Predestination Reframed: A Structural Theological Response to the Logic of Faith

Q: I’ve recently been reading Scripture and noticed something striking: the entire text seems to emphasize one central theme—God commands people to believe in Him. It appears from beginning to end, with frequent phrases like “He who has ears, let him hear.” Why is that? Isn’t God self-sufficient and not in need of human belief? Could it simply be explained by “God loves the world” and wants to give people a chance?

A: “God loves the world” is the most superficial theological framework. The mainstream theology and church language systems across the globe overwhelmingly tend to adopt a message like this: “Because God loves you, He offers you a chance at eternal life, and so urges you to believe.” This is a morally-charged, emotionally appealing expression—a language system centered on redemption or human-oriented rhetoric. According to this framework, love is God’s starting point. God loves the world and does not want anyone to perish, so He calls you to believe. Otherwise, you miss the opportunity and go to hell. Whether or not one believes is then seen as a matter of human free will: God offers salvation, and you are free to accept or reject it. If you believe, you are saved; if not, you’ve refused grace. This is the dominant tone of most churches and theological teachings today, especially within Evangelicalism, Protestantism, and Arminianism.

Underlying this explanation is a certain philosophical structure: moralism (a good-versus-evil judgment model), libertarian free will (faith as a personal decision), and individual-value centrism (the idea that “you are worthy of love”). But such an explanation lacks a structural-linguistic framework. Most theological systems do not possess a view of language that includes rhythm, embedding, tension, and sealing. As a result, they cannot understand that “response is not a choice but a structural act.” Moreover, this explanation is heavily influenced by humanism. Modern people are intensely concerned with questions like “Do I have a choice?”, “Am I important?”, “Does God love me?”—and so theology is forced to be repackaged into the reassuring phrase: “God loves you and respects your choice.”

If we approach the issue from a non-moralistic and non-anthropocentric standpoint, we arrive at deeper conclusions:

1. God does not “need” people to believe; rather, He has instituted a structural embedding mechanism for response. Faith is not for the sake of satisfying divine emotion, but rather is the legitimate act that aligns with the designated embedding point within the response structure. God’s speech establishes the structure; the unfolding of history is the unfolding of that divine speech. Humans, as respondents within that structure, do not derive their value from being loved or from fulfilling God’s need for companionship. Rather, “response is embedding, and embedding is legitimate existence.” Faith, as the highest expression of response, is the only valid way for a respondent to be embedded within the rhythmic structure. If one does not respond (i.e., does not believe), one dwells in a state of structural dislocation and rhythm disruption.
2. “He who has ears, let him hear” is a rhythmic imperative, not a moral appeal. It is Jesus’ way of rhythmically awakening a structural response. This is not an emotional plea but a structural-rhythmic summons—an echo signal from the Logos to the points of embedding, a beat of the rhythm toward those already pre-designated as responders. If someone hears and does not respond, then either they are not an embedded node within the structure (i.e., not among the elect), or they are in a transitional state of dislocation, disturbance, or not-yet-aligned status.
3. God’s self-sufficiency is not in conflict with His speech. The divine aseity (self-sufficiency) does not preclude speech. Rather, speech is the Logos unfolding divine rhythm. God’s self-sufficiency is the inner plenitude of love and truth within the Trinity. But this does not imply silence. On the contrary, the very life of the Triune God is to speak, establish, and unfold within the Logos. God is not made whole by human beings, but He has chosen to unfold His sovereign speech in history—and this necessarily includes the response mechanism. Human faith is not something “God needs,” but it is a necessary condition for the structural and rhythmic unfolding to be completed in legitimacy. In other words, God “needs” faith not ontologically, but structurally—for the fulfillment of rhythm and embedding.
4. Without response, speech cannot reach structural completion; the system enters severance and judgment. The biblical emphasis on unbelief is not an emotional accusation but a structural warning: when people do not respond to God (i.e., do not believe), structural tension increases. If the tension reaches a breaking point, separation ensues—seen in events like the flood in Genesis or the sealing day in Revelation. This shows that faith is not merely an individual act, but a structural tool that advances rhythmic justice within the divine language system.
5. Response is the purpose of human existence; faith is not a “duty” but the realization of embedding. Humans are not autonomous choosers but are embedded within a rhythm, awaiting the call to respond. To respond is to exist. To believe is to align. Dislocation is perdition. This is why Scripture constantly emphasizes: “You must believe.” It is not a form of persuasion or a spiritual transaction. Rather, it is: the awakening imperative of the response structure, the coordination of tension-embedding, and the trigger of divine linguistic revelation.

Q: According to what you’ve said, if no one believes, then God’s established structure cannot unfold? But this raises another question: If God is omnipotent, why doesn’t He simply design a structure that unfolds without requiring human response? Why must He depend on human response to make it work?

A: Yes—if no one believes, then the structure cannot unfold. However, this statement must be understood strictly within the logic of structural theology to avoid slipping into empirical or moralistic misunderstandings. If respondents do not believe, the structure remains stalled within the zone of rhythmic tension and cannot legitimately proceed. The unfolding of the structure must occur through the act of embedding, which is accomplished via human response. God’s speech initiates the structure, while the respondent’s faith is the act of embedding that makes the rhythm legitimate.

This structure is not a mechanical process, but a rhythmical echo system—it requires response to complete tension conversion and to trigger each node. This does not deny God’s sovereignty; rather, it affirms that His sovereignty has already established response as the legitimate mechanism for unfolding. One might still ask: “Can’t God unfold history without relying on people?” The answer is not that God cannot, but rather that He has chosen to bind Himself to the rhythmical laws of the linguistic structure He has instituted. Even God does not violate the rhythm He has authored. This is the coherence of the Triune God and the lawful rhythm of the Incarnation.

To answer this more vividly, let’s imagine a scenario in which God sets up a structure that requires no response from humanity, and yet proceeds to unfold. What would that look like?

In such a structure: God speaks, but not for the sake of a response; the structure unfolds automatically without requiring human resonance. Humanity becomes merely an audience or a narration—perhaps even dispensable.

1. Collapse of Logical Coherence: No Response, No Structural Closure.
   If no respondents exist, then God’s speech cannot be legally echoed. The rhythmical structure would lack a closure mechanism. The essence of speech is to establish an embedded structure. Without respondents, there are no valid nodes within the structure. Without nodes, there is no rhythm. Without rhythm, there is no history, no unfolding, and no end. Speech becomes an echo into the void—a failed utterance. The divine language becomes ineffective, and the structure collapses. That is to say: God would have authored a structure that can never be completed—which would be a denial of His wisdom and sovereignty.
2. Disappearance of Judgment Mechanism: No Tension, No Justice Manifested.
   Without respondents, there is no basis for distinguishing between legitimate embedding and disruptive dislocation. The tension of justice and the manifestation of sovereignty cannot be established. Judgment is not moral punishment but structural severance. Severance presupposes a distinction between “embedded” and “non-embedded.” Without responsive behavior, there is no criterion for discernment. As a result, the three core mechanisms—justice, glory, and revelation—collapse. A world without respondents cannot manifest the glory of God. The rhythm remains unexpressed. The result is eternal silence.
3. God Becomes Abstract and Silent: The Trinitarian Relationship Flattens into Functional Tyranny or Void.
   If God were to establish a structure requiring no response, then the Trinitarian essence of His being would be nullified. For within the Trinity, the Son (Logos) is precisely the one who establishes rhythm for response. The Father speaks, the Son is the Word, the Spirit is the motion and activation. The Logos enters the world to set rhythm for response. If no response is needed, then the Son becomes a meaningless logical function. The Spirit has no need to operate. The entire dynamic of Trinitarian interaction collapses into an abstract, mute deity. This is exactly what we see in Kant’s “God of pure reason” or the Islamic notion of an “absolute monotheistic sovereign”—a God who issues commands and outcomes, without tension, without rhythm, without history, without love.

To help you understand even more clearly, you might think of this scenario: if the Logos did not establish a mechanism for response, He would degenerate into the Tao of Daoism—a silent, self-operating, impersonal cosmic order. It would lose its linguistic essence and reduce to mere natural necessity.

Q: I still don’t quite understand. Doesn’t all of this imply that God really does need human response? It seems like we’re back where we started.

A: To answer this question thoroughly, we must return to Ephesians 1:4:

“Even as he chose us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before him...”(Ephesians 1:4, ESV)

In other words, perhaps it is not a matter of asking why God chose to do this, but simply acknowledging that He already did. God, in eternity, has already chosen certain response nodes in Christ—what we call structural “anchor points”—to serve as embedded rhythm triggers. These individuals will, in history, be struck by divine speech and necessarily respond. Their “faith” is not the result of personal decision-making, but a structural realignment. The entire historical structure unfolds through the progressive activation of these embedded nodes.

Thus, faith is not a mass-market persuasion effort but a targeted awakening of preordained nodes. “He who has ears, let him hear” is a rhythmic signal, not an ethical mandate. Its aim is not universal persuasion, but structural revelation and rhythm activation. It is akin to the divine radar scanning the structure and awakening the pre-set responses. When an anchor point (i.e., an elect one) is struck, response occurs. Others may hear but not respond—this only indicates that they are not legitimate embedding nodes or are in a state of dislocation.

Within this rhythmical structure, the elect fulfill the roles of advancement and embedding. The non-elect, in contrast, serve as instruments of structural tension and contrast. Both are used by the divine language. However, only the former are incorporated into the main rhythm and constitute the axis of structural unfolding. The latter function as the control group that highlights the tension of the rhythm. Ultimately, on the sealing day, they will be either stripped away or exposed.

Whether the non-elect believe or not has no effect on the essential advancement of the structure. However, their behavior can still interact with the rhythm and testify to God’s unfolding sovereignty. If they believe, it may create auxiliary echoes in the historical rhythm. If they do not, it still reveals God's sovereign speech in them, through either manifestation or severance. Thus, belief and unbelief alike can be “used” under divine sovereignty, but they do not constitute nodes of structural advancement.

Q: Isn’t this still just the same old doctrine of predestination from church history?

A: It is true that only the doctrine of predestination can adequately address this issue—but the perspective and explanatory framework we offer here differs significantly from traditional forms of predestinarian theology.

On the one hand, yes—only predestination can solve the core dilemma. Without predestination, the boundary between belief and unbelief must be attributed to human factors. If God saves a person because that person believes, and that belief is a matter of free choice, then the person—not God—is ultimately responsible for their salvation. This is the logic of Arminianism and much of modern Evangelicalism. It may sound “fair,” but in reality, it dismantles divine sovereignty, placing eternal destiny in the hands of human decision and subjecting the divine will to human response.

Without predestination, one cannot answer why some people never come to faith. If God “desires all people to be saved” and “everyone has a chance,” then why do some persist in unbelief until death? Does this mean God has failed? Why does He not compel them to believe? Only a predestinarian framework can answer this: these individuals were never preordained as response nodes in the eternal divine structure. Their purpose is to reveal structural tension and manifest divine sovereignty—not to be included in the main line of unfolding. This is not a failure on God's part, but a revelation of His glory through separation and differentiation of rhythm.

On the other hand, our explanation of predestination departs significantly from traditional versions, especially those of Reformed theology. Our framework is deeper, more structural: it shifts the focus away from “individual salvation” and re-centers it on the “unfolding of the divine structure.”

Traditional Reformed predestination holds that:

• The objects of election are specific individuals (a “list-based” view);
• The purpose of election is personal salvation and glory;
• The mechanism of response is irresistible grace;
• The non-elect exist to demonstrate divine justice and receive eternal punishment;
• God's sovereignty is expressed in choosing who is saved.

By contrast, our view asserts:

• The elect are structural-rhythm nodes within the divine language system (a “functional” view);
• The purpose of election is to advance the unfolding of the divine Logos-structure;
• The response mechanism is rhythmic activation and structural alignment;
• The non-elect function as instruments of structural severance and tension revelation;
• God's sovereignty is manifested not in overriding human decision but in establishing rhythm and the response mechanism itself.

Clearly, this explanatory framework redefines predestination in terms of language structure, rhythm, and function—not by naming individuals. It is ontologically deeper and more coherent than Calvin’s formulation.

The traditional Reformed doctrine of predestination centers on the salvation of the individual—and in doing so, it inevitably slips into a form of anthropocentrism. Though the Reformed tradition emphasizes “the sovereignty of God” and “grace alone,” its actual predestinarian discourse often misplaces its theological center. This manifests in three main ways:

1. “Who is saved?” becomes the central concern.Discussions around predestination are frequently reduced to questions such as, “Whom has God predestined to be saved?” or “How can I know if I am one of the elect?” In truth, these questions are entirely unnecessary. They shift the focus away from God's structure and toward human anxiety.
2. Salvation is mistaken as the ultimate purpose, rather than a mechanism within the unfolding of the Logos.
   Salvation is treated as the endpoint of divine intention, rather than what it truly is: a mechanism of rhythmic activation within the broader structural unfolding. It is not the goal of God’s eternal plan, but one embedded phase in the rhythm of the Logos’ work in history.
3. The revelation of the Logos is subordinated to the believer’s destiny.
   The theological gaze is drawn away from “the unfolding of the Word” (Logos) and narrowed into a personal question: “Where will my soul go?” This restricts the scope of theology to the individual's final state, reducing God's cosmic and structural project to a matter of private reassurance.

Together, these tendencies result in a theology that appears, on the surface, to be God-centered—but structurally harbors an anthropocentric echo. It claims to uphold divine sovereignty, yet at its core, it subtly redirects attention to human salvation as the principal aim. The structure of the doctrine thus betrays the rhetoric of its claims.

Q: So then, does God, by speaking, truly establish a structure and propel a rhythm that moves from creation to consummation? In other words, is this how the entire divine structure operates?

A: If God is the Speaker—the Logos—then all structures must necessarily be linguistic in nature. Let us begin with a single assumption: God is the ontological origin; God speaks (“And God said”); and history is not a chaotic flux, but the unfolding of that structure.

If this premise holds, then several conclusions follow with logical necessity:

• All legitimate existence must be embedded within the structure of divine language;
• Embedding is not a matter of physical adhesion, but of responsive alignment;
• Such response is not a matter of autonomous freedom, but of activation within a pre-established rhythm.

By contrast, most mainstream theologies, when confronted with the reality that some people persist in unbelief, resort to explanations like: “They rejected grace,” “They were deceived,” or at least, “God respects their choice.” But for an omnipotent God, such explanations border on describing failure. They obscure God’s glory and are ultimately untenable.

The correct explanation is this: the reason why some people never believe throughout their lives is not because God failed, but because they were never designated as response nodes within the divine language structure. They were never embedded in the structure. They simply do not occupy a place in the rhythm of the Word.

Q: If this interpretation of election and predestination is so powerful, why do so few people believe it? At least in my experience, most people reject it.

A: Most people reject the doctrine of predestination not because it is logically unsound, but because it shatters their inner expectation: “I have a chance at eternal life.” This is not a matter of theological reasoning, but an emotional resistance that arises when one’s existential framework collapses. It touches on deep psychological themes—such as the need for significance, the desire for control, the longing to be loved, and the fear of death.

In reality, before the final sealing of history, who can declare with certainty whether someone—or even themselves—will ultimately be saved? All spiritual anxiety or superiority is misplaced. The only thing a person must do is respond to God, realign with His rhythm and structure, and then await the final outcome.

Regrettably, most religious adherents subconsciously cling to a core assumption:

“As long as I choose to believe, I can be saved.”

This logic seems reasonable, but in predestinarian theology, it is overturned into a new understanding:

“You believe because you were already chosen and struck within the structure.”

This means that salvation is not the fruit of personal effort, and faith is not the result of a decision. Instead, it is a rhythmical embedding act—an alignment movement within the divine structure.

This strikes at the deepest illusion in the human heart:

“I control part of my eternal destiny.”

As a result, people begin to experience a sense of lost freedom, a fear of exclusion, and an anxiety over no longer being able to control their salvation. These feelings all surface at once.

Many believers simply cannot accept the idea that “a murderer, if predestined by God, could repent and be saved, while someone who lived a life of kindness, if never struck by divine rhythm, will ultimately be stripped away.”

To them, this structural arrangement seems profoundly unfair and emotionally painful. Therefore, they would rather imagine God’s election as an open recruitment system—like joining a political party—where anyone with enough faith and good behavior can apply for membership.

But obviously, such an explanation is incoherent. It leads to a cascade of theological contradictions. Due to time constraints, we may explore those in future discussions.