Who’s Responsible For Salvation?
There really is a noticeable and active tension surrounding the term “faith” in the New Testament. In some places, the writers seem to stress the importance of our faith, while in others, the emphasis appears to fall on the faithfulness of Jesus himself. At first glance, it can almost feel like we have to choose:
Are we going to rest salvation on Jesus’ faithfulness or our own?
Christians have been wrestling with some version of that question for a long time. Arminianism—which probably sounds familiar to many of us who grew up in Western evangelical Christianity—emphasizes God’s desire to save everyone while maintaining our freedom to resist that salvation. Calvinism, on the other hand, places the emphasis much more heavily on God’s sovereign choice, teaching that God effectually saves those he has chosen (the “elect”). Although they answer the question very differently, both systems highlight a tension I’ve wrestled with for years:
What did Jesus actually accomplish for humanity, and what role does our response play in making that salvation a lived reality?
Or perhaps we could make the question even more basic:
Did Jesus actually accomplish salvation, or did he merely make salvation possible?
But I’ve come to believe we don’t have to choose between Christ’s faithfulness and ours. Nor do we have to minimize all the passages about our faith and belief in order to affirm that Christ objectively accomplished something for humanity. Perhaps the tension begins to resolve when we understand that our faith doesn’t make Christ’s work true; rather, our faith awakens us to, and invites us to participate in, what Christ has already made true. That distinction can reconcile a surprising amount of the biblical language.
The objective work of Christ
There are New Testament passages that sound astonishingly universal in scope:
“As in Adam all die, so also in Christ all will be made alive.” —1 Corinthians 15:22
“Through one act of righteousness there resulted justification of life to all people.” —Romans 5:18
“God was in Christ reconciling the world to Himself.” —2 Corinthians 5:19
And perhaps especially:
“If One died for all, therefore all died.” —2 Corinthians 5:14
Notice Paul doesn’t say, “If one died for all, then everyone who believes died.” Instead, he draws an objective conclusion: one died for all; therefore all died.
Similarly, reconciliation in 2 Corinthians 5 begins with God’s action, not ours. Paul doesn’t say, “God will reconcile you if you believe.” He says: “God was in Christ reconciling the world to Himself.” Then, remarkably, he turns around and says: “Be reconciled to God.” Although this two-fold action can seem confusing and even contradictory, it actually gives us both sides of the equation. Something has happened. Now enter into it. God has acted in Christ to reconcile us, and our response is how we awaken to, experience, and participate in the reality of what he has already accomplished.
Interestingly, this way of thinking about Christ’s work isn’t some new theological development. As far back as the second century, Irenaeus described Jesus as the One who “recapitulates” humanity in himself. In other words, Christ doesn’t merely stand outside the human story offering us a way out; he enters our story, takes humanity up into himself, and becomes the New Adam.
Irenaeus writes that just as humanity was affected “by the disobedience of the one man,” it was necessary that “by the obedience of one man…many should be justified and receive salvation.” That sounds remarkably similar to Paul’s argument in Romans 5. The answer to Adam’s disobedience isn’t finally our ability to produce enough obedience or faith. The answer is Christ’s obedience from within our humanity.
So where does our faith come in?
With this piece in place, we can preserve the importance of all those “believe” passages without turning faith into the thing that accomplishes salvation. Think about John 3:16: “Whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life.”
It would be easy to hear that transactionally: Jesus did his part → I supply the necessary faith → salvation becomes true. But another way of hearing it is: Jesus has accomplished reconciliation → faith awakens me to that reality → I begin participating in the life that is already being offered to me in Christ. In that framework, belief matters enormously. It just isn’t the cause of God’s saving action. Faith is reception rather than achievement.
Paul’s language of “the faith of Christ” is important
This is touching on one of the fascinating debates surrounding phrases such as pistis Christou. For example, Galatians 2:16 can be translated/interpreted as either “faith in Jesus Christ” or “the faith/faithfulness of Jesus Christ.” Likewise Romans 3:22: “…even the righteousness of God which is by faith of Jesus Christ unto all and upon all them that believe…”
There is legitimate scholarly debate over the grammar, so it’s a bit difficult to build an entire case for universal reconciliation on that phrase alone. But the theological idea is unquestionably Pauline: Jesus is the faithful one. As we read in 2 Timothy: “If we are faithless, He remains faithful, for He cannot deny Himself” (2 Timothy 2:13).
Romans 5 makes this especially clear. Humanity isn’t restored because Adam’s descendants finally become sufficiently faithful. Humanity’s plight came through one man’s disobedience, and the answer comes through one man’s obedience: “Through the obedience of the One the many will be made righteous” (Romans 5:19). That’s huge. The decisive human “Yes” to God has already been spoken inside humanity by Jesus Christ. Our faith is ultimately participation in his faithfulness.
This is similar to what Scottish theologian T. F. Torrance called the “vicarious humanity of Christ.” For Torrance, Jesus doesn’t merely accomplish something for humanity from a distance. As fully human, he offers from within our humanity the faithful human response to the Father that we could never perfectly offer ourselves. This is why Torrance placed such importance on Galatians 2:20 and the “faith of the Son of God.” Our imperfect faith rests inside Christ’s perfect faithfulness. Or, as Torrance beautifully put it, “we rely wholly upon the vicarious faith of Christ and not upon ourselves even in the act of faith.”
And yet, this doesn’t eliminate our faith. It actually frees us to believe. Our response matters, but it is no longer carrying the impossible burden of making salvation work. Our faith becomes participation in his.
Unbelief still has real consequences
This, to me, is the piece a Christian universalist shouldn’t flatten. If salvation is ultimately God’s accomplishment in Christ, it doesn’t follow that belief and unbelief are meaningless. They have enormous consequences. Someone can live alienated from a reality that is nevertheless true.
The prodigal is probably a helpful analogy. As we read in Luke 15, while the younger son squanders his inheritance and lives in the far country, he’s still the father’s son. His identity as a son hasn’t disappeared, but he isn’t experiencing life as a son. He’s living among pigs, and his distorted perception has real consequences: hunger, alienation, shame, misery, and lost years.
When he “comes to himself,” he doesn’t become a son. Instead, he comes home to where he has always belonged, and discovers what the father apparently never stopped believing: “This son of mine…” That distinction is especially useful: Faith doesn’t persuade the Father to make us children. Faith awakens us to the truth that, in Christ, we’ve been brought home.
This also changes how you read “saved”
One complication is that we often make every occurrence of save/salvation mean exactly the same thing: “Going to heaven instead of hell after death.” But sozo and soteria have a much broader range in the New Testament: rescue, deliverance, healing, preservation, restoration. So when Paul says, “Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved…” (Acts 16:31), we shouldn’t automatically read our later theological framework into the word saved—as though Paul were saying, “Believe in Jesus before you die so you can escape Eternal Conscious Torment.”
For many of us, that understanding has become so deeply embedded in the way we think about salvation that it’s difficult to hear the word saved without immediately thinking, “saved from hell.” But I don’t believe the Good News is that Jesus came to rescue a small portion of humanity from never-ending conscious torment. I believe salvation is much bigger and better than that.
Faith really does save. It rescues us from blindness, fear, alienation, destructive ways of living, and participation in the old creation. It ushers us consciously into the life of the Kingdom. It awakens us to participation with and in the life of the Father, Son, and Spirit. That’s not pretend salvation. That’s enormous. But it doesn’t mean that our believing is the mechanism that causes God to change our ultimate status from damned to redeemed. Beloved, our ability to believe isn’t that powerful.
Philippians holds both ideas together
In Philippians 2, Paul speaks directly into this tension of faith: “Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling; for it is God who is at work in you, both to desire and to work for His good pleasure.” —Philippians 2:12–13
Paul plainly says, “Work it out.” But why? Because God is already at work in you. That’s different from work for your salvation. It’s manifestation rather than manufacture. Participation rather than production. And notice the order. Paul doesn’t tell us to work so that God will begin working. Nor does he tell us to produce something God will then reward with salvation. Our working rests inside of God’s working. We respond because God has already acted and is presently at work within us. Once again, the human response is very real, but it isn’t carrying the weight of accomplishing salvation.
We work out what God is working in. And that, to me, beautifully captures the relationship between Christ’s faithfulness and ours.
This keeps universalism from becoming “belief doesn’t matter”
I actually think this is crucial. Christian universalism becomes thin if it simply says:“Everybody’s saved, so do whatever you please.” The New Testament doesn’t sound like that. Paul pleads, Jesus calls people to believe, the apostles preach repentance, and people are genuinely warned about judgment. There is urgency, but the urgency doesn’t mean, “Believe before the deadline or God’s redemptive purpose for you permanently fails.” On the contrary, it means: “Wake up, come into the light, leave death behind, and discover who God is. Participate now in the life Christ has opened to humanity!” That’s a very different kind of evangelism, but it’s still evangelism.
This distinction can be seen this way: Christ’s faithfulness is the ground of salvation, and our faith is our participation in his faithfulness. Or even more simply: Faith doesn’t make the Good News true. Faith is how we wake up to the fact that it is true. Perhaps we could say it another way:
Our faith is not the “yes” that finally convinces God to say Yes to humanity. It is our awakening “yes” to the Yes God has already spoken over humanity in Jesus Christ.
I love the way theologian Karl Barth put it: “As truly as God has said Yes, as truly as God is God, the creature is affirmed.” —Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics
God’s Yes comes first. Ours is a response. And that allows us to take both sets of passages seriously. We don’t have to explain away Romans 5:18, 2 Corinthians 5:19, Colossians 1:20, or 1 Corinthians 15:22 in order to protect the belief passages. And we don’t have to explain away John 3:16, Acts 16:31, Romans 10:9, etc., in order to protect universal reconciliation.
They’re answering slightly different questions:
What has God accomplished in Christ?
and
How does a human being enter, experience, participate in, and live from that reality?
The first is grounded in Christ’s faithfulness. The second involves our awakening response to—and participation in—his faithfulness. And yet, even that response occurs within the gracious activity of God. As Paul reminds us, “It is God who is at work in you, both to desire and to work…”
So, who’s responsible for salvation? Ultimately, Jesus is. Our faith isn’t the missing ingredient that finally makes his work successful. It is our response to—and participation in—a salvation we could never manufacture, earn, or accomplish for ourselves. His faithfulness comes first. Our faith says yes to what his faithfulness has already accomplished.
And, friends, that sounds a whole lot more like Good News.
