James Quiggle’s Ordo Salutis: A Theological Appraisal

J. Neil Daniels 

Introduction

Theology has never been content simply to affirm that God saves sinners. From Augustine’s careful reflections on grace, through the medieval scholastics, and down to the Reformers and their successors, the church has pressed hard into the question of how salvation unfolds—what is the inner logic of God’s eternal decrees and their historical execution. The technical phrase ordo salutis emerged to give structure to these discussions, a shorthand for the logical order of divine actions leading to human salvation. Debates about the ordo have been especially intense within the Reformed tradition, where precision about God’s sovereignty and man’s responsibility has always been cherished.

James Quiggle’s 270-page 2024 volume Ordo Salutis: The Way of Salvation is an ambitious attempt not only to revisit the traditional categories of supralapsarianism, infralapsarianism, and sublapsarianism, but also to move beyond them by articulating what he regards as a more biblically faithful model. His treatment on pages 31–37 in particular is significant because here he lays out both his critique of the inherited views and his constructive proposal. Quiggle does not write as one interested in speculative syllogisms for their own sake. He is concerned that any scheme which makes God the author of sin or portrays Him as unjust must be rejected outright. His model aims to safeguard both divine sovereignty and divine righteousness, while also clarifying the relation between Christ’s atonement and its application.

This essay will examine Quiggle’s view in detail, emphasizing the positive contribution he makes to the longstanding discussion. While many theologians have treated lapsarianism as little more than an intellectual puzzle with no real bearing on the Christian life, Quiggle’s great strength is his insistence that these debates bear directly on the believer’s understanding of God’s character, the meaning of the cross, and the nature of divine mercy.

The Historical Context of Lapsarianism

To appreciate Quiggle’s contribution one must first recall the background of the lapsarian debates. The term itself comes from the Latin lapsus, meaning “fall,” and refers to the ordering of God’s decrees in relation to humanity’s lapse into sin. The three main views—supra, infra, and sublapsarianism—developed gradually out of medieval reflections on predestination and crystallized during the Reformation era.

Supralapsarianism, associated in particular with Theodore Beza (1519–1605), Calvin’s successor at Geneva, teaches that God decreed election and reprobation logically prior to decreeing the fall. In this model, God first determined the eternal destiny of each person, then decreed to create, then decreed the fall as the means by which those destinies would be worked out. The logical consequence is that God, at least in the order of decree, condemns human beings to eternal perdition before considering them as fallen sinners. This was not Beza’s intention—he wished to underscore the gratuity of grace and prevent any suggestion that man contributes to salvation—but the scheme carries disturbing implications.

Infralapsarianism, by contrast, places the decree of election after the decree permitting the fall. Thus God first decrees to create, then to allow sin, and only then to elect some sinners to salvation while leaving others in their rebellion. This avoids the charge that God condemns the innocent, and it reflects the perspective of Paul in Romans 9, where the “lump” from which God makes vessels of honor and dishonor is already fallen clay. It was this view that received the official stamp of approval at the Synod of Dort (1618–1619), the great Reformed council convened to answer Arminianism.

Sublapsarianism introduces a subtle variation, placing the decree to provide a Redeemer before the decree of election. Here, Christ is decreed for all humanity prior to the determination of who will be saved. This allows for a broader sense in which Christ’s work extends temporal benefits to all, even if its eternal benefits are applied only to the elect. Historically, this view never gained the same traction as infra or supra, but it has remained a live option, especially for those concerned to maintain the universal sufficiency of Christ’s death.

Quiggle rehearses these positions with admirable clarity, but he does not leave them as abstract options on a menu. He subjects each to the test of Scripture and of theological coherence with God’s revealed character.

Quiggle’s Critique of Supralapsarianism

Quiggle’s most vigorous criticism is directed at supralapsarianism. He insists that this view, however well-intentioned, effectively portrays God as condemning righteous creatures to eternal damnation, since in the order of decrees they are not yet considered fallen. His language is deliberately sharp: supralapsarianism makes God “the culpable (criminally responsible) author of man’s sin” and reduces Him to “an arbitrary unrighteous monster.”¹ Strong words, but not without historical precedent. Gottschalk of Orbais, who articulated a form of double predestination in the ninth century, was condemned by multiple synods, precisely because his teaching made God appear unjust.

Quiggle’s biblical protest is weighty. Genesis 18:25, “Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?”, sits uneasily with a system in which God decrees damnation before sin. Moreover, Scripture consistently portrays God as sparing the innocent and condemning only the guilty. A concordance search on “innocent,” as Quiggle notes, will demonstrate this pattern repeatedly. To condemn those not yet guilty would be a radical departure from biblical justice.

He further observes that supralapsarianism requires God to decree Adam’s sin, not merely to permit it. In this way, God becomes the ultimate cause of evil, which is impossible given God’s absolute holiness (Hab. 1:13; Jas. 1:13). Here Quiggle echoes centuries of orthodox teaching: God foreordains without creating sin, and He governs without being the source of evil. To collapse this distinction is to undermine the very character of God.

What is striking about Quiggle’s critique is its pastoral tone. He does not merely point out logical inconsistencies, but insists that supralapsarianism distorts the believer’s view of God. A God who arbitrarily damns the innocent cannot be worshiped with confidence or love. Such a deity would inspire fear and resentment, not adoration. In other words, this is not a harmless speculative model but one with profound spiritual consequences.

The Strengths of Infralapsarianism

By contrast, Quiggle finds the infralapsarian model much more faithful to Scripture. Here, election occurs after the fall, so that all humanity is considered guilty before God’s choice is made. This ensures that none are condemned unjustly, and it preserves Adam’s responsibility for sin.

Quiggle takes care to explain the nature of foreordination. God does not fabricate human choices ex nihilo; rather, He effectuates freely made choices. Adam’s decision to sin was his own, though foreordained in the sense that God permitted it from among the possible choices Adam could make. Quiggle suggests—speculatively, but thoughtfully—that perhaps all of Adam’s possible choices might have involved sin, but even then God did not impose sin upon him. God cannot create what He does not possess, and since God has no sin, He cannot be its author.

This distinction between foreordination and causation is crucial. Many critics of Reformed theology have accused it of making God the author of evil, but Quiggle demonstrates how foreordination is compatible with human freedom (understood not as libertarian autonomy but as real moral agency). God’s sovereignty and man’s responsibility are not in competition but operate at different levels. Adam is guilty for his choice; God is sovereign in permitting it.

Infralapsarianism therefore secures both divine justice and divine sovereignty. God elects sinners to salvation, leaving others in their chosen rebellion. As Quiggle summarizes: “In this view man is the author of his sin and eternal punishment, God is the author of eternal salvation.”² This neat antithesis captures the heart of Reformed soteriology and guards against both Pelagian self-reliance and supralapsarian fatalism.

The Sublapsarian Variation

Although less prominent, Quiggle also discusses the sublapsarian model, where the decree to provide a Redeemer precedes the decree of election. The advantage here is that Christ’s work is framed in a more universal sense: a Redeemer is decreed for all humanity before God specifies which sinners will be saved. This allows for the temporal benefits of Christ’s work to extend to all, while still reserving eternal salvation for the elect.

Quiggle is fair in his assessment, noting that sublapsarianism captures something important about the generosity of God’s provision. Yet he also warns that it can open the door to conditionalism, where non-elect persons might hypothetically be saved by their own faith apart from God’s gift. This is a subtle but real danger, for it risks undermining the Pauline insistence that faith itself is a gift of grace (Eph. 2:8–9).

Quiggle’s Constructive Proposal

After surveying and critiquing these views, Quiggle sets forth his own lapsarian scheme. What is most remarkable is not its radical novelty but its careful integration of biblical emphases. His order begins with God’s ultimate purpose: to manifest His glory. This is the telos of creation and redemption alike. From this purpose flows the decision to create a universe with sentient creatures capable of apprehending and reflecting God’s glory.

From here, Quiggle describes God’s omniscient consideration of all possible agents, events, and outcomes, and His decree to effectuate those which would accomplish His purpose. In other words, God does not decree arbitrarily but with perfect wisdom and foresight, choosing from among possibilities to realize the particular history we inhabit.

The critical moment comes when Quiggle places the decree of propitiation prior to the decree of election. God decrees the satisfaction of His justice through Christ’s sacrifice before He decrees which sinners will benefit from it. This ensures that the atonement is not collapsed into election. Atonement, he insists, is the legal satisfaction of God’s justice against sin; redemption is the application of that satisfaction to the elect. The distinction is subtle but vital.

This ordering allows Quiggle to affirm both the universal sufficiency of Christ’s work and the particular efficacy of election. Christ’s propitiation justifies God in bestowing both temporal and eternal benefits as He wills. Temporal blessings—rain, sunshine, the restraint of evil, cultural goods—are genuinely purchased by Christ’s death and given to all humanity. Eternal salvation, however, is reserved for the elect, to whom God gives the gift of grace-faith-salvation.³

The order continues: God decrees to leave some sinners as they are (reprobation understood not as an active decree of damnation but as a just non-intervention), to give others the gift of election, to send the Spirit to apply redemption, and to predestine the elect to conformity with Christ. Finally comes the act of creation itself, the historical unfolding of these eternal decrees.

What emerges is a model that avoids the injustices of supralapsarianism, the potential ambiguities of sublapsarianism, and even the possible narrowing of infralapsarianism. It gives due weight to God’s justice (sin must be punished), His mercy (some are chosen to salvation), and His generosity (temporal blessings are purchased for all). Above all, it anchors everything in the purpose of God’s glory.

The Distinction Between Propitiation and Redemption

Perhaps Quiggle’s most significant theological contribution is his insistence that atonement/propitiation is not identical with redemption. Too often, Reformed discussions have blurred this line, treating Christ’s death as redemption in itself rather than as the legal basis for redemption. Quiggle clarifies: propitiation is Christ’s satisfaction of God’s justice, accomplished once for all at the cross (2 Cor. 5:21). Redemption, by contrast, is the Spirit’s application of that propitiation to the elect in time.

This distinction has several important consequences. First, it allows us to say with full biblical confidence that Christ’s death was sufficient for all, without lapsing into universalism. The sufficiency is real because propitiation is complete and objective; the limitation lies in God’s sovereign application. Second, it underscores the reality of common grace. Temporal blessings are not merely arbitrary gifts but the fruit of Christ’s work, distributed according to God’s will. Third, it prevents the charge that Reformed theology diminishes the scope of the cross. Quiggle can affirm both the particularity of salvation and the universality of Christ’s accomplishment, each in its proper sphere.

Historically, this clarification resonates with the teaching of the Synod of Dort, which declared that Christ’s death is “abundantly sufficient to expiate the sins of the whole world” yet efficacious only for the elect.⁴ But Quiggle presses the logic further, showing how this sufficiency actually functions in the divine decrees. It is not an abstract statement but an integral part of God’s ordering of salvation.

Reprobation Reconsidered

Another strength of Quiggle’s model is his treatment of reprobation. He flatly denies that Scripture teaches an election to reprobation. Rather, every human being is conditionally reprobate by birth, in Adam, until salvation intervenes. Death confirms this state, but until then the gospel call remains genuinely open. Hebrews 9:27—“it is appointed for man to die once, and after that comes judgment”—marks the terminus.

This approach avoids the harshness often associated with supralapsarian double predestination. God does not actively decree damnation; He simply leaves sinners to their chosen state unless grace intervenes. The emphasis falls not on God’s arbitrary will but on man’s culpable rebellion. This is both more biblical and more pastorally sound. It allows the preacher to declare, without hesitation, that Christ’s death is sufficient for all who hear, while still affirming that only those elected will respond in faith.

The Pastoral Implications

Quiggle’s model is not a mere scholastic exercise. It carries real pastoral weight. Consider the troubled believer who fears that God is capricious or unjust. Supralapsarianism may intensify such fears, portraying God as one who condemns without cause. Quiggle’s view reassures: God condemns only the guilty, saves by sheer mercy, and does so on the basis of a universally sufficient atonement. His justice and mercy are equally displayed, and His glory is the ultimate aim.

Moreover, Quiggle’s emphasis on the distinction between propitiation and redemption equips pastors to preach the cross with greater richness. They can proclaim the universal sufficiency of Christ’s death without hesitation, offering the gospel freely to all, while still resting in the certainty that God’s elect will surely be saved. This guards against both hyper-Calvinism (which restricts the free offer) and Arminianism (which makes salvation dependent on man’s initiative).

Conclusion

James Quiggle’s treatment of the ordo salutis represents a valuable contribution to Reformed theology. By carefully critiquing the traditional lapsarian models and offering a revised order of decrees, he manages to preserve the central concerns of the tradition—God’s sovereignty, human responsibility, the gratuity of grace—while avoiding the pitfalls that have long troubled the debate. His insistence that propitiation precedes election, and his distinction between atonement and redemption, sharpen the contours of Reformed soteriology and provide pastors with a more robust framework for preaching the gospel.

In the end, Quiggle’s model may not settle all debates—indeed, as he himself concedes, no list of decrees can fully capture the mystery of God’s eternal mind. But it does offer a rational and biblical account that magnifies God’s glory, safeguards His justice, and deepens our understanding of the cross. And it is worth remembering that this section of his work is only part of a much larger vision: Quiggle sets out, across thirteen chapters, to trace salvation from eternity to eternity—from God’s pre-creation purpose, through His foreordination of history, the application of redemption in the believer’s life, and finally to the endless conscious fellowship of the redeemed in God’s presence.⁵ Seen in that fuller light, the order of decrees is not an isolated puzzle but the opening movement in the grand symphony of God’s saving work.

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Endnotes

1. James Quiggle, Ordo Salutis: The Way of Salvation (Amazon KDP, 2024), 32.
2. Ibid., 34.
3. Ibid., 36.
4. Canons of Dort, Second Head of Doctrine, Article 3.
5. Quiggle, Ordo Salutis, 14–15.