Many of my brothers and sisters in Christ who are Calvinists have a wonderful thing they like to say:
"Let the plain text of the Scripture speak."
To that I have only one resounding response:
"Amen! And, again I say, amen!"
First, a Word of Appreciation
Let me stress that I have been blessed by the teaching and heart of many in the Reformed camp. Missionaries like Paul Washer whose undying love for the lost shines in his proclamation of the Gospel in missionary evangelism. Ministers like Voddie Baucham and the conviction with which he stands against sin by standing firm on Scripture. The love they have for the Lord is undeniable.
But here's where things get interesting. When any theological system forces us to keep a pocket dictionary of special meanings, where words don't mean what they normally mean, are we really letting Scripture speak for itself?
I've wrestled with this question for years. And the more I study, the more I see a pattern that troubles my heart.
Let me be clear... this is not a calling out of men. This is an in-house, family discussion of a systematic that I find, at the least, problematic.
When "All" Doesn't Mean All
Take a look at what happens to some of the simplest, most beautiful words in Scripture when they bump up against the doctrine of limited atonement:
"All" suddenly needs an asterisk. When Paul writes that God "desires all (πᾶς) people to be saved" (1 Tim 2:4), we're told it means "all kinds" or "all the elect" (John Owen, The Death of Death). When Peter declares God is "not willing that any should perish" (2 Pet 3:9), that "any" shrinks down to "any of the elect."
"World" gets downsized. That glorious declaration in John 3:16 becomes God so loved the "world of the elect" (John Piper, Five Points). The same happens with 1 John 2:2, where Christ is "the propitiation for our sins, and not for ours only but also for the sins of the whole world."
"Love" develops tiers. There's saving love for some, and something less, maybe pity, maybe common grace, for everyone else.
The One-Way Street
Curiously, the same interpreters who insist "all" and "world" are limited when grace is in view have no hesitation calling those words universal when sin is in view. Romans 3:23? "All" means every human without exception. Romans 5:12? "Death spread to all." 1 John 5:19? "The whole world lies in wickedness." Ephesians 2:3? We were all "by nature children of wrath."
Brothers and sisters, if "all" can truly mean everyone when describing humanity's ruin, why must it suddenly shrink when describing Christ's remedy? To be clear: I'm not suggesting that all will be saved. Scripture is devastatingly clear that many will reject God's grace and perish (Matt 7:13-14). But does the Bible really present God's offer and provision as narrower than sin's devastating reach? This selective shrinkage exposes an underlying presupposition: universal language is acceptable for condemnation but not for grace.
Yet Paul's gospel insists otherwise. In Romans 5:18, he draws the parallel: "Therefore, as one trespass led to condemnation for all men, so one act of righteousness leads to justification and life for all men." The apostle expects grace to match, and surpass, sin's breadth. Where sin abounded, grace abounded all the more (Rom 5:20). The tragedy isn't that grace is limited, but that so many refuse it.
Here's What Really Gets Me
Notice the re-definitions always move in the same narrowing direction because they are driven by the system's presupposition: divine love and saving grace must be particular, not universal. That's the smoking gun... the pattern reveals the presupposition.
It’s always shrinking. “All” is whittled down to “some,” “world” reduced to “the elect.” Every time, without exception. The interpretive knife only cuts one way, always trimming, always reducing, always making God's expressed desire smaller than the plain reading suggests.
Why does this matter? Because when we start with the assumption that God's saving love must be limited, we end up forcing Scripture to say something it doesn't naturally say. We're no longer letting the Bible shape our theology, we're making the Bible fit our theological grid. The presupposition is driving the interpretation, not the other way around.
We don’t need to tack on extra limits; the Spirit has already told us exactly why grace isn’t universally received. Consider the words of Jesus in John 3:19-20:
"And this is the judgment, that the Light has come into the world, and people loved the darkness rather than the Light; for their deeds were evil. For everyone who does evil hates the Light, and does not come to the Light, so that his deeds will not be exposed."
Jesus pins the blame on a loved darkness, not on an eternally withheld ransom. We love our darkness. We love self. The original sin of pride. The Son of God, in His radiance, brings all our sin out into the open and we can't stand it. We instinctively crawl back into the dark until the Holy Spirit convicts us of our sin.
Or listen to His warning in Matthew 7:13-14, when He says:
"Enter through the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the way is broad that leads to destruction, and there are many who enter through it. For the gate is narrow and the way is constricted that leads to life, and there are few who find it."
Notice the wording... "few who find it." The gate is narrow. Few enter, not because God barred the door, but because prideful hearts walk the broad road by choice. We need no extra, system-imposed limits on grace; Scripture’s own diagnosis is clear, and that is enough.
Think about it: If I told you "I bought pizza for everyone," you wouldn't start wondering if I meant "everyone with brown hair" or "everyone who likes pepperoni." You'd understand I meant... everyone. That's how language works. That's how communication works.
But when God says He desires "all" to be saved, suddenly we need a decoder ring. When Christ says He'll draw "all" people to Himself, we start adding footnotes. When John declares Christ is the propitiation for the sins of "the whole world," we shrink it down.
Brothers and sisters, this should trouble us deeply. When our theology requires us to consistently redefine simple words to protect our system, maybe it's the system that needs examining, not the words. Maybe we need to let "all" mean... all (John 12:32).
The Tension We All Feel
I get it. I really do. My Calvinist brothers and sisters are trying to protect precious truths about God's sovereignty and the security of the believer. Those are truths I hold dear, too. Let me be crystal clear: I believe in God's meticulous providence and that nothing catches Him by surprise. I believe that those who are truly His can never be plucked from His hand. These beautiful doctrines don't require us to shrink God's love down to fit our theological box.
Look at some of these passages that create tension:
When Jesus looked at the rich young ruler, Mark tells us He "loved him" (Mark 10:21). This wasn't generic benevolence. The Greek word is agapaō, the same word used for God's love in John 3:16. Yet this young man walked away from Christ. Are we to believe Jesus offered him a lesser, non-saving love?
When Christ declares, "And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself" (John 12:32), the natural reading is universal. The linguistic gymnastics required to make this mean "all the elect" would make any honest Greek scholar wince.
And here's where it gets really uncomfortable for the limited atonement position. When the author of Hebrews declares that Jesus "tasted death for everyone" (Heb 2:9), what do we do with that? When Paul in 2 Corinthians 5:14-15 twice insists that Christ "died for all," are we really supposed to shrink these sweeping statements down to "the elect only"?
Think about it: If the Holy Spirit knew that Christ's death was restricted to a pre-selected few who would infallibly be saved, why use "everyone" and "all" when "the elect" would have been so much clearer? The universal language doesn't just feel out of place in a strictly particular scheme—it feels deliberately misleading. This isn't Jesus speaking in parables and specifically saying everyone isn't supposed to understand. I believe the Spirit of Truth intends these passages to be clearly understood, not unnecessarily confusing.
Even Reformed scholars like John Owen acknowledged that "world" can mean every individual, they just add layers of intent/extent distinctions to maintain their system. But why do we need these complex distinctions when the simple reading makes perfect sense?
If our system makes the Spirit’s chosen words look misleading, the fault lies with the system, not the Scripture.
My Heart Grieves
You know what grieves me most? It's not the theological debate, it's what this does to evangelism. When I share the Gospel, I want to look someone in the eye and say without any mental footnotes:
"Friend, God loves you. Not just humanity in general. Not just your category of person. You. Christ died for you. The Spirit is drawing you right now. Today, if you hear His voice, don't harden your heart."
But if I believe in limited atonement, I can't say that with integrity. I'd have to add silent qualifiers: "Well, if you're elect... if you're chosen... if you're in the right group..."
A Different Way Forward
What if we simply let the words mean what they say?
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God genuinely loves the whole world with saving love
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Christ's death and resurrection is sufficient and intended for all
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The Spirit truly draws all people
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Human beings can resist this grace (Acts 7:51)
This doesn't diminish God's sovereignty. He remains completely sovereign while granting us the genuine freedom necessary for real love. After all, love that cannot be refused isn't love at all. It's something else entirely.
What I’m Not Saying
Let me be absolutely clear about what I’m not saying. I am emphatically not a universalist. I do not believe that all people will ultimately be saved. Hell is real, final, and terrible. Period. Scripture is devastatingly clear that many will reject God’s love and face eternal judgment (Matt 7:13-14; Rev 20:15). What I am saying is that God’s genuine offer of salvation extends to every human being, that Christ’s death is sufficient for all and intended for all, and that the Spirit truly draws all people. But this universal call can be, and tragically most often is, resisted. The fact that God sincerely desires all to be saved and has made full provision for them does not mean all will be saved. Human beings can and do reject God’s love. This is the heartbreak of the gospel: perfect love offered and refused. The wide gate still leads to destruction, and many still choose it (see Matt 7:13). My rejection of limited atonement is not a denial of hell or judgment; it’s an affirmation that those who perish do so despite God’s genuine desire and provision for their salvation, not because He withheld it from them.
The Bottom Line
When I read Scripture, I don't see a God playing cosmic hide-and-seek with secret meanings. I see a God whose heart breaks over Jerusalem because they "were not willing" (Matt 23:37). I see a Savior who weeps, genuinely weeps, over those who refuse Him.
The linguistic data simply won't sustain selective shrinking without prior doctrinal pressure. And maybe that's the point. Maybe we need to let our theology be shaped by the plain meaning of Scripture rather than forcing Scripture to fit our theological grid.
So yes, my dear Calvinist brothers and sisters, let's do exactly what you suggest: Let the plain text of Scripture speak.
And when it does, we might just find it's proclaiming a love bigger, wider, and more genuinely offered than our systems have allowed us to believe.
The Great Leveling Field
A thoughtful Calvinist friend once asked me, "But what about Romans 3:11-12? Doesn't Paul say 'no one seeks for God'? If we let Scripture speak plainly there, doesn't that mean literally no one can seek God?"
Absolutely, and I wouldn't shrink those words for anything. Paul's universal indictment stands: "None is righteous, no, not one; no one understands; no one seeks for God" (Rom 3:10-11). Left to ourselves, every human being is spiritually dead, hostile to God, unable to seek Him. I affirm this without qualification.
But here's what breaks my heart for those reading this who haven't yet trusted Christ: Paul's courtroom drama in Romans doesn't end with the verdict of guilty. The "no one" of our complete spiritual bankruptcy is met by the "everyone" of God's provision:
- The Charge: "All, both Jews and Greeks, are under sin" (3:9)
- The Provision: "The righteousness of God through faith in Jesus Christ for all who believe" (3:22)
- The Invitation: "Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved" (10:13)
Friend, if you're reading this and you've never trusted Christ, let me speak directly to you. You may feel the weight of that indictment... that you don't seek God, that you can't fix yourself, that you're spiritually helpless. That feeling isn't condemnation; it's the beginning of hope. Because the Gospel declares that, while you couldn't seek God, He sought you. He sent His Son, the Great Shepherd, to seek you out and call you to Him. While you were dead in sin, Christ died for you. While you were His enemy, He loved you with an everlasting love.
The same God who draws all people to Himself (John 12:32) is drawing you right now. The grace that appears to all people (Titus 2:11) is appearing to you in this moment. You can resist it and, tragically, many do. But you don't have to. The invitation is real, personal, and for you:
"Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest" (Matt 11:28).
Not "come to me, elect ones." Not "come to me, predetermined few." But "all who labor," and that includes you. Right now. Today. The door is open, the invitation genuine, the Savior waiting.
Will you come?
An Invitation to My Calvinist Friends
To my Reformed friends, I know you love Christ deeply. I know you treasure His sovereignty. So do I. If I've misunderstood your position or misrepresented your scholars, show me. Let's open our Bibles together, hold our systems loosely for a moment, and ask a simple question: What do these words most naturally mean?
Because at the end of the day, this isn't about winning theological debates. It's about the cross. It's about an infinite, sovereign God who chose to create beings capable of genuine response. It's about the God who needs nothing choosing to pursue rebels who could say no. It’s about a perfect Love who offered Himself even to those who might refuse Him.
That's the mystery. That's the glory. Isn't it possible that's exactly how Love wanted it to be?
