This article has been adapted from MARSCAST Episode 259 featuring Dr. J. Mark Beach, Dr. Andrew Compton, and Rev. Steve Swets of Redeemer United Reformed Church in St. John, Dyer, IN.
Common grace is a topic that has been debated in continental Reformed circles for generations. Many are familiar with the debate that took place in the Christian Reformed Church, which eventually brought about the Protestant Reformed Churches. Even today, many people in both the Christian Reformed Church and United Reformed Churches wonder what exactly was going on in those discussions and what positions were being defended.
Over the next couple of articles, we'll talk about common grace, how the debate played out historically, and try to get a better sense of what we do and do not mean when we talk about this concept. There have been about 100 years of debate on this topic, so we can't solve it all here, but we hope to give something of a broad overview that will help clarify this important theological concept.
There have been numerous definitions of common grace through the years. If we look at theologians like Charles Hodge, the Presbyterian theologian defined it as "the influence of the Spirit, which in a greater or less measure is granted to all who hear the truth." This definition is somewhat vague, however.
A. A. Hodge offered a perhaps more helpful definition: "Common grace is the restraining and persuading influences of the Holy Spirit acting only through the truth revealed in the gospel or through the natural light of reason and of conscience, heightening the natural moral effect of such truth upon the understanding, conscience and heart." He continues, saying it "involves no change of heart, but simply an enhancement of the natural powers of the truth, the restraint of the evil passions, and an increase of the natural emotions in view of sin, duty and self-interest."
That's quite a mouthful, but he's trying to capture that it's not self-efficacious—it is a divine, undeserved influence upon humankind, restraining sin and all of its power and effects, and enhancing some natural endowments so that sin is held in check. Common grace gives an accounting for why things aren't as bad as they could be without it, and why even those who don't know Christ and aren't under the regenerating influence of the Holy Spirit can still do things that are beneficial to common life—not for God's Kingdom come, but for the well-being of life as it proceeds in its various dimensions.
To even label it as "grace" seems to recognize the context of sin, but it also recognizes the breadth of the word "grace" as used in both the Old and New Testament. In the Old Testament, the chief words are from the Hebrew root "chen" or "chanan," with variations in how they're used. Sometimes it's even used to indicate prayer (chanan in verbal form), such as when Solomon builds the temple. There are many places where this word group refers to things more broadly than narrowly salvific concerns.
The same applies to the "charis" word group in the New Testament. This breadth of meaning is important to recognize as we consider the concept of common grace theologically.
In 2 Kings 13:23 and Jeremiah 31:2, all Israel is said to have received God's "chanan," and yet we know that Israel is a mixed assembly. The elect within Israel received the full benefits of God's grace ultimately speaking, yet that "chanan" affects even those who are non-elect as well.
Isaiah 26:10 is another passage that has been debated, which seems to describe grace relating to God's enemies. It's striking that there are at least two places where Scripture predicates grace of Christ himself, showing that God shows grace to the Son. This would be problematic if we were talking about salvific saving grace, since Christ is sinless, without original sin and without actual sin. Yet in Psalm 45:2, where we have this picture of the Messiah, it says that grace has been poured out on His lips.
Similarly, in Philippians 2, Christ was "graced" with the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee shall bow. This isn't to suggest that Christ receives grace the way a sinner or creature receives grace, but simply notes that the word "grace" can have a broader range of usage in Scripture.
The biblical terms certainly allow for salvific, undeserved grace, but they have wider application too. It takes context to know whether a use of "chen" or "charis" means salvific grace or simply means thanksgiving, gift, benefit, or joy. The biblical terms allow this range of meaning by implication.
If you want to say the word "grace" only means saving grace, you're doing something the Bible itself does not do. When we talk about saving grace, common grace, or non-salvific grace, we're not violating biblical boundaries but staying within them, allowing terms to have a certain fluidity of meaning as they're used in context.
We want to avoid biblicism. We will talk about the theological ways in which we can speak of grace, but it's to remind us that before we start deciding upon what grace is or is not, we need to be aware of how the Bible uses the terms.
With the biblical language for grace compared to the English language for grace, sometimes we have to put an adjective before "grace" in English. The Bible's realm of meaning encompasses all of these words describing how God relates to His creation, His goodness, and His benevolence—we can put them in the category of grace. We have to put a "common," "special," "saving," or "non-salvific" term in front of it essentially, and it makes the discussion that much more difficult at times when people aren't speaking on the same level.
Context is king when it comes to understanding these terms. We might not all be Old or New Testament scholars, but we're all very much Bible people and recognize the importance of understanding terms in their proper context.
We do admit, however, that typically, especially in Reformed circles, if you use simply the word "grace" and you're at all theologically trained, you generally default to the idea of salvific saving grace.
In the history of Reformed theology, even with Calvin, there's interesting development. Calvin was very comfortable talking about a general or common grace of God. But sometimes, he would refer to that kind of grace as "special" because he's using the word in a special sense. He didn't always mean "saving grace" when he said "special grace"—sometimes he meant this other kind of special grace, what we now call common grace.
The Reformed tradition only through trial and error over centuries really came to a fuller, refined definition of grace, usually always meaning salvific grace when unqualified, and then using "common grace" or "general grace" to talk about this non-saving grace of God that's applicable to the world in general.
There are some Reformed writers who seem very critical of the term "common grace," but chiefly, when they're describing it, they seem to be describing the actual Arminian position rather than what has now become understood as this non-salvific favor shown towards sinners who have merited nothing but judgment from God. This can be confusing when reading some theological sources. It may appear that a writer like Hodge or Shedd is critiquing common grace, but they're not critiquing what we're talking about here so much as they're critiquing the whole concept of the Arminian view of what is called "prevenient grace" or the idea that God suddenly makes everybody savable and now it's up to them to decide.
The Canons of Dort addressed this question in the way the Arminians would misuse the concept of common grace. Rather than simply using the term, as the Reformed had, as a restraining power of God—called "grace" because it's undeserved and is a kind of favorable disposition to those who deserve none of this—they would commandeer the term "common grace" to make it preparatory and enabling for sinners to be able to act in a manner to effectuate and bring about their salvation. In this view, they could "free choice" their way into the saving grace of God, so common grace was enabling them to come to a saving grace of God. Of course, that's not how the Reformed used the term.
From a theological perspective, as we distinguish between saving grace and common grace, we're dealing with the question of the goodness of God. The Belgic Confession, Article 1, describes God as "the overflowing fountain of all good." The question becomes: what is the nature of this goodness? Is it temporary or eternal?
When we talk about general-type of grace, it's a temporary goodness. For the elect, it's an eternal goodness. Passages like Matthew 5:45, which speaks of rain falling on the just and unjust, deal with God's benevolence to all people—a common operation of the Holy Spirit, a common restraining of sin. This common work of God is a general grace that not only upholds the world but actually directs it toward a better situation.
We don't believe in absolute depravity but in total depravity, and even that distinction is part of God's goodness. The Holy Spirit is holding something back, and that's an important theological distinction to understand clearly.
The Reformed come to a doctrine of common grace only because they have a robust doctrine of human depravity. It accounts for why humans aren't absolutely depraved versus totally depraved. Why aren't they as bad as they could be? What keeps them from being that way? Why isn't the world always unraveled in total chaos?
This is where Calvin is a champion—he spoke about it among the early Reformers more than any others. There is this restraining work of God, but also a work that positively gifts non-regenerate people to achieve things that benefit themselves and a wider community. God gifts them in a way that allows them to make positive contributions to human life, even though their hearts aren't motivated correctly.
It's in the context of people whose every breath is a sign that they have not received the final sanction for their sin at that moment. We speak of grace that God shows even to Adam and Eve in the garden—God stooping down to give good things to creatures. But after the fall, we're dealing with how God performs good things against the backdrop of sin itself.
When God pours rain on a believer and that same rainstorm pours on the unbeliever next to him, how can that somehow have a different relationship between the two? Well, there are many examples in Scripture where the same divine action has different effects based on the recipient.
Take the exile, for instance. On one hand, the exile happens corporately as a purging to refine Israel and make her radiant so God can restore His bride. For true believers caught up in the national exile, that same event functions to conform them typologically to the sufferings of the true Israel to come—the Lord Himself. For unbelievers who rejected Yahweh, that very same act of exile is a type of their eternal exile. The same event coming from God can have different intents or goals.
This applies to common grace in the sense that God's good acts bless believers who belong to Him salvifically, but that same act can do good to unbelievers too, while also heaping accountability on them for not responding properly to God's goodness.
We can also think of examples like God not destroying Nineveh because of their repentance. This demonstrates a corporate responsibility unto good, where God restrained His judgment, at least for a time—unless you're convinced that everybody in Nineveh actually repented savingly, which seems unlikely.
Isn't the restraining of God's judgment better than God's immediate judgment upon Sodom and Gomorrah? The comparison shows the relative benefit that comes from God's restraining work in human affairs.
It's always a relative kind of good. We're not talking about eternal glory, salvation in Christ, or all the benefits that accrue in Christ. We're talking about a relative good—rain falling on an unbeliever's crops puts food on their table. That same rain falls on the believer's field, and they give praise to God, which can carry on to eternal glory. The non-praise of the unbeliever does not extend beyond this life.
This is what we mean by "relative good." It doesn't mean that it's a good that brings unbelievers to glory; it's just a good that puts food on their table. They're guilty for not praising God for the rain that has fallen on their field. Anytime you receive goodness from God that you don't acknowledge and give glory back to Him for, it renders you guilty for what you failed to do. You're indebted to God.
Common grace doesn't in any way mean that God doesn't hold the guilty and the non-regenerate accountable for their sins. In fact, it increases their accountability, as they have received God's goodness and failed to acknowledge its source. The very breath they take is evidence of God's patience and kindness, yet many use that breath to speak against Him.
Understanding common grace helps us make sense of the world around us. It explains why unbelievers can create beautiful art, make scientific discoveries, show kindness to others, and build functioning societies. It reminds us that God's goodness extends beyond the community of faith, even while His saving grace remains the greatest expression of His love.
This doctrine also helps us appreciate that every good thing we encounter in this world—whether it comes through believers or unbelievers—ultimately has its source in God. It encourages us to be thankful for all expressions of goodness, truth, and beauty while also reminding us that our ultimate hope lies not in the temporary goodness of this world but in the eternal goodness of salvation in Christ.
In our next artiele, we'll explore more about the historical debate over common grace and how this doctrine has been contested and defended within Reformed circles. We'll also consider some of the practical implications of this doctrine for how believers engage with the world and its cultural products.
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