God’s Salvation Manifesto is a forceful work of Reformed theology that confronts the reader with humanity’s spiritual crisis and proclaims the gospel as the only sufficient answer, urging repentance through modern imagery and uncompromising conviction. Why was this an important book for you to write?

This book has undergone many transformations over the years. Repentance was always present in its core, but initially, I treated it as a means to reach my main point: exploring and challenging Reformed doctrine, which is something I enjoy. However, as I shared drafts with others, the theme of repentance kept resurfacing and became impossible to ignore. I also recognized that the field of Reformed doctrine is already filled with numerous excellent books, so I sought to create something distinct—a work that weaves together the centrality of repentance and the unique perspective of Reformed theology. Repentance is not just an aspect of the gospel; it is at its very heart. By focusing on this, I was able to present the gospel through the lens of Reformed doctrine, all while emphasizing the necessity of repentance.

It was important for me to write this book because, in many American evangelical churches today, repentance is often treated as optional, which could not be further from the truth. Without genuine repentance, there is no real faith. One cannot sincerely ask for Christ’s salvation while continuing to cling to sin, as if following Jesus is less appealing than holding onto old ways. This attitude reveals a deeper allegiance to darkness—the very thing Christ came to rescue us from. By emphasizing repentance, I hope to correct this misunderstanding and call readers back to the true meaning of faith and transformation. That is why this book needed to be written.

What led you to draw from films like The Matrix and Apollo 13 to communicate theological ideas?

Over the course of about a year and a half, I noticed that three different books I was reading used illustrations from The Matrix. This piqued my curiosity, so my wife and I decided to watch the movie ourselves. We were astonished at how often the film echoed deep biblical truths—so much so that we kept glancing at each other in disbelief throughout. While The Matrix is not a Christian movie, its script and imagery are saturated with themes that align closely with the gospel. This unexpected resonance is what truly captivated us.

I share the perspective of thinkers like Cornelius Van Til and Francis Schaeffer, who believed that authentic art—when it honestly seeks to tell the truth—inevitably reflects a Christian worldview. The artist does not need to set out with the intention of echoing Scripture; if the story is told with integrity, biblical themes will emerge, unless the goal is to glorify sin. In the case of The Matrix, these parallels were so unmistakable that you didn’t need to search for them—they were right there, plain to see.

Similarly, I found inspiration in Apollo 13. As I discuss in the book, the film serves as a metaphor for humanity in desperate need of rescue. The astronauts’ peril mirrors our own spiritual predicament, and Houston’s role—providing guidance and support—symbolizes the saving help God offers to those who call out in faith. Drawing from these films allowed me to communicate theological truths in ways that are vivid, relatable, and memorable.

Why was it important for this book to move from diagnosis to direct summons?

Answer: Moving from diagnosis to direct summons was crucial because the gospel is not merely an observation of humanity’s brokenness but a call to action. The Bible does not simply describe our spiritual condition—it compels us to respond. In the same way, this book goes beyond identifying the problem; it urgently invites the reader to repentance and transformation. The gospel message is inherently active: it diagnoses our need and then summons us to the only sufficient answer—turning to God in faith and repentance. Clarity and urgency are needed if lives are to be truly changed.

What kinds of resistance do you expect from readers encountering this message, and how do you respond to readers who struggle with the book’s emphasis on human incapacity?

This is a question I encounter frequently, given my Reformed perspective. It’s understandable that readers may resist the book’s emphasis on human incapacity, especially when it challenges the deeply held belief in unfettered free will. Let me clarify: Reformed theology does not deny that people make real choices every day—what to eat, what to wear, how to spend their time. What it does challenge is the notion that human will operates in total freedom, without limitation. We all recognize there are boundaries to our choices—no one can will themselves to be taller or to have a new set of natural talents overnight.

But the heart of the debate is whether a person can truly choose God on their own. The Scriptures and experience both suggest that while the offer of salvation is genuinely extended to all, people naturally pursue what they love most. The problem is that, apart from divine intervention, our affections are bent toward sin. Just as a hungry lion will always choose meat over hay, no matter how available the hay may be— because that is what lions do. It is in their nature. So too, the human heart, left to itself, will not choose God, because it is not in its nature. This is not about intelligence, morality, or effort; it is about the orientation of our desires. Only when God changes the heart do we find ourselves truly willing and able to respond to Him. I address this not to discourage, but to highlight the miracle and necessity of grace. I welcome honest questions and struggles with this message, because wrestling with it can be the beginning of deeper understanding and, ultimately, hope.

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