I had the privilege of participating in a panel discussion on Danny Olinger’s excellent biography of Geerhardus Vos at the Presbyterian Scholars Conference, held at Harbor House, Wheaton College, on October 21–22, 2025. Dr. Owen Anderson, Dr. Luke Johnston, and I each offered comments and reflections, after which Rev. Olinger responded. Below are my remarks, intended to spark further scholarly investigation.
It’s a pleasure to participate in this panel discussion revisiting Danny Olinger’s important biography, Geerhardus Vos: Reformed Biblical Theologian, Confessional Presbyterian. The book provides not only a theological account of Vos’s thought but also a rich portrait of his life—his family background, scholarly development, and ecclesiastical commitments.
What I want to do is highlight one particularly suggestive episode early in Vos’s life, and propose that it raises a larger question: Was Geerhardus Vos a Neo-Calvinist? Or should we consider him something else—perhaps a theological cousin to Abraham Kuyper and Herman Bavinck, but not one of their direct heirs?
In recent years, we’ve witnessed a significant revival of interest in Herman Bavinck. Since the first volume of his Reformed Dogmatics was published in English in 2003, Bavinck has increasingly been received as a major voice in Reformed theology. This renewed attention has contributed to a broader resurgence of interest in Neo-Calvinism particularly among younger scholars who find Kuyper and Bavinck’s vision of cultural engagement and common grace compelling.
But where does that leave Vos?
Certainly, Vos was deeply connected to Bavinck. Olinger’s biography gives ample attention to their friendship and overlapping theological instincts. But Vos’s story also takes a decisively different turn—especially in one moment that deserves attention.
In 1886, Abraham Kuyper extended an unusual offer to the 24-year-old Vos: a professorship at the Free University of Amsterdam. Kuyper was impressed by Vos’s academic brilliance, particularly his published rebuttal of higher critical views in The Mosaic Origin of the Pentateuchal Codes. But Kuyper also saw Vos as symbolically important. As the son of Jan Vos and nephew of Henricus Beuker—both respected figures among the Seceders—Geerhardus represented a potential bridge between Kuyper’s Doleantie movement and the older Seceder (Afscheiding) churches.
But Vos declined the offer. And the reasons are telling.
The pivotal figure here is Jan Vos, Geerhardus’s father, a deeply pious minister in the Seceder tradition. Jan was not impressed by Kuyper’s vision of “cultural Calvinism.” He worried that Kuyper’s program risked exposing the church to the same secularizing influences that had already eroded the established Dutch Reformed Church. Kuyper’s enthusiasm for engaging politics, journalism, and higher education was, for Jan, a red flag—a sign of potential spiritual vulnerability.
Moreover, Jan Vos was uneasy with the scientific and philosophical language that characterized the Free University. His theological instincts were shaped more by experiential piety than by academic confidence.
Instead of taking up the chair at the Free University, Vos accepted a call to teach at the Theological School in Grand Rapids, a modest and even sectarian context compared to Amsterdam.
While it’s difficult to pinpoint exactly what Geerhardus himself believed during this early period, it’s clear that Jan Vos was not a Neo-Calvinist. His ecclesiastical instincts emphasized confessional fidelity, spiritual separation, and doctrinal clarity. He viewed Kuyper’s cultural ambitions with deep suspicion. To the extent that Jan’s outlook shaped Geerhardus during this formative moment, Vos’s early posture appears more reserved, more church-centered, and far less invested in the transformational agenda of Neo-Calvinism.
This raises another question: To what extent was Vos, over the course of his career, invested in the pursuit of earthly cultural renewal at all? Consider his more mature biblical-theological work on the Psalms, developed in the early twentieth century—precisely when figures like Woodrow Wilson were articulating bold visions of Christian political engagement. Kuyper’s Neo-Calvinism was one version of this impulse; Wilsonian idealism was another. But Vos’s reading of the Psalter points in a very different direction.
For Vos, the Psalms articulate a fundamentally theocentric and heavenly-minded eschatology. They are the voice of a pilgrim people, longing not for cultural triumph in the present age, but for the consummation of God’s redemptive promises. His eschatology, also clearly evident in his sermon “Heavenly Mindedness” based on Hebrews 11:9–10, centers not on the transformation of earthly institutions but on the unfolding drama of special grace—on God’s redemptive acts in history, culminating in the new creation.
In that light, Vos’s biblical theology may not only stand apart from Kuyper’s Neo-Calvinism. It may function, at points, as a quiet protest against some of its core assumptions. Kuyper summoned Christians to reclaim “every square inch” of culture. Vos summoned Christians to lift their eyes to the heavenly Mt. Zion. That is a different kind of theological vision.
This also sharpens the contrast with Herman Bavinck. While Bavinck remained embedded in the Dutch context and clearly shared Kuyper’s cultural concerns—albeit in a more balanced way—Vos became increasingly defined by his American Presbyterian identity. His formation at Princeton, his deep commitment to the Westminster Standards, and his pastoral sensibilities all point to a different theological center of gravity.
And this raises one final factor: Did Vos’s American context itself shape the direction of his theology? It’s worth asking whether Vos’s distance—both geographic and ecclesiastical—from the Dutch scene allowed his theological instincts to develop along lines less bound to Neo-Calvinist assumptions. America offered a different set of challenges: a religious landscape marked by denominational pluralism, revivalism, and a strong emphasis on ecclesiastical identity and confessional clarity. In that environment, Vos’s redemptive-historical method and his emphasis on the pilgrim identity of the church may have emerged not only from his exegesis but from his context.
So, I ask again: Was Vos a Neo-Calvinist? Or does he belong to another trajectory—one shaped by different theological commitments and a different cultural situation altogether? And more provocatively: If Bavinck is undergoing a renaissance among younger Reformed thinkers today, is it time to rediscover Vos—not simply as a biblical theologian, but as a distinctively American Presbyterian theologian? What might Vos’s covenantal, redemptive-historical, and heavenly-minded theology offer to a generation eager to engage the culture but uncertain of the church’s identity within it?
