The September, 2006 cover of Christianity Today pictures a young adult in a tee shirt with an image of early American Congregationalist pastor, theologian, and evangelist, Jonathan Edwards. In a distinct, postmodern font, the shirt says, “Jonathan Edwards is my homeboy.” The cover of the magazine reads, “Young, Restless, Reformed. Calvinism is making a comeback—and shaking up the church.”

In my own life and ministry, I can confirm that Calvinism is making a comeback . . . as well as a renewed interest in theology and church history in general. The seeker-sensitive, mega-church trend of the 1970s, 80s, and 90s is, I believe, fading into its twilight. Younger generations of both believers and theologians are embracing an evangelical theology that taps into its historical roots and draws generously from the deep doctrinal wells of the community of faith—both past and present. The resurgence in Calvinism is part of this trend.

What, exactly, is Calvinism? What does it mean to be “Reformed”? Is it the same as Covenant theology? Is it a good thing or a bad thing? Does it matter?

The Road (Back) to the Reformation

When I was a high school student at a secular school, I learned only two things about John Calvin (1509–1564)—the father of Calvinist theology: 1) he believed people were predestined for hell, and 2) he burned Michael Servetus at the stake. When I became a Christian and attended Philadelphia College of Bible, I actually read Calvin (and Michael Servetus!) and I realized that he had been unfairly caricatured and demonized . . . even by Christians. And in one of my doctrine classes with Charles Ryrie I slowly became convinced of the key Calvinist doctrines. My own awakening into Calvinism was a gradual process of unlearning and relearning, coming to terms with what the Bible actually says (not what I wish it said) about issues like free will, sin and guilt, grace, faith, predestination, and all these major issues that distinguish Roman Catholic from Protestant theology. I began to believe that evangelical theology that rejected Calvinism was unwittingly stumbling into the murky swampland of medieval Roman Catholic salvation—the idea that we cooperate with God to be saved.

In the end, I embraced Calvinism as the best expression of the theology of the reformation and the most biblically-faithful explanation of the doctrine of salvation. So, in a large part, I am personally part of the resurgence of Calvinism that Christianity Today was describing. (But, no, Jonathan Edwards is not my homeboy.)

This often comes as a shock to those who, like me, were raised thinking that Calvinism violates free will, that it relieves Christians of the responsibility for missions, that it predestines people to hell, and that it requires you to believe in amillennialism, infant baptism, and allegorical interpretations of Scripture. None of these things are true, and foolish statements like these are best left unsaid. A professor at Philadelphia College of Bible convinced me that a person can hold to the Calvinist or “Reformed” doctrine of salvation while also embracing a Baptist view of the church and a premillennial, dispensational view of the end times. There have always been Calvinist Baptists, Calvinist Prebysterians, and Calvinist Congregationalists.

So, we need to realize that the recent upsurge in Calvinism is not a “take-over” by a hostile heresy or attack by dangerous doctrines. Both Dallas Seminary and my local church home, Scofield Memorial Church, have deep historical roots in American Calvinist theology. In fact, one could make a case that a rejection of Calvinism over the last several decades reflects a deviation from the original, rich theological soil of our Bible Church tradition.

Calvinism Clarified

So, what do Calvinists actually believe?

Through the centuries, Reformed theology has communicated its essential doctrines with five “points” summarized by the acrostic, “TULIP.” These are: Total depravity, Unconditional election, Limited atonement, Irresistible grace, and Perseverance of the saints.

Because of the fall, the human mind, emotions, and will are totally depraved—lost and unable to respond to God’s salvation without His quickening Spirit giving us the ability to believe (Romans 3:9–10; 8:7–8). If all human beings throughout history are lost and already condemned, and if God must act first to save anybody, then God must choose to save those who are saved (Acts 13:48; Romans 9; Ephesians 1:3–6). He thus elects those He will save unconditionally, not based on anything they have done or will do. Next, the controversial doctrine of limited atonement does not teach that Christ’s blood is insufficient to pay for all sins, but that in the purpose of God’s election, Christ died only for the eternal benefit of the Church (see Ephesians 5:25–27). Because God chose who will be saved, all of the elect will come to believe through the prayers and preaching of believers, and no non-elect will accidentally believe. God’s grace for those whose mind is illuminated is irresistible (John 6:44; 10:27; Acts 2:39; Romans 8:29–30). Finally, those that God elected, called, and saved by grace through faith can never lose their salvation. True saints will persevere in faith until the end and are therefore saved eternally (John 10:27–29; Romans 8:29–39; Ephesians 2:8–10).

This five-point doctrine of salvation represents the essence of “Calvinist” or “Reformed” theology. It also represents several distinguishing marks of Protestant versus Catholic views of salvation and taps into the roots of our own conservative, fundamentalist, and even dispensationalist heritage, regardless of the drifts and deviations of the past several generations.

Whether or not you agree with Reformed theology, in light of its recent revival and resurgence believers ought to at least be aware of what Calvinism really is—and is not. And, as always, we must consult the Scriptures before either embracing or dismissing current trends in theology.

There are a number of passages in the New Testament to which four-point Calvinists refer in debates against those who hold to the doctrine of “limited” or “particular” atonement (e.g., 2 Peter 2:1; 1 John 2:2; 1 Timothy 2:4–6; 4:10; Hebrews 2:9; and Acts 17:30). Indeed, the arguments on either side of the exegesis are not air tight. One of the most difficult passages for those who hold to limited atonement is 1 John 2:2, which says, “He Himself is the propitiation for our sins; and not for ours only, but also of the whole world.” The phrase “the whole world” later in 1 John 5:19 seems to refer to all people without exception—especially unbelievers. At the level of pure exegetical considerations—isolated and insulated from its historical and theological context—the passage seems, as Ryrie says, “to say rather clearly that the death of Christ was for the whole world” (Ryrie, Basic Theology, 321).

However, if we open our interpretation of 1 John 2:2 to the insights of the historical and theological context, the picture becomes, well, less clear than critics of limited atonement may think. The Martyrdom of Polycarp was written around AD 155 by Christians in Smyrna shortly after their bishop, Polycarp, was martyred in the stadium there. Polycarp, recall, was a personal disciple of the apostle John, and was—according to reliable tradition—one of many Asian pastors who had been ordained into pastoral ministry by John while he lived in Ephesus. In fact, if the “angels” of Revelation 2 and 3 refer to the pastors (or bishops) of those churches, as some commentators say, Polycarp may have been the “angel” of the church of Smyrna. Anyway, Polycarp is also one of the earliest witnesses we have of 1 John, as he seems to rely on 1 John 3:8 and 4:2–3 in his Letter to the Philippians 7. In short, Polycarp knew John’s writings and probably knew John himself.

With this historical background in mind, the statement of the Smyrnaeans in Martyrdom of Polycarp 17.2 is rather interesting as we consider the issue of 1 John 2:2 and debates between those who hold to limited atonement and those who do not. The Smyrnaeans wrote: “They [the pagans] did not know that we [Christians] will never be able either to abandon the Christ who suffered for the salvation of the whole world of those who are saved, the blameless on behalf of sinners, or to worship anyone else.”

So, the Smyrnaeans refer to the “whole world” with the exact language as the apostle John in reference not to all people everywhere, but to the world of the saved. That is to say, Christ is savior of the “catholic” church. He not only died for the sins of their own community in Asia Minor (as local deities or gods might be the “savior” of that particular community), but also for the sins of the whole world (as the universal savior of all believers throughout the world).

This passage in Martyrdom of Polycarp may amount to an indirect commentary or interpretation of 1 John 2:2. In fact, it could very well reflect the apostle John’s intended meaning of that passage. If the Smyrnaean authors of Martyrdom were reflecting Polycarp’s understanding of 1 John 2:2 (which to me is almost certain), Polycarp may have been relaying John’s original understanding of that phrase (which is possible), since Polycarp knew John.

A good friend of mine has pointed out that John Owen refers to this statement by the Smyrnaeans as patristic testimony for limited atonement in his Death of Death (Banner of Truth edition, page 310). Owen does not, however, elaborate on the implications of this statement by the Smyrnaeans with regard to their personal (and therefore theological) relationship to John through Polycarp.

Those who hold to limited atonement may feel that their own interpretation of 1 John 2:2 is strengthened by these historical considerations, since we might have a window (through Polycarp) into the apostle John’s own intention of the passage. However, those who reject limited atonement may still do so, even appealing to their own understanding of this and other passages. But to be fair, those who reject limited atonement can not claim that 1 John 2:2 is a clear proof text against that irritating third point of Calvinism.