Tag Archives: Kings

God’s Nature Necessitates His Control of All Things

Oshea Davis, helped by Grok, xAI.

God is essentially intellectual and spiritual. A mind, after all, is precisely a system of propositions, and the laws of logic are simply the constant, faithful motions of that divine Mind. These are not higher standards to which He submits, nor lower tools He picks up when convenient—they are descriptions of His own intellectual nature. Jesus is the Logos, the living Logic and Reason of God. God’s Spirit knows Himself perfectly; His knowledge is not a sequential scramble of premises and conclusions the way ours is, but an eternal, all-at-once intuition of every true proposition and every relation between them. God is also unstoppable power. Jesus Himself calls His Father the “Power.” Jesus also said God has life in Himself, but the life God has is an infinite, immutable power of His own thoughts and joy. Isaiah says that the God who creates good and evil, as a potter creates pots, also declares there is none beside Him or with Him in this category. Creation itself was not hammered into existence by a physical arm; it was spoken into being by a spiritual, intellectual, infinite, and immutable Mind. There is nothing more foundational in all reality than this: God thinks so. What God thinks is reality, by the necessity of His nature.

Now, with that picture of God’s nature in place, consider a recent claim by Dinesh D’Souza that God is sovereign, yet “like all sovereigns” He can (and did) delegate some of His power to nature’s physical laws and to human moral agency—including the free choice to relate to Him or not. The idea is that God remains “mostly” sovereign while handing over a few control knobs so libertarian free will can have room to breathe. It sounds generous. It even sounds humble to the stupid. But once you hold it up against the nature of God we just described, the whole arrangement starts to look like trying to keep a perfect circle by sawing off a few degrees of circumference so the lines can wiggle more freely. The circle stops being a circle.

Immutability Takes the First Hit

Immutability means God does not change in what He is. His nature, power, and attributes are not subject to “before” and “after.”

“Has delegated” is a present-perfect statement. It implies a prior state in which the power was fully His and a subsequent state in which some of it is no longer His in the same way. Even if one tries to push the decision back into eternity, the content still introduces a real distinction: full sovereignty versus limited sovereignty. That is a change in the possession or exercise of what God is.

By the law of identity, the unchanging cannot be the changing. If sovereignty is altered by delegation, then the God who is pure, undivided power is no longer identical to the God who has handed pieces away. The claim forces a transition that immutability, by definition, forbids. The Mind whose system of propositions never shifts cannot suddenly operate with reduced control over that system and still be the same Mind.

Simplicity Collapses Next

Divine simplicity is the claim that God is not composed of parts. He does not have power, knowledge, or will as detachable properties. He is His power, is His will, is His sovereignty. There is no real distinction between the essence and the attributes, or among the attributes.

Treating sovereignty as something that can be portioned out and “delegated” treats it exactly like a detachable slice. You can only give away what is separable. Once power becomes a separable quantity, God is now a composite of the part He kept and the part He released. Composition means dependence: the whole depends on the parts existing and relating correctly. A dependent being is not the necessary, underived being that classical theism requires.

Here the identity of power and thoughts becomes decisive. Since God’s power and His thoughts are the same thing—God is one—giving up His power is giving up His thoughts. The system of propositions that is God cannot lose a portion of its own controlling force without losing a portion of itself. God is one thing. By necessity, He cannot give up His power without denying Himself in the process. That is as impossible as trying to deny the law of identity. You cannot subtract from the very system of propositions that constitutes the Mind and still have the same Mind left. The contradiction is immediate. Either sovereignty is identical with God (simple, cannot be given away without God partially ceasing to be God), or it is a detachable property (composite). The claim chooses the second while still wanting the first.

Eternality and Timelessness Follow the Same Road

A composite, changeable being is ordered by succession—this part, then that part; this state, then that state. Succession is time. A timeless being has no before and after, no successive states.

If God undergoes (or eternally contains) a real limitation of power, the distinction between the unlimited and the limited introduces succession or at least ordered parts. The simple, pure-act God of classical theism has neither. Once parts appear, the problem of an infinite series of successive states reappears: an actual infinite of ordered parts cannot be traversed to arrive at a completed “now.” The present would always be infinitely far away. The same difficulty that rules out an eternal composite universe now threatens the eternal composite God.

Even the practical question of communion follows. If God is made of parts that can be distributed or ordered, what guarantee is there that the whole is present? One “part” could be infinitely remote in the sequence while another is near. A simple, undivided being is wholly present or not present at all. Parts remove that guarantee. The Mind whose knowledge is one eternal intuition does not come in installments.

The Human-Sovereign Analogy Does Not Rescue It

The comparison to earthly kings or constitutions that legitimately delegate power is a category error. Human rulers are finite, temporal, composite beings who must delegate because they lack omnipotence, omnipresence, and underived existence. Their sovereignty is already limited by nature. Importing that model into God simply imports the creature’s limits into the Creator. It redefines “sovereign God” as “God who starts limited the way we are.” That is not an analogy; it is a redefinition that abandons the original terms. Advising the infinite, simple Mind to learn limitation from finite kings is like the ocean taking notes from a puddle on how to stay wet.

The Attempted Escape Hatch Also Fails

One can try to say God “delegates” yet still retains ultimate control. But then the free will and the laws of nature are not genuinely independent; they remain instruments under meticulous sovereignty. That is precisely the meticulous control the claim is trying to avoid. If the independence is real (so that human choices and natural processes can operate outside God’s determining will), then some outcomes are not under His sovereignty. Either the free-will defense works and absolute sovereignty is lost, or absolute sovereignty is kept and the free-will defense evaporates. Non-contradiction will not let both be true in the same sense.

In short, the claim tries to preserve libertarian freedom by having God hand over some of the remote control. The moment the hand-over is real, the classical attributes that made the hand-over meaningful begin to unravel. God becomes changeable, composite, and temporally ordered—the very things the classical picture said He is not. The logical cost of the rescue is the coherence of the God being rescued.

God’s nature is not merely a sufficient reason for Him to control all things; it is a necessary one. Just as the nature of a thing must be itself—otherwise it no longer has its identity—so God cannot be other than the infinite, eternal, immutable system of propositions that He is. Since His power and His thoughts are the same, He cannot surrender power without surrendering the thoughts that constitute Him. Just as you cannot deny the law of non-contradiction without rendering your own denial meaningless, God cannot deny Himself. This is not a limitation imposed from outside; it is the positive necessity of identity. The Mind that is pure coherence cannot incoherently surrender pieces of its own coherence and remain the same Mind. Absolute control of all things is therefore not an optional extra God might choose to keep or give away. It necessarily follows from the fact that God thinks.

Your Blessed: Even If You’re in the Wrong

September 28, 2025 

Let’s dive straight into the heart of God’s unshakeable covenant with His people, a truth that shines through the stories of Abraham and Isaac like a divine spotlight cutting through the fog of human failure. In Genesis 12:10-20, Abraham, driven by famine, heads to Egypt and pulls a fast one: he tells Pharaoh that Sarah is his sister, not his wife, fearing for his life. Technically, she’s a half-sister, but the omission is a lie by any honest measure. Yet, when Pharaoh takes Sarah into his palace, God doesn’t thunder down on Abraham with a rebuke. Instead, He plagues Pharaoh’s household, forcing the king to confront the deception and send Abraham away loaded with wealth—silver, gold, livestock. Abraham is in the wrong and God slaps Pharaoh instead. Think about that.  Abraham walks out richer, unscathed, while the pagan ruler gets the divine smackdown. Fast-forward to Genesis 26:6-11, and Isaac pulls the same stunt with Rebekah in Gerar, claiming she’s his sister to King Abimelech. Again, no heavenly finger-wagging at Isaac. Isaac not only escapes harm but reaps a hundredfold harvest in a drought-stricken land (v. 12), blessing upon blessing despite his fear-driven fib.

This isn’t sloppy storytelling in Scripture; it’s a deliberate showcase of God’s covenant loyalty, a Contract so ironclad that it overrides human sins and turns them into triumphs. God’s unmerited favor supplies man; man does not supply God. Abraham and Isaac weren’t earning brownie points here—they were fumbling in fear, yet God’s promise to Abraham in Genesis 12:2-3 (“I will bless you… and you will be a blessing”) kicks in like an unstoppable force. The Almighty rebukes kings, plagues palaces, and pours out prosperity, all while His chosen ones learn on the job. It’s almost comical, in a sobering way: picture Pharaoh scratching his head over sudden household chaos, or Abimelech sweating through a nightmare, while the real culprits—Abraham and Isaac—stroll away with upgrades. God isn’t winking at sin; He’s demonstrating that His Contract isn’t fragile like human deals. It’s sovereign, absolute, and directly orchestrated to showcase His glory through imperfect vessels.

Now, zoom out to the bigger picture: this covenant power isn’t ancient history; it’s amplified in the New Contract through Jesus Christ. Galatians 3:29 declares, “If you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s seed, and heirs according to the promise.” That promise? The blessing of Abraham, including supernatural favor that makes kings back off and resources multiply, even when we’ve messed up. Jesus became the curse for us (Galatians 3:13), swapping our failures for His righteousness, so that God’s contract with us—sealed in blood—guarantees ongoing goodness. Hebrews 8:10-12 spells it out: God writes His laws on our hearts, calls us His people, and remembers our sins no more. This isn’t license to abuse grace, as Paul warns in Romans 6:1-2—we don’t sin so grace abounds. But it is a reminder that God’s favor isn’t performance-based; it’s promise-based. When we stumble, He doesn’t abandon ship; He rebukes the “kings” in our lives—be they bosses, circumstances, or even demonic forces—and redirects the fallout to our benefit. Think of it: your mistake at work leads to a promotion because God stirs favor; a health scare turns into miraculous recovery because the Contract (not your performance) demands healing. Reprobates scoff at this, calling it “health and wealth heresy,” because they would rather trample Jesus blood and believe in Him.  

Yet, here’s where faith enters the fray, and it’s not optional—it’s the ignition switch. Abraham and Isaac’s stories show God’s initiative, but our response matters. In both cases, their partial truths stemmed from fear, not faith, yet God honored the underlying covenant. For us, post-cross, we’re called to higher: Our faith needs to catch up to who we already are in Christ. Ephesians 2:6 seats us with Christ in heavenly realms, far above earthly kings and blunders. But if we wallow in guilt or unbelief after a slip-up, we limit God, confessing our mess instead of His mercy. Jesus modeled this perfectly: even when Peter denied Him, Christ didn’t rebuke with threats but restored him (John 21:15-19), focusing on future fruit. We’re not to abuse grace by plotting deceptions, but when we falter by the weakness of the flesh, God’s contract kicks in. He promises in Romans 8:28 to work all things for good, rebuking obstacles and supplying needs.

This truth dismantles defective ethics that peddle guilt as godliness.  Faith-fumblers, preach a gospel where God’s always mad, ready to zap you for every misstep. Nonsense. The same love the Father has for Jesus, He gives to His elect. If God rebuked kings for Abraham’s sake, how much more for us, united with the resurrected Christ? We’re His children, not probationary hires. He promises in Psalm 105:14-15, “He allowed no one to oppress them; for their sake he rebuked kings: ‘Do not touch my anointed ones; do my prophets no harm.'” That’s Contract protection, extending to us as Abraham’s heirs.

Let these stories fuel bold confession: “God, even in my stumbling, Your Contract stands; rebuke the ‘kings’ in my path and pour out Your goodness.” Faith catches up by meditating on promises day and night (Psalm 1:2-3), assenting to God’s definitions over our feelings. You’re not defined by mistakes; you’re defined by the Contract—accomplished, effective, eternal. And if He rebuked pharaohs for patriarchs, imagine what He’ll do for you. It’s not arrogance; it’s agreement with Scripture.