Let us, for a moment, imagine ourselves at an earlier point in time.  Let us think of that place in history when all of the Christians in the western world answered to a single authority in a place called Rome.  All of our religious thoughts, actions, and devotion must be directed by that singular figure on a throne in the Vatican.  In fact, it was this one man who, through his agents or alone, had the power to determine your very eternal fate.  And this extended to all, from the kings and emperors of all the lands down to the lowliest peasant.  All were expected to reverence and fear this man as if he were God Himself.

            But suddenly, all this begins to change.  Various voices of reform start to call out a different message; a message more firmly rooted in the ancient original documents of the faith.  Many see this “new” message as the right path, others are more drawn to the charisma of the men proclaiming it, and still others patriotically follow one of the several national leaders who are going this new way.  The hearing of this message gives you a sense of liberation from the bonds and rigors of the old way and its solitary man in Rome who yet demands your fealty and expects you to stand against this tide of reformation.

            So you remain adherent to this “evangelical” message as preached by those who later came to be called “the protestants.”  You seem to instinctively understand that it is not really the Church after all that controls your personal relationship with God.  You watch the movement as it grows, and observe that it is beginning to follow the same course of organization that any new association takes.  It still clings to certain aspects of the old structure (as much as it finds to be useful), yet at the same time it comes up with new ways to strengthen and distinguish itself.  And finally, one of the major forces in this process appears on the horizon.  His name is John Calvin.

            Today’s pop culture might refer to Calvin as a “nerd” or a “geek.”  He was a studious and intelligent man with clear and definite ideas.  He seemed particularly adept at building on the foundation already established a generation before by other reforming giants.  His ability to communicate and defend those ideas was enviable to his peers and his foes alike.  And those ideas rang out as a jarring response to the perceived excesses of the previous order.

            As the movement he was associated with gained momentum, Calvin searched for ways to articulate the differences in theology that must of necessity come from the break with the old Catholic order.  His great zeal to explain why the Protestant Christian did not have to worry about separation from the centralized papal authority sent him to the Scriptural texts, where he diligently searched for proof that Rome had amassed far too much power, and the burden of the determination of the believer’s standing with God lay elsewhere.  And so, resting on such a favorable beginning, today’s Calvinist takes much pride in having an air-tight, consolidated and coherently logical theological and soteriological (meaning “the study of salvation”) system in which to believe.  This system may also be known either as “reformed” teaching or as “sovereign grace” doctrine.

            But what things in the old system were cast out in Calvin’s Protestant theology, and what things could have been ejected but were not?  Was Calvin’s direction really the only plausible one?  Did he go too far, or perhaps not far enough?  Such questions as these ineluctably must be examined with the perspective of “twenty-twenty hindsight,” as many such historical topics are.  Yet much controversy persists between those who continue in Calvin’s footsteps and Protestants of a different theological stripe.

Polarization

            The first and most obvious step toward an understanding of this controversy would be a comparison of medieval Catholicism with the nascent Protestantism of the sixteenth century.  The most glaring factor is the accumulation of power which had led to the supremacy of papal authority over the Church as a whole, the local churches in any particular nation, and its members individually.  Personally or through intermediaries such as priests and bishops the Pope could excommunicate a person or interdict an entire nation if he felt they had strayed too far from the established path. Calvin considered this to be excessive control that could be exercised in matters of which the pontiff himself may or may not have had personal knowledge.

            It is a sad fact of history that all too often groups of people, Christians included, tend to react in extreme ways when they rise up to respond to error, injustice, fanatical behavior, or even merely poor judgment.  Rather than relying on balance and reasoning from the Scriptures, the Church unfortunately sometimes will retreat to an antithesis to the problem, creating a new problem at the other end of the spectrum of ideas.  Thus when it occurred to the Protestant movement that they needed to give a theological reply to the concept of centralized church authority which extended even to the level of determining the salvation of persons despite the condition of their own hearts and spirits, they sought a way by which the determination of one’s state of relationship with God could be shown to be completely out of the hands of human authority figures.  However, the extreme that was finally arrived at took such a determination out of the hands of the very individual himself.

            According to Calvin’s system of reformed theology, it is God alone who can determine the individual’s status as a believer.  All human beings are portrayed as being so depraved in spirit and will that we are rendered unable to make right choices of our own volition.  Therefore, God must make those choices for us without regard to any input or cooperation from us.  This concept succeeds in removing the matter from the hands of the church authorities with whom it did not belong, but also carries it to a point where a person’s response to God’s call is superfluous at best.  It is here where, according to the theology of “sovereign grace,” God might allow us the illusion of free will by placing the desire within us to receive His call without waiting for us to decide, by the persuading of the Holy Spirit, to produce this desire within ourselves.

            From this perspective, the reasons for Calvin’s doctrines are clearer.  From today’s viewpoint however, we tend to frame any disagreements we might have with Calvin in terms of the debate with James (a.k.a. Jacob or Jacobus) Arminius, despite the fact that Arminius was only about three and a half years old when Calvin died.  Thus Calvin himself could never have heard of a Calvinism-Arminianism debate, only of a Reformation-Romism debate; to him, that was the source of any contention.  When Arminius came of age and entered the scene, he was trained in all the ways of the reformed faith by none less than Theodore Beza, who had been Calvin’s successor at Geneva.  Yet it became the more ardent disciples of Calvin, particularly a colleague of Arminius named Franciscus Gomarus (a.k.a. Francis Gomar) at Leiden University, who perpetuated and strengthened the tenets of their teacher and chose not to accept the younger scholar’s attempts at moderating and reforming the reformers.  This all boiled  to a froth in 1619 at a synod at Dort (a.k.a. Dordrecht, a city in Holland) several years after Arminius’s death, where an official assembly of reformed theologians rejected the Remonstrance of 1610, a document in which the followers of Arminius set forth certain points which they felt were needed corrections in reformed teaching.  However, by that time the sovereign grace proponents had had sufficient time to develop the typical institutional closed-mindedness, and branded the “remonstrants” as trouble-makers and dangers to society and promptly began a period of bitter persecution against them.  Let’s look to Switzerland to find out how this type of influence came to be possible.

An experiment in Geneva

            In light of Calvin’s view of the problems associated with authoritarianism as it was demonstrated in the old Catholic order, it seems quite incongruous that he would go into Geneva and become a chief organizer of the city.  Many church historians (at least, the ones who do not gloss over this period) pass along the reports of the abuses of power committed by Calvin in the burning of heretics, mistreatment of other protestants who were from the Anabaptist camp, and the use of his ecclesiastical power to promote his theocratic agenda.  He had become known (perhaps unfairly) in some circles as “the man who burned Servetus” (Michael Servetus, who got into trouble with the Catholics for an attempt to, among other things, revise the doctrine of the Trinity), and even though some will argue he did it reluctantly, others assert that he opposed the stake in favor of decapitation.  Nevertheless, under the influence of Calvin’s preaching and spiritual guidance, Geneva’s leadership, according to one source, had fifty-seven others put to death and seventy-six exiled for various sins and heresies during a five-year period.

            We cannot evade the parallel between Calvin and the medieval Popes in terms of how a religious leader can exercise near-absolute influence over a civil government.  For even though he held no official civil post, Calvin was for all intents and purposes the chief moral authority of the city, and as such had the most substantial influence in all matters in a society which recognized no distinction between state and church.

            There is much conflicting documentation available about all this, and many still debate what really happened in Geneva and whether it was in fact a conscious attempt at theocracy; yet there is no escaping the fact that Calvin was the most powerful man in a city which adopted such an austere form of Protestant-led governance.  This ignoble attempt, hardly worthy of emulation, is for some in today’s Reformed camp a source of embarrassment, but others see it as a natural outcome in view of the developments and practices of the period.

Cult of personality, 16th century style

            When reading the books, periodicals, and websites of modern-day Calvinists, it doesn’t take long to notice their pompousness, harshness, and occasionally downright hatred of believers who try to respectfully disagree.  You will usually, if you engage the mildest of debates, be machine-gunned with endless parsing of trivial Greek language minutiae in great detail, harangued with proof-text after proof-text, and then falsely sympathized with for your audacious ignorance.  You may also find yourself regarded as a permanently hell-bound heretic for daring to question even the smallest point of their version of anything.  This attitude appears to have had its beginnings just after the afore-mentioned synod of Dort, from which proceeded a six-year period of persecution of the Arminian believers.  Even in Roman Catholicism, the doctrine of papal infallibility was not officially declared until 1870, giving Calvin’s followers a 251-year head-start.

            It can, I admit, be a little bit entertaining to see a Calvinist attempt to explain why, if God is all-powerful in respect to the predetermination of our fate, He would allow or perhaps even create some of His Christians to be either Catholic or Arminian in their belief.  It will usually require many grunts and groans before even the most thoughtful of adherents to sovereign grace theology will admit that those who do not agree with every little point of their system are Christians, too.  Even with all of that, it is never conceded by these devotees that Calvin could have possibly missed it on any position he took.  Yet the annoying and dogmatic manner in which most Calvinists approach those who might disagree with any of their characteristic points is not really my main problem with them.

It’s not what you know, but Who you know

            Of course, the intellectual skill with which these systematic theologies were formulated is truly impressive, and I don’t wish to indicate by any means that Calvin was an idiot or that he was completely wrong about everything.  There are in fact many excellent and beautiful passages scattered throughout Calvin’s Institutes and other of his works (I happen to particularly like chapters 2 and 3 concerning self-denial in On the Christian Life).  But as usual, when certain things are emphasized, certain other things are unfortunately passed over.  When this occurs, those who make an attempt to raise questions are esteemed as at best mere troublemakers, if not downright obstreperous heretics.

            When we “troublemakers” dare to assert a divergent position, the usual reply is, as I have stated above, for the reformed scholar to begin a tedious exercise of dissecting the details of a proof-passage to a greater degree than necessary, and going to great lengths to show us how a passage that expresses a problem with their position doesn’t really mean what it plainly says (please, people—this is the Word of God; there is no such thing as a “problem passage”).  Some have even gone so far as to create a “t-bar,” listing verses down one column for one position and down the other column for the other position, and attempted to show that one set is better that the other.

            I must confess that it took me a very long time to learn not to let my human intellect run away with itself by imagining that it was some kind of mental triumph to “strain at gnats and swallow camels.”  Any student of the Bible must keep in mind the general context while not getting so involved with fine detail that we lose sight of the real thrust of that which God means to show us.  God didn’t write a Bible that would keep His truth back from the simple folk; if anything He “chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise … that no man should boast before God.”  (See I Corinthians 1:27-29)

            None of us can claim to comprehend the interplay between the foreknowledge God has of our choices and His determination of the path of guidance He places us on to lead us into His plan for us—after all, we are told clearly that we did not choose Him, but He chose us before the foundation of the world.  But I know that such interplay does happen, for the Bible does mention these two things in connection together as a hint to us that God is neither capricious nor arbitrary as to the basis of His will.  We are not left completely out in the cold when it comes to accepting or rejecting His will.  There are many things taught in Scripture that thus exceed human understanding, such as the Trinity, the many ideas concerning creation, the great flood, the last days, etc.; yet we still believe these things to be true.  May God help us not to venerate our own powers of reason.  However, this inclination toward the intellectualistic application of the Scriptures by those who are self-admittedly totally depraved is still not my main problem with them.

Hyper-anybody

            Some may argue that the attitudes that I have encountered are not typically representative of genuine Calvinism, but are actually “hyper-Calvinism.”  I am then usually told that I shouldn’t be such a “hyper-Arminian.”  I then had to go and research how we all came to be so hyper.

            Certain subdivisions that I found within the Calvinist camp did not help me to understand this supposed difference at all.  Some talk about being “four-pointers” as opposed to the usual “five-pointers,” referring to the five points of difference outlined by the synod of Dort between the standard reformed teaching and the Arminian teaching which challenged it (rather than unnecessarily lengthening this article, I’ll leave the reader to investigate the acronym TULIP on your own if it is unfamiliar to you).  However, most inside and outside the reformed camp who really understand the implications of these ideas agree that this theology can only truly stand on all five of its pillars.  Another source told of how Calvinists were divided into supralapsarians and infralapsarians (again, I will let the reader look these up if you wish—but trust me, it really, really doesn’t matter).

            The main difference as I understand it (and I may be just a bit off-base here) between regular and “hyper” Calvinistic views is the sense of fatalism that accompanies the fullest impact of the implication that God makes all our choices concerning salvation for us.  Calvin himself taught that man must participate in God’s work on the earth, and indeed many of his followers have started or strongly cooperated with solid education and evangelistic programs as well as charitable acts and other forms of altruistic work.  On the other hand, those who may be considered “hyper” seem to feel that since God has it all worked out and there is nothing man can really do about it, then why bother with such participation?  This attitude may be summed up in a response given to William Carey, known as the “father of modern missions,” by a minister named Dr. Ryland.  The story goes that when Carey presented his desire to travel abroad to preach the gospel, he was told, “young man: sit down!  When God pleases to convert the heathen, He will do it without your aid or mine!”

Total absurdity

            Mankind undoubtedly has many flaws.  Man’s inhumanity to man is an obvious fact; as is our uncanny ability to blindly, like lemmings, follow charismatic leaders to our own undoing.  Our inane and stupid behavior, particularly in our adolescent years, is a testimony to our arrogance and impetuousness.  We claim to love our fellow man, but the way that we participate in “charity” betrays a desire to insulate ourselves at an arm’s distance from any inconvenient self-sacrifice.  Yet our desire for freedom and dignity remains intact despite efforts of such academicians as B. F. Skinner in the world of psychology, or of reformed theologians, to render those virtues superfluous.  The power to make our own decisions, for better or worse, remains evidently within us.

            Many analogies are used in Scripture to illustrate and help us understand the variegated facets of our relationship with our God.  Among the dominant ones are the Lord (or King) and His subjects, the Groom and His bride, the Father and His children, and the Shepherd and His sheep.  Yet in none of these are the ones on the deferential side of the relationship portrayed as having no sense of their own.  And even in the lesser-used illustrations such as the Potter and the clay or the Head of the body, the part of the inferior side of the equation are anthropomorphized so that for the purpose of the argument they are cautioned not to speak assertively: “why have You made me this way?” (says the clay to the potter) or “I have no need of you” (says the eye to the hand).  An undue emphasis must not be placed on the dominance of the superior element in these relationships in their totality; we are never left with the impression from these illustrative relationships that He is the Puppeteer and we the puppet, or that He is the Programmer and we the automaton.

            But does it harm the idea of the sovereignty of an almighty God to say that His predetermination of our fate is wrapped up in the foreknowledge of our free decision making process?  Does that concept necessitate that God’s management of our lives is in effect a total control?  If the above illustrations are a guide to us, then we must see God as the Good Parent, setting boundaries for His children without needing to oversee their every move.  A good king will set laws and decrees for his subjects which offer role defining and civilization-building guidelines by which the citizens can find their place in the society without the need for “micro-management.”  The inclusion of our free moral choices as a part of the allowances made simply means that the notion of correction and/or punishment for crossing those boundaries given us is just and righteous.  This is exactly the point that Arminius and his followers were attempting to present, and despite his imperfections, it still remains a valid observation.

The real problem

            When the soaring and exceedingly wonderful truth of the Gospel is presented to modern non-believers, some of the saddest characteristics of we Christians in the West go on exhibition.  Our tendency is, and has been for many generations, to take either an emotional approach or a primarily intellectual one.  If an emotional response is sought from a potential convert, the result is too often a false understanding that Christianity is something that is felt subjectively; that the brain can be checked at the church door while we go in to seek for some sort of spiritual “high.”  Most often, such an attitude has little effect if any on the lifestyle or witness of these believers at home, among their family, in the workplace, etc.

            A different problem surfaces when the intellectualistic approach is used.  A non-believer generally leaves such encounters feeling as though the Gospel can be reduced to a set of historical particulars which can be received as facts or argued against as myths.  Many skeptics are well-versed in their comebacks to these tactics, and soon the Christian discovers that apologetics and reason can only get you so far.  This is the unfortunate tendency of the Calvinist; because the reformed presentation of the faith is such a carefully reasoned out theology, the witness will lean heavily in favor of that emphasis since that is his or her primary orientation concerning the nature of the truth.

            Christianity can rightly be said to be more than a religion in the aspect that we are not merely to worship or appease our God but to actually enter into relationship with Him.  A religion can be said to be on a higher level than an ethic, because an ethic is a lifestyle that may or may not include association with a deity.  An ethic is on a plane above a philosophy, because a philosophy may only be within one’s mindset and not necessarily work its way out into one’s lifestyle.  Thus the presenting of the Gospel in the same manner as we would present a philosophy lowers the value of the discussion a full three “notches,” thereby cheapening its perceived worth from the aspect of the hearer.

            (Although I’m adding a few new elements in this discussion, I feel as though I’m being somewhat redundant here because I have written elsewhere about the problems inherent in representing genuine Christianity in terms of a set of doctrines with little or no attention to other aspects of the faith we possess—see the article Winning the Argument Without Winning the Soul linked below).

            The reduction of such a rich relationship with God to a level comparable to mere philosophy has become the dominant feature of the modern Calvinist’s approach in presenting the Gospel to those outside the faith, and this is my main problem with them.  Their imperative is that one must give mental assent to all the correct points of theology, and then one is truly saved.  This even tends to be the basis of discussion whether the one with the opposing viewpoint is a believer or not.