Yes, you read that right. By .38 Special, I'm referring to the southern rock band of the 80's heyday. Do you have a particular song in mind? Keep it there, and read on. Most readers know that Calvinism is a rather robust (and controversial) theology which emphasizes the authority of Scripture and the sovereignty of God in election and history. Some Calvinists believe in free will (Thomistic Calvinist scholastics of the post-Reformation era of the (late) 16th and 17th centuries, while others deny free will, holding to the doctrine of Total Depravity and hence the bondage of the human will in sin, which serves to allow only the grace of God in the regenerating power of the Holy Spirit to set people free from such bondage; this regeneration is by the grace of God and is done according to God's eternal decree to save the elect. Still other Calvinists, like Calvin himself -who if ever there was a Calvinist, it was John Calvin* - and Herman Bavinck, hold that while other theories of God's sovereignty in election and history lack Scriptural and philosophical veracity, admit that we must be content with the concept of mystery. Contemporary Reformed theologian John H. Armstrong seems comfortable with this view of mystery as well (from correspondence on Facebook).
Hold on Loosely, But Don't Let Go. It's a catchy tune. Can we learn theology from it? Well, no--we can't "learn" theology from it, but we can apply this as an axiom for ourselves regarding "epistemic status." Epistemic status is simply the degree to which a person holds certain beliefs. I might hold the belief that the Detroit Tigers are the best team in the Major Leagues, but then I'd have to contend with other teams that seem to be, or are argued by others to be, just as good, if not better. Perhaps then, my epistemic status of the Tigers as the best team in baseball is defeated, by the counter-argument. The counter-argument is that the St. Louis Cardinals are just as good (if not better) than the Tigers. I'm at a standby. I see the argument for the Cardinals is rationally compelling, even though it's not airtight. Still, it causes me enough internal trouble to have to reconsider my argument concerning the Tigers. Through this process of "defeasible reasoning," I must reconstitute my argument. Now, perhaps I argue that the Tigers are the best team in the AL. If that doesn't work, then maybe I contend that they are the best team in the AL East. If that doesn't work, then I've done and lost. Maybe they're the best team in Michigan. But that isn't saying much. At this point, I'd not have an argument that the Tigers are the "best" anything of real significance. My epistemic status of holding that the Tigers are the best team in baseball has suffered great peril, much like the Orcs and Uruk Hai after the Battle of Helm's Deep. Thank Eru for the Ents.
Calvinism then. Let us say that in order to be a Calvinist, one must hold that the Scripture is the primary epistemic authority, and such a theory of knowledge brings with it the concepts typical to Calvinism - sovereignty over history and election, and the supreme limits of human free will, and the concept of mystery in all of this. No doubt many Calvinists (and ~non) find their emotions troubled as they try to resolve the problem of divine foreknowledge and human responsibility (DF/HR). I certainly have. It can be rather vexing, to say the least. Suppose then, the Calvinist remembers that there is a concept called Mere Christianity, popularized by literary giant C.S. Lewis, and said Calvinist is reminded of an ecumenical creed such as the Apostle's Creed. The Apostle's Creed offers a full assurance of doctrine and life i.e. Trinity, Incarnation, Atonement, Resurrection (the "great things of the gospel" noted by philosopher Alvin Plantinga), but it does not speak to things like DF/HR. Now suppose this person is attracted to the Apostle's Creed both for its depth and simplicity, and its avoidance of such mind-bending issues like DF/HR. Or, suppose the Calvinist still holds to the beliefs of Calvinism, and is happy to live by the axiom of mystery in DF/HR.
It would seem, then, that 'mystery' is a good way to Hold on Loosely, But Don't Let Go when it comes to Calvinism. Given mystery, the epistemic status of Calvinism's view on DF/HR is therefore 'held in check' and has the freedom to both wax and wane in the cognitive apparatus of the one holding to such a system of belief. The status of the belief therefore may experience periods of doubt "How can this be?" (waning), or it may experience periods of great confidence "The Lord is sovereign!" (waxing). When the Calvinist belief of DF/HR waxes, the person S who holds to this system of thought may experience the emotional trouble of the concept of determinism, and this in turn may cause S experience doubts about God's goodness. The epistemic status of DF/HR then shifts to the other end of the spectrum of doubt. However, person S is reminded of the Scripture's clear case of the sovereign power of God to bring all things to pass according to his eternal decree, then finds "cognitive rest" in holding loosely to the Calvinist approach to DF/HR. By holding it loosely i.e. "in check," S is again reminded that another clear teaching of Scripture is that human beings are most certainly responsible before God for their actions. This concept of responsibility therefore reminds S of the concept of mystery. (This includes God's sovereignty over natural phenomena as well). The result is a happy one: emotional satisfaction that one has done one's intellectual duty in analyzing the different views of DF/HR, and avoiding both extremes of determinism and supreme, human autonomy.
*This funny quip comes from Alvin Plantinga's article, "The Reformed Objection to Natural Theology."
Showing posts with label Calvinism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Calvinism. Show all posts
Thursday, May 29, 2014
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Telling God Off
Of the two people among the many to whom I fessed up, she is one who offers a terrible, yet similar story. The other is my lovely wife, who consoles me with kind assurance. And yet, prior to that, her look had said, “That’s ridiculous.” Everyone else grimaces, quivers their lip, or gives a look of fright. None of them sets forth any condemnation. But the looks and expressions: “Wow” is one. “No, I’ve never done that. I’d be too scared,” says the other. “Oh,” says yet another. Finally, one cocks his head to the side and purses his lips in an awkward angle of mishap. He says nothing at first, before offering a note of comfort from a similar, yet less bold experience. "In Hebrew," he says, "There is no 'Why?' There is only 'For what reason?'" He repeats. "There is no 'Why?'" The significance of this escapes me....
But the terrible, yet similar story was this: she had been abused by her father as a girl. In every way. “Physically, emotionally, verbally and sexually,” she said. Sexually. Her father! I would never have known. “Leave me alone,” she said, to her Father. (I've not had such an awful experience at all, actually. My parents didn't abuse me in any way).
Here is the similarity: “Leave me alone,” I say. “I’m done with you. I can’t do this anymore.” Without missing a beat: “No no no, I don’t mean that…” Justification of self, lament, and real honest opinion ensue from there. “I’m just having a hard time, here.” I’ve told God to take a hike. Now, three months later, I’m feeling guilt, shame, remorse, and a deep, deep, dread. It’s the dread you feel when that careless driver almost kills you and your children, and you draw mental pictures, and sense with real feeling what it would be like to lose your children because of some idiot's recklessness. “I don’t mean that God. I don’t want to go to hell. Don’t abandon me. Please. Please don’t. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.” Tears. Fear and tears, and despair. “Please just tell me you love me. Tell me I’m yours. Tell me that you’ll never let me go. God, I’m sorry.”
My wife wakes up that morning with a red spot on her belly—her seven-month pregnant belly. It's red with a white dot in the middle. Lyme disease. I knew it. She’s been bitten by a tick. I should have never moved my family to North Carolina. Not near the number of ticks in Michigan. She’ll never finish pharmacy school, and she’ll be chronically ill, and I’ll be stuck working at this warehouse making $11 an hour and we’ll be in the poorhouse forever. I’ve just gotten back from a life-shattering trip to Ethiopia, helping HIV/AIDS victims, lepers, widows, orphans. Rape victims. “Daddy are you ok?” my daughter asks upon my arrival. I’m on my hands and knees on the living room floor, convulsing with shaking grief, amd tears streaming down my face, with snot-filled sinuses swelling my head like a balloon. “No, honey. I’m not ok,” I’d say, through a lens of water. Trying to look at her, her image swims and fades through the watery lens of my eyes. No honey. Daddy's not ok.
I’ve seen things that are rarely seen: a naked man on a street begging for food. A blind man doing the same. A legless man doing the same. A woman with babies doing the same (she may have stolen them for this use). I’ve seen a woman whose husband gave her AIDS and left her. I’ve heard of a nine-year-old girl who has been raped and sent to the hospital for surgery. Nine! Now, our family dreams of trying to build a better life are gone. My wife will get sick, and I won’t be able to get a job. I went to school for pastoral training, and can’t find good work in the secular world. Even if I am to be a pastor, who can do that with a sick wife? Not me, that’s for damned sure. Get some high-paying job. But what? More school, that’s what. And then try to find a job in my mid 40’s. Mid 40’s and no experience in anything but odds and ends. What, do I have to go to medical school to make a decent living? Bunk!
Then I say it. Now, months later, guilt like a heavy, lead-filled blanket lay on my back. Have I committed the unforgivable sin? Have I blasphemed the Holy Spirit? A study of the Bible says no, but there it is: guilt and shame. How could God love me after I say this to him? What greater sin is there than telling God to get lost? Life has lost its meaning.
“Chris, I’ve said that to God before too,” she says. When her dad was abusing her, the only hope she had was her grandmother. Grandma was it: her only comfort and consolation. Then she dies. Twelve-years old, abused and with only one friend. Now that friend is gone. Taken. “Leave me alone,” she says to God. But now things are different…
God as Father is not easy for me. I usually cringe when people smile and say, “God loves you.” It’s so sappy. These people don’t know any theology, or logic, or philosophy. They hardly even know their Bibles. The God of the Bible is love yes. God is love. I affirm that. I believe that. I live that! But the God of the Bible is a fierce, mighty, king-warrior, who warns his people time and again. Don’t become proud or arrogant, or you too will be cut off (Romans 11). If you don’t forgive others their sins, my heavenly father will not forgive you yours (Matthew 6). And Jesus in John 15 says that the branches in the vine that don’t bear fruit are cut off and thrown into the fire. There’s the whole book of Hebrews, and so on. Scary, right? Yes!
I decided to read Job. I came across chapter seven, verse 16. Job is complaining to God. Making sure I have the context right, I read slowly. Job here is complaining to God. Now, I’ve been so desperate to not just know I’m forgiven, but to feel it.
“Does God forgive me?” I ask my friends.
“I don’t give absolutions,” says one.
“But the Bible says if we confess our sins he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness, right?”
“Yes it does. So on that, you’re forgiven.”
I want to know God loves me, and believe it, and I want to sense it in the innermost core of my being. That God the Father loves me seems unlikely. Jesus? Of course. But God the Father? Not so sure. But Jesus says in John 17 that he and the Father are one, and that the Father loves those who are in Jesus. So the Father loves me. Jesus is the express image of God the Father, so God the Father loves me. He loves me. This may seem simple to you, but it’s not to me. It’s not simple at all. I’m not worthy of his love (none of us are), and God the Father has seemed very distant to me (here’s where you ask me about my relationship with my dad). But I want to know his love for me deep down….
My boss finds me the other day at my workstation in the back of the warehouse, to bring me a gift card. He notices my eyes are wet. I tell him why (we go to church together). Says I, “Sometimes I just don’t know if God really loves me.” You can see now, it’s an issue.
So Job. Job is suffering a great deal. You know the story. He’s lost everything: his family (save his wife--and she’s no help) his wealth and his health. He’s in physical, emotional, mental and spiritual pain. I have been loathing my words to God: “Leave me alone.” People that murder tell others to get lost, but I have told God to get lost. People that curse God don’t command him to leave—they just scream at his ever-present face. But, I have asked God to leave me alone. What could be worse (So I thought)? I spend my lunch hour in prayer, asking God to be my Father, asking him for a sign. I've resorted to such measures as asking for a sign. Oh yes, the theologian, the exegete, the philosopher, the critical thinker, the "Scripture is sufficient" mantra. Asking for a sign from God!
Then I read these words of Job: “Therefore I will not restrain my mouth; I will speak in the anguish of my spirit; I will complain in the bitterness of my soul,” (7:11). Then verse 16: “Leave me alone, for my days are a breath.”
“Leave me alone.” What? Have I read this right? Check the context. Is he talking to his friends? No, the context is that he is talking to God. “You scare me with dreams and terrify me with visions” (v.14). That’s God. “What is man that you make so much of him, and that you set your heart on him, visit him every morning and test him every moment?” (v.18). That’s God. “If I sin, what do I do to you, you watcher of mankind?” (v.20a). That’s definitely God. Ah!
The relief I feel is a wave of calm. My sin is not unique. My sin is not beyond forgiveness. I have this in common with Job. This is a good sign, right here in Scripture. The mantra holds.
Yes, I love you, he says. You are forgiven, and I love you. Never will I leave you, never will I forsake you. God does love me. He loves me and I love him. My Father loves me. I can say that. I can begin to feel that. Release.
But the terrible, yet similar story was this: she had been abused by her father as a girl. In every way. “Physically, emotionally, verbally and sexually,” she said. Sexually. Her father! I would never have known. “Leave me alone,” she said, to her Father. (I've not had such an awful experience at all, actually. My parents didn't abuse me in any way).
Here is the similarity: “Leave me alone,” I say. “I’m done with you. I can’t do this anymore.” Without missing a beat: “No no no, I don’t mean that…” Justification of self, lament, and real honest opinion ensue from there. “I’m just having a hard time, here.” I’ve told God to take a hike. Now, three months later, I’m feeling guilt, shame, remorse, and a deep, deep, dread. It’s the dread you feel when that careless driver almost kills you and your children, and you draw mental pictures, and sense with real feeling what it would be like to lose your children because of some idiot's recklessness. “I don’t mean that God. I don’t want to go to hell. Don’t abandon me. Please. Please don’t. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.” Tears. Fear and tears, and despair. “Please just tell me you love me. Tell me I’m yours. Tell me that you’ll never let me go. God, I’m sorry.”
My wife wakes up that morning with a red spot on her belly—her seven-month pregnant belly. It's red with a white dot in the middle. Lyme disease. I knew it. She’s been bitten by a tick. I should have never moved my family to North Carolina. Not near the number of ticks in Michigan. She’ll never finish pharmacy school, and she’ll be chronically ill, and I’ll be stuck working at this warehouse making $11 an hour and we’ll be in the poorhouse forever. I’ve just gotten back from a life-shattering trip to Ethiopia, helping HIV/AIDS victims, lepers, widows, orphans. Rape victims. “Daddy are you ok?” my daughter asks upon my arrival. I’m on my hands and knees on the living room floor, convulsing with shaking grief, amd tears streaming down my face, with snot-filled sinuses swelling my head like a balloon. “No, honey. I’m not ok,” I’d say, through a lens of water. Trying to look at her, her image swims and fades through the watery lens of my eyes. No honey. Daddy's not ok.
I’ve seen things that are rarely seen: a naked man on a street begging for food. A blind man doing the same. A legless man doing the same. A woman with babies doing the same (she may have stolen them for this use). I’ve seen a woman whose husband gave her AIDS and left her. I’ve heard of a nine-year-old girl who has been raped and sent to the hospital for surgery. Nine! Now, our family dreams of trying to build a better life are gone. My wife will get sick, and I won’t be able to get a job. I went to school for pastoral training, and can’t find good work in the secular world. Even if I am to be a pastor, who can do that with a sick wife? Not me, that’s for damned sure. Get some high-paying job. But what? More school, that’s what. And then try to find a job in my mid 40’s. Mid 40’s and no experience in anything but odds and ends. What, do I have to go to medical school to make a decent living? Bunk!
Then I say it. Now, months later, guilt like a heavy, lead-filled blanket lay on my back. Have I committed the unforgivable sin? Have I blasphemed the Holy Spirit? A study of the Bible says no, but there it is: guilt and shame. How could God love me after I say this to him? What greater sin is there than telling God to get lost? Life has lost its meaning.
“Chris, I’ve said that to God before too,” she says. When her dad was abusing her, the only hope she had was her grandmother. Grandma was it: her only comfort and consolation. Then she dies. Twelve-years old, abused and with only one friend. Now that friend is gone. Taken. “Leave me alone,” she says to God. But now things are different…
God as Father is not easy for me. I usually cringe when people smile and say, “God loves you.” It’s so sappy. These people don’t know any theology, or logic, or philosophy. They hardly even know their Bibles. The God of the Bible is love yes. God is love. I affirm that. I believe that. I live that! But the God of the Bible is a fierce, mighty, king-warrior, who warns his people time and again. Don’t become proud or arrogant, or you too will be cut off (Romans 11). If you don’t forgive others their sins, my heavenly father will not forgive you yours (Matthew 6). And Jesus in John 15 says that the branches in the vine that don’t bear fruit are cut off and thrown into the fire. There’s the whole book of Hebrews, and so on. Scary, right? Yes!
I decided to read Job. I came across chapter seven, verse 16. Job is complaining to God. Making sure I have the context right, I read slowly. Job here is complaining to God. Now, I’ve been so desperate to not just know I’m forgiven, but to feel it.
“Does God forgive me?” I ask my friends.
“I don’t give absolutions,” says one.
“But the Bible says if we confess our sins he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness, right?”
“Yes it does. So on that, you’re forgiven.”
I want to know God loves me, and believe it, and I want to sense it in the innermost core of my being. That God the Father loves me seems unlikely. Jesus? Of course. But God the Father? Not so sure. But Jesus says in John 17 that he and the Father are one, and that the Father loves those who are in Jesus. So the Father loves me. Jesus is the express image of God the Father, so God the Father loves me. He loves me. This may seem simple to you, but it’s not to me. It’s not simple at all. I’m not worthy of his love (none of us are), and God the Father has seemed very distant to me (here’s where you ask me about my relationship with my dad). But I want to know his love for me deep down….
My boss finds me the other day at my workstation in the back of the warehouse, to bring me a gift card. He notices my eyes are wet. I tell him why (we go to church together). Says I, “Sometimes I just don’t know if God really loves me.” You can see now, it’s an issue.
So Job. Job is suffering a great deal. You know the story. He’s lost everything: his family (save his wife--and she’s no help) his wealth and his health. He’s in physical, emotional, mental and spiritual pain. I have been loathing my words to God: “Leave me alone.” People that murder tell others to get lost, but I have told God to get lost. People that curse God don’t command him to leave—they just scream at his ever-present face. But, I have asked God to leave me alone. What could be worse (So I thought)? I spend my lunch hour in prayer, asking God to be my Father, asking him for a sign. I've resorted to such measures as asking for a sign. Oh yes, the theologian, the exegete, the philosopher, the critical thinker, the "Scripture is sufficient" mantra. Asking for a sign from God!
Then I read these words of Job: “Therefore I will not restrain my mouth; I will speak in the anguish of my spirit; I will complain in the bitterness of my soul,” (7:11). Then verse 16: “Leave me alone, for my days are a breath.”
“Leave me alone.” What? Have I read this right? Check the context. Is he talking to his friends? No, the context is that he is talking to God. “You scare me with dreams and terrify me with visions” (v.14). That’s God. “What is man that you make so much of him, and that you set your heart on him, visit him every morning and test him every moment?” (v.18). That’s God. “If I sin, what do I do to you, you watcher of mankind?” (v.20a). That’s definitely God. Ah!
The relief I feel is a wave of calm. My sin is not unique. My sin is not beyond forgiveness. I have this in common with Job. This is a good sign, right here in Scripture. The mantra holds.
Yes, I love you, he says. You are forgiven, and I love you. Never will I leave you, never will I forsake you. God does love me. He loves me and I love him. My Father loves me. I can say that. I can begin to feel that. Release.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Evangelism and 5 Point Calvinism
Or, "How to witness for Jesus to a total stranger and not feel like you are lying to them when you tell them God loves them and that Jesus died for them, even though you don't know if they're elect."
Or, "How to tell someone that Jesus died for them."
Calvinists haven't always been the greatest at evangelism. At least not since the days of Edwards, Whitefield, Judson and the great missionaries of the 18th and 19th centuries (David Livingston "Dr. Livingston, I presume?", William Carey and David Brainerd are other Calvinist missionaries of renown).
But, hold on. Calvinists may travel land and sea to make a convert, but will they tell the cashier at the gas station that Jesus loves them? Not so much. Why? Well, that's because of the 5 points. The 5 points are Total Depravity, Unconditional Election, Irresistible Grace, Limited Atonement, and Perseverance of the Saints. The problems are bent mostly on Unconditional Election and Limited Atonement.
Let's just take a closer look at Limited Atonement. This doctrine teaches (rightly, I believe) that Jesus' death on the cross--his atonement--fully pays for all of this sins of his elect, his chosen people. That is, the atonement actually, and fully saves them. It is the atonement that saves, and nothing else. No human work or decision or act of the will, but only the atonement, and it fully saves to the uttermost: "He was put to death for our sins and raised to life for our justification," (Romans 4:25). A comforting doctrine for those who belong to him.
But that means that Jesus didn't die for everyone, or that possibly his atonement is sufficient for all, but efficient for the elect only. That is, the atonement is applied only to God's elect. So, if Joe Schmoe behind the counter isn't one of God's elect, Jesus didn't really die for him--or--Jesus' atonement was sufficient for Joe, but the Father has no intention of applying the sacrifice of his son to Joe. Joe isn't elect, and Joe denies Christ. Joe is lost.
But surely a good Christian would want to tell Joe about the good news? What then? Well, Calvinists have typically told the good news impersonally: "Joe, I have good news for you."
"What's that?"
"Christ died for his own people."
"Okay."
"Yes, he did. And if you repent and believe, you will be saved."
"Okay."
That's how it's done. You see, the Calvinist doesn't know if Joe is elect, so he can't tell him that God loves him, because the Calvinist might be lying to Joe. He might be stating a falsehood and misrepresenting God himself. The Calvinist doesn't want to do that! So he speaks in the 3rd person: "Christ died for his own."
That's not too personal, is it?
If you read my previous post, you read how I told a total stranger in an Ethiopian gift shop--a Muslim girl--that Jesus died for her. How can I do that and not be lying, or guessing? After all, I believe in election and in limited atonement.
Here's how. And I thank my good friend Norman Shepherd, a retired Calvinist theologian and pastor for helping me out in this. In his book, "The Call of Grace," he tackles this problem head on. The problem is that Calvinists have wrongly interpreted the Scriptures through the lens of the 5 points when it comes to evangelism. Instead they should interpret the Scriptures through the lens of covenant.
Norman tells me in a personal conversation, that you start with the story of Scripture, and the story of the covenants of God. First, Adam broke covenant with God and lost fellowship with him by sinning in the garden. But God had a plan. Many years later, God made a covenant with Abraham, that through Abraham's seed (Christ [Galatians 3:16]) God would bless all the nations of the earth (Genesis 12:3). Then the Lord created a special people all unto his own: the nation of Israel. He saved them from slavery in Egypt. Then, the Lord destroyed the wicked nations of the land of Canaan (don't tell Christopher Hitchens and gang about that), and gave the land to Israel. He gave them the law through Moses, but the people rebelled against God. But God still had a plan. He brought his people to himself through Judges, and kings, and he gave Israel King David. Still the people rebelled, and God sent his people into exile. But God brought his people back to the land of Israel and in the fullness of time, Jesus came....
Jesus is the Messiah of Israel. Jesus is the Lord from heaven, and he has come to bring not just the Jews, but all nations to himself and to God the Father. Jesus tells his followers to go into all the nations and preach the gospel and to teach all the nations to obey Jesus and be baptized into his name. Jesus has died for the sins of the world, not just Jews. "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten son, that whoever believes in him will not perish but have everlasting life." Jesus said this to a Jewish teacher, Nicodemus.
So you tell this to Joe. And Joe says, "I'm not a Jew. You're telling me that Jesus is my Messiah too? Jesus died for me too?"
And what will you say?
I've had Calvinists tell me that I am not qualified, and neither are they, nor is anyone else, to tell a total stranger that Jesus died for them. They act this way because they look at life through the lens of the doctrine of divine decrees (election), and not through the story of the Bible--the doctrine of the covenant. God has made a covenant not with Israel, but with all nations--the world. This is why, when we read the "all" passages and the "world" passages, that Calvinists should not be threatened, because they read these texts through the covenantal lens, not the electionist lens.
So yes, Joe: Jesus died for you. Repent and believe and be baptized and you will be saved.
Or, "How to tell someone that Jesus died for them."
Calvinists haven't always been the greatest at evangelism. At least not since the days of Edwards, Whitefield, Judson and the great missionaries of the 18th and 19th centuries (David Livingston "Dr. Livingston, I presume?", William Carey and David Brainerd are other Calvinist missionaries of renown).
But, hold on. Calvinists may travel land and sea to make a convert, but will they tell the cashier at the gas station that Jesus loves them? Not so much. Why? Well, that's because of the 5 points. The 5 points are Total Depravity, Unconditional Election, Irresistible Grace, Limited Atonement, and Perseverance of the Saints. The problems are bent mostly on Unconditional Election and Limited Atonement.
Let's just take a closer look at Limited Atonement. This doctrine teaches (rightly, I believe) that Jesus' death on the cross--his atonement--fully pays for all of this sins of his elect, his chosen people. That is, the atonement actually, and fully saves them. It is the atonement that saves, and nothing else. No human work or decision or act of the will, but only the atonement, and it fully saves to the uttermost: "He was put to death for our sins and raised to life for our justification," (Romans 4:25). A comforting doctrine for those who belong to him.
But that means that Jesus didn't die for everyone, or that possibly his atonement is sufficient for all, but efficient for the elect only. That is, the atonement is applied only to God's elect. So, if Joe Schmoe behind the counter isn't one of God's elect, Jesus didn't really die for him--or--Jesus' atonement was sufficient for Joe, but the Father has no intention of applying the sacrifice of his son to Joe. Joe isn't elect, and Joe denies Christ. Joe is lost.
But surely a good Christian would want to tell Joe about the good news? What then? Well, Calvinists have typically told the good news impersonally: "Joe, I have good news for you."
"What's that?"
"Christ died for his own people."
"Okay."
"Yes, he did. And if you repent and believe, you will be saved."
"Okay."
That's how it's done. You see, the Calvinist doesn't know if Joe is elect, so he can't tell him that God loves him, because the Calvinist might be lying to Joe. He might be stating a falsehood and misrepresenting God himself. The Calvinist doesn't want to do that! So he speaks in the 3rd person: "Christ died for his own."
That's not too personal, is it?
If you read my previous post, you read how I told a total stranger in an Ethiopian gift shop--a Muslim girl--that Jesus died for her. How can I do that and not be lying, or guessing? After all, I believe in election and in limited atonement.
Here's how. And I thank my good friend Norman Shepherd, a retired Calvinist theologian and pastor for helping me out in this. In his book, "The Call of Grace," he tackles this problem head on. The problem is that Calvinists have wrongly interpreted the Scriptures through the lens of the 5 points when it comes to evangelism. Instead they should interpret the Scriptures through the lens of covenant.
Norman tells me in a personal conversation, that you start with the story of Scripture, and the story of the covenants of God. First, Adam broke covenant with God and lost fellowship with him by sinning in the garden. But God had a plan. Many years later, God made a covenant with Abraham, that through Abraham's seed (Christ [Galatians 3:16]) God would bless all the nations of the earth (Genesis 12:3). Then the Lord created a special people all unto his own: the nation of Israel. He saved them from slavery in Egypt. Then, the Lord destroyed the wicked nations of the land of Canaan (don't tell Christopher Hitchens and gang about that), and gave the land to Israel. He gave them the law through Moses, but the people rebelled against God. But God still had a plan. He brought his people to himself through Judges, and kings, and he gave Israel King David. Still the people rebelled, and God sent his people into exile. But God brought his people back to the land of Israel and in the fullness of time, Jesus came....
Jesus is the Messiah of Israel. Jesus is the Lord from heaven, and he has come to bring not just the Jews, but all nations to himself and to God the Father. Jesus tells his followers to go into all the nations and preach the gospel and to teach all the nations to obey Jesus and be baptized into his name. Jesus has died for the sins of the world, not just Jews. "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten son, that whoever believes in him will not perish but have everlasting life." Jesus said this to a Jewish teacher, Nicodemus.
So you tell this to Joe. And Joe says, "I'm not a Jew. You're telling me that Jesus is my Messiah too? Jesus died for me too?"
And what will you say?
I've had Calvinists tell me that I am not qualified, and neither are they, nor is anyone else, to tell a total stranger that Jesus died for them. They act this way because they look at life through the lens of the doctrine of divine decrees (election), and not through the story of the Bible--the doctrine of the covenant. God has made a covenant not with Israel, but with all nations--the world. This is why, when we read the "all" passages and the "world" passages, that Calvinists should not be threatened, because they read these texts through the covenantal lens, not the electionist lens.
So yes, Joe: Jesus died for you. Repent and believe and be baptized and you will be saved.
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