“We are completely sinful,” says the Calvinist. “In our natural state, even our best intentions are corrupted by the basic selfishness that poisons and perverts our most core impulses. There is nothing good in us.”
The problem with the Calvinist doctrine of the Total Depravity of Man is that there is nothing in a totally sinful soul for God to save. It is not merely unworthy of heaven, but worthless. For when we talk about depravity or sinfulness, we are talking about the corruption and ruin of the soul. If the whole soul is corrupt, then what part of it does God want to save? Does God love to rescue wickedness from punishment, or delight to bring blackness into his heavenly light?
A few months ago I planted some flowers in our mulch patch–a fledgling attempt at gardening. One Friday as we were about to leave town for a few days, I decided that, instead of diluting the Miracle Grow in water and watering the flowers, I would just sprinkle a little of the powder onto their bases and let the rain that was forecast that night dissolve it into the soil. #dumbo #thegreenthumbgeneskippedme
When I came back a few days later, I found to my horror that it hadn’t rained, or rained enough, and instead of fertilizing my plants, the chemicals had scourged my plants with burns that had turned them into dry, brown plant-corpses. I decided to dig them up and replace them with new plants from the store, swallowing the extra cost as a learning-the-hard-way tuition fee.
Two of them seemed to have retained some life. While one looked like it would definitely survive, the other had just one thin little twig of green peaking out on the side under the dead mass. (Presumably I had missed a spot with my fertilizer.) I decided to let it live and see if it could be nursed back to health. I replaced the dead ones but let it and its healthier brother remain. Since then, I have been overjoyed to see that, growing out of the center through the dead scrubbiness, new green has returned to it! I am confident now that this little shrub will live to bloom another day.
My point is that I did not save the plants that were totally dead, but the plants that had life left in them. The plants that showed no green I threw away. Is God, the wise gardener of souls, more a fool than I, a foolish gardener of flowers? Does he not see a shred of hope, a shred of beauty and value in the soul of those whom he saves? Does he not see the glorious figure of the unfallen Adam in the shriveled and reduced form of his offspring? Does he not remember that we are his blood, though we have forgotten it, and that, like Darth Vader, there is still good in us? Does he not deem valuable those for whom he exchanges his own Son?
The heart of Jesus at the moment of his death, a heart broken and bleeding with desperate, fiery love, charging into death for us as a lion and a lamb–is this heart one that takes pity on worthless refuse, or one that bursts with passion for a worthy beloved?
In what sense, then, is it helpful to speak of total depravity? It is one thing to say that we cannot earn our way to heaven by mere good works. It is another thing to say that the human soul has nothing good until God causes it to partake in the new birth. The very fact that it is a human soul means that it has been bestowed by God with a great and sacred value that demands respect in our thinking and our theology.