Top 12 of CiHD: #1

For a summary of what I’m hoping to accomplish in this blog series (the first week of every month of 2018), I recommend reviewing my explanation here.

This is it! We’ve travelled this 2018 path of the Top 12 Blog Posts at Covered in His Dust and we have arrived at the end of our list — the most viewed post in my blog’s history. The winner of this title is the blog I wrote on the Resurrection back at the end of August 2015. The post was titled “Empty” and you can read the original post here.

So, for one last time, let’s remember what I’ll try to do.

In this series, as we look at each post, I want to ask three questions: why, what, and what else? Why do I think these posts got so many views; why were others drawn to them? What do I hope people found when they got here; what do I hope they heard? Finally, what else have I learned about this; what else would I say about these ideas?

WHY THIS POST?

Well, if you would have asked me about which post I had hoped would get the most views, it would have been this one. I am a big believer that the most important truth, the most profound reality, the pinnacle of all theology and of the Kingdom is the resurrection. There are many theologians who talk about the crucifixion as being the most central to theology, that everything revolves around the work of Jesus on the cross. Many of these theologians are men and women I respect very deeply. But I respectfully disagree.

The apostle Paul did not say that without the crucifixion, our faith is in vain. No, he said that without the resurrection, our faith is in vain. That’s a strong assertion to make and it drives my theology.

Having said that, I wonder if there are other reasons the page views were driven up. I don’t feel like it was one of my best written posts. Are people that driven and interested in the resurrection? That hasn’t been my experience, typically. I can’t seem to find any unique or unusual words or phrases that would have caught some other Google search. Did people think I was posting about how I was feeling empty and so they were driven to click in and read? That could be.

WHAT DO I HOPE THEY FOUND?

Well, the truth and power of the resurrection is really, in a lot of ways, a mystery. Part of the reason we don’t get more excited about it is because there is so much about it that we don’t understand. Much of the last century has been misdirected in simply trying to prove the historicity of the event. This is a shame, as the power of resurrection doesn’t lie in intellectually proving that it happened. No, the power of the resurrection lies in realizing what it means for our daily walks, trusting that great truth to be real, and leaning into the consequences.

Even I struggled (then and now) to write about the resurrection in such a way that captures the power of this great truth. To that end, I recommend a great book called Surprised by Hope by NT Wright. It does a good job of talking about the resurrection in a western way that helps us capture some of the applicable ramifications of the resurrection.

WHAT ELSE WOULD I SAY?

I would talk about the power of hope.

The story of God’s people, all the way back to the story of Abram, is a story about hope. It’s a story about people who believe there is more going on — that more is possible than simply the concrete thing we experience in the Order of Brokenness. This reality is deeper and greater than a battle between optimism and pessimism. This isn’t about whether or not the glass is half-full or half-empty.

This is about whether or not you believe the glass was meant to be full — and, no matter what happens, will be full again.

The resurrection is about what you fundamentally believe is true about the world. What is the truest true? What is the realest real? What is the thing that if you burned away all of the dross, would remain? Does love win? Does life end in death? Or is death not really an end? And no, I’m not just talking about what happens when we die. I’m talking about the true order of things.

Here. Now. When we are alive.

When the Order of Death rears its ugly head, is it a roar of triumph, or is it the gasping and grasping of a creature whose days are numbered?

When you encounter greed and selfishness, are you dismayed? Or are you grounded — as a Child of the Resurrection — in a truth that what you are looking at is a fleeting shadow? And does this change the way you live?

It should. It should make us more selfless. More generous. It should make us better priests. It should prepare us for Kingdom, making us conduits of God’s redeeming work. It should rid us of fear and equip us to lay our lives down — because we understand that there really is no way to lose our life.

Maybe this is the reason the Rabbi said the only way to save your life is to lose it.

CHURCH HISTORY: AD 500 thru AD 700

NB: For readers who missed it, I suggest going back to review my setup to this section on church history to know about my disclaimers. For the graphics used in this post, the timelines are not to scale, and the dates represented are not intended to be exact. They are meant to be visual aids for understanding the larger conversation.

So this (mostly) Gentile Christian empire finishes their councils, and Rome falls. The Roman Empire shifts from an imperial political state to what some would call the “Holy Roman Empire” and a[n imperial] religious state. To be sure, all of these labels are unfair to use, since the ancient world knew nothing about the separation of church and state, and to insinuate that the Roman empire of the Caesars was not religious would be ludicrous. However, I hope the reader understands my point: we shift from Emperors to Popes, from Rome to Christendom.

This newly established kingdom, often referred to as the Byzantine Empire, played its role in the history and growth of Christianity. It indeed had some bright, shining moments, but none of this could cover up some of the darker problems of the era.

Toward the beginning of Byzantine history, Justinian expanded their rule to its largest extent in history. This chapter is full of dark stories of Christian faith combined with the empire’s sword. People were forced to affirm holy creeds and Christian doctrines. If they did not, they were offered the opportunity to convert. If they refused, they were persecuted, sanctioned, or even executed. Christianity’s anti-semitic history continued in this era; there were corners (sometimes very large corners) of the empire where we would beat or kill Jews who did not affirm the doctrine of the Trinity.

How things change when you find yourself at the handle end of the sword.

We could (and maybe should) go on and on about this, but that paragraph will serve to sum up the darker chapters of this history for now. There were also some important developments in the Christian faith, sometimes connected and sometimes disconnected from the imperial efforts of the Byzantines.

Again, since we had cut the Christian faith away from from our Jewish heritage, we lost contact with a faith — and more importantly a practice — that had defined God’s people for centuries and centuries. Having spent over a century perfecting our doctrine and theology (something Gentiles have been very, very concerned with) and focusing on orthodoxy (right belief), we now needed to ask questions about orthopraxy (right practice).

Since Gentile Christians did not believe in following Torah, they were missing the “playbook” on what it meant to walk the path of faith. (In fact, Augustine had written a horrible edict commanding the African Christians not to even entertain Jewish relationships. He penned a seven-point document that forbade doing business with Jews and lighting candles for Sabbath, in addition to commanding the consumption of ham on Easter, etc.)

In this setting, the monastic movements shined. While many flippantly critique the monastic movements as being secluded and isolated (somewhat reminiscent of the Essenes), we owe much of what is good in our Christian faith to their faithfulness. They were committed to trying to preserve the physical Text, becoming people of service (they continued the work of what we would call hospitals and clinics), and being devoted to their faith. When we needed to know what it meant to create space for God in this new world, these movements helped many spiritually blind folks see. They were experts in prayer and discipline, corporate spiritual practices, and service. Because they struggled with isolationism, great thinkers like Gregory of Nissa and Basil taught some very important things about community.

As history turned the corner into the seventh century, Gregory the Great (who would be the pope) came along and became what some have referred to as the father of medieval spirituality. Gregory brought the world of Christendom its first large-scale taste of liturgy (church order) through things like Gregorian Chant and a public, corporate practice of worship — many elements of which can still be found in Catholic mass today.

While there are always ways to look at history through overly rosy lenses or overly critical lenses, it’s important to note the things this era brought us. Unfortunately, this period of history did very, very little to undo the imperial abuses of Christian freedom; in fact, quite to the contrary, they only systematized the chronic power struggle that had (and would) ruin the trajectory of our Christian story.

However, the next century would be spent learning to create space for a God we (maybe) largely misunderstood. I am a firm believer that this allowed God to continue to work through the story of Christianity, in spite of itself. As God told the Hebrews in the Tanakh more than once, there is always a remnant. There will always be a group of people who are trying to follow the Creator to the absolute best of their ability. And because of that — be them Jews, Christians, or pagans — God will always be looking for partners.

But we will continue to have a hard time getting along, and it won’t be long before we find more problems to argue about in our next chapter of history.

HEBREWS: Atonement 101

There’s one last conversation I would like to put on the table before we jettison the book of Hebrews: atonement. 

For many, the theology of atonement isn’t one that bothers them; they aren’t even aware there’s a “conversation” about it, and I hesitate to bring it up at all. But then I’m reminded of the other folks who have serious questions and I remember the importance and need to bring questions to the table. I know that years ago, I would have said atonement is at least the one thing all believers in Jesus understand clearly and believe in, but I have since come to realize this isn’t the case.

And I’m glad.

I’m glad because as I’ve continued to study the Bible and theology, I have found the way we talk about atonement alarming at times, to say the least. I was once in a church service where the teacher was telling a story about how his daughter had recently been harassed by a man at her workplace. Week after week, this person would make her uncomfortable and she would take great measures to avoid him. On a family excursion out of town, coincidentally, they ran into the individual at a department store. The preacher explained how he put his daughter behind him and stood in front of her, shielding her from the individual’s view, so when he came around the corner he didn’t see the daughter, but the larger, more intimidating dad. The preacher then said, “That’s what Jesus does for you. When God looks at you, He doesn’t see you. He sees Jesus standing in front of you.”

My mouth dropped open as I realized he had just allegorically equated God the Father to a sociopathic predator, and the room nodded in agreement, muttering soft “amens” and “hallelujahs” under their breath.

That is disturbing theology.

But I’m thankful for the conversation, because I had very similar questions about my understanding of atonement when I was growing up. Logically speaking, isn’t this where evangelical theology has to land? It was liberating to find the conversation surrounding atonement is much bigger than I was aware.

I bring this up in the book of Hebrews because Hebrews is the book in the New Testament that speaks directly to and about atonement. I find it ironic that we go to the book of Romans to explain our evangelical understanding of atonement — a book that doesn’t speak directly to atonement at all. As we learned with our time in Romans, the book is about justification, not atonement. Especially from the Jewish perspective of the New Testament and its authors, these are two wildly different conversations (even though the two ideas are directly linked in evangelical circles).

I will give a very quick overview of the different theologies of atonement that have shaped Christianity over the last 2,000 years. I will not resolve the conversation, for this is not what I believe is most helpful; I will simply point out that there is a conversation. I should also say there are other resources that will do what I am about to do much better than I will. There is a short (three chapters) e-book by Tony Jones, A Better Atonement: Beyond the Depraved Doctrine of Original Sin, that does a wonderful job explaining the conversation in a way that helps one understand the basics. He has written another book titled Did God Kill Jesus? that deals with the subject matter.

At any rate, one of the oldest theologies of atonement is the idea of Ransom-Captive theology. This idea is more poetic in its theology than mechanical. It espoused the idea that Satan had held the world captive to sin. He was willing to make a deal with God that if He would give Jesus as a ransom payment, Satan would let God’s children go. God agrees, handing over Jesus, who is crucified; Jesus then rises from the dead, leaving Satan empty handed. One might recognize this theology as playing a part in The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis.

The problems with this theory are multifaceted. To name just a couple, it puts the power in the hands of Satan and makes God out to be a deceiving hustler. Centuries later, this theory had run its course and needed to be replaced.

This led to the idea of Christus Victor. For the next handful of centuries, Christians held to the idea that Jesus came to conquer the realm of sin and death. There was the Order of Death that had reign and influence in this world, and Christ’s death and resurrection defeated this order and ushered in the Order of Life. This theory of atonement has recently made a comeback, with a repainting of the old understandings; theologians like Greg Boyd promote this reclaimed understanding of Christus Victor.

The problem with this theory is that it doesn’t have a mechanical explanation for the atonement of personal sin; while it explains the meta-narrative of two kingdoms and the struggle of light and darkness, it doesn’t actually explain how my mistakes are atoned for. It’s worth noting that the theories of atonement are largely driven by the historical context of their inception. Ransom-Captive appears on the scene of a persecuted church, being held captive by powerful enemies and needing to be liberated. Christus Victor is developed during the period of imperial conquest and the Crusades.

That will help us understand the construction of the atonement theory many of us were raised with, known as penal substitutionary atonement. The idea here is that because of your sin, death is demanded. God loves you too much to let you die, so He sends Jesus into the world to die as your substitute. In this way, the penal demand for death is satisfied and your acceptance of this gift is your ticket to atonement and eternal life. It should be worth noting that this understanding of atonement was explained during the days of the Reformation, in a new world of contracts and legal documents — a world that didn’t exist before that era. Theologians like John Calvin were lawyers who took their knowledge of legal matters and applied it to their theology.

The problem with this theory (in addition to what it does to our understanding of the Trinity as referenced above) is that it suggests God is bound by a non-existent court and a rule book that must be superior to Himself. The true freedom of God is not maintained; He is forced to do certain things in certain ways.

Other theories have been at play, and most of us have simply been unaware of those. The rise of textual criticism, secularism, and liberal theology toward the beginning of the twentieth century led to moral exemplar theory, an idea that said Jesus’s death on the cross was the ultimate example of the self-sacrificial ethic Jesus spent his whole life teaching. These theologians say Jesus’s teaching and life demanded he would lay his own life down on behalf of others, in order to take down corrupt systems of religious oppression. For many of us, this theory stops far too short and has a slightly hollow ring to it.

Another theory, espoused by Jones in the books mentioned above, is solidarity theory. This idea is that God took on flesh in the incarnation and walked among us to join humanity in the greatest movement of solidarity we have ever seen. Jesus came to sweat our sweat, taste our food, cry our tears, bleed our blood, and ultimately die our death.

And yet another theory tries to see atonement through a more Hebraic lens (obviously, my personal favorite). Scapegoat theory was proposed by the late theologian Rene Girard. I believe the world of theology will look back fifty years from now and realize the understated impact Girard’s theology will have on evangelicalism and Christendom as a whole. Scapegoat theory states that Jesus’s death served as the ultimate sacrifice, just as the scapegoat did in the Levitical system. The scapegoat was given as a representation of the forgiveness of God and the removal of your sin, so Jesus was offered “at the culmination of the ages… once for all time” for the cleansing of your conscience. No longer do we have to offer an annual scapegoat, for this sacrifice of God Himself is good for all of eternity to accomplish what the blood of bulls and goats could never do.

I say all of this (again, with no intent of resolution) for a few reasons:

First, simply for theological awareness. While such knowledge will frustrate many — who like their clean boxes and clear answers — it will also liberate others to know that their questions are valid.

Second, because I’m not so sure there is a “right” theology of atonement. I am starting to believe each theory of atonement has a way of explaining a piece of the mystery that is the love of God and the death of Jesus on the cross. The poetry of Ransom-Captive is still moving to this day. The victory of Christus Victor is an annual part of my personal celebration of an empty tomb, and I’m not sure I could understand the resurrection without it. I believe Christ’s death is an example of what self-sacrificial living looks like, just as the moral exemplar theory explains. I believe the mystery of the incarnation is that Jesus came to stand in solidarity with all humanity. And even though we are living toward the end of the age of penal substitutionary atonement — a theory I believe has run its course and has led to some horribly destructive theology — I believe there is good truth in the theory and history will look back on it and its ability to communicate great theology when used correctly.

Third, I believe the above paragraph to be true because the book of Hebrews, the book on atonement, seems to portray all of those theories, as well. Hebrews says early in the letter that Christ offered his life as a ransom (Ransom-Captive). It speaks of Jesus triumphing over death and scorning the shame of the cross (Christus Victor). It speaks of Jesus serving as our example, showing us how to suffer so we might be brought to glory (moral exemplar). It speaks of God offering His Son for our sin (penal substitutionary atonement). It references multiple times the idea that Christ would join humanity in our suffering, being tempted in every way, and experiencing our humanity so he could serve as our great High Priest (solidarity). Finally, the book of Hebrews is consistent with its use of scapegoat theory and the idea, over and over again, that the sacrifice of Jesus is able to clean our conscience — something the blood of bulls and goats could never do.

We may spend the rest of our lives trying to understand the mystery of atonement and God’s love for us, in spite of our sin. But I’m not sure that would be all that bad.

Empty

It’s the greatest event in all of human history.

There are great debates that take place over the nature of Christology. If one were to think about Jesus’s life in the realm of incarnation, crucifixion, and resurrection, some of my favorite modern theologians have great thoughts surrounding which might be the most significant. Yes, I can hear you groaning and wondering out loud, “Aren’t they all significant?” Yes, they are. And yet our theology is shaped by which of these three we view it through.

Much of evangelical Christianity clings to the idea of substitutionary atonement (in short, that Jesus died your death; more on this later in our series), and in this, the obvious conclusion is in the work of the crucifixion. While an obvious conclusion for followers of this theory of atonement, it raises very important Christological questions about the life of Jesus, let alone the resurrection. If “dying was his reason for living” (a claim made by Mel Gibson in The Passion of the Christ), then was everything else just “filler”? Was the resurrection just a neat magic trick at the end to say, “Tah Dah! Look, I really AM God!”

Greg Boyd, one of my favorite thinkers, loves to argue for the preeminence and centrality of the crucifixion. His idea is that God, His plan and His nature, is revealed perfectly through the work of the cross. Everything we see in the world of theology should be seen through the lens of the crucifixion. I have had some good-natured banters with Boyd on Twitter over this idea. Another of my favorite thinkers, and one of Boyd’s good theologian friends, Tony Jones, comes from the school of what I will call “solidarity Christology,” and loves to raise points about the preeminence of the incarnation. There is an idea that God came to join us in solidarity. He came to join the struggle — the cross being the ultimate end to that work of solidarity. It is the idea of God joining us that drives theology.

I, however, like to believe in the preeminence of the resurrection.

Since the very beginning of this story of God, we have been in an intense and vivid struggle between empire and shalom — between falsehood and truth. We have experienced the struggle between two orders: the Order of Death and the Order of Life. We know these two orders well.

The Order of Death: Cancer, greed, adultery, selfishness, disease, disasters, corruption, fear, and the like.

The Order of Life: Love, mercy, forgiveness, hope, joy, healing, redemption, second chances, and the like.

Since the very beginning we have found ourselves in the tension between which order is most true, or which order gets the last word in the end. And as we look at the world around us, it would seem that the Order of Death is winning. It would seem that cancer has taken far too many family members, the greedy are the ones with all the power, disaster cannot be thwarted, and death ultimately wins.

I mean, what is more finite than death? What is more real than the idea that in the end, you die?

In the beginning, we are invited to trust the story. At its core, the invitation of Genesis was an invitation to believe in the reality of the Order of Life. The great fall of humanity happened (and happens) because we choose to live in fear, insecurity, and doubt. We begin to see the wind and waves and believe that in fact, the Order of Death does get the last word. 

And all throughout Tanakh, we are posed this question. Moses set before the people in Deuteronomy life and death. Joshua invited the Israelites to follow Adonai, and if not, pick whichever gods from the Order of Death they would choose. The prophets pleaded with their brothers and sisters to repent and put their trust back in the Order of Life.

Ezekiel was asked about hope, about death, and about life. He was shown a valley full of dry bones and asked, “Can these bones live?”

Ezekiel was a man of hope. “Sovereign LORD, only you know.”

What do we truly believe about life and death?

Understand that the resurrection changes everything. On that fateful morning when the tomb was found barren and empty, God finally answered the question that He had allowed only Ezekiel to see in a vision.

Apparently, death isn’t as real as we thought it was. And that changes everything.

Paul does not say in the fifteenth chapter of his first letter to the Corinthians that without the crucifixion, their faith is in vain. As enamored as he and the other authors of the New Testament were with the incarnation (an incredible truth!), he did not give such an idea the place either. Instead, Paul says the following: 

But if it is preached that Christ has been raised from the dead, how can some of you say that there is no resurrection of the dead? If there is no resurrection of the dead, then not even Christ has been raised. And if Christ has not been raised, our preaching is useless and so is your faith.

I have stood in a lot of tombs during my time in Israel. I have stood in a few that claim (directly or indirectly) to be THE tomb. There is one thing that is true about all of them. They are empty.

Resurrection is God’s affirmation that the Order of Life really does get the last word. The way of generosity really is the best way to live. Forgiveness is worth paying the price for, and love really does win.

Resurrection is God’s way of saying hope is worth it, and the story really can be trusted.

I choose to be a person of hope.

He is not here. He is risen.