
This article has been adapted from MARSCAST Episode 260 featuring Dr. J. Mark Beach, Dr. Andrew Compton, and Rev. Steve Swets of Redeemer United Reformed Church in St. John, Dyer, IN.
In our previous article, we dipped our toes into the doctrine of common grace—a term familiar to many within Reformed circles, yet often misunderstood or loaded with complexity. We asked foundational questions: What is common grace? Why do we speak of it? And how does it fit within the broader narrative of biblical theology?
But to leave the conversation there would be to ignore the deeply historical and even painful backdrop against which this doctrine came to prominence. In this post, we dig into one of the most defining theological disputes in American Reformed history—a controversy that not only shaped denominations but challenged the very vocabulary of grace, goodness, and God’s relationship with the world.
Welcome to the 1924 common grace controversy.
To understand the 1924 debate, we need to rewind several decades and cross the Atlantic. The origins of the controversy are deeply rooted in the theological developments within the Dutch Reformed tradition. At the heart of it all was one towering figure: Abraham Kuyper.
Kuyper was more than a theologian—he was a pastor, journalist, educator, and even Prime Minister of the Netherlands. He founded the Free University of Amsterdam in 1880, which quickly became a beacon for Reformed intellectualism. Through his writings, teachings, and institutional influence, Kuyper shaped an entire generation of ministers and theologians—not just in the Netherlands but also in North America, where Dutch immigrants brought his ideas with them.
Two of Kuyper’s most important works in this context were his volumes on Common Grace (De Gemeene Gratie) and his writings on Particular Grace. Kuyper was convinced that Reformed theology had neglected a crucial aspect of God’s providential relationship with the world. While Calvinism had rightly emphasized God’s special, salvific grace toward the elect, Kuyper wanted to explore how God’s goodness extended even to those outside the covenant community.
In short, Kuyper argued that God, in His mercy, restrains sin, upholds creation, and allows even unbelievers to contribute meaningfully to society. That, he said, was common grace—not saving grace, but a real, albeit non-redemptive, benevolence.
But not everyone was on board.
By the early 1900s, many American Dutch Reformed pastors were being trained in the Netherlands or by theologians who had studied there. As Kuyper’s ideas began to take root in the Christian Reformed Church (CRC), they were welcomed by some as a theological breakthrough—an invigorating framework for engaging with culture and affirming God’s sovereignty over every square inch of life, as Kuyper famously said.
However, others were more skeptical. The tension lay not just in Kuyper’s conclusions, but in the way his ideas were being received, adapted, and applied in the American context.
In the Netherlands, Kuyper was meticulous in his use of language. In Dutch, he used different words to distinguish saving grace (particuliere genade) from common grace (gemeene gratie), drawing on Latin roots to ensure clarity. But in English, the word "grace" is more singular—and this linguistic collapse created confusion and discomfort.
To critics like Herman Hoeksema, a rising theological voice in the CRC, this linguistic imprecision was more than a semantic issue. It opened the door to what he saw as a theological compromise: blurring the lines between God's saving love for the elect and His general providential care for all people.
As Kuyper’s teachings filtered into sermons, classrooms, and CRC publications, some pastors began pushing back. The stage was set for a showdown.
The defining moment came in 1924, when the Synod of the CRC met in Kalamazoo, Michigan. At the heart of their agenda was the formalization of Kuyperian theology within the denomination—specifically, the adoption of what became known as the "Three Points of Common Grace."
These three points were:
At face value, these points seem reasonable—many Reformed believers today accept them without much fuss. But for Hoeksema and others, the problem wasn't so much what was being said, but how and why it was being said.
They feared that the language of "grace" was being diluted, misapplied to the reprobate, and divorced from the covenantal context of salvation. To them, calling anything God does for the non-elect “grace”—even restraining their sin or letting them paint masterpieces—was misleading. Grace, they insisted, is favor, and favor belongs to the elect alone.
Refusing to accept the Three Points, Hoeksema, George Ophoff, and Henry Danhof stood their ground. The CRC Synod responded by removing them from office.
This expulsion led directly to the formation of the Protestant Reformed Churches in America (PRCA)—a new denomination, born out of conviction and controversy.
To understand the intensity of the controversy, we need to dive a little deeper into the theological roots.
At the heart of the debate was a fundamental disagreement over how God's grace operates in a fallen world. For Hoeksema and his colleagues, the doctrine of unconditional election was not just a cornerstone—it was the lens through which all of God's actions were interpreted.
If God elects some to salvation and passes over others (reprobation), then His disposition toward the non-elect could not, in their view, be one of favor. Even if God provides them with sunshine and rain, He does so not out of grace, but out of divine purpose—perhaps even as a means of increasing their judgment (cf. Romans 2:5).
This view inevitably shapes one’s understanding of God's providence, culture, and ethics. For example, if your unbelieving neighbor helps your grandmother across the street, is that good? Hoeksema would say it’s better than the alternative, sure—but is it righteous? No, because righteousness can’t come from a heart that isn’t reconciled to God.
In contrast, Kuyper and his followers sought a more layered view. They believed in a nuanced expression of God's goodness—a grace that isn’t saving, but still real. They saw this grace not as undermining total depravity, but as explaining how a depraved world is still beautiful, orderly, and livable.
The 1924 controversy didn’t happen in isolation. Just two years earlier, the CRC had gone through the “Jansen affair”—a dispute over Professor Ralph Jansen, who was accused of undermining biblical authority by questioning the historicity of early Genesis and the supernatural elements of the Old Testament.
Hoeksema was involved in the committee that investigated Jansen, and he was not shy about calling out what he saw as creeping liberalism in the church.
This background matters because it shaped the mood of the Synod in 1924. There was suspicion in the air—a sense that modernism and higher criticism were knocking at the door, and that the doctrine of common grace might become a Trojan horse.
Indeed, in the decades that followed, some critics would argue that Kuyper’s theology, when divorced from his confessional orthodoxy, did exactly that. It gave Christians an excuse to embrace secular culture without discernment. The tension between engagement and antithesis—between affirming culture and opposing it—was never fully resolved.
In theory, common grace offered a path forward for Christians who wanted to engage the world. It provided a rationale for studying philosophy, advancing in the sciences, entering public life, and appreciating the arts—all while maintaining theological fidelity.
And to a large extent, it worked. Kuyperian thinkers helped establish Christian schools, newspapers, and political parties. The Reformed tradition found ways to speak into economics, education, and ethics with intellectual rigor and theological depth.
But in practice, things weren’t always so clean.
Critics argued that common grace was too often used to justify compromise. They pointed to Christian colleges where orthodoxy eroded, seminaries that flirted with liberal theology, and social activism that drifted from gospel roots. What began as theological curiosity, they said, turned into cultural accommodation.
And without a strong doctrine of antithesis—the deep divide between belief and unbelief, light and darkness—common grace became untethered from the very gospel it was meant to support.
Historians still debate whether the Synod of 1924 made the right call. Some argue the Three Points were necessary to preserve theological order. Others, like Dr. John Bolt, suggest they lacked sufficient nuance and failed to provide the guardrails Kuyper himself would have insisted on.
What’s undeniable is that the fallout shaped the next century of Reformed life in North America. The CRC leaned into cultural engagement, while the PRCA emphasized doctrinal purity and separation. Each tradition carried strengths—and blind spots.
Perhaps the tragedy of 1924 wasn’t the disagreement itself, but the way it unfolded: harsh words, personal attacks, and broken fellowship. Theological precision matters, but so does Christian charity.
The doctrine of common grace is far from a settled issue. In fact, the questions it raises are more relevant than ever:
These aren’t abstract questions—they affect how we raise our children, engage in politics, read the news, and work our jobs.
As we continue to explore these themes in one more article, one thing remains clear: history is more than names and dates. It's theology lived out. And sometimes, as in 1924, theology divides—but it also calls us back to seek clarity, put on humility, and strive for faithfulness.