Of Toughest Questions: Infant Salvation

Easy or mundane thoughts have no place in my mind these days. When they do arise out of chance or necessity (Did the Capitals win tonight? When is that electric bill due?), I find them awkward and sometimes unnerving. Strangely, it is the deep, grave thoughts that usually we fend off that seem most fitting fodder for my mind. To think of lesser things almost seems a waste or even a betrayal of the situation at hand. I realize that to some extent that is a dangerous idea to follow and so fight against it, because I know that life is partially comprised of the mundane and inextricably so but I must weigh that against the counter that death cannot be taken too seriously.

How much do funerals cost? Cremation versus burial. The theological implications of such. My own personal reactions to each. What is pain? Where do I draw the line between saving my child from pain and my responsibility to care for myself for my husband and possible future children--c-section versus a more natural birth? Intervention versus non-intervention? At what point is intervention crossing the line into grasping for control over life that isn't ours to have? And perhaps the most significant question of them all--the salvation of a child that dies in infancy.

This last one is the one that I've been wrestling with the most I think. Everywhere I go I hear fellow Christians speak to me of the comfort in knowing that even if this baby does die quickly that I will see him in heaven again someday.

The author of the book I'm reading, Angie Smith, is married to the lead singer of Selah, the Christian musical group. They wrote a song of the same name as the book I'm reading--"I Will Carry You." It's a beautiful song, and part of me longs to take comfort in its sweet sadness and grave joy. Go read the words. If you're up for it, watch this heart-wrenchingly beautiful video tribute to Audrey, the daughter about whom the song was written while you listen to the words:



Don't you want to believe what this songs says in the second verse? I do. I want so much to believe that if this baby dies, he or she will be with God. What a joy that would be.

But that is the same hope I would have for any of my children. And as with any other child that I might have, I need to ask myself the question of whether or not the Bible has given me such a hope to stand on.

I've been reading and thinking on it now for some time. And though it's not the first time I've asked myself what I believe in this area, it is the first time that I've asked it in which the answer had any real impact on how I think and live. What I've found in my research thus far has been profoundly unsettling. That is, I've found that men whose serious thoughts I generally trust to a degree have rather irresponsible reasons for believing as they do.

I suppose I should back up a bit and say that for the most part I find that churches teach that all who die in infancy go to heaven. I was actually a little surprised at how widely this view is held despite otherwise significantly different systems of thought. It seems that while Catholics, Lutherans, Calvinists, and Arminians all have different views on exactly how salvation is achieved, they all seem to agree that babies somehow automatically get a pass, whether in their actual doctrinal statements or in the general belief of their congregations and teachers.

This has never seemed that simple a question to me. For when I look at Scripture, I find no explicit statement defending such a belief, and when I look to scholars to help me understand why they believe such, inevitably I find that at some level they all in part believe this because the idea that infants might go to hell is inconsistent with what they understand as a good God. Even C. H. Spurgeon, generally known for his responsible though not expository preaching, relies heavily on this argument in a sermon on infant salvation. I expect this kind of teaching from guys like Rob Bell but not Spurgeon and not Calvin whom he claims as saying the same. Where is the responsible scholarship? We do not define what is good and then hold God accountable to some external standard; we define what good is by what God does. When we start imposing our own standards on God, we begin to undermine our entire system of belief. This is no small matter. And I am unwilling to walk that road, regardless of what great men may have trod it before me.

I fear that last bit sounded prideful. After all, who am I to judge these men who so devoted their lives to the study of theology? I must tell you, however, that it gives me no great pleasure to be thus standing on the outside looking in at the company of their knowledge and wisdom. I wish that I could enter whole-heartedly into fellowship with their thoughts on this. But I can't. Not yet. And not ever in that particular argument that says a good god would not send children to hell.

My search for answers is not over, however; and perhaps soon I will be able to join with them in concluding that all who die in infancy do go to heaven, but until I am so compelled by the reading of plain scripture, I remain feeling slightly alienated from them and from any who would give such comfort to me.

Fortunately, in the meantime, I am not floundering in hopelessness. My commitment to calling what God does good, regardless of what it is, means that I can trust Him still. I hope with this child as I would with any that He might be chosen of God to receive salvation. The only difference is that I may not have the opportunity to see it happen.