Answering Bunnies and Vultures

          Today, I'll be answering an excerpt from a YouTube video called: “Answering Objections to Calvinism,” by Bro. Jeff Durbin. The video is here:  (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0P11Zj1X_D8). 

          The relevant segment will be 37:46-39:49, but please, by all means watch the entire video and hear his points in context - I've simply shortened it for time's sake. If you are interested, I have a more complete rebuttal that covers all of Bro. Durbin’s points in the video. But for the purposes of this post, I’ll be dealing with 37:46-39:49. In this segment, he uses and explains an analogy of two different animals and their diets to answer the question, “Are you [Calvinists] denying that we’re making choices?”

Bro. Durbin tells us about a vulture and a rabbit occupying what seem to be separate but identical rooms. Each room contains a pile of meat and a pile of carrots. When given the choice, the vulture will, by its nature, freely choose the meat, and the rabbit will, by its nature, freely choose the carrots. Because the Intelligent Designer is sovereign over their natures, He is also sovereign over both of each of their free choices, and the choice is still free. Similarly, a sinner will, by his or her nature, freely choose sin over God. Because God is sovereign over the sinner’s evil nature, He is thus sovereign over the sinner’s choice to reject God, and the choice is still free. Admittedly, this analogy is attractive, but it has a fundamental problem.

          The analogy leaves us without any cause from blaming the analogical choosers for their choices. I do not think that Jeff is trying to say that we ought to punish a vulture for choosing a meaty meal over a vegetarian option, or chastise a rabbit for eating vegetables instead of carrion. However, the strength of an analogy is determined by the extent the two sides are able to correlate. The analogy is (by its nature, ironically enough) rather distant from the subject it’s describing. Bro. Durbin rightfully blames a sinner for his or her choice of sin over God, yet his analogy leaves us without any cause from blaming the analogical choosers for their choices. When we see vultures eating dead animals, we find no fault – it is their nature. When we see rabbits eating lettuce or carrots, we don’t punish them. It is simply their nature. They are doing what they were designed to do. If the analogy is true, we ought to find no fault with a person whose decisions are dictated by their nature. The (natural?) logical inferences from this analogy do not seem to allow for anything else.

          Moreover, if I may stretch the analogy slightly, let us imagine what might be done to these animals if they were to choose ‘incorrectly.’ Let’s say that the vulture (whose anatomy demands meat in order to survive) ate all carrots and no meat. What should be done? Should the vulture be corrected? Of course. And if the rabbit (whose anatomy demands plant matter in order to survive) ate all meat and no carrots, should it also be corrected? Yes. For whose sake? This absurd behavior would be (hypothetically speaking) a defiance against their nature and an affront to their Designer, the one who gave them their nature. These animals ought to be corrected, not only for the sake of their own respective health, but also for the sake of their Designer. Clearly, we do not punish animals for eating what they are designed to eat, but we feel obligated to correct animals for eating things that hurt them – i.e., things that they aren’t designed to eat. Violating one’s nature is perversion, abomination (Leviticus 18:22-23; Romans 1:26-27) This is a very interesting (and I think, hitherto untapped) angle on the analogy.

          So, if the analogy is indeed accurate to reality and we apply the analogy in this manner, it seems reasonable to deduce that sinners ought to be blamed for their decisions, not because they have acted in accordance with their nature, but because their decisions have violated their nature, and insulted the One who gave them their nature.

When You Find Out You Sound Like a Jerk

    Have you ever had the experience of doing something, and thinking you had done it well, until someone else came along with a fresh perspective and told you you hadn't done such a great job? This has happened to me before, and I try to make myself double check every time. After all, there's always the possibility of me being wrong.

    Well, I've been doing this blog for a while now, and one of my best friends just read some of my most recent material and told me that I sounded arrogant in my blog. I didn't believe him. But there was the chance (as always) that I could turn out to be wrong, so I went back and reread a couple of my posts - and almost melted into the carpet.

    He was right.

    I couldn't believe myself. Even I didn't want to take myself s seriously, let alone finish reading  the article. As I read with reader's eyes, I could recall my sentiments and my good intentions, the careful selection of words and phrases to avoid offending people, to sound conversational, to conserve time and page space - but I could also see the very unexpected result of that effort spilling out in front of me, rolling in the opposite direction that I had intended. My curtness turned to brusqueness. My conversational phrasing turned into snide quips. My passion wore a false mask of hate. Where did this come from? Did I write this?

    Have you ever watched a toddler use crayons? Many of them are incredibly meticulous, leaning in, squinting at the construction paper, putting in the effort - only for their labors to produce an incomprehensible mess of lines, dots and scribbles, 10% of which end up on the table rather than the paper. Effort does not equal immediate accomplishment of the goal.

    I have labored to make this blog as polite and cordial as possible. I have tried hard to avoid writing in offensive ways. But like the toddler, I'm finding I'm not very good at it, so my efforts don't produce the desired result.

    But every once in a while, we get to watch a toddler's scribbles turn into a child's messy stick figures and boxy house drawings, and then perhaps into the intelligent gestures and sketches of an adolescent's hands - which might one day become the masterpieces of the next Michelangelo.

    I'm not very good at sounding like I'm not a jerk. But I try not to, and it breaks my heart when I fall down on the job. And as long as I have good friends (and readers), who are willing to tell me (for my own good) when I sound bad, I can rub out my scribbles and try to draw a straighter line.

    So, hopefully, I'll be sounding much less like a jerk soon. I'm a work in progress.

    Thank God for Christian brothers and sisters.

Are Arminians Semi-Pelagian?

    I've heard some Reformed Christians refer to Libertarians (Free Will dudes like me), Arminians, Molinists, and others, as "semi-Pelagian" because we think that Man has the capacity to accomplish morally right acts before being repenting to God in faith. The famous heretic Pelagius also taught that Man has this capacity. Does this give Christians the right to call us semi-Pelagian?

    Only if Reformed Christians are Semi-Muslim. Hear me out. I'll be brief.

    Surah 11:118 - "Had thy Lord pleased, he would have made mankind of one religion: but those only to whom thy Lord hath granted his mercy will cease to differ. And unto this hath He created them: for the word of thy Lord shall be fulfilled, 'I will wholly fill Hell with demons and men.' "

    Reformed Christians teach that God, in his 'sovereignty,' could indeed have made everyone Christian, and every Christian Reformed, but in God's secret plan, He preferred that not all be saved and not all be Reformed.

    Surah 9:51 - "Nothing can befall us but what Allah hath destined for us."

    Reformed Christians teach that nothing happens except that God first decreed, ordained and determined (i.e. destined) it.

    Surah 14:4 - "God misleadeth whom he will, and whom he will he guideth: and he is the Mighty, the Wise."

    This sounds remarkably like the Reformed interpretation of Romans 9:18.

    [I completely acknowledge that some of my own beliefs as well are found in the Koran. I don't want to be called semi-Muslim any more than the next Christian, but I'll acknowledge facts here.]

    So my point, in the end, is not that we ought to call Reformed Christians semi-Muslim because some of their teachings are found in the Koran - but that we should not call Arminians semi-Pelagian simply because some of their teachings sound like Pelagius', either. We shouldn't attach "semi-" names to either group. If we were to attach "semi-" to the front of anything that contained any nugget of similarity with the person we're referring to, then we could add a great many names to a great many groups. We could even call Creationists semi-Atheistic because they both teach that the Earth is round, or we could call naturalistic evolutionists semi-Creationist because they agree that organisms have DNA. You could call me semi-Piper and semi-Sproul and semi-Calvin and semi-Luther because I agree with all these men that God is all-powerful, all-knowing, holy and eternal. I could go on.

    But again - in the end, these "semi-" terms are not very helpful at all, and seem to tend more to divide than unite. It's an ineffective tactic, and I think it needs to end, for the good of the Church.

If It Doesn't Apply to You...

    Whenever addressing the views of a vast group of people, whatever their views, it must always be remembered, and respected, that views are not blocks - they are spectra. One can't simply walk along the 'path of belief systems,' and point to one boulder and say, "that's Atheism," or to another and say, "that's Islam," or to another and say, "that's Christianity."

    Anyone who sees worldviews like this is certain to be ignored. When one approaches these boulders and looks closely, one finds that these boulders are not in one piece. One approaches the Islamic boulder, and one finds that there are many facets. One with an inscription that reads "Sunni," and another that reads "Shia," with many others. One might pass the Atheist boulder and find many facets as well, or any other.

   When one is addressing the values and beliefs from any of these great boulders, one must be sensitive and open to the many reflective facets that are there. It would be nearly impossible to address every single facet, especially with so sophisticated a thing as an ancient and advanced religion.

   I have been writing about Reformed Christians for some time now, and I wanted them (or you, I suppose) to know that from where I stand, I can see that there are many facets on the Christian boulder, and also that upon these facets are more facets, and so forth. Particularities between these different Christian views can be numerous and nuanced.

   I suppose this post amounts to an apology and not-an-apology. I apologize that I am unable to address every facet of a given belief system when I address the system as a whole. My effort has been, and will continue to be, to address these belief systems' most basic and most widely-held teachings (within that given boulder or facet), in order to make my answer as brief, simple and widespread as I can. I understand that this will not satisfy or even apply to some people, and I am sorry that I am unable to do more.

   The not-an-apology comes in now: I do not apologize for being general. If I were to address every facet or sub-facet in turn, I could spend a lifetime at this keyboard and accomplish very little. The ultimate purpose for these arguments is not necessarily to convince anyone, but essentially to demonstrate weakness where and how I perceive it. I stress 'perceive' because as my logical process evolves and my knowledge increases and my understanding develops, I have come to change my views more than once - and I expect I will change them again when the need arises. But every change has been deliberate and hard-fought. Beliefs are not to be taken or discarded lightly, particularly in religion. Our views on which carpet is healthiest for our children are important as well, but we are literally discussing our views of gods, divinity and the dichotomy of eternal bliss and eternal torment. Therefore, these portions of our beliefs are of considerably graver moment.

   What I'm basically trying to say is this: It (usually) is not my goal to address a particularly specific sub-sub-facet (Molinism, for example, as a sub-set of Arminianism, which is itself a sub-set of Christianity) or sub-sub-sub-facet. This gets very, very particular, and I'm not interested in that sort of detail - mainly because it's largely a waste of time (IMO). As an example, if I'm debating with (say) eight different denominations of Islam, I can likely cover the vast majority of their denominations by concentrating on proving the Bible over the Koran - or with different sorts of atheists, my focus will be on proving the existence of a higher, conscious power, because that's where they agree.

    I freely acknowledge that not everything I say about any given group will apply soundly to all members of that group, because beliefs systems are not units - they are a spectrum. As red fades into orange, there are regions of the spectrum where the description of a fuller red no longer fully apply - and yet it is still red and not orange... yet. So as in color, there is some nuance to belief.

    All of this to say: I'm sorry if what I say about your belief system sounds inaccurate to your region of the spectrum, but I'm trying to cover as much of that region as possible with basic descriptions and generally held (or not held) teachings. If anything I say about you doesn't apply, then feel free to discard it - it doesn't apply to you. I must be talking about someone else.

    I mean no offense to anyone, truly. But it's nearly impossible for me to speak absolutely in so broad and delicate a spectrum. I'm bound to speak "a few shades off" at times. Try to bear with me, and don't be afraid to comment.

    I'm always looking to learn more.

    Grace and peace.

What I Mean When I Say God Only Has One Will

   Reformed Christians are often asked if it's God's will to save everyone, or just Christians. The usual Reformed response nowadays is that in one sense, it is God's will for everyone to be saved, and in another sense, it isn't God's will for everyone to be saved. These are the "Two Wills of God." God has a 'decretive will' (the will that decrees, or sets the future in stone, so to speak), and he also has a 'prescriptive will' (the will that requires certain things of mankind - like the Commandments).

   The problem with this isn't that it seeks to defend God from a serious charge of sadism or tyranny (which is an admirable goal), but that it makes into a 'will' what isn't a will. God's expression of requirements toward us isn't itself a facet of his volitional faculties - it's a facet of his revelation, his self-expression to mankind. So the contrast isn't 'this' will of God versus 'that' will of God, but the 'will' of God versus the 'words' of God. That's the first problem.

    The second problem is that when most people ask Reformed Christians what God's will is, we often get a response about what God desires. "Yes, God wants everyone to be saved, in some sense, but in another sense he also wants some to go to Hell for his own ultimate glory." But that usually isn't what we mean when we ask what God's will is - we mean something much more simple than God's conflicting desires.

    [And even within the 'two desires' view, that only tells us what God craves, not what God wills.]

    For my Reformed brothers and sisters out there who may or may not be reading this, please pay attention to what I say next. I say this in as much love and grace as I know how:

    When we ask Reformed Christians what God's will is, we typically are not asking about what God desires - we're asking what God prefers. Yes, God may have different desires, but he's only going to pursue what he prefers. So when we ask: "Is it God's will to save everyone, or just Christians?" what we most often mean is: "Does God prefer that everyone be saved, or just Christians?" No matter your worldview, this question only has one answer. In Reformed Theology, God's preference is clear: God prefers to effectually reprobate and condemn most of mankind to Hell for a crime our first ancestor committed, and unconditionally elect and save some for Himself, and both destinies are subjects of God's pleasure, delight and glory. In my worldview, God's preference is also clear. God prefers to save everyone, but because of Man's rebellion, He cannot justly save all unless all repent. Not all repent, and so not all are saved.

    So I ask, for the sake of honesty, forthrightness and integrity, that Reformed Christians please hear us for what we mean. I acknowledge that every single individual might not mean this exact thing every single time he or she asks, but many times, this is the intention of the question, and I think it would greatly improve (and simplify) the dialogue between Reformed and non-Reformed Christians if Reformed Christians would acknowledge this intention when it occurs.

    

    And of course, one of the most dire problems with this contrast of God's intentions against his revelation is that God seems to be expressing a preference that human beings act in a certain morally upright way, and yet his internal preference (as enacted by his effectual decrees) is obviously that human beings live debauched lifestyles. This has multiple facets throughout the Intent vs. Revelation issue, but many of these facets come down to this question: If God prefers one thing, and then says he prefers the opposite, how is this not a lie? By definition, expressing something that isn't true is a lie. God decrees what he prefers. God has decreed that Man would murder, steal, rape, torture, and in every other way act wickedly. Therefore, God prefers that Man murders, steal, rapes, tortures, and in every other way acts wickedly, at least in such instances as these things occur.

    I truly don't mean any of this maliciously. My sincere hope is that this blog is helping non-Reformed Christians learn to defend against the 'Doctrines of Grace,' and that it will also help Reformed Christians begin to see that their doctrines are not as straightforward or well-based as they are being led to believe by their leaders. And of course, I also hope to improve the quality and peacefulness of the dialogues surrounding these issues. God bless you all!

The Great Fallacy of Reformed Theology

     Please understand: I do not mean that Reformed Theology in itself is a fallacy. The title is meant to express that I'm here to address the great fallacy of Reformed Theology - not the great fallacy that is Reformed Theology. That's not even sort of what I mean. Just wanted to clear that up.

     The great fallacy of Reformed Theology is the Negative Inference Fallacy. Let me give an example.

     Let's say I go to the mall with my wife on Monday, and then I tell the story on Friday. On Friday, I tell someone: "I bought myself an ice cream cone on Monday." If the person immediately assumes that I did not buy any ice cream for my wife that day, then they've committed the Negative Inference Fallacy. Why? Because my statement didn't include any negative qualifying statements, or what I call 'exclusive qualifiers.' What's an exclusive qualifier? An exclusive qualifier is a word or phrase that excludes something. Words and phrases like: "only," or "and only," or "but not."

     If I had said something like: "I only bought an ice cream cone for myself," or "I bought an ice cream cone for myself, but not for my wife," then the exclusive qualifiers make my meaning very clear. If I've said something more like this, then there's no fallacy in wondering why I only bought ice cream for myself, because my qualifiers make it explicitly clear that that's what I did. But assuming that by saying a simple statement like: "I bought myself some ice cream," I really mean: "I bought ice cream for myself, and only myself," is a fallacy, because the hearer has inferred a negative statement from a positive statement. You can't logically infer what someone hasn't done by hearing what they have done.

     So, how does this apply to Reformed Theology? John 10:11, Isaiah 53:12b, and Acts 20:28 are the clearest passages I've ever seen used to prove Limited Atonement. I'll list the ESV quotations of the verses:

     John 10:11 - "I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep."
     Isaiah 53:12b - "He poured out his soul to death, and was numbered with the transgressors; yet he bore the sin of many, and makes intercession for the transgressors."
     Acts 20:28 - "Pay careful attention to yourselves and to all the flock, in which the Holy Spirit has made you overseers, to care for the church of God, which he obtained with his own blood."

     Therefore, because these passages only mention Christians, Christ died only Christians and not for anyone else. But is that right? Look again - there are no exclusive qualifiers here, not in any of even the clearest passages used to prove Limited Atonement. (If there are any that are clearer, more explicit, or that include exclusive qualifiers, that I've missed, PLEASE do cite them in the comment section. I would love to study and discuss any such passages.) Why is this a problem? Well, there's a twofold problem here: 1) In order to infer exclusivity into these passages, you have to do so on a philosophical basis, and not an exegetical one (at least in terms of these specific passages), since these are the very passages used to prove the thing that's being inferred, and yet they don't actually exclude or negate anything, and 2) The rest of Scripture is not neutral - many other Scriptures use very inclusive in talking about the Atonement. A few examples are I John 2:2, I Timothy 2:1-6 and Romans 5:18.

     I John 2:2 - "He [Jesus] is the propitiation for our sins, and not for our sins only but also for the sins of the whole world."
     I Timothy 2:6 - "[Jesus] gave himself as a ransom for all, which is the testimony given at the proper time."
     Romans 5:18 - "Therefore, as one trespass led to condemnation for all men, so one act of righteousness leads to justification and life for all men."

     I know some will disagree with my interpretation of these three verses, but if the 'Limited Atonement' passages have no exclusive qualifiers, then we have to go with the plain reading of these texts. If John 10 says Christ dies for the sheep, and Romans 5 says Christ dies for the whole world, then we shouldn't take "many" to mean "only some, and not others." In other words, we shouldn't interpret the clear "all" in light of unclear "many," but vice versa, we ought to interpret the unclear "many" in light of the clear "all."

     Now, I don't mean that "sheep" is unclear. Jesus made his specific meaning for the particular purpose for which he was speaking that day very clear - my point in saying these passages are unclear is that they don't use exclusive language, they don't use exclusive qualifiers. But not only does Scripture not affirm this exclusivity, and not only does it say "all," but we have some Scriptures which employ inclusive qualifiers in talking on the Atonement ("not for ours only, but also for the sins of the whole world" I Jn. 2:2)
   
   Let me offer you an analogy: On Sunday, 285 people show up to my church, and I buy ice cream for people that day at church. On Monday, I tell Bob that I bought ice cream for everyone my Sunday School class. On Tuesday, I tell Mary that I bought ice cream for all of the children who came to church on that Sunday. On Wednesday, I tell Kevin that I bought ice cream for everyone who came to church that Sunday. Each time, I've been talking about the exact same Sunday.

   Now for the million dollar questions: Do these three accounts of me buying ice cream contradict one another? Do these three accounts require any complex interpretations or explanations in order to harmonize them? Out of 285 people who showed up to church that Sunday, then according to my various reports on my ice cream purchase, how many of those people did I buy ice cream for?

   I have a feeling most of you out there think the answer is pretty obvious. If I bought ice cream for only my Sunday School class, then there's a serious problem with the claim that I bought ice cream for the children, let alone the entire congregation. But if I bought ice cream for the entire congregation, then that would naturally include my own Sunday School class, as well as all of the children who came to church that day. It makes sense of all the accounts, with no hangups. We think with this kind of logic all the time.

   Where then is the snag with John 10:11 and I John 2:2? Well, logically, there is no snag. If Jesus died only for Christians, then the claims of I John 2:2, Romans 5:18-24 and I Timothy 2:1-6 are pretty major snags. But if Jesus died for the sins of the whole human race, past, present and future, then that would naturally include all Christians.

   [For my Reformed brothers and sisters, if a question along the lines of "If Jesus died for the sins of the lost, then why do they still go to Hell?", then please see my earlier post: If Jesus Died for All, Why Hell?]

   The great fallacy of Reformed Theology (or TULIP), then, is the Negative Inference Fallacy. Biblically, logically, it's clear that Christ died for all. Biblically, the facts lean heavily toward an Atonement of universal scope. Logically, Christ's atonement for sins does not in itself save anyone, because that simply isn't the nature of sacrifice. Did his atonement save us? Absolutely - just not on its own. Saying that the Atonement saves us is like saying that the United States of America won World War II. Of course we won the war: we were the dominating force in that conflict, East and West alike - but we were far from alone, and so is the Atonement.

   I do not mean that people have to do anything to save themselves or earn anything. Paul makes it clear that belief and trust in Christ reconciles one to God, not works (Romans 9:30-31).

    Keep an eye out for this post's sequel: The Faulty Pillar. In that post, I'll show how and why the Bible's real teachings on the Atonement make TULIP an exegetical impossibility.

    But as a preview, I'll only be addressing the ULI. Why? Because I do think that all people are sinful, and that their sin corrupts their total, complete essence, so the T can stay - as long as it's not Total Inability. And as for the P, what people really seem to mean is that once you put your hand in God's, you might let go, but He won't - so once He's got you, He's got you.

    As always, thanks for reading, and keep an eye out for upcoming posts!

If Christ Died for All, Why Hell?

     My previous post on the Atonement concluded with a profound question that Reformed Christians (e.g. Calvinists) have asked for centuries: If Christ's atonement paid for the sins of all, then what justification could there be in sending anyone to Hell? If these sins are washed in the blood, then why must the sinner endure the Flame? If Christ died for all, why Hell?

     As I have said, this question is very profound - but it has a simple answer. It's amazing. This question troubled me for some time when I first began to combat Reformed Theology more directly, years ago. I feared that it might not have any good answer, that its difficulty might force me to accept Reformed Teachings, at least in part. But in time, the answer became not only clear, but obvious! It amazes me to look back and wonder why I didn't see it before.

     Here are the facts I have presented: God created Man. Man sinned. God condemned Man. God sent Jesus. Jesus paid for the sins of all mankind. Some repent, others do not. Some go to Heaven, and some to Hell - but all sins are covered.

     The answer to this riddle lies in the greater context of Jesus' atoning death. What surrounded his death? I don't mean anything in Time or Space - I mean ideology, I mean tradition, I mean... the Jewish Faith. More specifically, the Mosaic Covenant, which Jesus' resurrection concluded. Incidentally, his resurrection also jump-started the Covenant of Grace, or the Church Covenant, or the New Testament, if you will. In other words, Jesus' death did not occur within the Church Covenant at all - it occurred within the Mosaic Covenant. His sacrifice was an Old Testament sacrifice. His sacrifice covered sins in much the same way as sacrifices always have - few Christians will deny this - although his sacrifice of course covered the sins of a great many more people and years. A bull or a lamb might only cover one person's sins, or a family's sins, or the nation's sins, depending on the animal and the occasion. But all of these sacrifices have one thing in common: they did not guarantee forgiveness, reconciliation or deliverance. You could kill all the spotless sheep and cattle the world and still be punished, if your heart was in the wrong place.

     Throughout the Old Testament, God rebuked Israel for offering "vain" sacrifices (Is. 1:13, shav, H7723). This was not always indicative of improper delivery, or a faulty animal, or anything physically askew - but God condemns Israel on a metaphysical basis, on moral grounds. Not because of any sacrificial protocol, but because their hearts were not in the sacrifice. Simply put: they had offered their proper sacrifices, but with unrepentant hearts, which displeased God (Hos. 6:6).

     No sacrifice in the history of the sacrificial system ever guaranteed forgiveness in itself, and there is no good indication that Christ's sacrifice is any different. If this is the case, then even if Christ died only for the Elect, this is no guarantee of even their redemption, in light of the true nature and purpose of sacrifices.

     But as a final example of sacrifices not bringing forgiveness in themselves, look to the Torah, the Pentateuch - throughout the wilderness wanderings of Israel, they were offering their sacrifices. One sacrifice in particular paid for the sins of the entire nation for a whole year (Leviticus 16). If sacrifice equals forgiveness, then what justification could there possibly be for God to judge Israel during that time (Numbers 16:31-35, 21:4-9)? God judged even for improper altar use (Leviticus 10:1-3) - are we to believe that He would have ignored the omission of the most important sacrifice in the Jewish sacrificial year? Doubtful, at best.

     The Old Testament leaves us doubtless that a sacrifice atones for sins, but cannot guarantee the forgiveness of sins. Even if a person's sins were atoned for by sacrifice in the Old Testament, if they remained unrepentant, their sins were not forgiven, and they came under judgement.

     The New Testament leaves us doubtless that Christ's death is identical in nature and purpose to that of Old Testament sacrifices. His death propitiates like old sacrifices (I John 2:2). It requires repentance and faith in order to save (Acts 3:19, 16:31). Regardless of whether we say repentance and faith are gifts from above, it's clear that both are necessary in order for the Atonement to have its full effect on those who believe. The Atonement does not effectually accomplish their salvation without those two things.

     

     So then, there is no logical or exegetical conflict with the teaching of a Messianic Atonement against the justification of sending sinners to Hell for atoned sins, because that's simply not how sacrifices work.

Thanks for reading!

The Best Passage Against Limited Atonement

     Anyone who knows me well knows that I don't accept Reformed Theology. I've heard of Five Point Calvinists, Four Point Calvinists and some others, but at best I think someone might call me a One Point Calvinist. I only believe in the first and final points, T and P, but I don't accept the Total Inability side of the T, that some Reformed Christians place in it, so I can't hold to that form of it. So in short, I usually just tell people I reject the T altogether. As far as the P goes, I don't care for the terminology or even all of the rationale of that tenet of Reformed Theology, so I reject it as well.

     Reformed Theology, or Calvinism as some know it, has many problems, but there is a fine analogy I like to use in dealing with Calvinism or any other false system of belief. In the old days, cities were defended by stone walls. These walls were extremely formidable, and presented a profound barrier because they were made from very sturdy materials that could not easily be moved by the attacking force. The best way to begin an assault on the city, then, was not in attacking the wall's strongest or best-defended portions of the wall - but the weakest. This was largely the reason why gates were prime targets. They were sometimes made of wood, but even the iron ones presented a soft target in comparison with the mass and immovability of the wall itself.

     Similarly, belief systems have strong points and weak points. Granted, even the strongest walls can be brought down - but it has to start with the weaknesses. Total Depravity is a fairly reasonable claim. Unconditional Election is not baseless. Irresistible Grace has some basis for belief, and Perseverance of the Saints is actually true, in some ways. But Limited Atonement is not only false, like the others, but is so far off the mark that Scripture itself tells us that it can't be so.

     Reformed Christians are quick to remind me that just about everyone limits the Atonement, but let me explain the nuance here. Of course, I do limit the Atonement. Reformed Christians limit the Atonement's scope, and I limit the efficacy. But, since Limited Atonement by definition limits the Atonement's scope, my Universal Atonement makes the Atonement's scope universal.

     Apart from the "glory" or "power" aspect of the Atonement, let's take a look at the Atonement on a basic level. Or more particularly, one specific passage. There are some passages that seem to point toward a "limited" atonement, and some that seem to indicate a more "universal" sort. But none go so very far to point away from the Reformed notion of the Atonement as I Timothy 2:1-6.

     Of course, depending upon your interpretational bent, the very best is I John 2:2, since John claims openly that Christ is the propitiation for "the sins of the whole world," but I Timothy 2 can really only be interpreted against the Reformed perspective. One has to basically bend over backward (metaphorically speaking, of course) in order to interpret this passage in a manner consistent with Reformed Theology. Why is that? Well, let's start with providing the verses themselves. These of course ought to be studied within their context, but I trust the reader has the resources to read the entire second letter to Timothy and understand the passage in context, so I'll press on straight to the heart of the matter.

     "First of all, then, I urge that prayers, supplications, intercessions and thanksgivings be made for all people, for kings and all who are in high positions, that we may lead a peaceful and quiet life, Godly and dignified in every way. This is good, and it is pleasing in the sight of God our Savior, who desires all people to be saved and to come to a knowledge of the truth. For there is one God, and one mediator between God and men, the man Jesus Christ, who gave himself as a ransom for all, which is the testimony given at the proper time." (v.1-6)

     Paul's goal in writing to Timothy is to encourage the young pastor of Ephesus (Timothy) to be strong in the faith and not waver in the coming storms of persecution and belittlement of young Christian leaders, and possibly more importantly, Paul is writing to Timothy with key regulations for the operation of the early Christian "ekklesia," or what we now call the Church.

     After his salutation, Paul gets right down to the issue of prayer. For whom are we to pray? The answer to the riddle we're trying to solve comes down to the answer to this question, so for the sake of argument, let's limit the sense of "all" down to the very smallest number of people it's capable of including in the context of Paul's point. In verse 1, Paul tells us we ought to pray for all people, but in verse 2 he says we are to pray for world leaders ("kings and all who are in high positions"). That's about as tight as it can get in this context, but we're definitely talking about all high-powered government officials.

     Again, for argument's sake, let's narrow it down even more. Let's say we're only talking about the supreme national leaders - kings, emperors, prime ministers, etc. - heads of their respective states. We're dealing with an awful lot of people we're supposed to love and pray for and thank God for, who aren't even Christians. Why are we supposed to pray for "all people" (which includes at least all the world leaders)?

     We are to pray for these people because it pleases God. Why does it please God? Because he "desires all people to be saved and come to a knowledge of the truth." Given Paul's seamless transition and unbroken grammatical progression, it's safe to assume he means the same group in both cases. This doesn't at all break the idea of Unconditional Election, because even in Reformed Theology, God does love all people and he wants all of us to be saved, but he also hates all of us and wants all of us to go to Hell - simply put, Unconditional Election deals with finding out who God loves more than he hates, and vice versa. Because this isn't conclusive, I won't deal heavily with it, and so we'll move on now.

     And here's where things get serious. It's important to understand that the Apostle Paul was a very process-oriented writer. He built ideas on ideas, concepts on concepts. There's a very deliberate, orderly progression to his writings - that's part of the reason he's largely believed to be the author of Hebrews - and his ideas are very cohesive and co-operational with one another. He's building a single, cohesive case, and each instance of the word "all" represents a key building block in this case he's building. He's laying down an ordered, logical statement in these verses, meant to be understood very directly and very clearly. So let's get serious.

     The reason things are getting serious is that it's plain that Paul means the same group in all four instances of the word "all" (or pas in the Greek, G3956), and he applies the fourth instance of that word in verse 6. Paul turns the reader's attention to Jesus Christ's atonement for our sins in verses 5 and 6, as a furtherance for his case that we ought to pray for all people (necessarily including, but not necessarily limited to, the world leaders), in which he reminds the reader that Jesus Christ gave himself as a ransom for "all," which includes the same group of people as before (all the world leaders, at least). The reason that this is problematic is because if "ransom" means "atone" in this passage, then the passage is clearly teaching that Christ died for all the world leaders, many of whom have died without accepting Christianity - which, if true, presents a very difficult Scriptural situation for Reformed theologians.

   Now let me explain why this is most reasonably interpreted as the atonement for sins. First off, if we love people selflessly (with a "Christ-like love"), we will pray for their salvation. If we don't care enough for them to want that for them, then it's clear we do not love them very deeply. Your passion for the salvation of a person is directly indicative of your love for them. I have heard Reformed Christians talk of the passionate, tearful prayers they offer for the regeneration of their children, the regeneration they know might never come - because their deep, abiding, sacrificial love for their children will not allow them to pray for anything less. Similarly, if we really love our neighbors with a deep, abiding, sacrificial, selfless, Christ-like love, then we will offer prayer for their regeneration, as Reformed Christians put it. We pray for our world leaders, we pray for our peers, we pray for our family members, but we do not deeply love them if we will not pray for God to save them from their sinful state and bring them into the Kingdom.

   Why am I saying this? Why ought we to pray for the lost? Because truly loving someone means being elated in their highs and being broken over their lows. Their heart is your heart, their joy your joy, their pain your pain, their distress your distress. We love our children, and how many parents can deny a feeling of real, selfless fear, when we see our children entering dangerous situations? We feel something similar for anyone we deeply love. We're not afraid that we will suffer anything - we're terrified that the other person might suffer, and it breaks us into pieces. But true selfless love also means caring deeply about a person's most serious problems, and not only the convenient ones. It's been compared to a woman in a hospital bed, suffering a terminal illness. If the woman's husband joins a prayer circle on her behalf, but prays only for the woman's hangnails, and not for her daily agony from disease, everyone in the circle would immediately doubt the depth of that man's love for his wife - and rightly so. If we do not care enough for a person to be broken over their greatest problems, then we don't care about them in any meaningful way. And if we won't pray for that problem, then that is also an indicator that we don't love them very deeply.

    No one has a problem greater than being a lost sinner. If we will not pray for them in this, then our love for them is petty and shallow - not truly deep, abiding or Christ-like. But herein lies the problem: if we love all people deeply enough to pray for their regeneration, then we are praying that God would save people he hates, and will never heed our prayers for - people God didn't love enough to send Jesus to die for. And if God doesn't care about these people's greatest problem, then what kind of love is that? Indeed, there are Reformed arguments that God is right to hate sinners and love them very little because of their evil - but there isn't a good Biblical or logical case for this. (Sounds like a good blog post...)

   So if we are to love these people (Mat. 5:44; Lu, 10:27), and we are to pray for these people (I Tim. 2:1), then we ought to pray for their deepest and gravest problem - sin. In this passage, and a great many others, there is cause to believe that this is really the same sort of love God has for the sinner. He "desires all people to be saved," "gave himself as a ransom for all." Of course, the first reasonable Reformed response to the claim that "ransom" means propitiation is that the vague concept of "ransom" does not necessarily equate full redemption. While this is true, to an extent, the accomplishment of a ransom that doesn't actually have the potential to benefit the one it's "ransoming" in any meaningful or lasting way isn't much of an accomplishment at all. What sort of a ransom might Christ have offered on behalf of those for whose sins he was not atoning? Common Grace, perhaps? Common Grace doesn't require a sacrifice, because there's no reconciliation. There's no forgiveness involved in Common Grace, so it isn't a very good option for this passage.

   In addition, the Greek term used by Paul for "ransom" (antilytron, G487)* more directly translates as "what is given in exchange for another as the price for his redemption; ransom," or we could even use the modern English definition of 'ransom': "payment given in exchange for the release of a captive" - the two definitions are extremely similar. So, if this "ransom" on Christ's behalf bore redeeming power, then from what is Christ redeeming all of the world leaders? In what sense did Christ redeem sinners but from sin itself? What did Christ "give in exchange for another," to buy back these sinners who died without being regenerated? From what was he redeeming them? There is no good answer for this but one: Sin.

*[https://www.blueletterbible.org/lang/lexicon/lexicon.cfm?Strongs=G487&t=ESV]

   The language, progression and message of the passage are clear: Christ died for all of the world leaders, and that is the reason that God wants all the world leaders to be saved, and God's desire for all the world leaders to be saved is the reason that we ought to pray for all the world leaders.

   [And now, let me take a moment to say that I do not in fact think that the passage is speaking of only the world leaders - it is my firm conviction that Paul is speaking of the whole human race in all six verses. When he writes "for all people, for kings and all who are in high positions," it seems clear to me that Paul is making a reference to all mankind, and then deliberately including government leaders in that set of people in order to make it explicitly clear that he means kings, etc, as well as the average man and his peers. This is very consistent with both Christ's and Paul's commands to love and do good to all.]

   The passage makes itself clear: We ought to pray for all men because God desires their regeneration, and God demonstrated this desire in ransoming all men for himself in Jesus Christ's atoning death on the cross. So, now we have a different, but deeply profound, question:

   We must now ask ourselves, not if Christ died for all men, but why he died for all men. Indeed, the Scriptures are largely vague on the inclusiveness of the set of people Christ died for, but clear passages such as this one greatly clarify the more difficult ones. Christ indeed says that he dies for the sheep (Jn. 10:11), but this is no contradiction of the claim that he died for all, because the Elect are necessarily included in the set "all mankind." So, since it can be clearly seen that Christ did die for all, we must now clear away a Reformed objection to such a concept.

   The objection is this: If Jesus paid for the sins of all people, then why would any go to Hell? What justification is left in punishing sin if those sins have already been atoned for? If God first slays the Lamb for all sins, and then still punishes men for the very same sins, what justice is there in that?

   I eagerly look forward to answering such questions in my upcoming post: If Christ Died for All, why Hell?

Who's Irrational?

     Atheists often call Christians irrational. Christians often call Atheists irrational. Who's really being rational about this? The answer is not so easy.

     The answer is: both. Both Christians and Atheists tend to come to their conclusions about God on emotional terms and not rational ones.

     If you listen to Atheist vs Theist/Christian debates (it you're reading this, then you probably have or will), you'll hear many Atheists explaining why they rejected God. The majority of the atheists whom I have heard give explanations on video either say: "Because [something horrific], God can't possibly exist," or "I prayed to God, but he didn't answer me." Because of these two things, many become atheists. Are these logical? No, not really. They're emotional.

     Are all atheists atheists because of emotional reasons? I don't think that's the case. I think some become atheists in studying science or philosophy, and they truly believe they have made a rational choice. It is a rational one because they trust their teachers. "My teacher clearly knows what he's talking about. If he knows what he's talking about, then what he's saying is true. He's giving several reasons why God can't exist. Therefore, God must not exist." This is a big problem - not because they're becoming atheists, but because they aren't looking into the facts very hard. People become Reformed Christians for a similar reason: they don't know how to refute claims by philosophical opponents, and they convert because their inability to resist makes the other system seem perfect.

     But not all Christians become Christians for emotional reasons either. Lee Strobel is one of many Christians who used to be an atheist, but converted to Christianity on rational grounds after studying the facts surrounding Jesus of Nazareth. Others convert to Christianity on scientific grounds, etc.

     So some atheists become atheists for emotional reasons, and some for logical reasons, and some Christians become Christians for emotional reasons, and some for logical reasons. We're both logical, and we're both irrational.

     Logically, only one can be right, though. Either God exists, or he doesn't.

     So, yes, Christians often become Christians for irrational reasons, usually because they've "met" God. But many atheists become atheists for equally (and sometimes even more) irrational reasons. Yes, believing that God exists because "that's how I was raised" is a stupid reason to believe in God. Yes, saying that I know God exists because "I have a relationship with God" isn't a good argument for his existence. But just because your life didn't turn out the way you wanted doesn't mean God doesn't exist.

     Here's what Christianity ultimately teaches about Evil. God made good things, including humans. Humans were good. Humans did some stupid stuff and brought Evil into the world - not God. Now, God is waiting for the right time to eradicate Evil once and for all. If we believe in God, he promises to preserve us after death, so that we can not only witness the eradication of Evil, but enjoy its non-existence for eternity, basking in the awesomeness of pure goodness forever. With that in mind, all the evil that has ever been on Earth or ever will be is navel lint in comparison with the banquet in store for us after death. Even if you live a horrible, torturous, persecuted, hunted, mistreated, deprived, miserable life - you're only stuck here for about 70 years. After that, you have two options (and you have to choose before you die - very important): A) Witness the exile of Evil into oblivion and bask in the glory of pure goodness and bliss for all eternity, or B) Get exiled with Evil into Hell for eternity.

     So, at the end of the day, our lives aren't so bad, even if they're horrible. :)

     And we're both being irrational. Definitely.

Who should we pray for?

     "First of all, then, I urge that supplications, prayers, intercessions and thanksgivings be made for all people, for kings and all who are in high positions, that we may live a peaceful and quiet life, Godly and dignified in every way. This is good, and it is pleasing in the sight of God our Savior, who desires all people to be saved and to come to a knowledge of the truth. For there is one God, and one mediator between God and men, the man Jesus Christ, who gave himself as a ransom for all, which is the testimony given at the proper time." (I Timothy 2:1-6, emphasis mine)

     For whom are we to pray? Why ought we to pray for them? Who does Paul mean when he says "all?" These are all great questions, and ones I intend to answer.

     It's clear from verse 1 that we ought to pray for people who aren't Christians. "All who are in high positions" doesn't exclude any government official. "All" here means Christians, Mormons, Atheists, Muslims, Buddhists, Satanists, and all the rest. That we can agree on.

     Paul goes on to tell us that we ought to pray for these non-Christians so that we may live a peaceful and quiet life. That's nice - but it's not all. He then says that it is pleasing to God himself, because God desires "all" people to be saved. That's the ultimate reason for us to pray for these people. If God loves all of mankind enough to want them to be saved, then we ought to love them enough to pray for them.

     Paul's next aim is to defend his claim that God wants all to be saved, by reminding the reader that Christ gave himself as a ransom "for all."

     What we see in these verses is three key instances of the word "all" (pas, G3956), which I have highlighted in bold print for emphasis. The first key instance is in the phrase "be made for all people;" the second in "desires all people to be saved;" and the third is in "who gave himself as a ransom for all." These instances of "all" are each critical to Paul's central point (that we ought to pray for all people, including government officials), and they are intimately linked and related to one another.

     Christians stand enthusiastically united behind the idea that praying for "all" (v.1-2) tells us that we ought to care and pray for all people, but when we reach verse 4, the interpretations begin to diverge. Some say that "all" refers only to Christians in verse 4, others that it points to mankind as a whole, and still others say that it affirms that God wants all to be saved, but only in one sense.

     Paul makes himself clear from the outset that he doesn't just mean Christians by "all," so the first interpretation isn't a good one. The second one is the one I espouse, and I'll explain it soon. The third is trickier, so I'll give it its own paragraph.

     The claim is that God has two forms of wanting (or "willing") something. The first is that he wants it in the sense that he desires for it to happen, even if he only wants it a little bit, or if it contradicts a stronger desire he has that something else happens instead. The second is in the sense of God's intentions - what he actually plans to bring about. The argument in the case of this particular passage would probably be something along the lines of: "God desires in some sense that everyone would be saved, but not as much as he desires the damnation of some of us." This interpretation is no good either, because Paul's very next point is that Christ died as a ransom for all. If God had no great desire to save them and no intention of doing so, then why would Jesus die for all? Of course, it was that very question that led to the doctrine of Limited Atonement, the third tenet of TULIP. But who does "all" mean here?

     If Paul means only Christians, then he has done a poor job of relating that idea. In fact, his composition of 2:1-6 is so bad that it appears to tell us the very opposite of what he meant - which forces us to bend over backward in order to represent what he really meant. Paul lays out, in a very orderly, logical fashion, who "all" means. "All" includes those who are not Christians (v.1-2). God desires the same "all" to be saved (I say "same" because Paul indicates no distinction and so probably intends no distinction) (v.4). Christ died for the same "all" (v.6). This passage appears to be telling us that Christ died for more than just Christians, desires more than just Christians to be saved and (deeply) loves more than just Christians.

     Some might say that such an interpretation stands in opposition to the rest of Scripture - but the problem with this is that there is no direct Scriptural contradiction to what I have said, and in fact, several Scriptures directly agree with what I have said, and countless others indirectly.

     A good example of such a passage is I John 2:2. I like this one in particular because it clarifies many of the others: "He is the propitiation for our sins, and not for ours only but also for the sins of the whole world." Some will say that John only means the Elect, since only their sins were paid for - however, it isn't that complicated. I say complicated instead of simple because the interpretation of this verse to mean only the Elect requires a complex array of connections and interpretations and long explanations and theories and such, whereas the interpretation that when John says "the world" he simply means "everybody" is a simple one to explain and support. No, it's not as wordy of a theory, but it is much stronger. Such an interpretation fits with a great many instances of the word kosmos in the New Testament.

    When one reads passages in which Reformed Christians say that "world" means only the Elect, or only the lost world, many of them do not boast nearly as clean a distinction as they might think. In fact, those who read these passages without an assumption of TULIP will not often find that such distinctions are apparent at all. This is because, as I often say, "Limited Atonement is a philosophical conclusion, not a Scriptural one." How can I say this? I can say this because the Bible does not explicitly limit the Atonement in the way that Reformed Theology does. No one would read only the Bible and come to such conclusions. Rather, one must read works by such men as Sproul, Piper, Calvin or Augustine in order to place such "discoveries" into Scripture. Interestingly enough, Augustine, the earliest teacher of what we would now call "Calvinism" or "Reformed Theology," gleaned much of his interpretational style from Gnosticism, a mix-breed between Early Christianity and pagan Persian philosophy (manicheism). This philosophy was passionately resisted by the Church Fathers (of which group Augustine is not a member, because he was born much too late in history - "Church Fathers" is a term applied to men who studied at the Apostles' feet, not merely influential men from ancient Christian history) because of its teachings of determinism and Total Depravity. The Apostles' earliest students zealously ousted the Gnostics from their fellowships, refusing to allow their teachings to invade the minds of their young students.

    John 3:17 is a good example of unclear distinctions. Someone who reads: "For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him" may or may not come away with the idea that Christ came only to save some and not all (and most would probably say that "world" means "everybody" in this instance). In fact, this verse on its own tells us very little about who "the world" truly is. But because of the philosophical assumption that God always gets what he wants (Reformed Christians call this his "sovereignty"), and if God always gets what he wants, and not all are saved, then God doesn't want all to be saved, and if God doesn't want all to be saved, then it makes no sense for him to die for all, Reformed Christians believe that it tells us that Jesus died only for those whom he wanted to save, and no others.

    Comparing Scripture with Scripture, however, yields very different results. The idea of Limited Atonement, according to the philosophical process I have recited, is clearly based on the idea that God's will is always accomplished. But this idea is false, for two Scriptural reasons. Firstly, it is false because God obviously doesn't always get what he wants. The Bible tells us this plainly. God is often angry. If he is getting everything he wants, he has no reason to be upset. Being angry that you have gotten your way is not a sign of intelligence or wisdom - it's a sign of lunacy. Secondly, the Bible tells us clearly that God prefers to show mercy versus meting out judgement (Ez. 18:23; Mi. 7:18; Ps. 145:17), and yet he judges. Thus, his preferences are being violated: he is not getting what he wanted.

    The philosophical basis for Limited Atonement is vacuous - it is no basis at all. Since Scripture is admittedly vague on this subject, but leans considerably toward "all" versus "some," it becomes apparent that Limited Atonement depends desperately upon that single philosophical assumption. Without that assumption, what are we left with?

    Put simply, we are left with passages like I John 2:2, Romans 5:15-19 and I Timothy 2:1-6. Yes, most of Scripture is vague on the extent and effect of the Atonement, but these passages are not - and without the philosophical assumption that God always has his way, their meaning is quite clear: God loves all, paid for the sins of all, and wishes for all to be saved.

    This is why we ought to pray for all people. Not simply because God asks that we love all people - but because he himself, as our example, loves all and wants them to come to a knowledge of the truth.

    Praise God that He is powerful enough to pay for the sins of all, and strong enough to refuse those who refuse him.