Calvin’s Razor

If the Bible is one thing, it is God-centric. The hero of the Bible is not man, but God. God does the action; even when we do the action, he takes credit for it. Why? For his own glory.

We like to humanize God, and as a result we have a hard time dealing with this. God, it would seem, is an egotist. As it turns out, he almost has to be, by definition. Still, it is uncomfortable to admit that all good things come through God. Even the ones that come through us.

And that, I believe, is why people are uncomfortable with Calvinism. I have written on the supposed 5 points, as summarized in the acronym TULIP previously, to the ire of some. Even in the old post, my current malaise could be seen brewing.

A few disclaimers:
1) Terms like “current” in describing my immediate mental state have an exceptionally short shelf life. Almost no particular state lasts longer than two weeks – in fact, this one seems to be coming to an end as we speak. Which is good, because it was miserable.

2) I’ve fought it for years, but there’s no denying it. Reformed Theology, with its easy to remember TULIP heralding a rich tapestry of ever complex theological concepts, is biblically irrefutable. I’ve taken various stands against it for years; I was still holding out on the P up until sometime within the last two years, as evidenced by the link above. That too is falling if it hasn’t already fallen.

3) While my new church, SPEP, is reformed – which in this context is synonymous with “accepts the Westminster Confession of Faith” – they do not explicitly teach TULIP, the five Solas or whatever else. Now, being a Bible church, they end up teaching it implicitly. You’d have to take special effort to avoid those principles, as they are there, omnipresent within the Bible.

Now then.

For whom did Christ die?

Sounds like an easy enough question. Surely, you’d think, Christ, almighty and all-merciful, died for everyone.

And yet everyone is not saved. So, did he fail in his plan?

Really, what does it mean to “die for someone” anyway? Were I to jump in front of a train to knock you off the tracks (in case you didn’t hear it coming, which is hard, because trains are gigantic), then I’d die for you, in particular. Christ’s death for us falls into the category of an atoning sacrifice – an offering for all of our sins, fulfilled in his blood. Again, it comes down to “whose sins”. For whom did Christ die? For everyone, or for the elect?

TULIP stands upon two pillars, T and L. The L, Limited Atonement, claims that Christ died for those are are to be saved. I’m going to defer to the excellent teacher John Piper for an explanation of how that follows – it’s a waypoint but not the end of where I’m flying my plane of thought today. Through Limited Atonement, you get the idea that Christ died for those whom he would save.

Total Depravity, meanwhile, says that we are not capable of saving ourselves. Limited Atonement and Total Depravity, if I might steal from Piper, fit together thusly:

“If you say that he died for every human being in the same way, then you have to define the nature of the atonement very differently than you would if you believed that Christ only died for those who actually believe. In the first case you would believe that the death of Christ did not actually save anybody; it only made all men savable. It did not actually remove God’s punitive wrath from anyone, but instead created a place where people could come and find mercy — IF they could accomplish their own new birth and bring themselves to faith without the irresistible grace of God.

For if Christ died for all men in the same way then he did not purchase regenerating grace for those who are saved. They must regenerate themselves and bring themselves to faith. Then and only then do they become partakers of the benefits of the cross.”

If you take T, which makes the above scenario impossible, and L to be true, the rest is falls in line. Unconditional Election falls out of T – it would have to be unconditional given our initial state. Irresistible Grace flows out of the L (God already knows who), and also from the T (better not let it be resistible, because we’d resist it). Perseverance of the Saints arises, by my mathematical formulation, from a combination of U and I.

Like people, however, Limited Atonement comes with baggage. For instance, if God predestines some for salvation, he must, almost, by the Venn Diagram, predestine others for damnation. This concept is termed “Double Predestination”, and it is sufficiently disconcerting that it’s on my to-study list. Then there’s one of the fanciest words I’ve yet been exposed to, courtesy of McCoy, “supralapsarianism”. Here’s an excellent link describing this tangled nest of theological paradoxes – in essence that particular set of concepts relates to the timing of God’s unachronistic (my own word) decisions on who is saved, whether some will be created solely for the sake of being sent to hell and whatnot. A royal mess, and more than I can wrap my head around to be certain.

But that was not my issue these past few weeks. My issue was more basic.

God choses some for mercy, others face wrath. They have no say in the matter.

Can you ever really know that you’re saved?

You can know, through the P, that once you’re saved, you’re always saved. But Calvinists, and most other Christians, will always point to the circular “well, then he must not have ever really been saved in the first place” if a supposed Christian falls away. There’s no avoiding it – I’m not sure that it’s possible to know in this lifetime.

We’re supposed to adjudicate our salvation based on our “fruit”, but yet, that’s subjective. Doubt clouds not only our faith in most anything, but also the understanding of the worthiness of our fruits – especially since the entire theology would point to our intrinsic unworthiness. It is a tangled mess. And I’ve more or less given up on trying to synthesize it into a coherent structure at the moment. That was my answer this morning.

This too shall pass.

When we are perfected, not only will whatever it is that holds us back from a full life be forever cast asunder, but our doubts and fears will be summarily dismissed. On that day, it will all make sense. Here’s to hoping we make it there, for now all we have is to trust and obey. I’m sorry my answer isn’t more profound. The question is profound enough on its own.

Advertisement