Top 12 of CiHD: #9

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.

We’ll continue our look at the Top 12 Blog Posts at Covered in His Dust by looking at my ninth-most-viewed post of all time. It doesn’t surprise me that this post made the list, and it is one of my favorite topics to wrestle with. The post discussed the book of Hebrews and the specifics of atonement theories. You can read the post titled “HEBREWS: Atonement 101” here.

In this series, as we look at each post, I want to ask three questions: why, what, and what else? Why do I think this post got so many views; why were others drawn to it? 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?

There are two answers to this question in my mind. On one hand, this has been a growing conversation in the theological world for the last few decades. Many studied scholars, academics, and theologians have weighed in on a reexamination of the ideas that drive our understanding of atonement. This would discount voices that had been wrestling with these theories for decades before, but the larger conversation really took on a head of steam more recently. For those who could use a definition of terms here, atonement is the reparation for our sin and trespasses. It is the act of reconciliation — the explanation for how we are made right with God.

The other reason is much less academic and I mention it in passing in the original post. I think people who have been in the church for a while (or not) and are used to the theological conversation surrounding the cross and how we are forgiven by God have lots of questions about things that just never sat right with us — things that didn’t quite seem to fit. It didn’t work in our head, it didn’t work in our heart, and it seemed to betray the goodness of relationship (with God and others). Most of my observations assume(d) that my readers have their greatest exposure in the evangelical world and were exposed to an astutely articulated penal substitutionary atonement theory. If they were not raised in this world, they may not resonate with this post the same way.

WHAT DO I HOPE THEY FOUND?

As is often the case, I hope readers found an explanation of how the conversation is bigger and wider than they were ever told. The more I study the stream of orthodox Christianity, the more I come to realize that there has been far more going on in this stream than I was told. This is incredibly comforting to me and I hope it is comforting to others, as well.

I also hope they found a conversation that didn’t discount the many theories discussed. While I sought to point out the limitations of each theory, I hope such a discussion did not discount or cause a reader to reject the positive attributes that each theory brings to the table. This stands true even for me, and you’ll notice I have a theory that I struggle with the most (penal substitutionary atonement) and a theory that is my favorite (scapegoat/mimetic theory). I have certainly battled on a personal level with the idea of rejecting PSA and then embracing Girardian thought without critique. Which leads me to some recommendations…

WHAT ELSE WOULD I SAY?

I wouldn’t add much other than recommendations for further reading. One book that has really helped me in the personal struggle I describe above is a book by Scot McKnight titled A Community Called Atonement. In it, McKnight argues that all of the different theories should be seen (and used!) as a golf bag full of different clubs. Just as a golfer will pull out a different club based on the scenario, the circumstances, and the goal, so should we be prepared and willing to use different theories for different purposes. This metaphor has been very helpful and the book is very good.

I would also recommend finding anything by Rene Girard that is related to mimetic theory and atonement. It will be heady and academic, but it will have shaped more of this ongoing conversation than we realize. If you would like a summary of Girardian thought, I recommend reading The Jesus-Driven Life by Michael Hardin.

And of course, check out the books and authors I recommended in the original post. Look at the work of Greg Boyd on atonement to find a crucifixion-centric theology that reclaims a more modern form of Christus Victor. Find books by Tony Jones to examine the ideas that drive solidarity theory.

And while you study and grow, learn and wrestle, don’t ever forget that the main takeaway of any theory is that we can be made right with God. There is freedom available for anyone who would look to the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus as the most liberating moment in human 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.

Thoughts on a Week of Passion

I now reach the point of my blog series where we encounter the depth of what’s been called “Passion Week” or “Holy Week” — essentially the last week of Jesus’s life that leads up to his crucifixion.

As a teacher, I don’t like teaching on the crucifixion. And I’m not sure why, exactly.

I don’t like to make one of the most sacred and significant acts in all of human history merely an academic exercise. I don’t think there is anything wrong in dealing with the cross from an academic perspective — not at all. I am thankful for those who have and do; their studies have meant a lot to me and I cherish their work.

Maybe it’s because I have spent my whole life in the church, surrounded by the discussion that finds its center at the cross of Christ. Maybe it’s that I still find myself captivated by its story and testimony. Maybe it’s the week when I chose not to go with my parents to my grandfather’s funeral, sitting instead at a Good Friday service and weeping uncontrollably for reasons I still don’t understand. I have never cried like that in all my life. To this day, hearing the the hymn Were You There When They Crucified My Lord? will bring me to my knees.

Maybe it’s all of the above.

I don’t know why, but the gospel accounts on the crucifixion cause me to want to write poetry and speak eloquently — not talk about history.

Captivating. Thundering. Deep. Moving. Profound. Disturbing. Soothing.

These are all words that only begin to scratch the surface of what I experience on Good Friday every year, in a story that speaks volumes into my heart with words I don’t fully understand.

There are moments when I see the order of death tap out in submission to something more profound than defeat could ever be.

There are moments when I feel as though God has joined us in all of our sorrow and it is so good to have His company.

There are moments when I sense the greatest statement of love that could ever be expressed, and the truly unique, counterintuitive story of a God who would lay down His life for others.

There are moments of anger when I see the injustice and confusion at why the death is necessary…

Which leads me to thoughts about atonement and how I am so thankful that so many theologians are asking such important questions about what the Bible actually teaches on atonement. These questions are important because they reach to the core of our understanding of the heart of God. Why would He die? Why would He have to die? Did He have to die? How is any of this explained logically?

These questions are important, because as I sit in those Good Friday services, I need to understand what I am witnessing and remembering.

What am I supposed to see at the cross?

While I won’t be writing about my thoughts on atonement theory, I would recommend a couple books by Tony Jones; one is A Better Atonement, a fantastic e-book that is only three chapters long. While I have not read the other book, I do know that I am greatly looking forward to Did God Kill Jesus? There is a great conversation in theological circles these days about an appropriate understanding of atonement. How did the early Christians understand Jesus’s death on the cross (Ransom-Captive Theory)? How has atonement theory evolved over time (theories like Christus Victor)? What are the dangers we find in Substitutionary Atonment (the theory held by most evangelicals today)?

Wrestling with what I believe the Scriptures teach about atonement has done nothing but help me in being captivated by the story of the cross. It has only heightened my awareness of some of the feelings, emotions, and images that surround the crucifixion.

Needless to say, I will not be attacking the Text from the same angle as I have been through this series. I don’t like dealing with the story that way. What I will be doing is taking a look at some of the aspects of the story from an independent reference point. Here is what I hope to write about:

HOLY WEEK: The Plot to Kill Jesus

HOLY WEEK: Judas

HOLY WEEK: Peter’s Denial

HOLY WEEK: Rome

Then we’ll have a discussion on the Resurrection (where I will indeed wax eloquent) and some thoughts about The Great Commission before we dive into the book of Acts.

My prayer is that the story of the cross is as meaningful of an experience to you as it is to me — that it would speak on levels my words simply never could.