There is a line of reasoning that says that the de-Judaizing of Christianity that occurred in stages from the first to the fourth centuries stripped it of all its Jewish elements leaving a form and substance that was culturally neutral. This having been accomplished, the whole nature of the religion had changed from obedience to the commandments of an external law to submission to the Spirit of God as an internal presence. This principle certainly exists in the teachings of Paul, but the outward trappings of Jewish culture persisted until the fourth century when they were stripped away by Constantine.

That being the case, the question of God’s moral objectivism becomes moot. Christianity itself is the answer. Commandments, per se, are subordinated to an inner guidance which is customized, so to speak, to the individual. No one is judged by comparison to 1) an impossible ideal, or 2) anyone else that lives or has lived. A person is measured only against his realizable potential. C. S. Lewis—I believe in Mere Christianity—employed an analogy to factories. Two factories, one excellent, efficient, and productive and one old, decrepit, and not very productive represent two particular believers. God does not judge, Lewis argues, between the factories or either factory to some objective standard, but instead each factory’s output is measured against its potential. By this standard, he said that the worse factory could come out better in God’s judgment than the better one. Given its very poor condition, it might be a wonder that the lesser factory produced anything at all, and it might be a further wonder, given its much better condition, that the better factory did not produce a great deal more. In this way, one could see how that a man who only won two souls to Christ in his lifetime could have accomplished more in God’s judgment than one who had harvested thousands.

In this way, the subjectivism of God’s moral judgment becomes patently obvious. So much so that it is like something camouflaged that, at first, you cannot see no matter how hard you look, and then once you do see it, you can’t NOT see it no matter how hard you try.

Non sequitur.