
What happens when you remove the plumbing of classical theology and try to water your doctrine with poetic metaphors? Apparently, you get a theology that overflows in every direction except the right one.
Wesley Huff, a popular apologist and speaker, has become a rising voice in evangelical circles for his warm, winsome presentations of the Trinity. But beneath the surface-level appeal lies a deeper structural weakness. The pipes are leaking, and the cathedral is starting to lean. This article is just raising some red flags and asking for a closer look at Wes Huff's theology of the Trinity.
In Huff’s popular presentations, a key recurring metaphor is that creation is the “overflow of God’s love.” It sounds beautiful. Gentle and almost devotional. But theologically, it suggests that creation emerges because God’s internal relational joy simply had to spill out. This metaphor might work in a children’s storybook, but in the hands of a theologian, it leaks dangerous assumptions. If God “overflowed” into creation, was He previously containing Himself? Was something missing in the Godhead before time began? Did the cosmos arrive because God reached emotional critical mass?
One is forced to wonder: Did God feel better after Genesis 1? Did He finally express His feelings after an eternal bottling-up? Did the Almighty sigh in relief and say, “Ahh, that’s better”? Overflow theology risks making God reactive and emotionally needy—two traits disqualified by every classical confession.
In reviewing Huff’s transcripts from the past five years, a pattern emerges—not just of what he says, but of what he avoids. The historic vocabulary of the Trinity is missing. The following terms, forged in the fires of heresy and hammered into doctrinal clarity across centuries, are conspicuously absent in Huff’s apologetics:
No, Huff is not guilty of these heresies. But the doctrinal guardrails that would prevent them are absent in his talks.
I watched three of Huff’s Trinity videos (each around 20 minutes) and a few other talks. Not once did he quote, reference, or acknowledge the Westminster Confession of Faith. This isn’t a technical oversight—it’s a doctrinal collapse.
Without WCF affirmations on God’s unity (II.1), independence (II.2), and covenant (VII), Huff’s theology slides into relational sentimentalism. He sounds Reformed-ish, but with no confessional spine. Trinity becomes community, sin becomes brokenness, and God becomes emotionally expressive—more like a cosmic therapist than the immutable I AM.
When “overflow” replaces decree, covenant collapses. Creation is no longer a result of divine freedom and wisdom (WCF IV.1), but an emotional spillover. The covenant becomes afterglow, not condescension.
And if God’s love merely “spilled out,” why covenant structure? Why law? Why blood? Did Sinai happen from overflow? Was the Cross a pipe burst? Tear out covenant from creation, and redemption loses its footing. Judgment becomes a mood swing.
Herman Bavinck didn’t need overflow metaphors. He had something stronger: divine fullness. God creates not out of need, but out of glory. The Trinity is not a cosmic friendship circle—it is the eternally blessed communion of one Being, three Persons.
He writes: “God is the plenitude of being… who knows and loves Himself with infinite power and consciousness.”1
The WCF does not blink: God is “infinite in being and perfection… without body, parts, or passions.”2 When we trade that for poetic overflow, we don’t get intimacy—we get instability.
And here's the Baptist twist. Huff, a Reformed Baptist, doesn’t quote or reference the 1689 Second London Baptist Confession either. Not a phrase. Not a chapter. Not even “subsisteth in three persons.” He avoids Westminster and London—dodging the very Reformed roots that could support his apologetic.
This post-confessionalism is not neutrality. It is surrender. By removing classical categories, Huff makes his theology digestible for ecumenism—superficially agreeable across traditions, but doctrinally diluted. Lowest common denominator theology is great for interfaith panels. It cannot guard the church.
So let us speak plainly. Wesley Huff’s popular presentations are charming, but theologically disarmed. They offer warmth without weight, metaphor without substance, and community without covenant. They are incapable of defending the faith against even the softest forms of modern heresy.
Only the classical, Reformed, confessional vision of God—immutable, triune, and self-sufficient—can sustain the gospel, uphold the covenant, and anchor the church. Every other view is not just inadequate, it is, historically and theologically, indefensible and dangerous.