What did Jesus' Death Accomplish?

As much of the Christian Church begins Holy Week (our Orthodox sisters and brothers will not celebrate Easter this year until May 5), the topic of atonement returns to the forefront of my mind. I don't regularly ponder this, but over the past year I have revisited much of my theology, questioning and examining it in light of my experience and learning over the past several years. I find that in some places my theology no longer fits as it once did. In places it pinches, in others it is too baggy. Some spots now appear threadbare. The time has come to refresh this theological garment.

When I last seriously considered my theology I was in my mid-twenties, with no children, attending seminary classes part-time while living and working in a medium sized American city. Since that time a lot of water has flown under the bridge. I have experienced new cultures. I have walked through many joys and sorrows. I have seen two children born and grow into their teen years. I have found and embraced feminism as a key element of my worldview. I have returned home from years of cross-cultural living feeling defeated and deeply wounded. I don't see the world and I don't see God in the same way that I did some twenty years ago.

Rarely do Christians stop and consider the act we refer to theologically as “atonement.” We understand and affirm that in his life, death and resurrection Jesus Christ altered the fundamental relationship between God and humanity. But how, exactly, did he accomplish this? To phrase the question in other terms, why exactly did Jesus have to die? Could God have altered the divine-human relationship in another manner? Thomas Oden, in the second volume of this systematic theology trilogy The Word of Life, provides a nice, relatively concise, summary of four key streams of thought among Christians concerning this question. He labels these four motifs as:

The Exemplar or Moral Influence Motif

The Rector or Moral Governance Motif

The Exchange or Satisfaction Motif

The Victor or Dramatic Motif

The Christian traditions in which I have spent most of my life have overwhelmingly embraced the exchange or satisfaction motif. In this motif, the death of Christ serves as penal substitution for human sin. It satisfies God's holiness. Oden writes: “It is in keeping with God's justice that sin not be cheaply remitted, but must be punished, or some satisfaction offered. Since sin is an infinite offense against diving holiness, the satisfaction for sin must be infinite. Either satisfaction or punishment was required by God's very nature.” This motif comes through regularly, although perhaps without our explicitly recognizing it, in many popular Christian songs that speak of the blood of Jesus cleansing us of sin.

One can find support for this motif in certain passages of Scripture, but I have come to question whether this view sufficiently describes the need for and enactment of atonement in Christ's death. This motif seems to emphasize a divine, angry, judgmental God who must have “his pound of flesh” but out of mercy directs this wrath upon his own son. As Oden writes in pointing out objections to this motif: “Too much is made of the divine majesty being offended, neglecting the fact that God can show mercy and forgiveness without harming his honor or majesty.” The emphasis on blood, on satisfaction of righteousness, on paying a debt through the sacrifice of another seems to run contrary to the idea of God as loving and merciful Creator. Again, I do not deny that certain passages in Scripture use this language and we must somehow account for it in our understanding of the divine-human relationship. But if we hold primarily or exclusively to this motif, do we adequately or, perhaps more importantly, appropriately capture the nature of atonement? At the same time, does my hesitancy to affirm this teaching arise from an inadequate appreciation of God's holiness?

I appreciate Oden's volume of systematic theology because, unlike many Protestant systematic theologies, he doesn't insist on a single understanding of the atonement. He asserts the need to hold all four motifs in tension. (Due to space I am not going to explore all of the motifs here.) The evangelical Protestant American churches that I have been a part of in my life rarely did so, at least not explicitly. I find myself looking for an atonement theory that deemphasizes wrath, judgment, violence and punishment and that emphasizes love, mercy, reconciliation and restoration. I cannot say that I have yet come to an adequate understanding. This threadbare part of my theological garment remains under repair.

Although Oden does a good job of looking back to the church fathers in his review of Christian theology, I wonder if he adequately examines traditions outside of Protestantism. I would be very curious to know how the Roman Catholic Church and the Orthodox Church understand atonement in light of their whole theologies. I would gladly hear from someone who could enlighten me in this area. Even within the Protestant church traditions, I would love to learn more from someone whose church emphasizes something other than penal substitution, whether their understanding fits within the four motifs offered by Oden or not. I wonder in particular how the Quaker (or Friends, to refer to them in their own terms) tradition understands the death of Christ.

Ultimately I am able to live with ambiguity in this area because I recognize that, however it is understood, the basic reality remains that in his death and resurrection Jesus Christ did fundamentally transform the relationship between God and humanity. Somehow, in the cross-event and the resurrection event, we now have the opportunity to be restored to what God created us to be, and not only as humans. In the death and resurrection of Christ God has initiated (and culminated in some sense) the renewal and restoration of creation. The power of evil has been broken. The world need not remain enslaved to it. There can be no better news, however we understand this to have been accomplished.

Today in worship we sang a new-to-me song that captures well the victory of Jesus that we celebrate in particular this week:

Sing to the King who is coming to reign

Glory to Jesus, the Lamb that was slain

Life and salvation His empire shall bring

and joy to the nations, when Jesus is king

How do you understand the death of Jesus Christ? Are there ways in which the way you have traditionally understood atonement that now pinch or are threadbare?

No Longer Ashamed

On Thursday I watched in distress as “my” team, the German national football team, went down in agonizing defeat to the Italians in the UEFA Euro 2012 tournament. Although disappointed, I managed to make it through the remainder of the day and the following day without suffering severe emotional distress. There was a time when this would not have been the case – when a loss by a team I supported would make me irritable and cross for a day or more. Not only did seeing my team lose used to cause me anguish, I really hated the stigma of having sided with a loser. I didn't want to have to face even casual ribbing at the hands of those who supported the winning side. So often I would keep any allegiances I had to myself. That way I could at least avoid any negative treatment from those on “the other side.”

This behaviour extended not only to sports, but to most areas of life. For most of my life I have hesitated to openly take stands on issues for fear that I might offend someone. I want people to like me and I have always worried that in expressing an opinion someone disagrees with I will also incur their rejection of me as a person. I also feared committing myself to a cause or idea lest in the end it should fail to “win,” in whatever sense that might be understood. I have kept my opinions to myself in order that I would be likeable and in order to avoid conflict with others. Not any more.

I do not want to remain silent any longer. I do not want to live in fear of what others might think of me. I do not want to avoid expressing opinions and supporting people and causes because doing so might cause someone else offense. Yes, I want to be tactful and civil in my discourse, but I am learning to overcome my fear of rejection. As I reach midlife I am finally understanding that my identity and my worth do not rest in what others think of me. I do not require their approval. Some issues and causes are worth standing up for; too important for me to remain silent. I'm learning to listen to the voices of those outside the circles of power. I'm raising my voice in concert with those whose voices have been silenced far too long. I'm not the solution. I'm not a superhero who is going to single-handedly solve all the world's problems. But I can take a stand for those things I believe in and let myself be counted – even if it makes me unpopular in certain circles, even if it means I will be misunderstood and possibly even rejected.

Of course this isn't really about football or any other sport – although I apply it there as well in a willingness to affiliate myself with particular teams or athletes that I admire, regardless of their stature in others' eyes. Far more importantly it applies to speaking out and acting against injustice. For me it means standing up for the equality and dignity of women and others who have been silenced by society for too long. It means speaking out in favor of sustainable living and taking care of the creation God gave us. It means taking a stand on the side of immigrants and seeing them as fellow humans, and affirming actions that support and enhance the well-being of society's weakest and poorest. It means raising my questions about theology and Scripture and a host of issues related to the Church, no longer quietly acquiescing to the viewpoints of those around me.

I guess I've become an activist of sorts. I will use my voice and my words to advocate for those things I believe in, regardless of how others respond. I don't want to remain silent and in fear any longer. I don't want to live for the approval of others. I've done that for too long.

I'm okay with Germany's loss on Thursday. I'm learning to take a stand and not be ashamed.

Faith, Failure and Freedom

I think I can safely say that every parent has dreams and hopes for their children. I certainly do. For Christians (and probably for followers of other religions), one of those hopes is that our children will grow to accept and walk in the faith that we profess. We take our kids to Sunday School and to youth programs, send them to summer camps and engage in conversations about faith around the home so that they will hear the stories of the Bible and embrace the Gospel message. We try in various ways to lay the foundation of faith, hoping that our children will acknowledge, accept and choose to build on this foundation. Some try to accomplish this more through a form of indoctrination. Some think they have succeeded when their child prays a “sinner's prayer.” Others try to pass on faith through their life, sharing with their children the stories of Scripture as well as the stories of their own journey of faith.

Unfortunately, sometimes (often?) our dreams and hopes for our children are not realized. Sometimes they are not realized in small ways. Other times the gap between reality and our dreams can be quite large. At this point in my life, I face a large gap in regard to my hopes for my teenage daughter. She has made it clear to her mother and I that she does not consider herself to be a Christian. She acknowledges the existence of God but believes that he either doesn't care about people or that he doesn't demonstrate it very well. These are hard words to hear from one's own child. Even harder to hear are her struggles with how to live consistently with her current beliefs. Her parents work with a particular Christian ministry and everyone in our home church knows this. She recognizes that it might be awkward for her parents if she expresses her doubts and disbelief around others from our church. She doesn't want to create problems for us, but her efforts to avoid this leave her feeling like she lacks integrity. We continue to insist that she accompany us to worship on Sunday because we believe it is true and important, but this places her in the difficult position of feeling like a hypocrite.

Her mother and I have both had conversations with her about this. We have not sought to convince her of the correctness or truth of the Gospel. She knows the stories and the Gospel message well enough. She's been in Christian schools, churches and circles all her life. She doesn't need more indoctrination. She needs someone who will accept and affirm her as she is now, where she is now. Her mother and I are trying very hard to give her this. Now that we are more aware of her feeling of being a hypocrite, we have expressed to her that she should freely acknowledge her current beliefs and doubts and questions, even in the church community. We are capable of dealing with the questions and even possible rejection that may arise as a result. We would rather our daughter be sincere about where she's at then place her in a duplicitous position just so we can present a shining example of Christian family. We hope we have communicated clearly to her that in our family there is freedom to question, doubt, even disbelief and still find acceptance and love.

I often feel frustrated by the posts I see on Facebook of various Christian families we know. I am not accusing any of them of lying, because I don't know the internal lives of their families well enough. But so many posts I read seem to present the particular family in the best possible light, as paragons of Christian virtue. Maybe they are. However, I think that within Christian subculture, particularly evangelical subculture, we create intentionally or unintentionally the pressure to present ourselves as better than we really are. We feel subtle or even overt pressure to have the perfect Christian family with children who love nothing more than to get up in front of the church and sing “Jesus loves me.” Thank God for those whose children really do enjoy that. Mine would die of mortification at the thought—and would be hypocritical to boot. Sometimes I wish I had one of these ideal Christian families. Then I realize that I'd rather have a family where we can struggle openly and honestly with our doubts, questions and fears. We don't have to have all the right answers. We don't have to have all our ducks in a row. I hope that our family can be a place where grace and love prevail.

As I consider where my daughter is at right now, I also struggle with feelings of failure. Where did I as her father go wrong? What should I have done differently to insure that she would grow up to wholeheartedly embrace the faith I try to live by? I can look at the journey of our life and wonder how things might have been different if we had made choice B instead of choice A. I've spent a lot of time in the past few months feeling like a failure, for this and other reasons. It's not a pleasant place to be. I don't claim that I have not made mistakes in parenting. My decisions have not always been ideal, but I don't live in an ideal world. In my world we do our best to decide and live wisely, but we make mistakes and fail and learn and, hopefully, grow in the process. I still beat myself up at times over my failures and their impact on my daughter, my son and my wife. But I'm learning to accept God's grace to me as well and to trust that he is able to work through all these choices, through my failure and my brokenness and the impact this has had on others in my life. Some how out of all of this I hope and trust that he can make beautiful things, that he can accomplish good in my life and the lives of my family. And I keep hoping and believing and trusting that he is not yet done with my daughter. Her journey has only begun and I intend to keep walking alongside her wherever it leads.

Who's to Blame?

In yet another inane statement from the field of Republican candidates for the presidency, Rick Santorum this past week attacked higher education for killing the faith of young people. Never mind that his own daughter is enrolled in a Catholic liberal arts university, the statement conveys the mindset of many in the conservative Christian community. In this insightful article, blogger Dianna Anderson argues that the failure is not the result of the universities, colleges and their “liberal” professors. As she states:

“the Church needs to be aware of its own complicity in young adults' loss of faith.”

I think she is spot-on when she highlights the underlying issue, that churches are afraid to allow people to think critically.

“We're afraid that if we allow people to question, that they will walk away from the faith....In reaction to this fear, we have created an environment where questions are not welcome,...where we are told that our brains are 'addled' if we dare question something outside the essentiality of Scripture.”

Many churches respond to the process of change in society—something that has naturally occurred throughout history—by trying to build a defensive wall around their doctrine, what they will normally label a “biblical worldview.” They then give all the “right” answers to their youth (and adults) so that they will be prepared to deal with the hostile secular world, especially the “liberal” world at the university. But in so many cases this doesn't work, because we don't really teach our youth (or ourselves) how to think, how to ask critical questions and seek understanding among the competing ideas in the marketplace. Then, when they are confronted with alternatives to the answers they have been taught, they don't really have any basis on which to evaluate them. Some may hold on to those ingrained answers, while others may recognize that the world is asking good, valid questions and in embracing those questions they will appear to “fall away.” Some do leave their faith behind, whereas others may leave it for a time as they ask questions and seek understanding, only to come back to it in a deeper, fuller, more personal way after a period of time.

What would it look like for us to create an environment that encourages and invites questioning and exploration within the walls of the church and particularly within the youth and young adult events?

Is God not big enough to handle tough questions, or do we need by our own efforts to make certain that our young people will get the “right” answers?

Is it not possible that in trying to do this we in fact lay the groundwork for future spiritual struggles?