1 Cor. 1.10-4.21 and Non-Violent Atonement

1 Corinthians 1.10-4.21

 

In the first extant letter to the believers at Corinth, Paul opens with a prolonged contrast between the wisdom of God and the wisdom of the world in order to rebuke and correct the haughty attitude that had arisen in the community.  In 1.11-12 Paul sets forth the problem that he will be addressing in 1.13-4.21—“there are quarrels among you…each of you says, ‘I belong to Paul,’ or ‘I belong to Apollos,’ or ‘I belong to Cephas,’ or ‘I belong to Christ.’”  Their over-inflated self worth had led to factionalism based upon the apostolic figure with which persons (or groups) affiliated.  In responding, Paul speaks of “the message of the cross” which revealed the wisdom of God (1.18).  This message is perceived as folly by worldly standards, but it is the source of true wisdom from God’s perspective.  It is remembering and living out the message of the cross that will enable the believers to “be in agreement,” to have “no divisions among [them]” and to “be united in the same mind and the same purpose” (1.10).

 

What is significant for our purposes is how Paul speaks of the cross in refuting the inflated egos of the Corinthian converts.  They are claiming spiritual maturity and authority over and against one another, clamoring for the highest position within the community—based on the apostolic figure of their choosing (1.12), their supposed “knowledge” (8.2), and/or their particular spiritual gifts (chs. 12-14).  When they do so, Paul reveals that they are acting in accordance with worldly wisdom, not in accordance with the wisdom of God.  The wisdom of God is revealed in the proclamation of Jesus Christ crucified (1.23), and this wisdom leads to unity of mind and purpose (1.10b). 

 

The interpretations often set forth regarding Paul’s references to the crucifixion seem to derive from a presumed atonement model.  Reading the text from an atonement model of ransom, satisfaction, or penal substitution obviously colors Paul’s statements about Jesus’ crucifixion.  It reads into any references to the cross much more than seems present in the text itself.  And while I recognize that I am reading the text from a non-violent atonement model, I believe it to be more true to what Paul actually says.  Let me explain.

 

The first implicit reference to the cross is found in 1.13, where Paul sarcastically asks is he was crucified υπερ (for or because of?) the Corinthians.[1]  The first explicit references comes in 1.17, where Paul declares that he was not sent to baptize, “but to proclaim the good news, and not with eloquent wisdom, so that the cross of Christ might not be emptied of its power.”  J. Paul Sampley comments that “Paul’s focus is constantly on the good news, which always means Christ’s death and resurrection, symbolized here by the single term cross.”[2]  Though Paul simply reveals that he proclaimed good news so that the cross may not be emptied of power by worldly wisdom, Sampley extrapolates much more, asserting that Jesus’ death is “good news,” which clearly indicates an atonement model in which death is necessary for liberation (salvation).  This may be Paul’s meaning, but it cannot be derived from such a terse statement.  Similarly, Marion Soards suggests that “above all, the shocking claim that God saves humanity in the cross of Jesus Christ demonstrates that God works in defiance of this world’s norms.”[3]  The verse says nothing about how “God saves humanity.”  It is a statement about the manner of Paul’s proclamation (“not with eloquent wisdom”) and the purpose thereof (“so that the cross of Christ might not be emptied of its power”).  In light of the contrast between worldly wisdom and divine wisdom that follows (1.18-25), it seems that to proclaim the good news with “eloquent wisdom” would be to remove the foolishness of divine wisdom, and therefore empty it of its power.  For Paul, the transforming power of the good news is found in its subversion of worldly wisdom, which is the powerful message of the cross.  The focus is on the contrast between wordly and divine wisdom, not on the efficacy of Jesus’ death.   Finally, regarding Paul’s statements in vv 10-17 Craig Blomberg writes, “Neither Paul nor any other human leader was crucified for the world’s sins, so how can these Christians so exalt merely moral authorities?” and “When we recognize the cross and all it stands for—the atoning, substitutionary sacrifice of the God-man for sinners in need of salvation, vindicated by his bodily resurrection and exaltation—we have identified the cluster of complementary and fundamental truths that must forever form the core of Christian faith.”[4]  While the verse says Paul was sent to proclaim the good news “so that the cross of Christ might not be emptied of its power.”  Implicitly Blomberg reveals his presumed atonement model by adding “for the world’s sins” as the meaning of Paul’s reference to the cross of Christ, and explicitly in noting “the atoning, substitutionary sacrifice of the God-man for sinners in need of salvation.”  Again, this may be Paul’s thought, but it cannot be inferred from this statement alone.  My point is that all of these expositions of these verses are inferring a lot of information not provided by Paul.  Clearly Paul had shared the good news with these converts during his initial visit, so they would have understood what Paul was assuming in his question “was Paul crucified υπερ you,” and by his reference to “the cross of Christ.”  Nevertheless, we cannot claim that Paul’s oblique reference to crucifixion in this verse necessarily implies everything that these commentators claim.  They are extrapolating a lot from a text that offers no explanation of the phrase “the cross of Christ” and which assumes a substitutionary translation of υπερ (in the place of). Furthermore, what follows in 1.18-25 seems to challenge an assertion that connects God’s saving work solely to Jesus’ death on a cross.  In other words, it isn’t perfectly clear that a ransom, satisfaction, or penal substitution atonement model is what Paul is setting forth here. 

 

When we come to 1.18, we find Paul explaining that preaching any other way would have emptied the cross of its power because “the message of the cross is foolishness” by the standards of eloquent (worldly) wisdom.  However, “for those who are being saved” this same message “is the power of God” (1.18b).  You’ll notice that Paul’s statement is about the message of the cross, not Jesus’ death on the cross per se.  This doesn’t rule out the possibility that the message Paul’s speaks of is Jesus’ death as a sacrifice to ransom us, or satisfy God’s honor, or impute his righteousness to us.  It only means that this statement is about a message that seems foolish to those who are perishing, but wisdom to those being liberated.  When we read this statement in light of 1.20-25, we find that God’s wisdom is manifested in the proclamation of the cross, which is the power and wisdom of God (1.24b) that liberates (saves) those who believe (1.21b).  Though it seems ridiculous and weak by human standards, “God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength” (1.25).  Thus, it seems possible to understand the cross as the culmination of the revelation of God’s foolish wisdom that subverts the wise folly of the world.  In other words, it is possible to understand Paul’s references to the cross from a model of non-violent atonement because the focus is not on the efficacy of Jesus’ death, but on the wisdom of God revealed through the proclamation of the cross.  This need not understand the cross as an atoning sacrifice, but could easily be understood as the culmination of a revolution that exposes the foolishness of the worldly wisdom through the divine folly of non-violent resistance. 

 

Building on this contrast between wisdom and folly, Paul calls the Corinthians to consider their own calling (1.26-30).  Here is where we see Paul revealing (from our perspective) and recalling (from the Corinthian’s perspective) what he means by “the message of the cross.”  “Not many of you were wise by human standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth” (1.26b).  Yet they were chosen by God, because “God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, things that are nothing, to reduce to nothing things that are, so that no one might boast in the presence of God” (1.27-29).  This, Paul declares, is the message of the cross—that God’s method is to use the world’s folly to manifest divine wisdom, to shame and reduce to nothing the wisdom of the world in order that no one may boast.  Paul closes the section by declaring that “God is the source of your life in Christ Jesus, who became for us wisdom from God, and righteousness and sanctification and redemption” so that all boasting would be “in the Lord” (1.30-31).  What we discover about Paul’s proclamation of the cross is that it focuses on subverting the wisdom of the world by using apparent foolishness to reveal true, divine wisdom.  It seems that there is no message about Jesus’ death apart from his life.  That is, Jesus’ death, for Paul, is inexplicable apart from his life, because it is simply the final and fullest demonstration of the wisdom of God that subverts the foolish wisdom of the world and reveals the wise folly of God.  Therefore, I believe we could faithfully interpret 1.30-31 as follows: Jesus became for us, in his life and death, the wisdom from God, making him our righteousness and sanctification and redemption in so far as he liberates us from the folly of human wisdom and enables us to live by divine wisdom.  The message of the cross is a pattern of behavior that the Corinthians are to follow just as Paul has.

 

In 2.2 Paul recalls his actions in his initial visit: “I did not come proclaiming the mystery of God to you in lofty words or wisdom.  For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ, and him crucified.”  About this statement Soards says that it reveals “the crucial reality of the cross as God’s work for salvation….because Paul understood Christ’s death on the cross to be the revealed reality of God’s extraordinary saving power.  Paul points to the power of God effecting salvation in the cross and in the cross alone.”[5]    You’ll notice that the verse says nothing about the cross as “God’s work for salvation” or “God effecting salvation in the cross.”  The verse speaks of Paul’s message, which was “Jesus Christ, and him crucified.”  This is significant, because, as we have seen, Paul’s references to the cross in the first four chapters are always linked to the message that he proclaimed, not a developed statement about the significance of Jesus’ death on the cross (i.e. not an atonement model). To me, Soards seems to force an interpretation upon the text based on an atonement model rather than looking at what the text actually states.  The verse says nothing about the salvific effects of Jesus’ death on the cross.  It only reveals that Paul proclaimed Jesus’ death to the Corinthians while present with them.  Paul’s statement is about the content of his preaching, not about the atonement wrought by Jesus’ death.  This is true throughout 1.10-4.21.  Moreover, Philipp Bachmann has argued that “v 2 cannot define the compass of the preaching, but only its quality.”[6]  If this is true, as seems likely based on the immediate context (2.1-5), the reference to the cross is about the humble, foolish wisdom of God that refuses to conform the message to the standards of worldly wisdom, but proclaims the message of God’s liberation in such a manner that “faith might rest not on human wisdom but on the power of God” (2.5b).

 

At this point, since I’ve acknowledged that the commentators may be correct in extrapolating Paul’s intended meaning from these oblique statements about the cross, you’re probably wondering what is my basis for questioning the common interpretation of “the message of the cross” as Jesus’ atoning death for our sins that either ransoms us from Satan, satisfies God’s just wrath and reconciles God and humanity, and/or imputes our sins to Jesus and imputes God’s righteousness to humanity.  The impetus for my belief that “the message of the cross” needs be reexamined and possibly reinterpreted arises from Paul’s comments in 2.6-16, particularly 2.8.  In 1.10-2.5 Paul has set forth the message of the cross that is perceived as folly according to the standards of the world.  This message reveals the wisdom of God that “liberates (saves) those who believe” (2.21b), by exposing as folly and rendering void the world’s wisdom (1.28) and providing a model for behavior (2.1-5).  Then, in 2.6-16 Paul heightens the contrast between divine and human wisdom, revealing that those operating by worldly standards crucified Jesus because they failed to comprehend the wisdom of God he manifested.  “None of the rulers of this age [that is, those acting according to worldly wisdom] understood [the wisdom of God], for if they had, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory” (2.8).  Here Paul reveals that the death of Jesus was not a necessity to appease God’s wrath (satisfaction atonement), pay off the devil’s claims upon humanity (ransom atonement), or to impute righteousness to humanity (penal substitution atonement).  Rather, Jesus’ death resulted from “the rulers of this age” failing to see the wisdom of God in the person of Jesus and killing him for proclaiming a subversive wisdom. 

 

In light of 2.8, the question becomes, how could Paul hold to one of the aforementioned atonement models, all of which declare the necessity of Jesus’ death on the cross for human salvation, and yet declare that “if [the rulers of this age] had [understood the wisdom of God in the way of Jesus], they would not have crucified the Lord of glory” (2.8)?  The “if” in verse 8 seems to imply contingency and, by implication, the non-necessity of Jesus’ death.  Thus, it is not Jesus’ death on the cross per se that is Paul’s focus.  Much less does he claim that Jesus’ death brings salvation (at least not in the terms of the traditional atonement models).  Rather, it is through proclaiming the foolish wisdom of God in the cross of Jesus—a message proclaimed through the folly of humble words (1.17; 2.1-5) and actions (4.6-13)—that brings liberation from the folly of worldly wisdom and redemption through the wisdom of God’s folly (1.18-25). 

 

This has profound implications for understanding what Paul means by “the message about the cross.”  Given the contingency of 2.8, we can safely assert that in 1.10-4.21 Paul never claims that Jesus’ death on the cross is the means of salvation.  That is, he never offers up a satisfaction atonement theory about the death of Jesus per se.  Rather, Paul reveals that the proclamation of the cross reveals the wisdom of God which brings and is salvation or liberation (1.18-25).  Paul reveals the message of the cross as a way of life, lived according to God’s wisdom, the folly of which is wiser than human wisdom and the weakness of which is stronger than human strength (1.25).    Paul sets forth the message of the cross as a message of our liberation from the wisdom of the world.  Those who do not see the wisdom of God in the folly of the cross are still “of the flesh…behaving according to human inclinations” (3.3) by striving for superiority through apostolic association (3.4). Those who see the wisdom of God in the folly of the cross have the mind of Christ (2.16b), and those who have the mind of Christ do not strive for positions of power and influence and authority over others.  Rather, they live in and live out of the way of the cross by becoming “fools for the sake of Christ” (4.10a).  They recognize the folly of a “power over others” model (the wisdom of the world) and accept the folly of a “power under others” model (the wisdom of God seen in the cross of Christ).  When reviled they bless, when persecuted they patiently endure, when slandered they respond with kindness (4.12).  They manifest the wisdom of God through the proclamation of the cross, which, for Paul, seems to summarize the way of life embodied by Jesus—a self-sacrificial, other-centered, humble, non-violent revolution of love that gives of oneself even to the point of death.  Such is the wisdom of God. It is by having the mind of Christ, which operates according to the wisdom of God, that the Corinthians can be united once more (cf. 1.10; 2.16b).

 

In sum, we have seen that when Paul mentions the cross, it is in the context of his proclamation (1.17; 1.18; 1.21; 1.23; 2.1-2; 2.7-8).  The wisdom of God is manifested in the proclamation of the cross, which exposes the world’s wisdom as folly.  It is precisely this worldly wisdom, which Paul says is informing the quarrels and factions among the Corinthians.  If they lived by God’s wisdom, the wisdom of the cross, they would give up their rights and privileges for the sake of others, they would put others above themselves, they would manifest love rather than boasting, they would be humble rather than haughty, they would seek to be servants of all rather than obtaining power over all.  In short, in responding to the Corinthians’ claims of spiritual maturity and authority, Paul offers up the message of the cross, which is absolute folly by worldly standards, because it gives up rights and authority and power over others, triumphing through seeming defeat and humiliation.  Therefore, I believe that in 1 Cor 1.10-4.21 Jesus’ death on the cross is set forth as the paradigm of discipleship, not as an atonement for sins.  The death was not essential (2.8), though it was likely unavoidable since Jesus came proclaiming a foolish wisdom from God that challenged, exposed, and subverted the world’s wisdom by refusing to operate by its standard of power over others.  In short, while Paul may have set forth a satisfaction atonement model elsewhere, this was not his intention here.  And the contingency of 2.8 should inform how we understand references to the cross not only this letter, but in Paul’s other writings as well.  At the very least it is possible to claim that in certain instances Paul offers up the cross as forth a paradigm of discipleship rather than as a ransom, satisfaction, or penal substitution atonement model.

 

 

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[1] The usage of the Greek preposition υπερ is one of the more debated matters regarding one’s atonement model.  As Daniel B. Wallace notes, “The normal preposition used in texts that purportedly deal with Christ’s substitutionary atonement is υπερ” (Greek Grammar Beyond the Bascis, 383).  Moreover, “the case for a substitutionary sense for υπερ is faced with the difficulty that the preposition can bear several other nuances that, on a lexical level, at least, are equally plausible in the theologically significant passages” (383).  Nevertheless, Wallace concludes that “υπερ is naturally suited to the meaning of substitution,” but his admission of “several other nuances that…are equally plausible” seems to make possible a non-violent reading of Paul’s question in 1.13, as well as other places where υπερ is used with reference to Jesus’ death (383).  Wallace reveals many instances in biblical and extra biblical texts where he believes that υπερ is used in a substitutionary sense, concluding that “although it is possible that substitution is not the sense of υπερ in some of the soteriologically significant texts [he lists Deut 24.16; Isa 43.3-4; Judith 8.12; Rom 9.3; Phlm 13; 2 Cor 5.14; Gal 3.13; Jn 11.50; 1 Tim 2.6]…the burden of proof falls on those who would deny such a sense in the others” (388).  Though Wallace’s treatment gives the impression that the case is, for all intents and purposes, closed, his acknowledgement that υπερ is used in other ways elsewhere coupled with his neglect to provide any such examples in his argument leaves me to question his approach, which fails to deal with any instances that challenge his conclusion.  While he acknowledges other uses, it appears that Wallace would rather build a wall of evidence supporting his claim and challenge anyone to try and tear it down, rather than addressing texts that use υπερ in a non-substiutionary manner.  As I will demonstrate later, Paul’s statement in 2.8 offers a direct challenge to a substitutionary interpretation of υπερ in Paul’s question in 1.13.  One example of a non-subsitutionary use of υπερ can be found in Philippians 2.13, where Paul says that “God is at work in [the Philippian converts] both to will and to work υπερ God’s (good) pleasure.”  A substitutionary understanding of υπερ would make this a rather confusing statement—God is at work instead of, in the place of, as a substitution for God’s good pleasure?  How can God work in substitution for God’s good pleasure?  It makes better sense to understand υπερ as causal.  God is working because (as a result) of God’s good pleasure.  It is God’s good pleasure (της ευδοκιας) that causes (υπερ) God’s working and willing in the lives of the Philippians converts.  A second example is possibly Gal 1.4, where Paul says του δοντος εαυτον υπερ των αμαρτιων ημων οπως εξεληται ημας εκ του ενεστωτος αιωνος του ενεστωτος πονηρου.  Most translate the verse, “Who gave himself for our sins” (NRSV, TNIV, NASB, Phillips, etc) “to set us free from the present evil age.”  Problematic with the interpretation “for,” in the sense of Jesus as substitution for our sins, is that throughout the letter Paul does not say that redemption happens because of faith in Jesus’ death on the cross.  Rather, it is simply “faith in Jesus”—perhaps better translated “the faithfulness of Jesus”—that brings redemption (cf. 2.16, 20; 3.22).  Moreover, one must assume that when Paul says “gave himself” he means Jesus’ death rather than Jesus offering his life as the means of liberation “from the present evil age” by calling people to turn from a path that leads to destruction and into a path that leads to redemption—this seems to be the thrust of Jesus’ statement “the Kingdom of God has come near to you, repent and believe the good news” (Mk 1.15) and his call for people to follow him (Mk 1.17).   Therefore, it seems difficult, if not impossible, to affirm the more popular atonement models based on the fact that Paul does not mention Jesus’ death (at least explicitly), nor does he say that we are liberated from Satan (ransom) or God’s wrath because of God’s offended honor (satisfaction) or by having our sinfulness imputed to Jesus and his righteousness imputed to us (penal substitution).  Rather, we are “set free (liberated) from the present evil age,” which seems to affirm a view closer to Christus Victor, and thus, not as distant from a non-violent atonement model as one may infer from an initial reading.  Finally, it seems plausible to translate the statement in a way that aligns with a non-violent perspective: “Because of our sins he gave himself to set us free.”  By this reading the death is not necessary to set us free, it is the self-giving of Jesus that liberates us “from the present evil age.”  In this reading, “he gave himself” is not in substitution for our sins, but as a result of our sins Jesus came to bring liberation.  The former focuses solely on Jesus’ death, the latter focuses on Jesus’ life.    These examples certainly aren’t definitive evidence that Paul’s statement in 1 Cor 1.13 should be read as causally (“was Paul crucified because of you?”) with the implication that Jesus’ death was because of the Corinthians who represent, prior to their conversion, the wisdom of the world in opposition to the wisdom of God.  However, it does demonstrate that Paul uses υπερ causally at a period roughly contemporaneous to writing 1 Corinthians.  Moreover, the context of Phil 2.13 is that of Christ’s self-giving, even to the point of death, which is used as the basis to exhort the converts to emulate this self-less giving (2.1-18), not to call them to accept Jesus’ death as a substitutionary atonement for their sins.  

In other words, the cross for Paul is set forth, at least in several instances, as a paradigm for discipleship (cf. Mk 8.34) rather than a substitutionary sacrifice.  It seems, then, that it is at least plausible, to understand the question “was Paul crucified υπερ you?” as “was Paul crucified because of you?” (a death caused by the Corinthians who represent worldly wisdom) rather than “for you?” (a substitutionary death on behalf of the Corinthians).

[2] NIB, 1.17, 2040.

[3] NIBC, 35.

[4] NIV App, 44, 47 (emphasis added).

[5] Soards, NIBC, 53.

[6] Quoted in Conzellman, Heremenia, 54, footnote 14.

Mark 11 – The Challenge of Prophetic Ministry

In the gospel of Mark the entry into the Jerusalem temple is found in chapter 11. Since Mark’s gospel is 16 chapters in length, the events we find here come near the end of the story.  Therefore, we need to put the story in context, because it helps clarify the meaning of the stories that we find in these two chapters.

Mark’s gospel has a dialectical structure, meaning; it follows a pattern of thought that suggests a “thesis” or proposition, which is then countered, clarified, corrected, and expanded by an “antithesis,” which then results in a conclusion, resolution or “synthesis.” In Mark, this pattern is seen in its portrayal of Jesus as the Messiah (see Luke Timothy Johnson’s The Writings of the New Testament).

Mark 1.1-8.26 is the “thesis,” where Jesus is seen as the worker of mighty deeds. Throughout these opening 8 ½ chapters Jesus goes around healing people of diseases, physical and mental illnesses, casting out demons, raising the dead, and so on and so forth. Jesus is the divine miracle worker.

Then in Mark 8.27-30 Jesus has gathered his disciples at Caesarea Philippi, where he asks them “who do people say that I am?” Peter, speaking for the entire group, declares that Jesus is the Messiah, and Jesus instructs them not to tell anyone about this.

In Mark 8.31-15.38 we encounter the “antithesis,” where Jesus is seen as the suffering servant, one who will endure much suffering for his message and actions, and ultimately will be put to death.

The synthesis (or resolution) comes in Mark 15.39, when for the first time someone truly grasps what it means to call Jesus the Messiah. The recognition and declaration is not made by one of Jesus’ disciples—they have already abandoned him after he was arrested. Rather, it comes from a Roman soldier, one who had just participated in Jesus’ crucifixion, has his eyes opened somehow, and declares “truly this man was a son of God.”

So, why is all of this background and context necessary and important?

It’s important because it reveals how Jesus’ actions in our story contrast and subvert the messianic hopes and visions of the people of Israel. It’s important because we too sometimes want a God who is the cosmic miracle worker, who conquers through signs and wonders and miraculous acts of power.  We don’t often want the God who conquers through humble love and selfless giving even to the point of death.  You see, Jesus’ entrance into the Temple subverts the establishment, the tradition, the unquestioned assumptions and beliefs of his day. It is a prophetic action and critique that leads to his execution. Let’s walk through the story and see what I mean by that.

In preparation for his entrance into Jerusalem, Jesus sends his disciples ahead of him to find him a young colt to ride into the city. Jesus has been walking around the entire narrative, so why would he need a donkey to ride now? It’s not that Jesus is suddenly tired and needs help making it into the city, the action is symbolic (as all prophetic action is), and is meant to contrast and refute the popular messianic hopes. The donkey was a symbol of peace, in contrast to a horse which was a symbol of war.

Jesus enters on a donkey, proclaiming that he comes to bring peace not violence, but the crowds (and the disciples) are too caught up in their nationalistic hopes and ambitions to recognize the irony of their shouts. Jesus is well-known at this point. News about his prophetic words and deeds have spread, and so when he makes his way into Jerusalem the people are expecting him to begin a revolution that will overthrow the Romans, and establish an independent Israel once again. Listen to the nationalistic slogans they shout as Jesus rides into the city:

“Save us now! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of YHWH! Blessed is the coming kingdom of David! Save us! Save us now!”

It’s an effort to compel Jesus to begin another revolution of violence and war to overthrow Israel’s oppressors. It wasn’t a novel idea with Israel. It had been attempted before and would be so again. It’s not a novel idea with humanity. We always want God to love who we love and hate who we hate. We always associate God with our nationalistic dreams and ambitions, thinking that we are the chosen people of God, and that God only loves and blesses us and no one else. We see this ideology throughout history. From the time of Homer’s Iliad to present day, it is a nationalistic deity that we desire, who will affirm everything we affirm and defend our causes and justify our violence and wars.

This kind of mindset is what is fueling these chants as Jesus enters into the city. Take back our land for YHWH and for Israel! For God and country, go out and fight against and destroy our evil Roman oppressors! YHWH is our God alone, who hates the Romans and loves us, and is about to bring judgment upon them through the revolutionary leadership of the Messiah.

Yet Jesus disappoints the crowds and shatters their expectations and nationalistic dreams of a violent overthrow in YHWH’s name. Jesus goes, not to the center of Roman military and political authority, but to the center of Jewish life, the Temple. It’s not the triumphal entry most had hoped for. It’s not really a triumphal entry at all—at least by the standards of the day.

Rather than coming in and beginning a insurgency, Jesus walks into the Temple, surveys what is happening, takes in all the sights and sounds, and then walks back to Bethany (a town just outside Jerusalem) with his disciples. It’s rather anticlimactic really. The crowds gather to cheer their hope for political liberation, their desire for a revolution to overthrow their oppressors, and the one on whom they have placed these hopes doesn’t offer any prophetic critique or denunciation of the Roman authorities. Rather, he quietly makes his way into the Temple, looks around, and then leaves. And, I imagine, many were dismayed and confused and upset, wondering what kind of deliverer is this?

The disappointment and disenchantment is evident the next day. When Jesus again returns to Jerusalem there are no crowds cheering his arrival, no nationalistic slogans being proclaimed, no more than a faint and silent hope in the hearts of the people who happen to notice his arrival that he will bring the hoped-for overthrow of Rome and restoration of the nation of Israel.

Again, Jesus makes his way to the Temple, but this time he begins overturning tables and driving out merchants and moneychangers. It’s a revolution, of sorts, but against the leadership and aristocracy of Israel not Rome. To disrupt the Temple activities, however briefly it may have lasted, was to challenge the leaders who had authorized such practices in the first place. The moneychangers and merchants didn’t just “set up shop” one day in the outer precincts of the Temple known as the courts of the Gentiles. No, their presence there had been authorized by the priests who carried out and regulated the Temple rituals.

These merchants and moneychangers served a purpose. Like today, there were many forms of currency circulating, but the currency accepted was of a different kind. This is where the moneychangers became necessary. All the worshippers who came to the temple had to exchange their coins for the temple currency, and like today, there was a fee that came with the currency exchange. The worshippers would also need an animal to offer as a sacrifice for whatever festival it happened to be. Since many of them traveled some distance to get to the temple, purchasing an animal upon arrival was more prudent. So, the merchants were there to provide animals that fit the regulations for animal sacrifices. Ceasing the activity of these individuals was a hindrance to the temple’s activities. Without them the system couldn’t function very well.

So, while Jesus may be critiquing their presence in the temple of Gentiles, preventing Gentile worshippers from having a place to pray and commune with God, his interruption of their activity seems to be a rejection of the temple and its rituals rather than a reform of it. It’s a critique and condemnation of the system that nationalized YHWH, that made God their sole possession, that had turned their gaze inward, that had forgotten that they were called to be a nation of priests, that is, a nation that bore witness to the reign and rule of God in human history by practicing compassion, mercy, grace, love, and embrace of the stranger, the outsider, the outcast, the downcast, the “other.” They had turned a message of good news for the entire world into a proclamation of good news for themselves and bad news for everyone else. God became their national god rather than the God who loves all the peoples of the world.

It’s so easy to fall into this way of thinking and acting. And, from a distance, it’s hard to tell the difference. That’s the point of the story about the fig tree that frames the Temple episode. From a distance the tree looks fruitful, but upon closer inspection it is nothing more than the appearance of fruitfulness while no fruit exists on the tree. The story about the fig tree is really a story about the Temple. The temple is characterized by Jesus as what I would call a withered thriving. It appears fruitful but it isn’t. It appears to be pleasing to God but it isn’t. It’s full of busyness, but its actions have distorted the point of it all. Jesus’ critique of the temple is the same critique made by the prophets of ancient Israel, who rejected ceremony devoid of meaning, form devoid of substance. They would boldly declare that God didn’t want a bunch of empty rituals and ceremonies; in fact, the prophets reveal that God hated them, because what God wanted was for justice and righteousness, compassion and grace to be manifested on the earth.

I think the parallel for us is to ask whether we’re often more focused on and concerned with the form of things (whether we like the style of music or the style of preaching of the format of all our myriad programs) or with the substance of things (whether justice and mercy and compassion are being manifested in the world). We need to ask ourselves whether our focus is on a bunch of programs that try to attract people to our building, our particular gathering of believers, or whether our focus is on sharing the good news of God’s grace with anyone and everyone, not to try and get them to join our church but simply because it is a message of good news that we believe everyone needs to hear? And we need to ask ourselves whether we’ve tried to make God our national, tribal deity who loves who we love and hates who we hate, who affirms our violence and hatred and war as more righteous, who loves us and blesses us and is our God alone?

Imitating Jesus in his prophetic endeavors requires much faith. Challenging the unquestioned assumptions of a people—whether it be the assumptions and ideology of a nation or of a local church—is no small or easy task. Sometimes being prophetic means exposing the false realities that we’ve constructed, revealing that the very foundations that seemed incontrovertible are in fact defective. Put another way, as the salt of the earth and the light of the world, following Jesus’ example means revealing that the food we thought pleasant was actually devoid of flavor and the light we thought we were walking in was in fact darkness.

As Jesus reveals in verses 20-24, such a task is never easy. Indeed, it is like “saying to a mountain, get up and be moved into the sea,” because questioning unquestioned assumptions is like trying to move a mountain with mere words. Yet, Jesus encourages his disciples (and you and I) by telling them (us) that if we trust in God and his redemptive way of life—the seemingly foolish way of loving our God by loving our neighbor as our self, of loving our enemies, praying for our persecutors, putting others above ourselves, forgiving any and all who wrong us, turning the other cheek, walking the extra mile, giving our shirt as well as our coat, caring for the poor and lonely and despised and outcast, doing justly, loving mercy, and walking in humility before God—such faith can and will move mountains, even those as seemingly immovable as the unquestioned ideologies of a nation.

Article on Social Justice

http://baptistheritagecouncil.com/newsletter.pdf

Patriot Bible??

Though I was disturbed when I read Brian Kaylor’s EthicsDaily.com article (http://www.ethicsdaily.com/news.php?viewStory=14259) about the new addition of the most recent push for wedding church and state in America, I can’t say that I’m surprised.  The reality is that there have been Christians who have sought to do so from the founding of our country, and have succeeded in doing so in the world powers before the United States.  There is the old adage that reads something like “those who don’t learn from history will repeat its mistakes.”  Some Christians have thought themselves exempt from this rule or simply ignored it altogether, as the push to defend and promote “God and country” seems rather cyclical.

Far too often it seems that Christians would rather make YHWH into a tribal deity that loves who we love and hates who we hate.  Never mind that the biblical narrative makes it clear that God loves and is working to redeem all of creation.  Never mind that this ideology has led to the slaughter of people in the name of the God in events like the Crusades and the Inquisition.  Never mind that this “city on a hill” mentality encouraged the disregard for fellow human beings through the forced relocation of the natives of the current United states and the enslavement of imported Africans.  Never mind that this tribal deity ideology was used to defend the horrific violence of war in the name of the God of love who taught us to turn the other cheek.

One of the dark ironies of this decade has been the pejorative caricature of Islam as a violent faith tradition bent on destroying anyone who disagrees with them through jihads based on the actions of a few militant extremists.  The unstated assumption in many conservative churches and religious broadcasts in America is that all Muslims support and encourage this sort of radical behavior.  The reality is that most Muslims do not support or encourage such behavior, and the better segments of their faith tradition affirm the same values and morals and ideals as the better segments of the Judeo-Christian faith tradition.  And though this may anger some to state it so blatantly, one has to wonder what the difference is between the actions of the Islamic terrorists who act in the name of Allah and the actions of the U.S. military when they are supported and defended by the name of YHWH?

My concern with publications such as the Patriot Bible is that people fail to recognize the universal scope of God’s redemptive work.  They confine God to one nation by equating YHWH with the United States or Great Britain before that or Spain before that or the Roman Empire before that, and thus God is “on the hook” for anything and everything done by these nations.  And then we wonder why there is sometimes a strong resistance to sharing the Christian faith among the peoples of the world in former colonial holdings of these nations.

Patriotism is well and good.  I’m thankful to have been born in America where we are free to believe and worship and speak freely.  I’m thankful for the men and women who serve to defend our nation.  As a Christian I personally have trouble with the idea of fighting and possibly killing other human beings in war, I feel that this is a grey area that must be decided by every individual person, and my views on the matter shouldn’t be forced upon others.  I also think America has done some very good things for its people and for the world.  Yet the more God and country become intertwined the more harm we do to the way of Jesus who came proclaiming another and a better way.  A way that did not use God to justify violence and war, but embodied a way of change through non-violent resistance to the systems and structures of oppression and violence and hatred and bigotry and classism and nationalism and racism and sexism.  It’s difficult to understand and tragic to imagine the words “love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you” printed alongside notes exalting the building of a self-proclaimed Christian nation that, like all the others nations and empires of the world past and present, has far too often disregarded these humble words of redemptive grace and taken up the sword, believing that our enemies are God’s enemies and the actions of America are equated with the actions of God.

what does your theology have to say?

As a Christian minister who has grown up in the church, I’ve heard a lot about the numerous debates about doctrinal and theological positions on matters.   As a Christian minister of the baptist denomination, I’ve heard a lot more than I care to about the bickering and fighting about doctrinal and theological positions on matters.  Somehow the Church has defined itself in this manner.

While I certainly enjoy a good theological discussion, and do feel that one’s theology certainly shapes how one chooses to live, sometimes we can get very sidetracked over petty things, rather than addressing the more pressing economic and societal matters–such as creation care and social justice issues–which ought to be central to our theological discussions.  Any theology that does not place care for the earth and for one another, and that does not see that  justice  for animals and plants as well as for people is of utmost importance is misguided and ultimately fruitless.

So, I think the questions of utmost importance for the Church are these:

What say you about the systems of abuse in our world?  Systems that exploit people?  Systems that exploit the world?  What does your theology say about these matters?

If these issues aren’t even on our theological “radar,” I believe we’ve veered offcourse and ought to set aside other matters for those more pressing and central to the divine imperative found in Genesis 1-4, namely, that we live in harmony with God by caring for (serving) the good world he made, being representatives (images) on earth, and that we care for one another through mutual dependence and cooperation rather than continually eating of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil–assuming that we know best and that competition and exploitation rather than cooperation and compassionate concern are right and best.  The result is the Adam-Eve “blame game” and the Cain-Abel “jealous rage complext” writ large.

Consider taking some time to watch the two videos embedded here (the links have been provided if you want to watch more than the portion provided)–one about the affect of corporations (and our present global economic system) on our world and the other about the treatment of animals.  Then ask yourself this: What does your theology have to say about these things?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H3m5lq9FHDo

http://video.hsus.org/?fr_chl=222751a84208af937ad836e8b89a08d42163259e&rf=bm

Matthew 25 Revisited…

The Synoptic Gospels (Matthew, Mark, & Luke), despite their rich diversity, share many things in common. Most notable is a distinct shift in theme and emphasis roughly halfway through their narratives. More importantly, and more significantly, is the event that causes this shift in all three gospels, namely, the gathering of Jesus’ closest followers at Caesarea Philippi, where Jesus asks: “who do you say I AM?” To which Peter—boldly speaking on behalf of the group—declares: “you are the Messiah, the Son of the living God;” or something quite close to that depending on the gospel from which you may be reading. While each gospel contains it own unique outline, all three use this event as a hinge in their stories. The question and confession, then, function as a turning point in Jesus’ ministry.

Up to this point Jesus has been traveling from place to place working many miracles—healing diseases, casting out demons, raising the dead, and so on—these acts of power, these noticeable, miraculous, and electrifying deeds. And he also has been talking a lot about the Kingdom of God through parables, conversations, and other discourses. In fact, his words and deeds are so compelling that the gospel according to Mark notes that people “were astounded at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes.”[1] Understandably, all that Jesus has said and done has excited and attracted many people who follow Jesus all around Galilee to see what he’ll do and say next.

Then they reach Caesarea Philippi, where Jesus will ask what his closest followers really think of him, and Peter answers correctly: “You’re the Messiah.” But then, as is often the case with the disciples (and you and I, if we’re honest), they immediately show their ignorance, their myopia, and their lack of true understanding.

At Peter’s confession Jesus suddenly shifts gears, and begins talking about how he will have to journey to Jerusalem where he will suffer and die, and how those who follow him will also suffer and may even die. He also mentions he will rise again, but the disciples either can’t comprehend what he is saying or they don’t hear this part because they are too distracted and dismayed by Jesus’ talk about suffering and dying (and can you really blame them?).

So Peter again speaks up, pulls Jesus aside, and begins to rebuke him. In other words, he tries to set Jesus straight, to tell him to quit all of this nonsense about suffering and dying, and to just keep doing all the miraculous works, the triumphant and exciting acts, because that’s really what the Messiah is supposed to be doing anyway.

Now, I don’t know about you, but when I find myself disagreeing with Jesus, I’ve always felt it best to assume that he is right and I’m wrong. It just seems to be a good policy. Yet Peter takes another approach, and voices what the other disciples were likely thinking as well. That’s not what the Messiah is supposed to do, is it? Suffering? Trials? Death? What about all the healings and miracles and teachings? Shouldn’t the Messiah just continue to do all of these things until there are no more sick, or diseased, or demon possessed, or hungry and needy people anymore? If he were truly the Messiah he wouldn’t die, but he would overtake the oppressors of Israel and establish the Davidic monarchy again, wouldn’t he? After all, the Messiah is supposed to bring good news rather than news of death and suffering, right?

The truth is, the disciples and the crowds (just as much as you and I) are attracted to the flashy, the miraculous, the exciting. All of us are enamored with “success” as defined by the predominant culture around us. The disciples and crowds were all excited to follow this man when he was healing people of diseases, raising the dead, casting out demons, teaching with authority, and so on. But start talking about suffering and trials and death and many were ready to jump ship, so to speak.

I imagine you and I, if we are honest, may feel much the same. After all, look at how we all too often talk about how “successful” churches are doing: bigger and newer buildings, larger budgets, increasing numbers of people attending and joining the church, a flashy worship band, a famous pastor, a new building campaign, and so on it goes. Or, look at how we talk about “successful” people: bigger bank accounts, more expensive clothes and fancy cars, houses bigger than we could ever possibly need even if we had 10 children, and on the list could go. All of this we label “success;” and it is, by the standards of our culture at least.

I’m not saying all of these things are necessarily wrong per se, but if this is how we measure success then I cannot help but believe we have gotten way off track as individual and as collective Christ followers. For the reality is that Jesus came proclaiming the Kingdom of God—an entirely new way of life that was characterized by concern for the poor, the needy, the outcast, the downcast, and the marginalized—not glorious cathedrals and overflowing bank accounts. He came bringing a new ethic, a new standard of success defined by faithfulness and fidelity to God. And the reality is that this new ethic, this Kingdom of God manner of life, often turned people away.

The truth is, by the prevailing standards of success in his day Jesus was a miserable failure. However, by the standards of faithfulness to God he was the most successful person to ever walk the face of the earth. Therefore, by the prevailing standards of success in our day our churches (and we as individuals) may be the most successful in our city, our state, our region, our denomination, our nation, and our world. However, by standards of faithfulness to God they may be miserable failures. So the better question for us is are we being faithful? Not are we successful—because that carries all the baggage of success as it is defined by the culture around us—but are we faithful?[2] And if we are being faithful, who in the world cares whether others deem us a success?

There is a parable toward the end of Matthew’s gospel that demonstrates what it means to be a miserable failure by all appearances and by the standards of the kingdoms of the world, yet truly be a great success according to the standards of the Kingdom of God. It’s found in chapter 25, verses 14-46.

The story is a familiar one, the so-called “parable of the talents.” I’ve read this passage so many times that I knew, or thought I knew, what the point was. Put simply: we are all given varying amounts of responsibility and gifts by God, and we are to invest them and use accordingly. The truth is, this is almost always how the parable is interpreted, and the only way I had ever heard it presented. That is, until recently. At a conference about a month ago I heard it preached correctly (I believe) for the very first time by a pastor named Amy Butler who serves a church in the Washington D.C. area. She rightly noted the connection between the parable of the talents and Jesus’ statements about the separation of the sheep and goats that immediately follows. When you read these passages as a cohesive whole rather than two disconnected sayings of Jesus, it radically changes how you read this story.[3]

So, the pressing question is what happens when we read these two passages together? What changes? Well, let us explain the parable for those less familiar with the story.

Jesus declares that the Kingdom of heaven is like a man who sets out on a journey, giving one slave five talents, another two, and another one. In short, he gives them each a different amount of money to hold on to while he is away. Now talents are actually a measure of weight, but with some conversion we know that five talents was equivalent to 30,000 denarii and 1 denarii equaled a day’s wages for the common laborer. Moreover, we can be quite sure that this master had even more money than this, because he would not have left even the majority of his wealth in the hands of three common slaves while he was away, much less all of it.

So the point is that this master is already incredibly wealthy, so much so that he is comfortable entrusting roughly 48,000 days wages to his common servants, an amount that would have widened the eyes of everyone in Jesus’ hearing. This master was at the top of society with no worries or concerns. He had more money than he could possibly know what to do with, and he departs for a lengthy vacation, leaving the money with his servants hoping to make a profit from their labor while doing nothing himself.

Upon his return he assesses the situation, rewarding and promoting the first two servants for doubling his money. So now the master has roughly 84,000 days wages, yet when he finds out the final servant only returned his one talent he becomes angry, rebukes and then demotes the slave by taking the talent given to him and giving it to the first servant so he could go make more money. He then sums up his actions with this declaration:

For to all those who have, more will be given; and they will have an abundance, but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away.

Reading this in the traditional manner, this would mean that God/Jesus is the master whom the third servant reveals is a bit shady: “reaping where he did not sow and harvesting where he did not scatter seed.” In sum, the master is accused of taking what was not rightfully his. You’ll notice the master does not deny this, but accepts the judgment as accurate, telling him that he should have at least gotten some interest on the money since he knew this. He then rebukes the third servant and declares the principle that “the rich will have an abundance and the poor will lose even what meager possessions they have.” I don’t know about you, but that sounds nothing like Jesus who came to show us who God is and what he is like.

So I would submit to you that we have misunderstood the parable under the traditional manner of interpretation, and we need a new way of reading the text that takes into account the story about the separation of the sheep and goats that follows. When we do this, we will find that verse 29 is not an exhortation to use our God-given gifts or lose them—Jesus was clearly talking about money here and not gifts and abilities. Rather, the master’s statement in verse 29 is nothing more than the cultural standard of Jesus’ day and ours writ larger. It is the slogan of the power brokers who will exploit, manipulate, abuse and step upon any and everyone in order to get more. It is the motto of the rich, the powerful, the mighty, the well-to-do, and the mainstream who take from those who have none so that they will have an abundance. In sum, it is precisely the system that Jesus came to expose, it is the way of life that Jesus revolts against by offering another and a better way characterized by humility, service, and self-sacrificial love.

This is why the passage that follows begins with the word “BUT.” But when the Son of Man comes in his glory… Jesus uses the parable to reveal the systems and standards of success in the kingdoms of the world, in order to contrast them with the systems and standards of success in the Kingdom of God.

But when the Son of Man comes in his glory, he will separate people like a shepherd does with sheep and goats. The sheep are those who cared for the hungry, thirsty, estranged, naked, marginalized poor—and do not realize that when they did this unto the least of these they had done it unto Jesus. The goats are those who did not care for the hungry, thirsty, estranged, naked, marginalized poor—and failed to realize that when they did not care for those in need, but instead exploited or ignored them, they were exploiting and ignoring Jesus.

So, who are the righteous servants in the parable of the talents after all? I would submit to you that it is not the first two servants who have been exalted for far too long based on a misreading of Jesus’ parable. Rather, it is actually the third servant, the one who refuses to manipulate the less fortunate in order to make an already wealthy master even wealthier. It is the one who stood up to the powers at be, exposing those who “are harsh, reaping where they did not sow and harvesting where they did not scatter seed”. It is the slave who opposed the systems of oppression, exploitation, and manipulation of his day, which operate by the standard that “to all those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away.”

If you feel the need to rebuke me at this point, and tell me how far off I am and how much I have misunderstood Jesus’ parable I imagine you are feeling much the same that Peter felt when Jesus started talking all that seeming non-sense about suffering and dying. I am certainly not comparing myself to Jesus, but simply noting that sometimes you can become so engrained in your culture that the words of Jesus are missed and misinterpreted as a parable about using your gifts and talents instead of a countercultural proclamation that the ways and means of the kingdoms of the world run directly contrary to the Kingdom of God, which is concerned not with helping the rich and powerful obtain an abundance but with lifting up and caring for those who do not have anything.

The radical message of the parable of the talents has been glossed over for far too long, and it would behoove us to be those who live lives that are characterized by Jesus’ radical message of faithfulness to God rather than the comfortable standards of success perpetuated by the culture and society in which we live.

If and when we do that, we may, like the third servant, find ourselves rebuked, tossed out, and condemned. In fact, Jesus told his followers as much: Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness sake, for theirs is the Kingdom of heaven.[4] And when this happens, as it most certainly will when we choose faithfulness over success, we can at least take comfort that we are in good company, the company of the Messiah the Son of the living God, who was strung up on a tree by the power brokers of his day, but in so doing exposed all of the madness and insanity of the world, and showed us another and a better way of faithfulness rather than success.

Amen and amen.

---

[1] Mark 1.21

[2] The need to ask the question “are we being faithful?” was presented to me by Joy Yee who pastors Nineteenth Avenue Baptist Church in San Francisco, CA. She led a breakout session at the 2009 CBF Current Retreat in Orlando, FL entitled “Success or Failure: How Do We Know Which is Which?” that I had the privilege to attend. I am indebted to her for describing the dichotomy between success and faithfulness (put another way, the need to define success by faithfulness to God) so simply and humbly, yet quite profoundly.

[3] Again, I owe all the credit for my new understanding of this text to Amy Butler, pastor of Calvary Baptist Church in Washington D.C. I heard her deliver a message on this text at 2009 CBF Current Retreat, and it has radically changed how I understand the parable of the talents. While I certainly spent some time studying the passage myself to see if I agreed with her reading of the text, I cannot claim any of the credit for coming to this understanding, and will be forever indebted to her scholarship in reforming my reading of Matthew 25.14-46. You can visit the church’s website at: http://www.calvarydc.com/index.html and you can find her sermon on this passage at: http://www.calvarydc.com/Sermons/081116.html

[4] Matthew 5.10

heresy?

I was just reading some Amazon.com reviews of Greg Boyd’s book God of the Possible: An Introduction to the Open View of God.  It’s a perspective with which I happen to agree, so please note my bias from the outset.  What I found was an expected mixture of positive and negative responses, but what stood out to me was the harshness and the “end-of-the-Christian-faith” mentality of the negative respondees.

And it made me a bit inquisitive, and not a little frustrated, by those who profess to defend “orthodox” Christianity and hold a “high and lofty” view of God and Scripture, yet seem so scared for the Church and the faith simply because someone’s theological perspectives differ from their own and from much of tradition.  I must confess that I simply don’t understand the sensationalism.  And I must say that the argument of “unsound exegesis” certainly rings hollow to me when the responses simply proof text other passages–which, by the way, there are clearly texts throughout Scripture that support different perspectives, and in my view open theism can account for those passages that affirm determinism of certain events and those which affirm openness and possibility–essentially doing exactly what they are trying to accuse Boyd of doing.  Apparently the standards change when it’s your perspective you’re defending.  But I digress.

Moreover, given that I know more about how those with Calvinistic leanings have responded–simply do an amazon search for “open theism” and you’ll get just as many books responding to the “diminished God of open theism”–I’m rather intrigued.  Calvinists believe that God’s glory is somehow lessened by this perspective–and, I assume, any perspective that is not in keeping with their own (cf. Bruce Ware’s God’s Lesser Glory)–yet they avow that God causes or renders certain everything that ever happens in the world.  I’m speaking broadly, and certainly various expressions of Calvinism are much more nuanced, but however this perspective may be formulated, this is ultimately the end sum of their thought.  So, if God is the cause (directly or indirectly) of all that happens, and it is all for his glory, how can the view of open theism lessen or diminish God’s glory?  Indeed, didn’t God cause it to happen to enhance his glory?  So, what is all the fuss about?  If you’re going to be a consistent Calvinist I have difficulty following the logic.

Finally, I continue to struggle with the whole notion of “heresy” in the first place.  It’s certainly thrown around a lot, and we like to decry people as heretical.  Yet the reality is that most of the “heretics” of the Christian faith–perhaps, any faith, I haven’t done the research to say for sure–were rather devote believers trying to formulate their faith in a more intelligible and biblically faithul manner (based on their reading and interpretation).

I strongly disagree with the perspectives set forth by Calvinists–to the point that their arguments not only frustrate me but make me a bit angry at times.  Yet I love them as fellow believers and wouldn’t call them “heretics.”  I can only assume that those who like to toss that phrase around do so for sensational purposes, so that they can take the “high ground,” be seen as the only legitimate perspective, and denigrate and demeen anyone who disagrees with them.  To me, calling someone a heretic–especially given how the church leadership treated heretics in the past [let's see, banishment, ostricism, various forms of persecution (physical, social, mental, et al), execution--oh, and some of whom we would regard as "heroes of the faith" now, Wycliff, Tyndale,  Luther to name a few] I would think people would decide to be a bit more cautious in tossing that term around so as to “defend the faith.”

As I see it, to label someone a “heretic” because they think differently than you do (i.e. they read and interpret certain biblical texts different than you do) seems to assume that you have all the answers, that no further thinking is necessary, and anyone who disagrees is somehow less of a Christian because of it.  After all, isn’t the call simply to follow Jesus?  Isn’t that what it means to be a Christ follower?  to be a disciple?  Isn’t it about living as Jesus lived, loving as Jesus loved?  Isn’t it about mimicking and imitating him in everything that we do?  Where did this idea come in that because you hold a certain theological perspective that you are somehow less of or no longer a Christian?  Why does being an open theist or even a universalist for that matter make some Christian theologians ostracize and demeen you because you disagree with them?

I must confess that I simply don’t understand it, since the call is not first and foremost to have all of the “proper,” “acceptable,” and “orthodox” theology, but to follow Jesus as best you know how, living according to the ethics of the Kingdom of God.  That, and that alone, is what it means to be a Christian.  Not that I believe this or that theology, but that I believe in and follow Jesus, the Christ, the Messiah, the Savior, the Lord.  I think we all better be a little more careful about labeling people “heretics” because it may be that we are the one’s whose views are a bit distorted since in placing pejorative labels on others we are not acting out of love and not putting others above ourselves, but in fact doing the exact opposite.

Just some thoughts on a Saturday evening.

Lk 3.8a – Fruit Worthy of a Changed Life

This is actually a shortened and edited** version of a prior post.

**On a random note, I actually prefer the word “redacted” to  “edited” because the former is easier to say and the latter sounds funny when said.  If you don’t believe me, try saying “edited” a few times.  I refrain from using it, however, because it is not as well known and it makes one sound a little haughty, with a hint of an overinflated estimation of one’s intellectual prowess.

Kingdom Ethics – Fruit Worthy of Repentance (Lk 3. 8a)

If you “google” the phrase “top vacation destinations,” you’ll get over 400,000 results with a great diversity of responses and suggestions. If I were to ask you what your favorite place or places would be, what would you say? I imagine your responses would be just as diverse as the responses found online. Whether it’s places in our home or town, places we like to go on vacation, or significant places that marks the times and seasons in our life that we hold in our memories.

And if you’ll allow the comparison, this is true of the Bible as well. I imagine if you “googled” “favorite Bible verses or books” you’d get nearly as diverse of a response. Like vacation destinations, there are books and verses in the Bible that we find ourselves going back to over and over again. One’s that we’ve memorized, others that marked significant times and seasons and events in our lives, still others that made sense for the first time—maybe the only time—at a specific time and day that we readily recall.

And unless I miss my guess, you, like me, find some of those favorite verses or texts in the gospel of Luke, where we find John the Baptist’s call to bear fruit worthy of repentance. If nothing else we all turn to the “Christmas story” year after year, hearing it read in church or watching Linus read it in the Charlie Brown Christmas episode they show each year.

On the other hand, there are also others we don’t like to visit and seek to avoid. Or, there are places that we don’t like to visit under certain circumstances. I’m sure many places are coming to mind about now.

Think about kids and their rooms. Growing up I was pretty hard-headed and that got me in some trouble, and I often was told to go to my room. And it’s funny to think about the reaction I had and all children have when they’re told that. After all, it’s their room and is usually a pretty fun and cool place to be, but you’d think it was the most horrific place in all the world the way children react when they are being punished and told to stay there.

My point is that our context and circumstances clearly determine how we react.

A kid’s room is generally a great and wonderful place until they are told to stay there as punishment for misbehaving. And the same is true when we turn to the Bible. Certain passages we avoid if they push us too much, ask more of us than we wish to give, clash with the prevailing views of our day, and/or challenge long-held ideas, feelings or behaviors. The result is that we have a canon within our canon or a Bible within our Bible, which is defined by those passages and verses that we read and those that we avoid. Just like we have a relatively limited number of places that we visit and like to visit—we have a limited amount of the Bible that we visit and like to visit.

I’ve recently been working on summaries of the N.T. books, which has required me to study even the parts of certain books that I would usually move through quickly if at all. In studying the gospel according to Luke (and its second volume in Acts), I’ve found both familiar and cherished places and others that are not so familiar and not so cherished. I’ve found passages I like and embrace and others that I usually avoid and keep at arms length. I’ve found verses that comforted and others that challenged, and many that did both at the same time. And most clearly I’ve found a challenge to live out the ethics of the Kingdom of God, to live within the domain over which God’s ethic holds sway, to bear fruit in keeping with repentance, all of which means living a life that looks like Jesus.

Luke’s gospel is, through-and-through, a declaration of good news for the lowly, downcast, outcast, and marginalized. Luke’s is also a message that continually denigrates and condemns the haughty, mighty, wealthy, powerful, and mainstream. Just as our circumstances often dictate our experiences at a given place, so too do our circumstances often determine how we interpret and/or apply a given text. And coming to Luke-Acts from the place of the mainstream, well-off, and quite wealthy as far as the general standards of the world go, I find Luke’s message difficult and challenging at times.

In Luke’s gospel we find Jesus pushing against all of the social, religious, and political practices of the day, showing his followers another and a better way, a new way of life, a new ethic, known as the Kingdom of God. We find him challenging the accepted norms of his day—the quid pro quo, might makes right, me-first paradigm—which, in large part, remains the norm of our day as well.

And so, let me say as we begin, I hope that this message challenges and convicts you. And if it frustrates or upsets you in the process I’ll just have to be OK with that because it’s done that to me as well.

So with that being said, I want us to look at several texts in Luke that demonstrate this “Kingdom Ethic,” this Jesus-looking life, this fruit worthy of repentance that John the Baptist calls for in Luke 3.8.

Luke tells us in chapter 3 that John the Baptist is out in Galilean countryside preparing the way of the Lord by “proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins,” and many are coming out to hear him and to be baptized. And look at how John begins: “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to feel from the wrath to come?” How many times do you imagine a pastor could begin his sermon that way before he got run out of town today? “Bear fruits worthy of repentance, in keeping with a changed life. Don’t merely claim that you are a descendant of Abraham as your security, for that ultimately matters little. That gravel lying over there in the parking lot is just as capable of being turned into descendants of Abraham. Bear fruit, good fruit, fruit that demonstrates your transformed life. For every tree that does not bear good fruit will be thrown into the fire.”

The logical questions that follow are how? and what? How do we bear this fruit and what does this good fruit look like? John’s reply to these questions in verses 10ff is significant, setting the tone for the rest of Luke’s gospel. The crowds, John says, are to share their clothes and food with those who have none. The tax collectors are to stop taking more than they ought. The soldiers are to stop extorting money and to be content with their pay. In sum, they are to opt out of the prevailing patterns of behavior in order to care for the poor and the lowly and the marginalized. They are to put others above themselves, using their place of privilege to better the lives of others less privileged than they are.

This, John declares, is the fruit worthy of and in keeping with a changed life. Such actions are central the ethics of God’s kingdom, because in God’s economy what matters most is that we always seeks to love and serve God and neighbor by putting others before ourselves. This is the gospel translated into action. This is what it means to find salvation and to enter in to the kingdom of God.

Well, you may be thinking, it can’t be that simple. Didn’t he leave out the part about believing certain things, or praying a prayer of salvation, or joining a church? Jesus did call people to follow him, believing that he was the Messiah, the one who had come to redeem the world through his self-sacrificial love, the one who was God-with-us, the one to show us what God was like. But he never offered up a set of doctrines to be adhered to or “prayer of salvation” to be prayed. Rather, he offered them a new way of life, a new ethic that he called the Kingdom of God.

This is why the gospel accounts always reveal salvation as a choice to follow Jesus. It’s never merely a matter of praying a prayer, walking an aisle, and then being immersed in water. It begins here, but these are the outward manifestations of an inward repentance, an inner transformation that redeems and restores the person and manifests itself in a changed life that begins, slowly but surely, to look more and more like Jesus.

Greg Boyd, pastor of Woodland Hills Church in St. Paul, MN has noted, rightly in my opinion, that “somewhere along the way a twisted, abbreviated, Gnostic version of the gospel has made its way into Christianity where we reduced it down to a set of beliefs about Jesus rather than a commitment to live in the way of Jesus. But I submit to you,” Boyd continues, “that N.T. Christianity knows no such Gnosticism, as if you are saved by the theological content of your brain. It’s rather, living a different way of life, the way of Jesus…Christianity is anything but a personal, private belief system that a person embraces to escape hell when they die. No…if Jesus cared about the poor, we have to care about the poor, if we cared about the homeless, we have to care about the homeless, if he cared about the sick, the demonized and spiritually oppressed, we have to care about them too…if Jesus set aside all of his privileges to enter into solidarity with the least, we are called to set aside our privileges, whatever they may be, to enter into solidarity with the least. That’s what it means to be Christian, to be Christ like.”

The question before us, then, is what does it mean for you and me to live lives that look like Jesus? What does it mean for you and me to bear fruit in keeping with a changed life? For us to live according to God’s ethics, and thus within the Kingdom of God?

I wish that I could give you something specific,concrete, and comprehensive list of what it means for you, but the truth is that each of us must decide this for ourselves. The call is simply to follow Jesus, which means mimicking and imitating him in all that we do. Precisely what that looks like must be decided by each of us. We must immerse ourselves in Scripture, we must read and re-read the gospel accounts of Jesus’ ministry and teachings, and then seek everyday to conform our thoughts to his thought, our behavior to his behavior, our life to his life.

This means that when we read about Jesus reaching out to and fellowshipping with those on the margins of society—outcast because they had a physical illness or were of a certain occupation or race or gender or ethnicity or any number of reasons—we must be doing the same in our own day, even if people ridicule us for doing so. Or when we read Jesus’ commands to “love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us,” that means we must opt out of the quip pro quo mentality of the world, in which you fight back against anyone who harms or threatens you, and instead do the crazy and foolish thing of loving and praying for even our enemies and persecutors. Or when we find Jesus declaration to go into all the world with the good news of God’s redemption grace, we must at least ask ourselves if we’re doing what he commands by seeking to go into the world and be the church or are simply spending most of our resources on a bunch of programs in a building. Or when we read Jesus’ parable about the man that had so much wealth he had to tear down his old barns and build bigger ones only to find that his life was to be over the next night, it means that we must heed Jesus’ warnings about what we treasure and how we use our wealth. It means that we must be on guard against all forms of greed because life in the Kingdom of God does not derive from a super-abundance of possessions, but rather from self-sacrificial love that gives up all privileges (monetary or otherwise) in order to serve and help and love and befriend and bless the least and lowliest. Or, as people who all have an abundance so far as the world’s standards go, when we hear Jesus’ declaration that it is difficult for the wealthy to enter the Kingdom of God (Lk 18.25) it ought to at least give us pause, and when we read the parable about the rich man who allowed a poor man to starve at the gate to his house, we better consider whether we are doing much the same thing by failing to tangibly care for those starving across world while much of our nation suffers from a staggering amount of obesity.

Each of must begin, however slowly and faltingly, to manifest a life that looks increasingly like Jesus. And it requires spending time in the Scripture and, as best you know how, conforming your life to Jesus’ life and teachings.

So, by way of illustration, I want to close today by sharing some of my reflections from the past year or so of wrestling with what it means to be a Kingdom citizen and to bear fruit worthy of a changed life. But let me just emphasize that you’ve got to think through this on your own. You can’t just turn off your brain and wait for me or anyone else tell you what you’re suppose to believe and how you are to respond to the life and ministry of Jesus. The truth is, you may profoundly disagree with some things I’ve said or am about to say, and that’s OK, in fact, it’s a good thing because you’ve got to do the thinking yourself, you’ve got to wrestle with the gospel stories and teachings, and as best you can to determine what it means for you to follow Christ based on your time spent in prayerful study.

I want to add three qualifications. First, you need to do this in community with other believers who can walk with you through the process, who can push you and challenge you, who think differently than you and can critique your thinking. And this means discussing matters with others in your church community and reading a wide range of books and listening to the thoughts of others with whom you may profoundly disagree. And second, if you find that some of Jesus’ teachings seem too hard or impractical and are tempted to spiritualize them to avoid their implications or write them off altogether, those are likely the one’s that you must seek to implement into your life with the greatest urgency. Because it reveals that you’ve conformed to the culture more than to the lifestyle of Christ and the ethics of God’s kingdom. Finally, when you’ve done this, begin again at the beginning. It’s a continual, on-going process that lasts our entire lives. We must continually ask ourselves what it means to be a Christ follower and what it means to be church in and for the world, because each of us must be continually converted by the good news of God’s great grace.

In the last year or so I’ve been pushed and challenged and stretched as I’ve looked at the current state of Christianity in America, at least as I perceive it. In this journey of reflection, I’ve come across individuals who seemed to understand and share my frustrations with doing church and Christianity as usual, with Christianity as it is often manifested in our country.

They are people like Walter Rauschenbusch, a Baptist preacher and social reformer at the turn of the 20^th century, who recognized the fallacy of a gospel message that separated the physical from the spiritual and saw that the redemption Christ brings encompasses all of life, which means making sure people are fed and clothed properly and seeking that justice be done for the least of these because such things are central to the good news of God’s kingdom.

They are people like Greg Boyd whom I mentioned earlier and John Howard Yoder, who have recognized that as the church we need to stop looking to and trying to fix Caesar (viz. the government) in order to cure all the ills of the world, to stop placing our hope in getting the right people elected who will pass the right policies to force people to act a certain way, but rather to decide each and every day that we will be the church— a countercultural community that manifests an entirely new way of life by emulating Jesus’ self-sacrificial love, which has more power to transform and redeem peoples’ lives than any policy forcing them to behave as we believe is best.  This echoes Jesus’ critique of the religious leadership of his day who were concerned about cleaning the outside of the cup all the while death lived within. Rather, Jesus says, we are to be concerned with cleaning the inside of the cup knowing that the outside will become clean as a result. Why? Because the Kingdom advances not by the power of the sword but by the power of the cross; not by the power of coercion but by the power of compassion and love; not by the power of policy but by the power of prayer.

They are people like Howard Snyder, Darrell Guder, and Lesslie Newbigin whose books concerning the identity and mission of the church have helped me see that our focus must always to move beyond our campus here at 201 12^th Avenue to the larger community and world in need of grace and mercy and hope, because missions isn’t something we do on occasion it’s at the heart of who we are.

They’ve been people like a young pastor named Michael Dixon who spoke at a conference I attended recently and has started a church in a rented their facility, seeking to keep expenses for their weekly gatherings minimal so that they can invest their time and energy and money back in their community, and thus gain a hearing for the reason they were doing all these things.

And they’ve been people I’ve just heard about such as Shane Claiborne who began a ministry called The Simple Way in which he and several others live in a house in an impoverished neighborhood in Philadelphia, living in solidarity with the poor in order to minister to them in their need, giving them the opportunity and the right to speak the good news of Jesus Christ into their lives.

To some these ideas may seem too extreme. A break from church as usual. A “radical” form of Christianity. And maybe it is. But when I read through the O.T. prophets, through the gospels, and through Acts I can’t help but get the sense that such thinking is closer to the what the church is suppose to be, closer to the ethics of God’s Kingdom than other perspectives and approaches with which we may be more familiar and feel more comfortable.

And, truth be told, if we would all choose live as Christ called us to live, if we would all take Christ’s words seriously and decide not to spiritualize his teachings away so as to be able to reconcile them with the way of life our culture exalts, we may realize that the word Christian can accept no qualifier such as “radical,” because a radically different, other-centered, countercultural, crazy and seemingly foolish way of life is, by definition, what it means to be a follower of Christ.

Living the way he lived, caring for the things he cared about, doing the things that he did. Imitating, mimicking, modeling Jesus in all that we do. This is what it means to be a Christian. For the truth is, we can profess all we want that Jesus is Lord, that he is the Christ the Son of the living God—we can be very orthodox, theologically astute, and get a 100 on any Jesus pop-quiz we may be given—but unless we, like the disciples, are willing to leave everything and follow; unless we live as he lived, unless we love as he loved; unless we are bringing good news to the poor and release to those in captivity; unless we are recovering sight to those blinded by all the darkness of this world; and unless we are helping the oppressed go free; however imperfectly we may do all these things—I have to question whether we’ve truly understood this good news that we profess to believe, whether we’ve entered into the kingdom of God (the realm in which God’s ethics hold sway), and whether, in the end, we’re failing to bear fruit worthy of a changed life by saying to him “Lord, Lord” but not doing what he commands (Lk 6.46).

The Theology of Hosea

In many ways M. Night Shyamalan is a modern-day O. Henry—only with movies rather than short stories. The popularity of both is found in the dramatic surprise arising at the end; a twist that upsets the presuppositions built throughout the narrative. In his movie The Village, Shyamalan tells the story of an 18^th century pioneer community enclosed by a wood in which creatures live who will kill any who dare traverse the boundary. The shock of story, hidden until the closing moments, is that this village actually exists in the 20^th century in the midst of a wilderness preserve; and the creatures are merely costumes worn by the elders to keep villagers from venturing beyond. The community was founded by a group of social workers whose efforts to love and heal had resulted in hurt, anguish, and pain. As a result, they decided to avoid any further heartache by withdrawing from the world and the people they initially sought to love and help recover life and hope. At one point a villager waxes eloquent, proclaiming that “the world moves for love, it stands before it in awe;”[1] and in many ways, the book of Hosea reveals the validity of this proclamation. Only in this story, Love does not withdraw because of heartache, but continues to move, pursue and transform people in spite of it. Through the prophet Hosea, YHWH reveals the wonder of his redemptive grace—moving the world for love, by love, in love; causing all with eyes to see and ears to hear to stand before it in awe.

The Scandalous Behavior of God

The book of the prophet Hosea is scandalous from the outset. YHWH calls a man named Hosea, son of Beeri, to do something shocking: find a whore and marry her; make this whore the mother of your children.[2] Uncomfortable? Offensive? After all, what would his friends and family think? What is more shocking, Hosea does it. Scandalous. Why would God command such a thing? Certainly the God of the Bible would never tell a prophet, one set apart to proclaim “thus says the lord,” to do this, would he? Surely Hosea must have heard him wrong. After all, prostitutes and the like are “other,” those to be judged as unclean, people to be avoided and shunned as outcasts, right? What would this do to his credibility? Who would listen to the prophet married to a whore anyway? Yet the statement remains—bold and defiant of any wishing to soften its proclamation. Find a whore and marry her. Hosea did it.[3] Apparently God has a different view of “those kinds of people.” Maybe they are not so different from the rest of us after all. Maybe they are not “other” any more than you and I.

The persistent reader, refusing to shut the book never to return, finds that the real shock and scandal is for another reason altogether. God commands Hosea to marry a whore because God is married to a whore. What!? Never! Yet this is precisely what the Bible says. This whole country [Israel and Judah—the descendents of Abraham, the people of God] has become a whorehouse, unfaithful to me, YHWH.[4] Therein lies the scandal. Not primarily the command that a prophet love and marry a whore, but that YHWH himself loves and is married to a whore. We usually find such matters to be stones of stumbling and rocks of offense; but such is and always will be the good news of God’s redemptive grace.[5] In one testament we find a prophet called to marry a whore. In another YHWH is born in a feeding trough and crucified on a cross. Shocking? Unbelievable? Maybe. Yet it is true.

Thus, we are left with some troubling and difficult questions. Who is this God with whom we have to do? Why such shock and offense at the story of Hosea? Why do we blush when we read this book, wishing it were not in our canon? Have we been enslaved by our myopic notions of what is proper and fitting for God?[6] Are we making an effort to be holier and more righteous than YHWH? In short, have we formed God in our own image? And, if so, are we willing to have our presuppositions shaken by the surprise of the God whose grace and love compels him to love and pursue whores—even you, even me?

Orthodoxy: Traditional or Non-?

Traditional orthodoxy, in many ways I believe, has led to an avoidance of certain texts found throughout the Old Testament by a large majority of Christians. Hosea is no exception. A God unable to be affected and changed by humanity does not sit well beside a God whose relationship to Israel is comparable to a prophet’s relationship with his unfaithful wife.[7] The divine attributes of God espoused by traditional theism often find troublesome and problematic some statements found, ironically, in the Bible. Omnipotent, omniscient, immutable, impassible, timeless, all-determining—such is the God of some traditional theists for good or for ill.[8] Yet a question persists: is this the God revealed in the Bible? If so, what are we to do with books such as Hosea? Can they be reconciled to the attributes of God (as traditionally defined) without imposing ideas onto the biblical texts never intended by the author or understood by the initial audience? If they cannot, which will we cling to in our effort to understand the God with whom we have to do?

In The Openness of God, John Sanders argues that the early church fathers—and, by extension, much of traditional theism—were strongly influenced (maybe even held captive) by Greco-Roman philosophical notions of what is proper and fitting for God.[9] For any interested in a more detailed discussion, Sanders’ chapter is an excellent starting point; however, as the focus of this paper is specifically what the book of Hosea reveals about God we will not go into great detail regarding Sanders’ arguments.[10] As such, what is important to understand is the evident influence of Platonic thinking on traditional theism. In brief, Plato’s metaphysics as applied to God (and “the Good,” in his thought) are as follows. “The Good is completely self-sufficient whereas everything else depends on it. Nevertheless, even though God is in some sense dependent on the Good, God is ‘in every way perfect’ […] Because he is perfect, change is impossible since ‘if he change at all he can only change for the worse.’”[11] This idea is foundational to Platonism, and it greatly influenced the early church fathers who sought to make Christianity intelligible to a world in which Plato’s ideas reigned supreme. While the intention was noble, and many philosophical ideas may have been rightly appropriated, one cannot ignore the fact that traditional theism at times seems far removed from the biblical witness. As such, an attempt to read the Bible through the lens of Greek metaphysics will only lead to frustration or exegetical acrobatics as one is forced to explain away anything resembling a God responsive to and affected by the actions of humanity. As Sander’s put it: “The God of Greek thought is anonymous, self-sufficient, alone (unrelated), invulnerable, self-thinking thought, changeless and egocentric. The triune God of the Bible is ‘named,’ […] is God for others, makes himself vulnerable and is self-giving love.”[12] As such, we would be wise to let the revelation of God through the Bible form and inform our view of what is “proper” for God, lest we too remain captive to philosophical presuppositions not espoused by the biblical witnesses.[13] A look at the theology of Hosea should aid in this endeavor—for there we find a God whose relationship with Israel is one of husband and lover who remains faithful in spite of his partner’s adultery. In brief, the traditional definitions of impassibility and immutability simply refuse to be upheld by the book of Hosea.

Before we turn to the testimony of Hosea, however, let us discuss briefly the matter of change as it pertains to God. As we saw, Plato—and then much of traditional orthodoxy—affirmed that for God to change it would either mean he became greater or lesser. Since, as Anselm put it, God is the being greater than which none can be conceived, any change in God would have to be to something lesser.[14] This argument is said to be a sufficient defense of the classical understandings of God’s immutability and impassibility. William Hasker, however, uses the illustration of a clock to expose the logical fallacy in the above argument.[15] A clock, when functioning properly, is in a state of constant change. Because change is consistent with its purpose, it is not change for better or for worse, but simply change that allows it to perfectly fulfill its function. Thus, it is possible for something to change and remain perfect; and, as with a clock, sometimes change is necessary to remain perfect. This, Hasker asserts, reveals that God can (and does) change from perfection to perfection, and not for the worse or the better. Thus, since God has willingly chosen to live in relationship with that which he created, changes in relationship to creation are essential to his character and purposes.[16]

Thus, is it possible that the very existence of creation affirms Hasker’s analogy and refutes Plato’s ideas co-opted by traditional theism? For one can only wonder how it can be argued that God never changes (in any way), yet he creates a world which did not exist beforehand. To create is to change—not in character, but in relationship. There was once no creation and the Trinity existed in everlasting fellowship and love. Then there was a point at which God created, and the Trinity then existed in everlasting fellowship and love with creation. God has changed by nature of creating—neither for good nor ill, but simply because God is God.

Perhaps an illustration would be insightful. A young couple marries and begins enjoying the fellowship and intimacy that comes with marriage. For the purposes of this discussion let us suppose this is an Edenic (pre-Fall) marriage, and thus there is no sin.[17] At some point they decide to have children, the wife becomes pregnant, and roughly nine months later they have their first child, a baby girl. Has the couple changed for the worse or the better? Not will the child bring them joy and happiness (maybe even bring the wife and husband closer together in many ways) but have the wife or husband ontologically changed as a result of having a child? Or have they remained who they are and simply brought another person into their loving relationship? It seems to me that the latter is correct. Thus, is this not remotely analogous to the biblical creation account in Genesis? God exists, period. Then God creates, and there is something other than God in existence for the very first time. Has God changed? Not in terms of his perfection, but he certainly has changed by the fact that he is now in relationship with creation, an entity outside and other than himself. As we said, change can be from perfection to perfection, and the biblical account of creation seems to affirm this. Thus, Plato’s ideas need not force Christian theologians to reject (by explaining away) the biblical witness of a God who interacts, suffers, grieves, responds, and even changes his mind.[18]

This brings us to the book of the prophet Hosea once again. As mentioned, this is a largely neglected text in the Christian canon precisely because it challenges long-held (mis?)conceptions set forth some traditional theists. For here we find a God who reveals himself as a jilted lover, the faithful partner in a marriage far from ideal. Yet its presence remains, and merely ignoring or excluding it from one’s personal canon does not change that fact. As such, we ought to embrace the whole biblical revelation regardless of whether or not it fits with our carefully constructed theological systems which define what the Bible can and cannot say and what God can or cannot do. After all, C.S. Lewis chose the figure of a lion to depict Christ for a reason—God is not safe, but he is good.[19] Thus, the aim of what follows is to discuss three theological assertions put forth by the prophet Hosea—namely, YHWH’s immutability; mutability; and responsive relationality. In order to do so, this writer (and, hopefully, the reader) must seek to set aside—however difficult it may be—the myriad preconceptions and presuppositions about what the Bible must say and mean (as well as what God must and must not do) so as to discover the God revealed there—not safe and predictable, but constantly and everlastingly good.[20]

YHWH’s Immutability

“For I, the lord, do not change.”[21] “In the beginning, Lord, you founded the earth, and the heavens are the work of your hands; they will perish, but you remain; like a cloak you will roll them up, and like clothing they will be changed. But you are the same, and your years will never end.”[22] These verses, among others, are often cited to bolster the claim that God is immutable and impassible.[23] While most orthodox believers affirm God’s immutability,[24] the biblical witness seems to affirm an immutable character and purpose rather than a blanket proclamation that God cannot change or respond in any way. Such is the picture of YHWH painted by the prophet Hosea—immutable in character and purpose, yet open and changeable in his relationship to his creation. The very fact that God compares his relationship with Israel to that of a husband married to a prostitute should be reason enough to question blanket immutability in one’s theology. For who can avoid being grieved and hurt when the object of one’s love remains unfaithful?[25]

In the opening chapter, YHWH calls Hosea to wed a whore, who is unfaithful to him despite his faithfulness. Hosea’s consistent fidelity is paralleled to that of YHWH; while Gomer’s consistent infidelity is paralleled to that of Israel. Despite Israel’s persistent idolatry, God perseveres in love, wooing Israel back to himself and promising that if she will only return he will wed her forever, offer compassion and redemption, and make a people out of them that were not a people (2.14, 21-23). Eugen Pentiuc notes: “God behaves as if he were a cheated husband yet still in love with his unfaithful wife,” whereby his love constrains him to persistent commitment despite infidelity.[26] It is clearly YHWH’s immutable character and purposes that leave room for the hope of redemption even in the midst of a coming judgment.

Furthermore, it is instructive to note the language used to describe how God will (re-)wed Israel if they but repent and return. “I will betroth you to me in righteousness and in justice, in loving-kindness and in compassion. And I will betroth you to me in faithfulness. Then you will know the lord” (2.19-20, emphasis added). The writer uses an abundance of adjectives in this divine speech to reveal YHWH’s intentions, all of which describe his character that remains steadfast despite the fickleness of his bride. As Daniel Simundson noted, “God will not break the covenant and end the marriage, no matter how greatly provoked. The covenant is conditional in the sense that acts of faithlessness and disloyalty will bring on dire consequences. But it is unconditional with regard to durability…God is righteous and will do what is right and in the best interests of the partner.”[27] He is faithful to his promises and faithful to his covenant. He, indeed, is YHWH who changes not.

The question remains: can the God of traditional theism be the same God spoken of in Hosea? For the God revealed here is certainly affected by the sins of his people, as seen in his longing for Israel to return, to be faithful, and to respond to his wooing.[28] Can this God be declared as pure act with no capacity for genuine response and interaction?[29] Can this God be reconciled with any form of deterministic theism or any other theology espousing an impassible and wholly immutable deity? One wonders how to even begin.

YHWH’s mutability

“Once you were not a people, but now you are God’s people; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.”[30] Hosea’s wordplay is an integral part of his message; and it is through this element that we first find God’s mutability in relationship to creation expressed, as the prophet reveals the shifts that occur in the YHWH-Israel relationship. That YHWH and Israel are in covenant relationship is presupposed, and revealed by the fact that the Hosea-Gomer marriage parallels the YHWH-Israel marriage (Hos 1.2). Thus, having revealed the persistent idolatry of Israel, Hosea’s three children are given names that prophecy about God’s response, and serve to depict the changes in the covenant relationship.

His first born, a son, is named Jezreel, “for yet a little while, and [YHWH] will punish the house of Jehu for the bloodshed of Jezreel, and [he] will put an end to the kingdom of the house of Israel” (Hos 1.4). As Gary Smith explains, “this child was to remind Hosea’s audience of what had happened in the Valley of Jezreel, where king Jehu poured out the blood of innocent lives in order to solidify his political power (2 Kgs 9-10; esp. 9.25-26; 10.11).”[31] Here we see a shift from favor and blessing to judgment and punishment. God certainly has not changed in his faithful character, but his relationship to his people necessarily changes in response to their behavior. It is a response to anguish at Israel’s infidelity, a response to draw his partner back into covenant. As Walter Brueggemann noted, “judgment that is not understood as a form of unendurable hurt misses the point of the biblical drama.”[32]

Hosea’s second child, a daughter, bears the name Lo-Ruhamah, “for [YHWH] will no longer have compassion on the house of Israel…But [he] will have compassion on the house of Judah” (Hos 1.6a). “The daughter’s name suggests a parent who was once loving and compassionate [Ruhamah] but now has withdrawn support and affected [Lo-], no longer cares what happens to the child, and, in effect, has disowned the one who at one time was loved.”[33] Clearly a change in the YHWH-Israel relationship has taken place. They were once the favored people of God, yet they have persisted in idolatry so long—shunning his continuous wooing—that they are possibly beyond recovery. Thus, YHWH confirms them in their ways and in effect proclaims to them: “your will be done.”[34] Hope remains, however dimly, for Judah, however. Thus, the prophet clearly sees God’s relationship changing with Israel and Judah in response and in accordance with their particular actions and faithfulness (or lack thereof) to the covenant.

The name of the third child, another son, is just as foreboding—“name him Lo-Ammi, for you are not my people and I am not your God” (Hos 1.9). We have another clear shift in relationship, and one wonders how an immutable, impassible deity could undergo such a change? YHWH and Israel were in a covenant that requires fidelity on both sides. God has kept his end of the bargain; Israel has not. Thus, due to their persistent idolatry, YHWH responds by proclaiming that Israel is no longer his people and he is no longer their God. “This, too,” Simundson notes, “is a terrible name. It signifies no less than the end of the covenant between God and the people.”[35] A change has occurred for both covenant partners.

These are stark and shocking proclamations. Indeed, if the book ended here one might go into a state of depression, despair, or bewilderment. Thankfully, however, Hosea’s message continues, bringing us back to the immutable faithfulness of God—to the character and purposes of YHWH who, as another prophet declared, “changeth not” (Mal 3.6). Punishment is certainly coming, that is part of the holy and righteous character of God (cf. Hos 2.1-13). Nevertheless, love is soon revealed as the primary aspect of God’s character in a message of hope and promise for redemption if Israel will only repent. “Behold, I will allure her, bring her into the wilderness and speak kindly to her. Then I will give her her vineyards from there, and the valley of Achor as a door of hope….I will betroth you to me forever…in righteousness and in justice, in loving-kindness and compassion…[and] in faithfulness. Then you will know the Lord” (Hos 2.14-15a, 19-20). God cannot wholly desert his people. It is impossible because love and faithfulness are essential to what it means to be YHWH. He is the unchangeably changeable deity, YHWH, who will go to any and all lengths—even a cross on a hill called Golgotha—to live in love and fellowship with those whom he brought into being.

YHWH’s Responsive Relationality

The book of the prophet Hosea is clearly difficult—textually as well as theologically.[36] The language is complex, filled with wordplays that are often obscured in even the best English translations. Yet, for the reader who persists, the theology of the book is richly rewarding, and offers much insight into the dialogue regarding human freedom and God’s sovereign actions in the world. Much more could be explicated from this text, yet, for our purposes, hopefully it has been demonstrated that YHWH reveals himself as immutable and mutable, as unchanging and changing. As Greg Boyd put it, “God’s mind [and, I would add, his essence or being] is unchanging in every way in which it is virtuous to be unchanging, but is open to change in every way in which it is virtuous to be open to change.”[37] And, as we saw, change is often a necessity for God to remain perfect and true to his character.

Thus, Hosea paints a picture of God that runs contrary to much of traditional theism’s piety—one who responds; who suffers, grieves, and mourns over his unfaithful spouse; who is even willing to shun all that many think “proper” for deity in order to be in relationship.[38] Impassible? Hardly.[39] Immutable? Certainly, but in his character as faithful lover even with those who shun and grieve him. What kind of God is this? What are we to do with such a scandal? With a God who feels emotions, is affected by others, can be rejected by the very beings he created?[40] In short, a God who moves for love, by love, in love? The book of Hosea leaves only two options open for us: “You can shut Him up for a fool, you can spit at Him and kill Him as a demon; or you can fall at His feet and call Him Lord and God.”[41] And so we are back to the question which began our inquiry: Have we formed God in our own image? And, if so, are we willing to have our presuppositions shaken by the surprise of the God whose grace and love compels him, no matter the cost, to love all and pursue all—even you, even me?

Works Cited

Boyd, Gregory A. The God of the Possible. Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2001.

_____. “The Open-Theism View.” Divine Foreknowledge: Four Views, James K.

Beilby and Paul R. Eddy, ed. Downer’s Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2001.

_____. Repenting of Religion: Turning From Judgment to the Love of God. Grand Rapids:

Baker Books, 2004.

Brueggemann, Walter. Finally Comes the Poet: Daring Speech for Proclamation. Minneapolis:

Fortress Press, 1989.

Brunner, Emil. I Believe in the Living God: Sermons on the Apostles’ Creed. John Holden,

translator and editor. Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1961.

Buechner, Frederick. Peculiar Treasures: A Biblical Who’s Who. New York: Harper & Row,

1979.

Charnock, Stephen. The Existence and Attributes of God. Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2005

reprint.

Fretheim, Terrence. The Suffering of God: An Old Testament Perspective. Minneapolis:

Augsburg Fortress, 1984.

Hasker, William. “A Philosophical Perspective.” The Openness of God. Downer’s Grove:

InterVarsity Press, 1994.

Helm, Paul. “Divine Timeless Eternity.” God and Time: Four Views. Gregory E. Ganssle, ed.

Downer’s Grove: InterVarsity, 2001.

Lewis, C.S. The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. New York:

HarperCollins Publishers, 1978.

_____. The Great Divorce. New York: HarperCollins Publishers, 1946.

_____. Mere Christianity. New York: Macmillan, 1952.

Moltmann, Jürgen. Theology of Hope. New York: Harper & Row, 1967.

_____. The Crucified God. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1993 reprint.

Olson, Roger. The Mosaic of Christian Belief: Twenty Centuries of Unity & Diversity.

Downer’s Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2002.

Pentiuc, Eugen J. Long-Suffering Love: A Commentary on Hosea with Patristic Annotations.

Brookline, MA: Holy Cross Orthodox Press, 2002.

Peterson, Eugene. The Message. Colorado Springs: NAV Press, 2003.

Philipps, J.B. Your God is Too Small. New York: Touchstone Book, 1952.

Pinnock, Clark. The Most Moved Mover. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2001.

Sanders, John. “Historical Considerations.” The Openness of God. Downer’s Grove:

InterVarsity Press, 1994.

_____. The God Who Risks, rev. ed. Downer’s Grove: IVP Academic, 2007.

Shyamylan, M. Night. The Village. Written and directed by M. Night Shyamylan. 108 min.

Touchstone Pictures. 2004.

Simundson, Daniel J. Hosea, Joel, Amos, Obadiah, Jonah, Micah. Abingdon Old Testament

Commentaries. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2005.

Smith, Gary V. NIV Application Commentary: Hosea/Amos/Micah. Grand Rapids: Zondervan,

2001.

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[1] M. Night Shyamylan, The Village, Written and directed by M. Night Shyamylan, (108 min., Touchstone Pictures), 2004.

[2] Eugene Peterson, The Message, (Colorado Springs: NAV Press, 2003), Hosea 1.2a.

[3] Peterson, The Message, Hosea 1.2b, 3a.

[4] Ibid., Hosea 1.2b.

[5] cf. Gen 3; Isa 8; Mt 11.3; 13.57; Mk 6.3; Lk 4.21ff; 7.18-23; 8.1-11; Rom 9; 1 Pet 2.

[6] Many “have set up in their minds what they think God ought or ought not to do, and when He apparently fails to toe their particular line they feel a sense of grievance…God will inevitably appear to disappoint the man who is attempting to use Him as a convenience, a prop, or a comfort, for his own plans,” J.B. Philipps, Your God is Too Small, (New York: Touchstone Book, 1952), 48-49.

[7] As Daniel J. Simundson noted: “Hosea reveals not only the actions of God but also the ‘feelings’ of God in a powerful way. God is capable of emotional responses to the behavior of human beings….It seems to give too much power to mere mortals if their attitudes and activities can have an effect on how God thinks and feels. Yet, God’s response to what humans do is central to the biblical story,” Hosea, Joel, Amos, Obadiah, Jonah, Micah, Abingdon Old Testament Commentaries, (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2005), 8.

[8] Stephen Charnock’s The Existence and Attributes of God (Grand Rapids, Baker Books, 2005 reprint) provides a lengthy treatment of the attributes of God found in much traditional theism.

[9] John Sanders, “Historical Considerations,” The Openness of God, (Downer’s Grove: InterVarsity Press, 1994), 59-100.

[10] See also, John Sanders, The God Who Risks, rev. ed., (Downer’s Grove: IVP Academic, 2007), 140-172.

[11] Sanders, The Openness of God, 63.

[12] Ibid., 100.

[13] It should be noted that in The God Who Risks Sanders does not intend to denigrate the efforts of the church fathers to make Christianity intelligible to their contemporaries. Indeed, he even argues that it is largely difference in language definitions that distinguish the fathers from his perspectives. While Sanders continues to struggle with their terminology, such as impassibility, he has come to see that the fathers affirmed a God who suffers, but one who is impassible in the sense that he is not “overcome by emotions as we are apt to do,” 141.

[14] Roger E. Olson, The Mosaic of Christian Belief, (Downer’s Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2002), 82.

[15] William Hasker, “A Philosophical Perspective,” The Openness of God, (Downer’s Grove: InterVarsity Press, 1994), 132-133. It should be noted that Hasker affirms Anselm’s idea that God is the greatest being; however, he argues that this does not necessarily mean that change is impossibility for God.

[16] Within traditional theism, one is also left to wonder about the incarnation. How can God—impassible, timeless, immutable (not just in character), omnipotent, and omniscient—become flesh and dwell among us as the gospels proclaim? If these are attributes essential to God being God, could he truly be fully God and fully Man in Jesus the Christ? For in Christ, God is in time, weeps over Jerusalem, interacts with and responds to human beings, suffers and dies only to rise again for the redemption of creation. How is this comprehensible within much of traditional theism? Simply put, it is difficult to determine how it can be.

[17] One could actually use the biblical creation account to make the same argument. God created Adam and declared that he, like the rest of creation, was good. He then creates Eve and thus Adam has changed in so far as he is now in relationship with another human being for the very first time. Does this mean Adam changed for the better? Certainly God created him good and as he intended, so he could not have become better than God made him. Does he change for the worse? Putting aside all of the marriage jokes at this point, certainly God would not have created a help-meet for Adam that would make him change for the worse. Thus, Adam has changed but neither for good or ill. It is certainly good that he is no longer alone, but Adam is has not ontologically changed. He was created good and remained so until he chose to rebel against his creator.

[18] cf. William Hasker, “A Philosophical Perspective,” The Openness of God, (Downer’s Grove: InterVarsity Press, 1994), 126-154; John Sanders, The God Who Risks; Jürgen Moltmann, Theology of Hope, (New York: Harper & Row, 1967); Jürgen Moltmann, The Crucified God, (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1993, first published in 1974); Terrence Fretheim, The Suffering of God: An Old Testament Perspective, (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 1984); Clark Pinnock, The Most Moved Mover (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2001); Greg Boyd, The God of the Possible, (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2001) for further nuanced discussions on this matter.

[19] C.S Lewis, The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, (New York: HarperCollins Publishers, 1978).

[20] I am fully aware that an effort at reading any text tabula rasa —particularly the Bible—is an impossibility. Unless, of course, one has amnesia. Nevertheless, any effort to let the Bible speak for itself regarding what is “fitting” and “proper” for God will inevitably yield much fruit. After all, which of us—given the chance to compose the story of creation’s redemption—would have ever brought it about by having the Creator become creature (God-Man), die on a cross, and rise again three days later? Such is the wonder of God’s redemptive grace. Folly and outright stupidity from humanity’s perspective; wisdom and power from God’s perspective. As such, ought we not let God decide for himself what is “fitting” regarding his actions in the world?

[21] Malachi 3.6, nasb.

[22] Hebrews 1.10-12 (quoting Psalm 102.25-27), nrsv.

[23] Definitions vary as to what is meant by such terms, but Stephen Charnock presents a widely accepted understanding, explicating God’s holistic immutability based on Plato’s notions of change and perfection—“If God were changeable, he could not be the most perfect Being….All changeableness implies a corruptibility” (331, 333). He notes the biblical emphasis on God’s immutable character and purposes, but he also asserts an immutability of knowledge, will, and emotions. “All that we consider in God is unchangeable; for his essence and his properties are the same, and, therefore, what is necessarily belonging to the essence of God, belongs also to every perfection of the nature of God; none of them can receive any addition or diminution….There can be no pretence of any changeableness of knowledge in God; but in this case, before things come to pass, he knows that they will come to pass….The being of men makes no more change in God than the sins of men,” (The Existence & Attributes of God: Volume I, Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 1996 reprint), 318, 323, 339.

[24] Some attempt to redefine impassibility in a manner that makes God seem either passable or wholly incomprehensible. For example, in his article in God and Time: Four Views, Paul Helm states that God is not “withdrawn and unfeeling” as opponents argue a timeless, impassible deity becomes. Rather, he argues, God only acts and thus “impassibility in God is not a defect but a perfection; it signals fullness, not deficiency.” Thus, Helm says God is not impassible in a negative, human sense (as withdrawn and uncaring), but he is impassible in a positive, divine sense. He seeks to uphold this tension by arguing that God cannot be passable as humans are, “for passions in us change us; they are affections” and an eternally timeless, unchangeable deity cannot change in this manner. Rather, he argues that God’s emotions and passions are unchanging. “They are fundamental states of mind, part of the divine fullness and glory, and of the engagement of that divine fullness with his creation….an ‘impassible,’ timelessly eternal God may have a fullness of character of which our fitful human emotions are but inadequate shadows,” (Downer’s Grove: InterVarsity, 2001), 39-40.

[25] As Emil Brunner put it so well: “He who is not capable of suffering is also not capable of loving. The one who is most fully of love is also the one who is most capable of suffering,” I Believe in the Living God: Sermons on the Apostles’ Creed, John Holden, translator and editor, (Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1961), 77.

[26] Eugen J. Pentiuc, Long-Suffering Love: A Commentary on Hosea with Patristic Annotations, (Brookline, MA: Holy Cross Orthodox Press, 2002), 40.

[27] Simundson, Hosea, 29. He continues: “God, like the model of a perfect husband, will be trustworthy, true to all promises and commitments, and totally reliable—virtues lacking in Israel’s idolatrous present…God has not changed…The God who loved Israel at the beginning continues to do so” (29-30).

[28] In three refrains (6.4; 11.8-12; 14.8) we find YHWH expressing a mixture of exasperated, yet longing, hoping, continuing love toward his people. “What shall I do with you, O Ephraim? What shall I do with you, O Judah?” He cannot help but love them, for that is his character. He cannot help but seek redemption, for that is his purpose. Yet he is grieved and frustrated over their persistent idolatry. As Gary Smith notes, “Somewhat like frustrated parents who are at their wits end on how to raise a deviant son, God wonders what he can do to bring about real change in his people’s hearts. The internal struggle suggests that he loves Israel and Judah dearly and does not want to punish them. But when they do not respond appropriately, what can he do?” (NIV Application Commentary: Hosea/Amos/Micah, (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2001), 111. What sense would it make for God to express such frustration and bewilderment—this internal struggle with the possibility of letting his people go coupled with his persistent love and desire to be in covenant relationship with them—if he already knew what would happen? It seems difficult to reconcile such plaintive, longing questions within a traditional theistic perspective. One hears echoes of David’s lament over his son Absalom’s rebellion in 2 Sam 18.33, and many traditional theists, it seems, feel the need to play Joab and tell God to act more appropriately given his position.

[29] cf. Maurice Wiles, “Divine Action: Some Moral Consideration” and James M. Gustafson, “Alternative Conceptions of God” who argue for this perspective in The God Who Acts: Philosophical and Theological Explorations, (University Park, PA: The Pennsylvania State University Press, 1994).

[30] 1 Pet 2.9-10 (quoting Hos 2.23), nrsv.

[31] Smith, NIV Application Commentary, 47.

[32] Walter Brueggemann Finally Comes the Poet: Daring Speech for Proclamation, (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1989), 20. He continues: “The truth greatly reduced is that we are under judgment. The truth artistically disclosed is that the throne room of heaven is filled with alarm that the rule of life is mocked in the province where we live….Anger at the throne [of God] is compounded by God’s utter anguish at having hope and been betrayed, at having yearned and failed,” 20-21.

[33] Simundson, 18.

[34] This is a tragic confirmation to say the least. It would be one thing for God to be the all-determining reality who causes all things that occur. Thus, though difficult to reconcile with the biblical witness, one could embrace a deterministic vantage point, asserting that all of this is according to God’s will. However, given that God (through Hosea) proclaims that this is his response to Israel’s continue idolatry and unrepentant behavior, the judgment is even more tragic. As C.S. Lewis put it: “There are only two kinds of people in the end: those who say to God, ‘Thy will be done,’ and those to whom God says, in the end, ‘Thy will be done,’” The Great Divorce, (New York: HarperCollins Publishers, 1946), 75.

[35] Simundson, 18.

[36] “The Hebrew text of Hosea’s book is one of the more corrupt in the entire Old Testament, comparable only to that of Job,” Pentiuc, Long-Suffering Love, 10.

[37] Gregory A. Boyd, “The Open-Theism View,” Divine Foreknowledge: Four Views, James K. Beilby and Paul R. Eddy, ed., (Downer’s Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2001), 41-42.

[38] In his book Repenting of Religion: Turning from Judgment to the Love of God (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2004), Greg Boyd makes the same point regarding the ministry of Christ: “Jesus reveals that God sacrifices himself for sinful humanity. By sacrificing himself for us, God ascribes unsurpassable worth to people who in and of themselves have little apparent worth. In doing this, God reveals his nature, which is eternal, unsurpassable love…Jesus completely abolishes all ordinary ideas and expectations people have of a Supreme Being….To know the crucified Christ is to know all we need to know about the Supreme Being, “34-35. And is this not revealed in the parable of the prodigal son whose father shuns social conventions—behavior and actions deemed “proper”—to run and embrace his son? (cf. Lk 15.11-32)

[39] Again, it depends upon one’s definition of impassibility. Sanders chapter in The God Who Risks is quite helpful in explicating what the early father meant—and the Bible seems to reveal—about God’s impassibility. It is not connoting a deity who cannot be affected by another, but one who does in fact grieve and mourn and wish and hope, but who is not overcome by such emotion that he acts in a manner that is, as we say, out of character. As Sanders summarized: “Though there is no single definition of impassibility in the fathers, generally speaking they meant only that God could not suffer physically since God was not embodied or that God could not be forced to suffer or that God is not overcome by emotions as we are apt to do,” 141.

[40] “If only God weren’t such a stickler for letting people make up their own minds without coercing them” Frederick Buechner quips. Peculiar Treasures: A Biblical Who’s Who, (New York: Harper & Row, 1979), 9.

[41] C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity, (New York: Macmillan, 1952), 56.

Numbers

Numbers

Numbers are an interesting entity. They, in a very real sense, make the world go round. They allow us to measure and assess. They allow us to comprehend the reality we see before us. They are important and necessary to function and relate to our surroundings.

Think about it. We have telephone numbers so people can reach us. We have numbered addresses so that people can find our home or business. Don’t you like having an actual address rather than having to find the yellow house with the black front door about half-way down Main Street? The amount we have in checking and savings lets us know how we’re doing financially. And the numbers most important and essential are those found on the clock on your wall or on your wrist, letting us know when it’s time to get up, to go to a meeting, to take a break, to go home, to go to bed.

Numbers are everywhere and a part of everything we do. They are essential.

The tragedy for the Church is that numbers have come to dominate our process of assessment. They define our churches. They measure how well (or how poorly) we are doing. Numbers alone become the yardstick of success or failure. And, to me, that’s tragic and regrettable.

Think about it. What are the questions most frequently asked about your church or my church or any church? Well, certainly there are many that could be and are asked on occasion. What time do you meet? Are there a couple services to choose from? What type of worship do you have? Do you have Sunday School or small groups or both? These are typical and common. But the questions that are most common are those pertaining to numbers. How many did you have this week? How many people attend your church on average? Are you growing or shrinking?

The “health” of a church (or lack thereof) reduced to numbers. Tragic, but true. Regrettable, yet commonplace.

When did this happen? When did the amount of people who showed up at a building week in and week out become equated with successful ministry? What if there are thousands upon thousands who attend your weekly activities but they don’t grasp that the Christian life is learning what it means to follow Jesus and then seeking every day—often with much stumbling and blundering—to follow him? What if you have to add multiple services and construct a new building to accommodate all your attendees but they are only coming because they like the music or you have AWANA or any other reason that you’ve heard?

Yet this is precisely what happens when numbers are the yardstick of success. You plan and innovate and strategize to boost numbers rather than seeking to help one another along in the effort to better grasp the good news taught by Jesus. You reduce the Christian life to “lights, camera, action” at the shows (I mean, the services) and fail to “do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with God.”

What would happen if you quit taking attendance? What would have if you simply did not take role in your church? You had a list of attendees so that you could keep in touch, certainly, but no total number of members, no weekly attendance sheets, no numbers that would define your church? What would happen?

Maybe, just maybe it would change the mindset of staff and members alike for the better. Maybe we would all wake up and realize that numbers don’t matter. How many you have in attendance is ultimately irrelevant. If you quit caring how well you match up with the churches around you—which, I suspect is what all the numbers are about anyway—and instead started focusing all your energy and effort on seeking to follow Christ as best you can and help those around you to do the same.

I bet your numbers would increase. But you wouldn’t care. You may not even notice. You wouldn’t be thrilled simply because of the fact that your church doubled in size over the last year.

Why? Because you’d be excited that God was working in your midst and that you and others were learning day by day what it means to follow Christ. You’d be excited about seeing your church, your neighborhood, your city, your nation, and your world being transformed through ordinary people who set aside their concern over numbers and turned their focus and attention and energy to a world in need of the world-encompassing, world-transforming good news of great joy. You’d be excited to see grace and mercy and hope offered in Jesus’ name. You’d be hopeful as you see the world become a better place. You’d be overjoyed to see God’s kingdom coming and God’s will being done—little by little—on earth as it is in heaven.

So, how many attended your church last week? Don’t know. Don’t care.

The better question is this: How many who attended understand the life-encompassing gospel of Jesus and what it means to follow him?