jesus and therefore did not believe what Moses wrote. They did not believe the Scriptures and they were not the “Bible-believing religious people of [Jesus’] day.” John Robbins writes, “It is a complete fiction to say that Orthodox Jews believe the Old Testament. Those who assert that unrepentant Jews believe the Old Testament call Christ a liar.”[3] In passages like John 10:26-27 Jesus plainly says that they did not believe because “You are not part of my flock.”

Second, did the Pharisees obey Scripture as Keller asserts? It is clear from Jesus’ own words that they did not obey. Jesus said they were lawless hypocrites: "Even so you too outwardly appear righteous to men, but inwardly you are full of hypocrisy and lawlessness" (Mt 23:26). Just as the reprobate cannot be the elect, a person cannot be both lawless and obedient at the same time. The Pharisees had an outward expression of obedience but they did not actually obey the Scriptures: “You leave the commandment of God and hold to the tradition of men… You have a fine way of rejecting the commandments of God in order to establish your own tradition” (Mk 7:8-9). Unfortunately, Keller does not point any of this out and contradicts what the Bible says by stating that they were “religious people who do everything the Bible requires.”

And while Keller says that “they worshiped faithfully,” the Bible says, “This people honors me with their lips, but their heart is far from me; in vain do they worship me” (Mk 7:6-7). The Pharisees may have been devoted false worshipers but Keller makes it appear as if they were faithfully worshiping the one true God.

Keller also knows that he can’t press every single detail literally from the metaphor:

Let me be careful to avoid a misunderstanding here. This story is a great metaphor of sin and salvation, but we can’t press every single detail literally. Neither Jesus nor any author of the Bible ever implies that any human being is flawless, without sin or fault, except Jesus himself.” (74)

While Keller gives this disclaimer he nevertheless continually draws out details from the parable that contradict the Bible. He is correct in saying that no “human being is flawless, without sin or fault, except Jesus himself,” yet he neglects what the Bible actually teaches concerning the true condition of man’s depravity. This is only part of the truth; which he continually betrays in what he writes about the Pharisees. This “Reformed” pastor undermines the Biblical doctrine of total depravity, especially when he attempts to make a distinction between the Pharisee and the true believer by claiming that the Pharisees are “being good”:

They key difference between a Pharisee and a believer in Jesus is inner-heart motivation. Pharisees are being good but out of a fear-fueled need to control God. They don’t really trust him or love him. To them, God is an exacting boss, not a loving father. (85)

So while Keller virtually erases the line between a Christian and Pharisee and actually applies the elder brother image to true Christians, he does make a distinction between Pharisee and true believer. Normally this would be helpful but unfortunately, he once again ignores what the Bible says and creates false distinctions and contradictions.

It would appear by and large that many young, restless, and reformed readers are not even batting an eye when they read this book. Let’s compare again Keller’s teachings with the Bible. He says that the Pharisees are “being good” but Jesus said, “no one is good except God alone” (Lk 18:19).

One might argue that Keller doesn’t exactly call them good in the quote, but rather he just says they are “being good.” This is still baffling! When were they ever “being good?” Was it when they “were persecuting Jesus” (Jn 5:16)? Or how about when they “were seeking all the more to kill him” (Jn 5:18)? Were they being good when Christ called them lawless hypocrites (Mt 23:26)? Or when he told them they were doing the desires of their father the Devil (Jn 8:48)? Were they being good when they were going to stone him (Jn 10:33)? Or was it when they cried, “Crucify him!” (Lk 23:21)?

Keller argues that the “key difference” is “inner-heart motivation.” It’s not repentance, it’s not faith in Christ, it’s not that one has Satan as their father and the other is the child of God, it’s not that one is in the kingdom of darkness and one in the kingdom of light, and it’s not even their unconverted human depravity. No, it’s just their “heart motivation.” Keller says that the “inner-heart motivation” is the problem but then identifies this inner-heart motivation as a “fear-fueled need to control God.” Yet the Bible clearly says that “there is no fear of God before their eyes” (Rom 3:18). Jesus said, “Out of the abundance of the heart his mouth speaks,” and the inner heart-motivation of the Pharisees was revealed when “they kept shouting, “Crucify, crucify him!” (Lk 23:21). The true difference between a Christian and a Pharisee is repentance and faith in the redemptive work of Jesus that bears fruit in keeping with repentance (Lk 3:8).

Keller also says “they don’t really trust him or love him,” and he is correct but he fails to mention the true disposition of the unconverted sinner, which is that they’re all “haters of God” (Rom 1:30). Perhaps this would be too offensive to his curious outsiders. He writes, “to them God is an exacting boss, not a loving father,” suggesting that the problem rests in their perception of God rather than identifying man’s actual relationship with God as the real problem. To them, God is not a loving father because they have a different father, as previously mentioned.

Such a trivial distinction doesn’t matter though because the Bible makes it clear that “no one does good, not even one,” (Rom 3:12) as long as we remain unconverted. Only after we are made alive in Christ can we do any good works “which God prepared beforehand, that we should just walk in them” (Eph 2:10). The Bible thunderously denounces all merit placed in man outside of faith in Christ: “Whatever does not proceed from faith is sin" (Rom 14:23), for “all our righteous deeds are like a polluted garment” (Is 64:6).

So from the Bible we can see that the Pharisees were not the Bible-believing religious people of Jesus day. They did not obey the Scriptures, they did not do everything the Bible required, and they did not put the will of God first. Keller abuses the text and wrongly portrays the Pharisees as what Christians should look like, while at the same time misapplying the illustration of the elder brother to this same group of “Christians,” or, as he puts it, “insiders of the faith.” Why does Keller distort the Biblical view of the Pharisees so much and equate them with conservative Christians? Keller claims that “if our churches aren’t appealing to the younger brothers, they must be more full of elder brothers than we’d like to think” (14). He seems to think that because our churches have “conservative, buttoned-down, moralistic people” (14) in them, that is why “the licentious and liberated or broken and marginal avoid church” (14). Dr. E.S. Williams writes:

Keller uses the image of the elder brother to caricature conservative Christians as judgmental, hostile bigots. In Keller’s mind, the reason that conservative churches are so unpleasant is because they are filled with elder brothers (conservative Christians), who speak out against liberal, immoral values on sex and politics. Keller is profoundly hostile towards conservative Christians, whom he regards as the major cause of most problems in the world. So we have the remarkable paradox of a leading Presbyterian theologian who is vehemently opposed to the Reformed Christian faith. Even more amazing is the fact that he is the leader of The Gospel Coalition.[4]

Keller’s motive for writing such things is irrelevant if he is unfaithful to Scripture. It is egregious that Keller makes the Pharisees look like Christians, applies the elder brother image to Christians, and then makes a false distinction between the Christian and Pharisee. In so doing he contradicts the Bible repeatedly. This, however, is not the only problem with the book.

Redefining Sin

The title of Chapter 3 is “Redefining Sin.” Keller here distorts the biblical view of sin and attaches his own view to the parable of the prodigal son while at the same time appealing to the authority of Jesus. It is not uncommon for liberals, heretics, and false teachers to use orthodox language only to redefine the language in their teachings. Both Mormons and Jehovah’s Witnesses use the name of Jesus only to redefine the biblical doctrine of Christ. It is also very common for false teachers to make appeals of authority to Jesus in an attempt to pass off their unbiblical teachings. Many false prosperity preachers likewise appeal to Jesus’ own words in John 10:10, “I came that they may have life and have it abundantly,” to preach their false health, wealth, prosperity gospel. In this chapter Keller once again injects his own views into the biblical text, contradicts the Bible, and makes a false appeal to Jesus as the one who is teaching what Keller is teaching:

Why doesn’t the elder brother go in? He himself gives the reason: “Because I’ve never disobeyed you.” The elder brother is not losing the father’s love in spite of his goodness, but because of it. It is not his sins that create the barrier between him and his father, it’s the pride he has in his moral record: it’s not his wrongdoing but his righteousness that is keeping him from sharing in the feast of the fathers.” (33)

Keller says that it is because of the elder son’s “goodness” that he is losing the father’s love and that creates a barrier between them, rather than his sins. Keep in mind that the elder brother represents the Pharisaical moral insiders of the faith and the father is a representation of Jesus. Can we lose God’s love because of our goodness? What else but sin could create a barrier between us and God? Can goodness and righteousness separate us from God?

Keller contradicts what Jesus said to the rich young ruler in Luke 18:19. While Keller affirms that the elder brother is good and righteous, Jesus, on the other hand, tells the rich young ruler, “Why do you call me good? No one is good except God alone.” Once again Scripture says, “None is righteous, no, not one” (Rom 3:10). What definition of righteous and good is Keller using if not a Biblical one? Apart from Christ, we have no righteousness or goodness. Keller identifies pride as the real problem but this pride is nothing less than sinful and is, therefore, wrong. Therefore, it would be the elder son’s wrongdoing, not his “goodness” that keeps him from sharing in the feast.

But Keller claims the opposite. He says that “the elder brother is not losing the father’s love in spite of his goodness, but because of it.” Yet when the rich young ruler boasted of his own goodness by saying, “All these [commandments] I have kept from my youth” (Lk 18:21), Jesus did not tell him that he was losing the father’s love because of his goodness. Instead, Jesus pointed him back to the first commandment by showing him that he loved his money more than God when he told him to “sell all that you have and distribute to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven” (Lk 18:22). Jesus’ response to the young man was consistent with what he said in response to the question about the greatest commandment to “love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment” (Mt 22:36). By loving his money more than God he was violating the first and greatest commandment. The young man left very sad because he was very rich (Lk 18:23). Notice that Jesus didn’t affirm the rich young ruler’s goodness in Luke 18, nor did he affirm the Pharisees’ goodness through the parable of the prodigal son. Jesus tells the Pharisees in Luke 16:15, “You are those who justify yourselves before men, but God knows your hearts. For what is exalted among men is an abomination in the sight of God.” So Jesus in no way intended to affirm the “goodness” of the Pharisees in the parable because they are “an abomination in the sight of God.”

And Jesus certainly did not intend to teach that it was “not his sins that create the barrier between him and his father.” Keller is a terrible expositor. Of course, it is our sin that creates a barrier between us and God! This is why Jesus pointed the rich young ruler back to the law to show him his sin. This is why Galatians 3:24 says the law was our schoolmaster, and why Paul says in Romans 7:7, “Yet if it had not been for the law, I would not have known sin.” Jesus showed the rich young ruler it was his sin that was the problem, not his goodness. So while Keller says it was not his sin that created a barrier, Isaiah 59:2 reads, “It's your sins that have cut you off [created a barrier] from God. Because of your sins, he has turned away and will not listen anymore.” Clearly then, the real problem is the elder brother’s sin, not his “goodness” and “righteousness.”

Keller unravels his false teaching further:

Each one [of the sons], in other words, rebelled—but one did so by being very bad and the other by being extremely good.

Do you realize, then, what Jesus is teaching? Neither son loved the father for himself. They both were using the father for their own self-centered ends rather than loving, enjoying, and serving him for his own sake. This means that you can rebel against God and be alienated from him either by breaking his rules or by keeping all of them diligently.” (36)

How can a person rebel against God by being extremely good? If a person is rebelling against God at all then they clearly are not being good in any sense. It is impossible to rebel against God by being extremely good because the qualities of rebellion and goodness are contradictory. That is, unless you equivocate on the terms good and evil, in which case you should consider Isaiah 5:20: “Woe to those who call evil good and good evil.”

In the second part of the quote, Keller attributes his false teaching onto Jesus. He says that Jesus is teaching that “you can rebel against God and be alienated from him either by breaking his rules or by keeping all of them diligently”; yet this is not what Jesus told the rich young ruler, and it’s not at all what Jesus is teaching in the parable. He did not tell the young ruler that he was “alienated” from God for keeping all of the laws since his youth, but instead showed the man that he was in trouble for not keeping the law. Perhaps it’s true that both sons in the parable were using the father but the conclusion Keller draws is false. While Keller says that we can be alienated and can rebel against God by “keeping all of the rules diligently,” the Psalmist writes, “You have commanded your precepts to be kept diligently” (Ps119:4)! Keller contradicts the Bible yet again, for God commands us to keep his moral laws diligently! The real problem is that we fail to keep them, and this is sin.

Here is another of Keller’s false appeals to Jesus:

With this parable, Jesus gives us a much deeper concept of “sin” than any of us would have if he didn’t supply it. Most people think of sin as failing to keep God’s rules of conduct, but, while not less than that, Jesus’s definition of sin goes beyond it.” (34)

Here, then, is Jesus’s radical redefinition of what is wrong with us. Nearly everyone defines sin as breaking a list of rules. Jesus, though, shows us that a man who has violated virtually nothing on the list of moral misbehaviors can be every bit as spiritually lost as the most profligate, immoral person. Why? Because sin is not just breaking the rules, it is putting yourself in the placed of God as Savior, Lord, and Judge just as each son sought to displace the authority of the father in his own life.” (42)

It’s hard to imagine that one of the founders of the Gospel Coalition could be such a terrible expositor. Keller wants us to believe that Jesus told the parable to provide us with a much deeper concept of sin, even though Jesus himself said, “This is why I speak to them in parables, because seeing they do not see, and hearing they do not hear, nor do they understand” (Mt 13:13). Jesus spoke in parables to confuse his hearers and to keep them from understanding, and the prodigal son parable was meant to mock the Pharisees’ self-righteousness and total ignorance of God (Lk 15:1-3). How is it that Keller thinks that only in this parable do we have access to this deeper understanding of sin when Jesus magnified the law and gave a deeper understanding of sin in Matthew 5 when he discussed anger and lust?

Keller wants his readers to believe that Jesus is redefining sin, but Jesus was always consistent and in perfect harmony with Scripture. Jesus is not redefining anything at all in this parable. Keller wants us to believe that “sin is not just breaking the rules [commandments], it is putting yourself in the place of God.” But putting yourself in the place of God is breaking the very first rule! “You shall have no other gods before me” (Ex 20:3). This is exactly what Satan did when he said, “I will make myself like the Most High” (Is 14:14). Sin, whether in thought or deed, is a violation of God’s holy standard. This is why the Westminster Confession (which Keller is also fond of contradicting) reads in Chapter VI.6, “Every sin—both original and actual—is a transgression of the righteous lawof God and contrary to it.” What Keller writes is nothing short of confusion, yet he intends this book to be an introduction to the Christian faith for outsiders and a primer for “established insiders.” No, thank you. Paul tells Titus to “teach what accords with sound doctrine” (Ti 2:1), but Keller’s teaching does not accord with sound doctrine.

Keller’s Gospel

While Keller intends The Prodigal God to be a sort of primer which “is meant to lay out the essentials of the Christian message, the gospel,” it is Keller himself who distorts the biblical doctrine of atonement and compromises the gospel.

Keller writes that “one of the signs that you many not grasp the unique radical nature of the gospel is that you are certain that you do,” but he later writes, “The inevitable sign that you know you are a sinner saved by sheer, costly grace is a sensitive social conscience and a life poured out in deeds of service to the poor.” (112)

Keller suggests that you really can’t know if you're saved by believing in what Jesus has done, but that you can have assurance of your salvation based on what you have done. This is Romanism at its heart: “The Romanists held that a man is to believe in the mercy of God and the merits of Christ, but that this belief brought with it no assurance of justification; though possibly, if the man lived a very holy life, God might before he died reveal his grace to him, and give him assurance.”[5] The Protestant view of assurance is rooted in the knowledge of the historical redemptive work of Jesus on the cross.

It is also wrong to say that the “inevitable sign” that you are saved is a “sensitive social conscience and a life poured out in deeds of service to the poor” simply because many who are not saved do this. What about repentance and faith in Christ alone for the forgiveness of sins?

Keller contradicts himself still further and betrays the gospel of justification by faith alone when he writes, “As long as you are trying to earn your salvation by controlling God through goodness, you will never be sure you have been good enough for him. You simply aren’t sure God loves and delights in you” (61). This is a lie. By making the problem of a works-based salvation one of assurance, Keller compromises the gospel and allows his readers to keep the idea that the only thing lacking is assurance of salvation, not salvation itself when they attempt to earn salvation. The problem for those who are trying to earn their salvation is not a lack of assurance but a forfeiture of the gospel. If a person is trying to earn their salvation, then they are not saved because they are not trusting in the finished work of Christ. Keller blurs the true distinction between the true gospel of justification by faith alone and a false gospel which includes works. Paul writes, “For by works of the law no human being will be justified in his sight, since through the law comes knowledge of sin” (Rom 3:20). In fact, it is the one who does not work but believes that is justified. “And to the one who does not work but believes in him who justifies the ungodly, his faith is counted as righteousness” (Rom 4:5).

Keller also seems to think that if we are not attracting people to our churches then it must mean that we are not preaching the same message as Jesus.

The kind of outsiders Jesus attracted are not attracted to the contemporary churches, even our most avant-garde ones.

If the preaching of our ministers and the practice of our parishioners do not have the same effect on the people that Jesus had, then we must not be declaring the same message that Jesus did. (14)

Paul warns Timothy to “follow the pattern of the sound words that you have heard from me,” (2 Tm 1:13), and he commands Titus to “teach what accords with sound doctrine” (Ti 2:1), but never does he attribute the lack of success in ministry to a compromising of the message of Jesus. In fact, we see just the opposite. Those who compromise sound biblical doctrine often have the biggest ministries, which is why Paul warns, “For the time is coming when people will not endure sound teaching, but having itching ears they will accumulate for themselves teachers to suit their own passions” (2 Tm 4:3). Paul does not say that if you are not filling your churches then you must not be preaching the same message as Jesus. This kind of thinking leads to tampering with the message of Jesus, which is exactly what Keller has done in this book. Keller reduces the gospel to a message of feigned humility:

Jesus says: “The humble are in and the proud are out” (see Luke 18:14). The people who confess they aren’t particularly good or open-minded are moving toward God because the prerequisite for receiving the grace of God is to know that you need it. The people, who think they are just fine, thank you, are moving away from God. “The Lord… cares for the humble, but he keeps his distance from the proud” (Psalm 138:6 – New Living Translation).

When a newspaper posed the question, “What’s Wrong with the World?” the Catholic thinker G.K. Chesterton reputedly wrote a brief letter in response: “Dear Sirs: I am. Sincerely Yours, G. K. Chesterton.” That is the attitude of someone who grasped the message of Jesus. (45)

Keller once again attributes his false teaching to Jesus by misquoting him from the text in Luke 18:14. The verse actually reads, “I tell you, this man went down to his house justified, rather than the other. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted.” The reader should note that Jesus never says, “The humble are in and the proud are out.” Keller misleads his readers on two accounts here. First by misquoting Jesus and second by the conclusion he makes from the text he misquotes. The verse says that “this man [the tax collector] went down to his house justified,” but why was he justified? It was not simply because he was humble, as Keller claims. It is true that the man showed humility but that was only part of the whole message, and Keller substitutes the part for the whole in order reduce the gospel to an issue of humility. Jesus was speaking the parable to “some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous” (Lk 18:9), but it was the tax collector who said, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” (Lk 18:13). Furthermore, the Greek word for “be merciful” is hilasthēti, which literally means “be propitious.” The tax collector cried out and asked God to be propitious—to turn away His wrath from him. This is not just a depiction of humility but rather a depiction of saving faith. We see that the Pharisees trusted in their works and good deeds but it was the tax collector who was justified by rightly understanding his depravity and expressing saving faith.

Keller’s false gospel manifests itself by giving as an example someone who did not believe in the gospel of justification by faith alone. Keller, a Reformed pastor, affirms G. K. Chesterton, a Roman Catholic, as “someone who grasped the message of Jesus” on the basis of nothing more than a feigned expression of humility. The message of Jesus was, “Repent and believe in the gospel” (Mk 1:15), but as a Roman Catholic Chesterton did not believe the true gospel of justification by faith alone. He was hostile to the Protestant faith, became an apostate, and affirmed the false gospel of justification by faith and works. He was nothing less than an Antichrist who opposed the gospel of Jesus Christ. Jesus said, “Whoever is not with me is against me” (Mt 12:30), and those who oppose the true gospel set themselves against Christ himself. It is remarkable that Keller affirms a Roman Catholic who affirmed a false gospel as someone who grasped the message of Jesus. This is the necessary consequence of Keller's false gospel that the “humble are in.”

Keller also has a history of ecumenism and fondness for Roman Catholicism. Timothy Kauffman has made mention of this on his blog:

Tim Keller (PCA Minister): “The best things that have been written [on meditation] almost are by Catholics during the counter-reformation—Ignatius Loyola, Francis de Sales, John of the Cross, St. Teresa of Avila—great stuff!”[6]

These people whom Keller endorsed to his own church led the Counter-Reformation and wanted nothing more than to rid the world of justification by faith alone. They vehemently opposed Luther and Calvin and despised the true gospel. Keller has been known to frequently use and even endorse those who preach a false gospel. He quotes N.T. Wright liberally in The Reason for God, yet Wright teaches a works-based salvation. Paul wrote, “Now I beseech you, brethren, mark them which cause divisions and offenses contrary to the doctrine which ye have learned; and avoid them” (Rom 16:17 KJV). Yet we have the leader and co-founder of the Gospel Coalition endorsing and affirming those who preach a false gospel. Shame on Keller.

Unfortunately, that isn’t all. Keller distorts the gospel further by substituting the biblical doctrine of atonement for heresy.

He came and experienced the exile that we deserved. He was expelled from the presence of the father, He was thrust into darkness, the uttermost despair of spiritual alienation – in our place. He took upon himself the full curse of human rebellion, cosmic homelessness, so that we could be welcomed into our true home. (101)

This is heresy. “The full curse of human rebellion” is not “cosmic homelessness”; it is God’s wrath. Keller only talks about exile, alienation, and homelessness in his book as the sole punishment that befalls wicked sinners. He never mentions the wrath of God that abides on sinners and instead eliminates it by claiming that the full curse is “cosmic homelessness.”

This distorts the gospel by denying the doctrine of propitiation. The word propitiation refers to the satisfying of God’s wrath against the sinner through the substitutionary atonement of Jesus on the cross. If we exclude propitiation by excluding God’s wrath, then we forfeit the gospel, and that is exactly what Keller has done in this book. Jesus did not redeem us from the curse of the law and become a curse for us (Gal 3:13) by merely being forsaken or becoming spiritually “homeless”; He suffered and bore the full wrath of God.

Paul tells us that we were by nature “children of wrath” (Eph 2:3). If propitiation is removed from the gospel, then the wrath of God still abides on the sinner’s head and we have no gospel at all. If Jesus only saved us from exile, then He did not ultimately satisfy or propitiate the wrath of God on behalf of his people. Paul tells us that it was Jesus “whom God put forward as a propitiation by his blood, to be received by faith…. It was to show his righteousness at the present time, so that he might be just and the justifier of the one who has faith in Jesus” (Rom 3:25, 26). Without propitiation, there can be no justification. Jesus, therefore, did not just experience exile or homelessness as Keller teaches, for “it was the will of the Lord to crush him” (Is 53:10) as well.

Keller distorts the gospel in The Prodigal God along with various other doctrines and must be held accountable for what he teaches. I, therefore, do not recommend this book or its author.

________________________________________

[1] Scripture references are ESV unless otherwise noted. All emphases in Scripture quotations are mine.

[2] Brackets and emphases are mine.

[3] John W. Robbins, “The White Horse Inn: Nonsense on Tap,” The Trinity Review 271 (September/October, 2007), http://www.trinityfoundation.org/journal.php?id=245.

[4] E.S. Williams, “The Prodigal God,” review of The Prodigal God, by Timothy Keller, The New Calvinists, accessed March 10, 2014, Keller’s books, http://www.newcalvinist.com/tim-kellers-false-gospel/the-prodigal-god/.

[5] Horatius Bonar, “Assurance of Salvation,” The Trinity Review (April, 1994), http://www.trinityfoundation.org/journal.php?id=185.

[6] Timothy Kauffman, "And the Diviners Have Seen a Lie," accessed June 1, 2014, http://www.whitehorseblog.com/2014/05/18/and-the-diviners-have-seen-a-lie/.

[7] See E.S. Williams, “Keller redefines the gospel,” The New Calvinists, http://www.newcalvinist.com/tim-kellers-false-gospel/keller-redefines-gospel/.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row]

Introduction 

There are many Christians today who think that logic is unnecessary, useless, or unimportant. According to them, we should spend our time on bigger and better things, like reaching people for Jesus. Some would argue that we should not waste our time studying logic, but instead, we should study the Word of God. Some even piously claim that “logic is not the gospel, so what’s the point?” The truth is that many modern churchgoers engulf themselves in irrational thought and dismiss logic altogether.

This kind of thinking is certainly present, if not predominant, in churches today, and it expresses a deep lack of understanding of what logic is and why it is necessary. Perhaps this negative view of logic stems from the deeply rooted anti-intellectualism of many evangelical Christians who seek an emotional high in their religious experience rather than a deeper understanding of the Word of God. They simply do not understand the relationship between logic and the Bible.

This anti-intellectualism can often be seen in churches that downplay the importance of sound doctrine and do not concern themselves with harmonizing or systematizing God’s word. When confronted about the state of irrationalism that has crept into modern Christianity we find that many professing Christians disparage and even dismiss logic. However, any attempt to disparage or dismiss logic is self-refuting for the very reason that one must use logic in order to make their own argument against logic intelligible. As Dr. John Robbins notes, “The opponents of logic must use the law of contradiction in order to denounce it. They must assume its legitimacy, in order to declare it illegitimate. They must assume its truth, in order to declare it false. They must present arguments if they wish to persuade us that argumentation is invalid. Wherever they turn, they are boxed in.”[i] Thus, any attack on logic is undermined by the antagonist’s own use of it. This is simply unavoidable.

Many who desire to throw logic out the window in pursuit of other “nobler” endeavors do not realize that logic is fundamental to all disciplines, all thought, and all language. Those who would argue that we should study our Bibles instead of wasting our time with logic miss the fact that the correct method of Biblical interpretation, that is to interpret Scripture in the light of Scripture, requires the most fundamental law of logic, the law of non-contradiction. Those who would argue that logic is not the gospel do not understand that affirming and proclaiming the gospel requires the laws of logic, such as the law of the excluded middle. If logic therefore, is required for the affirmation and proclamation of the most basic–indeed all–Christian truths, then every Christian should understand logic and know how to use it.

What is Logic?

A study in logic may be difficult at first but even the most basic understanding will prove beneficial. In order for a person to reason correctly and think rationally, they must think logically. Dr. Gordon Clark defined logic as the “science of necessary inference.”[ii] Logic is the science of correct thinking and therefore, it may be explained as the correct process of reasoning.

In formal logic, there are three fundamental laws which are the law of contradiction, the law of identity, and the law of the excluded middle. These laws are deduced from Scripture, which allows us to account for them as universal and unchanging principles. The law of contradiction, which states, A cannot be A and not A at the same time and in the same respect is revealed in scripture as part of God’s eternal character and nature, “for he cannot deny [contradict] himself” (2 Timothy 2:13)[iii]. In this verse the law is expressed in the form of a proposition. In the symbolic notation however, “A” can represent either a proposition or a word. Therefore, the law of contradiction is embedded into every word of scripture. When Genesis 1:1 declares, “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth” it does not mean “In the beginning, God dismantled the heavens and the earth” for that would contradict the proposition of divine revelation. The word “created” does not mean “dismantled” and vice versa. Each word has a specific meaning and although a word may have more than one meanings in general, it cannot have more than one meaning in any proposition. Clark writes, “A word that means everything means nothing. In order for a word to mean something, it must also not mean something.”[iv]

The law of identity (A is A), which holds that everything has a specific nature, is expressed in God’s name, “I AM WHO I AM” (Exodus 3:14). Everything exists as something in particular to itself, and everything has specific characteristics that make it what it is. For example, God is holy, righteous, sovereign, loving, and good. God’s identity however includes all his specific traits and not just the ones mentioned. This law is crucial because it means that God has a definite nature and is therefore knowable.

The law of the excluded middle, also known as the principle of the excluded third (principium tertii exclusi), holds that a proposition is either true or its negation is true; there is no third option. This law is deduced from Jesus’ own words to the Father, “your word is truth” (John 17:17). In this verse Jesus affirmed for us that all propositional revelation is true thereby upholding the law of the excluded middle.

It is precisely because these laws of logic are embedded in Scripture that the Christian can establish from an epistemological standpoint that they are fixed and universal “laws.” Epistemology seeks to answer the question “how do we know?” Scripture is the answer. Without the epistemology of scripture, we cannot account for the laws of logic and it is for that reason that Scripture rather than logic itself is chosen as the Christian axiom. We agree with Dr. Clark that “Scripture, the written words of the Bible, is the mind of God. What is said in Scripture is God’s thought.”[v] This is how we know that the laws of logic are fixed and do not change, because “the word of our God will stand forever” (Isaiah 40:8). Likewise, we also know that they are universal because “he upholds the universe by the word of his power” (Hebrews 1:3). In other words, we know these laws of logic are “laws.”

Although it is true that all rational thinking requires logic, it is impossible to establish an epistemological foundation for logic strictly from the mind of man, for the laws are universal principles, and the mind of man has no universal significance at all. The Christian must also understand that logic is not descriptive of human thinking–it is not psychology–but is rather prescriptive for all human thought. This means that logic does not describe how a person does think, but rather how a person should think if they are to think correctly. The laws of logic could never be derived from a description of how people think because many people tend to think irrationally, illogically, often contradicting each other and even themselves.

The laws of logic can, however, be derived from a description of how God thinks because He is always consistent, rational, logical and never errs in his reasoning. Logic then is, as Dr. Clark wrote, “the characteristic of God’s thinking. It is not subsequent temporally, for God is eternal and there never was a time when God existed without thinking logically.”[vi] God cannot lie because it is inconsistent with His eternal character and He will not and cannot contradict Himself. “The Glory of Israel will not lie or change His mind; for He is not a man that He should change his mind” (1 Sameul 15:29). This is just one verse of many that provide us a description of the nature and character of God. This is the way in which God thinks and it is the way in which we ought to think. It would be fallacious, however, for one to derive a prescriptive ought statement from the descriptive is statement of God’s nature and character. Fortunately, the Christian is not merely left with a description of the way in which God thinks but we are also given a prescription for the way in which we ought to think. Scripture tells us, “You, therefore, must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect” (Matthew 5:48). Paul also exhorts us to “be imitators of God, as beloved children,” (Ephesians 5:1).

It should be clear then that the Christian is able to account for the laws of logic from an epistemological foundation that is consistent and rationally justifiable within the Christian worldview.

Our Moral Obligation

It may come as a surprise to many Christians to learn that we have a moral obligation to think logically. Perhaps this is because they have not considered carefully that it is impossible to obey God if our thinking is illogical. We often associate sinful thoughts with the vices of lust or hatred, but the truth is that all sin originates in our thinking. “Although adultery and theft are commonly regarded as overt actions, their origin is in our thinking. Sin is the result of intellectual error.”[vii] Clark was correct then, to point to such verses as Proverbs 23:7– “As a man thinks in his heart, so is he”–in order to point out that “sin is first of all mental and only afterward overt.”[viii]

Some might find this disturbing and may wish to separate logic from morality, but logic is necessary for morality as well because without logic there can be no distinction between deception and truth, good and evil, right and wrong. It is no wonder then that the Scriptures are logically consistent. If this were not the case, then we would not be able to discern truth from error. If God’s thinking is logically consistent and the Scriptures are part of the mind of God, then it is impossible to obey scriptural commands if we contradict the Bible in the way we think.

The reality is that we often do not stop to consider just how intellectually disobedient we can be in our thinking. It is important to realize that it is impossible to love God with all our mind if we are illogical. How can we surrender every thought captive to the Lordship of Christ (2 Corinthians 10:5) if our thinking does not reflect the logical consistency of Scripture? The inescapable result of failing in this area is compromise, error, and sin. We inevitably begin to adopt worldly and secular thinking which is firmly opposed to the Word of God. We should recognize that every attack from the enemy is an attack on the Word of God. A clear example of this can be seen in the current debates over same-sex marriage and abortion.

Christ asserts that marriage is between a man and a woman (Matthew. 19:4-5), so we stand in direct defiance if we insist that same-sex marriage is morally good. When we likewise insist that a woman has the right to abort their unborn children then we defy God and advocate the murder of children on the altar of convenience and shame. Those who advocate such positions stand in direct opposition to Christ and His Word. Professing Christians who hold such positions display and an incredible amount of logical inconsistency and as a result, have no basis for believing that Jesus died on the cross for their sins. If they do not believe the Bible when it speaks on the issue of marriage, the sin of homosexuality, and the life of an unborn child, then what basis do they have for believing the truth of the cross? How convenient it must be to arbitrarily pick and choose what suits us. Such advocates of logical inconsistency would be hard-pressed to provide a rational reason for believing that the gospel is true while rejecting its source as unreliable when it doesn’t suit them.

Accounting for Logic

The unbeliever cannot account for logic in his own worldview and therefore cannot account for his ability to think rationally. The challenge has been made many times to unbelievers to account for logic in their own worldview and it has always fallen short or gone unanswered. Never has an adequate response been given. In formal debates, the challenge is often ignored by the unbeliever, yet the challenge demands an answer because debates presuppose logic.

The unbeliever is required to use logic in order to make his argument against Christianity consistent and intelligible, but only the Christian worldview can account for logic. He is therefore required to rob the Christian worldview in order to make his argument against Christianity intelligible

Some argue that logic is merely a description of nature. Logic, however, cannot be accounted for in nature because logic concerns thinking and governs how we ought to think. The 18th century Scottish Philosopher David Hume identified the impossibility of deriving an “ought” statement from an “is” statement. Nature can only provide a description of what is but cannot provide a prescription of what ought to be, so it cannot tell us how we ought to think. Logic is also immaterial and conceptual while nature is just the opposite. This proves to be an impossible hurdle for the atheistic materialist to rise above.

Due to the materialist’s inability to account for an immaterial law, many try to adopt a form of rationalism. Rationalism is the theory that all knowledge comes from logic alone, apart from the senses and revelation. The rationalist assumes the laws of logic but ultimately fails to account for them. This is problematic because in order for a worldview to be complete it must be able to account for the laws of logic which are a precondition of intelligibility. Because the Rationalist cuts himself off from divine revelation, he isolates himself in his thinking. He attempts to arrive at knowledge from logic alone but has no epistemological foundation for the universal laws logic because they are not descriptive of his own thinking but rather prescriptive of how he ought to think. If he supposes that all knowledge comes from logic but is unable to provide a foundation of knowledge by which he can know the laws of logic as prescriptive, independent, and invariant laws of thought, then he is hopelessly lost. One cannot navigate from logic alone to any propositional knowledge or truth.

We will further demonstrate the failure of rationalism by attacking its first premise. Rationalism says that all knowledge comes from logic alone, but this knowledge claim itself cannot be inferred from logic alone. Although the laws of logic are communicated as propositions which require the laws of logic in order to be intelligible, the laws themselves provide no additional content about reality or truth. The laws of logic can only be applied to how we think. They only tell us how we should think but provide no content of thought. The rationalist must show that the laws of logic provide all the necessary content of thought and that this content can only be derived from the laws themselves and nothing else. The law of contradiction is a universal rule of thought but the law itself cannot tell us what is universal.

If rationalism cannot know its first premise by its own method, then it is shown to be self-refuting and fails as a theory of knowledge. No self-contradictory epistemological foundation can account for the law of contradiction. If rationalism fails as a theory of knowledge, then there is nothing that can be known on rationalism. If one cannot know anything on rationalism, then it cannot account for the universal laws of logic which exist outside the mind of the rationalist. We need more than what rationalism can offer. We need divine revelation from God.

Many reject the epistemology of Christianity which accounts for logic in the Word of God and instead turn to Empiricism. This comes as no surprise since the rebellious mind is hostile towards God and rejects that “the fear of the LORD is the beginning of knowledge” (Proverbs 1:7).

When 17th-century rationalists saw the shortcomings of assuming logic alone, the world shifted towards empiricism. Today empiricism may be regarded as the most widely held epistemology and it is the underlying presupposition for many arguments against Christianity. When unbelievers argue that there is no empirical evidence for God they are presupposing the epistemology of empiricism. But it is impossible to even make such an argument intelligible without presupposing the laws of logic. Using logic is necessary for such argumentation but presupposing the truth of empiricism is problematic because logic cannot be accounted for empirically. Empiricism holds that all knowledge comes through the senses, but the laws of logic have never been observed by any of the senses since they are conceptual. Even if one were to make an appeal that every perceived contradiction they have ever encountered has been false, they still have no hope whatsoever of asserting the laws of non-contradiction on empiricism. This is, in part, due to the fact that the law is universal, but their experience is limited. There simply is no way to establish a universal law by one’s limited experience. Any attempt to do so would be committing the fallacy of induction because the induction could never be completed.

Another aspect of the laws of logic that must be established is the fact that the laws are timeless and fixed. There is simply no way to establish the timeless nature of a law on the basis of one’s own limited past experience and there is no way to empirically verify that the future will reflect the past because the future has not been observed. There is no basis for saying that the law of contradiction will stand tomorrow on an empirical foundation. No universal timeless law can ever be empirically verified because no one has experienced all the past or any of the future.

When the empiricist states, “all knowledge comes through the senses” he does not mean that “no knowledge comes through the senses” for that would contradict his claim. He is, therefore, using the law of non-contradiction in order to make his claim intelligible. It is ironic then that logic is necessary to define empiricism and give it meaning yet at the same time it requires that empiricism be regarded as false. The claim that all knowledge comes through the senses requires the application of the law of non-contradiction in order that it might be intelligible and understood yet the claim is self-contradictory. The claim that all knowledge comes through the senses is a knowledge claim that has not been observed by the senses. Empiricism has never been observed and cannot be empirically verified. Not only does empiricism fail to account for logic but the same logic that is necessary for its own definition requires that empiricism itself be rejected by the rational mind.

Many people attempt to combine rationalism with empiricism to overcome the shortcomings of both. Yet rationalism cannot deduce anything from logic alone, ultimately failing to account for logic itself, and empiricism cannot yield any knowledge or propositions from the senses, including the laws of logic. Just as the unbelievers require air to breathe with which to curse God, so also, they require the laws of logic in order to make their case against God intelligible. By way of analogy we can look to a group of angry protestors in Wisconsin who recently found themselves in an embarrassing situation. The headline reads, “Awkward: Protesters Fail to Inflate Coal Plant Balloon with Renewable Energy.”[ix] The group of unhappy activists was protesting Madison Gas and Electric’s new rates, complaining that it diminished consumer interest in renewable energy. To make their case loud and clear, they inflated a blow-up coal plant balloon using nothing but “renewable energy” while chanting “Coal has to go!” Unfortunately, the blow-up coal plant collapsed because their batteries ran out of power and their solar panel did not produce enough energy to keep it inflated. The group later admitted that they would normally inflate the prop with electrical wall outlets or gas-powered generators. The irony and foolishness of the situation aren't difficult to see. The energy company they were protesting against provides them the energy required to inflate the prop in their protest. Without that energy source, they can’t even inflate their prop. Atheists find themselves in a similar predicament. Without logic, they cannot make their case against Christianity, yet only the Christian worldview can account for logic. The Christian God must first provide man the ability to reason, and only then can he suppress the truth in unrighteousness (Romans 1:18).

Logic and knowledge

Many Christians don’t recognize man’s dependence on God for knowledge and how this relates to logic. Without logic, knowledge would be impossible because we could never know what is true; no distinction between truth and error could ever be made. The connection between man’s dependence on logic for knowledge and man’s dependence on God for knowledge is easily established in the person of Jesus Christ.

“In the first chapter of the Gospel of John, John wrote, ‘In the beginning was the Logos, and the Logos was with God, and the Logos was God.’ The Greek word Logos is usually translated Word, but it is better-translated Wisdom or Logic. Our English word logic comes from this Greek word logos. John was calling Christ the Wisdom or Logic of God. In verse nine, referring again to Christ, he says that Christ is ‘The true light’ who lights every man.”[x]

Jesus is the Logos--the Logic of God--that lights every man with knowledge. This is why the Scriptures tell us that in Christ Jesus "are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge" (Colossians 2:3). Here is the heart of Christian epistemology: All wisdom and knowledge are hidden in Christ. The fact that all knowledge is hidden in Christ means that man cannot search it out anywhere else. If Christ does not illuminate the mind of man, then man can know nothing at all. And because our ability to think rationally requires logic, man cannot even reason or think rationally apart from Christ, the Logic of God.

Rejecting Logic

The desire of the unbeliever to reject God may also cause him to reject logic as well. This should not come as a surprise to us since God has made "foolish the wisdom of the world" (1 Corinthians. 1:20). If the unbeliever forfeits logic then he has already lost the debate because all debates, all rational discourse, and all communication, presupposes logic. Without logic, the unbeliever cannot even make his case against Christianity intelligible.

Let us return to our unhappy protesters and consider for a moment that the coal plant balloon represents an argument against the company they were protesting. The protesters were protesting the energy company because of its non-renewable energy, yet they required that same non-renewable energy to inflate their balloon. Likewise, some atheists reject logic in order to make their arguments against Christianity, yet they require logic to make their arguments intelligible. Theoretical physicist and atheistic propagandist Stephen Hawking is one such example. Hawking writes: “Because there is a law such as gravity, the universe can and will create itself from nothing.”[xi] In order to argue for a self-created universe, one must reject the law of non-contradiction. For something to be its own creator and its own creation, it must exist and not exist at the same time and in the same sense. According to Aristotle, “The same attribute cannot at the same time belong and not belong to the same subject and in the same respect.”[xii] R. C. Sproul also notes that “for something to create itself, or to be its own effect as well as its own cause, it would have to exist before it existed. The universe, to be self-created, would have to be before it was. Stated in terms of the law of non-contradiction, the universe would have to be and not be at the same time and in the same relationship.”[xiii]

Hawking must reject the law of non-contradiction in order to argue for a self-created universe, but it is impossible for him to make his argument intelligible apart from the law of non-contradiction. That is because every word in his argument has definite and specific meaning.  As Dr. John Robbins wrote, “Each word has a definite meaning. In order to have a definite meaning, a word must not only mean something, it must also not mean something.”[xiv] When Hawking argues that “the universe can and will create itself from nothing,” he does not intend for us to understand that “the universe cannot and will not create itself from nothing,” for that would contradict his claim. The word “can” does not mean “cannot” and the word “will” does not mean “will not.” He is, therefore, rejecting the law of non-contradiction to make his argument while at the same time using the law of non-contradiction to make his argument intelligible. His argument is self-refuting. No rational person could ever accept such a position. Unfortunately, atheists make arguments like this all the time. However, if they insist on making logical blunders or advancing self-refuting arguments or dismissing logic altogether in order to maintain the position of atheism then so be it. Christians have nothing to fear, for “let God be true but every man a liar. As it is written: 'That you may be justified in your words, and may overcome when you are judged' " (Romans 3:4). Since the Bible alone can properly account for logic the unbeliever is forced steal from the Christian worldview in order to argue against it. This is the inevitable tragedy of every argument raised against the knowledge of Christ. “The fool says in his heart, ‘There is no God’” (Psalms 14:1).

[i] John W. Robbins, “Why Study Logic?”, The Trinity Review (July/August, 1985)

[ii] Gordon H. Clark, Logic, Fourth ed. (Unicoi, Tennessee: Trinity Foundation, 2004), 162.

[iii] Scripture references are ESV unless otherwise noted. All emphases in Scripture quotations are mine.

[iv] “Chapter 5 Logic.” In Defense of Theology, by Gordon H. Clark and John W. Robbins, Trinity Foundation, 2007, p. 48.

[v] Gordon H. Clark, “God and Logic,” The Trinity Review (November/December, 1980), edited by John W. Robbins, 4.

[vi] Clark, “God and Logic,” 3.

[vii] Gordon H. Clark, “The Theologian’s Besetting Sin,” The Trinity Review (March/April, 1992), edited by John W. Robbins.

[viii] Clark, “The Theologian’s Besetting Sin,”

[ix] Gutfield, Greg. "Awkward: Protesters Fail to Inflate Coal Plant Balloon With Renewable Energy." Fox News. FOX News Network, 16 Oct. 2016. Web. 24 June 2017. <http://insider.foxnews.com/2014/10/16/awkward-protesters-fail-inflate-coal-plant-balloon-renewable-energy>.

[x] Robbins, “Why Study Logic?”, 2.

[xi] Roberts, Laura. "Stephen Hawking: God Was Not Needed to Create the Universe." The Telegraph. September 2, 2010. Accessed November 10, 2014. Emphasis mine

[xii] Robbins, “Why Study Logic?”, 3.

[xiii] Sproul, R.C. "Self-Creation." In Defending Your Faith, 205. Wheaton, Illinois: Crossway Books, 200

[xiv] Robbins, “Why Study Logic?”, 4.