Does Romans 9 teach unconditional election—or is Paul merely rehearsing Israel’s history? A recent debate tested the exegetical ground.
Introduction
In the much-anticipated debate between Dr. James White and AK Richardson on the interpretation of Romans 9, the foundational question at hand was whether Paul’s argument supports a Reformed understanding of sovereign election or a non-Calvinistic, conditional framework. AK Richardson, representing a Church of Christ perspective, argued that Romans 9 contains nothing “distinctly Calvinistic” and instead pertains solely to national or vocational election, with no bearing on individual salvation. Dr. White, drawing on the exegetical continuity from Romans 8, presented a theological and contextual reading that affirms God’s sovereign freedom in election, mercy, and hardening. He contended that Romans 9 teaches the unconditional election of individuals to salvation and the corresponding hardening of others, grounded in God’s sovereign will rather than foreseen actions.
This review aims to demonstrate that White’s reading of Romans 9 better respects both the internal flow of the passage and its broader Pauline and biblical context. By contrast, Richardson’s interpretation suffers from category confusion, an artificial separation between Romans 8 and 9, and a tendency to flatten Old Testament citations into non-soteriological generalities.
I. The Flow from Romans 8 into 9
Dr. White emphasized early in the debate: “When you read Romans 8:28–30, it’s very clear what it’s saying… those whom He foreknew — I agree, foreloved — He predestined, called, justified, and glorified. These are all the actions of God.” By setting this in direct continuity with Romans 9, White argued that Paul was addressing a theological crisis: if God’s promises are certain, how do we explain Israel’s large-scale unbelief? The answer is not that God’s word failed, but that His calling has always been effectual and according to purpose — not lineage.
One of the most glaring weaknesses in Richardson’s approach is his refusal to allow the context of Romans 8 to influence the reading of chapter 9. At one point in the debate, AK dismissively stated that Romans 8 is “off-topic” when interpreting Romans 9. But this is mistaken. White rightly emphasizes the seamless flow from Romans 8:28–30 — the golden chain of salvation — into Paul’s burden for unbelieving Israel in 9:1–5. The question that naturally arises in light of God’s sovereign purpose (“those whom he foreknew he also predestined”) is: what about Israel? Has God’s word failed (9:6)? Paul’s answer — that not all who are descended from Israel belong to Israel — presupposes the same concept of effectual calling and divine initiative that grounded chapter 8.
Richardson’s strategy is to read Romans 9 as though Romans 8 were not a theological prelude, stripping Paul’s argument of its soteriological backbone. This creates a disconnect that not only undermines the rhetorical function of Romans 9 but also misrepresents Paul’s theological burden. The calling in 9:24, which Paul says includes both Jews and Gentiles, cannot be divorced from the same calling in 8:30 that results in justification and glorification.
II. Misreading the Patriarchal Examples (Isaac, Jacob, Esau)
Richardson argues that the examples of Isaac over Ishmael and Jacob over Esau concern national election only, not individual salvation. As he put it: “We’re not talking about individual destinies. We’re talking about how God chooses to accomplish His purpose through particular people or nations. That doesn’t mean Esau went to hell — it means God chose Jacob to be the line through whom the promise came.”
But Paul’s emphasis in Romans 9:11 — “though they were not yet born and had done nothing either good or bad” — explicitly removes works or status from the equation, highlighting God’s sovereign choice “in order that God’s purpose of election might continue.” White stresses that this is precisely what Paul uses to illustrate individual salvation — that the promise does not depend on lineage, merit, or human will, but on divine mercy.
Moreover, Richardson insists that the citation of “Jacob I loved, but Esau I hated” (Malachi 1:2–3) pertains only to nations. He stated, “That’s not about individual salvation. Malachi was written long after they were dead. This is clearly talking about Israel and Edom — two nations, not two souls.” But Paul is not merely repeating Malachi’s argument — he is applying the principle of sovereign preference going back to Genesis 25. The point is not that Esau’s nation is rejected, but that God’s election operates apart from human merit or expectations — a theme consistent throughout the passage.
III. The Purpose of Hardening (Pharaoh)
Dr. White summarized his view by stating, “God said before Moses ever talked to Pharaoh: ‘I’m going to harden his heart.’ That was before the demand was even given… Could Pharaoh have short-circuited that? No.” His point was that God’s purpose in hardening is not reactive but decreed — a predetermined element of His plan to demonstrate His name and power through Pharaoh’s defiance.
Richardson downplays the hardening of Pharaoh by suggesting it was merely the result of God “pressing Pharaoh’s buttons” to get him to do what he already wanted to do. In his words: “God hardened Pharaoh by putting him in situations that He knew would provoke him. It’s not that God reached in and changed his heart — it’s that He gave Pharaoh opportunities to do what Pharaoh already wanted to do.”
He insists there is no internal divine action, no direct sovereign influence.
White, however, points out the repeated emphasis in the text: “God hardened Pharaoh’s heart,” and even more significantly, Paul’s own conclusion in 9:18 — “So then he has mercy on whomever he wills, and he hardens whomever he wills.” This is not merely reactionary or conditional; it is sovereign action grounded in God’s prerogative. The hardening is not moral persuasion — it is judicial reprobation for a redemptive purpose, a purpose that ultimately culminates in the Exodus as a type of God’s greater redemptive plan.
IV. Objection and Response (Romans 9:19–21)
The strongest indicator that Paul is talking about individual, salvific election and reprobation is the very objection he anticipates: “Why does he still find fault? For who can resist his will?” Richardson attempts to sidestep this by saying it’s just a generic complaint from someone who has been used for evil purposes. But this neuters the force of the objection — why would Paul anticipate such a visceral protest if all he was saying is that God used nations differently?
White rightly draws attention to the fact that Paul does not correct the objector’s theology — he rebukes the questioner for questioning the Creator. The analogy of the potter and the clay follows — vessels for honorable and dishonorable use are made from the same lump. The context is individuals, not nations. Paul applies this to “even us whom he has called” (9:24), a reference to believers. The entire argument is built around divine initiative, not human qualification.
V. The Rhetorical Shock of Romans 9
During the rebuttal period, AK said, “Paul is showing that God’s consistency in how He deals with people continues — and that’s why there’s no injustice with Him.” But this framing obscures the real weight of the objection Paul anticipates: “Why does he still find fault? For who can resist his will?” (v. 19). White rightly pointed out, “He mercies whom He desires and He hardens whom He desires. It all flows from what? The will of God.” The rhetoric of Romans 9 is not meant to affirm comfort — it’s designed to expose presumption and silence the creature.
AK repeatedly frames Romans 9 as a demonstration of God’s “consistency” — that God’s actions in election and hardening reflect a pattern established in the Old Testament. “Paul is showing that God’s consistency in how He deals with people continues,” AK claimed, “and that’s why there’s no injustice with Him.” This framing appeals to historical continuity and assumes that the reader should find Paul’s argument intuitively agreeable. But this stands in tension with Paul’s rhetorical structure.
Romans 9 is not framed to reassure. It is framed to provoke. Paul anticipates that his teaching will be offensive, even shocking — so much so that the hypothetical objector cries out, “Why does he still find fault? For who can resist his will?” (Rom 9:19). This objection presupposes that Paul has taught something that threatens human expectations of justice and agency. It only makes sense if Paul is asserting God’s unilateral determination of human destinies, not merely a reaffirmation of familiar Old Testament themes.
AK’s theology is internally consistent. He builds a framework that allows for divine choice, covenantal administration, and even God’s justice, without embracing unconditional individual election. However, the cost of this consistency is a weakened reading of Romans 9. By flattening the rhetoric and smoothing over the objection, AK effectively blunts Paul’s argumentative force. The very offense Paul anticipates is neutralized.
The issue comes to a head in AK’s interpretation of divine patience. He argues, “If God is enduring with much patience the vessels of wrath, then clearly they could have repented. That’s the point of patience — it gives people time to change.” But this redefines patience as divine uncertainty. It assumes God is waiting to see how the vessels will respond — that His decree is still open to revision. This clashes with the rest of Paul’s argument. The vessels of wrath are “prepared for destruction,” while the vessels of mercy are “prepared beforehand for glory” (Rom 9:22–23). There is no ambiguity here. The patience of God is not indecision; it is deliberate restraint before final judgment.
A better analogy would be that of an author writing a novel. The author determines the end from the beginning, including who lives and who dies. But he still tells the story patiently, allowing the events to unfold with pathos, even tragedy. The author is not uncertain of the outcome — he delays judgment to enrich the meaning of it. Likewise, God’s patience with the reprobate serves to make the display of His wrath more vivid, and His mercy more glorious.
White exposits the text faithfully but misses an opportunity to challenge this tension. He could have asked: If Paul is merely restating known covenantal patterns, why does he expect protest? If God is just “being consistent,” why would anyone accuse Him of injustice? Paul’s response is not explanatory — it is confrontational: “Who are you, O man, to answer back to God?” (v. 20). In removing the offense, AK removes the heart of the chapter.
VI. Missed Opportunities for White
While White’s exposition was exegetically solid and theologically coherent, he struggled to show why his opponent should conclude that Romans 9 teaches the Calvinist doctrine of unconditional election — that God sovereignly chooses whom to save apart from foreseen merit or decision. He clearly offered a Reformed interpretation of Romans 9, but he often did not explain why the choices of Isaac, Jacob, or Pharaoh should be seen as directly soteriological rather than merely historical or vocational. This left a critical opening for AK to concede nearly every exegetical detail while denying that Paul’s argument pertains to individual salvation.
For instance, AK granted that God chooses people unconditionally — even before birth — but insisted that these choices were about historical roles in the covenant, not about eternal destinies. White did not press the internal logic of the text at this point: that the burden of Paul’s argument is to explain why so many Israelites are lost despite being descended from Abraham (9:1–6), and that this burden requires a soteriological explanation, not merely a historical one. The examples serve to explain God’s pattern of salvific mercy and hardening, not merely His covenantal administration.
This allowed AK to maintain a veneer of agreement while gutting the theological implications. White’s reading fits the structure of Romans 9, but he needed to make a stronger case for why the examples of divine choice are about salvation itself — especially in light of the chapter’s connection to Romans 8. A sharper focus on what is actually being explained (Israelite unbelief in the face of God’s promises) could have helped close that gap.
One of the clearest examples of tension appears in AK’s interpretation of divine patience. He said, “If God is enduring with much patience the vessels of wrath, then clearly they could have repented. That’s the point of patience — it gives people time to change.” He added rhetorically, “So he’s having patience with his own decree? I really hope that’s dealt with, because, by the way, it’s a matter of being rational.” This challenges White to reconcile divine patience with divine sovereignty, yet White never framed the Reformed view with this kind of clarity: that God’s patience is not indecision, but dramatic unfolding — not unlike a story in which the author crafts a tragic arc to reveal mercy more vividly.
Yet Scripture presents God’s decree as fixed — the vessels of wrath in Romans 9:22 are already described as “prepared for destruction,” while the vessels of mercy are “prepared beforehand for glory.” God’s patience, then, is not a waiting-to-see posture, but a deliberate display of restraint for the sake of revealing His glory. An apt analogy would be an author who patiently crafts a tragedy: he knows the ending, he determines every action leading to it, yet he unfolds the story slowly, allowing the weight of judgment and the drama of mercy to be felt.
AK’s interpretation unintentionally implies that God’s decree is open to revision, which contradicts the whole thrust of Paul’s argument. Rather than showing a neutral reading, his view reintroduces libertarian assumptions under the guise of patience.
Moreover, AK references Jeremiah 18, saying: “I’m not saying that’s the interpretation of Romans 9 because of Jeremiah 18, I’m just giving you an example of how the vessel’s language works.” Though he clarifies that he’s not basing his interpretation on Jeremiah, the analogy still subtly suggests that vessels may change form depending on their moral posture — a point that aligns with his broader appeal to conditionality. White could have responded by showing how Paul’s use of the potter-clay metaphor diverges from Jeremiah’s conditional dynamic and instead emphasizes divine prerogative from a single lump.
There was also a confusing moment in cross-examination where White appeared to affirm libertarian freedom, stating that man must have had “the ability to do otherwise” when rejecting God. When asked about this later, White handwaved the comment as something he has always taught. However, this remark continues a pattern where White often fails to distinguish clearly between freedom from sin and freedom to sin. In practice, he affirms the Reformed doctrine of bondage of the will, but in moments like this, he lapses into language that resembles libertarianism, without clarifying the theological distinction. This often muddies what he means by terms like “autonomy” or “man-centeredness.” To White’s credit, AK handled this particular point more clearly in the debate. He consistently defined what he meant by free will and divine patience without lapsing into contradictory language. White, by contrast, would benefit from greater precision in distinguishing between affirming human responsibility and preserving divine sovereignty—particularly as it relates to God’s aseity. His use of terms like “autonomy” and “man-centeredness” often lacks definitional clarity, leaving his critiques sounding more rhetorical than substantive. AK exploited this ambiguity effectively, turning White’s complaints into empty slogans by offering a system that, while theologically weaker, appeared more internally consistent on its own terms.
White also appeared to treat total depravity as an issue outside the scope of the debate. In this, AK was mostly correct: while total depravity undergirds much of the Reformed system and informs how one interprets Romans 9, fully unpacking that doctrine in this setting would have derailed the debate. A total depravity debate would have required separate exegetical groundwork and philosophical clarity that would overwhelm the scope of a single chapter-focused exchange. AK was right to push back on its introduction, and White should have acknowledged this rather than sidestepping it ambiguously. A brief clarification from White, distinguishing total depravity’s background role from the exegetical focus of the chapter, would have sufficed and prevented misunderstanding.
That said, White did well to expound the text itself without being drawn into speculative frameworks. His consistency in grounding each point in Romans 9 and connecting it to the broader Pauline context (especially Romans 8) remains the strength of his presentation. While he could have pressed certain rhetorical weaknesses in AK’s approach more directly, his methodical treatment of the passage served to uphold the integrity of the Reformed reading without descending into polemics.
Another missed opportunity came when AK, who has publicly stated that he would rather be an Open Theist than a Calvinist, affirmed that God genuinely desires all people to have saving faith and to fulfill their divinely intended roles. In the debate, White rightly asked why, if this is God’s will, so many consistently resist Him. AK offered little more than a vague appeal to human libertarian freedom and divine patience. But White did not seize the opportunity to show the deeper implications of AK’s position — both for Romans 9 and for theology proper.
If God’s will is routinely thwarted by human will — even in matters as central as saving faith — then the divine will becomes contingent, reactive, and ultimately subordinate to human decisions. This contradicts the central argument of Romans 9: that God has mercy on whom He wills, and hardens whom He wills (v. 18), and that no one can resist His will (v. 19) in a way that undermines His justice or authority. Paul’s anticipated objection only makes sense if God’s will is decisive and determinative, not merely ideal or aspirational. But AK’s framework redefines divine willing into something weak and frustrated: God wants all to be saved, but His desire is defeated daily — not by mystery, but by man.
The theological consequence is just as serious. If God’s decree can be thwarted by creaturely resistance, then His aseity — His self-sufficiency and independence — is compromised. He becomes dependent upon human cooperation to fulfill His redemptive purposes. Under such a model, divine patience ceases to be the purposeful unfolding of a sovereign plan and instead becomes the anxious waiting of a limited deity. Paul’s whole argument in Romans 9 collapses if this is the backdrop, because his answer to the charge of injustice rests entirely on God’s absolute right and ability to do as He pleases with His creation.
White’s appeal to divine sovereignty is best understood as a doctrine of providence — not merely God’s right to save or judge, but His prerogative to govern the entire course of history, including human decisions, according to His eternal will. When White says, “He has mercy on whom He wills, and He hardens whom He wills,” he is not only defending election but affirming that God actively ordains the unfolding of redemptive history. In this view, sovereignty entails more than passive allowance; it is the providential authorship of all things. What AK presents as libertarian freedom, White implicitly treats as a challenge to God’s providential rule — a denial of His right to write the story of salvation without needing human permission.
This concern underlies White’s repeated use of terms like autonomy and man-centeredness. In Reformed usage, autonomy does not merely denote human agency, but the idea that man can act independently of God’s decree — a position Reformed theology rejects. Human freedom, as White sees it, must be compatibilist — real freedom that operates within, not outside, God’s sovereign control. Man-centeredness, likewise, does not critique concern for people or evangelistic effort; it critiques theological systems in which man’s will becomes the decisive cause of salvation. Paul’s argument in Romans 9 confronts this directly: “It does not depend on the one who wills or the one who runs, but on God who shows mercy” (v. 16).
Closely tied to this is the doctrine of aseity — the teaching that God is self-existent and self-sufficient, depending on nothing outside Himself to accomplish His will. A God whose redemptive desire is frustrated by creaturely resistance cannot be said to act solely from Himself. White gestures toward this when he asks why, if God desires all to be saved, so many are not. AK appeals to human freedom, but in doing so reduces divine desire to divine disappointment. The problem is not just that election is conditional; it’s that God’s desire becomes tragically ineffective. The God who “wills all people to be saved” is left eternally unfulfilled — unless He also wills their salvation in a determinative way. White raises this tension but stops short of fully exposing its theological implications.
This omission is especially significant in the context of Romans 9. Paul’s argument hinges on the assertion that God’s will cannot be resisted in any way that undermines His justice (vv. 19–20). Yet in AK’s model, the very things God most desires — saving faith, covenant loyalty, repentance — are perpetually thwarted. This renders Paul’s rhetorical structure unintelligible. Why would anyone object to God’s justice if His will is regularly overruled? White could have shown that AK’s position dissolves the very objection Paul anticipates — but instead left that implication unstated, allowing AK to frame divine patience and desire as more compassionate, yet ultimately less biblical.
White’s language reflects a coherent Reformed framework — but one he often leaves implicit. His critiques of autonomy and man-centeredness, and his appeal to divine prerogative, make sense when understood through the doctrines of divine providence and aseity. But in debate, these concepts were undefined and underdeveloped. The following clarifications aim to reconstruct what White assumes, making explicit the theological foundation that shapes his objections.
One final point requiring clarification is White’s use of the term freedom. In cross-examination, he stated that man must have had “the ability to do otherwise,” a phrase that sounds like an affirmation of libertarian free will — the view that human choices are undetermined and that alternative possibilities always remain open. But this is not the Reformed understanding. Scripture teaches that apart from regeneration, man is not free in a morally neutral or autonomous sense; he is in bondage to sin (John 8:34; Romans 6:17). Freedom from sin refers to a transformation of the will wrought by grace — not a hypothetical ability to choose good or evil apart from divine enabling. When White fails to distinguish this from libertarian categories, his argument becomes muddled. AK exploits this ambiguity effectively, casting his own position as more internally consistent, even if theologically weaker. Properly framed, the debate is not between freedom and determinism, but between enslaved will and liberated will — the kind only God can create, according to His providential plan.
VII. The Need for a More Focused Debate
One challenge that became evident throughout the exchange is the breadth of the debate format. By asking whether Romans 9 supports Calvinism or not, the debate quickly expanded to include questions about divine freedom, libertarianism, human responsibility, total depravity, and more. In this sense, the debate may have been too broadly framed to allow for careful, focused exposition. A more productive format might have asked: What does Romans 9 actually teach — and how does Paul structure his argument from verses 6–24? Narrowing the topic to the text itself would have allowed for deeper clarity on key exegetical decisions rather than sweeping theological system-building.
To AK’s credit, he recognized that bringing in doctrines like total depravity would derail the debate’s focus. White, in contrast, often gestured toward broader Reformed themes that, while relevant, were too much to defend within the constraints of a single chapter-focused debate. Both debaters could have benefitted from a more defined scope that clarified what was, and wasn’t, up for debate in Romans 9.
VIII. Theological Consistency and the Golden Chain
This debate underscores the divide between an interpretation of Romans 9 that honors its theological, historical, and exegetical context, and one that tries to flatten it into a merely national or vocational argument. AK Richardson does not adequately engage Paul’s actual argument in Romans 9 or explain how it refutes the objections Paul anticipates. His reading is not incoherent within itself, but it fails to reckon with the rhetorical weight and theological depth of the passage. Rather than showing how Paul’s examples and objections support his claims, AK flattens Paul’s argument into a restatement of familiar covenantal patterns, thereby weakening the force of Paul’s reply to the charge of injustice. Dr. White’s approach, by contrast, integrates Romans 9 into the broader Pauline theology of sovereign grace, divine initiative, and particular redemption.
For a fuller analysis of Paul’s treatment of the remnant and the continuity of election in Romans 11, see our previous article: Branches, Remnants, and Mercy: Election in Romans 11.
The Council 