Becoming presupposes a cause, for there is no becoming without a cause. But being in an absolute
sense no longer permits the inquiry concerning a cause. Absolute being is because it is. The idea
of God itself implies immutability. Neither increase nor diminution is conceivable with respect to
God. He cannot change for better or worse, for he is the absolute, the complete, the true being.
Becoming is an attribute of creatures, a form of change in space and time. But God is who he is,
eternally transcendent over space and time and far exalted above every creature. He rests within
himself and is for that very reason the ultimate goal and resting place of all creatures, the Rock of
their salvation, whose work is complete. Those who predicate any change whatsoever of God,
whether with respect to his essence, knowledge, or will, diminish all his attributes: independence,
simplicity, eternity, omniscience, and omnipotence. This robs God of his divine nature, and
religion of its firm foundation and assured comfort.39
This immutability, however, should not be confused with monotonous sameness or rigid
immobility. Scripture itself leads us in describing God in the most manifold relations to all his
creatures. While immutable in himself, he nevertheless, as it were, lives the life of his creatures
and participates in all their changing states. Scripture necessarily speaks of God in
anthropomorphic language. Yet, however anthropomorphic its language, it at the same time
prohibits us from positing any change in God himself. There is change around, about, and outside
of him, and there is change in people’s relations to him, but there is no change in God himself. In
fact, God’s incomprehensible greatness and, by implication, the glory of the Christian confession
are precisely that God, though immutable in himself, can call mutable creatures into being.
Though eternal in himself, God can nevertheless enter into time and, though immeasurable in
himself, he can fill every cubic inch of space with his presence. In other words, though he himself
is absolute being, God can give to transient beings a distinct existence of their own. In God’s
eternity there exists not a moment of time; in his immensity there is not a speck of space; in his
being there is no sign of becoming. Conversely, it is God who posits the creature, eternity which
posits time, immensity which posits space, being which posits becoming, immutability which
posits change. There is nothing intermediate between these two classes of categories: a deep
chasm separates God’s being from that of all creatures. It is a mark of God’s greatness that he can
condescend to the level of his creatures and that, though transcendent, he can dwell immanently
in all created beings. Without losing himself, God can give himself, and, while absolutely
maintaining his immutability, he can enter into an infinite number of relations to his creatures.
Various examples have been employed to illustrate this truth. The sun itself does not change,
whether it scorches or warms, hurts or animates (Augustine). A coin remains a coin whether
called a price or a pledge (idem). A pillar remains unchanged whether a person sees it on her right
or on her left (Thomas). An artist does not change when he gives shape to his inner vision in words
or in tone, in voice or in color, nor does a scholar when he puts down his ideas in a book. None of
these comparisons is perfect, but they do suggest how a thing may change in its relations while
remaining the same in essence. This is especially true of God since he, the immutable One, is
himself the sole cause of all that changes. We should not picture God as putting himself in any
