Oliver Crisp’s Model of the Incarnation: Understanding How Christ Can Be Both God and Man

One of Christianity’s most profound mysteries is how Jesus Christ can be both fully God and fully human at the same time. This report explores Oliver Crisp’s groundbreaking work on this topic from his book “Divinity and Humanity: The Incarnation Reconsidered” published by Cambridge University Press in 2007. We’ll examine how Crisp defends traditional Christian teaching while addressing modern philosophical challenges, compare his views with other scholars, and explore why this matters for understanding human nature and salvation.

Part 1: Introduction to Oliver Crisp and His Theological Project

Oliver Crisp serves as Professor of Analytic Theology at the University of St. Andrews in Scotland. He represents a new generation of theologians who use the tools of modern philosophy to explore ancient Christian truths. His approach, called analytic theology, seeks to bring clarity and precision to theological discussions that can sometimes be unclear or confusing.

In his book “Divinity and Humanity: The Incarnation Reconsidered,” Crisp tackles one of Christianity’s central claims: that Jesus Christ is one person with two complete natures—divine and human. This doctrine, established at the Council of Chalcedon in 451 AD, has faced numerous challenges throughout history. Today, modern philosophy and science raise new questions about how this teaching can make sense.

Crisp’s main goal is straightforward but ambitious. He wants to show that the traditional Christian understanding of Jesus as both God and man is not only defensible but actually makes good philosophical sense. He does this by carefully examining the logic behind the incarnation and addressing the main objections that modern thinkers have raised.

The book is organized into six chapters, each addressing a specific challenge to orthodox Christology. The first three chapters explore foundational concepts like how Christ’s two natures relate to each other, what it means for Christ to have a complete human nature, and how we should understand technical theological terms. The final three chapters defend traditional teaching against modern alternatives that try to modify or replace classical Christian doctrine.

Part 2: Understanding Christ’s Divine Nature in Crisp’s Model

What Does It Mean for Christ to Be Fully God?

When Christians say that Jesus Christ is fully God, they mean that he possesses all the attributes or characteristics that make God who he is. According to Crisp, these divine attributes include omniscience (knowing everything), omnipotence (being all-powerful), and omnipresence (being present everywhere). These are not optional features that God can set aside—they are essential to what it means to be God.

This creates an immediate puzzle. If Jesus is omniscient, how could he say he didn’t know when he would return, as recorded in Matthew 24:36? If he’s omnipresent, how could he be limited to one location in Palestine during his earthly ministry? If he’s omnipotent, why did he experience weakness, hunger, and fatigue?

Many modern theologians have tried to solve this puzzle through what’s called kenotic theology—from the Greek word kenosis, meaning “emptying.” They suggest that when the Son of God became human, he temporarily gave up or set aside certain divine attributes. Perhaps he stopped being omniscient so he could genuinely experience human limitations.

Crisp’s Innovative Solution: Divine Krypsis

Crisp rejects kenotic theories for a simple but powerful reason: if God stops having divine attributes, then God stops being God. You can’t have a God who isn’t omniscient any more than you can have a triangle that doesn’t have three sides. The attributes are essential to the nature.

Instead, Crisp proposes what he calls divine krypsis or a “kryptic Christology” (Chapter 5: “Divine Kenosis”). The word krypsis comes from the Greek word meaning “hidden.” According to this theory, Christ retained all his divine attributes during the incarnation but exercised them in a hidden or veiled way.

“The Logos held to his divine attributes and also exercised them, but he did not ‘show off’ them.” – Oliver Crisp

Think of it this way: imagine a brilliant mathematician who becomes an elementary school teacher. While teaching basic addition to first-graders, she doesn’t lose her ability to solve complex calculus problems. She still possesses all her mathematical knowledge and abilities, but she chooses to operate in a way that’s appropriate for her current role. Similarly, the divine Son didn’t lose his divine powers when he became human—he exercised them in a hidden manner appropriate to his incarnate state.

This means that even while Jesus was sleeping in the boat during the storm, his divine nature was still sustaining the universe. While his human mind didn’t know certain things, his divine nature remained omniscient. The divine attributes were always present and active, just not obviously displayed in his human life.

The Extra Calvinisticum

Crisp’s model incorporates an important doctrine known as the extra Calvinisticum, which teaches that the eternal Son of God wasn’t entirely contained within the human Jesus. Even during the incarnation, the Son continued to fill and sustain the universe.

This might seem strange at first, but it makes sense when we remember that God is infinite and can’t be limited to one physical location. The divine Son took on human nature without ceasing to be everywhere present in his divine nature. As one theologian put it, while baby Jesus was lying in the manger, the eternal Son was still holding the universe together.

This teaching helps explain how God could continue running the universe while also genuinely experiencing human life. The divine person operates through both natures simultaneously—sustaining galaxies through his divine nature while learning to walk through his human nature.

Part 3: Understanding Christ’s Human Nature in Crisp’s Model

What Does It Mean for Christ to Be Fully Human?

For Christ to be our savior, Christian theology insists he must be fully human—not just appearing to be human or partially human, but completely and genuinely human in every essential way. But what exactly makes someone human? This question is crucial for understanding the incarnation.

Crisp advocates for what he calls a three-part Christology (Chapter 3: “The anhypostasia-enhypostasia distinction”). This model identifies three components in the incarnate Christ:

1. The Logos (the eternal Son of God) – This is the divine person who exists from eternity
2. A human body – A real, physical body like ours, subject to growth, pain, and death
3. A rational human soul – The immaterial aspect of human nature that enables consciousness, emotion, and reasoning

This three-part structure is important because it ensures Christ has everything necessary for complete humanity. Early church heresies often failed by leaving out one component. Apollinarianism, for example, taught that Christ had a human body but the divine Logos replaced the human soul. This would mean Christ wasn’t truly human since he lacked an essential human component.

The Challenge of Human Limitations

One of the most difficult aspects of the incarnation to understand is how the infinite God could experience genuine human limitations. The Gospels clearly show Jesus experiencing hunger, thirst, fatigue, and even lack of knowledge about certain things. How can this be reconciled with his divine nature?

Crisp’s answer involves distinguishing between what Christ experiences in his divine nature versus his human nature. In Chapter 2, “The human nature of Christ,” Crisp argues that Christ has two distinct centers of consciousness or awareness—divine and human. Through his human consciousness, Jesus genuinely experiences human limitations. He truly doesn’t know certain things in his human mind, genuinely feels physical pain, and authentically experiences emotional responses like grief and joy.

This doesn’t contradict his divinity because these limitations are experienced specifically through his human nature. His divine nature remains unchanged and unlimited. It’s like an ambidextrous person who can write with both hands—if they choose to write with only their left hand, they haven’t lost the ability to write with their right hand. They’re simply operating through one capacity rather than the other.

The Question of Christ’s Sinlessness

A particularly challenging question Crisp addresses is whether Christ could have sinned. This might seem like a strange question—Christians believe Jesus never sinned—but could he have chosen to sin if he wanted to? This question matters because it affects how we understand his temptations and his role as our example.

Some theologians argue that for Christ’s temptations to be real, he must have been able to sin. Otherwise, his resistance to temptation would be meaningless—like praising someone for not flying when they lack wings. This view is called the peccability position (from the Latin word for “able to sin”).

Crisp, however, defends the impeccability position—the view that Christ could not have sinned. His argument is that because Christ is a divine person, and God cannot sin, Christ cannot sin. The human nature might feel the pull of temptation, but the divine person who possesses that nature would never choose sin.

This doesn’t make Christ’s temptations fake. Think of a recovering alcoholic who has taken a medication that makes them violently ill if they drink alcohol. They might still feel tempted by alcohol, struggling with genuine desire for it, even though drinking is not really an option for them. Similarly, Christ could experience the psychological and emotional pull of temptation in his human nature even though his divine personhood made sin impossible.

Did Christ Have a Fallen or Unfallen Human Nature?

One of Crisp’s most controversial positions concerns whether Christ assumed fallen or unfallen human nature. Chapter 4, “Did Christ have a fallen human nature?” presents his definitive answer: Christ’s human nature was unfallen.

Some modern theologians, including Karl Barth and T.F. Torrance, argue that Christ must have taken on fallen human nature to truly identify with us and redeem us. After all, we all have fallen natures corrupted by sin. If Christ’s human nature was unfallen, how could he truly represent us?

Crisp strongly disagrees. He argues that fallenness necessarily involves sinfulness, and a sinful Christ couldn’t be our savior. Fallen nature is corrupted nature—nature that’s damaged and inclined toward sin. If Christ had a fallen nature, he would have been a sinner in need of salvation himself, not the sinless savior we need.

Instead, Crisp proposes that Christ assumed human nature as it was meant to be—perfect and uncorrupted, like Adam before the fall. This doesn’t make him less human than us; it makes him more perfectly human. We might say that we are imperfectly human due to sin’s corruption, while Christ shows us what true humanity looks like.

This unfallen nature could still experience temptation, suffering, and death—not because it was sinful, but because Christ voluntarily entered our broken world and subjected himself to its conditions. He experienced the consequences of sin without being sinful himself.

Part 4: How the Two Natures Work Together

The Mystery of One Person, Two Natures

Perhaps the most challenging aspect of Christology is explaining how one person can have two complete natures. We’re familiar with things having one nature—humans have human nature, dogs have canine nature, angels have angelic nature. But how can something have two different natures simultaneously?

Crisp uses the classical concepts of anhypostasia and enhypostasia to explain this mystery (Chapter 3). These technical terms help us understand how Christ’s human nature relates to his divine person:

Anhypostasia means that Christ’s human nature has no independent personal existence of its own. In other words, there isn’t a human person named Jesus who exists separately from the divine Son. The human nature exists, but it doesn’t constitute a separate person.

Enhypostasia means that Christ’s human nature exists “in” the person of the divine Son. The human nature finds its personal existence in the divine person who assumes it. It’s complete human nature, but it belongs to and is expressed through the divine person of the Son.

Think of it like this: imagine a talented actor who learns to speak fluent Mandarin for a role. The ability to speak Mandarin becomes part of what this person can do, but it doesn’t create a second person. There’s still just one person who now has an additional capacity. Similarly (though the analogy is imperfect), the divine Son takes on human nature as an additional capacity without becoming two persons.

The Communication of Properties

One of the most important concepts in Crisp’s Christology is the communicatio idiomatum or “communication of properties.” This principle explains how we can make seemingly contradictory statements about Christ that are actually true.

For example, we can say “God died on the cross” and “the man Jesus created the universe.” Both statements are true because they refer to the one person of Christ who possesses both natures. The person (not the divine nature) died in his human nature. The person (not the human nature alone) created the universe through his divine nature.

In Chapter 1, “Problems with perichoresis,” Crisp carefully distinguishes this from saying that the properties of one nature are transferred to the other nature. The divine nature doesn’t become mortal, and the human nature doesn’t become omniscient. Instead, the one person can be described using properties from either nature because he truly possesses both.

It’s somewhat like how a person might be both a mother and a surgeon. We can say “the surgeon gave birth to a child” (referring to something she did as a mother) or “the mother performed heart surgery” (referring to something she did as a surgeon). Both statements are true of the one person, even though giving birth and performing surgery involve different aspects of who she is.

Nature-Perichoresis: The Dance of Two Natures

Crisp explores the concept of perichoresis, a Greek word literally meaning “dancing around,” to describe how Christ’s two natures relate to each other. Just as dancers move together in harmony while maintaining their distinct identities, Christ’s divine and human natures work together in perfect unity while remaining distinct.

This doesn’t mean the natures are mixed together like ingredients in a smoothie, creating some hybrid divine-human nature. Nor does it mean they exist separately like oil and water that happen to be in the same container. Instead, they interpenetrate while maintaining their distinct properties—the divine nature remains fully divine and the human nature remains fully human, but they work together in the one person of Christ.

Crisp warns against what he calls the “squishy use” of perichoresis—using it as a vague catch-all explanation without being precise about what it means. He insists that we must be clear: the natures are united in the person, not blended into each other. They work together harmoniously, but they don’t compromise each other’s integrity.

Part 5: Comparing Crisp’s Model with Other Scholarly Views

Andrew Loke’s Divine Preconscious Model

One of the most interesting alternatives to Crisp’s view comes from Andrew Loke, who wrote “A Kryptic Model of the Incarnation” in 2014. Like Crisp, Loke uses the term “kryptic” (hidden), but his explanation is quite different.

Loke proposes that during the incarnation, Christ’s divine knowledge and powers were pushed down into his “preconscious mind.” Think of the preconscious as the part of your mind that stores information you’re not currently thinking about but can access when needed—like your phone number or your mother’s birthday. Loke suggests that Christ’s divine attributes were tucked away in his divine preconscious while his human conscious mind operated with normal human limitations.

This is different from Crisp’s model in an important way. Crisp says the divine attributes were actively used but hidden from view. Loke says they were temporarily relegated to the background of Christ’s consciousness. It’s the difference between a professional pianist playing simple songs for children (still using their full ability but in a restrained way) versus a pianist who has temporarily forgotten their advanced training and can only play simple songs.

The strength of Loke’s model is that it provides a detailed psychological explanation for how Christ could be genuinely limited in his human experience. The weakness is that it might compromise the full exercise of divine attributes during the incarnation. If omniscience is pushed to the preconscious, is it still functioning as omniscience?

Timothy Pawl’s Defense of Traditional Christology

Timothy Pawl takes a different approach altogether in his books “In Defense of Conciliar Christology” (2016) and “In Defense of Extended Conciliar Christology” (2019). Rather than proposing new models like Crisp and Loke, Pawl focuses on showing that traditional Christian teaching about Christ is logically coherent.

Pawl uses modern philosophical tools, particularly something called “truthmaker theory,” to address apparent contradictions in traditional Christology. For instance, how can Christ be both omnipotent (all-powerful) and weak? Pawl argues that these properties can both be true because they have different “truthmakers”—the divine nature makes it true that Christ is omnipotent, while the human nature makes it true that Christ can be weak.

While Crisp is trying to develop and refine traditional theology with new concepts like divine krypsis, Pawl is essentially saying, “The traditional formulation is fine as it is—let me show you why it works.” Both approaches have value. Crisp helps us understand the tradition better by offering fresh explanations, while Pawl demonstrates that we don’t necessarily need new theories to maintain orthodox faith.

Thomas Morris’s Two-Minds Theory

Thomas Morris, in his influential book “The Logic of God Incarnate” (1986), proposes that Christ literally had two minds—one divine and one human. These two minds existed in what he calls an “asymmetric accessing relation,” meaning the divine mind could access everything in the human mind, but the human mind couldn’t access the divine mind’s contents.

Morris uses the analogy of dreaming to explain this. When you dream, you can be aware at two levels—you’re the dreamer who is creating the dream, but you’re also a character in the dream who doesn’t know what will happen next. Similarly, Christ could simultaneously have divine awareness of everything while also having genuinely limited human awareness.

Crisp is cautious about the two-minds theory because it risks dividing Christ into two persons. If there are really two separate minds, why isn’t there a divine person and a human person? Crisp’s kryptic model avoids this problem by maintaining that there’s one person operating through two natures rather than possessing two distinct minds.

Richard Swinburne’s Divided Mind Theory

Richard Swinburne, a prominent philosopher of religion, offers yet another approach. His “divided mind” theory suggests that the incarnate Christ had a divided consciousness—one part that operated with divine knowledge and another that operated with human limitations.

The key difference from Morris is that Swinburne focuses on how beliefs and actions work. He suggests that Christ’s human actions were performed based on his human belief system, while divine actions were based on divine knowledge. It’s like having two different operating systems on the same computer—you can boot into one or the other depending on what you need to do.

Compared to Crisp’s model, Swinburne’s approach is more psychologically complex. Crisp’s divine krypsis maintains more unity in Christ’s consciousness while still explaining the apparent limitations. Swinburne’s model provides more detail about the psychological mechanisms but at the cost of potentially fragmenting Christ’s unified experience.

Kenotic Theories: What Crisp Rejects

Crisp devotes significant attention (Chapter 5) to critiquing kenotic theories, which suggest that Christ “emptied himself” of certain divine attributes during the incarnation. He identifies three main types:

Strong Ontological Kenosis claims that Christ actually gave up divine attributes like omniscience and omnipotence. Crisp rejects this as impossible—God cannot stop being God. It would be like water ceasing to be H₂O while remaining water.

Weak Ontological Kenosis (defended by Stephen Davis) suggests that some divine attributes aren’t essential to divinity. Maybe God doesn’t have to be omniscient to be God. Crisp argues this is problematic because once you start saying some classical divine attributes are optional, where do you draw the line? Which attributes are essential and which are disposable?

Functional Kenosis proposes that Christ retained his divine attributes but chose not to use them. This is closer to Crisp’s view, but he thinks it doesn’t go far enough. His kryptic model suggests Christ did use his divine attributes, just in a hidden way.

Part 6: The Challenge of Physicalism to the Incarnation

Understanding Physicalism

One of the most significant modern challenges to Crisp’s incarnation model comes from physicalism—the philosophical view that humans are purely physical beings without immaterial souls. This view has gained popularity as neuroscience has shown increasing connections between brain states and mental experiences.

Physicalism comes in several varieties:

Reductive physicalism says that all mental states (thoughts, feelings, consciousness) are nothing more than brain states. Your experience of joy is just certain neurons firing in certain patterns. Your belief that 2+2=4 is just a particular configuration of brain matter.

Non-reductive physicalism agrees that humans are purely physical but argues that mental properties can’t be simply reduced to physical properties. Your thoughts emerge from your brain but can’t be fully explained just by describing neurons. It’s like how the wetness of water emerges from H₂O molecules but isn’t reducible to them.

Eliminative materialism goes furthest, claiming that our common-sense ideas about minds, thoughts, and consciousness are simply wrong. According to this view, future neuroscience will show that beliefs, desires, and consciousness don’t really exist—they’re illusions created by our brains.

Why Physicalism Challenges the Incarnation

The challenge physicalism poses to the incarnation is profound. Traditional Christian theology has always taught that Christ assumed complete human nature, which includes a “rational soul”—an immaterial component that makes humans truly human. The Chalcedonian Definition speaks of Christ being “perfect in humanity,” composed of “a rational soul and a body.”

If physicalism is true and humans don’t have immaterial souls, then either:

1. Christ didn’t assume complete human nature (because he had a soul when real humans don’t), or
2. Traditional theology was wrong about souls being part of human nature

Either option creates serious theological problems. If Christ didn’t assume complete human nature, then he can’t be our perfect representative and savior. As the church fathers said, “What is not assumed is not healed.” But if traditional theology was wrong about human nature, what else might it be wrong about?

Crisp recognizes this challenge and offers a nuanced response. He suggests that Christians committed to physicalism could argue that “complete human nature” means whatever humans actually are. If humans are purely physical beings with emergent mental properties, then that’s what Christ assumed. The key is that Christ took on genuine human nature, whatever that turns out to be.

The Death of Christ Problem

Physicalism creates a particularly acute problem when we consider Christ’s death. If humans are purely physical beings, then death means complete cessation of existence. When the brain stops functioning, the person ceases to exist entirely. There’s no soul that continues after bodily death.

This creates what we might call the “Friday to Sunday problem.” If Christ was fully human and humans are purely physical, then when Christ died on Good Friday, his human nature completely ceased to exist. But if his human nature ceased to exist, several problems arise:

1. The incarnation would be temporarily suspended. For those three days, the Son of God would no longer be incarnate because there would be no human nature for him to be united to.

2. The hypostatic union would be broken. Orthodox theology teaches that the union between Christ’s divine and human natures is permanent and unbreakable. But if the human nature ceases to exist, how can the union continue?

3. The resurrection would be a new incarnation. If Christ’s human nature ceased to exist at death, then the resurrection wouldn’t be bringing the same human nature back to life—it would be creating a new human nature. But then is the risen Christ the same person who died?

Traditional theology avoids these problems by teaching that Christ’s human soul continued to exist after death, remaining united to his divine nature even while separated from his body. His soul descended to the realm of the dead while his body lay in the tomb, and at the resurrection, soul and body were reunited.

But if there is no soul—if humans are purely physical—then this traditional solution doesn’t work. The physicalist must find another way to explain how the incarnation continues through death and how the risen Christ is the same person who died.

Personal Identity and Resurrection

The physicalism debate connects directly to questions about personal identity and resurrection. If we are purely physical beings, what makes you the same person throughout your life? Your body completely replaces its atoms every few years. Your brain states are constantly changing. What provides continuity of identity?

This becomes even more challenging when we consider resurrection. If you cease to exist at death and God later creates a new body with your memories and personality, is that really you or just a copy? It’s like the famous “Star Trek transporter problem”—if you’re disassembled in one place and reassembled somewhere else, did you travel or did you die and get replaced by a duplicate?

For the incarnation, this question is crucial. The risen Christ must be the same person who died, not a replacement. But if there’s no soul to provide continuity through death, how can we be sure the risen Christ is identical to the crucified Christ?

Some physicalist Christians argue that God maintains the information pattern that constitutes a person and uses it to reconstitute them at resurrection. But critics argue this still sounds more like creating a copy than resurrecting the original person.

Near-Death Experiences: Evidence Against Physicalism?

Crisp’s model gains support from the phenomenon of near-death experiences (NDEs), which seem to suggest that consciousness can exist independently of brain function. Thousands of people have reported conscious experiences while their brains showed little or no activity—experiences that often include accurate observations of events they couldn’t have physically witnessed.

Particularly challenging for physicalism are cases of people born blind who report visual experiences during NDEs. If consciousness is purely a product of brain function, how could someone with no visual experience suddenly see during a time when their brain is barely functioning?

These experiences don’t prove dualism (the view that humans have souls), but they do raise serious questions about physicalism. If consciousness can exist without normal brain function, even temporarily, then perhaps humans aren’t purely physical after all. And if humans have immaterial aspects, then the traditional understanding of the incarnation remains viable.

Physicalists attempt to explain NDEs through various mechanisms—lack of oxygen to the brain, release of endorphins, the brain’s attempt to make sense of the dying process. But these explanations struggle to account for the veridical (verified accurate) observations people report and the consistency of experiences across cultures.

Part 16: Physicalism, Conditional Immortality, and the Incarnation

The Connection Between Physicalism and Conditional Immortality

The debate about physicalism has profound implications for understanding the afterlife and connects directly to the doctrine of conditional immortality, also known as annihilationism. This teaching, which has gained traction in some evangelical circles, proposes that immortality is not inherent to human nature but is a gift God gives only to the saved. The unsaved, rather than suffering eternal conscious torment, are ultimately destroyed or cease to exist.

The connection between physicalism and conditional immortality is not accidental. If humans are purely physical beings without immaterial souls, then we have no inherent capacity to survive bodily death. Death truly means the end of existence unless God intervenes to resurrect us. This makes conditional immortality seem more plausible—why would God resurrect the wicked just to torment them forever when he could simply leave them in the state of non-existence that death naturally brings?

Crisp’s model, which assumes humans have both body and soul, provides resources for responding to conditional immortality. If humans have immaterial souls that naturally survive bodily death, then all people—saved and unsaved—continue to exist after death. The question is not whether they exist but in what state they exist. This traditional view sees hell not as God actively tormenting people but as the natural consequence of souls rejecting their proper end in God.

However, if physicalism is true, the entire framework changes. Without souls, there is no natural immortality. Everyone ceases to exist at death unless God chooses to resurrect them. This would mean that eternal life truly is a gift given only to believers, while the fate of the wicked is to remain in the non-existence that death brings—or to be resurrected for judgment and then annihilated.

How Physicalism Affects Christ’s Death and the Atonement

The physicalism debate profoundly affects our understanding of what happened when Christ died on the cross. Traditional theology teaches that when Christ died, his body was placed in the tomb while his soul descended to Hades or Paradise. The divine person remained united to both the separated soul and body, maintaining the incarnation even through death.

But if physicalism is true, this traditional understanding becomes impossible. When Christ’s brain ceased functioning, his human consciousness would have ceased entirely. There would be no soul to descend anywhere. The human nature would simply cease to exist. This raises critical questions about the atonement itself:

First, if Christ’s human nature ceased to exist at death, did the incarnation end? And if it ended, even temporarily, what does this mean for the permanence of the hypostatic union? Crisp’s model assumes the union is permanent and indissoluble. A temporary cessation would seem to contradict this fundamental principle.

Second, how can we understand Christ’s victory over death if he experienced the same cessation of existence that all humans face? Traditional theology sees Christ’s death as unique—he tasted death for everyone while maintaining his divine power over it. But if his human nature simply ceased to exist like everyone else’s, where is the victory?

Third, what exactly was accomplished during the three days between crucifixion and resurrection? Traditional theology speaks of Christ preaching to the spirits in prison, leading captives free, and preparing Paradise for the faithful. But if Christ’s human nature didn’t exist during this time, these activities become problematic. Was it only his divine nature acting? But then how is this different from the pre-incarnate Son’s activities?

The Problem of the Intermediate State

The intermediate state—the condition of humans between death and the final resurrection—poses particular challenges for physicalist interpretations of the incarnation. Scripture seems to indicate conscious existence between death and resurrection. Jesus told the thief on the cross, “Today you will be with me in Paradise.” Paul speaks of departing to be with Christ. The rich man and Lazarus appear to be conscious after death in Jesus’s parable.

If physicalism is true, these passages must be reinterpreted. Some physicalists propose “soul sleep”—the idea that the dead are unconscious until resurrection. Others suggest that “today” in Jesus’s promise refers to the day of resurrection from the thief’s perspective, since unconscious beings don’t experience the passage of time. Still others argue for immediate resurrection at death, though this contradicts the biblical timeline of a future general resurrection.

For Christology, these reinterpretations create complications. If there’s no intermediate state, what happened to Christ’s human nature during the three days in the tomb? Did it exist in some special way that doesn’t apply to other humans? But then Christ’s death wasn’t truly like ours, undermining his role as our representative.

Crisp’s model, with its affirmation of the soul, provides a more straightforward account. Christ’s soul, like all human souls, survived bodily death. United to his divine nature, it remained active during the intermediate state. At the resurrection, soul and body were reunited, completing the victory over death.

Resurrection as Re-Creation vs. Restoration

Perhaps the most significant challenge physicalism poses to the incarnation concerns the nature of resurrection itself. If humans are purely physical, resurrection cannot be the restoration of something that survived death (the soul) to something that didn’t (the body). Instead, it must be complete re-creation of a person who had ceased to exist.

This raises the philosophical problem of identity. Is a re-created person the same as the one who died, or merely a copy with the same memories and personality? If I cease to exist at death and God later creates a being with my memories and personality, is that really me or just someone who thinks they’re me?

For Christ’s resurrection, this problem is particularly acute. Orthodox Christianity insists that the same Christ who died on Friday rose on Sunday. The resurrection isn’t the creation of a new Christ but the victory of the existing Christ over death. But if Christ’s human nature ceased to exist at death, how can the risen Christ be numerically identical to the crucified Christ?

Some physicalists appeal to God’s omnipotence—surely God can maintain personal identity even through complete non-existence. But this seems to make personal identity a matter of divine fiat rather than metaphysical fact. If God decided to create multiple copies of you after death, which one would be the “real” you? The question seems unanswerable, suggesting that something is wrong with the physicalist framework.

Crisp’s dualist anthropology avoids these problems. Since the soul survives death, personal identity is maintained through the intermediate state. Resurrection reunites the surviving soul with a renewed body—the same person throughout, not a replica.

Part 17: Implications for Understanding Human Dignity and the Image of God

What Makes Humans Special?

The incarnation teaches us something profound about human nature and dignity. If God the Son took on human nature permanently, becoming forever united to humanity, this suggests that human nature has unique value in creation. But what exactly makes humans special? How we answer this question affects everything from bioethics to environmental ethics to how we treat people with disabilities.

Crisp’s model suggests that human uniqueness involves both physical and spiritual dimensions. We’re not special just because of our rational capacities (though these matter) or just because of our physical form (though embodiment is essential) or just because we have souls (though the spiritual dimension is crucial). Rather, human dignity comes from the integrated wholeness of our nature as beings created for communion with God.

Physicalism challenges this understanding by suggesting humans differ from other animals only in degree, not in kind. If we’re just complex biological machines, our superiority over other animals is merely a matter of having more sophisticated neural networks. This makes it harder to justify the unique moral status traditionally accorded to humans.

Some physicalists try to preserve human dignity by focusing on emergent properties like consciousness, rationality, or moral agency. But this approach has troubling implications. What about humans who lack these capacities—infants, people with severe cognitive disabilities, those in persistent vegetative states? If human dignity depends on functional capacities, these individuals might have less value than typically functioning adults.

Crisp’s dualist anthropology provides a more robust foundation for human dignity. Every human possesses a soul bearing God’s image, regardless of their current functional capacities. A person in a coma remains fully human and fully valuable because their soul persists even when their brain function is impaired. This provides strong grounds for protecting vulnerable humans who lack typical cognitive abilities.

The Image of God in Christ

The incarnation reveals what the image of God truly means. In Christ, we see perfect image-bearing—humanity as God intended it to be. This helps us understand what we lost in the fall and what we’re being restored to through salvation.

According to Crisp’s model, Christ shows us that bearing God’s image involves:

1. Rational capacities – The ability to think, reason, and make moral judgments
2. Relational nature – The capacity for communion with God and genuine relationships with others
3. Creative abilities – The power to shape and cultivate creation as God’s representatives
4. Moral agency – The ability to choose between good and evil, to love or reject God
5. Spiritual dimension – The capacity for worship, prayer, and eternal life

Christ perfectly exemplifies all these dimensions. His teaching demonstrates perfect wisdom. His relationships show perfect love. His miracles display creative power. His obedience reveals moral perfection. His prayer life shows perfect communion with the Father.

Importantly, Christ demonstrates that these capacities are meant to work together in integrated wholeness. The image of God isn’t just one of these features but all of them functioning in harmony. This is why both body and soul matter—the image of God is expressed through our entire being.

Implications for Bioethics

How we understand human nature profoundly affects bioethical decisions. Crisp’s model, with its affirmation of body-soul dualism and the image of God in every human, provides clear guidance on several controversial issues:

Abortion: If humans have souls from conception, then unborn humans are persons deserving protection. The incarnation reinforces this—Christ became incarnate at conception, not at birth. Mary was told she would conceive the Son of God, not that she would conceive tissue that would later become the Son of God.

Euthanasia: If humans have souls that survive bodily death, then hastening death doesn’t end suffering—it just transfers the person to a different state of existence. Moreover, if suffering can be redemptive (as Christ’s suffering was), then eliminating suffering through death might rob people of spiritual growth.

Enhancement: If human nature as created is good enough for God to unite himself to it permanently, then attempts to transcend human nature through technology might be misguided. The goal shouldn’t be to escape human limitations but to perfect human nature within its created bounds.

Disability: If the image of God resides in the soul rather than in functional capacities, then people with disabilities are fully human and fully valuable. Christ’s incarnation dignifies human weakness and limitation, showing that these don’t diminish human worth.

Physicalist perspectives lead to different conclusions. If humans are purely biological, then personhood might begin when consciousness emerges and end when it ceases. This could justify abortion, euthanasia, and the elimination of those deemed to have insufficient quality of life. It might also support radical enhancement to transcend biological limitations.

Part 18: The Incarnation and Modern Science

Engaging with Neuroscience

Modern neuroscience has revealed remarkable correlations between brain states and mental states. Damage to specific brain regions predictably affects personality, memory, and cognition. Drugs that alter brain chemistry change thoughts and emotions. Brain scans can sometimes predict decisions before people are consciously aware of making them. These discoveries seem to support physicalism—if the mind depends so heavily on the brain, maybe the mind just is the brain.

Crisp’s model can accommodate these findings without accepting physicalism. The soul might operate through the brain without being identical to it. Think of a musician playing a piano—the music depends entirely on the piano’s condition, but the musician exists independently of the instrument. Similarly, the soul might express itself through the brain while remaining distinct from it.

This view explains why brain damage affects mental function—a damaged instrument can’t properly express the musician’s abilities. It also explains why drugs affect consciousness—altering the instrument changes the music produced. But it maintains that there’s more to the person than just the brain.

The incarnation provides a theological foundation for this view. Christ’s human nature included a real human brain subject to fatigue, development, and limitation. Yet his divine nature transcended these physical constraints. If the divine can work through the physical without being reduced to it, perhaps the soul can too.

Quantum Mechanics and Consciousness

Some contemporary thinkers have suggested that quantum mechanics might provide a bridge between physical and mental reality. Quantum phenomena like superposition and entanglement seem to transcend classical physical categories. Perhaps consciousness involves quantum processes that can’t be reduced to classical neural activity.

While Crisp doesn’t extensively engage with quantum theories of consciousness, his framework could potentially incorporate them. If the soul interfaces with the body through quantum processes in the brain, this might explain how an immaterial soul could influence physical reality without violating natural laws.

However, Crisp would likely caution against putting too much theological weight on speculative scientific theories. The incarnation doesn’t depend on any particular scientific account of consciousness. Whether the soul-body interaction involves quantum processes or something else entirely, the theological truth remains: Christ took on complete human nature, body and soul.

Evolution and Human Nature

The theory of evolution raises questions about when humans first bore God’s image. If humans evolved gradually from earlier species, was there a first human with a soul? Or did souls emerge gradually? How does this affect our understanding of the incarnation?

Crisp’s model could accommodate theistic evolution by proposing that at some point in evolutionary history, God endowed emerging humans with rational souls. This wouldn’t require denying scientific evidence for human evolution while maintaining that humans are more than just evolved animals.

The incarnation actually supports the idea that humans are qualitatively different from other animals. God became human, not just a primate or mammal. This suggests there’s something unique about human nature that makes it suitable for union with divinity. While we share biological features with animals, we possess something additional—the image of God—that makes incarnation possible.

Part 19: Practical Applications for Christian Life and Ministry

Spiritual Formation and Discipleship

Understanding the incarnation through Crisp’s model has profound implications for spiritual growth. If Christ retained his divine nature while living a fully human life, this shows that spiritual maturity doesn’t mean becoming less human but becoming properly human. We’re not called to escape our humanity but to have it transformed by grace.

This affects how we approach spiritual disciplines. Prayer isn’t about transcending the body but about offering our entire being—body and soul—to God. Fasting isn’t about punishing the body but about training it to serve spiritual purposes. Worship involves both physical actions (singing, kneeling, taking communion) and spiritual devotion.

Christ’s example shows that depending on God doesn’t diminish human agency. He prayed for strength, relied on the Spirit, and submitted to the Father’s will, yet he made real human choices. This model of dependent agency guides our own spiritual journey—we work out our salvation while God works in us.

The reality of Christ’s temptations encourages us in our own struggles. He faced genuine temptation in his human nature even though sin was impossible for him as a divine person. This means our temptations don’t make us less spiritual—they’re part of the human experience that Christ himself endured.

Pastoral Care and Counseling

Crisp’s Christology provides rich resources for pastoral care. When ministering to those who suffer, we can point to a Savior who truly understands human pain. Christ experienced suffering in his human nature—not just physical pain but also emotional anguish, rejection, and abandonment. He knows what it’s like to feel overwhelmed, to struggle with difficult choices, to face death.

Yet because Christ remained divine while suffering, we can also offer hope that suffering doesn’t have the final word. Our identity as God’s children isn’t destroyed by our trials. Like Christ, we can experience genuine human suffering while maintaining our spiritual identity and hope.

For those struggling with depression or mental illness, Crisp’s model offers both understanding and hope. If the soul works through the brain, then mental illness might involve physical dysfunction that affects but doesn’t define the person. Medical treatment for brain disorders doesn’t deny spiritual reality any more than setting a broken bone denies the resurrection of the body.

The incarnation also speaks to those who feel worthless or dehumanized. If God valued humanity enough to become permanently human, then every person has infinite worth. Christ didn’t take on idealized humanity but entered our world of limitation, weakness, and mortality. This dignifies every human experience, even the most difficult ones.

Preaching and Teaching

Understanding Christ’s two natures helps preachers and teachers explain difficult biblical passages. Why does Jesus sometimes seem to know everything and sometimes claim ignorance? How can he be both David’s son and David’s Lord? How can he pray to the Father if he’s God? Crisp’s model provides a coherent framework for addressing these questions.

When preaching from the Gospels, teachers can help congregations see both natures at work. In the storm on the lake, we see Christ’s human nature (sleeping from exhaustion) and his divine nature (commanding wind and waves). At Lazarus’s tomb, we see human emotion (weeping) and divine power (raising the dead). This dual perspective enriches our reading of familiar stories.

The incarnation also provides a model for understanding Christian living. We’re called to be fully human (embracing our created nature) while participating in divine life (through union with Christ). We don’t cease being human when we become Christian; we become truly human for the first time.

Worship and Liturgy

Crisp’s Christology enriches corporate worship by helping us understand whom we’re worshiping. We approach Christ as both transcendent God deserving reverence and incarnate brother inviting intimacy. This paradox doesn’t create confusion but richness in worship.

In the Eucharist, we remember both natures. The broken bread and poured wine remind us of Christ’s true human body given for us. Yet we’re not merely remembering a dead teacher but proclaiming the death of the eternal Son until he comes. The one who said “This is my body” is both the human Jesus who would die the next day and the divine Word who spoke creation into existence.

Hymns and songs can reflect both aspects of Christ’s person. We sing “Holy, Holy, Holy” to the eternal Son who shares the Father’s glory. We sing “Man of Sorrows” to the one who bore our grief. Both types of songs are about the same person, approaching him from different angles.

The church calendar also reflects the two natures. Christmas celebrates the Word becoming flesh—divinity taking on humanity. Good Friday remembers Christ’s human death. Easter proclaims his victory through both natures. Ascension affirms that humanity has been taken into heaven. Each season highlights different aspects of the one mystery of the incarnation.

Part 20: Conclusion – The Enduring Significance of Crisp’s Model

Summary of Crisp’s Contributions

Oliver Crisp’s model of the incarnation represents a significant achievement in contemporary theology. By bringing analytical philosophical rigor to classical Christological questions, he has shown that traditional orthodoxy remains intellectually viable in the modern world. His key contributions include:

The divine krypsis theory provides an innovative solution to the problem of divine attributes in the incarnation. Unlike kenotic theories that compromise divine immutability, or psychological theories that risk dividing Christ’s person, Crisp’s model maintains that Christ retained and exercised all divine attributes in a hidden manner. This preserves both the integrity of the divine nature and the reality of human limitations.

His three-part Christology carefully distinguishes the components of the incarnate Christ—the divine Logos, human body, and human soul—while maintaining personal unity. This avoids the errors of both Apollinarianism (which denied Christ had a human soul) and Nestorianism (which divided Christ into two persons).

His defense of Christ’s unfallen human nature maintains the sinlessness necessary for Christ’s saving work while allowing for genuine temptation and suffering. This position, though controversial, provides important theological clarity about what Christ assumed in the incarnation and why.

His engagement with contemporary philosophy demonstrates that Christian theology can dialogue with modern thought without compromising essential doctrines. By addressing challenges from physicalism, philosophy of mind, and modal logic, Crisp shows that orthodox Christology can hold its own in contemporary intellectual discourse.

Remaining Questions and Future Directions

While Crisp’s model offers significant insights, several questions remain for future exploration:

The mechanism of divine krypsis needs further development. How exactly can divine attributes be exercised while remaining hidden? What does it mean for omniscience to function in a concealed manner? These questions require more detailed philosophical and theological analysis.

The relationship between consciousness and natures remains somewhat mysterious. How does one person experience through two distinct natures? Is there one unified consciousness or two coordinated centers of awareness? Different answers lead to different theological implications.

The pastoral implications of technical Christology deserve more attention. How do these theological distinctions affect prayer, spiritual direction, and Christian formation? More work is needed to connect academic theology with lived faith.

The global perspectives on incarnation need greater incorporation. How might non-Western philosophical frameworks illuminate aspects of the incarnation that Western thought has overlooked? Cross-cultural dialogue could enrich our understanding.

The scientific challenges will continue evolving. As neuroscience and artificial intelligence advance, new questions will arise about consciousness, personhood, and the soul. Theology must continue engaging these developments while maintaining core convictions.

The Practical Importance of Sound Christology

Some might wonder why such technical theological distinctions matter for ordinary Christian life. Crisp’s work demonstrates that sound doctrine has profound practical implications:

For salvation: If Christ isn’t fully God, he can’t save us. If he isn’t fully human, he can’t represent us. The incarnation isn’t just an abstract doctrine but the foundation of the gospel itself.

For anthropology: How we understand Christ’s human nature affects how we understand our own. Are we purely physical beings or body-soul unities? The answer affects everything from medical ethics to funeral practices.

For spirituality: Christ’s example shows us what human life should look like. His perfect humanity, maintained while being divine, provides our model for spiritual growth.

For hope: The permanent incarnation means humanity has an eternal future. We’re not destined to become angels or pure spirits but glorified humans like the risen Christ.

For worship: Understanding who Christ is enriches our praise. We worship one who is both transcendent creator and intimate brother, infinite God and finite man.

The Mystery Remains

Despite all our analysis, the incarnation remains ultimately mysterious. Crisp’s work doesn’t eliminate mystery but helps us understand its boundaries. We can be clear about what we believe and why, even while acknowledging that the how transcends human comprehension.

This is fitting, for we’re dealing with the most profound act in history—the eternal God entering time, the infinite becoming finite, the creator becoming creature while remaining creator. No amount of philosophical analysis can fully capture this reality. As the early church father Gregory of Nazianzus wrote, “That which is not assumed is not healed.” Christ assumed our nature to heal it, and in doing so revealed both the depths of God’s love and the heights of human destiny.

The incarnation is not primarily a puzzle to be solved but a person to be encountered. Jesus Christ, the God-man, invites us into relationship with himself. Theological models like Crisp’s help us better understand this invitation, but ultimately we must move from analysis to adoration, from comprehension to communion.

Final Reflections

Oliver Crisp’s model of the incarnation stands as a significant contribution to contemporary Christian theology. By defending and refining classical Chalcedonian Christology with analytical philosophical tools, he has shown that orthodox faith remains intellectually viable while addressing modern challenges.

His work is particularly valuable in an age of theological confusion and revision. While many theologians abandon or radically modify traditional doctrines, Crisp demonstrates that patient analysis and careful thinking can vindicate ancient truths. The councils of Nicaea and Chalcedon got the essential points right; our task is to understand and articulate their insights for our generation.

Yet Crisp’s work also shows appropriate humility. He doesn’t claim to have solved all Christological problems or eliminated all mystery. Instead, he offers tools for thinking more clearly about profound truths that ultimately transcend human understanding. This balance of confidence and humility provides a model for theological reflection.

As we face new challenges from science, philosophy, and culture, Crisp’s approach offers guidance. We need not fear honest questions or rigorous analysis. The truth of the incarnation can withstand scrutiny. Indeed, careful examination often reveals its beauty more clearly, like a diamond that sparkles more brilliantly under direct light.

The incarnation remains the central miracle of Christianity—more fundamental than even the resurrection, for without the incarnation there would be no one to rise from the dead. It’s the hinge on which all Christian theology turns, the lens through which we understand God, humanity, and salvation.

In taking on human nature, the eternal Son revealed God’s character—not distant and uninvolved but intimately concerned with creation. He revealed human destiny—not absorption into divinity but the perfection of humanity in union with God. He revealed the path of salvation—not human achievement but divine grace working through human nature.

Crisp’s model helps us appreciate these truths more deeply. By showing how one person can be both fully divine and fully human, he illuminates the mystery without dispelling it. By defending the coherence of orthodox Christology, he strengthens faith without eliminating the need for faith. By engaging contemporary challenges, he shows that ancient truths speak to modern questions.

As we continue to reflect on the incarnation, may we hold together what Crisp’s model helps us distinguish—the full deity and full humanity of Christ, united in one person forever. May we worship the one who is both our God and our brother, our creator and our redeemer, transcendent in glory and intimate in love. And may we find in the incarnation not just a doctrine to believe but a reality that transforms how we understand ourselves, our world, and our destiny.

The Word became flesh and dwelt among us. In that simple statement lies infinite mystery and boundless grace. Oliver Crisp’s work helps us think more clearly about this mystery, but ultimately it points us beyond thought to wonder, beyond analysis to adoration. For in Jesus Christ, fully God and fully human, we encounter not just an idea to be understood but a person to be loved, followed, and worshiped forever.

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