Most people today probably regard Calvinism as safely committed to those theological museums which one of our correspondents referred to last month. It can still be seen in the Confessions of the 16th and 17th centuries and in its residual influence on many aspects of our culture. But it no longer ex­ists as a living force.

It is certainly true that Calvinism has disap­peared — or been expelled — from many of its former homes and especially from the preaching of the Reformed churches. But the thing is not dead — not by a long way — and it has even had the audaci­ty to show stirrings of new life in the last two decades, although this is unfortunately less true of Scotland than of England, Wales and the United States. The literature reprinted by the Banner of Truth Trust from 1956 onwards introduced many people to the doctrines of grace and although other publishers have now followed the Banner's example the demand shows no sign of abating. Over the same period attendance at Reformed Ministers' con­ferences has increased dramatically, Reformed fellowships have sprung up in many parts of the world, existing Reformed seminaries have been strengthened and new ones erected, and the Chris­tian Unions at many centres of higher education have shown a marked preference for the depth and completeness of Calvinism compared with the shallow indefiniteness of traditional campus fun­damentalism. The situation is not yet such as to call for wild rejoicing and the new gains can very easily be lost if we become complacent or (which is more likely) become divided among ourselves. But after a century of almost unrelieved disappointment we may claim that we now see some small signs of en­couragement, albeit for the moment the cloud, like Elijah's, is no larger than a man's hand.

The Calvinistic Vision⤒🔗

It is dangerously easy, for both friend and foe, to see Calvinism in terms merely of the "five points" — total depravity, unconditional election, limited atonement, irresistible grace and the perseverance of the saints. These, however, only lay down the points of departure from classic Arminianism and Calvinism is something much wider than that. It is equally unsatisfactory to see reformed theology as the logical outworking of some master principle such as predestination. Calvin did not write his In­stitutes in any such way. Instead, using the Apostles' Creed as his framework, he expounded the major doctrines of Christianity not because they were deducible from some master principle, but because they had solid biblical foundations. There were many things in the exposition which had no ob­vious connection with predestination and many other things — such as the emphasis on responsibili­ty — which seemed to contradict it.

On the other hand, it is perfectly reasonable to stand back and ask: What is the single most distinctive feature of Calvinism? Many answers have been proposed to that question but none better than that of B.B. Warfield: "a profound apprehension of God in His majesty". Warfield adds a few words by way of explanation:

He who believes in God without reserve, and is determined that God shall be God to him in all his thinking, feeling, willing — in the en­tire compass of his life-activities, intellectual, moral, spiritual, throughout all his individual, social, religious relations — is, by the very necessity of the case, a Calvinist.

In the light of this there is no better description of the essential posture of Calvinism than the words of Revelation 4:2, "And immediately I was in the Spirit: and behold, a throne was set in heaven, and one sat on the throne." That is the reformed vision — a vision that is upward-looking, a vision of a throne and above all a vision of the One who sits on the throne. In Revelation 4:3 ff. He is described in terms redolent of pure majesty, culminating in the statement, "out of the throne proceeded lightnings and thunderings and voices." But this must be supplemented with the further description in Revelation 5:6, "And I beheld, and lo, in the midst of the throne stood a Lamb as if it had been slain." It is this vision of God in Christ that Calvinism apprehends as does no other form of Christian tradition; and from this vision it derives its whole outlook and inspiration.

One of the finest examples of this in Calvinistic literature is the following anecdote from the life of Jonathan Edwards, whose theology and religion are so often caricatured as repulsive and barbaric:

Once, as I rode out into the woods for my health, having alighted from my horse in a retired place to walk for divine contemplation and prayer, I had a view, that for me was extraordinary, of the glory of the Son of God, as Mediator between God and man, and His wonderful, great, full, pure and sweet grace and love, and meek and gentle condescension. This grace that appeared so calm and sweet, appeared also great above the heavens. The person of Christ appeared ineffably excellent, with an excellency great enough to swallow up all thought and concep­tion — which continued, as near as I can judge, about an hour; which kept me the greater part of the time in a flood of tears, and weeping aloud. I felt an ardency of soul to be, what I know not otherwise how to express, emptied and annihilated; to lie in the dust, and to be full of Christ alone; to love him with a holy and pure love; to trust in him; to live upon him; to serve and follow him; and to be perfect­ly sanctified and made pure, with a divine and heavenly purity. I have several other times had views very much of the same nature, and which have had the same effects.

When Calvinism goes on to speak of the sovereignty of God it means the sovereignty of this God, at once awesome and enthralling. The One who does according to His will, who answers to none and whose initiative lies behind every movement in the cosmos, is the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ and His government is anchored firmly in the excellences of His character. If the Lamb is in the midst of the throne then the grace which appeared in Christ and the love which was placarded on Calvary are the mightiest things in the universe, oc­cupying a position of invincible supremacy.

The Sovereignty of God←⤒🔗

The sovereignty of God is asserted in some form, of course, by all Christians. But Calvinism has pro­claimed it with peculiar urgency and thoroughness.

This is true on at least three levels.

First, foreordination: "God has foreordained whatsoever comes to pass." Everything that occurs lies within the eternal purpose of God. This point is made, of course, only with two qualifications: first, that this does not make God the author of sin and secondly, that it does not take away the liberty of morally responsible creatures. But important as these qualifications are, they do not deprive the doc­trine of its force. God's foreordination embraces everything within the physical universe and every action of men and women, including their free ac­tions and even their sinful actions. The intellectual difficulties raised by this last point are undoubtedly immense. But it is one which Scripture makes unam­biguously. Peter speaks of men's disobedience to the gospel as something to which they were appointed (1 Peter 2:8) and of the crucifixion of Christ as taking place by "the determinate counsel and foreknowl­edge of God" (Acts 2:23). But the doctrine is surely not notable only for the questions it raises. It is gloriously reassuring. It is the guarantee of the final and total (divine) rationality of the universe and its history, and the one possible foundation of belief in the final triumph of good over evil. Only if it is first of all true that God works all things accord­ing to the counsel of his own will (Ephesians 1:11) can it also be true that he works all things together for good (Romans 8:28). One anomalous element lying in­tractably beyond the confines of foreordination would destroy the credibility of all the promises of God.

Calvinism also asserts the sovereignty of God in providence: God "preserves and governs all his creatures and all their actions." He maintains His creation in being, replenishing its energies and en­suring the harmonious co-operation of all its parts. He numbers the hairs of our heads and watches over the fall of the sparrow. But He is not only the great supervisor. He is also the governor, and it is helpful to remember that the theological use of this word began with the Latin gubernator, which meant a helmsman. God is guiding or steering the universe. History has a course and, above all, a destination. Let us remember carefully who the governor is. Not God merely. Not God in the abstract. But God in Christ. This is represented symbolically in Revelation 5:5, where it is the Lamb who is found worthy "to open the book and unloose the seals thereof". The writer to the Hebrews states the same truth more pro­saically when he declares that Christ upholds all things by the word of his power (Hebrews 1:3). He car­ries the world on His shoulders and will deposit it at its appointed destination. That is the light in our darkness — that behind all the movements of history there lie the grace and tenderness of the Lamb. Incredible as it may sometimes seem from within our own tiny fragment of history, God has grasped the universe in His redemptive might and nothing can now pluck it from His hand.

Equally, God is sovereign in redemption: "All things are of God." He decided upon redemption. He accomplished it in Christ. Above all, for our present purpose, He applies it. He calls us, He unites us to Christ and He gives us faith. He effects the new birth. He opens our hearts. He keeps us. He perfects us. He sanctifies. He glorifies. None of this, of course, happens without our own willing. But then again it is God who works in us the willing (Philippians 2:13). We cannot boast of having thought of recon­ciliation. We cannot boast of having accomplished it. And we cannot even boast of having accepted it. At the one point where our role seems most decisive we can only say, It pleased God (Galatians 1:15). This is what underlies the profound sense of personal spiritual security which distinguishes Calvinistic piety. The man in Christ knows that he is caught up in God's eternal purpose of love. He knows that nothing can separate him from that love. And he knows that he would not be in Christ were it not that God is utterly determined to conform him to the image of His own Son.

Calvinism Today←⤒🔗

But what is the relevance of such a vision today? To answer that exhaustively we would need to look at the bearing of Calvinism on politics, art, ethics, epistemology, science and much else. But two points seem especially important.

First, Calvinism is relevant to the general mood which prevails in western society today. Mood is not an easy thing to assess and generalizations are perilous. But the following declaration from Albert Camus' novel The Fall is typical of a great deal of modern literature and probably expresses the outlook of many of our contemporaries:

How do I know I have no friends? It's very easy: I discovered it the day I thought of killing myself to play a trick on them, to punish them, in a way. But punish whom? Some would be suprised: no one would feel punished. I realized I had no friends. Besides, even if I had I shouldn't be any better off. If I'd been able to commit suicide and then see their reaction, why, then the game would be worth the candle. But the earth is dark, cher ami, the coffin thick, and the shroud opaque. The eyes of the soul — to be sure — if there is a soul and it has eyes. But you see, we're not sure, we can't be sure. Otherwise, there would be a solution; at least one could get oneself taken seriously.

The pessimism of that is almost physically painful. But it follows quite logically from the cosmology within which Casmus writes: "the only reasonable divinity — that is, chance." Such is the world of many of our contemporaries. It follows no course and heads for no destination. Above all, it is oppressively lonely: "I have no more friends; I have nothing but accomplices." Surely to such a frame of mind, the Calvinistic vision — if we can show its credibility — is pure gospel. To the world of Sartre and Camus and William Golding we can say, "Look up! There's a throne! Someone's in control!" And if they ask incredulously, "Who?" we reply. "God in Christ! The Lamb is in the midst of the throne!" Out in that great apparent void there's a Divinity that shapes our ends, an omnipotent Benevolence who thinks of us and cares for us; who indeed is so deeply committed to us, so deeply in love with this misshapen and perverse world, that He has given Himself for its salvation.

Think again of so much of our modern literature. Anything with a happy ending is suspect for that very reason. Such a conclusion to the human drama is judged shallow and superficial — a judgment with which many Christians would probably agree, feel­ing instinctively that tragic literature is much more Christian than comedy. But is it? The Book of Job has a happy ending (for which reason many critics dismiss the last chapter as in-authentic): "The Lord blessed the latter end of Job more than his begin­ning." And what was true of Job at this point will be true at last of every Christian. We cannot have the vision of Revelation 4:2 without also having the vision of the triumphant church in Revelation 7:15 ff., "Therefore are they before the throne of God: and God shall wipe away every tear from their eyes." Beyond that, however — and again flowing directly from the nature of the sovereign God — we have the even more glorious vision with which the Revelation closes. "And I saw a new heaven and a new earth." The sovereignty of God inevitably means a trium­phal eschatology and it is surely a priceless evangelistic asset to be able to tell our bewildered generation that we are moving not towards Camus' thick coffin and opaque shroud but towards the New Jerusalem.

Secondly, the Calvinistic vision is relevant to the evangelistic enterprise itself. Part of the relevance is obvious. Christian preaching falls on stony ground because man in his depravity is both averse to the gospel and impotent to respond to it. Com­placency, prejudice and self-centredness blind him to any attraction in Christ. It is his very nature to suppress and distort the truth, which means that in purely psychological terms the Christian mission is hopeless. No cogency of argument, no charm of per­sonality, no degree of manipulation or conditioning, can convert this man. But then into our feeling of the futility of it all comes the Calvinistic emphasis on God's initiative. He opens hearts. He draws men to Christ. He adds to the church. From the midst of the throne He makes Christian preaching — even that of "poor, lisping, stammering tongues" — the word of His power, so that in the darkest situations we can draw comfort from the assurance, "I have much people in this city."

Yet it is doubtful whether it is this aspect of God's sovereignty which should most concern us when we think of evangelism. The Lordship of Christ does not mean only that God helps and comforts Calvinists. It also means that He gives them orders which they neglect at their peril. The vision of the Lamb in the midst of the throne is not a different one from that of Sinai because here, too, there are "thundering and lightnings and voices." It is our God who is a consuming fire and He is no more tolerant of Calvinistic disobedience than of Arminian. Hence the need for Calvinism to go back to the throne not only to get comfort but to get instructions. We have to listen, awestruck but alert, to the words which pour forth — the words, first of all, of the whole Christian ethic; but the words also of the great mis­sionary imperative, Go! Go teach! Teach all the na­tions, every single creature. Only by the most Luciferian logic can we make the sovereignty of God an excuse for disobeying Him. Neither election nor foreordination, neither limited atonement nor total depravity, neither the invincibility of grace nor our own unworthiness, can be used to evade our respon­sibility to the clearest directive issued by the throne.

We have begun to see just the tiniest signs of en­couragement. We have made some little progress. But the ground recovered will be lost in a decade unless we move out of our studies and closets, our churches and chapels and committees, to bring the vision of the sovereign God into the marketplaces and even into the synagogues of Satan.