I am a Reformed pastor. I love the Doctrines of Grace. I am comforted by the sovereignty of God and the beauty of His divine choosing. It fills me with awe that not a single molecule is outside of His control. I am moved by the truth that Christ knew exactly who He was dying for on the cross—fully aware of every flaw, sin, and weakness—and still chose to save.
Yet, despite my deep love for Reformed theology, I sometimes find it challenging to be around Reformed people. Here’s why: Reformed theology should produce in us a profound humility, a brokenness before the throne of grace that permeates every room we enter. Yet, too often, I see it breeding hostility, bitterness, and arrogance.
I believe this problem stems from a culture of criticism and fear that has been amplified by the internet. We’re living in a fishbowl, constantly watched and ready to be criticized by those who seem to take pleasure in tearing down others. This fear of making a theological misstep has turned many into rigid, judgmental figures—creating a “Reformed monster” that was never meant to exist.
I once heard that “Reformed theology should be like a warm blanket.” Yet, for many, it feels more like a cage. It’s heartbreaking to see a theology so rich in grace and sovereignty turn into a platform for pride and condescension. I’ve been in rooms where people have walked away saying, “That guy was so arrogant.” There’s a fine line between confidence in God’s Word and arrogance about one’s knowledge.
Many young Reformed believers mistake arrogance for confidence. They wear their theology as a badge of superiority rather than as a humbling reminder of God’s unmerited grace. If they’re challenged, they quickly dismiss others, convinced they know better. But let me be clear: You don’t know more. And quoting 1 Timothy 4 to justify arrogance is not only inappropriate; it’s dangerous. Your pride is not persecution. It’s just pride.
There is an obsession with the wrath and justice of God in certain circles that, while theologically accurate, is often delivered without compassion. My father once told me, “If you’re going to preach on the wrath of God, do it with a heart that breaks for the lost, not with a spirit that seems to take joy in their condemnation.” Too often, I’ve heard Reformed preachers speak of hell with a coldness that suggests they are glad people are going there. This should not be so. We must remember that we too were once children of wrath.
Desire to see men and women saved. Preach on sin, but spend just as much time on the hope, redemption, and grace of God. Let people see that your love for them is genuine and that your ultimate desire is their transformation through the Gospel of Jesus Christ—not just to win an argument or prove your theological prowess.
I firmly believe that most people aren’t turned off by Reformed theology itself but by the arrogance of those who claim to represent it. Too many have allowed head knowledge to dull heart transformation. As J.A. Medders once said, “We don’t need less Calvinism; we need real Calvinism—one that resides in our hearts rather than merely lodging in our heads.”
If you’re truly a Reformed pastor, your desire should be to see souls saved. That means investing in people’s lives, inviting them into your home, sharing meals, and walking with them through their struggles. It means exposing sin with a heart that longs for redemption, not condemnation. It means seeing people as souls to be loved, not projects to be fixed.
The Gospel is offensive enough on its own. It confronts sin, exposes darkness, and demands repentance. Your arrogance and condescension are not needed. Carry this message with humility and love, knowing that the only difference between you and the lost is the grace of God that saved you.
Hell would have been my home if not for the message of repentance and faith in Jesus Christ. This truth should keep us humble and broken before God, always aware of our need for grace. Don’t stand on a pedestal as if salvation makes you superior. It makes you a debtor to mercy.
Call men and women to repentance, but do it with compassion. Help them see that Jesus is better than anything this world offers. Let them feel your genuine love and concern for their souls. If they walk away, let it be because of the offense of the Cross, not because of your arrogance.
We can do better. Reformed theology, when properly understood, should humble us to the core. It should break our hearts for the lost and propel us to share the Gospel with urgency and love. Men like Ray Comfort expose sin but do so with a tenderness that leaves no doubt they long to see people saved. That should be all of us.
Now, let’s go out and win souls for the Kingdom. Carry the truth of Reformed theology with grace, humility, and love. Remember that Christ saves sinners—and we are among them, saved by grace alone.
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