In the book of Ecclesiastes, Solomon makes this curious statement: “For in much wisdom is much vexation, and he who increases knowledge increases sorrow” (Ecc 1:18). It’s not much of an incentive for growing in wisdom, is it! It is true, wisdom does bring sorrow as a handmaiden to those who embrace her. This reality does not diminish from the blessedness of gaining wisdom, and as well we should note that: the bitterness of sorrow sweetens the taste of joy when it comes. Nevertheless, we must come to accept the reality that deeper wisdom brings deeper sorrow.
It makes sense when you think about it. We live in a world of countless sorrows, and to grow in wisdom is to grow in our perception of our place in God’s world, and how we should live. Of course, then, we will come to deeper levels of understanding and perception of the sorrows of this world. In that deeply moving hymn, “Abide with me”, we find this expressed most potently:
“Abide with me; fast falls the eventide;
The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide.
When other helpers fail and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, O abide with me.
Swift to its close ebbs out life’s little day;
Earth’s joys grow dim, its glories pass away;
Change and decay in all around I see—
O Thou who changest not, abide with me.
(“Abide with Me,” written by Henry Francis Lyte in 1847.)
Note those final lines: “Change and decay in all around I see, O Thou who changest not, abide with me.” These may just be the finest lines outside of scripture that were ever penned on the doctrine of the immutability of God. They begin to draw our attention to just how significant this doctrine really is, and how deeply important it is for us to understand the changeless glory of our God.
In the year of writing these words, I have turned 40 years old. I am finding that, as time goes by, my sense of sorrow grows deeper. It was something I was almost unaware of as a child, and it was likewise easily overshadowed by the energy and brightness of a youth spent in Tasmanian summer days. Since those days, it has crept in to my mind in a thousand different ways. A longing for home that has never fully been met. A hardship unlooked for. The disappearance of toddling little feet in my home (there are now many more man-sized-type feet, by the way, a joy to be sure! But still there is a sorrow). The realisation that the old, friendly, Anglican ladies of my childhood, who grew up in the 1950s and sold the best lemon butter known to man at small town fetes...well, they have departed these mortal shores, and their lemon butter is gone. I have seen sorrow in the sad trajectory of an old friend who ended up in troubles that I never anticipated. Marriages split that I thought never would. The knowledge of a last conversation with a loved one. Small things. Big things. Sorrow.
Change in a fallen world brings a deep sorrow with it. Perhaps this is one of the reasons why our Saviour was a man of sorrows, because he saw and perceived the nature of this change with perfect clarity.
In response to this “change and decay in all around I see”, it is the changeless nature of God that comforts me. What we are saying in the doctrine of the immutability of God, simply put, is that God does not change. In one sense, it is as simple as that. “Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change” (James 1:17). “For I the Lord do not change; therefore you, O children of Jacob, are not consumed” (Mal 3:6). “Of old you laid the foundation of the earth, and the heavens are the work of your hands. They will perish, but you will remain; they will all wear out like a garment. You will change them like a robe, and they will pass away, but you are the same, and your years have no end” (Ps 102:25-27).
“The most stable objects in the visible universe, the ground beneath our feet and the skies above our heads, change, decay, and ultimately will be destroyed, but the Creator is of another nature than creation, and he abides forever unchanged” (Beeke & Smalley, RST Vol 1, p.688).
There are some in the history of the Church who have debated this point, arguing against it. It is tragic that this is the case, because it is an error, and potentially a heresy, that obscures his glory and erodes our own spiritual stability. But we must get this solidly down and settled in our minds: God doesn’t change. Consider this from Herman Bavinck’s perspective: “The difference between the Creator and the creature hinges on the contrast between being and becoming… All that is creaturely is in process of becoming. It is changeable, constantly striving, in search of rest and satisfaction, and finds this rest only in him who is pure being without becoming” (Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics Vol 2, p.156). If God is subject to change, then he is either not yet perfect (i.e. he is becoming better), or he has diminished from a perfection he once had (i.e. he has changed for the worse). Think about that, and you will begin to see why denying this doctrine presents such monumental problems. As Turretin put it: “He can neither be changed for the better (because he is the best) nor for the worse because he would cease to be the most perfect” (Turretin, Institutes Vol 1, p.205). So then, settle this in your mind: God does not change. SDG.
Q. What is the immutability of God?
A. God’s immutability is the changeless perfection of his being in which his every attribute, counsel, and purpose is eternally sustained without any contradiction, variation, or alteration whatever.
Q. Why do we confess that God is unchanging?
Answer: We confess that God is unchanging because it is the certain testimony of scripture, because it is necessary in order for us to properly declare his glory, and because it is necessary for our growth and assurance in faith.
