Chapter 3: An Honest Relationship
In Chapter One, we examined why God created mankind. As we followed the opening chapters of Genesis and the broader testimony of Scripture, we concluded that God created human beings because He desired an honest, loving relationship with those made in His image. But it must once again be emphasized that this was not motivated out of any deficiency or need on God’s part.
In Chapter Two, we examined how that relationship functions. Throughout Scripture, God is the One who takes the initiative. He makes the promises, He provides, and He accomplishes His purposes. The response He asks of mankind is faith—a trusting reliance upon Him and the promises He has made, a response He extends to all and calls each individual to embrace personally. It is through this faith that we first respond to God's call and begin our walk with Him, discovering Him to be faithful to the promises He has made.
It is now necessary to define what an “honest and loving relationship” is. Yet in the process of doing so, we must address the implications and complications of this kind of relationship. If this is truly the relationship God desires, then both scriptural directions and philosophical implications naturally follow.
As we examine this further, we will encounter a number of passages that many readers have found difficult to reconcile. In particular, we will consider passages that appear to express mankind's freedom to respond to God in faith as being in tension with His absolute sovereignty over His creation.
Because we believe Scripture to be God's authoritative Word, we do not assume that these passages truly conflict with one another. Rather, we will briefly consider the principles that should guide our reading whenever Scripture appears to point us in different directions before examining the passages themselves.
As we study these passages, it is important to establish the principles that will guide our study. Our first consideration must be to ask what question a passage is intended to answer and what claims it is actually making. Every passage must also be read within its immediate context and within the larger argument of the book in which it appears. When a biblical author, such as the Apostle Paul, draws upon earlier Scripture - for example, by quoting or alluding to passages from the Old Testament - we should return to those earlier passages, read them within their original context, and then consider how that biblical author is using them. We should also recognize the literary form through which God has chosen to communicate, whether narrative, poetry, prophecy, or instruction, because that makes a difference. Although not every one of these considerations will play a significant role in the passages we will examine in this chapter, they are all important principles of biblical interpretation that should guide our reading of Scripture as a whole.
With these initial rules established, let's return to the focus of this chapter, an honest relationship with God.
The Language of Relationship Throughout Scripture
The previous chapters established that God always takes the initiative in His relationship with mankind. He creates. He calls. He makes promises. He accomplishes the work that mankind cannot accomplish for himself. Mankind responds by faith. Yet as we continue reading Scripture, another pattern begins to emerge. The relationship God establishes with His people is not presented as a cold exercise of authority, but as a living relationship marked by communication, patience, instruction, correction, faithfulness, and genuine interaction.
This pattern appears almost immediately. Before sin entered the world, God interacted with Adam and Eve, giving them instruction concerning the garden and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. After they sinned, He did not abandon them. He sought them, questioned them, listened as they answered, confronted their sin, pronounced judgment, and yet also provided for them while giving prophecy that pointed toward the hope of redemption (Genesis 2–3). Cain likewise received both warning and instruction before murdering his brother. God did not simply pronounce judgment without first confronting Cain's anger and warning him about the sin that threatened to overtake him (Genesis 4:6–7).
As God's relationship with mankind continued to unfold, these same characteristics repeatedly appeared. God called Noah and entrusted him with the construction of the ark, and Noah responded by doing what God commanded (Genesis 6:13–22).
Job is introduced as a man who was "blameless and upright," who feared God and turned away from evil (Job 1:1). Yet his faithfulness was tested through the loss of the blessings he had received, raising the question of whether his devotion to God would remain when those blessings were taken away. Unable to understand the suffering he experienced, Job questioned, grieved, and sought answers while continuing to wrestle with his faith in God. Only near the end of the book does God answer him directly, correcting Job where his understanding had fallen short and reminding him of the limits of human knowledge. Yet God also affirmed the truth of what Job had understood about Him and distinguished Job's response from that of his friends (Job 38–42).
God appeared to Jacob at Bethel, remained with him through years of struggle and uncertainty, and later met him in the extraordinary encounter in which Jacob physically wrestled with God. Refusing to relinquish, Jacob eventually received the blessing he requested from Him. God then renamed him Israel, further establishing the covenant line that had begun with Abraham (Genesis 28:10–22; 32:22–30). He also remained present throughout Joseph's remarkable journey from slavery and imprisonment to leadership in Egypt, working through circumstances Joseph himself could not have anticipated and ultimately using them to preserve his family (Genesis 37–50). These accounts differ dramatically in their circumstances, yet each presents God personally engaging individuals within the unfolding purposes of their lives.
Among all of these Old Testament relationships, however, Abraham deserves particular attention. Genesis devotes an extensive portion of its narrative to Abraham's life because God established a covenant with him and made promises through him that would shape the remainder of biblical history. The significance of that covenant is reflected throughout Scripture, and the Apostle Paul repeatedly turns to Abraham in his letters when addressing God's promises, faith, righteousness, and those who ultimately share in the promises made to him.
In Chapter Two, we focused particularly on Paul's argument in Romans 4, where Abraham's faith becomes central to understanding how a person is declared righteous before God. Yet that makes the relationship recorded between Abraham and God all the more significant for our present discussion. The man Scripture repeatedly presents as an example of faith was not a man without uncertainty, misunderstanding, impatience, or failure. His faith was lived within an ongoing relationship in which he continued to learn what it meant to trust the God whose promises sometimes appeared impossible from a human perspective.
Consistent with His character, God approached Abraham first. He called him from his homeland, made promises concerning his descendants and the land He would give them, and eventually promised that through him all the nations of the earth would be blessed. Abraham responded by trusting God, and that faith was counted to him as righteousness. Yet Abraham's faith did not make him mechanically obedient or incapable of making decisions according to his own judgment. Just like any human being, he expressed concerns and misunderstandings that led to him making decisions outside the will of God. The most obvious example occurred when the promised heir had still not come and an elderly Abraham and Sarah reasoned that the heir must be derived from somewhere other than Sarah’s womb. Seeking a reasonable alternative, Sarah recommended that Abraham lie with her maidservant Hagar so that an heir might be attained through her, resulting in the birth of Ishmael. God’s provision seemed to be absent, so they took matters into their own hands, which led to many future complications. Yet God continued to engage Abraham, reaffirm His promises, correct his understanding, and patiently develop the relationship Abraham had entered by faith.
Continuing, Abraham also spoke openly with God. When God revealed what He intended to do concerning Sodom, Abraham pleaded for the righteous who might be living there, repeatedly asking whether God would spare the city for fifty righteous people, then forty-five, forty, thirty, twenty, and finally ten (Genesis 18:22–33). God allowed Abraham to question Him and responded to each request. Abraham remained God's servant and God remained unquestionably sovereign, yet their interaction was unmistakably personal. The Abraham presented in Scripture is neither a passive instrument nor a man whose faith eliminated his ability to question, fail, or act according to his own judgment. He is a man who trusts God and learns through an ongoing relationship that the God who made the promises can be trusted to fulfill them.
Drawing from these relational patterns, when God called Moses from the burning bush and commissioned him to return to Egypt, Moses repeatedly resisted. He questioned who he was to confront Pharaoh, worried that Israel would not believe him, expressed uncertainty about what he should tell them, and protested that he was not an eloquent speaker. God did not immediately silence these concerns. He answered Moses' questions, promised to be with him, revealed His name, provided signs by which His power would be demonstrated, and eventually provided Aaron to speak alongside him. Only after Moses continued resisting did God express frustration with him and the discussion reach its conclusion (Exodus 3–4). God clearly intended Moses to return to Egypt, yet the account still records an extended interaction in which Moses questioned, objected, expressed fear, received answers, and finally submitted to God's direction.
Here again, Moses did not become mechanically obedient afterward. Throughout his life he continued to demonstrate his own judgment, emotions, frustrations, and failures. At Meribah, he struck the rock rather than honoring God as he had been commanded, and his disobedience carried serious consequences (Numbers 20:7–12). Yet even within a life uniquely directed by God, Scripture continues to portray Moses as a genuine participant in his relationship with God.
Jonah provides an even more striking example. God commanded him to go to Nineveh and proclaim the message He had given him, but Jonah deliberately fled in the opposite direction. Nineveh belonged to Assyria, a nation that would become one of Israel's most dangerous enemies, and Jonah had no desire to see its people receive God's mercy. In fact, Jonah later admitted that this was precisely why he fled: he knew God to be "a gracious God and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love," and he feared that if Nineveh repented, God would spare them (Jonah 4:1–2).
However, Jonah's resistance did not prevent God from accomplishing what He had determined to do. God intervened, punished Jonah for his rebellion, redirected him, and ultimately brought him to Nineveh, where Jonah delivered the message he had been commanded to proclaim. Yet even after obeying, Jonah remained angry when God showed mercy to the city. Rather than treating Jonah as a passive instrument whose personal response was irrelevant, God continued to engage him, questioning his anger and correcting his understanding. God sovereignly ensured that His purpose for Nineveh was accomplished while Jonah remained a genuine participant who could resist, obey, become angry, and be corrected within his relationship with God.
This pattern extends throughout the Old Testament. Gideon questioned God's calling and repeatedly sought reassurance before going into battle (Judges 6). David trusted God deeply, yet also sinned grievously and experienced both God's correction and His forgiveness. The prophets repeatedly reveal God calling Israel back to Himself, warning the nation of the consequences of continued rebellion while pleading with His people to return. Again and again, Scripture portrays God working with imperfect people who trust Him, struggle with Him, misunderstand Him, disobey Him, repent, and continue in relationship with Him. And this is a characteristic we all share.
When we come to the New Testament, these relational characteristics remain recognizable in the ministry of Jesus. He calls ordinary men to follow Him, and they leave their nets, occupations, and former lives to do so. He teaches His disciples patiently, answers their questions, corrects their misunderstandings, rebukes their unbelief, and encourages them when they are afraid. Their decision to follow Him does not suddenly make them incapable of disagreement, confusion, failure, or even serious sin. Peter boldly confesses Jesus as the Christ and later rebukes Him when Jesus speaks of His coming death. He promises that he will never deny Him and then denies Him three times. Yet Jesus later restores Peter rather than abandoning him.
The same personal engagement extends beyond the disciples. Jesus receives Nicodemus and patiently responds to his questions about being born again (John 3:1–21). He speaks at length with the Samaritan woman at the well, allowing the conversation to unfold through her questions, objections, and growing understanding of who He is (John 4:1–42). He loves the rich young ruler and calls him to follow, yet the man walks away sorrowful because he is unwilling to surrender his possessions (Mark 10:17–22). Jesus encounters people who believe, people who doubt, people who misunderstand, people who follow, and people who turn away. His authority remains absolute throughout these encounters, yet the people themselves are consistently presented as meaningful participants in their response to Him.
This same relational pattern also appears in Scripture's direct appeals. Moses placed life and death before Israel and urged the nation to choose life (Deuteronomy 30:19–20). Joshua called the people to choose whom they would serve (Joshua 24:15). The prophets repeatedly pleaded with Israel to return to the Lord, and Jesus later lamented over Jerusalem, saying that He desired to gather its people, "and you were not willing" (Matthew 23:37). These passages do not merely describe God's authority; they address mankind as responsible participants whose response carries real significance.
I would like to make an observation. Scripture contains many examples of human beings interacting with one another in ways that mirror these same relational qualities. Through these interactions, Scripture helps define how God views interpersonal relationships and how individuals are meant to approach one another in honesty and mutual regard—relationships in which both parties are genuinely engaged and personally valued. Ruth's devotion to Naomi is powerful precisely because Ruth willingly binds herself to Naomi when she has been given every opportunity to leave. She chooses faithfulness at considerable personal cost (Ruth 1:6–18). Jonathan's relationship with David likewise displays voluntary love, loyalty, sacrifice, and covenant faithfulness even when remaining loyal to David places Jonathan at odds with his own father and threatens his future claim to the throne (1 Samuel 18:1–4; 20:1–42).
These human relationships are obviously not identical to mankind's relationship with God. God is Creator; we are His creation. He possesses an authority over mankind that no human being possesses over another. Moses and Jonah demonstrate that distinction particularly well. God's sovereignty over His creation gave Him the authority to specifically direct these men to serve specific purposes within history. And yet, despite His directional authority, He still acknowledged their concerns, reluctance, and rebellion.
Yet the relational characteristics themselves remain strikingly familiar. Communication, trust, patience, loyalty, correction, forgiveness, disappointment, sacrifice, faithfulness, and the ability to respond all appear in both. Scripture does not describe God's relationship with mankind using an entirely foreign category of relationship that bears no resemblance to the relationships we ourselves experience and understand. Instead, many of the same qualities Scripture reveals within human relationships repeatedly appear in God's dealings with mankind.
That leaves us with an important question. If these qualities help us recognize what makes a human relationship genuine, what do they tell us about the honest, loving relationship God desires with us?
To answer that question, we must now consider the philosophical implications of what Scripture has been showing us all along.
The Philosophical Implications
Having observed the consistent pattern Scripture presents, we are now in a position to consider its implications. Our understanding of Scripture should never be governed by human reasoning independently of what God has revealed. Yet this does not mean that reason should be abandoned. God has given mankind the ability to think, reason, and draw conclusions from what we observe and understand. When those abilities remain governed by Scripture, they become valuable tools for considering the deeper implications of what God has revealed. In this case, that means considering what we understand about the nature of relationships themselves and asking what those observations reveal about the specific relationship Scripture has been describing between God and mankind.
Throughout the previous section, we observed a remarkably consistent pattern. God initiates the relationship. He personally engages those He calls. He seeks love, faith, trust, devotion, and faithfulness. When the relationship is broken, He calls people to return. Scripture also records that people respond to Him in different ways. These observations are not isolated to a handful of passages but appear repeatedly from Genesis to the New Testament.
If this truly is the relationship God desires, then an important question naturally follows. What kind of relationship is Scripture actually describing?
It is certainly not the relationship between a craftsman and a tool. A tool performs only the function for which it is designed. It possesses neither understanding nor affection. Neither can it be compared to the relationship between a programmer and a computer. A computer may execute extraordinarily complex instructions, but every action ultimately follows the design imposed upon it. Whatever appearance of intelligence or personality it may display, it neither loves nor trusts the one who created it.
The relationships presented throughout Scripture are fundamentally different. God engages people personally, allowing them to respond, question, trust, doubt, obey, resist, fail, and return. These are not merely interactions between a sovereign Creator and the creatures under His authority. Scripture consistently presents them as relational realities in which the responses of those involved carry genuine significance.
Philosophically, this raises a very significant question. Can love possess genuine meaning if it cannot be withheld? Can trust exist where there is no possibility of distrust? Can faithfulness be praised where unfaithfulness is impossible? Can repentance have significance if turning away was never a real possibility? Throughout every area of human experience, we instinctively recognize that these qualities derive much of their meaning from the very fact that they are willingly given rather than mechanically produced.
The same principle appears throughout Scripture's own descriptions of relationship. We saw it in Ruth's freely given devotion to Naomi and in the loyalty and covenant friendship shared by David and Jonathan. Love is commended because it is devoted. Faith is praised because it trusts God even when His promises cannot yet be seen. Loyalty is honored because it remains steadfast through difficulty. Repentance is celebrated because one who has wandered genuinely returns, as with the prodigal son. Forgiveness restores a relationship that has truly been broken. Every one of these realities assumes a relationship in which the response itself possesses genuine significance.
One passage captures this principle with unusual clarity, and it comes from a part of Scripture we might not immediately expect. The Song of Solomon celebrates the love and desire shared between a man and a woman, yet the kind of relationship it describes carries particular significance within the larger biblical picture.
Throughout Scripture, God repeatedly uses the covenant relationship of marriage to illustrate His relationship with His people. In the Old Testament, Israel is described in marital terms in relation to God, while in the New Testament Paul draws upon the same imagery when describing Christ and the church. The relationships are not identical, but Scripture itself gives us reason to recognize meaningful parallels between them.
Within that wider biblical pattern, the Song of Solomon contains a refrain that becomes especially relevant to what we have been considering. Three times the book gives essentially the same exhortation:
“I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem... that you not stir up or awaken love until it pleases.” (Song of Solomon 2:7; 3:5; 8:4)
The immediate subject is human love, but the observation about love itself reaches directly into the philosophical question before us. Love cannot simply be manufactured on demand. It cannot be coerced into existence and still carry the value, the feeling, or the meaningfulness that makes it love. The repeated warning not to awaken love before it desires to be awakened recognizes something fundamental about its nature: genuine love must arise sincerely rather than under compulsion.
This is also an example of why careful consideration of Scripture sometimes reveals significance in places we might otherwise pass over. The Song of Solomon is not attempting to answer a theological debate concerning human freedom or divine sovereignty. Yet in describing the nature of love, it gives us an observation that bears directly upon the kind of relationship Scripture elsewhere tells us God desires with His people.
Romans 9 — God's Sovereignty and the Course of History
Thus far, Scripture has presented a deeply relational picture of God's interactions with mankind, one that appears consistent with the honest, loving relationship we have been describing. God reaches out first, revealing Himself and calling mankind into relationship with Him, while mankind is called to respond in faith—to recognize God for who He is, trust what He has revealed, and willingly return the love and faithfulness He has already shown toward us.
Yet there are passages that many understand to point toward a different conclusion—one in which God not only initiates the relationship, but ultimately determines who will respond to Him and who will not.
Perhaps no passage has contributed more to that understanding than Romans chapter 9. Here, Paul seems to complicate issues that originally seemed clear. Starting in verse 6, Paul states:
“But it is not as though the word of God has failed. For not all who are descended from Israel belong to Israel, and not all are children of Abraham because they are his offspring, but “Through Isaac shall your offspring be named.” This means that it is not the children of the flesh who are the children of God, but the children of the promise are counted as offspring. For this is what the promise said: “About this time next year I will return, and Sarah shall have a son.” And not only so, but also when Rebekah had conceived children by one man, our forefather Isaac, though they were not yet born and had done nothing either good or bad—in order that God’s purpose of election might continue, not because of works but because of him who calls— she was told, “The older will serve the younger.” As it is written, “Jacob I loved, but Esau I hated.”
What shall we say then? Is there injustice on God’s part? By no means! For he says to Moses, “I will have mercy on whom I have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I have compassion.” So then it depends not on human will or exertion, but on God, who has mercy. For the Scripture says to Pharaoh, “For this very purpose I have raised you up, that I might show my power in you, and that my name might be proclaimed in all the earth.” So then he has mercy on whomever he wills, and he hardens whomever he wills.
You will say to me then, “Why does he still find fault? For who can resist his will?” But who are you, O man, to answer back to God? Will what is molded say to its molder, “Why have you made me like this?” Has the potter no right over the clay, to make out of the same lump one vessel for honorable use and another for dishonorable use? What if God, desiring to show his wrath and to make known his power, has endured with much patience vessels of wrath prepared for destruction, in order to make known the riches of his glory for vessels of mercy, which he has prepared beforehand for glory—”
Read by itself, it is not difficult to understand why this passage has led many to conclude that God determines beforehand who will receive His mercy and who will not. Paul speaks of election before Jacob and Esau had done anything good or bad. He states that God's mercy does not depend upon human will or exertion. He describes God as having mercy upon whomever He wills and hardening whomever He wills. He then compares God to a potter possessing authority over the clay, including vessels prepared for honor and dishonor.
If these statements are describing God's determination of each individual's eternal salvation or condemnation, then the implications for everything we have discussed are significant. Mankind may still experience what appears to be a relationship with God, but the ultimate response of each individual would already have been determined by God.
We should not attempt to weaken Paul's language simply because it creates difficulty for the conclusions we have reached. If this is what Scripture teaches, then our conclusions must change.
But neither should we assume that our first impression of Paul's words necessarily captures their intended meaning. Like any passage of Scripture, Romans 9 can be misunderstood when its statements are read in isolation from the context in which they were written. This is where the real work of interpretation begins.
As we established at the beginning of this chapter, Scripture must be understood in light of Scripture. A passage must be read within the argument of the author who wrote it, and when that author draws upon earlier Scripture, those passages must also be considered within their original context. Yet as Christians, we also believe that the human authors of Scripture wrote under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. Although Scripture was written by different authors, in different periods of history, and under different circumstances, it ultimately reflects the mind and purposes of the same God. Our task, therefore, is not simply to ask what Paul's words in Romans 9 might appear to mean when read in isolation, but what Paul intended them to communicate within his own argument and how that understanding remains consistent with the larger testimony of Scripture.
So where should we begin? Perhaps with the statement Paul uses to introduce the argument itself:
"But it is not as though the word of God has failed." (Romans 9:6)
Why would Paul even raise the possibility that God's Word had failed?
To understand the question, we must remember that Paul's letter to the Romans is one continuous argument. The chapter and verse divisions familiar to us today were added much later to help readers locate and organize particular passages. Throughout the letter, Paul has been building his case almost like a lawyer, establishing mankind's problem with sin, righteousness through faith, and God's saving work through Jesus Christ.
By the beginning of Romans 9, however, Paul turns specifically to Israel, expressing profound anguish over his own people (Romans 9:1–5). God had chosen Israel, established His covenant and promises through Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, given Israel the Law, and ultimately brought the Messiah into the world through them. Yet many of the very people who had received these privileges, people Paul deeply cared about, had rejected Christ.
That creates an obvious question. Had something gone wrong? Had God's promises somehow failed? Paul's answer is that the Word of God had not failed. Understanding why Paul can make that statement is essential to understanding everything that follows.
Paul begins by addressing an assumption that could easily arise from Israel's physical descent from Abraham. If God's covenant promises were given through Abraham, did those promises necessarily belong to everyone who could trace his ancestry back to him?
Paul's answer is no. From the very beginning, physical descent alone had never defined the line through which God's promise would be fulfilled. Abraham had more than one son, yet God specifically declared, "Through Isaac shall your offspring be named." Isaac was significant not simply because he was Abraham's biological son, but because he was the son God had promised to Abraham and Sarah, whose birth was possible only because God provided what they could not provide for themselves.
(Genesis 17:15–19; 18:10–14; 21:1–3)
This distinction is important. Paul is not yet discussing the eternal salvation of Isaac or the eternal condemnation of Ishmael. His argument concerns the promise God had made and His authority to determine how that promise would be fulfilled. Ishmael remained Abraham's son and was himself blessed by God (Genesis 17:20), but the covenant promise would continue through Isaac.
This also connects directly with what we observed in Chapter Two. Abraham was declared righteous because he believed God and trusted the promises He had made. The fulfillment of those promises did not depend upon human ancestry or human effort. God made the promise, God determined how it would be fulfilled, and Abraham was called to believe Him.
Paul next turns to Jacob and Esau. Unlike Isaac and Ishmael, Jacob and Esau were born to the same father and mother. Yet before either had done anything good or bad, God declared that "the older will serve the younger," so that His purpose of election would stand apart from human works.
At first glance, this can sound like a declaration concerning the eternal destiny of two individuals. But here the principles of interpretation established earlier become particularly important. Paul is drawing upon two different Old Testament passages, and their original contexts help clarify what he is describing. The statement "the older will serve the younger" comes from Genesis 25:23. When Rebekah asks God about the children struggling within her, He answers, "Two nations are in your womb, and two peoples from within you shall be divided." Jacob and Esau certainly were individuals, but God's declaration concerned more than the personal lives of two brothers. They would become the fathers of Israel and Edom, and God was declaring beforehand how His covenant purposes would proceed through them.
Paul then writes, "Jacob I loved, but Esau I hated." This statement was not spoken before Jacob and Esau were born. Paul is quoting Malachi 1:2–3, written centuries later, where God is again speaking of Israel and Edom, the nations descended from them. Neither quotation, in its original context, explicitly declares that Jacob was predetermined for eternal salvation while Esau was predetermined for eternal condemnation. This does not diminish what Paul says about election. God unquestionably chose Jacob rather than Esau as the line through which His covenant purposes would continue, and that choice was God's to make. It was established before either brother had accomplished anything that could place God under obligation.
God's purposes were not dependent upon human works. Paul therefore anticipates the objection: "Is there injustice on God's part?" His answer is emphatic: "By no means!" He then quotes God's words to Moses: "I will have mercy on whom I have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I have compassion." Once again, the Old Testament context is significant. These words come from Exodus 33, following Israel's rebellion with the golden calf. The people had violated their covenant with God and possessed no claim upon His mercy. Yet Moses interceded for them, and God chose to continue with them. Mercy belonged to God because mercy, by its very nature, could never be something mankind was owed.
Paul then turns to Pharaoh, and his example makes God's authority over the course of history particularly clear:
"For this very purpose I have raised you up, that I might show my power in you, and that my name might be proclaimed in all the earth." (Romans 9:17)
The purpose Paul identifies is the same purpose given in the Exodus account. Pharaoh occupied a particular place within history through which God intended to display His power and make His name known. Pharaoh and Egypt were part of a prophecy God had given Abraham centuries earlier.
Pharaoh refused to release the people God intended to save. As the plagues mounted, Pharaoh finally relented, and yet God hardened his heart. God intended that Egypt face all 10 plagues, ultimately resulting in the Passover, which directly pointed to God’s future provision found through Jesus. God was sovereign over what would occur through Pharaoh.
The Exodus would happen. Specifically, the Passover would happen. Israel would be delivered. God's power would be displayed, and His name would be proclaimed. Pharaoh could not prevent God's purposes from being accomplished.
Yet Paul does not tell us here that Pharaoh was created for eternal condemnation. The example presented through him demonstrates God's authority to even use the decisions of men to complete the purposes He is determined to accomplish.
Nebuchadnezzar provides an interesting comparison. Like Pharaoh, he was a pagan ruler whom God used to accomplish a difficult purpose in Israel's history, bringing judgment upon God's people for their rebellion. Yet Nebuchadnezzar's story developed very differently, and results in what seems to be a more definitive conclusion. After conquering the nation of Israel, God humbled him and temporarily deprived him of his reason. However, Nebuchadnezzar eventually regained his sanity, leading him to acknowledge the God of Israel, praising and honoring "the King of heaven" (Daniel 4:34–37). Whatever conclusions we might draw about Nebuchadnezzar's eternal salvation, his story demonstrates that being sovereignly used by God for judgment does not, by itself, establish a person's ultimate relationship with God.
This leads naturally into Paul's image of the potter and the clay. The creation does not possess authority over its Creator. God is free to make "one vessel for honorable use and another for dishonorable use." This imagery appears repeatedly in the Old Testament, particularly in Isaiah and Jeremiah, where the potter and clay illustrate God's authority over His creation and His freedom to accomplish His purposes through individuals and nations (Isaiah 29:16; 45:9; 64:8; Jeremiah 18:1–10). The text in Jeremiah 18 is particularly significant because its use of the imagery accommodates genuine human response. God describes His authority over nations while also declaring that His announced actions toward them may change depending upon whether they turn from evil or turn toward it.
Again, the point should not be weakened. God is sovereign. He possesses the authority to appoint people to different purposes within His creation, and mankind is in no position to declare Him unjust simply because His purposes do not conform to our expectations.
Paul then continues:
"What if God, desiring to show his wrath and to make known his power, has endured with much patience vessels of wrath prepared for destruction, in order to make known the riches of his glory for vessels of mercy, which he has prepared beforehand for glory?"
Here we should be especially careful not to claim either more or less than Paul says. The language of "destruction" and "glory" may certainly carry eternal implications. Nothing requires us to reduce these terms to merely temporal consequences. Yet neither should we turn Paul's words into a statement more explicit than the one he actually makes. Paul introduces the thought with "What if," and there is also an important difference in how he describes the two kinds of vessels. The vessels of wrath are described as "prepared for destruction," while God is explicitly identified as the One who "prepared beforehand" the vessels of mercy for glory. Paul does not simply state that God predetermined one group of individuals for eternal destruction and another for eternal salvation.
Even if destruction and glory ultimately include eternal consequences, therefore, another question still remains: has Paul established that God predetermined which individuals would occupy those categories independently of their response to Him?
That conclusion is far less certain.
What Romans 9 establishes beyond question is God's sovereignty. God determines how His promises will be fulfilled. He chooses how His purposes will unfold. He is free to extend mercy where mercy is not owed. He can appoint individuals and nations to particular purposes within history, and even human resistance cannot prevent Him from accomplishing what He has determined to do.
Some will object that a God who truly controls history cannot also grant genuine freedom. That objection assumes God's control works the way ours does. When we cannot prevent another person's choices from affecting our lives, we conclude we are not in control. But as Chapter One established, we were made in God's image; He was not made in ours. We cannot project our limitations upon Him. Scripture shows God accomplishing His purposes with certainty, yet it never presents Him as a reluctant or reactive observer of human choices. His sovereignty is not diminished by granting freedom; it is the very thing that makes granting it possible. Only a God whose control is beyond our comprehension could give mankind real choice and still remain fully in command. Scripture does not explain how He does this. It simply affirms that He does.
None of this conflicts with the assertions about relationship we have described throughout this chapter. Indeed, Moses and Jonah already demonstrated that God can sovereignly determine that a particular historical purpose will be accomplished while still allowing the person involved to question, resist, obey, disobey, and respond to Him within that purpose. God's sovereignty over history and mankind's meaningful response to God are not necessarily competing realities.
Romans 9 therefore leaves us with an important distinction. God's sovereign authority tells us that He possesses the right to determine how His creation will operate. It does not, by itself, tell us that He has chosen to determine every individual's response to Him. To answer that question, we must continue listening to Scripture.
If God possesses the sovereign authority to determine how mankind may enter into relationship with Him - and Romans 9 unquestionably affirms that He does - then the next question is not whether God has that authority. The question now is how Scripture tells us He has chosen to exercise it.
John 6:44–45 — Drawn by the Father
Jesus provides an important statement in John 6:
"No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws him. And I will raise him up on the last day. It is written in the Prophets, 'And they will all be taught by God.' Everyone who has heard and learned from the Father comes to me." (John 6:44–45)
Jesus' first statement is unmistakable. No one comes to Christ unless the Father draws him. God acts first. Whatever role mankind's response may ultimately play, that response does not begin independently of God.
This is entirely consistent with what we have already observed throughout this book. God initiates the relationship. He reveals Himself. He makes the promises. He provides what mankind cannot provide for himself. The question has never been whether God acts first. The question is whether His initiative determines who will respond, or whether He genuinely calls mankind and allows each person to respond to what He has revealed.
That distinction becomes important when Jesus continues into verse 45. He does not leave His statement about the Father's drawing by itself, but immediately turns to the prophets: "And they will all be taught by God." He then adds, "Everyone who has heard and learned from the Father comes to me."
Jesus therefore connects the Father's drawing with His teaching. God acts first: He reveals, teaches, and makes Himself known. Those who hear and learn from the Father come to Christ.
This does not diminish the necessity of God's initiative. Without the Father, no one comes. But necessity and selectivity are not the same thing. Saying that no one can come unless God draws him establishes what is necessary for a person to come; it does not, by itself, establish that God has chosen to draw only certain individuals. That question must be answered from the larger testimony of Scripture.
Even within John 6, Jesus' language repeatedly concerns belief and unbelief, hearing and learning, coming to Him and refusing to come. His statement in verses 44-45 therefore belongs within a larger discussion concerning how people respond to what God is revealing through His Son.
For that reason, John 6 should not be understood as contradicting the initiative we have already attributed entirely to God. Quite the opposite. Jesus makes that initiative explicit. The Father draws. The Father teaches. Mankind does not create the invitation.
The remaining question is whether God extends that invitation only to those whose response has been predetermined by Him, or whether His desire and invitation extend more broadly, to every human being.
To answer that question, we must look beyond the necessity of God's call and consider what Scripture says about whom God desires to answer it.
God's Desire That All Should Come to Him
If John 6 establishes that God must initiate the relationship, Scripture elsewhere speaks directly to the breadth of His desire for mankind. Peter writes:
"The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance." (2 Peter 3:9)
Paul expresses a similar thought in his first letter to Timothy:
"This is good, and it is pleasing in the sight of God our Savior, who desires all people to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth." (1 Timothy 2:3–4)
These statements are important because they address God's desire directly. Peter describes God as not wishing that ANY should perish, but that ALL should reach repentance. Paul describes God as desiring all people to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth.
This same breadth appears in some of Scripture's most familiar invitations. Jesus tells Nicodemus:
"For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life." (John 3:16)
The emphasis is not upon identifying beforehand which individuals are permitted to believe. The invitation is expressed in terms of whoever believes. God's provision comes first: He loves, He gives His Son, and salvation is then promised to the one who believes.
Jesus uses similarly expansive language elsewhere:
"If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink." (John 7:37)
And near the conclusion of Scripture, the invitation remains:
"Let the one who is thirsty come; let the one who desires take the water of life without price." (Revelation 22:17)
Read together, these passages provide an important perspective on the question raised by John 6. Scripture unquestionably teaches that God must act first. Yet when Scripture speaks directly about God's desire, His provision, and His invitation, it repeatedly uses language that extends outward rather than narrowing the call to an explicitly predetermined group.
This does not mean that everyone will respond. Scripture plainly teaches otherwise. Nor does it mean that mankind can come to God independently of His initiative. John 6 has already excluded that possibility.
Rather, these passages help distinguish between God's initiation of the relationship and mankind's response to it. God reveals Himself. God calls. God provides the means of salvation. God desires that mankind come to repentance. Yet Scripture continues to speak to those who hear that call as people who must believe, trust, and repent.
This brings the different passages into a coherent relationship. Romans 9 establishes God's sovereign authority. John 6 establishes the necessity of God’s initiative. And the broader testimony of Scripture reveals the breadth of His desire and invitation.
God's sovereignty therefore does not require us to conclude that His invitation is offered only to those whose response He has already determined. Scripture presents a God who acts first, provides what mankind could never provide for himself, and genuinely calls people to respond to Him in faith.
The Nature of Faith
This understanding is also consistent with the nature of faith we examined in Chapter 2. Paul repeatedly returns to Abraham as the example of a person who believed what God had promised, and whose faith was counted to him as righteousness. At the conclusion of Romans 4, Paul extends that same principle to us:
"But the words 'it was counted to him' were not written for his sake alone, but for ours also. It will be counted to us who believe in him who raised from the dead Jesus our Lord." (Romans 4:23–24)
The distinction is important. God made the promise. God provided what Abraham could never provide for himself. Abraham's response was to believe the God who had spoken to him. Paul does not treat that faith as a work by which Abraham earned God's favor; in fact, Romans 4 explicitly contrasts faith with works. Faith receives what God provides rather than earning it.
Hebrews 11 presents faith in much the same relational way:
"Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen." (Hebrews 11:1)
Faith therefore involves trusting what God has revealed even when what He has promised cannot yet be seen.
Paul's words in Ephesians 2:8–9 are consistent with this same distinction:
"For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast."
While this passage clearly identifies salvation as God's gift, through grace, it does not assert that both grace and faith are provided by God within the context of our relationship with Him. Paul makes a clear distinction in the language he uses: we are saved “by grace” and “through faith”. The passage distinguishes between the grace by which God provides salvation through Jesus Christ and the faith through which mankind responds to what He has provided. Faith, therefore, does not add anything to God’s provision, but is our response to God’s grace and the expression of our desire for relationship with Him. Romans 4 has already established that faith is not a work and therefore provides no grounds for boasting. God does credit righteousness to Abraham because of his faith. If God had provided the faith, God would have credited Himself for Abraham’s faith, scripture consistently shows God claiming credit for what He has done. By properly acknowledging Abraham's faith and presenting a working definition of faith in Hebrews 11, we find that Ephesians 2 fits naturally within the same pattern: God provides salvation by grace, and mankind responds to what He has provided through faith.
None of this diminishes God's initiative. Without God's revelation there would be nothing to believe. Without His promises there would be nothing to trust. Without His grace there would be no salvation to receive. God remains the initiator and provider throughout. Yet Scripture consistently treats the response of faith as meaningful. This brings us back to the relationship with which this chapter began. God initiates. He reveals Himself. He calls. He provides. Mankind is then called to respond in faith.
An Honest, Loving Relationship
Perhaps no single image captures the relationship we have been describing more simply than Christ's words to the church in Laodicea:
"Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me." (Revelation 3:20)
The immediate context is Christ's message to a church that had grown spiritually complacent, but His words are addressed personally: "If anyone hears my voice and opens the door." The image itself is striking. Christ comes to the door. Christ knocks. Christ speaks. But He does not force the door open. The person on the other side must hear His voice and open it. Only then does Christ describe what follows: "I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me."
The picture contains both sides of the relationship we have observed throughout Scripture. God initiates. He approaches mankind first. Yet His initiative does not eliminate the significance of the response. Christ knocks, but the person opens.
This also helps us understand why faith occupies such a central place in mankind's relationship with God. God has revealed Himself sufficiently for mankind to know that He is there and to respond to Him, yet He has not ordinarily revealed Himself in a manner that makes disbelief impossible. If God's presence were imposed upon every person with such overwhelming certainty that no alternative response remained possible, acknowledgment could be compelled by the circumstances themselves. But acknowledgment is not the same as faith, and neither is it necessarily love.
Faith requires us to trust the God who has revealed Himself. As Hebrews has already reminded us, it involves "the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen." God provides the evidence, the revelation, the promises, and ultimately the means of salvation. Mankind is called to trust Him.
This does not mean that God lacks the power to make Himself undeniable. Nor does it mean that greater revelation necessarily eliminates every possibility of rebellion. Israel witnessed God's power in Egypt, crossed the Red Sea, and stood before Mount Sinai amid thunder, fire, and the voice of God, yet soon afterward fashioned the golden calf (Exodus 14; 19; 32). Their experience demonstrates that even extraordinary revelation does not necessarily produce trust, faithfulness, or love. The point is narrower: God's ordinary relationship with mankind leaves room for faith to function as a meaningful response rather than reducing relationship to unavoidable acknowledgment.
This brings us back to the question at the heart of this chapter: What kind of relationship does God desire with mankind?
The testimony of Scripture does not require us to choose between God's sovereignty and a meaningful human response. Romans 9 establishes God's authority to accomplish His purposes according to His will. John 6 establishes that no one comes to Christ apart from the Father's initiative. Scripture then tells us that God desires all people to be saved and repeatedly extends His invitation to those who will believe. Romans 4 and Hebrews 11 present faith as the response of those who trust what God has revealed and promised. And Revelation 3:20 brings these truths together in a single image. God comes first. God knocks. God calls. Mankind is called to open the door.
This is the honest, loving relationship we first encountered in Chapter 1. It does not begin because mankind searches for God independently or provides something God lacks. Scripture consistently places the initiative with God. As John wrote, "We love because he first loved us" (1 John 4:19). But being first is not the same as being the only participant.
Love is returned. Trust is given. Faith responds to a promise. The relationship is real precisely because both parties genuinely participate in it.
God's sovereignty is not diminished by this relationship. The sovereign God Himself determined its terms. He chose to create mankind capable of relationship with Him. He chose to reveal Himself. He chose to make promises. He chose to provide salvation by grace through faith. And He chose to call mankind to respond.
The question, therefore, was never whether God is sovereign enough to determine mankind's response for him. He unquestionably possesses authority over His creation. The question is whether Scripture tells us that He has chosen to do so.
Taken as a whole, the picture Scripture presents points in another direction. God pursues mankind without reducing relationship to compulsion. He calls without making the response meaningless. He provides everything necessary for salvation without turning faith into a work by which salvation is earned. He remains sovereign while allowing mankind's response to Him to possess genuine significance.
That is what makes the relationship honest.
And it is what allows love to remain love.