The modern church has a new test for love. If you cannot be destabilized, you do not care. If you cannot be emotionally hijacked, you are cold. If your inner weather does not rise and fall with the people around you, you are a monster.
Then they take that test and hang it on the Almighty.
That is the quiet heresy running through a century of Western theology. Jürgen Moltmann’s “crucified God,” Open Theism, and the soft therapeutic evangelicalism that talks as if God’s heart is a mood ring have all sold the same product. They want a deity who weeps on cue, suffers with the age, and gets wounded by history. They call it compassion. It is an attempt to put the Creator on a couch.
A Reformed Arsenal essay on divine impassibility puts the knife in the right place. A god who can be altered by his creatures is a god held hostage by his world. If grief can surge through Him without His consent, if a tragedy can change His inner state, if human rebellion can force Him from joy into sorrow, then He is not the Rock. He is just a larger version of us.
Passion Does Not Mean What Your Worship Leader Thinks
In the language of the old dogmatics, “passion” is not romance. It comes from the Latin for suffering, for being acted upon. A passion is an involuntary change caused from the outside. You see a wreck. Grief hits you. You did not choose the new weather in your chest. Something external moved you from one state to another.
That is exactly what the Westminster Confession denies of God. He is “without body, parts, or passions.” Not because He is ice. Because He cannot be the passive object of the universe He made.
Impassibility is not a lonely extra doctrine. It follows from what God already is. If He is simple, He has no unused corners waiting to be filled by creaturely events. If He is a se, He does not borrow His blessedness from our obedience or our collapse. If He is pure act, He does not lurch from potential to actuality every time the news cycle turns. A God who “starts grieving” has just admitted He was incomplete a moment ago.
Herman Bavinck saw the pastoral cost. Predicate change of God’s essence, knowledge, or will and you shrink every other attribute with it. Independence, simplicity, eternity, omniscience, omnipotence. You do not get a warmer Father. You get a smaller one. And religion loses the one thing suffering people actually need, a foundation that does not move when they do.
The Bible Is Not Giving God a Personality Profile
The usual proof texts get waved like a gotcha. Genesis 6, the Lord regretted that He made man. Hosea 11, His heart recoils, His compassion grows warm. Fine. Those verses are in the Book. So are the verses that refuse to let you read them like a diary.
God is not a man that He should lie or repent. The Glory of Israel will not lie or have regret. “I the Lord do not change; therefore ye sons of Jacob are not consumed.” James says every good gift comes from the Father of lights, “with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning.”
Scripture uses human body language for God. Hands. Eyes. Wings. Nobody with a functioning mind thinks the Father grew feathers. It also uses human feeling language. That is anthropopathism, not a press conference from heaven’s therapist. When Genesis says God regretted making man, it is not reporting that the eternal mind just discovered a design flaw. It is putting holy justice against human filth into words a creature can bear.
Bavinck’s picture still works. A ship turns from north to south. The same wind that once filled the sails now slams the bow. The wind did not change. The ship did. When a people apostatize, they meet the same holy God as wrath instead of blessing. The motion is in the creature. Not in the Creator.
That is also why wrath is not an Old Testament mood swing that Jesus later outgrew. As Harbinger’s Daily has insisted, the Lord who does not change is both mercy and judgment. Soft pastors who keep only the gentle half are not being kind. They are editing God.
He only is my rock and my salvation. He is my defence. I shall not be moved.
The Cross Did Not Put a Crack in the Trinity
The loudest objection is Calvary. If the Son suffered, they say, then God suffered. Moltmann made a career of that move after Auschwitz. Only a suffering God can help. It sounds brave. It is sloppy Christology dressed up as pastoral courage.
The church already fought this. Patripassianism said the Father Himself hung on the wood. Theopaschitism said the divine nature took the nails. Chalcedon answered both. One Person. Two natures. Unconfused. The Son of God suffered as man, in the flesh He assumed. Cyril of Alexandria said it without flinching. He suffered impassibly. The subject is the Son. The nature that can bleed is the human nature. The divine essence is not diminished, wounded, or rewritten by Friday afternoon.
That does not shrink the cross. It gives the cross its weight. An infinite Person offering a true human life and a true human death is not less mercy than a God who got His feelings hurt. It is more. The divine nature did not collapse into the pain. It upheld the suffering and made it of infinite worth. If the Godhead itself can be traumatized, you do not have an atonement. You have a crisis inside eternity.
Popular preaching loves the line that “our God is a suffering God.” Sometimes it is only a clumsy way of saying Christ was a man of sorrows. Sometimes it is Moltmann with a worship set. The first is gospel. The second is a renovation project on the being of God.
You Do Not Need a Drowning Lifeguard
Here is the pastoral lie at the bottom of the passible-God fashion. People in the torrent think they need a rescuer who is as wet and panicked as they are. They do not. They need a man on the granite, feet planted, not being swept by the same current that is killing them.
A God whose love can be extinguished by your failure is not a refuge. He is a weather report. A God whose peace depends on the week you just had cannot hold you when the week gets worse. A God whose promises are reactionary feelings can take them back when He “changes His mind.” That is why Jack Hibbs keeps pointing people to the unchanging promise as an anchor. The harbor floor does not heave because the deck does.
Divine affections in the old sense are not mood swings. God is love. He does not slip into it when we behave. His mercy and His wrath are the outward effects of one holy will, not inner bruises He received from us. That is better news than a deity who needs our pain to feel authentic.
The age that measures love by emotional damage will keep calling this cold. Let them. A God who can be managed by our anguish is a god we can eventually ignore. The God who cannot be wounded is the only One strong enough to pull a drowning world out of the water without going under Himself.
I get the point that pastors are trying to make when they describe God as suffering and wounded, and I agree with them - to an extent. Jesus is God, and while among us, expressed frustration, hurt, and sorrow for our condition and rebellion. In Genesis, God spoke as if He were sorry He even made man. From everything else we know about Him, He didn't admit to a mistake or wish He hadn't made us, but scripture often seems to express it that way. So if explained correctly, I don't think that changes God's nature, and I don't believe that is the motive behind their half-true teachings. However, J.D. has a solid point here, and making God (on purpose or not) into little more than a bigger version of us is heretical. We need to be clear that He doesn't react, but act. God doesn't respond or change His opinion. He's not pacing and wringing His hands waiting to see what we will do so He knows which way to go. If He did, He wouldn't be God.
The article’s legitimate concern is that God is not emotionally manipulated, surprised, diminished, or involuntarily changed by His creatures. But its title commits an equivocation:
To be wounded is not necessarily to be overcome or destabilized. One may freely choose to receive a wound.
That distinction is the Cross.
The article protects the impassibility of the divine nature by nearly separating it from the divine Person who became flesh. Its most serious historical error is this claim:
“Theopaschitism said the divine nature took the nails. Chalcedon answered both.”
That is not an adequate account of the controversy. The orthodox theopaschite formula was:
One of the Holy Trinity suffered in the flesh.
The Second Council of Constantinople anathematized anyone who would not confess that the one crucified in the flesh is true God, the Lord of glory, and one of the Trinity.
Chalcedon did not place the suffering man alongside an untouched divine person. It confessed one and the same Son, existing in two natures without confusion, change, division, or separation.
Cyril’s precision matters:
The divine nature was not pierced as though incorporeal deity possessed skin.
Nevertheless, the flesh that was pierced belonged to the Word.
Therefore, the Word truly suffered in His own flesh.
Cyril explicitly says both that the divine nature is incapable of bodily suffering and that the Word is rightly said to have suffered because the suffering body was His own.
So the Christian confession is not:
A merely human component of Jesus was wounded while God remained elsewhere.
It is:
God the Son was wounded in the flesh He made His own.
That makes the title “A God Who Can Be Wounded Is Not God” dangerously imprecise. Scripture deliberately predicates the Cross of a divine person:
They crucified the Lord of glory (1 Corinthians 2:8).
God purchased the church with His own blood (Acts 20:28).
Yahweh says, “They shall look upon Me whom they have pierced” (Zechariah 12:10).
Thomas is invited to touch the wounds of the risen Lord (John 20:25–29).
John sees the victorious Lamb standing as slain (Revelation 5:6).
The wounds were not discarded when death was defeated. The risen Christ retained them. God chose to be recognized by them.
The lifeguard analogy fails
The article says we do not need a drowning lifeguard. True—but neither do we need a lifeguard who remains on the granite explaining that entering the water would compromise his stability.
Christ entered the torrent.
He was not swept into it involuntarily:
“No man taketh it from me, but I lay it down of myself” (John 10:18).
He entered death willingly, exhausted its power, and came out carrying those whom it held. His ability to suffer voluntarily does not demonstrate weakness. His freedom to lay down His life and take it again demonstrates sovereign power.
The relevant contrast is not:
suffering God versus powerful God.
It is:
suffering imposed from outside versus suffering freely embraced in love.
No creature forced grief, suffering, or death upon God. God chose incarnation. God chose vulnerability. God chose the Cross. The wound therefore reveals His unchanging character rather than altering it.
Where the article loses the Father
The deeper problem is that it treats the Cross principally as a transaction involving Christ’s human nature rather than as the revelation of God’s character.
Jesus says:
“He that hath seen me hath seen the Father” (John 14:9).
The Father was not crucified; the persons must not be confused. But neither was the Father an impassive observer whose true character remained hidden behind the suffering humanity of Jesus.
God was in Christ reconciling the world to Himself. The Son’s willing suffering reveals the Father because the Son does what He sees the Father doing. The Cross displays that God is both Holy and Love.
If we say that Christ’s compassion, grief, suffering, and wounds reveal only His humanity while immutability and impassibility reveal His deity, we have quietly divided the revelation:
Jesus shows us what man is like.
Greek metaphysics tells us what God is like.
That reverses the Gospel. Christ tells us what God is like.
The necessary distinction
A careful doctrine should say:
God cannot be involuntarily destabilized, diminished, manipulated, or overcome by His creatures. Nevertheless, God the Son freely assumed flesh capable of suffering, truly suffered and was wounded in that flesh, died, rose, and retains those wounds as the everlasting testimony of God’s holy love.
The Cross did not put a crack in the Trinity.
It revealed what had always been in God.
The wounds are not damage to the divine nature. Neither are they an embarrassment to be quarantined within “the human part” of Christ. They are the chosen testimony of the one divine Person who said:
“Reach hither thy finger, and behold my hands.”
A God who can be wounded against His will would not be sovereign.
But a God who cannot freely give Himself cannot be the God revealed in Christ.