Pride, Prejudice, and the Perseverance of the Saints: A Reformation Story

The girl I was five years ago looked down on anyone who was anything but a Pentecostal with Arminian tendencies. What sort of Christian believed that his salvation could not be lost?, thought I, despite being plagued by a crippling lack of assurance.

To borrow language from Jane Austen’s classic novel Pride and Prejudice, the perseverance of the saints[1] was the last doctrine in the world I could be prevailed upon to accept.

Raised in a Christian family with godly parents who taught me to compare everything to Scripture, the first book I ever read was the Bible. I do not remember a day that I did not know that Christ had come to save sinners and bear the punishment that I had earned by my sin.

I constantly heard the gospel at home and was continually inundated by Scripture. In our house, everything, from sports documentaries to picture books, was a teaching moment to point back to what Scripture teaches.

Unfortunately, all this was clouded by what I heard at church. We attended a traditional Pentecostal church that, despite acknowledging that speaking in tongues was not necessary for salvation, taught that a successful Christian life was not feasible without them and that one could lose their salvation. This thought, of losing my salvation, plagued me.

I have vivid memories of staring at my bedroom walls, wondering if I had already lost my salvation. What assurance I did have came in waves, fueled by emotional experiences and occasionally “speaking in tongues.” Each of these waves fell flat the next time I sinned knowingly. I was drowning in uncertainty. Did I truly love God? Was He angry with me? Would He blot my name out from the Book of Life?

Growing Discomfort

When I reached high school, I began to miss more church services than I ever had because of sports. I missed Sundays for tournaments and Bible study for practice.

I began to lose my close connection to the church. The tongues-speaking that seemed to resemble gibberish more than a language began to feel unfamiliar and uncomfortable. Sermons seemed increasingly less related to the text. I lost my own ability to speak in tongues and tried to push down the fear this gave me.

Because I was always told the Pentecostal church was the only ones who did things right, I ignored my misgivings. I would deal with them later. I reasoned that they were probably a result of my missing church. Though these misgivings arose, in part, from a failure to prioritize Lord’s Day worship, the Lord used them to open the door to think more about things non-Pentecostals had told me and even defended well, though I never considered changing my mind. I was too deeply prejudiced against any belief different from my own.

 Reticent to Reform, Remiss to Resist

In 2020, COVID-19 hit and school shut down. Sports were canceled. My church closed. Suddenly, I had more free time than I knew what to do with. With all this time, I again considered the questions I had pushed down for years. Why was I uncomfortable with speaking in tongues? Were my friends right about the Christian not being able to lose his salvation? Was it concerning that I never learned anything at church? What else could I be wrong about?

I had no answers, and I was terrified to be wrong. I was proud to be Pentecostal and had not been quiet about it. How embarrassing it would be to be so publicly wrong!

In May of 2020, I came across a podcast episode where the host, a Calvinistic Baptist, walked through the doctrines of grace (also called the Five Points of Calvinism) as summarized in the acronym TULIP: total depravity, unconditional election, limited atonement, and irresistible grace. Much to my own surprise, I listened to the whole thing. While I strongly disagreed with her, for the first time, I saw the logic and figured that perhaps Calvinism wasn’t heresy, after all (growing up, I had heard Calvinism was a cult). It was an extremely unsettling realization for me.

I began to search the Scriptures in search of answers, deciding to discard whatever beliefs I could not find within the Scriptures and embrace the ones I could. Full of pride, ignoring the burgeoning doubts, I was sure my study of the Bible would vindicate what I had always believed.

I was in for a rude awakening. Reading from Genesis to Revelation, by the grace of God, I saw the doctrines of grace everywhere. It was incredibly disconcerting. I struggled for weeks, until one moment, as I considered Ephesians 2:8-9[3] and what it meant to be justified apart from works, it clicked.

If I did nothing to earn salvation, surely, I could do nothing to lose it! I was safe in His hand, and nothing–including myself, as a dear friend once told me–could take me out.

The beauty of this comfort drove me to tears, and I blink some away now as I write this. I grew to love the doctrines of grace, especially the perseverance of the saints, which I once was determined to resist.

Semper Reformanda

Of course, the story does not end here. When I first “spoke in tongues,” I was told that I did not need to be baptized with water because I had been “baptized in the Holy Spirit,” which was equated with “speaking in tongues.” As I continued to study, changing my perspective on the sign gifts, I realized this was wrong and was finally baptized.

I was hungry for sound teaching. First, I discovered John MacArthur, and through him, R.C. Sproul and Ligonier Ministries: my introduction to confessionalism. I learned to appreciate the Reformed confessions. Though I had grown up being taught a more covenantal view at home, I could not bring myself to embrace paedobaptism. Once again, I was afraid to be wrong.

It all came to a head when my younger brother asked me why Presbyterians practice infant baptism. I explained briefly, not anticipating his response: “That actually makes a lot of sense.” As a result of that comment, I threw myself into studying the Reformed position on paedobaptism, reading the Reformed confessions, watching countless videos, and above all, searching the Scriptures.

I could fight it no longer. My brother was right. It did make a lot of sense for the covenant sign to belong to believers and their children.

In Pride and Prejudice, Lizzy Bennett is repulsed by the man she later grows to love because he insults her early in their acquaintance. Unlike him, the doctrines of grace (the fact that God chooses and preserves His saints by His power alone!) have always been beautiful and should have been so to me.

The only thing they could ever insult is my pride; and how greatly my pride needs to be insulted! How greatly I need to be brought low, that I may remember my need for Christ!

Sometimes I wish to go back in time and tell my younger self, “You have nothing to fear! God is perfectly sovereign, and if He saved you, He will keep you!”

But when I wish this, I remember just that: He is perfectly sovereign, and everything comes to pass in His timing, not mine.

In this perfect timing, I recently became a member of a church belonging to the United Reformed Churches in North America (URCNA) and am incredibly blessed to hear biblical preaching full of rich and beautiful theological truths every Lord’s Day. I am learning so much and am constantly reminded of how little I know.

It was a long journey to finally attend a Reformed church, full of some of the most difficult and painful conversations I have ever had, but the long story made short is this: I am a sinner, but Christ is a great Savior who shall never lose those the Father has given him.[4]

I am not the first to have gone through something like this, and I am certainly not the last. If this is you, know that the truth is worth every difficulty, the comfort it brings far outshines any sorrow, and He who began a good work in you promises to complete it; and He fulfills all His promises.[5]

Footnotes