Beyond the Salvation Wars Review Part 2
Right on Regeneration, Wrong on Predestination
Beyond Salvation Wars Part 2 Review – Election, Regeneration, and The Ordo Salutis
I continue my review of Beyond the Salvation Wars by Matthew Bates. In chapter 6, Bates argues that election is always corporate and never pertains to individuals, that we can find no clear examples of individual election in Second Temple Judaism, and that regeneration cannot be said to precede faith. Bates makes a strong case for why regeneration cannot be said to precede faith; the arguments marshalled simply don’t work or misconstrue what regeneration is. As mentioned in the last post, however, there are Reformed theologians (like John Calvin himself!) who would agree, so this doesn’t work as a critique of Calvinist theology as such (though it does as a critique of Neo-Calvinist Gospel-Coalition tellings and of some Calvinist divines). I won’t cover Chapter 7 here, since I largely agree with Bates: it is possible to lose salvation. I think his case is forceful, persuasive, and needs to be reckoned with by those who defend the notion that the truly justified never apostasize.
As a Thomistic-Augustinian on election, however, I take issue with his claim here. I won’t dive into the Second Temple literature, as that would be a post of its own (and perhaps will be when I have more time). I will treat his exegeses here. Bates argues that election is exclusively corporate and to vocation rather than salvation. To understand corporate election, think of a company like Target; to say Target is predestined to receive funding from the government does not guarantee that any individual will receive funding, but that they only receive the benefits of government funding insofar as they are part of Target. So while “Target”, as a corporate body, is the subject of “predestination”, no individual is. This is, more or less, how the church is thought of in Bates’s argument. The church is predestined to receive the benefits of carrying forth the promise into the world, not any individual as such.[1] When God does elect individuals, this is to vocation rather than salvation. God elected Jacob and Esau not to respective eternal destinies, but to different kinds of services within his overall historical purposes—as he did so with Pharoah.[2]
Treating this claim requires attending to Romans 9-11. As I’ve been planning on doing this on this blog for some time, now is as good a time as ever! First, let us agree that, strictly speaking, election is not election unto “going to heaven.” So to understand how Romans 9-11 is relevant to the predestination debate, if at all, we can’t impose that category on it. Second, let’s also agree that election has corporate elements to it. This is an important facet of election that can get lost. God the Father sought a people to unite to the Son, and hence election is in the Son and for the Son.
That said, Bates’s argument (following Brian Abasciano and Chad Thornhill and others) seems to assume that if a group is the object of election, this means election is corporate in the sense above. To explain what I mean, I’ll define two sorts of groups: a specified group, and a non-specified group. The latter is akin to a company like Target. A non-specified group may be the beneficiary of a will—say (for some strange reason) if a person were to donate their possessions to Target upon their death. It is non-specified because “Target” as a group does not depend on a collection of a specific set of people; the group is fluid. A specified group is something more like a family. A family of five is a group, but a group constituted by its specified relationality. It is something like an organic whole.[3] A major chord, for instance, is not a group constituted by just any three notes. Nor, however, is the chord logically posterior to the notes either. Rather, the three notes that constitute a major chord are that major chord in their specific relations. So, contra someone like Abasciano, in saying that election is both corporate and individual, one need not stress a priority on either element if election of a group is more akin to election of an organic whole, like a family.
As it happens, election is election unto a family: the family of Abraham. And here is where we begin our treatment of Romans 9. In verses 1-5, Paul famously laments the situation of many of his Israelite brethren. He grieves that they have missed the Messiah, and even says “I could wish that I myself were cut off for their sake”! In verse 6, Paul sets the stage to answer the problem this raises: if so many of the Jewish people missed their Messiah, have the promises of God—which were for Israel—failed? Here is Paul’s shocking answer:
οὐ γὰρ πάντες οἱ ἐξ Ἰσραὴλ οὗτοι ⸀Ἰσραήλ·* 7 οὐδʼ ὅτι εἰσὶν σπέρμα Ἀβραὰμ πάντες τέκνα, ἀλλʼ·* ἐν Ἰσαὰκ κληθήσεταί σοι σπέρμα*. 8 τοῦτʼ ἔστιν, ⸆ οὐ τὰ τέκνα τῆς σαρκὸς ταῦτα τέκνα τοῦ θεοῦ ἀλλὰ τὰ τέκνα τῆς ἐπαγγελίας λογίζεται εἰς σπέρμα[4]
“For not all of these ones from Israel are Israel, neither is the seed of Abraham all children, but “in Isaac your seed will be called.” That is, it is not the children of the flesh who are the children of God but the children of the promised who are reckoned as seed.” (Rom. 9:6-8, my translation)
This is Paul’s thesis statement—his answer to the problem “well, if so many Israelites have not inherited the promise to Israel, hasn’t God’s promise failed”? His answer here, which he goes on to develop, is that the promise was not to the seed of Abraham by flesh, but to the true Israel—the Israel to which some of Israel (“these ones from Israel”) do not belong. The issue, then, is over who is actually the “children of God” to whom the promise was given? The phrase “children of God” is unequivocally soteriology per Galatians 3 and 4; the children of God are the rightful heirs of the promise given to Abraham. Hence, Paul identifies a specified group here, because the problem is that a specified group hasn’t received the promise that was thought to be there’s; Paul’s burden is to show that, in fact, the Israel of the flesh only were never the specified group to whom the promise was given.
To argue this, Paul brings up two case studies: Isaac and Ishmael, and Jacob and Esau. Both Isaac and Ishmael had the same father (Abraham), and so weren’t distinguished by any biological criteria. Paul references Jacob and Esau because they both had the same father and mother (one could always argue that Ishmael wasn’t truly legitimate) to show that the principle holds: God’s sovereign electing decision, and not fleshly birth, makes one an heir of the promise.
Now, of course, Bates and others are aware of these sorts of argument. They point out that the text of Genesis never says Ishmael or Esau were damned, and of course the quote “Jacob I loved but Esau I hated” refers to Malachi, where “Jacob” and “Esau” are peoples who descend from them. Further, the mention of Pharoah in the narrative itself has nothing to do with salvation, but rather to God’s purposes in the context of the narrative. But there are several problems with this response. First, while it’s true that the Malachi text references corporate peoples, Paul appropriates the text because the fate of these peoples are the outworking of God’s selecting and distinguishing decisions among Jacob and Esau themselves. Second, I do not believe the distinction between “election to vocation” and “election to salvation” quite works in this context. It needs to be remembered that salvation just is the restoration of our human vocation: to image God in the world. To be part of the Abrahamic family is to receive the Abrahamic inheritance, in which the Spirit renews us in our proper vocation as human beings. Hence, it is true that strictly speaking, God elects Jacob to be the one through whom the Abrahamic promise goes forth into the world and not Esau—the immediate sense of “election” here is the designation of who carries forth the promise. But here’s the rub: to carry forth the promise—to be charged with the task of bringing the Abrahamic blessing to the world as part of the Abrahamic family—is just what it means to be saved, for salvation just is the restoration of our vocation to image God (which now happens in the Abrahamic family, through the promised Messiah).
But does that mean that Ishmael was damned? Or that Esau was damned? We’re not told for sure. However, we do know in Esau’s case from Hebrews 12, he was unable to repent. Hence, even though he reconciles with Jacob, that does not mean he comes into the inheritance. But in any case, the point of bringing these historical examples up was to identify God’s activity by which he constitutes the Abrahamic family: he summons one into the family not because of any positive quality in us which would induce him to, but solely because of his call. Minimally—whether Ishmael and Esau were finally lost or not—Paul hones in on the historical progression of the promise given to Abraham, and argues it is passed on to whomever God chooses. When Paul cites “I will have mercy on whomever I have mercy and harden whomever I will harden” and recalls Pharaoh, this is to show an instance of the same principle at work in constituting the Abrahamic family. It’s true that the narrative in Exodus is not about Pharoah’s salvation, but God designating him for a purpose. But Paul extrapolates from this principle—that God disposes individuals for his purposes of mercy or wrath as he wills—to how the Abrahamic family is constituted. That is, Paul notes a pattern of God’s action—his action of sovereignly disposing individuals as he wills—to make application to the question “who is the true Israel, and who are the true children of the promise?” Referencing Pharoah here to answer that question wouldn’t really make sense if election were merely in reference to a non-specified corporate group.
If election is unto inheritance of the promise, then Paul’s discussion of faith makes much sense in Romans 10. Election into the Abrahamic family unfolds concretely in faith (which is that through which one historically comes to inherit the promise), and hence those elected go on to receive the promise (hence why they aren’t part of the Israel who isn’t Israel). And yet, Paul assures us in Romans 11, that does not mean God has rejected ethnic Israel since he himself is a Jew. That is, the fact that there are ethnically Jewish followers of the Messiah means that God’s electing purposes brought the Israel within Israel into the light of the Abrahamic inheritance. Thus, “the elect obtained it, but the rest were hardened”—Paul, echoing the language he used in Romans 9, now brings that here to draw the contrast between elect Jews who believe, and those who did not. In no uncertain terms, St. Paul teaches us that one is an heir of the Abrahamic promise only through God’s gracious distinguishing choice, made solely at God’s prerogative and not according to our will or working. And if one is an heir of that promise, then they are a member of Christ—and therefore unconditional election is true.
Now, much more could obviously be said here. I’ve only scratched the surface of the richness of Romans 9-11. But I have the rest of the book to review! Chapters 7 and 8 are, for the most part, very helpful indeed. Bates shows that consistently, through the New Testament, the real possibility that one might lose their salvation is taught (St. Paul even taught that he himself did not want to be disqualified!). It would be odd of St. Paul thought that those in Christ could never lose their salvation. And that’s an interesting thought that actually brings cohesion between Paul’s affirmation of unconditional election in Romans 9 and what he says about unbelieving Jews and Gentiles who apostatize. Anyone only ever inherits the promise by God’s gracious choice. But as St. Augustine taught us, the grace of justification and the grace of perseverance are not the same graces. God is sovereign over both, of course. If anyone is an heir of the Abrahamic promise, they are only an heir because God has designated them as such. But that doesn’t mean all of those God designates as heirs he has also designated for final salvation. And this is, in fact, the stance of most of those who have held the Augustinian line here (including Augustine, Prosper of Aquitaine, Peter Lombard, Thomas Aquinas, and many others): not all of those given faith are given final perseverance. So we need to heed the warnings.
This, then, is where a valuable contribution from Bates’s book emerges: we probably need to tinker a bit with the grammar of election. If it is possible to be elect, given the promise, but then lose the promise, it is possible to be elect and then to cease to be elect. Now, that’s a somewhat odd result. But the problem is that “election” has often been a systematic theological category first. The elect are chosen by God to be the heirs of the promise, and yet they stand fast through faith and persistent obedience. So here, I think, is an opportunity to refine the categories a bit. We may speak of the “eschatologically elect” to retain the “theological” way of speaking about the elect (e.g. those elected both to be an heir and to persevere as an heir—since if being an heir, at any time one is an heir, depends on the choice of God, it follows that if one is an heir at the end, they are so by God’s choice then too). The Abrahamically-elect are those elected to be part of the Abrahamic family. They are justified, regenerate, given the Spirit, etcetera. But not all the Abrahamically elect are eschatologically elect (whereas all of the latter are the former).
I won’t say much about Chapters 7 and 8 other than to say that they are persuasively argued. Bates argues for a much needed disruption in the ordo salutis in Chapter 8. In some circles, it is typically parsed out in terms of regeneration preceding faith, then faith leading to union with Christ of which justification and sanctification are distinct aspects, and culminates in glorification. I highly recommend these chapters for the progress they make in rethinking this scheme. The proper ordo salutis should center entirely on union with Christ, with regeneration, justification, sanctification, and glorification all being different facets of one’s union. He does an excellent job challenging many of the common schemes here.
Alright, I hope to have part 3 out and my video on this book by the weekend!
[1] Matthew W. Bates, Beyond the Salvation Wars: Why Both Protestants and Catholics Must Reimagine How We Are Saved (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Brazos Press, 2025), 148–51.
[2] Bates, 152–53.
[3] For an interesting application of this concept to the problem of evil, see Graham Floyd, “Organic Unities: A Response to the Problem of Evil,” TheoLogica 3, no. 2 (2019): 122–39, https://doi.org/10.14428/thl.v3i1.15243; Noah Lemos, “Organic Unities, Summation, and the Problem of Evil,” in Oxford Studies in Philosophy of Religion Volume 9, ed. Lara Buchak, Dean W. Zimmerman, and Philip Swenson (Oxford, United Kingdom: Oxford University Press, 2019), https://doi.org/10.1093/oso/9780198845492.003.0008.
[4] Kurt Aland et al., Novum Testamentum Graece, 28th Edition (Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, 2012), Ro 9:6–8.