PROVIDENCE

prov'-i-dens:

—New dictionary of Biblical Theology

The term ‘providence’ as it is commonly used in theology normally identifies a cluster of biblical themes, rather than translating a particular word. A precise linguistic basis can certainly be found. For example, W. Eichrodt refers to Job 10:12, which tells of the ‘divine superintendence or care by which creatures are preserved’ (*Theology of the Old Testament, vol. 2, p. 168); K. Barth derives a concept of providence from the story of the sacrifice of Isaac in Genesis 22:8, 14 (*Church Dogmatics, vol. 3.3, p. 3). Generally, however, the notion of providence encapsulates the conviction that God sustains the world that he has created and directs it to its appointed destiny. Belief in God’s providence evokes not only humility and wonder, but also gratitude and trust, for believers know God as Father and believe that ‘in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose’ (Rom. 8:28, niv).

The Natural Order

The providential sustenance of God is mentioned in many places, with the books of Job and Psalms providing a rich quarry of texts in the OT and Matthew 6:25–30 being a notable passage in the NT. The idea goes beyond that of a general power which preserves cosmic life and order; the power is exercised specifically (Matt. 10:29). The development of the natural sciences over the centuries has increased human understanding of the causes operative within nature, but this leaves the biblical idea of providence unaffected. The Bible is concerned not with the mechanics of divine sustaining and the causal ordering of nature but with the knowledge, power, will and manifest activity of God. God’s being and action is the basic reality which undergirds cosmos and history, and the biblical witness is interested in this fundamental fact rather than in its precise form and inner nature.

The notion of miracles (see Signs and wonders) is connected with that of providence, and this too has occasioned difficulty. The miracles narrated in Scripture are set in the context not only of the conviction that God rules over nature, but also of the overarching story of Israel and the church, Jesus and the world. Miracles are variously defined as events which go against 1. the laws of nature, or 2. its laws as they are presently known, or 3. observed regularities (on the supposition that there are no strict laws). But biblical reports are descriptive rather than conceptual. Divine miraculous power is an expression of the power of the one God who exercises providential sway. What are often called ‘miracles’ (regardless of the terms used in the various biblical accounts) can apparently be related in different ways to the providential order. Sometimes they involve its breach or suspension, as in the feeding of the five thousand or Jesus’ walking on the water. But sometimes reference is made to ‘coincidence miracles’ which are extraordinary combinations of events, for each of which there is a straightforward natural explanation, but which are combined by God-given foresight and furnish an occasion for divine revelation. The accounts of the catches of fish in Luke 5:4–7 and John 21:6–11 should surely be understood in these terms. However, the fact that the relation of different elements (natural, extraordinary and supernatural) may sometimes be unclear (as, e.g., with the wind of Exod. 14:21 in the narrative of the crossing of the Red Sea) underlines the point that Scripture is relatively uninterested in secondary causes. Miracles are one form of providential ordering, integrating divine mastery over nature with divine purposes for the peoples. Theology’s quarrel with sceptical philosophy and naturalistic science has to do ultimately with the nature and power of God.

The connection between the providential order and human history, the fact that ‘the sustaining of the world … is also related to His purposes for the future’ (G. C. Berkouwer, The Providence of God, p. 83), has been noted in the history of theology by reference to the ‘governmental’ aspect of divine providence. This governmental aspect, which highlights the power of God, was one of the three most important lessons about God learned by Israel during the nation’s history. The other two were the character of God and the nature of his purposes. These are both central to biblical teaching about providence.

The Character of God

God’s character is memorably set forth in Exodus 34:6–7: ‘The Lord, the Lord, the compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness, maintaining love to thousands, and forgiving wickedness, rebellion and sin. Yet he does not leave the guilty unpunished …’ The subsequent narrative bears out this self-description in the story of Israel’s disobedience, culminating in the exile of the southern kingdom of Judah, and it is reaffirmed by the prophets (*e.g. Jonah 4:2). It by no means precludes the ascription to God of judgment holiness, implied in the reference to punishment, and about which OT and NT alike are emphatic. But it does assure believers of the gracious source and heart of the providential order, and Jesus specifically connected his teaching on divine fatherhood with the injunction to rest in God’s providential care (Matt. 6:25–34). God’s purposes in history are revealed partially and progressively in the OT and come to focus, especially in the prophetic writings, on the deliverance of Israel, not just for its own sake, but also for the sake of the world and supremely for the glory of God himself. The story describes the unfolding of the promise given to Abraham that the nations should be blessed through him (Gen. 12:2–3). In the NT, the promise is focused on Jesus Christ, through whom God’s purposes for Israel, church and cosmos are executed, to the praise of God’s glory. This is the unfolding of a design traceable back to creation itself (Col. 1:16; Eph. 1:10). Though the tragedy of perdition remains as a consequence of sin, the climax of grace in the new heavens and new earth publicly vindicates the character of a God often concealed below the surface of the providential order. (See also Righteousness, justice and justification.)

Personal Purposes

The general question of the relationship of the divine character to the nature of divine purposes for individuals set within the providential order is posed, directly or indirectly, with special sharpness in the Israelite wisdom tradition. We shall look briefly at the way in which the question is handled in Job and Ecclesiastes. (See also Wisdom books.)
Some theological and structural elements of the book of Job are unclear, notably the function of the Elihu cycle of speeches in chapters 32–37, but its overall structure has two intriguing features. The first is that the background and theological rationale of Job’s suffering are decisively set out in the opening two chapters of the book, with the account of God’s granting Satan permission to test Job. But when God himself intervenes, late in the book, to respond to Job, that background and rationale are not disclosed to him. The reader’s key for understanding the providential order, as far as it can be understood at all, is concealed from the participants in the drama. Secondly, the positive content of God’s response seems initially puzzling for it does not seem to go beyond some of what Job’s friends, or Job himself, have already said, and it falls short of the kind or fullness of explanation the reader may have expected. There is no reference to divine purpose; rather, there is reference to divine reality. The order in which Job is placed, and the suffering that occurs within it, are incomprehensible to him. But Job’s moving confession after God has spoken (42:5–6) invites the reader to suppose that the purpose of meditation on the providential order is to instil in people a sense of God, not to provide reasons for every event. To find personal meaning is not primarily to discover patterns; instead, God wants to teach us humility before him. The book of Job is full of references to the providential order of the world (chs. 28–41). God’s character is trustworthy though not yet luminous, his purposes largely hidden. The only NT reference to Job is in the book of James, where he is commended for his perseverance (Jas. 5:11). This text should not, of course, be taken to suggest that the restoration of worldly goods is always part of the providential order, and in the book of Job itself Job’s acknowledgment of God precedes and takes place in ignorance of the restoration of his worldly prosperity.

Ecclesiastes was thought by the reformer Melanchthon to be basically a book about providence, and has also been adjuged to portray a God ‘souverain à l’extrême’ (Gorssen, quoted in R. E. Murphy, Ecclesiastes, WBC [Dallas, 1992], p. lxviii). Be this as it may, if God’s speech is enigmatic in the book of Job, it is absent in the book of Ecclesiastes. The bulk of the book is a commentary on the words which enclose its body, and which appear frequently in the text: ‘Meaningless! Meaningless! Everything is meaningless.’ The author does not start where Job, or at least his friends, appear to start, with the assumption that in principle the order of life should be comprehensible, its meaning and purpose, causes and effects susceptible to rational and systematic explanation. Ecclesiastes, written on the basis of a lifetime’s search for and exploration of wisdom, from the beginning entertains no such illusions. The meaninglessness of life is conclusive; the search for meaning and purpose, by scrutinizing immanent processes, yields nothing but futility (see Vanity). So the contentment that is advocated – satisfaction in the intrinsic and immediate reward of labour, in food, drink, possessions and companions – seems to be based on the denial of cosmic meaning. It is tempting to conclude that this constitutes a denial of any providential order. But that judgment is contradicted at the end of the book. The author apparently is not so much aiming to promote a coherent and acceptable perspective on life as gathering a number of aphoristic and other remarks within a literary framework (Eccles. 12:9–12). In the injunction to ‘fear God and keep his commandments for this is the whole duty of man. For God will bring every deed into judgment, including every hidden thing, whether it is good or evil’ (12:13–14), the author indicates that in religious perspective, it is the moral that gives meaning to life. Meaning and purpose are not immanent in life’s processes. They are given transcendently in relation to God, who is the creator and judge of every individual.

The Problem of Divine Government

The question of God’s government over history raises a number of vexing questions. Is the world genuinely open to more than one possibility, or is its future precisely determined Is providence to be regarded as a determining power It is within this context that the question of the relationship of God’s activity to human agency and the problem of providence and evil arise most sharply in the biblical account. Demanding exegetical, hermeneutical and philosophical issues arise in connection with these questions. We must confine ourselves to a broad description of the biblical parameters within which theology should operate.
The OT narrative, from the account of Abraham’s calling to the return from exile, certainly on the face of it encourages the belief that history is genuinely open, according to whether people obey or disobey God. For example, when Moses (Deut. 30:15–18) and Joshua (Josh. 24:14–24) set alternatives before the people, they appear to be free to follow alternative courses of action; history is presented as a theatre of genuinely alternative possibilities. In the very passage where Jeremiah likens God to the potter moulding the clay of Israel, he affirms that the execution of divine judgment or blessing is contingent on the disobedience or obedience of the people (Jer. 18:1–12). Divine declarations of what is to be often contain a tacit or an explicit condition, as in the account of the perpetuation of the Davidic kingdom through Solomon (*e.g. 1 Chr. 28:6–7). Further, God seems to change his mind in response to petition (*e.g. 2 Kgs. 20) and to acknowledge alternative futures (1 Sam. 23:9–13).

However, this must all be integrated into a wider picture.

First, human actions do not take place independently of God even when those actions are wicked. This fact emerges early in the Bible, both in the story of Joseph in Genesis 37–45 and in the accounts of the hardening of Pharoah’s heart (Exod. 7–11). While the ways in which God is active may vary according to the evil or good in the human heart, biblical language signifies at the very least an active concurrence of divine and human action, not complete human autonomy. Yet while evildoers are responsible for their deeds, believers depend on God for their obedient actions (Phil. 2:13).

Second, God knows in advance what humans will do. As soon and as certainly as the fact of choice is established at a crucial juncture in Israel’s history, so is the divine knowledge of what that choice will be (Deut. 31:16–18). The reduction or limitation of this principle cannot be justified on purely biblical grounds. (Philosophical arguments are beyond our scope here.) The prophetic literature, such as that of Isaiah, not only appears to suppose that divine foreknowledge is involved in the very logic of prophecy, but also exults in a God whose power is expressed in such foreknowledge (*e.g. Is. 40ff.). In contrast to this, it is sometimes argued that statements in which God expresses ignorance, disappointment, regret or hope more or less strongly imply that some human actions are not foreknown by God and are even judged by him to be unlikely. The issue here is hermeneutical. Not only is it appropriate to read the biblical narrative in light of the progressive self-disclosure of God, but where such self-disclosure takes place, as in the high points of prophecy and apocalyptic in Isaiah and Daniel, the comprehensive scope of God’s knowledge becomes increasingly clear. The account of Jesus’ mission in the NT, in its eschatological context, militates against a view of God as one who takes risks with an unknown and unknowable future (*contra J. Sanders, The God Who Risks).

Thirdly, the future is sometimes described as not just known to God but decreed by him. Certainly the Bible does not describe this decree in a monochrome way, as something which is always immutably antecedent to and independent of what humans decide to do. Nevertheless, the active responsibility for bringing history to its destiny lies with God and God’s active decisions about what will or will not be. This raises the question of predestination, which is best approached in connection with the wider question of the providential government of world history.

The history of theology is littered with attempts to harmonize these and other biblical data, and even the very broad description of God’s government set out above will be judged by some to be misleading and tendentious. But a comprehensive resolution is not necessary. Biblical theology is thoroughly practical; it emphasizes the application of its various truths to life more than their systematic relation to each other. The Christian’s practice of adoration, trust, obedience, repentance, faith and perseverance does not depend on an understanding of how different theological ideas are to be woven together. Further, despite the perplexities involved, the dominant impression imparted by Scripture is that of a rich, if systematically elusive, coherence, not of a dismaying problem. God understands everything that is happening and directs history to its destiny with literally matchless power. The appearance of his actions varies according to their purpose and the relationships involved; he decides to act before he sees or when he sees or whatever he sees or according to what he sees, and in this respect is portrayed as the living and personal God that he is. But he is not caught out in ignorance or error, or prevented by human action from carrying out what he has determined, or manipulated by human entreaty into doing the unwise, the unjust or the unholy, and in this respect he is portrayed as the good and powerful God that he is.

Many passages illuminate divine providence. For example, the insight of Proverbs that ‘In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps’ (16:9) suggests that at the level of intention humans bear some responsibility, but whether or not intention comes to fruition is the decision of the Lord. It offers a way of discerning how evil acts are encompassed by an active providence and yet humans are accountable for them. Evil is radically mysterious, in the biblical account, right from its anomalous appearance in Eden. Where God’s commands are flouted, the evil belongs to humans or to Satan. Scripture does not so much explain evil as assure readers that evil is intrusive in God’s world and will finally be defeated. If, however, it is a matter of divine decision whether or not an evil deed is done, but the evil disposition is the responsibility of humans, then the divine decision is to enable the evil intention formed in the heart to be actively expressed. The freedom to will and the freedom to act are not the same thing (and freedom itself is not a transparent or undifferentiated notion). A person is rendered morally responsible not by a deed alone, but by its relation to the preceding nexus of will and intent. God is ultimately responsible in that evil occurs in a world over which he has power, although his disposal of it is in salient respects mysterious.

While faith seeks understanding, it does not live by understanding the providential ways of God. The confidence of the believer is born of the conviction that God is utterly trustworthy in character and promise, and this generates deep humility. Christians’ relationship to providence becomes clearer when we consider prayer. According to the Lord’s Prayer (Matt. 6:9–13) God knows what we need before we ask him; he is our Father; we depend on him for our bread; we ask forgiveness when we fail; we petition him for the will and strength to do what he wants us to do and avoid what he wants us to avoid. In turn, the humility of the believer can issue in further confidence on the basis of the relationship of providence to world history as described in the last book of the Bible, Revelation. It is decided by God that the rebellion of kings and of beasts against his rule shall terminate; that the nations will be beneficiaries of healing justice and mercy; that the decisive proof of his providence shall be the reappearance of Jesus Christ and the transformation of the world order. That God has determined all this does not eliminate the problems and tragedies from the story; it may even intensify them. But it means that providence ultimately finds its appropriate response in praise.

Alexander, T. D. (2001). New dictionary of biblical theology (electronic ed.). Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press.