The Doctrines of Predestination, Reprobation, and Election

CHAPTER VI.

OBJECTIONS TO THE CALVINISTIC DOCTRINE OF ELECTION

(1.) We object, in the first place, to the Calvinistic doctrine of election, because it is absurd to call it election. The advocates of the three views of election mentioned stoutly maintain that the persons chosen are chosen unconditionally; in other words, they are chosen not on account of any mental or moral quality in them. It is on this account designated unconditional. There is nothing whatever in the persons chosen on which to ground the choice. Supposing this to be the case, can there be any choice, election? Mr. Robinson has put the case thus: “What is election? Is it possible to choose one of two things, excepting for reasons to be found in the things themselves? Ask a friend which of a number of oranges he will take. If he sees nothing in them to determine selection, he says, ‘I have no choice.’ Ask a blind man which of two oranges, that are out of his reach, he prefers, and you mock him by proposing an impossibility. If they are put near him, that he may feel them or smell them, or if by any other means he can judge between them, he can choose, otherwise he cannot choose. If they lie far from him, he may say, ‘Give me the one that lies to the east, or the west;’ but that is a lottery, an accident, chance, certainly no choice. Therefore, to assert that the cause of election is not in anything in the person chosen, is really to deny that there is any election. And it is a curious fact that the most vehement predestinarians, while they flatter themselves that they are the honoured advocates of the Divine decrees, by sequence set aside election altogether. Their hypothesis annihilates the very doctrine for which they are most zealous, and, if it may be said without irreverence, introduces the dice box into the counsels of heaven” (Bible Studies, p. 192). If we look into life, we always find that when we elect or choose, we do so because of something in the person or thing elected. It is so as regards food, drink, dress, houses, pictures, statues, books; it is so, too, as regards members of Parliament, ministers for pastorates, and in marriage. We are, indeed, so constituted that we cannot conceive of choice or election except upon the grounds of freedom in the elector, and something to differentiate the object chosen from others of like nature. The Confession of Faith says, however, that those who are predestinated unto life are chosen “without any foresight of faith or good works, or perseverance in either of them, or any other thing in the creation, as conditions or causes moving Him thereunto, and all to the praise of His glorious grace” (Con., chap. iii.) Yet the Bible says expressly, “But know that the Lord hath set apart him that is godly for himself” (Ps. iv. 3); “Hath not God chosen the poor in this world rich in faith?” (Jas. ii. 5.) There is a setting apart, or choosing, but it is not unconditional, as these verses show.

No doubt, the motive of those who hold unconditional election is good, arising from a desire to give all the glory of salvation to God, and from the frequency of the term “grace” in regard to our deliverance. But the great object of giving all the glory to God may be, and is accomplished, without doing violence to Scripture, or trampling upon common sense. The principle or system of Syenergism does this. It simply means that man is active in his own conversion. It was advocated in his later years by Melancthon. We have not, however, to do with the motive of our friends, but with the philosophy of the subject; and to assert that men are chosen to salvation apart from condition, is only assertion, and an absurd assertion, too. Try it in regard to anything, and its folly will be apparent. Why, then, insist upon it in religion? Are we to throw reason to the dogs when we speak on scriptural subjects?

(2.) In the second place, we object to the Calvinistic theory of election, because it ignores and tramples upon a primary principle of philosophy. The principle is this: “That a plurality of principles are not to be assumed when the phenomena can possibly be explained by one” (Hamilton’s Reid, p. 751).

It is what is known as the law of parsimony. The three views of election referred to have bound up with them, as an integral portion of the system, the theory of irresistible grace. Take this away, and they fall to pieces as a rope of sand. A man who has hitherto lived an ungodly life becomes converted, and the question arises—how are we to account for this moral phenomenon? Our friends from whom we differ account for it in this way: In the past eternity God saw that the man would come upon the stage of time, and determined to visit his soul with an irresistible influence, under the operation of which he became converted. Now this is to them a very satisfactory way of accounting for the conversion. But may not this change in the man take place without this tertiam quid, or third something? If it may, then to import it into the controversy is to violate the law of parsimony or maxim of philosophy, that it is wrong to multiply causes beyond what are necessary. But let us look at life: let us enter the sphere of human experience. We find men, for instance, who in politics were at one period pronounced Radicals, like Burdett, becoming Conservative in their opinions; and men, like the Peelites, changing from the Conservative side to that of the Liberals. In accounting for this we do not call in a mysterious and occult influence to solve the matter. It is explainable without this. Take the case of medicine. We find men educated in the allopathic system changing, and becoming disciples of Habnemann. Ask them how it came about, and they answer at once, that it was by considering the results. Take a case of intemperance, An old inebriate attends a temperance lecture, listens attentively, becomes persuaded of the value of abstinence, signs the pledge, and spends the remainder of his life a sober man. He loved the drink, and now he hates it. Ask him how it came about? He tells you at once that the facts and arguments of the lecture convinced him of the evil of the drink, and led him to abandon it for ever. A great change has been effected, but in perfect harmony with the known laws of mind. Let us now look at religion. Paul arrives at Corinth, and preaches the Gospel to the inhabitants of that degenerate city. They listened to the wondrous story of redeeming love, and became changed through means of it. Was there anything in the nature of the truth preached to them and believed by them fitted to do this? We think that there was. They had sins—were guilty. Paul told them of a Saviour who died for them. This met their case. They were degraded, foul; the religion Paul preached appealed to their sense of right, to their gratitude, to their fears and their hopes; and believing it, they became regenerated in their moral nature. They had been won to God by the “Gospel” (1 Cor. iv. 15). As temperance truth revolutionises the drunkard, so does Gospel truth the sinner (1 Peter i. 23, 25). The apostle was the agent employed by the Holy Spirit, and believing the message he brought, they were believing the Spirit (See 1 Samuel viii. 7). Since, then, the truth believed is a sufficient reason for the change, why introduce the theory of irresistible grace? It may be replied that this kind of grace is used to get the sinner to attend to the message.

But attention to any subject is brought about by considering motives. Man has the power over his attention. It is the possession of this power which is a main item in constituting him a responsible being. He may or may not attend to the voice of God. If he attends to it he lives; if not, he dies. If God used force in this matter, why reason with men and appeal to them as He does?

We appeal to Christian consciousness. Let any Christian give a reason of the hope that is in him—and it is all perfectly reasonable. All through, in the great matter of conversion, he acted freely. He attended to the Divine message—but there was no compulsion. Why, then, insist upon irresistibility when it is repudiated by Christian consciousness? We know no reason for it but the exigencies of the system. If you are waiting for it you are being deceived.

(3.) We object, in the third place, to the Calvinistic view of election, because it makes God a respecter of persons. What is it to be a respecter of persons? Literally, it means “an accepter of faces.” According to the Imperial Dictionary, it signifies “a person who regards the external circumstances of others in his judgment, and suffers his opinion to be biased by them, to the prejudice of candour, justice, and equity.” It is to act with partiality. It is of the utmost moment that respect of persons should not be shown in the domestic circle, on the bench; or in the church. If a father shows favouritism to one son less worthy, say, than the others, he lays himself open to the charge of partiality, unevenness in his procedure, and it tends to alienate the affections of his other children. To show it on the bench is to sully the ermine, and bring the administration of justice into disrepute. Whoever else may exhibit it, the church is required to have clean hands in the matter (James ii.)

We are so constituted that we cannot love or hate by a mere fiat of the will. Before we can love one another with complacency, there must be the perception of excellence. And it is the same as regards God. Hence it is of the last importance that to our mental view He should be pure, holy, impartial, good. To love Him if we thought Him otherwise, would be impossible. Now God has abundantly shown, both in providence and in the Bible, that He is not a respecter of persons. He executes His laws indiscriminately—upon all alike. Fire burns, poison kills, water drowns all and sundry. If the laws of health are broken, the penalty is enforced on each transgressor according to the measure of his transgression. It is the same with moral penalties. If a man lies, or steals, or is mean, or selfish, he will suffer moral deterioration, which will pass through his moral being as a leprosy. Our physical, mental, and moral natures are thus under their respective laws, and whosoever breaks these laws God executes the penalty on the transgressor. There is in this respect no favouritism—no respect of persons.

There are, as a matter of course, diversities upon earth. All cannot occupy the same place. We have not the brilliancy and luxuriancy of the tropics, but we have our compensations. And it is the same with life in general. In comparison with the rich the poor have a rough road to travel, but they are not without their compensations. The moral life is the higher life of man, and in the stern school of adversity there are developed noble traits of character.

The diversities we find in life are not arbitrary acts, as we have already seen, but dependent upon adherence or non-adherence to law.

The same great principle that regulates the providential government of God, is brought clearly out in the Scriptures. It is remarked by Cruden that “God appointed that the judges should pronounce their sentences without any respect of persons (Lev. xix. 15; Deut i. 17); that they should consider neither the poor nor the rich, nor the weak nor the powerful, but only attend to truth and justice, and give sentence according to the merits of the cause.” It is said in Proverbs that it is not good to have respect of persons in judgment (Prov. xxiv. 23). Peter declared that there is no respect of persons with God; and Paul said, “For there is no respect of persons with God” (Romans ii. 11). James declared that if the Christians to whom he wrote showed respect of persons they committed sin (James ii. 9).

The Bible is thus exceedingly careful to guard the Divine character from the charge of partiality. And obviously so. Let but the idea be entertained in the mind for a moment, and it leaves a slime behind it as if a serpent had passed through the corridor of our dwelling. The simple question then is, Does this doctrine of Calvinistic election exhibit God as a respecter of persons? It clearly does so. According to it, God, irrespective of any conditions in the creature, appoints a certain number to be saved and leaves the rest to perish. And is not this partiality? Is not this favouritism? Since the doctrine thus reflects on the Divine character, it deserves condemnation.

(4.) In the fourth place, we object to the Calvinistic doctrine of election, because it is opposed to the letter and spirit of many passages of the Bible. We beg attention to a few. Consider the Oath of God. “As I live, saith the Lord, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but that the wicked turn from his way and live. Turn ye, turn ye, from your evil way, for why will ye die, O house of Israel?” (Ezek. xxxiii. 11). Would not any one reading these words naturally conclude that God really wished all the people to be saved? Have they not a ring of genuine sincerity about them? We cannot conceive that such a question would have been asked, viz., “Why will ye die?” had their death been inevitable. Not only was it not inevitable, but the earnest entreaty to return showed that God intensely desired their salvation. Yet, if Calvinism is true, the oath of God and His earnest entreaty, as far as millions of the human race are concerned, are simply as sounding brass and a tinkling cymbal. Nay, more, they are a solemn mockery. I see two men floundering in deep water; I jump into my boat and save one, and bring him safely to shore. I could easily have saved the other had I wished it, but did not. Were I then to stand on the bank of the river and ask the sinking man, Why will you die? what would be thought of me, or any man, who should act such a part? Such conduct would be cruel, cruel to any poor soul in its death-struggle. Yet this is exactly the part God is made to perform by the high Calvinists, and is endorsed by their more modern brethren. He could easily save every one if He wished it, they say: But this assertion cannot stand in the presence of God’s oath and His earnest entreaty to turn and live.

The Vineyard.—Let us look at the case of the vineyard, as recorded in Isaiah v. The house of Israel is there compared to a vineyard which God had planted. After detailing what had been done, the question is asked, “What could have been done more to my vineyard that I have not done in it? wherefore, when I looked that it should bring forth grapes, brought it forth wild grapes?” (verse 4). The moral condition of Israel was anything but good. God had looked for judgment, but there was oppression, and for righteousness, but behold a cry! Yet the question in this fourth verse carries the idea that He had done all that He wisely could, in the circumstances, to reform and save them. But they were not reformed, they were not saved. It might indeed be affirmed that this was because they had not been visited by “special influence,” or converting grace. But if this kind of grace is the only kind that is fructifying, and was for sovereign reasons withheld, how could the question be asked, “What could have been done more to my vineyard that I have not done in it?” The one thing needful had not been done, if this hypothesis is true, and in view of it the question could not have been put at all. But it was put, and this shows that God had done all that He wisely could do to save the people, and that He did not keep back the needed grace, for which Calvinists contend.

Christ’s Tears over Jerusalem.—The tears of our Lord over the city of Jerusalem are a clear demonstration against the Calvinistic doctrine of election. It is said, “When He was come near, He beheld the city, and wept over it, saying, If thou hadst known, even thou, at least in this thy day, the things which belong unto thy peace! but now they are hid from thine eyes” (Luke xix. 41, 42). When a woman weeps it is not an infrequent phenomenon. Her nerves are more finely strung than man’s, and a touching tale or sympathetic story brings the tears to her eyes and sobs from her lips. When men weep it indicates deep emotion; and when Christ looked upon the city, His soul was moved with compassion, and He wept. He knew what had been done for the guilty inhabitants—how God had borne with them—and the doom that, like the sword of Damocles, hung over them, and His tender heart found relief in tears. In the presence of this weeping Redeemer can we entertain the Calvinistic notion that He could easily have saved the people, if He had only wished it? He wished to gather them as a hen doth her chickens under her wings, but they would not come. Were there not another passage in the Bible than the one just referred to (Matthew xxiii. 37), it is sufficient to dispose of the theory that God uses irresistible grace in saving men. He had used the most powerful motives to bring them to himself, but they would not come.

John Wesley, in writing on Predestination, says,—“Let it be observed that this doctrine represents our blessed Lord Jesus Christ, the righteous, the only-begotten Son of the Father, full of grace and truth, as an hypocrite, a deceiver of the people, a man void of common sincerity. For it cannot be denied that He everywhere speaks as if He was willing that all men should be saved. Therefore, to say that He was not willing that all men should be saved, is to represent Him as a mere hypocrite and dissembler. It cannot be denied that the gracious words which came out of His mouth are full of invitations to all sinners. To say, then, He did not intend to save all sinners, is to represent Him as a gross deceiver of the people. You cannot deny that He says, ‘Come unto me all ye that are weary and heavy laden.’ If, then, you say He calls those that cannot come, those whom He knows to be unable to come, those whom He can make able to come but will not; how is it possible to describe greater insincerity? You represent Him as mocking His helpless creatures, by offering what He never intends to give. You describe Him as saying one thing and meaning another, as pretending the love which He had not. Him in whose mouth was no guile, you make full of deceit, void of common sincerity; then, especially when drawing nigh the city He wept over it, and said, ‘O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets and stonest them that are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy children together, and ye would not.’ Now, if ye say they would but He would not, you represent Him (which who could hear) as weeping crocodile’s tears; weeping over the prey which himself had doomed to destruction” (Ser. 128).