Would It Be Coherent to Save Those Who Were Never Lost?
The question: “Would it be coherent to save those who were never lost?” arises from the following consideration: If the saved were never lost and the lost could never be saved, then the narrative of redemption is not a living and transformative message but a mechanized drama, written and enacted without the genuine participation of its creatures.
Would It Be Coherent to Save Those Who Were Never Lost?
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One of the pillars of Calvinist thought is the doctrine of the perseverance of the saints, which categorically asserts that once saved, a person remains saved forever. This understanding is rooted in the idea of divine election and predestination: if someone was saved, it means they were elected by God from eternity, and therefore, they could never lose that condition.
The Westminster Confession of Faith, a crucial document of Reformed thought, summarizes this doctrine with precision:
“Those whom God has accepted in His Beloved, effectively called and sanctified by His Spirit, can neither totally nor finally fall away from the state of grace; but shall certainly persevere therein to the end, and be eternally saved.”
If we accept this premise, unsettling implications arise. If the elect can never be lost, then the non-elect never had the possibility of salvation. Such duality suggests a narrative where the eternal damnation of many and the salvation of a few were sealed even before the first breath of life. In this case, the issue is not merely theological; it is existential. If the elect were never truly lost, what is the purpose of saving them?
Creation and the “Make-Believe”
If God, before creating man, sovereignly decreed not only his existence but also his fall, and even discriminated between those who would be saved and those who would be condemned, then the drama of Eden takes on unsettling contours. The narrative of the fall ceases to be an event loaded with risk and responsibility and becomes a theatrical piece, a “make-believe” where the lines of the script were written before the story even began.
The elect, although considered sinners for a moment, were never truly lost, as their salvation was guaranteed before time began. Thus, the preaching of the gospel would not, in this case, be a genuine offer but a formality—a kind of ritual that merely confirms what was already determined.
And what about the non-elect? Those destined for eternal damnation from the beginning never experienced the reality of a legitimate offer of salvation. In that case, the good news of the gospel becomes fiction for them, a promise that was never intended to be fulfilled.
The Gospel as Performance?
If the doctrine of irrevocable predestination is taken to this logical conclusion, Christ did not come to rescue the lost but merely to execute a preordained decree. The cross, which should be the pinnacle of divine love and redemption, becomes a formality. After all, how could there be real risk or a need for rescue for those who were never truly in danger? And how could there be genuine hope for those who never had a chance?
The core objection to this Calvinist perspective is that it threatens to strip the gospel of its authenticity. If the saved were never lost and the lost could never be saved, then the narrative of redemption is not a living, transformative message but a mechanized drama, written and staged without the genuine participation of its creatures.
A Call to Reflection
It is essential to affirm the inerrancy of Scripture, emphasizing that the Word of God is perfect and trustworthy. However, it is equally necessary to acknowledge that misguided readings by some have led to grave theological deviations, resulting from deeply human limitations and inclinations. These deviations often reflect interpretations based on erroneous assumptions or particular interests rather than faithful submission to the text and context of Scripture. How can we reconcile a doctrine that seems to limit God’s freedom with the fullness of the gospel, which proclaims itself as “the power of God for the salvation of everyone who believes”?
When examining this doctrine critically, we must ask: Would it be coherent to save those who were never lost? The answer may not lie in endless doctrinal debates but in returning to the gospel itself as a real, living, and available offer to all who hear and respond. For, after all, the gospel is not fiction; it is the most authentic invitation ever extended to humanity.
Thinkers of Christianity
Augustine of Hippo and Thomas Aquinas, two of the most influential theologians in Christian history, illustrate how Christian theology has often dialogued with philosophical systems predating Christianity to structure faith. Augustine, shaped by Manichaeism and Plotinus’s Neoplatonism, and Aquinas, deeply influenced by Aristotelianism, reveal that even the most meticulous theology is often a synthesis of Christian revelation and the philosophies of its time.
With the advent of the Protestant Reformation, a return to Scripture was proclaimed under the principles of sola scriptura (Scripture alone) and sola fide (faith alone). However, when examining the foundations of Reformed theology, it becomes evident that it, too, was not immune to earlier cultural and philosophical influences. Notably, the concept of election and predestination, central to Reformed theology, echoes fatalistic ideas that permeate ancient Greek culture and other philosophical traditions.
The Influence of Fatalism
Fatalism, as a philosophical view, posits that all events are predetermined by an inexorable fate, unalterable by human will. This idea appears in Greek myths, such as those of the Moirai—the three goddesses who controlled the thread of life—and in Stoicism, which emphasized acceptance of a predetermined fate. This vision of an inevitable and fixed future finds a parallel in some interpretations of the Reformed doctrine of predestination, which holds that the eternal destiny of each individual—whether salvation or condemnation—was decreed by God before the world’s creation.
Although Reformed theology maintains that this divine decree is rooted in God’s sovereignty and not in a blind or impersonal force like the Greek “fate,” the echo of fatalism is hard to ignore. After all, if human destiny has been fixed since eternity, the question arises: What is the purpose of proclaiming the good news, which calls people to submit to God through Christ, if their destinies were determined before they even came into existence?
Greek Culture in the Formation of Christian Theology
Just as Neoplatonism influenced Augustine in shaping his vision of God as the Supreme Good, and Aristotelianism provided Thomas Aquinas with logical tools to articulate his systematic theology, Greek philosophy, with its emphasis on destiny, also left its mark on Reformed theology. The biblical doctrine of predestination ultimately acquired nuances that reflect a dialogue—conscious or not—with Greek thought.
This influence is understandable, given that the Reformers, like their predecessors, lived in a culture shaped by centuries of classical philosophy. Even though their intention was to return to the purity of Scripture, the cultural and philosophical lens through which the Bible was read and interpreted was unavoidable.
Critical Reflection
The question that arises, then, is: to what extent do theological doctrines, including predestination, reflect the Scriptures in their purity, and to what extent do they carry traces of philosophical systems foreign to the gospel? Does biblical Christianity, in its essence, present a dynamic tension between God’s sovereignty and human responsibility? The narrative of Eden suggests that it does.
The Greek philosophical heritage, with its ideas of immutable destiny, may have provided a language and intellectual framework that influenced theological thought throughout history. However, the great challenge of Christianity is to transcend these influences and affirm the uniqueness of God, who is sovereign (omnipotent) yet oppresses no one; who has an eternal purpose but, in implementing it, submits Himself to His own word; and who knows all things (omniscient and omnipresent) yet does not override the will of His creatures.
It is in understanding how God is simultaneously just and the justifier that the gospel reveals God’s true wisdom, surpassing the simplistic solutions offered by fatalism, which fail to grasp the depth of faith, hope, and love present in the divine plan.
The Doctrine of Christ Excludes Fatalism
Christ’s message in one of His most profound and symbolic parables, presented at the conclusion of the Sermon on the Mount, reveals a central truth of the gospel: the choice between two gates and two paths. A careful analysis of this parable and the broader context of Scripture reveals a doctrine that completely rejects the idea of fatalism and exalts God’s faithfulness and love, manifesting as a genuine invitation to salvation.
The Gates and the Paths
The narrow gate, as revealed in Scripture, is Christ. He declares: “I am the gate; whoever enters through me will be saved” (John 10:9). Entering this gate means being born again, becoming a new creation in God (2 Corinthians 5:17). Conversely, the wide gate symbolizes Adam, the first man, through whom all humanity enters the world in a natural condition, reflecting the earthly and fallen nature (1 Corinthians 15:47-49).
All men, at birth, enter the world through Adam, passing through the wide gate and being placed on the broad path. This path is not the result of human choice but a universal condition: “For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23). However, Christ provides a solution: “I am the way” (John 14:6; Matthew 7:14). He Himself consecrated this new and living way through His flesh (Hebrews 10:20); therefore, only He can lead mankind to life.
The Path Determines the Destination
The parable does not irrevocably bind the individual to a destiny but to the path they walk. The wide gate leads to the broad path, whose destination is destruction (Matthew 7:13). Conversely, the narrow gate leads to the narrow path, whose destination is eternal life (Matthew 7:14). This distinction is crucial: the gospel does not present destiny as something intrinsic to man but as something determined by the path he follows.
This distinction directly refutes fatalism, which presupposes that each individual already has a fixed destiny before even existing. If destiny were irrevocably tied to man, the parable would depict individuals as bound to an inevitable future. However, the very existence of two paths and two gates indicates the possibility for man to change paths, being born again under God’s invitation to salvation in Christ.
Christ, the Path That Leads to Life
The message of the gospel is clear: Christ is the narrow path that leads man to God (John 14:6). It is important to note that man, by himself, does not reach God. It is the narrow path, revealed by God, that leads man to salvation. This truth underscores divine grace: the invitation to enter through the narrow gate is available to all who hear the gospel’s voice and decide to leave the broad path to follow Christ.
The broad path, in turn, has an inevitable destination: destruction. This destruction is not the arbitrary condemnation of individuals before their birth but the natural result of remaining on the path that leads to death. However, the good news of the gospel is that even while on the broad path, men have the opportunity to enter through the narrow gate and follow the narrow path that leads to life.
The Exclusion of Fatalism
If predestination were shaped by fatalism, the gospel would not be an invitation but an inert, powerless doctrine. However, the parable shows that destiny is not tied to the individual before birth but to the path they walk after being born. Therefore, Christ excludes fatalism by presenting a gospel of love and grace, in which man can abandon the broad path and enter through the narrow gate to walk the path of life.
Thus, the gospel reveals God’s love for humanity and manifests His grace, offering salvation in Christ. All men born into the world did not choose to be on the broad path leading to destruction, as that choice was made by Adam. But God presents an opportunity for men to submit to Him by obeying the call to enter through the narrow gate.
Christ’s doctrine, therefore, does not align with Greco-Roman fatalism. Instead, it manifests as the good news of salvation—a living and universal call that transcends any notion of fixed and inexorable destiny. The gospel reveals a God who does not passively decree the future of His creatures but actively works in time, seeking to reconcile the world to Himself through Christ (2 Corinthians 5:19).
The greatness of this message is that it is not limited to a formal invitation. God, in His infinite grace, appeals to men through His ambassadors, imploring on Christ’s behalf: “Be reconciled to God” (2 Corinthians 5:20). This appeal is incompatible with any fatalistic concept, as it assumes that man, though fallen, can still respond to the divine grace contained in the gospel.
While Greco-Roman fatalism subjugated individuals to impersonal and inevitable forces, Christ’s doctrine exalts the freedom of divine grace, which offers a real choice: to leave the broad path leading to destruction and enter through the narrow gate—Christ Himself—to walk the path of life (2 Corinthians 3:17). Thus, the gospel is not a sentence of conformity to fate but an invitation to transformation and reconciliation with God.
This message demonstrates that the God of Christ is not a distant architect passively observing the unfolding of His decrees. He is a loving Father who desires all men to be saved and come to the knowledge of the truth (1 Timothy 2:4). He acts, calls, pleads, and extends His hands to guide those who hear Him to a glorious destiny: eternal life in Christ Jesus.
