The college I attended was firmly rooted in Reformed Theology.
Its structure was clear, logical, and comforting to those who valued order. The core doctrines were often summarized using the acronym TULIP:
At the time, I found a strange sense of security in this system.
There was an answer for everything. A logic. A reason.
It felt like I was being shown 'God's plan'—in bullet points.
But then, slowly… I started to notice a shadow inside that logic.
If God only chooses some—what happens to the rest?
Were they created simply to be rejected?
And if their eternal suffering somehow brought glory to God—what kind of glory was that?
No one really asked those questions out loud.
The dominant response was: 'None of us deserves to be saved. The fact that God saves anyone at all should be enough.'
I tried to agree. I tried to silence the ache.
But one night, while playing air hockey with a friend, we started debating Limited Atonement—the idea that Christ didn’t die for everyone, only for the elect.
I gripped the paddle tightly, smiling politely… but inside I was shouting:
'But isn’t that too small a story for a God who is love?'
Something was planted in me that night.
I didn’t walk away from Reformed Theology immediately. But for the first time, I asked:
'What if God’s mercy is bigger than our theological systems?'
And quietly, the petals of the tulip began to fall.