Calvinism and Arminianism Harmoised

When I used to be a Christian, I went through several theological shifts that reflected a deeper conflict not just with doctrine, but with the very nature of God. One of the most significant transitions for me was the journey from a traditional evangelical view of salvation—where only the "saved" escape hell—to that of Christian Universalism, the belief that ultimately, all people will be reconciled to God.

This shift didn’t come easily. I had been steeped in the kind of theology that drew rigid lines between the “elect” and the “damned”, between those who would experience eternal bliss and those who would suffer unending torment. But over time, I began to question whether such a view could truly reflect the character of a God who is love.

As I moved towards Universalism, I also moved away from Calvinism. I could no longer accept the idea that God created some people for salvation and others for damnation. It felt incompatible with any meaningful definition of goodness or justice. I found the Calvinist vision of God not just troubling, but blasphemous—a distortion of divine love. Arminianism, while still not fully in agreement with my Universalist views, at least held to the idea that God desires everyone to be saved. So this was a theology I could be comfortable with.

I remember at one point considering attending a Methodist church. Methodism is rooted in Arminian theology, and while I knew that Arminians aren’t Universalists, I felt more at home with their view of a God who sincerely seeks the salvation of all people. My thinking was that Christian Universalism harmonises both Arminian and Calvinist insights: yes, God has chosen an elect, as Calvinism teaches—but that elect is not an exclusive club; it is simply those who have accepted Christ in this life. And yes, God desires to save all, as Arminianism teaches—and he will do so, even if that salvation comes in the life to come. Seen in this way, the theological conflict between Arminians and Calvinists dissolves into something greater and joyous.

So even though I didn’t fully align myself with Arminianism, I felt no tension about attending an Arminian church. The real issue was Calvinism. I couldn’t bring myself to worship with those who believed in a God who would intentionally create people for eternal suffering. That was not a God I could love or trust. In contrast, the Arminian vision—though imperfect—pointed in the direction of a God whose character I could love.

In the end, theology isn't just about ideas. It's about the kind of God you believe in, and whether that God is worthy of your love, trust and worship. For me, the God of Christian Universalism was. The God of Calvinism was not.

When Skin Cancer Hides

The prevailing narrative around skin cancer is that it is primarily caused by prolonged exposure to ultraviolet (UV) radiation from the sun. And that, because of this, it is a condition that begins in the outermost layer of skin (the epidermis) and gradually invades deeper tissues. The standard model is that skin cancer presents as a visible lesion, irregular-shaped mole, or other suspicious marking.

But what if this model is incomplete? My own experience with skin cancer between 2014 and 2016 suggests there might be more to understand about how it behaves and how it manifests.

It all began in early 2014, when one evening I felt the onset of a stinging sensation on an area next to my nose ridge. The stinging started very subtly and got worse as the night went on. There was no sign of any lesion or raised area.

Fortunately, a year previously I had had the insight to buy a “black salve” product, having read at the time that black salve had a good track record of removing skin cancers. I was aware there was controversy surrounding black salves due to their competing with traditional skin cancer treatments, but I’ve never been one to stand on formality when it comes to my health. So I bought some, just in case I ever needed to use it.

I applied the black salve to the affected area, covered it with a plaster (band-aid) and left it on for 24 hours, as per the usage instructions. Within minutes, the stinging became much worse and the pain intensified. This lasted for about two hours, even after taking an over-the-counter painkiller.

After 24 hours, I removed the plaster and saw that the area had formed into a yellow-greenish patch. This didn’t surprise me—I had expected it. Eventually, the patch turned into an eschar (a dry, black scab-like mass) and fell off within a few days, leaving behind a cavity about the width of a little fingernail. It had gone deeper than the epidermis, reaching into the dermis or even beyond. Within a few days, the cavity closed, leaving no indication that it had even been there.

Notably, there was no reaction in the surrounding normal skin—only in the area that had been stinging. This dispels the myth that black salve destroys healthy skin.

What this suggests is that some skin cancers might grow from the bottom up, not the top down. While all skin cancers technically originate in the cells of the epidermis, they could (I argue) migrate downward early, making them harder to detect from the surface. This could be relevant in cases where there are no visible surface signs of skin cancer.

The epidermis, being devoid of nerves, wouldn’t register pain or stinging. But the dermis is full of nerve endings. So, if the cancer has invaded that layer, it might manifest not as a visible lesion, but as an internal discomfort—in my case, stinging—rather than a visual cue.

The implications are significant. If skin cancer can develop beneath apparently healthy skin, then traditional detection methods based on visual inspection might miss early-stage or deep-growing cancers. It also explains why some cancers, even after appearing to be removed from the surface, return in the same spot: they weren’t fully eradicated below.

Skin cancer might still *start* in the epidermis by textbook definition. But that doesn’t mean it stays there long. It could travel downward quickly, without leaving a surface trace.