When
I first came to the Christian faith as a young boy, my understanding of the
Gospel was quite simple: I knew I wasn’t really a good boy; I snuck cookies
when I thought I could get away with it.
I told lies to avoid punishment.
I was mean to my little sister.
In short, I was bad – sometimes very bad. I understood that bad people go to this place
where they are tortured forever, like burning to death without dying. I was scared of where I would go if I
died. I liked to read the Bible,
though. It was filled with all sorts of
exciting stories and adventures. One of
those stories was about a man who somehow was really God. This man did all kinds of miracles – even
raising people from the dead. This Man
died for my sins, and if I would just believe and trust in Him with my life, He
would take me to heaven, even if I did bad things. This man loved children like me and didn’t
want to see me go to Hell. His name was
Jesus.
I
prayed fervently for this Jesus to come into my heart and rescue me from Hell,
where I knew I was going. I also prayed
He would help me to be a better boy, so my parents wouldn’t be mad at me so
much. My understanding of the faith as a
1st-grade youth was pretty simple, but I am convinced it was enough
– and that when I understood about Jesus and prayed that prayer, my eternal
destiny was changed forever.
A
few years later, I came to, ahem, “understand” that the faith was more complex
than I had understood as a boy. Some
people taught that, even though we are saved from our sins by faith in Jesus,
we could lose our salvation if we sinned enough or decided to stop believing in
Him. These people were called
Armenians. I wasn’t sure what all this
had to do with a little country that I had only heard of in association with
gypsy culture, but I figured, maybe Armenianism had started as some kind of
regional movement. On the other hand,
these other guys, called Calvinists, believed that you couldn’t lose your
salvation by sinning, because that would be like saying we had to earn our
salvation through works. I decided I
must be a Calvinist.
It
was only much later that I came to understand who Calvin and Arminius were, and
that the argument between Calvinists and Arminians went much deeper than the
issue of whether one could lose his or her salvation, and that I did not have
to be either an Arminian or a Calvinist in order to be a Christian.
At
the heart of the argument between Calvinists and Arminians (and others who
would not categorize themselves as either) is their respective understanding of
the terms Predestination and Election.
In
short the Reformed doctrine of election (or rather predestination, which
encompasses both election and non-election) is the belief that:
“From
all of eternity God decided to save some members of the human race and to let
the rest of the human race perish. God
made a choice – he chose some individuals to be saved unto everlasting
blessedness in heaven, and he chose others to pass over, allowing them to
suffer the consequences of their sins, eternal punishment in hell.” (Sproul, What is Reformed Theology, P 141)
So
the Reformed position on salvation is that human will and free choice play no
role whatsoever in the salvation of their soul.
While we might feel as if we freely chose to believe in Christ or
to reject the Gospel, free will is really an illusion and the elect are elect
simply and only because God chose to regenerate them unto belief while passing
over their unbelieving friends and family (more on this in the future
installment on Irresistible Grace).
Sproul takes great pains to explain that this choice is in no way
related to God’s foreknowledge of those who would receive the Gospel and
believe in Christ, despite the fact that the most oft-cited verse in
Scripture dealing with predestination clearly refers to such foreknowledge:
“For
whom He foreknew, He also predestined to be conformed to the image of
His Son, that He might be the firstborn among many brethren. Moreover whom He
predestined, these He also called; whom He called, these He also justified; and
whom He justified, these He also glorified.” (Romans 8:29-30, NKJV)
Sproul
goes on to explain that the doctrine of election is borne out by the fact that
in this passage the word predestined
precedes the word called, yet
somehow, according to Sproul’s convoluted logic, that fact that foreknew precedes predestined in Romans 8 is not semantically important.
The
crux of Sproul’s argument hinges on the assertion that, though the word all does not appear in this passage, the
passage should be read as if it does, so that all He called, He also justified.
Once we do this, of course, we are forced to infer (invent) a mystical internal call that some receive while
others do not, as it is readily apparent that there are some who hear the
external call of Gospel preaching while continuing to reject Christ. The
problem with this idea is that the Bible does not speak of such a call. In fact, in this very same letter to the
Romans, Paul asserts that “faith comes from hearing, and hearing from the Word”
(Romans 10), and uses this argument to underscore the importance of going out
and preaching the Gospel to all men.
Even in the miraculous accounts of Scripture, we see that God calls His
prophets and heroes, not through some mystical, internal feeling, but by
appealing to their senses of sight, hearing and touch – by spoken word, in
visions, by appearing as a burning bush, or a cloud of fire, by striking men
blind, and so on.
We
should reject Sproul’s argument for election / predestination for at least
three reasons:
First,
it is dangerous to assert hidden language in Scripture. The essence of this argument is to suggest
that somehow God’s words were imperfectly transmitted to and recorded by His
chosen authors – an approach that sounds eerily similar to the tactics the
serpent used to deceive Eve in the Garden of Eden ( Genesis 3:1: “Did God
really say…?”).
Second,
it is unfathomable to me how anyone who is not God could dismiss out of hand
the role God’s omniscience and omnipresence might have played in His decision
to create the universe as He did, and might play into His dealings with mankind
and with individual men and women. When
we consider that God is not bound by time (John 8:58, and that there is not a
single thought that goes through our heads or a single word we speak that God
didn’t know about before we were born (Psalm 139), it seems rather foolish to
try and describe His sovereignty apart from these attributes.
Lastly
(for now), the Reformed line of reasoning on this issue fails to take into
account the clear expression in Scripture of God’s desire that, not some,
but all men be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth (1
Timothy 2:4, 2 Peter 3:9). The doctrine
forces upon its adherents a God who is double-minded and says one thing while
doing another – an attribute I would be very hesitant to ascribe to the
Almighty.
The
point that Sproul and others seem to miss in their exegesis of Romans 8:29-30
is that these verses appear, not in the midst of a dissertation on God’s
sovereignty, but in the context of a message of hope to believers who were
suffering cruelly at the hands of their pagan rulers. The point of the passage is not that God
arbitrarily saves some while passing over others, but that God is a God who
makes good on His promises, and that the suffering we endure, whether at the
hands of our cruel neighbors or as a result of our own sinful behavior, pales
when compared to the glory we will witness and the reward we will receive when
our Lord welcomes us into the eternal Kingdom.
In
their argument against any possibility that human free choice plays any part in
their salvation, Reformed apologists often present yet another false dichotomy
in defense of their flawed theology: If
you do not believe in the Calvinist position on election, you must be a
Pelagian or a Semi-Pelagian. Pelagius
was a 4th century philosopher who argued against the doctrine that
original sin has tainted the human race and asserted that it was possible,
however difficult, to lead a sin-free life – an idea clearly refuted in
Scripture (See Romans 5). Semi-Pelagians
are defined as those who believe that, though all are tainted by sin, it is
possible to initiate one’s own salvation by seeking God - even before God seeks
us – again an idea refuted by Scripture (see Romans 3:11). So, according to the Reformed argument, one
must either believe that man has no choice whatsoever as to whether to believe
in Christ; or one must believe that man initiates his own faith in Christ,
rather than responding to Christ initiating a call to us. There is no room for the possibility that God
seeks us out while giving us the freedom to receive or to reject His gracious
offer of salvation.
To
illustrate the ridiculousness of this false dichotomy, and of the Reformed
position on election in general, allow me to paint a scene for you:
You
are a poor working class person in a small town. You have a vague notion that other - perhaps
even wonderful - places exist outside your small world, but the concerns of
day-to-day living have eliminated the possibility of ever visiting any of these
places from your consciousness.
One
day, a close friend confides in you that he or she has been saving money away
and now has enough to go and see Europe! Not only that, but your friend has
enough to take two people and would like for you to come along!
Suddenly,
the possibility of seeing new things opens up before your eyes. After a few
moments’ consideration, you wonder why you are even hesitating and you joyfully
accept your friend’s gracious offer.
Now,
according to Reformed theologians, this scene (as applied to soteriology) could
not possibly play out this way. Either
you are a Pelagian or Semi-Pelagian, in which case the only ways the scene
could have played out is with your either saving your own money to go to
Europe (actually never making it), or with you finding out your friend is going to Europe and begging him
or her to take you there. On the other
hand, if you are rightly Reformed in your thinking, the scene would have played
out with your friend kidnapping you and dragging you to Europe, whether you
wished to go or not (or perhaps would express the fond wish that you could go,
but then purposely schedule the trip at a time when you could not possibly make it).
Acceptance
of the Calvinist doctrine of election leads us to another scary possibility –
one that has been acknowledged by well–respected Reformed scholars, such as
Sproul and J.I. Packer. Since we cannot
know for certain we are elect, we must acknowledge the possibility that we may think
we have saving faith in Christ, when in reality, we do not, and are under a
deluding influence that will hold us blind to our predicament until we face the
throne of judgment and it is too late.
The only way to have at least some assurance in this life, according to
Reformed theology, is to manifest the visible signs of conversion – typically
described in terms of service to Christ and obedience to the moral Law of
God. Since none of us do this perfectly,
none can have perfect assurance of their salvation (more on this in the future
installment on Perseverance of the Saints – the “P” in the TULIP).
My
friends, you do not have to go through life worrying about whether you are one
of the elect or whether you are just a fake believer. The Bible offers simple assurance to those
who wish to spend eternity in the presence of the Lord:
When
the Philippian jailer became aware that his sinful actions had incurred God’s
wrath, he fell on his face and asked the question of Paul and Silas “Sirs; what
must I do to be saved?” They replied
“Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and you will be saved, you and your
household.” (Acts 16). Peter offered the
same simple formula to the Jews who had realized that they had crucified their
own Messiah. The letter to the Hebrews
defines faith very simply as “assurance of things not seen.”
If
you are here reading this today, chances are that you already recognize that
you are an imperfect sinner. This is a
part of repentance, but not the whole thing.
We can resolve to do better in the future – to avoid sin and live
better. This is a form of repentance,
but it is not the repentance of which Peter spoke in Acts 2. True repentance involves recognizing that we
are really sinful inside and out, and that we cannot be good enough to earn a
place in heaven. True repentance
involves changing our mind about our own goodness and recognizing that we need
a savior. True repentance involves changing
our mind about who Christ is and recognizing that He is Lord and Savior – and
placing our trust completely in Him and our eternal destiny in His hands
alone. If we have done this, Christ
Himself says that we already have eternal life (John 3:16, 5:24).
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