Election is not a riddle to solve. It’s a pillow to rest your head on at night.
Few doctrines have caused as many late-night arguments, sleepless seminarians, and frustrated pew-sitters as election—also called the doctrine of predestination. You know, the whole business about God choosing, predestining, or electing us unto salvation.
If you want to clear a room of believers faster than yelling, “Free beer in the fellowship hall,” just bring up predestination. The Reformed camp has their tulips. The Arminians plant flowers of their own. But for ordinary believers who don’t read Latin and who get nervous when church people argue too loudly—the doctrine of election can sound less like comfort and more like a game of cosmic Russian roulette. “What if God didn’t pick me? What if I’m on the outside looking in?”
So let’s talk about election, for the rest of us.
Too Much Arguing, Not Enough Gospel
The church has been fighting about this for centuries. Augustine and Pelagius got the ball rolling. Luther and Erasmus debated it in connection with the bound will. Calvin and Arminius dug in even deeper, and ever since, theologians have been duking it out like a couple of grumpy old men arguing about whose lawn looks greener. [1]
The problem is that somewhere in all the arguing, we lost the point. Instead of hearing election as a word of comfort, people started hearing it as a word of terror. Instead of gospel, it got turned into law.
That’s what religious folks do best—turn good news into bad news. It’s like taking a birthday cake and telling the birthday kid, “You can only eat this if you first solve a calculus problem.”
Christ at the Center
The Lutheran tradition has their own take on this biblical doctrine, but it’s not one we talk much about. Here’s what we bring to the table: election isn’t some abstract puzzle about the secret will of God. It’s not about trying to peek behind the curtain of eternity to see if your name is scribbled on some heavenly list.
Election is about Christ. Period.
Paul says in Ephesians 1:4–5, “He chose us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before him. In love he predestined us for adoption to himself as sons through Jesus Christ.”
Notice the key phrase: in him. You want to know if you’re chosen? Then look to Christ crucified and risen for you. He’s the elect one. By the way, the prepositions show location. In him, you’re included. Through him, you’re an adopted child. And note when this happened? Before the foundation of the world.
Luther once said that trying to search out election apart from Christ is like staring into the blazing sun—you’ll go blind. But if you look to Christ, suddenly everything comes into focus.
Gospel, Not Law
Like the sacraments, election is either gospel or it’s no comfort at all.
If election is law, it sounds like this: “Work hard, behave yourself, and maybe God will choose you. Who knows? Better not mess up, just in case.” That’s about as comforting as a dentist saying, “This may or may not hurt. We’ll see.”
But when election is gospel, it sounds like this: “Before you ever thought of God, he thought of you. Before you ever loved him, he loved you. Before the foundation of the world, he set his heart on you in Christ.”
That’s why Paul could say in Romans 8:30–31, “Those whom he predestined he also called, and those whom he called he also justified, and those whom he justified he also glorified. What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us?”
Now that’s comfort. That means your salvation doesn’t depend on your fragile faith, your up-and-down feelings, or your weak attempts at obedience. It depends on God’s eternal yes in Jesus.
When Election Gets Twisted
Years ago, a frightened elderly woman approached me after worship and said, “Pastor, I’m worried that I may not be one of God’s elect.”
I asked, “Were you baptized?”
She said, “Yes.”
I put my hand on her shoulder and responded, “Then you’re in. Stop worrying. God’s Word was spoken, and he never lies. Baptism is one of the electing means God uses to bring sinners into his family.”
That’s the Lutheran move. Instead of speculating about God’s hidden will, we point people to the revealed will of God in the Gospel: Christ died for you. The Word was preached to you. The sacraments were given to you. That’s not a maybe. That’s an objective certainty.
But when we turn election into law, into a secret list we have to figure out, it drives us to despair. And Luther himself knew more than a little about despair. He wrestled with it enough to fill a dozen counseling offices. That’s why he refused to look anywhere but Christ.
The Comfort of Being Chosen
Speaking from experience, if you’ve ever been the last kid picked on the schoolyard for dodgeball, you know how lousy it feels to be passed over.
Election is God’s way of saying, “In Christ, I picked you.”
But it’s not because you were faster or smarter or more righteous than the rest of us. Quite the opposite. God picked you because you were none of those things. He doesn’t choose like we do. He elects out of pure love, because no one deserves to be on his team. He can only elect sinners, after all, because that’s all he has to work with.
Now, if you want to argue about how human freedom fits into all this, or why some believe and others don’t, go ahead. Theologians love to chew on those questions. But for the rest of us, the comfort is simple: Christ is for you. God chose you in him. And nobody and nothing—no sin, no devil, no weak-kneed failure—can undo that.
Don’t believe me? Then trust what Paul wrote: “For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Rom. 8:38-39)
I do understand why people who think deeply about this topic are scared out of their wits. They’re like kids whistling past a graveyard, trying to sound confident while wondering if a monster’s behind the tombstone.
That’s why we need to laugh a little, and let the gospel defang the monster.
For the Rest of Us
So, election for the rest of us? It’s not a riddle to solve. It’s a pillow to rest your head on at night.
It means your salvation isn’t an accident. You’re not hanging by a thread. You’re not sneaking into heaven through the back door.
If you’re still worried you might not be elect, here’s some advice: stop staring in the mirror and look to the cross.
God set his heart on you from the start, in Christ, and nothing can change that.
It means when you doubt, when you fear, when you feel unworthy, you can say, “But Christ is worthy. And in him, I am chosen.”
And if you’re still worried you might not be elect, here’s some advice: stop staring in the mirror and look to the cross. Stop guessing about God’s hidden plans and listen to his loud, clear Word:
“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).
Guess who’s in the world? You!
The next time somebody wants to drag you into a fight about double predestination or irresistible grace or free will, you can smile kindly and say, “I know this much: Christ died for sinners. I qualify. And that’s enough.”
Because when all is said and done, election is a doctrine dripping with gospel. And the gospel is always for the rest of us.
[1] I can say this as a grumpy old man who has argued about this very topic, so if you want to go deeper down the rabbit hole on election, please see chapter 2 of my book Wittenberg vs. Geneva: A Biblical Bout in Seven Rounds on Doctrines that Divide (Irvine, CA: New Reformation, 2016).
