I’ve no idea what will is, free or otherwise. We so vastly, grandiosely overstate our significance as individuals and the random play of nurture on our evolved, genetic, pre-wired natures that make us ephemerally, transiently yet stubbornly us. In my mother’s severe, terminal dementia, to her dying breath, she was still my mother, she still had the same personality. As the Roman church says, we have disordered passions. Through no fault of our own and therefore anybody else’s. Jesus HAS to fix that. That’s His job. Faithfulness. We’re all saved by it. Not by some tupenny-ha’penny belief in Him. It doesn’t matter what attitude we have in the resurrection. He’ll fix it. In dialogue. With inexorable love. I want my feeble, malconditioned will, my disordered passions fixed please. I don’t care what that takes, what I lose (sex drive, identity for a start) to gain that.