I want to first head into Sproul’s position on Pelagius. The opening sources for this are
- The Pelagian Captivity of the Church (Sproul, Modern Reformation)
- The Pelagian Captivity of the Church (Sproul, Monergism)
- The Sufficiency of Grace (Sproul, Monergism)
1. Sproul’s basic historical story
In The Pelagian Captivity of the Church, Sproul presents the historical sequence roughly like this:
Pelagius
- denies original sin / human corruption
- says grace isn’t necessary for obedience
- Augustine responds with total dependence on grace
- a “middle ground” develops
Semi-Pelagianism
- Semi-Pelagianism says grace is necessary but human beings retain the ability to accept or reject it
- the Roman Catholic Church later embraces this position
- Arminianism represents essentially the same theological error today.
That’s very explicit in the article. Sproul says Semi-Pelagianism is the “middle ground” between Augustine and Pelagius and describes its “island of righteousness” from which fallen humans can choose to cooperate with grace.
And he repeats essentially the same framework in Willing to Believe. His chapter describes the issue as whether regeneration is monergistic or synergistic and says:
“All forms of semi-Pelagianism” involve synergism in regeneration.
Sproul’s historical framework is quite explicit:
“The classic issue between Augustinian theology and all forms of semi-Pelagianism” is whether regeneration precedes faith or whether a person first believes and is then regenerated. He says, “All forms of semi-Pelagianism assert some sort of synergism in the work of regeneration,” with God’s grace dependent upon human cooperation.
He then says that, according to Semi-Pelagianism, “regeneration is wrought by God, but only in those who have first responded in faith to him.”
[…]
And Sproul ultimately connects this directly to Arminianism, saying that those who believe salvation “ultimately depends on something that we do for ourselves” thereby affirm “a form of semi-Pelagianism.” So this wasn’t an incidental comment in one magazine article. It was part of Sproul’s larger theological framework.
R.C. SPROUL’S HISTORICAL FRAMEWORK:
Pelagianism 
Semi-Pelagianism Arminianism
R.C. Sproul’s treatment of Pelagianism and Semi-Pelagianism is important because he does not merely use “Semi-Pelagian” as a passing theological label. In Willing to Believe, he presents a historical and theological framework in which Augustinianism stands opposed to Pelagianism and Semi-Pelagianism, with Arminian theology later falling into essentially the same category.
Sproul’s framework is explicit:
“The classic issue between Augustinian theology and all forms of semi-Pelagianism focuses on one aspect of the order of salvation (ordo salutis): What is the relationship between regeneration and faith? Is regeneration a monergistic or synergistic work? Must a person first exercise faith in order to be born again? Or must rebirth occur before a person is able to exercise faith?”¹
Sproul then defines the distinction between monergism and synergism:
“Monergistic regeneration means that regeneration is accomplished by a single actor, God. It means literally a ‘one-working.’ Synergism, on the other hand, refers to a work that involves the action of two or more parties. It is a co-working.”
He immediately makes this a historical claim about Semi-Pelagianism:
“All forms of semi-Pelagianism assert some sort of synergism in the work of regeneration. Usually God’s assisting grace is seen as a necessary ingredient, but it is dependent on human cooperation for its efficacy.”
And he goes further:
“According to semi-Pelagianism regeneration is wrought by God, but only in those who have first responded in faith to him. Faith is seen not as the fruit of regeneration, but as an act of the will cooperating with God’s offer of grace.”²
Thus, Sproul establishes a very definite sequence:
God provides grace 
man cooperates by believing God regenerates.
His Augustinian/Reformed alternative reverses the order:
God regenerates regeneration produces faith.
Sproul states the latter position just as explicitly:
“The Reformers taught not only that regeneration does precede faith but also that it must precede faith. Because of the moral bondage of the unregenerate sinner, he cannot have faith until he is changed internally by the operative, monergistic work of the Holy Spirit. Faith is regeneration’s fruit, not its cause.”³
From Semi-Pelagianism To Arminianism
Sproul does not leave this framework in the fifth century. He applies it directly to later Arminian theology. Discussing the question of whether salvation ultimately depends upon something human beings do for themselves, Sproul writes that those who answer yes:
“thereby deny man’s utter helplessness in sin, and affirm that a form of semi-Pelagianism is true after all.”⁴
He then describes the Reformed assessment of Arminianism as a return to Rome and a betrayal of the Reformation.⁵ The progression is therefore fairly clear:⁶
This is important because it shows that Sproul is doing more than arguing that Calvinism and Arminianism have different ordo salutis. He is placing the later dispute within a historical narrative that runs from Pelagianism through Semi-Pelagianism to Arminianism, with Augustinianism and the Reformation on the opposing side.
Where the Historical Question Begins
The problem is not that Sproul distinguishes monergism from synergism. That is a legitimate theological distinction, and his argument that Reformed theology understands regeneration as a monergistic work can be evaluated on biblical and systematic-theological grounds.
The historical question is different:
Did the fifth-century Christians later labeled “Semi-Pelagians” actually constitute a coherent theological movement holding the precise position Sproul attributes to them?
And even more fundamentally: Is “Semi-Pelagianism” an appropriate fifth-century historical designation in the first place?
This is where modern historical scholarship complicates Sproul’s presentation.
John Cassian is a particularly useful example. Cassian has traditionally been placed under the Semi-Pelagian label, yet Lauren Pristas’s research argues that Cassian understood salvation as being, from beginning to end, the effect of God’s grace while simultaneously insisting that salvation involves genuine human consent. Pristas therefore concludes that Cassian’s theology “is not Semi-Pelagian.”⁷
That creates an important complication for Sproul’s definition.
If Semi-Pelagianism simply means that human beings cooperate with divine grace, then Cassian may appear to fit the category. But if Cassian can affirm that salvation is entirely the effect of divine grace while also affirming genuine human consent, then the label “Semi-Pelagian” may obscure important distinctions within the actual fifth-century debate.
There is another problem: the terminology itself is much later than the controversy it is commonly used to describe.
The term “Semi-Pelagianism” was not the self-designation of a fifth-century movement. Historical research by Irena Backus and Aza Goudriaan traces the term to the sixteenth century, with its first known use by Theodore Beza around 1556. Initially, Beza used it polemically to describe contemporary Roman Catholic teaching concerning grace and human will; only later was the term applied retrospectively to the fifth-century Massilian controversy.⁸
That does not mean the fifth-century controversy was imaginary. There were genuine disagreements among Augustine, Prosper, Cassian, Faustus of Riez, the monks of Hadrumetum, and others concerning grace, free will, predestination, and the beginning of faith.
The issue is whether we should take the later category “Semi-Pelagianism” and treat it as though it were the name of a clearly defined fifth-century movement whose members all shared Sproul’s theological definition.
That is considerably harder to establish.
The Important Distinction
We therefore need to separate two questions.
I am not arguing that Sproul was wrong to distinguish monergism from synergism. Nor am I arguing that he was wrong that Arminian theology differs from Reformed theology concerning the relationship between regeneration and faith.
Those are theological propositions that can be debated on biblical and systematic-theological grounds. The historical issue is narrower:
Sproul takes a later theological category—“Semi-Pelagianism”—and presents it as though it straightforwardly describes the historical opponents of Augustine, then uses that category as a bridge to characterize Arminianism.
That is a substantially different claim. Sproul’s theological taxonomy may be internally coherent. That does not automatically make his historical taxonomy accurate. And this distinction becomes even more important when we return to Pelagius himself.
Modern examination of Pelagius’s surviving writings has complicated the traditional portrait of him as someone who simply believed human beings could achieve righteousness without divine grace. Pelagius repeatedly spoke of God’s grace and assistance, Christ’s work, the help of the Holy Spirit, baptism, and God’s continuing help. Ali Bonner’s examination of the surviving Pelagian corpus emphasizes precisely these features.⁹
That does not make Pelagius Augustinian. It certainly does not make him Calvinistic.
But it does raise a significant historical question:
If Pelagius himself does not fit the caricature later associated with “Pelagianism,” and if the Christians later labeled “Semi-Pelagians” did not necessarily share a single coherent theological system, how reliable is the traditional historical chain from Pelagius Semi-Pelagianism Arminianism?
That is the question worth investigating.
And this is why Sproul’s Willing to Believe is so useful. He puts his historical framework on the table in unusually clear language. We do not have to infer what he means. He explicitly defines Semi-Pelagianism as synergism in regeneration, contrasts it with Augustinian monergism, and then applies the category to those who believe that human faith precedes regeneration—including Arminians.¹⁰
The question, then, is not simply whether Sproul’s theology is Reformed.
It obviously is.
The more interesting question is whether his history accurately represents the people and controversies to which he applies those categories.
Notes
- R. C. Sproul, Willing to Believe: The Controversy over Free Will (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Books, 1997), 3.
- Sproul, Willing to Believe, 3.
- Ibid., 3.
- Ibid., 4.
- Ibid., 4.
- Ibid., 5.
- Lauren Pristas, The Theological Anthropology of John Cassian (PhD diss., Boston College, 1993), cited in God’s Provision for All: A Defense of God’s Goodness.
- Irena Backus and Aza Goudriaan, “‘Semipelagianism’: The Origins of the Term and Its Passage into the History of Heresy,” Journal of Ecclesiastical History 65, no. 1 (2014): 25–46.
- Ali Bonner, The Myth of Pelagianism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2018), especially her discussion of Pelagius’s surviving writings and his treatment of grace and divine assistance.
- Sproul, Willing to Believe, 3–5.
…more below
The TRUTH About Semi-Pelagianism | Leighton Flowers | Calvinism
Many people love to throw around the terms “Pelagianism” and “Semi-Pelagianism”, but many folks have no idea what those terms entail. More often than not, they are effectively a boogeyman and/or straw man to avoid actual, productive discourse. Leighton Flowers explains what the terms mean and why Provisionism does not fit into either category.
To read Dr. Adam Harwood’s article on the topic please go here; To read Dr. David Allen’s article on the topic please go here.
2. The First Problem:
Sproul’s Portrait of Pelagius—and the History Behind It
The first major problem with Sproul’s historical framework is his portrayal of Pelagius himself.
In his Chosen by God teaching, reproduced in the Renewing Your Mind broadcast “Everyone Believes This Doctrine,” Sproul explicitly lays out the threefold historical framework he accepts:
He says:
“I didn’t invent this designation, but I agree with it. These are the three major generic types of theology that have influenced church history.”¹
That is important because Sproul is not merely using these terms casually. He is consciously adopting this threefold historical taxonomy.¹
He then describes the fundamental disagreement between Augustine and Pelagius as the question of how necessary God’s grace is for salvation. And his description of Pelagius is exceptionally strong:
“Pelagius was of the opinion that the grace of God assists human beings to be saved, but is in no way necessary.”²
Sproul immediately explains:
“His fundamental assumption was that man in his natural state has within himself the capacity to keep the commandments of God to such a degree as to be redeemed without any help from divine grace.”²
Sproul therefore presents Pelagianism as essentially human ability without a necessary dependence upon divine grace. That is a very significant historical claim.
The problem with that characterization
The question is not whether Pelagius agreed with Augustine.
HE DIDN’T.
Nor is the question whether Pelagius had a different understanding of grace, human ability, original sin, and salvation.
HE CLEARLY DID.
The more precise question is whether Pelagius actually taught what Sproul says he taught: that divine grace was “in no way necessary” and that human beings could be redeemed “without any help from divine grace.” That is where the surviving writings of Pelagius become important.
Ali Bonner’s examination of those writings finds repeated references to God’s grace, God’s help, the Holy Spirit, Christ’s work, baptism, and divine assistance. Her discussion of Pelagius’s On Free Will, for example, points to his acknowledgment of God’s continuing and daily help. That does not make Pelagius Augustinian. But it creates an important distinction:
Pelagius rejected Augustine’s understanding of grace
is one claim.
Pelagius believed God’s grace was unnecessary for salvation
is another.
The second claim requires considerably more scrutiny.
The chronology of Augustine’s own theology also complicates the story
There is another reason the traditional narrative deserves closer examination: the chronology of Augustine’s theology itself.
Ken Wilson, in The Foundation of Augustinian-Calvinism, argues that Augustine’s later deterministic theology did not emerge in its mature form in the 396–397 period, as is commonly associated with Ad Simplicianum. Wilson argues instead that a major theological transition occurred around 412, during Augustine’s developing conflict with the Pelagians. According to Wilson, Augustine’s theology prior to 412 continued to affirm human free choice and election according to God’s foreknowledge, while his later writings increasingly introduced the concepts that would become central to Augustinian predestination and inability.³
Wilson specifically argues that Augustine’s theological shift began during the controversy with Pelagius and included the loss of human free will, inherited damnable guilt, unilateral divine gift of faith, and selective perseverance.³
This is important because it changes the way the historical story can be framed. Instead of simply assuming:
Pelagius challenged Augustine’s already fully developed Augustinian theology
we have to at least consider the possibility that
the Pelagian controversy itself was one of the major catalysts in the development and radicalization of Augustine’s later anthropology.
Wilson goes even further. He argues that Augustine had maintained what Wilson calls the traditional Christian understanding of free choice for roughly twenty-five years before 412, and that Augustine’s later deterministic theology represented a significant departure from his earlier position.⁴
That is Wilson’s thesis, which is important because it demonstrates that the historical development of Augustine’s theology is itself a subject of scholarly dispute.
And that matters because the question before us is not merely:
“Was Augustine right?”
It is also:
“How did Augustine’s understanding of human nature and grace become the dominant Western position?”
Those are two different historical questions.
And the church’s response was not as simple as the traditional narrative suggests
Once we examine the fifth-century controversy itself, the simple story begins to break down. The traditional presentation can sound like this:
But the historical process was considerably more complicated.
Pelagius was vindicated at Diospolis in 415. African bishops continued to oppose Pelagius and Caelestius, and African councils condemned teachings associated with them. Pope Zosimus subsequently reopened the case and initially treated Caelestius’s position favorably. The controversy then escalated until Emperor Honorius intervened in 418.
On April 30, 418, Honorius issued an imperial decree against Pelagius and Caelestius. The Council of Carthage followed with condemnation on May 1, and Pope Zosimus subsequently endorsed the African position through his Epistola tractoria. So the historical progression was not simply: Augustine convinces the church Pelagius loses.
It was:
That does not mean that Augustine simply bypassed the church and imposed his theology by the “Roman sword.” There were genuine councils, bishops, theological arguments, and papal involvement.
But neither should the history be reduced to an uncontested theological consensus.
Imperial authority became an important part of the final settlement.
And Wilson adds another interesting historical observation. He argues that the earliest reactions to what became known as the Pelagian controversy occurred principally in the East and that Eastern bishops—not Augustine—initiated the initial opposition to Pelagianism. He also notes that Eastern theology concerning nature, grace, original sin, and the necessity of grace could agree with Augustine on important points without embracing his later deterministic anthropology.⁵
Again, Wilson’s larger conclusions are his interpretation of the evidence, not something that should simply be treated as settled fact. But the historical point is important:
“Augustine versus Pelagius” does not adequately describe the entire controversy.
There were multiple figures, multiple theological questions, different regional responses, councils, papal decisions, and eventually imperial intervention.
This is where Sproul’s framework needs qualification
Sproul’s theological argument can be evaluated on its own terms:
- What is the condition of fallen humanity?
- What does grace accomplish?
- Can the human will respond to grace?
- Does regeneration precede faith?
Those are legitimate theological questions.
But Sproul’s historical taxonomy is another matter.
He presents:
as essentially successive expressions of the same basic theological problem, standing against the Augustinian understanding of grace. Indeed, he explicitly connects the later Remonstrants, Calvinists, and Methodists to this same underlying dispute.⁶ That is precisely where modern historical scholarship raises questions.
The people later classified as “Semi-Pelagians” did not necessarily constitute one unified movement, and the term itself was coined centuries after the fifth-century controversy. Likewise, the surviving writings of Pelagius make it increasingly difficult to sustain the simplest version of the traditional caricature.
And the chronology of Augustine’s own theological development is disputed as well. Wilson argues for a significant transition around 412, while other scholars place Augustine’s decisive shift earlier or interpret the development as more gradual. The important point for our purposes is not that Wilson has settled the question, but that the historical development of Augustinian anthropology is itself contested. Granted, “Sproul didn’t understand Pelagius” is too basic. Rather:
Sproul’s historical account is heavily shaped by the Augustinian/Reformed interpretation of the Pelagian controversy. His theological taxonomy is clear and internally coherent, but modern examination of Pelagius’s surviving writings, the complicated history of the fifth-century controversy, and competing reconstructions of Augustine’s own theological development make his historical construction considerably more difficult to maintain in its traditional form.
And that is really the larger point. Sproul’s theological argument may stand or fall on Scripture and theology. But his historical genealogy should not simply be assumed. It has to be demonstrated.
Notes
- R. C. Sproul, “Everyone Believes This Doctrine,” Renewing Your Mind, transcript, p. 2.
- Ibid., p. 3.
- Ken Wilson, The Foundation of Augustinian-Calvinism (Regula Fidei Press, 2019), pp. 40–42. Wilson argues that Augustine’s major transition toward his later deterministic theology occurred around 412 during his conflict with the Pelagians.
- Wilson, The Foundation of Augustinian-Calvinism, pp. 25, 36, 40. Wilson argues that Augustine maintained traditional Christian free-choice theology prior to 412 and that the later transition occurred during the Pelagian controversy.
- Wilson, The Foundation of Augustinian-Calvinism, pp. 71–72. Wilson argues that pre-Augustinian Christian authors generally defended free choice against unilateral determinism and that the initial reactions to Pelagianism occurred principally in the East.
- R. C. Sproul, “Everyone Believes This Doctrine,” Renewing Your Mind, transcript, p. 4.
3. The Second Problem:
Sproul Turns a Theological Distinction
into a Historical Taxonomy
This is where the issue becomes more complicated. R.C. Sproul’s distinction between monergism and synergism is clear. More importantly, Sproul himself is very clear about what he believes separates the Reformed position from what he calls Semi-Pelagianism.
In Willing to Believe, Sproul frames the issue around the relationship between regeneration and faith:
“The classic issue between Augustinian theology and all forms of semi-Pelagianism focuses on one aspect of the order of salvation (ordo salutis): What is the relationship between regeneration and faith?”¹
He then defines the two alternatives:
“Monergistic regeneration means that regeneration is accomplished by a single actor, God.”¹
By contrast, synergism involves “the action of two or more parties”—a “co-working.”¹ Sproul then makes his historical-theological classification explicit:
“All forms of semi-Pelagianism assert some sort of synergism in the work of regeneration.”¹
For Sproul, the decisive question is therefore not simply whether human beings possess a will, or whether they make genuine choices. The question is whether an unregenerate person can respond to God’s grace in faith before regeneration occurs. Sproul’s answer is no. He says:
“The Reformers taught not only that regeneration does precede faith but also that it must precede faith.”¹
And he explains why:
“Because of the moral bondage of the unregenerate sinner, he cannot have faith until he is changed internally by the operative, monergistic work of the Holy Spirit. Faith is regeneration’s fruit, not its cause.”¹
That gives us a very clear picture of Sproul’s theological system:
Sproul Then Extends This Category to Arminianism
This is particularly important because Sproul does not leave Semi-Pelagianism as a description of an isolated fifth-century controversy.
In the same discussion, Sproul quotes J. I. Packer and O. R. Johnston asking whether salvation is “wholly of God” or whether it “ultimately depend[s] on something that we do for ourselves.” Their conclusion is that those who take the latter position “affirm that a form of semi-Pelagianism is true after all.”¹
Sproul accepts this assessment and connects it directly to Arminian theology. He describes later Reformed opposition to Arminianism as a rejection of the Reformation’s doctrine of sola gratia, even describing Arminianism as, in principle, a “return to Rome” and a “betrayal of the Reformation.”¹
This is not merely a criticism of a contemporary theological alternative. Sproul is presenting a historical continuity:
Sproul summarizes the larger conflict by saying:
“The age-old debate between Pelagianism and Augustinianism is played out in the arena of these issues.”¹
That sentence is important. Sproul is not simply saying, “I disagree with Arminianism.” He is placing the Arminian controversy within what he considers an age-old Pelagian-versus-Augustinian conflict.
Sproul’s Chosen by God Reinforces the Same Framework
This was not an argument Sproul made only in Willing to Believe.
In Chosen by God, he makes essentially the same distinction when discussing the Reformed understanding of predestination. Sproul says that, in the Reformed view, God’s choice precedes man’s choice. God intervenes to bring the elect to saving faith, and the ultimate destiny of the individual is therefore determined by God rather than resting ultimately upon human choice.²
He contrasts this with what he calls the “foreknowledge view”, arguing that if God’s inward call merely accompanies people whom God already knows will respond, then the decisive difference still lies in the human response.²
Likewise, when discussing regeneration and faith, Sproul argues that God’s grace can be resisted in a general sense, but God’s regenerating grace cannot fail to accomplish its purpose. Once God creates spiritual life and gives the person a desire for Christ, the person will choose Christ.³
This is why Sproul prefers the term “effectual grace” to “irresistible grace.”³ His reasoning is internally consistent: If regeneration actually occurs, faith necessarily follows.
Therefore, if faith must occur before regeneration, then faith cannot be the fruit of regeneration. It must instead be the human response that precedes it. For Sproul, that is the fundamental theological error.
Truths We Confess Makes the Same Point
Sproul’s Truths We Confess: A Layman’s Guide to the Westminster Confession of Faith provides another particularly useful example.
There he describes what he calls the “semi-Pelagian position” as the belief that God gives saving or “prevenient” grace to everybody, but that after God has done His part, “the final decision depends on what each individual does with that grace.”⁴
Sproul then asks why one person cooperates with grace while another rejects it. His answer is that, if both received the same grace, the person who responded correctly has ultimately done something the other person did not do.⁴ He therefore argues that the Reformed position gives God the decisive role in salvation, whereas the alternative ultimately leaves the final distinction between the saved and the lost in the human response.⁴
Again, the theological structure is unmistakable:
But Here We Need to Separate Two Different Questions
And this is the point where I think we need to be especially careful.
Sproul’s theological distinction is one question.
Is regeneration monergistic or synergistic? Does regeneration precede faith? Can an unregenerate person respond positively to God’s grace? Does saving faith originate entirely in God’s action, or does the human response constitute a genuine condition that God has chosen to honor?
Those are legitimate theological questions, and Sproul presents a coherent Reformed answer to them.
But Sproul’s historical taxonomy is a different question.
Did the fifth-century Christians later called “Semi-Pelagians” actually constitute a unified movement that held the precise theological position Sproul attributes to them? And even more fundamentally: Is “Semi-Pelagianism” an appropriate name for a fifth-century movement at all?
That is where the historical evidence becomes considerably less tidy.
The problem is not that there were no fifth-century disagreements about grace and free will. There certainly were. The problem is that later historians and theologians grouped a variety of people, texts, and controversies under a single category and then treated that category as though it described a clearly identifiable historical movement.
John Cassian is a particularly useful example. The traditional designation of Cassian as “Semi-Pelagian” has itself been disputed. One study cited in our research describes Cassian’s position as teaching that salvation is, from beginning to end, the effect of God’s grace while simultaneously involving genuine human consent and the rehabilitation of human freedom. The author explicitly concludes that Cassian’s thought is NOT SEMI-PELAGIAN.⁵
That should make us pause.
If “Semi-Pelagianism” simply means human cooperation with divine grace, Cassian appears to fit the category.
But if a Christian can affirm that salvation is entirely dependent upon God’s grace while also affirming genuine human consent, then cooperation by itself cannot establish that someone was historically “Semi-Pelagian.”
RPT BREAK:
This distinction is important because it is easy to confuse human response with human contribution. As discussed in Calvinism’s Conflation | Flowers and Tozer, the non-Calvinist position can affirm that salvation is entirely dependent upon God’s gracious provision while still maintaining that the sinner must personally respond in repentance and faith. In that framework, God provides the atonement, the gospel, the gracious invitation, and the means of salvation; the person’s response does not add merit to Christ’s work or make salvation partly man’s accomplishment.
That is precisely why the mere presence of human cooperation cannot, by itself, establish the historical label “Semi-Pelagian.” The real historical question is what kind of cooperation was being affirmed, and how was that cooperation understood in relation to God’s grace?
The Name Itself Creates Another Historical Problem
The term “Semi-Pelagianism” was not the self-designation of a fifth-century theological movement. It is a later label applied retrospectively to a collection of fifth-and-sixth-century debates. This does not mean that the controversies were invented. It means we have to distinguish between:
- the actual fifth-century debates over grace, free will, predestination, and perseverance;
- the particular individuals and positions involved in those debates;
- the later category called “Semi-Pelagianism”; and
- the modern theological system to which that label is sometimes applied.
Those are not necessarily the same thing.
Ali Bonner’s examination of Pelagius’s surviving writings makes the problem even sharper. She argues that there is a “profound disjunction” between the Pelagianism described by Pelagius’s opponents and what can actually be found in Pelagius’s surviving writings.⁶ She argues that many of the propositions later associated with “Pelagianism” cannot be demonstrated from Pelagius’s own surviving texts.⁶
Bonner also argues that ideas associated with Pelagius—particularly human freedom and the goodness of human nature—were already widespread in earlier ascetic Christian literature.⁷
Whether one accepts Bonner’s much stronger thesis that “Pelagianism” itself was a historical fiction is another question. Her work is revisionist and has generated substantial scholarly discussion, with some scholars accepting important parts of her critique while questioning aspects of her reconstruction and methodology. But the primary-source evidence is sufficient to establish a more modest point:
So What Exactly Is the Problem With Sproul?
It isn’t that R.C. Sproul didn’t understand Pelagius, it is rather that Sproul was working within a longstanding Augustinian and Reformed interpretation, and his theological argument is quite clear. A more historically defensible criticism is this:
Sproul’s theological distinction between monergism and synergism is clear and internally coherent, but his historical taxonomy treats “Pelagianism” and “Semi-Pelagianism” as though they were straightforward descriptions of identifiable historical movements. Modern examination of the surviving sources makes that historical construction considerably more complicated.
And that distinction matters.
That historical connection has to be demonstrated from the historical evidence.
And that is precisely where the traditional narrative begins to come apart.
Notes
- R. C. Sproul, Willing to Believe: The Controversy over Free Will (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Books, 1997), 35–37.
- R. C. Sproul, Chosen by God (Wheaton, IL: Tyndale House, 1986), 136–37.
- Sproul, Chosen by God, 120–21.
- R. C. Sproul, Truths We Confess: A Layman’s Guide to the Westminster Confession of Faith, discussion of Westminster Confession 3.1–4. ;
- Lauren Pristas, discussion of John Cassian, cited in God’s Provision for All: A Defense of God’s Goodness. The source summarizes Pristas as arguing that for Cassian salvation is “from beginning to end” the effect of God’s grace while also involving genuine human consent.
- Ali Bonner, The Myth of Pelagianism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2018), discussion of Pelagius’s surviving writings and Augustine’s fourteen attributed tenets.
- Bonner, The Myth of Pelagianism, discussion of pre-Pelagian ascetic literature and the continuity of its teaching on human nature, free will, and grace.
4. The Third Problem:
Human Cooperation with Grace Is
Not the Same as Semi-Pelagianism
This is where the distinction becomes especially important.
R.C. Sproul’s definition of Semi-Pelagianism centers on human cooperation in salvation. In Willing to Believe, he describes the classic disagreement between Augustinian theology and what he calls Semi-Pelagianism as a question of whether regeneration precedes or follows faith. For Sproul, the Reformed position is monergistic: God alone acts in regeneration, and regeneration produces faith. Semi-Pelagianism, by contrast, is synergistic: God provides grace, but the human response is involved in bringing about regeneration.¹
That theological distinction is clear enough. The problem comes when synergism itself becomes virtually synonymous with Semi-Pelagianism.
Roger Olson points out that the terms monergism and synergism are broader theological categories. Synergism simply refers to some form of free human participation in salvation; it does not automatically mean Pelagianism or Semi-Pelagianism. Olson explicitly distinguishes heretical synergism from what he calls evangelical synergism. Classical Arminianism, he argues, is synergistic, but it is not Pelagian or Semi-Pelagian because it teaches that God’s prevenient grace precedes every human response toward God.²
That distinction matters.
If Semi-Pelagianism means that fallen human beings can initiate salvation out of their own natural ability, then classical Arminianism does not fit that definition. Olson describes classical Arminianism as affirming that fallen humanity is spiritually helpless and that supernatural grace is necessary even for the first movement of the will toward God. He summarizes the Arminian position this way: God initiates the relationship and enables the person to respond freely; no one can repent, believe, or be saved without the Holy Spirit’s supernatural work.³
In other words, the question cannot simply be:
Does the human being respond?
The more important question is:
Where does the ability to respond come from?
That is a very different question.
Grace Does Not Have to Eliminate Human Response
Jerry Walls makes essentially this distinction in Does God Love Everyone? His model gives God the decisive role in salvation while still treating human faith and cooperation as genuinely significant. He describes God’s actions as the dominant ones: God initiates, regenerates, sanctifies, glorifies, and ultimately secures salvation. At the same time, human free response is a necessary condition for salvation. Walls therefore does not see human response as competing with God’s grace. Rather, God’s gracious initiative makes the human response possible without making that response meaningless.⁴ This is important because it exposes a weakness in a common Reformed argument:
If salvation involves human cooperation, then salvation is no longer entirely of grace.
That conclusion does not necessarily follow. A person can receive something entirely by grace and still be required to respond to it. The response does not thereby become the meritorious cause of the gift.
Chuck Smith’s Calvinism, Arminianism & the Word of God provides a useful evangelical illustration of this distinction. Smith affirms that humanity is fallen, that no one can earn or deserve salvation, and that salvation depends upon God’s grace and the work of the Holy Spirit. Yet he also says that God offers salvation to all and that human beings must accept God’s invitation.
Smith’s position is therefore neither:
“Man saves himself.”
nor:
“Man contributes nothing whatsoever to the response of faith.”
Instead, it is essentially:
God provides the gracious provision; the human being must respond to it.
Whether that theological model is ultimately biblical is a separate question. But it demonstrates why “human cooperation” by itself is insufficient to establish Semi-Pelagianism.
Even Arminian Sources Distinguish the Two
Olson is particularly valuable here because he does not merely defend Arminianism against Calvinist criticism. He traces the distinction historically within the Arminian tradition itself.
He points to theologians such as Richard Watson, William Burton Pope, Thomas Summers, and John Wesley, who strongly affirmed original sin and the necessity of supernatural grace while rejecting Semi-Pelagianism. William Burton Pope, for example, insisted that humanity has no ability to return to God apart from grace and that even cooperation with grace is itself the result of grace.
Olson likewise distinguishes the classical Arminian tradition from later figures whom he considers more properly Semi-Pelagian. He argues that Philip Limborch moved in a Semi-Pelagian direction because his conception of prevenient grace merely assisted remaining human capabilities, whereas Arminius and Wesley understood prevenient grace as a supernatural work of God that enables the fallen person to respond.
That is a significant historical distinction. It means that even within the Arminian tradition, the important question was not simply whether humans cooperate with grace. The question was what grace does to the fallen human will before that cooperation occurs.
This Also Complicates Sproul’s Identification of Arminianism with Semi-Pelagianism
This is where Sproul’s taxonomy becomes especially difficult.
Sproul does not merely use Semi-Pelagianism to describe a fifth-century controversy. He also applies the category to later theological systems. In Willing to Believe, he accepts the argument that if salvation ultimately depends upon something human beings do for themselves, then a form of Semi-Pelagianism has effectively been embraced. He therefore places Arminianism on the synergistic side of the same basic divide.⁵
But Olson specifically challenges this identification.
He notes that Arminianism has repeatedly been equated with Semi-Pelagianism in Reformed literature while ignoring the Arminian doctrine of prevenient grace. He even documents cases in which Calvinist writers treated Arminianism as Semi-Pelagian while failing to engage its explicit teaching that grace precedes and enables the human response.
Olson’s point deserves consideration even if one ultimately rejects his Arminian theology:
- If an opponent’s actual doctrine includes supernatural grace preceding and enabling the human response, then calling that doctrine Semi-Pelagian requires more argument than simply pointing to the existence of human response.
And that brings us back to the historical question.
The Category Needs to Be Used Carefully
There is a legitimate theological disagreement between Calvinism and Arminianism concerning the relationship between grace, regeneration, faith, and human freedom. Sproul is perfectly within his rights to argue that his monergistic understanding is the biblical one.
But that theological argument should not be confused with the historical claim that every theology involving human cooperation with grace belongs to the historical category of “Semi-Pelagianism.”
Those are two different propositions.
The first asks:
What does Scripture teach about God’s grace, regeneration, faith, and the human will?
The second asks:
Who in church history actually taught what we now call Semi-Pelagianism, and does that category accurately describe them?
The first is a theological question. The second is a historical question.
And once those questions are separated, Sproul’s argument becomes much more complicated. His monergism-versus-synergism framework is clear and internally coherent, but it does not automatically establish his historical taxonomy.
Human cooperation does not prove Pelagianism.
Human cooperation does not even prove Semi-Pelagianism.
The decisive historical question is what kind of cooperation is being described, and whether that cooperation originates in unaided human ability or in God’s prior grace.
That distinction is crucial—not only for evaluating Arminianism, but also for determining whether the fifth-century Christians later labeled “Semi-Pelagians” actually belonged under that label in the first place.
Notes
- R. C. Sproul, Willing to Believe: The Controversy over Free Will (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Books, 1997), 35–37. Sproul defines the classic issue as the relationship between regeneration and faith and distinguishes monergism from synergism.
- Roger E. Olson, Arminian Theology: Myths and Realities (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2006). Olson distinguishes heretical Pelagian/Semi-Pelagian synergism from what he calls evangelical synergism.
- Olson, Arminian Theology, discussion of prevenient grace. Olson states that God initiates the relationship and enables the person to respond freely and that no person can repent, believe, or be saved without the Spirit’s supernatural support.
- Jerry L. Walls, Does God Love Everyone? The Heart of What’s Wrong with Calvinism (Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, 2016). Walls distinguishes God’s decisive role in salvation from the necessity of human free response.
- Sproul, Willing to Believe, 36–37.
- Roger E. Olson, Arminian Theology, discussion of the historical identification of Arminianism with Semi-Pelagianism and the distinction between classical Arminianism and later developments.
5. There’s an Even Bigger Irony
Sproul makes another statement that deserves closer examination:
“Historically semi-Pelagianism is not called semi-Augustinianism, but semi-Pelagianism.”¹
At first glance, this sounds like a straightforward historical observation. But there is an irony here:
the historical label Sproul is using to explain the movement was not actually a fifth-century label.
The people later classified as “Semi-Pelagians” did not identify themselves by that name. More importantly, the term Semi-Pelagianism did not arise during the fifth-century controversies over Augustine, Pelagius, and the Gallic monks. The terminology arose much later. Irena Backus and Aza Goudriaan trace the origin of the term to sixteenth-century Protestant polemics, identifying Theodore Beza as the first person known to have used the term, around 1556.²
The existence of a later label does not, by itself, demonstrate the existence of the historical system that the label eventually came to describe. Otherwise, we risk reasoning backward:
But that is precisely the historical question that needs to be demonstrated.
The proper question is not simply
what later theologians called these people.
The question is
what the fifth-century theologians actually believed about sin, grace, human freedom, faith, and the beginning of salvation.
This does NOT mean that there was no fifth-century controversy over grace and human freedom. There clearly was. Nor does the later origin of the term prove that the people eventually labeled “Semi-Pelagians” agreed with one another on every point. It means that we need to distinguish the historical people and their writings from the later theological category imposed upon them.
And this is where Sproul’s statement becomes particularly interesting. His argument is that Semi-Pelagianism represents a compromise with Augustinianism because it retains an “island of righteousness” within fallen humanity—a capacity by which the person can “turn,” “change,” “incline,” or “dispose” himself toward grace.¹
But notice what has happened.
📢 The theological definition is being used to justify the historical label, while the historical label is then used to reinforce the theological definition.
That creates a potential circularity. The historical question cannot simply be:
“Why did later theologians call them Semi-Pelagians rather than Semi-Augustinians?”
The more important questions are:
- What did the fifth-century theologians actually teach?
- Did they believe that fallen humanity could initiate the movement toward God apart from preceding grace?
- What did they believe about original sin, prevenient grace, free will, faith, and the beginning of salvation?
- And to what extent did these theologians actually constitute a single theological movement?
Those questions have to be answered from the fifth-century sources themselves—not simply from the terminology later applied to them.
The history of the term makes this even more important. Backus and Goudriaan show that the meaning of Semi-Pelagianism itself CHANGED OVER TIME. Beza initially used the term for contemporary opponents. The Formula of Concord used it in 1577 for Lutheran synergists. Then, beginning with the Roman Catholic polemicist Nicholas Sanders in 1571, the term increasingly became associated with the fifth-century Massilian monks. Thus, the familiar historical meaning of Semi-Pelagianism was itself the product of a developing post-Reformation classification.²
That is a significant qualification to the traditional historical storyline. It means we should be careful with a neat progression such as:
because those labels do not necessarily represent three neatly connected historical stages in which one self-conscious movement simply developed into the next.
The terminology came later. The categories were refined later. And the application of those categories to fifth-century figures was itself part of a later theological and historical debate.² This does not settle the theological question in favor of Arminianism, Provisionism, or any other position. Nor does it prove that the fifth-century critics of Augustine were simply “Semi-Augustinians” in every meaningful sense. Those are separate questions.
What it does establish is something much more modest—and much more important for our purposes:
We cannot use the later name “Semi-Pelagianism” as though the name itself proves the existence, unity, or theological content of the historical movement to which it was eventually applied.
Sproul is therefore making two different arguments that need to be separated.
- The first can be debated from Scripture and theology.
- The second has to be established from history, texts, terminology, and context.
And once we make that distinction, the historical picture becomes considerably more complicated than Sproul’s theological taxonomy suggests.
The irony, then, is not that the fifth-century controversy was imaginary. It is that the very name being used to organize the history is itself a later construction.
And that brings us to the next question:
But Were the So-Called “Semi-Pelagians” Actually Semi-Pelagian?
Footnotes
- R. C. Sproul, “The Pelagian Captivity of the Church,” Modern Reformation 10, no. 3 (May/June 2001): 22–29.
- Irena Backus and Aza Goudriaan, “‘Semipelagianism’: The Origins of the Term and Its Passage into the History of Heresy,” Journal of Ecclesiastical History 65, no. 1 (2014): 25–46.
6. But Were the So-Called “Semi-Pelagians”
Actually Semi-Pelagian?
Once we recognize that the term Semi-Pelagianism was applied retrospectively, another question becomes unavoidable:
Did the fifth-century theologians later given that label actually hold the theological position that the label came to represent?
The answer is not nearly as simple as the traditional storyline suggests.
There certainly were real fifth-century disagreements over grace, free will, predestination, and the beginning of faith. Augustine’s theology of grace provoked concerns among some Christians in southern Gaul, and figures such as John Cassian, Prosper of Aquitaine, Vincent of Lérins, Faustus of Riez, and the monks associated with Hadrumetum became involved in different ways. The issue, therefore, is not whether there was a controversy.
There was.
The issue is whether these diverse people should be grouped together under a single theological system called Semi-Pelagianism.¹ John Cassian is probably the most important test case.
Cassian has traditionally been presented as the leading representative of the so-called Semi-Pelagians. In the traditional account, he represented a middle position between Pelagius and Augustine: he affirmed the necessity of grace but maintained that the human will must cooperate with that grace. His Conferences, particularly Conference XIII, have therefore frequently been cited as evidence of Semi-Pelagian theology.²
But there is a significant problem with simply equating human cooperation with Semi-Pelagianism.
Lauren Pristas’s study of Cassian reaches a very different conclusion. She argues that, for Cassian, salvation is “from beginning to end, the effect of God’s grace” and that it is therefore fully divine. At the same time, because salvation is the salvation of a rational creature who has sinned through free choice, Cassian maintains that salvation necessarily includes genuine human consent and the restoration of the faculty of free choice.
Pristas’s conclusion is explicit: Cassian’s theology is not Semi-Pelagian.
That distinction is extremely important for our discussion.
Cassian can affirm human cooperation with grace without affirming that human beings independently initiate salvation. Those are not necessarily the same thing.
And that brings us back to the central problem with Sproul’s classification. If Semi-Pelagianism is defined broadly enough to mean any theological system in which human beings cooperate with God’s grace, then Cassian can readily be placed inside the category. But if the defining issue is whether fallen humanity can make the first movement toward God apart from preceding divine grace, then the question becomes much more complicated.
In other words: Human cooperation with grace does not necessarily equal human initiative apart from grace.
That distinction cannot simply be dismissed as a minor technicality. It is precisely the distinction that separates classical Arminian theology from Pelagianism and Semi-Pelagianism as those terms are ordinarily understood by their defenders.
The historical evidence also complicates the idea that the fifth-century “Semi-Pelagians” formed one unified movement. Backus and Goudriaan note that the traditional use of the term can misleadingly suggest that the fifth-century figures formed a coherent movement that consciously identified its teaching with Pelagius. They point out that neither Augustine nor the Capitula of the Council of Orange called such a movement “Semi-Pelagian,” and they highlight scholarship questioning whether there was actually a sustained, unified controversy in fifth-century Gaul corresponding neatly to the later category.³
This is why the word “so-called” is useful here. It does not mean that the people in question held no distinctive views. It means that we should distinguish the historical people from the later classification applied to them.
The problem becomes even clearer when we consider that some of these figures agreed with Augustine on far more than the traditional “middle position” description suggests. The Massilian opponents of Augustine were not simply defenders of Pelagius. They accepted the reality of the Fall and the necessity of divine grace. Their disagreements centered on questions such as the operation of grace, human freedom, predestination, and the beginning of faith.³
This makes the familiar three-step genealogy increasingly difficult to sustain:
The diagram looks neat.
The history is not.
Indeed, Ali Bonner goes considerably further than this. Bonner argues that the very category of “Pelagianism” itself breaks down under close examination and that the later classification of various fifth-century texts and authors creates distinctions that were not necessarily present in the original historical setting. Her thesis is controversial and should not simply be treated as settled scholarship, but it illustrates how seriously some modern historians question the traditional categories themselves.⁴
We therefore need to resist two opposite mistakes. The first mistake would be to say:
“The term was coined later, therefore Semi-Pelagianism never existed.”
That conclusion does not follow. A later label can describe an earlier theological position.
The second mistake is the opposite:
“Later theologians called them Semi-Pelagians, therefore they must have held the later definition of Semi-Pelagianism.”
That conclusion does not follow either. The proper historical method lies between those extremes.
We have to examine the actual writings, arguments, historical circumstances, and relationships among the fifth-century figures and then ask whether the later category accurately describes them.
And this brings us back to the theological distinction established earlier in this article.
Those questions overlap, but they are not identical.
And that is precisely why the charge “Semi-Pelagian” cannot simply be established by pointing to the existence of human cooperation. We have to determine what kind of cooperation was being taught, where the ability to cooperate came from, and whether grace preceded and enabled that response.
That is especially important when evaluating later Arminian theology. Classical Arminian writers such as Arminius and Wesley did not appeal to some surviving “island of righteousness” within fallen humanity as the source of saving faith. They explicitly grounded the sinner’s ability to respond in divine grace. Arminius, for example, described the fallen will as powerless toward spiritual good except as it is “excited by Divine grace.” Wesley likewise emphasized the supernatural and enabling character of prevenient grace.
So we are now in a position to make an important distinction:
Whether one ultimately agrees with that Arminian theology is another matter. But historically and theologically, it cannot simply be dismissed as “Semi-Pelagian” merely because it rejects Reformed monergism.
That is the point at which Sproul’s taxonomy becomes less convincing as a historical genealogy. His monergism-versus-synergism distinction may be a legitimate theological framework for evaluating different doctrines of salvation. But it does not automatically establish that everyone who falls on the synergistic side belongs to the historical category Semi-Pelagianism.
The fifth-century evidence has to be allowed to speak for itself.And when it does, the picture is considerably more complicated than:
Footnotes
- Irena Backus and Aza Goudriaan, “‘Semipelagianism’: The Origins of the Term and Its Passage into the History of Heresy,” Journal of Ecclesiastical History 65, no. 1 (2014): 25–46. Backus and Goudriaan note that the traditional designation can suggest a coherent fifth-century movement that consciously identified itself with Pelagius, while also discussing scholarship that questions whether there was a sustained controversy in fifth-century Gaul corresponding neatly to the later category. (Cambridge University Press)
- See John Cassian, Conferences, especially Conference XIII, traditionally regarded as important evidence for the position later called Semi-Pelagianism. The traditional identification of Cassian with Semi-Pelagianism, however, has been disputed by modern scholarship.
- Backus and Goudriaan, “‘Semipelagianism,’” 25–46. They note that neither Augustine nor the Capitula of the Council of Orange refers to a movement as “Semi-Pelagian,” and they discuss the problems involved in treating the fifth-century Massilians as a single, coherent movement. (Cambridge University Press)
- Ali Bonner, The Myth of Pelagianism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2018). Bonner argues that the traditional category of Pelagianism itself is historically problematic and that later classifications have sometimes imposed artificial divisions upon what was a broader ascetic movement. Her reconstruction is revisionist and contested, so it should be treated as an argument within the scholarly discussion rather than as settled consensus.
- Roger E. Olson, Arminian Theology: Myths and Realities (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2006), discussion of Arminius, original sin, prevenient grace, and the distinction between classical Arminianism and Semi-Pelagianism. Arminius’s statement that the fallen will has no spiritual power except those “excited by Divine grace” is reproduced in Olson’s discussion.
- Olson, Arminian Theology, discussion of John Wesley’s doctrine of prevenient grace.
