Last Tuesday, while rummaging through my old emails, I found a message from a friend I used to do ministry with. Memories of endless coffee refills and late-night debates about faith flooded back—but this time, a pit formed in my stomach. His life had veered wildly off course, leaving his community and faith behind. The question hit me: Can someone who once burned bright for Christ actually lose their salvation? I’ll admit, this isn’t just a theological exercise. It’s personal—and maybe, it’s personal for you too.

 

When Personal Stories Collide with Scripture: Why This Debate Still Matters

I want to share something that has shaken me to my core. A friend from Chicago—someone I did ministry with from 2009 to 2011—recently announced on Instagram that he’s left his wife and two kids to live with another man. He says he’s no longer a Christian.

Here’s what makes this so devastating: I was more confident that this guy loved Jesus more than I love Jesus. I was more certain of his salvation than my own. He seemed more committed to God’s mission than I was.

The trajectory was gradual. He started questioning Christian doctrines, then began neglecting fellowship with other believers. When COVID hit, the impact of COVID on church engagement became clear—it made it easy for him to disconnect from church entirely. He never reconnected after that.

This isn’t just theological theory anymore. The once saved, always saved debate suddenly feels urgent when it’s your friend’s soul at stake. The spiritual consequences of abandoning faith ripple through entire families. His wife and kids are heartbroken.

As someone providing pastoral care for doubting faith, I’ve had to grapple with this question all over again: Can genuine Christians lose their salvation? The pandemic intensified spiritual isolation for many believers, making these concerns more pressing than ever.

The pain is real. The stakes are eternal. And the questions feel messier than any textbook answer.

 

Framing the Question: Two Camps and Centuries of Debate

The once saved, always saved debate has sparked passionate discussions among Christians for over three hundred years. While echoes of this theological tension stretch back two thousand years through church history, the intensity around this particular question has been especially acute in recent centuries.

At its core, the eternal security debate asks: Can Christians lose salvation? This question divides believers into two primary camps, each containing faithful Christians who genuinely love God and Scripture.

Group One argues that genuine Christians can indeed forfeit their salvation. They believe a true believer who later abandons faith—someone who would have gone to heaven had they died while still believing—now faces God’s wrath because of their unbelief.

Group Two maintains that genuine Christians cannot lose salvation. They argue that anyone who walks away was never truly saved to begin with. Despite appearing convincing for years, seeds of doubt always existed in their hearts.

This isn’t merely academic theology. The can Christians lose salvation question shapes how we view assurance, treat doubters, and understand God’s character. It reflects the deeper tension between divine sovereignty and human responsibility that has challenged Christian thought for centuries.

I believe there are faithful Christians on both sides of the debate. Those who love God, who love the Bible, who genuinely love Jesus with all their hearts, who disagree on this issue. And that’s okay.

 

The Heart-Stopping Warning: Reading Hebrews 6… with All Its Bumps

When it comes to Hebrews 6 interpretation, few passages make Christians more uncomfortable than verses 4-6. I’ll be honest—even with years of theological training, this text still makes my hands sweat a little.

“For it is impossible, in the case of those who have once been enlightened… and then have fallen away, to restore them again to repentance.”

The language here is vivid and unsettling. We’re talking about people who were “enlightened,” who “tasted the heavenly gift,” and “shared in the Holy Spirit.” These aren’t casual church visitors—the description suggests profound spiritual experiences. Yet somehow, they fall away completely.

This is where the apostasy and salvation debate gets intense. Group 1 reads this as clear proof that genuine believers can lose their salvation. To them, Hebrews 6:4-6 meaning is straightforward: real Christians can walk away and face eternal consequences.

Group 2 pushes back hard. They argue these folks got incredibly close to faith—tasted it, experienced it—but never truly internalized salvation. They were near-misses, not genuine believers.

The “impossible” part? That’s what keeps me up at night sometimes. Whether you’re in Group 1 or 2, this passage serves as a sobering warning. It’s humbling, regardless of your theological camp, reminding us that faith isn’t something to treat casually.

 

Thorns, Thistles, and the Real Fruits of Faith

Hebrews 6:7-8 presents a jarring farming metaphor that cuts right to the heart of genuine salvation. Picture this: rain falls equally on multiple plots of land. At first, everything looks promising—greenery sprouting, activity everywhere, signs of life flourishing. But here’s the shocking twist: some plots eventually produce valuable crops while others yield only thorns and thistles.

When you’re interpreting Hebrew 6, this is the illustration I want you to think about. This thorns and thistles metaphor exposes an uncomfortable truth about faith. Not all spiritual “greenery” indicates healthy growth. I learned this the hard way during a season when I thought my spiritual progress was rock-solid. Everything looked good on the surface—church attendance, Bible reading, even leading small groups. Then cynicism crept in for weeks, revealing how shallow my roots actually ran.

Genuine salvation is evidenced by spiritual fruit and ongoing faith. But what does genuine salvation fruit look like in daily life? Real joy during hardship. Authentic repentance when we mess up. Actual character change—not just Sunday performance. The signs of genuine salvation aren’t always obvious. Some people blend seamlessly into church culture for years without producing real spiritual fruit. Meanwhile, others who appear to struggle might be experiencing the deep root work that eventually yields a harvest worth celebrating.

 

Living with the Tension: Why Faith, Doubt, and Grace Belong Together

As I’ve been thinking about my friend in Chicago who’s been avoiding my calls, I keep coming back to this truth: pastoral care for doubting faith requires more than having the right answers. When someone you care about walks away from everything they once believed, the urge to fix it immediately is overwhelming. Sometimes I imagine buying a plane ticket and just showing up—not knowing what I’d say until I got there.

Here’s what I’ve learned through years of ministry: both sides of the salvation debate want the same thing—to take sin and Jesus seriously. Whether you believe in eternal security or conditional salvation, we’re all trying to understand how grace through faith actually works in messy, real-life situations.

It’s okay to be friends with people who disagree with you. Can I get an amen? Christian faith assurance comes from recognizing salvation as God’s gift and seeing spiritual fruit in our lives. But what happens when that fruit seems absent in someone we love? The pandemic has made these questions even more urgent as people drift from church communities.

Grace isn’t about winning theological debates—it’s about sticking with people when faith gets complicated. We can show compassion to those struggling with belief, even when we disagree with their conclusions. Real friendships persist through sharp theological differences.

Sometimes the most pastoral thing we can do is simply stay present, check our own spiritual fruit, and remember our capacity to drift or return.

Faith can be mysterious, messy, and sometimes scary, especially when friends walk away. While scholars still argue whether Christians can actually lose salvation, Hebrews 6 urges us to check our own hearts, extend grace to those doubting, and keep wrestling with faith in a community that’s honest and compassionate.