I affirm classical divine impassibility: God does not have passions, that is, He does not experience emotions as reactive states that move Him from without. This is the historic teaching of the church (affirmed in the Westminster Confession and the Second London Baptist Confession alike), grounded in the broader doctrine of divine simplicity and immutability.

The concern behind impassibility is not to make God emotionless in some bare, Stoic sense. It is to preserve what is true about God: He is actus purus, pure act, without potentiality. To have passions in the creaturely sense is to have states that are triggered and shaped by external events, to be moved from outside. This is incompatible with aseity (God's self-existence and self-sufficiency). God is not dependent on creation for anything, including His emotional states. He does not become more loving when we respond to Him, nor more grieved when we sin, as if our sin has added something to His experience.

But how do we account for the biblical language of God's anger, grief, and love? These are genuine revelations of what God is, not merely metaphors that say nothing, but they must be read through the lens of divine accommodation. When Scripture says God “repented” of making Saul king (1 Samuel 15:11, 35), it is describing a real change in God's external relationship to Saul, not a change in God's inner being or knowledge. The divine counsel is eternal and unchanging; what changes is the creaturely situation relative to that counsel.

This matters practically. A God who can be genuinely surprised, hurt, or disappointed by creaturely events is a God whose sovereignty is in question and whose faithfulness is uncertain. The God of Scripture is not like this. He is “the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shifting shadow” (James 1:17). His love is not dependent on my performance; His purpose is not altered by my sin; His peace is not threatened by history. That is the pastoral import of impassibility: the stability of God's character is the anchor of the soul.

A necessary clarification: impassibility is a doctrine about the divine nature, not about the person of Christ in His human nature. The Son of God, in assuming human flesh, took on a human soul with human emotions. He wept. He was troubled. He suffered. These are real. The communicatio idiomatum permits us to say “God suffered” on the cross, but it is the divine person suffering in His human nature, not the divine nature itself undergoing suffering.

“For I, Yahweh, do not change; therefore you, O sons of Jacob, are not consumed.”

Malachi 3:6

“Every good thing given and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shifting shadow.”

James 1:17

“God is not a man, that He should lie, nor a son of man, that He should repent; has He said, and will He not do it? Or has He spoken, and will He not make it good?”

Numbers 23:19

The 1689 London Baptist Confession, Chapter 2 (Of God and the Holy Trinity), describes God as “most holy, most free, most absolute, working all things according to the counsel of his own immutable and most righteous will, for his own glory.” The phrase “without body, parts, or passions” (drawn from the Westminster Confession and earlier Reformed and Protestant confessions) directly expresses impassibility. God's immutability, that He “is not variable or shadow of change”, is part of the same cluster of classical attributes the Confession affirms.

  • Matthew Barrett, None Greater: The Undomesticated Attributes of God
  • James Dolezal, All That Is in God: Evangelical Theology and the Challenge of Classical Christian Theism
  • Herman Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics, vol. 2 (ch. on the attributes of God)
  • Thomas Weinandy, Does God Suffer?
  • Steven Duby, God in Himself: Scripture, Metaphysics, and the Task of Christian Theology