Was Jesus Really Crucified Instead of You?

In the church of my youth, and for much of my Christian adulthood, the cross was understood as ‘penal substitution’ – punishment for sins that you and I should receive, imposed on Jesus in our place. In other words, penal substitution argues that you and I deserve to be crucified for our flaws.

Penal substitution argues that we are so characterised by sin in God’s eyes that each of us should have hung on Calvary’s cross. It states that Jesus took our place, receiving the wrath of God that would otherwise be ours. Penal substitution is everywhere in Evangelicalism. A quick google search will bring up numerous hymns and worship sings tying self-loathing to gratitude – a seductive and poisonous concoction I believe undermines the mental health of all who drink it.

Today, I want to examine penal substitution to measure its validity as a theory of redemption. Did Jesus literally die in my place? Does it make sense? How does it work? Is this a Biblical notion?

Did Jesus die for individual sins or for the collective sins of the world?

In my youth, I was taught that Jesus paid for my individual sins, which presents insurmountable practical difficulties. From the Biblical records, we know Jesus hung on the cross for a limited period of time, generally accepted to be about six hours, which is 21,600 seconds. Let’s be generous and say that on this calendar day, a billion sins have been committed around the globe – a billion actions that harm either the perpetrator or another person (to understand this better, take a look at a previous article on the nature of sin).

If Jesus paid for each sin in a linear fashion, today’s batch would leave him only 0.0000216 seconds per transgression. He’d have to cover nearly 5,000 sins every passing second – a fleeting moment to pay for 5,000 harmful acts, including murder, rape, and other terrible acts of harm. If we divide those six hours further, incorporating every day of human history, the numbers become incompressibly silly. If Jesus paid for each act of sin in this way, he would have no time to dwell on any of them, and even history’s most genocidal despots would be passed over in a nanosecond – Hitler, Stalin, and Mussolini’s sins, covered in the blink of an eye.

For this reason, I can’t accept that Jesus paid for each sin individually, but instead paid for sin (the state and sum of human brokenness) in total.

Were you and I on Jesus’ mind during the crucifixion?

'In Sunday School, I was also taught that Jesus had me in mind when on the cross, but I can’t see how that could be true, mostly for the reasons expressed above – he simply wouldn’t have had time, and while on Earth, was led by the Spirit rather than enjoying the divine privilege of omniscience. The Biblical record shows that his thoughts were for those he walked with in life. We see his concern for his mother, his dearest friend, John, and the man who hung beside him.

What really happened on the cross?

If Jesus wasn’t thinking about you or I, and sin wasn’t paid for in a linear fashion, what was really going on? For me, these paper-thin ideas of atonement are a poor substitute for something infinitely greater. If we consider what the Bible actually teaches, there is much to celebrate. 2 Corinthians 5:21,

‘God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.’

Jesus didn’t just carry sin or pay for sin; he became sin. The perfect Lord of all, who humbled himself to serve his own creation, became all human brokenness. Paying for sin is one thing; becoming sin is far deeper. Jesus became every expression of human brokenness, and more than that, became the cause of all human brokenness, which is judgement. His spiritual agony was so much worse than the physical pain of the cross. It is no wonder the sky darkened, as all that is good became all that is harmful.

It doesn’t stop there. Jesus became sin that we might become the righteousness of God. In turn, this means that we become righteousness as completely as he became sin. The cross, then, is an exchange – of our lack for his supply, our brokenness for his wholeness, our fear for his love, which can all be summed up as our righteousness (the best we have to offer in our own ability) for his righteousness (right-standing with God, forever).

Who or what was punished at the cross?

I agree, then, that the cross is a substitution, but not one that is penal, at least with regards to human beings. There is a punitive element, for sure, but what was being punished and why?

The cross was a battlefield, upon which Jesus slew the two great enemies of humankind – death itself (because he would rise again, and so would we, after his pattern), and sin (brokenness, stemming from judgement, including judgement of the self). If sin and death are the enemy, it is they which are being punished. On the cross, God’s (and our) enemies were dealt a finishing blow, but we are not that enemy. Sin itself is the enemy God punished, by becoming it and ransoming us from its clutches. It was a spectacular victory. Colossians 2:13b-15,

‘He forgave us all our sins, having cancelled the charge of our legal indebtedness, which stood against us and condemned us; he has taken it away, nailing it to the cross. And having disarmed the powers and authorities, he made a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them by the cross.’

This verse demonstrates a crucial truth – that sin and death were destroyed. The enemies of humankind were disarmed, triumphed over, and made a spectacle of. 1 Corinthians 15:55-56, confirms the nature of the cross, and the victory that was won.

‘Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?’

The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.’

Sin and death are the enemies of humankind, but Jesus defeated them at the cross. It is these forces that were punished, and we that were ransomed from their airless grasp.

When I fall to my knees at the foot of the cross, I overflow with gratitude. My heart rejoices at the great exchange, where I give him my poverty, broken-heartedness, captivity, darkness, mourning, ashes, and despair, and receive his good news, healing, freedom, favour, vengeance (against my enemies, sin, and death), comfort, beauty, joy, and spirit of praise.

Jesus identified this great exchange as his Earthly purpose at the commencement of his ministry, when he stood in the Hebrew Temple and read from Isaiah 61:

‘The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me,
because the Lord has anointed me
to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the broken-hearted,
to proclaim freedom for the captives
and release from darkness for the prisoners,
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favour
and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort all who mourn,
and provide for those who grieve in Zion –
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes,
the oil of joy
instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
instead of a spirit of despair.’

The cross is the eternally established exchange, where we stand on Christ’s victory ground, giving him our brokenness and receiving his wholeness. This Great Exchange is the very heart of the Gospel – the Good News of Jesus Christ.

The great harm of penal substitution.

Belief in penal substitution is not without consequence in the lives of believers. To see the cross this way, and to celebrate the sacrifice of Jesus in such a light, we must first define ourselves as dreadful individuals so befouled by sin, we are worthy of a torturous death. Do you really believe that about yourself? I hope not, because anyone who does hasn’t a chance at wellbeing. Psychology teaches that the basis of wellbeing is ‘positive self-regard’ – something that is beyond reach for the person who believes they deserve to be tortured to death for their shortcomings. Theology and wellbeing cannot be separated – what we believe shapes how we feel about ourselves and others, and how we live our lives.

Some of the stern reformists I knew in early adulthood tried to make themselves so small they were beneath divine notice. They identified as servants but did not understand they were also children of God. Their spirituality was dour, heavy, and servile, with little joy in it. They greeted each other as ‘Dirty Rotten Sinner’, and were lauded by others for their devotion, but such talk always made me shudder.

The other day a friend shared a Spurgeon quote on social media, that goes thusly:

‘Brother, if any man thinks ill of you, do not be angry with him; for you are worse than he thinks you to be.’

What a dreadful sentiment! An obsession with sin does not magnify God; it magnifies sin. Jesus taught that loving ourselves is the essential foundation for loving others. Mark 12:31,

‘Love your neighbour as yourself.’ There is no commandment greater than these.”

It follows that if we are to love our neighbours as ourselves, we must first love ourselves. If we hate, look down on, or endlessly criticise ourselves, we will inevitably do the same to others. It’s important to remember that each of us is fundamentally worthy of love because God doesn’t make trash. Psalm 139:14,

'I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.'

Generally speaking, Progressive Christianity has rejected penal substitution, seeing it as cruel and unjust, inducing self-loathing. Although I accept those reasons, I’m also convinced it’s unbiblical – a joining of dots that do not belong in the same image. As that image clarifies, we meet the gaze of Jesus.

It disturbs me that the Bride of Christ has been taught to hate Herself; that pastors and teachers all over the world are telling their flocks they are disgusting and worthy of a torturous death, followed by eternity in Hell. I am convinced we have missed the point of the cross when we go down this road. May the Holy Spirit liberate us from the damaging doctrine of penal substitution, and may we discover the freedom to embrace the unconditional love of God.