For 40 years, the question of predestination has followed me. Here’s why the answer is found not in doctrine, but in Jesus.

The Echo of a Childhood Debate

The place was the lounge at my family home, in the formal lounge away from the listening ears of those inclined to roll their eyes up when Paul and I started our debate. The subject was the dogmatic tower of predestination versus free-will. The two of us both believed we were holding the ground as theological knights for good doctrine, and the nature of God.

One of us would take the first swing of our sharpened theological views, striking as hard as we could against the shield of the other. Each blow was potentially that final, concreted, reasoned word of God that would convert the other into line.

The retort would be brought down upon the other, the tension and frustration building. Eventually it was no longer a blow for blow battle, it would become a theological bloodied battle ground where at any time a fatal, no reversible comment might be made, and the friendship would be irretrievably damaged.

The day’s battle would end, both beaten and exhausted. Paul would make his way home and I would sit before books and bible listing new strategies for the next battle. My ‘sword’ would be sharpened and the tactics messaged. Those found wanting would be strengthened, and those rhetorical blows that cut into the flesh of my uncertainties would be bound up by the bandages of reason and dogma.

The evening would come, and the landline (the only phones we had in the day) would ring, Paul would be on the other end wanting to straighten a thought I had. But I, well, my preparation had set my new battle cry. Our phone was in our lounge but the extension cord allowed me to take it into our kitchen and close the door.

Mum and Dad knew what it meant. The phone would be tied up for hours if we were given the time to mix up the new understandings we had gained in those few previous hours.

Dad would roll his eyes, nearly to the back of his head. Mum would say the usual “Don’t tie up the phone for too long…”

Such parental expectation soon feel aside as once more swords clashed, blows taken, voices raised and ground gained was lost as soon as the next ‘truth’ made its way onto the fray.

This was my introduction to predestination.

For over 40 years it is still a subject that comes forefront to my mind when I hear a comment, or see theologians seek to enact their own battle grounds.

Over the years I have lost the willingness to battle such fickle and loyalistic based theological views. Even my own original perspective has become somewhat wanting. I guess time has taught me that two positions can be just as wrong as they can be right — at least when filtered through the correct lens and biblical integrity.

This subject, you see, is not about either position at all. At the heart of this subject the real question is:

“What is the nature of God like?”

To me, the way you see the Divine will shape something of the person you seek to be. It is the image we hold of God that will define the way we see reality. Even the atheistic view of God, the absolute belief in the non-existence of God — will define how you see the universe, the world and who you are within it. So this subject deserves our attention not for the dogmatic position we hold, but rather in the pursuit of knowing who God is.

Addendum: The Humility of Knowing

Before I venture further down this path, I would like to place a little addendum here before I move to the next section: The most knowledge any one has is when they are young, or when they are most ignorant about the complexity of a subject. The moment they learn that they are not well-versed in the subject at all, then life becomes messy and the need for a better way of thinking needs to be pursued — but often is not. The 16-year-old Malcolm knew a hell of a lot, and that was “a lot of nothing,” if I am to be honest.

Setting the Horizon — A New Look at Romans 8:28–30

Let’s set a scripture to hang our thinking on:

Romans 8:28–30 (ESV)

And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose. For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn among many brothers. And those whom he predestined he also called, and those whom he called he also justified, and those whom he justified he also glorified.

The important word for our attention is this: Predestined: προώρισεν. This is a compound word made up from pro (before) horizo (horizon). The idea is that of setting up a boundary, the diameter of that which is fixed as belonging to some one. It is that idea of setting a standard, a citizenship or a property size in a legal context.

In the context of this verse it belongs to what is the Golden Chain, the way in which God moves in His sovereign activity. In my study preparing for this blog I framed it like this:

The “Golden Chain”: The verbs proegnō (foreknew) and proōrisen (predestined) are in the aorist tense. In this context, the aorist indicates a completed action in the past from the perspective of the writer, treating the entire process as a single, certain event.

Conformed (συμμόρφους): This is an adjective describing the “whom” (the people). It isn’t just a superficial resemblance, but a deep, structural identification with the “image of His Son.”

The Purpose Clause: The phrase εἰς τὸ εἶναι αὐτὸν (for the him to be) uses an articular infinitive to express the ultimate goal or result of the predestination: that Christ would not be an only child, but the head of a vast family of “brothers” (and sisters).

Keep this under your belt at the moment as it will come up again soon.

In these great battles of youth I understood predestination as that doctrine particularly influenced by Calvin:

Predestination in Calvinism is the eternal, sovereign decree of God, determined before the foundation of the world, by which He ordains whatever comes to pass, including the specific election of some individuals (the elect) to salvation and the passing over of others (reprobation) to damnation. This choice is based solely on God’s grace and purpose, not on any foreseen merit, faith, or good works in humans.

What did this mean to me? That the very activity of Jesus Christ, that self-giving and “Love for the World” was a thin thing, one lacking a genuine concern for His own creation. Today this whole idea offends me deeply. Why? Simply this, I cannot reconcile the thin, the impersonal version of God that often accompanies the term. It simply does not sit with the Jesus Christ I know from the scriptures, and it creates a God who is more calculative and legislative than Fatherly and Self-Giving.

Let me restate where I stand on this. Over time, that discomfort I had when young has not gone away or faded. If anything, it has sharpened.

This predestination has taken this “Golden Chain” and created it into a closed system, a mere divine mechanism in which all outcomes are fixed by willfulness alone. This thins God out too much for my comfort.

But what if we read this passage not through the lens of divine determinism, but through the lens of the One who embodies the divine nature? What if the “Golden Chain” is not about election, but about emulation — about being drawn, step by step, into the very likeness of Christ?

Subverting Fate — Paul’s First-Century Reorientation

There is also something subtle going on here that stood out to me recently as I reflected on this. The first-century gentile Christians did not hear the language of “predestination” the same way we do today. Paul was not merely borrowing vocabulary; he was actively dissolving the religious and cultural understandings that held people captive.

In Paul’s world, language about what is “determined beforehand” lived in the shadow of ideas like fate — impersonal, inescapable, and often indifferent forces that dictated human destiny, sometimes tied to astrology or the capricious whims of the gods. So when Paul uses this kind of language, he is subverting it. He is taking what could sound like an indifferent, cold fate and placing it entirely within the person of Jesus Christ.

This changes everything. If the fates, with their cold handedness and lack of any real concern for human well-being, were not the horizon setters, but Jesus Christ was, then fate had nothing to do with it. Instead, grace and incarnation are front and center. God’s sovereign will is not to be aligned with the ‘fates’ of Greek culture; it is to be understood through the life, death, and resurrection of His Son. For the gentile Christians, this meant they had to think differently about their destiny and their God. Their captivity to an impersonal destiny was being replaced by the purposeful, loving call into the image of Christ.

What I had come to understand as predestination in those early years — shaped more by the way people spoke about it than by any careful theological tradition — began to feel uncomfortably close to the ancient idea of the fates. It presented itself as something fixed and impersonal, where outcomes were determined in advance and the individual stood as the recipient of a decision already made, rather than a participant in a living, relational call.

In that form, it felt thin. Less like a Father drawing His creation, and more like a mechanism unfolding its conclusions. Whether that perception was a fair representation of the doctrine itself is something I have since learned to question, but it was nonetheless the version that shaped my early wrestling.

And it is that version which troubled me deeply. Because when I hold it up against the person of Jesus Christ — the one who moves toward humanity, who gives of Himself, who calls rather than compels — it feels misaligned. Not necessarily false in its intent, but insufficient in its ability to carry the full weight of the God revealed in Christ.

Refocusing — The Predestined Image of Christ

Over time, there are two things which I accept are most certainly predestined in a sovereign manner, moving away from a Calvinist calculative decree:

1. Before the foundations of the earth, Jesus Christ had been elected to bring about the grace and goodness to creation, based upon the foreknowledge of God and His love for creation.
2. All who call upon the name of the Lord “WILL” be saved, and in their moving towards God they can know God is faithful to Himself, so what He promises He sets as the horizon of what will be.

The outworking of these two sovereignly set purposes of God is the producing of a “likeness” Paul speaks of in our verse. So, what is predestined? Paul answers clearly: “to be conformed to the image of His Son.”

The focus is not first on individuals, but on the outcome — the form — the goal. This is where the Greek becomes decisive:

• συμμόρφους (symmorphous) — sharing the same inner form
• εἰκόνος (eikonos) — the image, the true representation

What is “set beforehand” is this: That humanity will find its true shape in the Son. So, the Logos (the Word made flesh in Jesus Christ) and the Grace that is true to His nature, brings about an event, which is a change of form in that we are “conformed to the image of His Son.”

This vision of God means that He seeks to put ‘skin in the game,’ and at a high cost to Himself. If it were merely the act of a sovereign purpose by an omnipotent and edict centered divinity, then sacrifice is not required. The fates merely dish out the cards and it is so. But in Jesus Christ, a call is made to all who would listen, and to those who respond favourably to this ‘skin in the game’ that would sacrifice and cleanse everyone who calls upon Him (omnibenevolence.)

The locality of this understanding is not that we are elected for salvation, but that Jesus Christ is the center, ontology and the Telos of the whole thing.

Summary of Romans 10:8–17

This passage from Romans underscores that salvation is intimately linked to hearing and confessing the good news about Jesus Christ. It begins by emphasizing the accessibility of God’s word: it’s “near you, in your mouth and in your heart.” This is the “word of faith” that must be proclaimed.

Paul argues that genuine faith involves both inward belief (“believing in your heart that God raised him from the dead”) and outward confession (“confessing with your mouth that Jesus is Lord”). This faith is available to all, Jew and Greek alike, because the same Lord is Lord of all who call on Him.

However, this raises a crucial question: how can people call on someone they haven’t believed in? And how can they believe in someone they haven’t heard of? This leads to a chain reaction: hearing requires preaching, and preaching requires being sent. Paul highlights the beauty of those who bring this good news.

Yet, Paul acknowledges that not everyone will respond positively to the message. Quoting Isaiah, he notes that some will not believe what they have heard. Nevertheless, the fundamental principle remains: “faith comes from hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ.”

What does this mean?

The chain is unbreakable in Christ, but participation in that chain remains relational rather than automatic. It is unbreakable:

• foreknew
• predestined
• called
• justified
• glorified

But the source of certainty lies here:

Not in the control of individuals, but in the knowledge that the form has already been secured in Christ.

The outcome will not fail — because Christ has already embodied it. What God has set before us is not our own struggling to become, but the invitation to participate, and no coercion or removal of personal agency occurs.

In His sovereign will, nurtured by grace and a call to relationship, we see Divinity actively pre-configuring. God has not pre-configured us as objects, but has pre-configured humanity in Christ — and invites us to share in that life.

If predestination simply used humanity as an end to God’s sovereign will, such a God would not be loving, but would be tending towards a kind of usury, exploiting creation for His own pleasure. The God of Grace, one with a High Christology as the focus of history and salvific purpose, sets humanity in a place of responsibility and agency, making us respondents and rejectors. We remain ends in and of ourselves, but in faith, our potential is completed, not obliterated.

Why does this matter to me so much?

1. Remember what I said earlier about how you understand this will define your view of God and your understanding of reality? This is my understanding:
2. We are not the center of the universe, therefore we can rest back into Him. It is about Him and His position in the universe, and grace allows us to set peace within as we walk realistically and humbly.
3. No one is inherently elite, other than the One who can truly handle such a position: Christ. Because Christ is the “all in all,” and His nature is saturated with love and grace, we can see each other as equally valued. The ‘skin in the game’ is for the whole of creation, not a mere selection.
4. It is not about going to heaven. Salvation is about position — relationship and communion. That is far more enriching and meaningful.
5. We have a role as co-participants with Christ in that he chooses to add his Logos to our Rhema. Our words matter, even though imperfect, because they direct to the purposefulness of God — the good grace found in Jesus Christ.
6. God doesn’t do performative christianity. From beinging to end it is vulnerable humanity, God’s ‘skin in the game’ and the formation of something that completes us. It is not about ceasing to be, but becoming all we can be.

I guess for me it comes back to this place of humility. I can get over myself, let people come to the Lord on His terms, know that I have nothing to prove to any christian about my place in faith and the joy of just enjoying being a Christian as i am, knowing He has it all in Himself complete. It is not a position of sitting down and just letting it happen, but rather standing up and deliberately moving towards Him. Why? Because that is the design of what it means to become.