I do have people I care about whom, so it seems, were not predestined to be Calvinists. Or at least, they haven’t accepted John Calvin into their heart just yet. These friends of mine really do love Jesus, and I love them. I am ready to share tears of joy alongside them at the Pearly Gates when our eyes will be opened to see the extent of the vast and meticulous sovereignty of our Lord. If God so wills that that moment for them does not happen until they walk through the Gates of Pearl, I am content. And, I believe, their work and ministry on this side of the grave will be strapped with rocket boosters if they acknowledge God’s soteriological and cosmological sovereignty all on their own free will.
With all seriousness and lightness of heart, I would like to sprinkle a few Calvinistic crumbs on this digital page. “What’s the point?” The Arminian will ask, “If I’m predestined to not be a Calvinist, why are we talking about this? Actually, why talk about anything? If God already predetermined everything, there’s nothing we can do. Why even preach the Gospel?”
Well, first of all, being a Calvinist is not the same thing as being a Fatalist. You see, fatalism tries to keep the characters out of the story, putting them on the same plane as the playwright. Fatalism, that fatal dogma teaching that everything is inevitable so there’s no point, limits the playwright’s omnipotence in the story to only the outcomes and not the means. As if the characters are a part of the audience watching the story unfold on them, instead of being written into the story. But the author doesn’t just determine what happens, he gets to decide how it happens. And a good author keeps it interesting.
Second, I don’t understand all the magic workings of the Maker. I’m not told to understand it all. But I am told to believe it. If God predestines the outcomes and destinations of men, surely, he predestines how they arrive there. That’s why we speak, and write, and work. In obedience, by faith, we trust that God will use our labors and our words the way He best sees fit. So, I do not intend to waste my time waxing philosophical, while existing in a fatalistic world. Maybe the Lord did determine some Arminians to become Calvinists, and he intends to use some mediocre blog post to pull them toward the truth. Or maybe not. I don’t know. If this post convinces no one of anything (which is more than likely), that is A-okay with me. At the very least I hope it will serve to honor the Maker and encourage myself. God is infinite, and so is the honor due to Him. I am finite and ever in need of encouragement. Hence, my effort to write about the basics of reformed soteriology.
God’s sovereign grace fills up libraries. These treasures of truth are intricate and encompassing to talk about, while at the same time simple and not complicated to accept. Like a potent and pressed vitamin, you simply receive it and it works its magic. We can start by reminding ourselves that God is the creator and ruler of the cosmos. If he is sovereign over cosmology, then of course He is sovereign over soteriology. The Bible says so about both. Easy and done. Swallow the vitamin. But there are questions. So, perhaps a more intimate and personal starting point would be appropriate.
When we discuss the salvation of man, we start with the obvious fact of him needing to be saved. The question in disagreement is what is his condition and what is he in need of? Is this sinner hanging off the precipice over the pit of hell, with one hand gripping the stone above and one dangling lose? Is Jesus the pilot in the helicopter with the rope thrown out calling out to the fool on the cliff to grab the rope? I think that would be a simplified but fair assessment of the Arminian’s description of man’s state before regeneration. God gives every person an equal chance to grab the rope, equipping every person with the ability to do so (they call it prevenient grace and extend it to all mankind), and it’s up to that person to reach out and grab it.
If the condition of man can be compared to dangling off the cliff, then I think the Arminian’s assessment of God’s involvement in salvation perhaps has merit. That’s why understanding man’s unregenerate state is an important aspect to consider when contemplating God’s salvation of mankind. To that end, I think I can squeeze some more juice out of this proverbial analogy.
If salvation is the helicopter, Jesus is the pilot extending the rope to us, and being a dead sinner means you’re dangling over the pit of hell, then repentance is choosing to grab the rope. Logical. Rational. Makes sense.
But the imagery that we find in God’s word describing the condition of the unregenerate man is not that of dangling on the precipice of hell. The Bible regards the condition of man as already fallen and dead. He is not hanging on the cliff contemplating whether or not to grab the rope. He is dead and unresponsive. Sure, let’s keep the helicopter, and the pilot, and the rope. But the rope is floating above his lifeless head, smacking him back and forth across his face, and he is unable to grab it because he is dead.
Before we can effectually discuss God’s soteriological involvement, we need to understand that apart from God’s direct intervention, man is dead. Not about to die. Not dying. Dead. If you see him walking, it’s a dead man walking. Zombies are real.
“The natural person does not accept the things of the Spirit of God, for they are folly to him, and he is not able to understand them because they are spiritually discerned.” – 1-Cor. 2:14, ESV
The natural person is incapable to understand the things of the Spirit of God. Grabbing the rope is not a matter of persuasion. The guy is dead. The required remedy is resurrection.
We find different components of soteriology in Scripture: repentance, faith, grace, substitutional atonement, regeneration, justification, and so on. We try to fit them all together, like a scientist compounding a chemical formula. But the blessing of our faith is that it is not speculative. It is revelatory. The object of our faith is revealed to us in God’s word. When God reveals His truth to us, we first accept and believe it, and then try to put the pieces together. Perhaps as we do that, we come to realize that some of our original understanding needs to be corrected. All is good. What we shouldn’t do is accept half of God’s revelation and avoid the parts we don’t understand. We don’t build our formula based on our speculative reason, and then avoid the truths of Scripture that don’t fit in nicely.
When we hear it said that man is incapable of choosing God, our mind instantly jumps to condemning God for His injustice, shaking the foundations of our faith. There’s too much at stake, so we backtrack and steer away from discussing man’s depravity. We don’t understand the truth, so we deny it. But understanding and discernment don’t lead to life in the Spirit. They follow it.
So, there needs to be a time when man makes his choice to reach out and grab the rope. Okay. I’m good with that. Man is also dead at the bottom of the pit. So, what do we do? We listen to Jesus.
“Jesus answered him, ‘Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born again he cannot see the kingdom of God.’” – John 3:3, ESV
Our pilot calls out to the dead man to grab the rope. The dead man is unresponsive. He’s dead. So, the pilot gets out of the helicopter, descends down to the dead man, and breathes new life into him. Then, with the Spirit of God in his lungs, the resurrected man reaches out and grabs the rope. First, he is given new life (not prevenient grace, but irresistible, saving grace), making him capable of repentance and turning to Christ. And then, he repents by grabbing the rope.
Dead men can’t choose life. Regeneration is not brought about by our repentance. Our repentance is an outcome of God’s work of regeneration.
