There is no such thing as a will existing in a perfect state of balance—neither inclined nor declined—standing in a neutral, motionless equilibrium. Such a state would be devoid of true volition. To will is to have a stronger desire for one thing than for another. This fundamental truth highlights that willing involves a preference, a leaning toward one object over another. When you are willing, you are expressing a preference rooted in desire, favoring one choice rather than another. If you are willing, then I am willing to elaborate further—if, that is, you are willing to listen. I recognize that many readers might be contemplating these words, perhaps pondering their meaning deeply. In his writings, Edwards encapsulates his perspective on free will, especially contrasting it with Arminian views. He contends that, in the Arminian framework, the will is imagined as truly free—free in the sense that, when presented with the gospel, it can freely accept or reject it. In such a conception, the will is both the subject that makes the choice and the predicate that performs it. But what exactly is the will? Is it merely a faculty capable of making choices? Or does it possess a kind of internal mind—a determiner within—that actively decides whether to be willing? This is what is often called self-determining power. When you claim that you possess a free choice regarding whether to accept or reject the gospel, you are asserting that your will has a self-determining power—an ability to choose independently. You imply that the will is an inert faculty, lying dormant until you actively decide to accept salvation. Yet, in reality, the nature of the will is to prefer one thing over another; to will is to have a preference. The act of willing is an expression of that preference—an act of choosing what you desire more. Therefore, you are the subject—the one making the choice—and your will is the predicate—the act through which you express your preference. The will itself is not a separate, autonomous agent. It is not something that exists in a neutral state, waiting to be activated. To suppose that the will lies dormant between two options, awaiting some external spark to stir it into motion, is to misunderstand its true nature. It is you who do the willing; the faculty of the will merely serves as the instrument through which you manifest your internal preferences and desires. Furthermore, there is no such thing as a will in a perfect state of balance—neither inclined nor declined—that exists in a neutral, motionless state. That is not true will. Genuine willing involves a stronger desire for one object over another. To will is to have a preference, an inclination toward one thing rather than another. When you are willing, you are revealing a desire that leans in a particular direction. This act of willing is an expression of your internal preferences; it is something you perform. You are the subject—the one who makes the choice—and your will is the act, the predicate, through which you express your desire. However, if the will depends on something outside itself—if it is influenced or determined by external factors—then can it genuinely be called free? These are profound questions that demand careful reflection. To illustrate, imagine a simple scenario: you sit in a chair positioned between two tables—on one lies a peach, on the other a pear. If someone claims that this scenario exemplifies free will, consider this: your will is not exercised until you prefer the peach over the pear. When that preference arises, then you are willing; then you are making a choice based on what you desire more. Your act of willing expresses a preference, a leaning toward one object rather than another.