Tim Stratton has repeatedly argued that Calvinism—if consistent—renders God a “deity of deception.” The idea is simple but alarming: if God determines all beliefs, and some of those beliefs are false (including beliefs about God Himself), then God must be directly causing theological falsehood—and thus functions as a deceiver:
“If exhaustive divine determinism is true, then God causally determines all false theological beliefs—even those about Himself. That would make Him the ultimate source of deception.”
Stratton insists this is a moral and theological reductio of Calvinism. But the argument fails. It equivocates on deception, assumes a univocal theory of divine causality, and misunderstands the metaphysics of creation. Worse, when scrutinized formally, Stratton’s own framework collapses under a parallel dilemma.
Let’s first clarify the objection, and then expose its errors.
1. Stratton’s “Deity of Deception” Argument
In popular form, Stratton’s argument is structured like this:
- If exhaustive divine determinism (EDD) is true, then God determines all thoughts, beliefs, and actions.
- Many beliefs determined by God are false (including theological ones).
- Therefore, if EDD is true, God determines people to believe falsehoods about Himself.
- Anyone who intentionally causes others to believe falsehoods about ultimate reality is a deceiver.
- Therefore, under EDD, God is a deceiver.
Here is a tighter Jimmy version of the argument:
P1. If divine Calvinistic determinism (CD) is true, then God determines all of our beliefs.
P2. Some of our beliefs about God are false.
P3. Anyone who intentionally causes others to believe falsehoods about God is a deceiver.
C. Therefore, if CD is true, then God is a deceiver.
Stratton sometimes strengthens premise 4 by appealing to the Bible:
“Scripture is clear that God is not a God of confusion. But if EDD is true, and God determines every false belief—including false theological beliefs—then He is the author of confusion.”
—Stratton, FreeThinking Ministries
Response to Stratton’s Rejoinder #1: “My Argument is Deductive”
Stratton opens his rebuttal by emphasizing:
“My argument is deductive. It starts with what EDD-Calvinists themselves claim: God determines all thoughts and beliefs (by antecedent conditions sufficient to necessitate them)… Therefore, God determines all Christ followers (and everyone else) to affirm false theological beliefs. The conclusion follows necessarily.”
But this is not in dispute. No one here is challenging whether the argument is formally valid—the logical structure may be sound. The problem is that validity is not the same as truth. An argument can be valid and still entirely unpersuasive if its premises are question-begging or misrepresent the opponent’s position.
Premise 4 is the central point of dispute in Stratton’s argument, as it assumes that if God determines someone to believe a falsehood, He thereby deceives them. But this conflates divine determination with human-like manipulation, which is precisely what is contested. The argument fails to account for the categorical difference between divine and human agency.
We deny that divine determination entails deception in the way Stratton claims. We maintain that God’s agency is categorically different from human agency. To assume otherwise—to equate determination with deception—is simply to beg the question against Calvinism. It makes no effort to grapple with our view of providence and divine authorship.
So yes, the syllogism is deductively valid. But its persuasive force relies entirely on unargued assumptions about divine action—assumptions that Calvinists explicitly reject. Thus, the argument is not neutral or fair; it is loaded from the outset.
2. The Fallacy of Univocal Agency
The central flaw in Stratton’s argument lies in premise 4, which equates God’s determination of false belief with deception. This conclusion only follows if one assumes a univocal theory of agency—that divine causation operates on the same level, and under the same moral constraints, as human causation. But this assumption is precisely what Reformed theology rejects.
In the Reformed framework, God is not merely one causal agent among others. His agency is categorically distinct from that of creatures. He does not operate within a preexisting moral and causal order, attempting to influence autonomous agents. Rather, He is the Creator of that entire order—its ground and sustainer—including the very framework in which truth, falsehood, judgment, and redemption unfold.
When a human deceives, they do so within a structure of obligations imposed by God and shared with fellow creatures. But God is not a peer among moral subjects. He is not bound by an external law; He is the source of all things. To accuse God of deception on the basis that He determines someone to believe a falsehood is to collapse radically distinct categories of causality—what we might distinguish as authorial causality versus in-world manipulation.
This leads to a crucial distinction. First, God is not the direct agent of deception in the way creatures are. God does not manipulate the mind like a deceiver exploiting what is already in the heart; rather, He brings all things into being—including false beliefs—through secondary, or what I call creaturely, causes that correspond to the agent’s own disposition toward deception. God does not force people into error; He sovereignly brings about who they are, and they freely embrace what accords with their nature. Rather, He ordains every aspect of a person’s environment, nature, and historical location such that they, acting freely within those ordained conditions, come to believe something false (if not the manipulation of other created agents). No human being possesses such exhaustive, creative control over another’s beliefs. Therefore, it is illegitimate to infer divine deception from human examples, because God’s causal power is ontologically unique.
Second, we must ask: Can God cause someone to be deceived without being a deceiver? The answer is yes. Deception, properly speaking, entails a morally blameworthy intent to mislead another agent under shared moral accountability. But God’s intentions in ordaining false belief are not manipulative or self-serving. They may serve righteous judgment, just retribution, disciplinary providence, or redemptive unveiling. Even when God intends someone to believe a falsehood, He is not acting deceitfully—because the very notion of deception presupposes moral categories that do not apply to the Creator in the same way they apply to creatures.
Moreover, labeling God a deceiver in such cases requires an unwarranted psychological projection onto divine consciousness—assuming that God reasons, deliberates, and holds obligations in the same way human minds do. Stratton presumes far more than he can establish.
The accusation of divine deception only gains plausibility by collapsing the Creator–creature distinction—treating God’s transcendent authorship as if it were merely an amplified form of creaturely influence. But this is a category error. God determines all things that come to pass, including error and belief, yet remains perfectly holy, just, and good. His causation is transcendent and unlike such of anything else. And for that very reason, He cannot be charged with deception on the terms Stratton assumes.
Response to Stratton’s Rejoinder #2: “The Creator–Creature Distinction Doesn’t Rescue EDD”
Stratton objects:
“The article basically says, ‘God’s agency is categorically different, so you can’t call Him deceptive.’ But that’s just hand-waving past the epistemic problem.”
But this badly misrepresents the structure of the debate. The core issue isn’t whether his argument is deductive or whether EDD entails that God determines false beliefs. The real issue is whether premise 4 of Stratton’s argument is sound:
- If God is morally responsible for causing false beliefs about Himself, He is a deceiver.
I reject this premise because it presumes a univocal view of divine and human agency. Stratton never proves this presumption—he simply builds it into his argument and declares any challenge to it to be hand-waving. That is not an argument. It’s a dismissal. So rather than me “hand-waving,” it is Stratton who dismisses the response to his key premise under dispute. His argument requires 4 to be true in order to reach his conclusion, but that’s exactly what I’m challenging. And his only reply is to assert it again and treat the denial of univocal agency as a dodge.
3. The Author–Story Analogy: Causal Asymmetry
To clarify the asymmetry, consider a novelist who writes a story in which a character believes something false. Is the author deceiving the character? Of course not. The author’s intention is not directed at the character’s “mind,” but at the structure of the narrative.
In the same way, God’s causality is narrative authorship, not mutual interaction. It brings into being an entire created order of causes, effects, beliefs, and errors. That framework itself is revelatory of God’s glory—including His judgment, mercy, and truth.
Stratton objects that the analogy fails because fictional characters are not “real”:
“The author analogy fails because God holds real persons accountable. Novelists don’t hold fictional characters morally responsible.”
—Tim Stratton
But this misses the point. The analogy does not depend on the fictional status of characters. It depends on the asymmetry between Author and story—which maps precisely onto the Creator-creature distinction.
Just as fictional characters have no independent ontology, creatures exist only by the will and word of God. Their beliefs, whether true or false, are comprehended within His purpose.
As Jimmy Stephens states:
The analogy serves the purpose for which it’s given. It shows an ordinary case where we differentiate categorically between author-causality and story-causality (or fictional causality, if you prefer). The story-causality – all the ontological truthmakers of any true proposition about the story’s causality whatsoever – is totally caused by the author-cause. So a preceding agent causes a total lesser causal reality. That’s the analog.
I’ve got one more fundamental form of causality. It produces a less fundamental form of causality. That’s authorship.
If someone wants to object about fictitiousness, they ought to produce the argument that fictitiousness is relevant to the analogy. And to that I say:
Good luckSo yeah, as fictions exist only as mental constructs of an author, there is something like that comparison between us and God. Agree with that.
When opponents of the author-story analogy complain about the story’s less-real-ness (viz. fictitiousness), that just goes to show that what they really demand is to have wiggle room for something that exists independent of God, autonomous of His creative decree.
And really, all of this goes to show that the opponents are not only confused about God and His sovereignty, but also about the nature of fiction.
What would it even mean for God to create a fiction? On the other hand, how could I speak anything into existence except make-believe?
People have an ordinary intuitive determinist presupposition about how author-fiction stuff works, but they also tend to have a retarded spooky notion of what “fiction” is that floats around without a clear definition too.
What makes fiction different from non-fiction?
But that means that, for something to be fictional, there must be created minds in a created historical environment, which situation then both gives minds the content by which to imagine things not naturally found in that environment, nor representing what has occurred in history.
Does God have an environment like that? Is he subject to changing moments on a developing timeline to differentiate fiction from fact? No, that’s nonsense.
So what would it even mean for God to have fictions?
At the same time, God’s existence is not our existence. His essence is sui generis. He is self-existent, self-sufficient, self-contained.
So anything He creates will, by the entailment of His own character and freedom, be infinitely less real than He is. It will not exist in such a strong sense. That is, it will be utterly derivative, produced, made what it is by the One before it.
And that’s quite analogous to our fictions. They’re just make-believe. But that’s because they have no ontological independence from us whatsoever. They’re just projections of our minds based on creative play with the “toys” of what God’s creation impresses on our minds.
All this to say, the author-fiction analogy is clear with the barest analysis, and the same analysis shows that the fictitiousness is utterly irrelevant because it too has an analog and that analog (derivativeness / less-real-ness) is neither relevant to the analogy as used, nor problematic when considered.
Response to Stratton’s Rejoinder #3: Misunderstanding the Author–Story Analogy and the Creator–Creature
Stratton objects:
“The ‘author/story’ analogy is irrelevant. Novelists don’t hold their characters morally responsible. God does hold us responsible. You can’t simultaneously treat us like fictional puppets and also hold us accountable for every move.”
But this objection is a category mistake. It misunderstands both how the analogy is used and what it is meant to illustrate.
First, the analogy does not claim that humans are literally fictional characters. Rather, it models the asymmetry of metaphysical dependence: just as authors control the entire narrative structure of their stories—including every thought, motive, and event—so too does God ordain all things in a way that upholds His sovereignty. Yet the analogy is deliberately nuanced: characters within a story retain meaningful causality within the world of the story, and the author stands above that world. In the same way, God ordains history while preserving creaturely agency within it.
Second, Stratton’s objection is further undercut by the fact that many authors do hold their characters accountable—within the moral structure of their created worlds. Take Game of Thrones, where every act of treachery and power-lust leads to downfall. There is an internal moral order established by the author, and the narrative delivers just consequences for evil. The storyworld has built-in moral gravity. Similarly, in God’s providential ordering of the world, actions carry moral weight, consequences, and responsibility for human agents—all according to a sovereign design.
Third, Stratton claims he is not attacking God’s character but only raising an epistemic concern. This is disingenuous. To accuse God of determining deception is to accuse Him of immoral behavior, since deception is by nature morally charged. Epistemic norms and ethical norms are intimately linked—this is the basis of “companions in guilt” arguments in epistemology and ethics. If God cannot be trusted due to His causal involvement in deception, then the problem is both moral and epistemic. There is no way to isolate one from the other. Calling God a deceiver—explicitly or by implication—is an assault on His character.
Finally, all of this brings us back to the point the author/story analogy is actually meant to convey: the ontological gap between Creator and creature. Stratton’s argument presupposes that divine agency operates univocally with human agency—that if God ordains a deception, He must be deceiving in the same way a human would be. But that collapses the Creator-creature distinction, which is central to Reformed theology. The author/story analogy helps preserve this distinction by modeling how God can sovereignly ordain events, including human deception, without being guilty of deception Himself.
4. Stratton’s Parallel Dilemma: A Formal Rebuttal
Stratton claims Calvinism makes God a deceiver because it entails that God determines all false beliefs. But this same logic applies to Molinism, Arminianism, and any theological system in which God knowingly permits people to believe falsehoods—despite having the power to prevent it.
Let’s even grant Stratton’s distinction: Molinism affirms predestination without necessitation. That is, God doesn’t cause every belief by antecedent sufficient conditions but does knowingly and voluntarily choose a world in which certain people will hold false beliefs. But that’s all we need to construct the same argument Stratton uses against Calvinism:
D1. If God knowingly and voluntarily actualizes a world in which people believe falsehoods about ultimate reality, then God is morally responsible for those false beliefs.
D2. On Molinism (and on any theistic view with divine foreknowledge), God knowingly and voluntarily actualizes a world in which people believe falsehoods about ultimate reality.
D3. Therefore, on such views, God is morally responsible for those false beliefs.
D4. Anyone morally responsible for knowingly instantiating false beliefs about ultimate reality is, by Stratton’s definition, a deceiver.
D5. Therefore, on Molinism (or any comparable view), God is a deceiver.
This is precisely Stratton’s own logic—only with “determine” replaced by “actualize” or “permit.” If he accepts this logic against Calvinism, he must accept it here. If he rejects the conclusion, he must reject one of the premises—and thus abandon his original argument.
There’s no escaping this dilemma by redefining causality. If God could have prevented someone from believing a falsehood—by choosing a different world, intervening, or giving clearer revelation—but chooses not to, then He knowingly ensures that the falsehood occurs. And if that counts as deception under Stratton’s moral definition, then any sovereign God is a deceiver.
Response to Stratton’s Rejoinder #4: The Tu Quoque
Stratton objects:
“The ‘tu quoque’ against Molinism fails. The article just swaps out ‘determine’ for ‘actualize’ and says: ‘See? Molinism has the same problem!’ But this ignores the modal difference Molinism preserves. Under Molinism, God knows what libertarian agents would freely do—but does not causally necessitate their doing it. That means false beliefs are contingent on creaturely freedom, not necessitated by antecedent conditions. EDD, by contrast, wipes out contingency altogether.”
But this distinction fails to defuse the argument. The modal language Stratton invokes—”would freely do”—is irrelevant if the end result is that God knowingly and voluntarily actualizes a world in which agents infallibly believe falsehoods. Stratton admits God knowingly instantiates a world where false beliefs occur, and that those beliefs cannot fail to occur in the actualized world. That is, they are not merely possibly false, but necessarily false within the actual world God decreed. That is all the Calvinist argument requires.
Moreover, the so-called “modal difference” between determine and actualize collapses under scrutiny. Anderson’s point is that once God decrees to actualize a particular world, then all of the contents of that world—including the false beliefs—are fixed and guaranteed. There is no feasible world in which agents act differently once God’s decree is in place. So whether God causes the belief directly (as in EDD) or indirectly via middle knowledge (as in Molinism), the epistemic result is the same: God knowingly and infallibly ensures the existence of false theological beliefs.
And that is all that’s needed for Stratton’s “Deity of Deception” argument to boomerang.
Furthermore, Stratton relies on a libertarian conception of freedom that presupposes agents must have been able to do otherwise to avoid moral responsibility or deception. But once God actualizes the world, the agent cannot do otherwise in the actual world. The decision is metaphysically locked in. So either:
- God’s decree is infallible, and the agent cannot do otherwise in the actual world (in which case the freedom is irrelevant), or
- The agent can do otherwise in the actual world, and God’s decree is fallible (which contradicts divine sovereignty and infallibility).
Thus, the Molinist cannot escape the force of the tu quoque argument simply by invoking contingency or modality. Actualization with full foreknowledge of every outcome—without the ability to change those outcomes—still constitutes guaranteeing false beliefs, and thus, on Stratton’s logic, makes God a deceiver.
Moreover, Stratton’s objection backfires because of his own commitment to univocalism—treating divine and human agency as operating under the same moral categories. According to Stratton and everyone else, deception does not require determinism in the Calvinist sense. Rather, deception simply requires that someone knows another is believing a falsehood and fails to correct them when they could.
But if that’s the standard, then God is still a deceiver under Molinism. On Molinism, God actualizes a world in which He knows people will hold false beliefs about Himself—beliefs that He has the power to correct at any time, yet chooses not to. That alone is sufficient, by Stratton’s own standard, to count as deception. One need not causally determine a false belief to be morally responsible for it; it is enough to knowingly allow it when one has the power to prevent it.
So this isn’t simply a semantic quibble about the difference between “determine” and “actualize.” Stratton’s argument commits him to the view that withholding correction, when it is within one’s power to give it, makes one a deceiver. But that is precisely what God does in Molinism.
Thus, on Stratton’s own terms, Molinism does not escape the “deity of deception” charge—it collapses into it. The tu quoque stands.
Stratton’s Epistemic Standard Applied to Molinism
- If God knowingly permits people to hold false beliefs about Himself when He could correct them, then God is a deceiver.
- On Molinism, God knowingly actualizes a world in which people hold false beliefs about Him and chooses not to correct them, though He could.
- Therefore, on Molinism, God is a deceiver.
This parallels Stratton’s own reasoning. The only difference is the causal modality—“determines” versus “actualizes with foreknowledge and non-intervention.” But under Stratton’s univocal understanding of moral agency, this distinction makes no moral or epistemic difference.
If his argument succeeds against Calvinism, it also succeeds against Molinism. If it doesn’t apply to Molinism, then it fails against Calvinism as well. Therefore, Stratton must either:
- (a) abandon his premise that failing to correct false beliefs entails deception,
- or (b) abandon univocalism and admit that God’s agency is not subject to the same rules and inferences as human agency.
Either move dissolves the force of his “deity of deception” argument—and shows that Calvinism is no worse off epistemically than his own view.
Jimmy Stephens also points out:
Stratton assumes that anyone who causes false belief is a deceiver. Yet this standard is self-defeating. Your own cognitive faculties have caused you to believe falsehoods at times—even about God. If causation of error is sufficient for skepticism, then your own mind is epistemically suspect. But if not, then causation of false belief does not entail deception. Either way, Stratton’s standard proves too much.
Feasibility for Thee but Not for Me?
If Stratton appeals to feasibility constraints to excuse the Molinist God—claiming God could not actualize a world without false beliefs due to the counterfactuals of creaturely freedom—then we must ask: why wouldn’t this same principle rescue Calvinism from his charge of divine deception?
Stratton cannot say:
“My God permits deception because He had no better feasible options, so He’s not a deceiver.”
—while simultaneously saying—
“Your God permits deception because He willed it, so He’s a deceiver.”
Why? Because the very heart of Stratton’s epistemic objection is not about intent or feasibility but outcome:
False beliefs are determined, and therefore I cannot know whether my beliefs are true.
But if that’s the standard, then the Molinist God also fails. He still permits people to believe falsehoods and chooses not to intervene, even knowing it would result in confusion about Himself. The reason He allows it—whether deterministically willed or constrained by feasibility—is irrelevant under Stratton’s own argument.
Thus, if feasibility removes divine culpability for Molinism, then Calvinism must be allowed the same courtesy.
Stratton cannot have it both ways:
- If feasibility conditions absolve the Molinist God of moral and epistemic guilt,
then they also absolve the Calvinist God. - But if feasibility conditions do not absolve the Calvinist God,
then the Molinist God remains guilty—and the “deity of deception” argument backfires.
Either way, Stratton’s appeal to feasibility is a double-edged sword, and it cuts just as deeply into his own system.
5. The Problem with Denying Divine Causality in Hardening
Some libertarian theologians try to avoid the force of the biblical texts by saying God’s role in hardening or deception is “judicial, not causal.” But that move is incoherent. These passages do not describe God merely permitting something to happen. Rather, they depict God as doing something—as intervening in such a way that the person does not believe the truth. If God’s action is causally irrelevant—if it makes no difference to the outcome—then the text becomes unintelligible.
Let’s examine some representative examples:
🛑 2 Thessalonians 2:11–12
“Therefore God sends them a strong delusion, so that they may believe what is false, in order that all may be condemned…”
This is not permissive language. It is active:
- “God sends the delusion” — an intentional act.
- “So that they may believe what is false” — a result tied directly to the divine action.
If God’s sending of the delusion were causally irrelevant, then the passage would mean:
“God sent a delusion, but it had no actual impact on whether they believed falsehoods.”
This empties the text of its force and coherence. It asserts a divine act that has no purpose or consequence. That’s absurd.
🛑 Isaiah 6:9–10 (cf. John 12:39–40)
“Make the heart of this people dull, and their ears heavy, and blind their eyes, lest they see with their eyes and hear with their ears, and understand with their hearts, and turn and be healed.”
God commands Isaiah to engage in prophetic ministry that will produce spiritual blindness. The result is not incidental—it is the intended and necessary consequence of God’s judicial action.
If God’s hardening were non-causal, then we’d have to believe:
“God blinded their eyes—but they would have been blind anyway, regardless of His action.”
That’s functionally the same as saying God did nothing.
🛑 Deuteronomy 29:4
“To this day the Lord has not given you a heart to understand or eyes to see or ears to hear.”
God’s act of not giving understanding is the explanatory reason why Israel remains blind. This is not a passive absence of help; it is a deliberate withholding.
To say this is not causal is to imply:
“They would have been blind anyway, even if the Lord had given them the ability to see.”
But then what was the point of mentioning God’s withholding at all?
🛑 Romans 11:7–8
“What Israel sought to obtain it did not obtain, but the elect did. The rest were hardened, as it is written, ‘God gave them a spirit of stupor, eyes that would not see and ears that would not hear.’”
This explicitly grounds the people’s failure to believe in a divine act: God gave them spiritual stupor. Not merely that He foresaw their rebellion, but that He gave them up to blindness.
Again, if God’s action is non-causal here, the statement becomes nonsense:
“God gave them spiritual stupor, but it had no effect on whether they were spiritually stuporous.”
That’s no different than saying: “God hardened them, but they would have been hardened anyway.”
In which case—why mention God’s act at all?
The Incoherence of a Non-Causal Divine Judgment
To say God’s role is “judicial but not causal” is to claim that He acts in judgment—but that the judgment does nothing. It is like saying a judge pronounces a sentence, but that sentence has no effect on the prisoner’s fate.
This empties Scripture of its meaning. It does something. If God’s hardening, blinding, or sending delusion makes no difference to the person’s actual belief or response, then God is irrelevant to the very outcomes He claims to govern. But Scripture repeatedly and explicitly ties those outcomes to His actions. Further, even if one concedes (as some libertarians do) that divine hardening is an extension or confirmation of someone’s prior unbelief, the text still ties that extension directly to God’s action. And this matters.
Because if God’s hardening simply extends or intensifies a person’s rebellion, then that extension itself is an act—a divine intervention with real consequences. Whatever subsequent error, belief, or moral failure follows is downstream of what God does. The resulting mistake is not merely permitted in a passive framework; it is bound up with divine causality. Scripture doesn’t describe it as God “letting them go” in some bare sense—it says He gives them over (Rom 1:24), blinds (John 12:40), hardens (Rom 11:7), and sends delusion (2 Thess 2:11). These are all active verbs.
So even if hardening is judicial in response to sin, the effect remains: what follows is caused by God. The extension of unbelief, the deepening of error, the calcification of false belief—all of it flows from divine decision and divine agency.
To try to distance God from that outcome by saying “He didn’t start the process” is like saying a surgeon who knowingly cuts deeper into an already infected wound bears no responsibility for the further damage—when in fact, his act is what extends the condition.
There is no theologically coherent way to say God hardens, blinds, or judges, and yet claim that the resulting error or false belief is somehow not causally traceable to Him.
Response to Stratton’s Rejoinder #5: The Bible
Stratton argues:
“The appeal to verses about hardening and delusion doesn’t help the Calvinist’s case — it proves mine. Those verses show that God sometimes judicially sends delusion in response to persistent and free rebellion. But even here, humans are held responsible because they could have done otherwise earlier in the process.”
But this response misrepresents the issue. The question isn’t whether people are responsible for their rebellion—but whether, on Stratton’s own terms, God is guilty of deception by sending delusion at all.
To illustrate the problem: imagine Stratton has an unpleasant neighbor whom he despises. One day, Stratton builds a machine that causes his neighbor to hallucinate and believe lies. Even if the neighbor was already awful, most would say Stratton is guilty of malicious manipulation. According to Stratton’s own standard, knowing someone holds false beliefs and then contributing to their delusion—even judicially—is sufficient to charge one with deception.
So if God sends delusion, as 2 Thessalonians 2:11 plainly states, then under Stratton’s framework, God is deceiving people—even if they were already rebellious. He can’t escape the charge by saying “they could have done otherwise earlier.” That’s irrelevant. His argument is that God becomes a deceiver when He contributes to someone’s false belief. And these verses explicitly say God does just that.
More importantly, the texts Stratton references do not actually support his Molinist framework. They state that God gives people over in order that they believe what is false (2 Thess. 2:11), or that He hardens their hearts so that they will not turn and be saved (John 12:39–40; Isaiah 6:10). These are not mere passive responses to free choices. The language implies intentional divine agency aimed at ensuring a specific outcome.
If Stratton wants to maintain that these people “could have done otherwise,” he must explain why God bothers sending delusion at all. If their false beliefs were already sufficient for judgment, why intervene further? The answer is that God’s action is not merely reactive—it’s part of a sovereign judicial act, perfectly in line with the Calvinist model. Stratton’s framework, which emphasizes libertarian freedom and God’s non-involvement in false beliefs, cannot make sense of these verses.
Ultimately, Stratton’s own standard backfires. If knowing someone believes falsehood and doing nothing is deceptive, then knowingly sending further delusion is doubly so.
Part 6: Is Molinism Non-Causal Determinism?
Stratton insists that Molinism is a form of exhaustive divine predestination (EDP), not exhaustive divine determinism (EDD). He defines determinism as the thesis that, given antecedent conditions (like God’s decree), only one future is possible, and every choice is causally necessitated. He maintains that Molinism avoids this because God doesn’t provide necessitating conditions; He merely chooses a world in which libertarian agents will freely make particular choices.
But Dr. James Anderson argues that isn’t the case. Molinism still affirms that given God’s decree, there is only one actual future. Even if the choice was made freely in some sense, once God decrees to actualize that world, no other outcome is possible in this world. There are no feasible worlds in which the agent does otherwise while God decrees this actual world. Therefore, God’s decree renders the future fixed and infallible.
Anderson writes:
“On Molinism, given God’s decree in the past, only one future is possible: the future God decreed.”
Stratton tries to preserve the claim that agents in the actual world “could have done otherwise,” even after God decrees it. But this leads to a contradiction. Either:
- God’s decree is infallible (and agents cannot do otherwise in the actual world), or
- Agents can do otherwise in the actual world (and God’s decree is fallible).
Stratton wants both: that God infallibly decrees every detail of the actual world, and that agents retain categorical freedom to act otherwise within it. But this is incoherent. It implies that God can infallibly decree something that may not happen.
Thus, Stratton faces a dilemma:
If he affirms categorical freedom to do otherwise in the actual world, then God’s decree is fallible and his omnipotence denied, and God is not sovereign in the Molinist sense.
If he affirms God’s infallible decree, then agents cannot do otherwise in the actual world. The outcome is fixed by divine decision (post creation because providence), and Molinism collapses into determinism.
Molinists argue that God actualizes a world in which people freely make choices, based on His knowledge of what they would do in any given situation. The hope is to preserve human freedom while maintaining that God brings about all events in history.
But once God decides to actualize a particular world, everything that happens in that world becomes fixed. God knows every future action infallibly. His knowledge cannot be mistaken or changed. If God knows you will make a certain choice, then you cannot do otherwise—because otherwise, God’s knowledge would be wrong, which is impossible.
This creates a serious problem. Libertarian free will requires that a person could have done otherwise. But once God knows what you will do, and that knowledge is fixed, you can no longer do otherwise. Your actions are now necessary, not free in the libertarian sense.
So even if Molinism tries to preserve freedom before the actual world is selected, once that world is chosen, the freedom is gone. In the world God decides to actualize, all choices become unchangeable facts. That means Molinism fails to preserve genuine freedom where it matters—in the actual world.
Tim Stratton wants to affirm two claims:
- God infallibly knows what every creature will do in the actual world (post-decree).
- Creatures could have done otherwise in the actual world (libertarian freedom).
But these two claims are logically incompatible because they assign contradictory modal statuses to the same events.
The Argument:
P1. If God infallibly knows that S will do A in the actual world, then it is not possible that S does otherwise in the actual world.
P2. God infallibly knows what every creature will do in the actual world (post-decree).
C1. ∴ It is not possible that any creature does otherwise in the actual world.
P3. Libertarian freedom requires that an agent be able to do otherwise in the actual world.
C2. ∴ Creatures in the actual world are not libertarianly free.
C3. ∴ Molinism fails to preserve libertarian freedom in the actual world once God decrees it.
Stratton denies C2, affirming libertarian freedom in the actual world, while also affirming P2—infallible divine knowledge post-decree. But C1 follows necessarily from P1 and P2, and it directly contradicts P3, creating a modal contradiction.
To evade this, some Molinists retreat to the soft fact defense: “God’s knowledge of future free choices is soft—it’s contingent on what agents would do.” But this only applies pre-decree. Once God decrees to actualize a world, His knowledge becomes fixed and immutable.
Hard vs. Soft Facts
- Hard facts: Absolutely fixed truths (e.g., “God decreed W,” “Caesar was assassinated in 44 BC”). These cannot be otherwise without contradiction.
- Soft facts: Contingent truths dependent on other contingent facts (e.g., “S will freely do A”), but only before the decree.
After the decree, all “soft facts” regarding future creaturely actions become embedded into the actual world’s timeline. God’s infallible knowledge now includes them as part of the fabric of reality. These facts are no longer soft—they are hard, fixed, and cannot be otherwise unless God’s knowledge could be wrong.
Hence:
P4. God’s knowledge is infallible and unchangeable—it cannot be incorrect or revised.
P5. Once God decrees to actualize a world (W), His knowledge includes all future facts of W.
P6. If God’s post-decree knowledge cannot be different, then the future facts of W cannot be different either.
P7. Stratton’s libertarian freedom model requires that future creaturely acts in W could have been otherwise, even post-decree.
C4. ∴ Stratton’s model entails that the future facts are both fixed (infallibly known) and not fixed (could be otherwise).
C5. ∴ Molinism under Stratton’s model collapses into contradiction post-decree.
This contradiction shows that Molinism, as Stratton defends it, cannot uphold libertarian freedom once God has decreed the world. Either the facts are fixed (and freedom is lost), or they’re not fixed (and God’s knowledge is fallible). One must go.
Continuing Watching Dr. Anderson and Dr. Stratton
Tim, your appeal to possible worlds and maximally consistent states of affairs actually reinforces the core problem James Anderson and Ron have been pointing out.
You say:
“There is no possible world in which an omniscient God does not know how people would and will freely choose in a libertarian sense… God’s knowledge is necessary, but the truths He knows about creaturely choices remain contingent.”
But this sidesteps the key issue. We are not denying that creaturely choices are logically contingent in the abstract—we’re saying that once God decrees to actualize a particular world, those choices become metaphysically fixed in that actualized world.
You write:
“God knows–prior to His creative decree–which free choices will and won’t be made by libertarian agents.”
Exactly. Once God decrees to actualize a particular world, He brings about a reality in which there is only one actual outcome for each choice. Therefore, in that world, the outcome is infallibly fixed by God’s decree.
You call it a category error to go from “God knows” to “God determines.” But we’re not arguing from knowledge to determination—we’re arguing that God’s decree to actualize a world includes the foreseen choices, and that decree renders them infallibly certain. This is why Anderson said this is about providence, not just knowledge.
In other words, foreordination + actualization = infallible outcome. Once God chooses a world to actualize, He locks in every detail of that world, including the so-called “libertarian” choices. The agents cannot do otherwise in the actual world once it is decreed.
So if you grant that God foreordains the world via middle knowledge, and that what He foreordains infallibly happens, then:
- Creaturely actions are no longer metaphysically contingent in the actual world.
- There is no real difference (in outcome or infallibility) between Molinism and Calvinism at the level of providence.
Thus, your model of foreordination entails exhaustive divine determinism functionally, even if it avoids it semantically.
If you deny this, you must either:
- Deny God’s decree is infallible (thus collapsing Molinism into Open Theism), or
- Claim that agents can do otherwise after God decrees a world (which is logically incoherent).
The burden remains on you to show how God’s decree to actualize a world does not make its contents metaphysically fixed in that world.
Another Issue:
Stratton insists that Molinism provides a model of providence distinct from determinism—God foreordains everything by actualizing a world in which free creatures do what He knows they would do, without deterministically causing those choices.
This distinction is illusory. If God’s decree to actualize a particular world does not entail what occurs in that world, then it isn’t really a decree of providence at all. It’s just an observation. Providence, by definition, must govern and not merely observe what takes place in history.
To be more precise, if God’s decree does not entail the actualization of specific events, then Molinism is not a doctrine of foreordination—it’s a doctrine of prevision. But Stratton insists that Molinism is a model of exhaustive divine foreordination. So which is it? If God’s decree entails outcomes, then those outcomes are determined by His decree—undermining libertarian freedom. But if God’s middle knowledge doesn’t entail what actually happens, then God is not truly in control of those events. He does not govern history, decisions, or outcomes.
This brings us to Jimmy Stephens’s point: there’s no such thing as logical necessity without explanatory connection. If X logically necessitates Y, then X must explain Y in some sense. But in Stratton’s framework, the divine decree does not explain the actualization of specific human choices; instead, the decree merely follows or reflects the truths of counterfactuals of freedom (CCFs) that lie outside of God and are not grounded in Him. As Stephens notes, “If God’s decree is not explanatorily prior, the doctrine of creation is false.” In other words, God’s decree is supposed to be the source, the ground of what exists. But on Molinism, the decree is shaped by already-existent truths about what creatures would do—truths that are not grounded in God.
Furthermore, if God’s decree is not logically sufficient for the realization of events, then God is no longer omnipotent in any meaningful sense. Omnipotence means that when God wills something to occur, it occurs—He doesn’t merely permit or hope it will. But in Stratton’s Molinism, God’s will selects from feasible worlds, but the feasibility itself is constrained by creaturely counterfactuals He did not determine. So God’s will is subordinate to something beyond Himself—creaturely possibilities He cannot override.
Thus, we are left with a dilemma: either Molinism affirms that God’s decree entails the outcomes (in which case, it collapses into determinism), or it denies that His decree entails anything (in which case, it abandons providence). Either way, Stratton’s model fails to offer a coherent alternative to the Reformed doctrine of providence.
The Last Resort and the Fatal Concession
Stratton’s attempt to deflect the tu quoque challenge reaches its most revealing moment when he writes:
“Let’s have some fun and grant it for the sake of argument. Assume your (false) view is true and Molinism really is a kind of EDD. If that’s the case, then both Calvinism and Molinism collapse under the same epistemic weight.
And that’s exactly why your tu quoque move is fallacious—it just drags you down with me.
Are you ready to join me in abandoning incoherence and finding a better model—maybe even kicking the tires on nuanced views of Open Theism together?”
But this response unintentionally reveals the fundamental weakness of Stratton’s entire argument. For Stratton to claim the tu quoque is fallacious, he must assume that Molinism and Calvinism are not in the same epistemic boat. Yet if he grants they are—even for the sake of argument—then his own model shares the very defect he critiques. The argument no longer functions as a reductio of Calvinism, but becomes an indictment of any system affirming divine sovereignty and infallibility.
Worse still, his invitation to explore Open Theism only heightens the problem. Open Theism denies God’s infallible foreknowledge of future free acts and asserts that even God can be mistaken about what free creatures will do. But this leads to a far more disturbing implication: a God who can be deceived or who knowingly allows His creatures to remain deceived when He could inform them otherwise.
Such a concession undercuts Stratton’s moral reasoning. If it is wrong for God to allow false beliefs when He could prevent them, then Open Theism fares no better—and is actually much worse. After all, what could be more deceptive than a God who doesn’t know whether you are being deceived and may not correct you even if He does?
This shows that the argument does not depend on the specifics of determinism. Even granting that Molinism is not deterministic, Stratton’s argument still depends on a univocal moral framework for divine and human agency. And if that framework leads to the conclusion that any God who allows false beliefs is a deceiver, then all traditional models of providence—including Molinism—collapse.
The irony is stark: Stratton’s argument either condemns all models that affirm divine infallibility or collapses into theological relativism. He is left with a choice:
- Either accept that God’s moral agency is not univocal with man’s and abandon the Deity of Deception argument,
- Or adopt Open Theism and affirm a fallible God who cannot ensure or even fully know the truth.
In either case, the argument self-destructs. What began as a critique of Calvinism ends as a concession of defeat for Molinism and a retreat into a theologically impoverished alternative.
To further expose the internal weakness of Stratton’s response, we must press the implications of his concession. Stratton says that if the tu quoque succeeds, it merely means both Calvinism and Molinism fall, which should prompt abandonment of both in favor of something like Open Theism. But this only highlights that Stratton’s argument is not merely an internal critique of Calvinism—it is a global objection to any view in which God has infallible knowledge or control over false beliefs.
This renders his original argument less like a principled theological objection and more like selective skepticism directed at views he dislikes. The tu quoque is not fallacious if both systems indeed entail the same problem—it simply demonstrates that the objection fails to discriminate. The real issue becomes: can any theological system under divine sovereignty account for the reality of false beliefs without making God a deceiver? Stratton answers no, unless one adopts Open Theism.
But Open Theism only escapes the problem by denying divine infallibility—at the cost of undermining classical theism altogether. It proposes a God who is subject to time, epistemic limitations, and changing outcomes. This opens the door to an even more severe kind of skepticism: if God is not in control of truth, if He could be mistaken or unaware, then we have no reason to trust any theological claim—including Open Theism itself.
Stratton’s argument thus becomes self-defeating. It invites a collapse into uncertainty far worse than the supposed problem it tries to highlight in Calvinism. The Reformed view, by contrast, maintains that God ordains all things—including error—but does so in a way that upholds His righteousness and our accountability. Only by affirming that God is Lord over all facts, including false beliefs, can we have a stable foundation for epistemic trust and theological assurance.
Therefore, far from exposing a “deity of deception,” Calvinism provides the only coherent antidote to global theological skepticism—a God who determines all things, including error, for good and holy purposes, without Himself becoming evil. All other systems—especially Molinism and Open Theism—either fall into contradiction or surrender God’s sovereignty, and with it, the grounds for truth itself.
And if Stratton goes further and flirts with atheism as a “cleaner” escape from divine responsibility, he must then show how impersonal, aimless material processes do better at grounding truth and rational trust than a sovereign God. Good luck with that
The Council 