The Delusion of Divine Autonomy part 2

Justin Reed
May 9
5 min read

Just in case you missed Part One, allow me a brief moment to catch you up. We spoke plainly—though gently—about the danger of treating faith as something we produce rather than something we receive. We traced the modern obsession with personal autonomy, the cultural doctrine that tells us we are self-made, self-defining, and ultimately self-saving. And we saw how even within the Church, that same spirit has dressed itself in religious language, creating a gospel that sounds like grace but quietly centers the self.

We called it what it is: not just confusion, but delusion. Not just a philosophical drift, but a spiritual disease. A gospel that puts man at the center is no gospel at all.

And now we must speak more clearly.

Because the lie has gone on long enough…

If you found your way here after our first conversation, then I thank you for staying with me—for not fleeing from the weight of truth. But I must tell you, that was only the introduction. And now, if I may, we must speak not only more clearly, but more urgently.

The lie has gone on long enough.

It began, as all soul-destroying lies do, in the Garden—offered not with a shout, but with a whisper: “You will not surely die. You will be like God.” It was not simply a temptation to rebel. It was an invitation to replace. To enthrone the self where only God belongs. To write the rules, to shape reality, to declare independence from the very breath that gives us life.

That lie is still here. Only now, it’s woven into sermons and schoolbooks, therapy sessions and social media feeds. It wears designer clothes and carries a study Bible. It smiles, but it devours. And it is time—past time—that we stop calling it harmless and start calling it what it is: sin.

Let’s be plain. Autonomy—the idea that I am my own, that I determine my identity, that I initiate my salvation, that I write my truth—is not simply a cultural fad. It is the fundamental rejection of the Creator-creature relationship. It is not a soft deviation. It is cosmic treason. It is Genesis 3 with polish. It is the old poison in a new bottle, and far too many have drunk it with a grin.

And here is the tragedy: it has not only infiltrated the world, it has seeped into the Church. We do not merely hear it in the language of the world—“Be true to yourself,” “Live your truth,” “You are enough.” We hear it in pulpits, softly wrapped in spiritual phrases:

“God has done His part. Now you must do yours.”

“Salvation is available—if you’ll activate it with your faith.”

“Jesus is knocking, but He can’t come in unless you open the door.”

We have turned grace into an offer. The cross into a coupon. Faith into a product of willpower. And the God who saves into a helpless suitor, wringing His hands while waiting for us to decide. What is this if not idolatry with a Christian accent?

My beloved listener, this is not just error. It is blasphemy.

When we believe that our choice makes the decisive difference in salvation, we are saying that Christ’s death was insufficient. That divine mercy must bow before the throne of human will. That grace is not grace, but a system of exchange.

Let us be honest: we like autonomy because it flatters us. It allows us to be the protagonist of our own story, the author of our own faith, the architect of our own destiny. It feels empowering. But that empowerment is a lie, and it leads not to freedom, but to slavery. For if I am the one who must sustain my faith, then I must never falter. If I begin it, I must finish it. If I choose it, I must protect it. And when doubt comes, when failure strikes, when sin drags me into the dust—I am left with only one conclusion: I have undone the gospel by my own weakness.

This, I say again, is not grace. It is anxiety with a halo.

The doctrines of grace, on the other hand, are not a theological system to be admired from a distance. They are the rescue rope tied to the ankles of drowning men. They remind us that we were not slightly sick in sin—we were stone dead. That God did not wait for our invitation—He spoke life into our grave. That Jesus did not make salvation possible—He made it certain for His people. That the Spirit did not knock politely—He kicked down the door of our rebellion and made our hearts beat with new life. That the perseverance of the saints is not the result of strong saints, but of a faithful Savior.

And this is why the lie of autonomy must be killed. Not coddled. Not debated endlessly. Killed.

Because as long as it lives—whether in your mind, your preaching, or your discipleship—grace is not what’s being proclaimed. Works are. Effort is. Man is. And if man is the message, then Christ is no longer the center. He is the side note.

So let’s speak frankly about the world we live in. This worship of self-lordship has become a religion. It has creeds, rituals, and commandments. It tells children to decide their own gender. It tells couples to define their own truth. It tells sinners to look inward for salvation. It tells churches to soften doctrine in the name of inclusion. It tells preachers to encourage rather than exhort. And it tells every human heart, in a thousand ways, “You are god enough.”

But it is a false gospel. And a false gospel saves no one.

It is not freedom to belong to yourself. It is despair in disguise. And until the Church stops catering to it, accommodating it, or worst of all, preaching it—we will continue to produce converts to autonomy and not to Christ.

Let me say this without apology: to preach a gospel that centers on human will, human decision, human activation—is not to preach grace at all. It is to echo the serpent’s voice in a sanctified tone: “You will be like God.”

But friend, there is another voice. The voice of the Shepherd. And it does not flatter. It does not bribe. It commands.

“If anyone would come after Me, let him deny himself, take up his cross, and follow Me.”

There is no autonomy in the call of Christ. There is death. And in that death, life.

So let us repent. Not just of outward sins, but of inward pride. Let us renounce not only the idols of the world, but the idol of the self. Let us stop decorating the lie and start denouncing it.

Let us stop whispering about sin when it comes dressed in cultural respectability. Let us start preaching again that man is not the center. Christ is. That grace is not up for negotiation. It is a gift. That salvation is not achieved. It is received. That we are not gods in the making. We are rebels, rescued by mercy.