You are what you love (Jonathan Storment)

Last updated on: March 30, 2016 at 6:39 am By Scot McKnight

You Are What You Love Part 1

A few years ago, James K.A. Smith wrote an outstanding book called Desiring the Kingdom that changed the way I saw ministry. It was incisive and painful and helpful all at the same time, because it helped me to name some of the problems that I was seeing in church work.

Namely, it helped me with the problematic question of why, with all the resources and energy and time that we in Western Churches are pouring into discipleship and worship, are Jesus followers not actually, you know, following Jesus? I’m not suggesting that there aren’t any disciples in our churches, but I think just about any pastor you ask will readily admit that the there is a vast difference between the numbers of members in their church and the number of disciples of Jesus.

But why is that?

And that’s where Desiring the Kingdom was so helpful. The problem was that DTK was pretty dense, and hard to unpack, it wasn’t exactly a book that I could recommend to a lot of my friends. And so I was very excited to see last month that Smith was writing a more accessible version of his ideas in his recently released book You Are What You Love.

This past week, I read it, and immediately knew I wanted to tell as many church leaders about it as possible. So over the next few weeks, I want to blog through this book. I hope to encourage as many of you as possible to read it, and see if his ideas don’t ring true to your own experience as well. He answered questions for me that I didn’t even know I ought to be asking, and gave answers to some questions that I think most pastors ask everyday.

Like that question I mentioned above, why do we talk so much about discipleship, but are so poor at making disciples? Smith would say, it’s because we love the wrong things, in the wrong ways. The truth is all of us are disciples, and we’re probably pretty good disciples, of what we love.

We just aren’t aware of what we really love, or how much our loves matter.

So how do we go about changing this problem? Well the most important question to start with is asking ourselves “what do you want? According to Smith, this is the question. “It is the first, last, and most fundamental question of Christian discipleship.” In fact, discipleship, is really a way to curate your heart, to be attentive to and intentional about what you love.

In the first chapter, Smith illustrates this point with a little heard of foreign movie Stalker.

The movie is set in a post-apocalyptic world, kind of like The Road It’s a world returning to nature after some kind of global disaster. And in this movie there are three main characters, the Writer, the Professor, and Stalker. They are all heading to find some place ambiguously called “the Room.”

Stalker has been there before, and he is leading the other two. As they get closer, Stalker tells them why they are going to the Room. He tells them that this is the most important moment of their life. Because in the Room, your innermost wish will be made true. This is the place where you will get exactly what you want…so who wants to go first?

And that’s when the problem begins to dawn on Professor and Writer, the problem that is the human condition but remains largely unspoken and unconsidered Here’s Smith:

Professor and Writer hesitate because it dawns on them: What if I don’t know what I want? “Well…that’s for the Room to decide. The Room reveals all: what you get is not what you think you wish for but what you most deeply wish for. A disturbing epiphany is creeping up on Professor and Writer: What if they don’t want what they think? What if the desires they are conscious of—the one’s they’ve “chosen,” as it were—are not their innermost longings, their deepest wish? What if, in some sense, their deepest longings are humming under their consciousness unawares? What if, in effect, they are not who they think they are? [The Story’s author] captures the angst here: “Not many people can confront the truth about themselves. If they did they’d run a mile, would take an immediate and profound dislike to the person in whose skin they’d learned to sit quite tolerably all these years.”

What if you really got what you wanted? Not what you think you want, but what you really want? Underneath all the stories we tell ourselves about what we think we should want, what are the desires that are humming underneath the surface…really?

This is the premise of Smith’s work, tapping into great thinkers like St. Augustine, Smith is re-introducing our Christian-ish culture to some of the deeper waters of Christianity.

His main idea in the first part of the book is that we are anemic at producing disciples because we ignore our loves. We lost the wisdom of Augustine (that we are what we love) and went with Descartes (I think therefore I am). For the past few hundred years, we’ve believed that humans are basically brains on a stick. That we are, at our core, empty idea receptacles that need to be filled with knowledge will operate solely on the information that they hold.

But that’s not what a human being really is.

We are not primarily what we know, we are, at our most fundamental level what we love.

And this is why we can preach the most eloquent, insightful sermons, have the best Bible class curriculum, the most logical arguments and coherent Christian apologetics, and still look very little like the Jesus we know so much about.

Because we are not primarily driven by information, we are driven by our loves, and we don’t love what we think we do. In fact, we probably don’t even really know what we love.

This is why advertisements don’t focus on filling you up with information about their product, instead the best marketing strategies focus on where change really happens, your loves.

They show you a picture of the product and convince you that this is the good life, they operate at a deeper level than we think. And we like to think that we are immune to this, we see through their strategy and won’t be fooled. But then Smith would ask us, Why are our closets and houses and garages filled with the very products these ads are pedaling all while our lives are crippled with debt?

Because we are driven by what we love, and we don’t love what we think, and realizing this is a great gift. Because it is realizing this that leads us to learn how to actually change our lives, not just our ideas.

Simply put, in the words of Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, “If you want to build a ship, don’t drum up people to collect wood and don’t assign them tasks and work, but rather teach them to long for the endless immensity of the sea.”

No one is driven by abstract ideas or compelled by rules and duties.

We are all driven by love.

And to be a disciple of Jesus is to learn to love the right things.

Faith Works and the Christian Life

Last updated on: March 26, 2016 at 3:40 pm By Scot McKnight

To open his chapter to The Apostle Paul and the Christian Life, Bruce Longenecker, professor at Baylor University, asks this good question, a question that is a poignant example of how the new perspective operates: “What does Paul’s engagement with first-century Jewish covenantalism have to do with Christian life in the twenty-first century?” (47). I know of no old perspective approach to the Christian life that frames the question this way. The old perspective tends reify “works” into bad and “faith” into good, and any talk of “works” in the Christian life considered not a little bit dubious if not dangerous.

Longenecker observes the irony of Galatians — in 2:16 and 3:2, 5, and 10, Paul contrasts faith and works but in 5:6 what matters is “faith working practically through love” (his translation). Ah, he says, works from two angles, one wrong and one right.

At times, Paul’s contribution to Christian theology has been conceived simply in terms of establishing that Christians are free from having to do anything since they enjoy eternal salvation in the heavenly world of perfect glory by means of their faith in Christ. But Paul did not expect the Christian to live a life devoid of “good works. He did not think that Christian activity jeopardizes the eternal destiny of the “soul.” Doing good is not, in fact, foreign to Paul’s view of the Christian life. As we will see, Christian activity is an essential component of Paul’s theologizing about God’s engagement with the world (48).

So Ephesians 2:8-10 is the perfect balance: not by works but created to do good works. The issue is not works or no works, but works of the Torah vs. faith works. What does “faith works” look like?

To live is Christ, acc to Phil 1:21, and largely the same is found in Romans 6. They die to become alive in him and they die for him to become alive in them! (49). What does it look like? It looks like Jesus Christ who comes alive in the Christian. But,

Performing Jesus Christ requires the transformation of moral character, which itself flows from the character-forming influence of the Spirit (51). Or again, when describing his own apostleship, Paul writes the following in 1 Corinthians 15:10: “By the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace toward me has not been in vain. On the contrary, I worked harder than any of them—though it was not I, but the grace of God that is with me.” In Paul’s theologizing about the Christian life, textbook mathematics and commonsense causality are thrown out the window (52). [And this:] For Paul, then, the self-giving of Christians flows from the cruciform self-giving of the Son of God, who gave himself for others.7 In fact, Paul understands self-giving love to be the embodiment and advertisement of the power of God, who, through Christ, is overcoming the chaos that lurks in the crevasses of creation and who is restoring right relationships at every level of the created order (53).

If Christ-shaped life is the positive, the opposite is a community shaped by covetousness. Hence, Galatians 5:20-21. At this point Longenecker enters into territory more centrally present in the apocalyptic school of thought: covetousness brings to expression the cosmic powers, the stoicheia that distort and destroy.

All leading to a multi-ethnic and diverse worship of God the Father in Christ through the Spirit. From p. 61:

In this light, we can see that Paul’s concerns for corporate unity and healthy relationships among disparate identities arise not so much from matters of “social ethics” or “corporate identity” or “ecclesiology” but primarily from matters of theocentric worship (61).

To us, the word love might sound like emotional sentimentality; bearing burdens might sound like a pastoral nicety; becoming slaves to one another might sound like a metaphorical platitude. For Paul, however, these were part of the arsenal in a cosmic battle against dysfunctional forces that collude to corrupt and corrode a world that God is reclaiming through Christ, to his praise and glory (62).

So, what is the problem with “works of the Torah”?

The answer must be somewhere along the following lines: because Paul perceived the moral configuration of the gospel to lie at the christological axis of self-giving, he saw the attempt to force gentiles to be circumcised a form of opposition to the moral configuration at the heart of the Christian gospel precisely because be saw it as an unhealthy form of “centrism” It represented the attempt by certain Christians to promote their own cherished identity over other forms of legitimate identity (66).

Supersessionistic? Hardly:

The only thing to note for our present purposes is how the story of the self-giving Jesus absorbs the potentially damaging centrism of some forms of Torah observance and metamorphoses it into healthy self-giving, in which the Torah ironically finds its true fulfillment (68-69).

And They Become One Flesh (RJS)

Last updated on: March 25, 2016 at 6:09 am By RJS

With consideration of Genesis 2 the series of posts on Genesis intersects those on biblical womanhood.

Genesis 2 provides a creation account both distinct from an complementary to the creation account of Genesis 1. In both accounts the culmination of creation is human beings, male and female, placed in God’s sacred space to be his image – a royal priesthood tending his garden. There are many aspects of Genesis 2 that could be used to shape this post. The difference in the order of creation and the impact this should have on our understanding of the creation accounts in scripture. The importance of the garden as a royal space next to the king’s palace. The significance of the named rivers and the trees. These are all important and have all come up in posts in the past. Today, however, I would like to focus on man and woman, male and female.

All three of the commentaries shaping this series on Genesis (Tremper Longman III, Genesis in the Story of God Bible Commentary, John Walton, The NIV Application Commentary Genesis and Bill Arnold, Genesis (New Cambridge Bible Commentary)) comment explicitly on the nature of humankind as male and female and its significance in the creation account. The first point, on which all three authors would agree, we need to avoid reading modern questions and answers back into Genesis 2, expecting it to address questions that were not important to an ancient audience. Our current questions about complementarian or egalitarian relationships, and more significantly about women in ministry, simply weren’t the burning questions for the original author or audience. Genesis 2 has much to say about the partnership between a man and a woman, but little to say about the other issues.

First, the text:

Genesis 1:26-28 notes the creation of humankind with a purpose and a mission. There is no distinction, just a recognition of male and female. “So God created humankind in his image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.“

Genesis 2 goes into more detail about the relationship between male and female.

The Lord God said, “It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him.”

…

But for Adam no suitable helper was found. So the Lord God caused the man to fall into a deep sleep; and while he was sleeping, he took one of the man’s ribs and then closed up the place with flesh. Then the Lord God made a woman from the rib he had taken out of the man, and he brought her to the man. The man said, “This is now bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh; she shall be called ‘woman,’ for she was taken out of man.” That is why a man leaves his father and mother and is united to his wife, and they become one flesh. (v. 18-24)

The word play in English woman from man is also present in the Hebrew, the ishshah was taken out of the ish. The point is that the women belongs to the same category as the man – they are human beings. Much has been made of the word translated “helper” in v. 18 and 20. The NRSV translates suitable helper as “a helper as his partner.” The intent is not to establish a hierarchy but to establish a partnership. Arnold, Longman, and Walton all agree on this point.

Bill Arnold comments:

The phrase itself, “a helper as his partner” occurs only here in the Bible. The compound preposition kĕnegdô implies complementarity (hence the NRSV’s “as his partner”), so the need is for someone “corresponding to him” as his counterpart. While in English the term, “helper” may imply subordinate or inferior rank, this is not the case in Hebrew. Various uses of the verb ‘zr, “help, support” refer to God’s help for humans or of military help, and the noun ‘ēzer, “help(er)” can likewise be used of God. In such cases there is no hint of inferiority or subservience. … Indeed, this story of human origins may be related to the lives of ordinary women in the highland villages of early Israel, whose societal and household roles may be reconstructed on the basis of archaeological and anthropological parallels. Prior to the monarchy, the subsistence work of families required the interdependence of men and women to perform the tasks facing families, such as clearing the rocky land for agriculture and producing children to help with the farming. At this early stage of Israelite thought, egalitarian views of the roles of men and women were God-given and unquestioned. (p. 60)

Tremper Longman makes a similar point on the word ezer.

Some people believe that a “helper” implies subordination, but nothing could be further from the truth. The Hebrew word “helper” (ezer) is not equivalent to the English word “valet.” How do we know this? The psalms frequently refer to God as Israel’s helper (Pss 33:30, 89:18-19; see also Deut. 33:39), and, of course, God is not Israel’s valet. In military contexts, the word ezer is translated “ally.” Indeed, since we will see that there are threats to the garden (the serpent), ally may work for this context as well. This ally is “suitable to” or “corresponding to” him. The emphasis is on equality throughout the description of the woman in Genesis 2. (p. 50)

John Walton digs into the Hebrew a bit more completely in his commentary and in doing so gives more appreciation for the difficulties inherent in translating an ancient text in a “dead” language. However, he comes to a similar conclusion. Walton points out that Adam finding companionship with a woman runs counter to trends in Mesopotamian literature. In the Gilgamesh Epic, Enkidu find animal companionship satisfactory until he is seduced by a prostitute. How different the picture in Genesis 2! With respect to “a helper suitable for him” Walton points out that “nothing suggests a subservient status of the one helping; in fact the opposite is more likely. Certainly “helper” cannot be understood as the opposite/complement of “leader.”” (p. 176) His reasons are similar to those provided by Arnold and Longman. Elsewhere the word is used with God as the subject or in the context of military alliances. Concerning the phrase translated in the NIV as “a helper suitable for him,” Walton concludes “I would choose a translation such as “partner” or “counterpart.” The former better reflects the “helper” part of the combination, while the latter better reflects the compound word. If we could make up words, “counterpartner” would be a great one.” (p. 177)

Others have suggested that in the Genesis 2 story, the original man was not male, but simply human, an earthling. Male and female are two parts of one whole. Iain Provan in Seriously Dangerous Religion notes “The special place of human beings in the cosmos is in this way underscored. Only another image bearer will suffice as a partner for ’adam…. And so the earthling is divided and becomes male and female.” (p. 89)

Marriage as partnership. The institution of marriage is important to this idea of woman as the ally and counterpartner of man. Arnold comments “Thus marriage is not simply about romance or raising a family, but about reuniting tow parts of a sexual whole. The mysterious power driving the sexes together is explained in the common fleshly bond they had in the primordial communal unity of the first two humans, which becomes a paradigm for all marriages.” (p. 61) Whereas in a patriarchal society the woman leaves and joins the man’s family, the emphasis in Genesis 2 is on the man leaving father and mother and becoming one with his wife. That both leave and join together is an important part of the partnership envisioned. The only time Jesus refers to the creation story it is to highlight the importance of marriage and the alliance between man and woman. Polygamy, divorce and the like are accommodated at times, but were never God’s ideal plan (e.g. Matt 19:3-11).

John Walton elaborates on the function of marriage, agreeing with Arnold. Reproduction is an important part of the human mission, but is not the sole purpose of marriage and it is not the purpose of woman, as though the man would otherwise be fine alone or in the company of animals.

At the same time, the text does not suggest that woman was created merely to be a reproduction partner. It is one of her functions (the text is providing for reproduction), but it is not her purpose. Adam was not looking among the animals for something to reproduce by. Yet he was looking for something, since the texts says that what he was searching for was not found (v. 20). His identification of Eve as his counterpart in verse 23 suggests that she was the counterpart for which he was searching.

When Adam identified the roles and functions of each of the animals, he realized that none could serve as a partner in the functions that he was serving, – functions related to the blessing from 1:28-29 as elaborated in chapter 2, namely, subduing and ruling (1:28, i.e., extending the garden), serving and preserving the garden (2:15), and being fruitful and multiplying (1:28). Woman becomes his partner in all of these functions. Only such a “counterpartner” could serve the function of reproduction partner, but reproduction is not thereby the purpose of the counterpartner. (p. 187-188)

The ultimate purpose for marriage as a partnership between man and woman to serve as God’s images in the world is fulfilled whether children result or not. Longman agrees. “Significantly, marriage is not here defined as including childbearing as an essential part. … Of course, the Bible delights in children; they are a gift from God (Ps 127:3-5), but they are not part of the divine definition of marriage.” (p. 55) And this means that sexual intimacy in marriage is a gift to be enjoyed, whether it can result in children or not.

Nothing in this passage signifies hierarchy or male headship in marriage. The passage doesn’t address other contexts or issues.

What is the significance of woman as a suitable partner or “counterpartner?”

What is the purpose of woman in this passage?

What is the purpose of marriage?

If you wish to contact me directly you may do so at rjs4mail[at]att.net.

If interested you can subscribe to a full text feed of my posts at Musings on Science and Theology.

The Fossils Say No! (RJS)

Last updated on: August 1, 2017 at 3:15 pm By RJS

But what do the fossils say no to? (Spoiler: It isn’t evolution.)

I’ve been summarizing and reviewing Robert Asher’s book Evolution and Belief: Confessions of a Religious Paleontologist. Dr. Asher is a specialist in mammalian evolution as evidenced in the fossil record. He is Curator of Vertebrates at the Museum of Zoology, Cambridge UK. In previous chapters he ran through the evidence for transitional species in the fossil record. The appearance of mammals and the evolution of elephants were considered in detail. We all find the mammoth and mastodon impressive.

Today we will look at the evolution of whales and then consider Asher’s summary of the evidence for transitional species in the fossil record. Creationist claims that these are absent or sparse are inaccurate.

The evolution of whales. A powerful example of evolution is found in the evidence for the gradual appearance whales some 50 million years ago … from land mammals related to modern even-toed ungulates to fully aquatic “fish”. In fact, whales are one of the most commonly cited examples where a string of intermediate forms have been identified (image is a Basilosaurus fossil). Many of these fossils retain clear evidence of hind limbs gradually disappearing through the generations. If you click on the image above you can see the hind limbs in the lower right corner. These are rudimentary, perhaps of use in reproduction, but certainly not for locomotion.

A less commonly cited element of whale evolution is the divergence of toothed and baleen whales. The oldest whales were toothed like their land dwelling ancestors. The Basilosaurus above had some pretty impressive teeth. The baleen whales (filter feeders like the blue whale and the humpback) diverged from this line, likely beginning some forty million years ago or so. Paleontologists have identified a series of fossils exhibiting the development of the baleen and the loss of teeth as well as the gradual development of other features observed in baleen whales.

The features characteristic of today’s baleen whales did not appear fully formed all at once. Many fossil species exhibit a mixture of features. Some early ancestors had both teeth and what appears to be the beginning of baleen. Aetiocetus provides one such example, although the evidence for baleen is indirect rather than direct (baleen, being a “keratinous substance similar to your fingernails” doesn’t fossilize readily like teeth and bones, image: source). Dr. Asher notes that the presence of a baleen in Aetiocetus is still a subject of investigation and discussion. However, there is substantial evidence that whales with a combination of baleen and teeth existed for some ten million years alongside both toothed and baleen whales before going extinct.

Modern genetics shines more light in this issue. No living adult baleen whale has both functional teeth and baleen. However, baleen whales do have genes and pseudo-genes for teeth. Asher points out that “modern baleen whales begin the process of tooth formation prior to birth. “Teeth” in a minke whale never fully form or break the gums, but they do at least begin to develop and their rudiments can be seen in fetal specimens.” (p. 137) Figure 7.4 in the book illustrates the presence of rudimentary teeth in a fetus. Three major genes important for the formation of enameled teeth were included by Deméré and colleagues in a broad study of baleen whale evolution (Systematic Biology, 57: 15-37, 2008).

DMP I (dentin matrix acidic phosphoprotein), AMBN (ameloblastin) and ENAM (enamelin). DMP I is known to contribute to the development of not only dentine but also other tissues such as bone and cartilage. The AMBN and ENAM proteins appear to express most strongly in the process of enamel formation in developing teeth. (P. 137)

…

They found that all three genes (DMP I, AMBN, ENAM) are present in baleen whales, but the two enamel-specific ones, AMBN and ENAM, have lost their enamel-producing function. Unlike the sequences in toothed whales (dolphin), even-toed ungulates (hippo, cow, pig, camel), and other mammals (human, mouse, rat, dog), their samples of these genes in modern baleen whales exhibited what are called frameshift mutations. That is, the basic sequences of AMBN and ENAM are present, but are missing critical elements that keep them from finishing what they do in other mammals, namely, synthesize proteins relevant to the formation of tooth enamel. Interestingly, such mutations were not present in the third protein [probably a typo – should be gene], DMP I, which is demonstrably involved in processes besides tooth formation, such as bone and cartilage development. (p. 138)

Asher argues that these genetic remnants are hard to rationalize in any special creation model, especially a young earth model, but are entirely consistent with evolution by natural selection. This is what evolutionary theory predicts if a baleen whale evolved from toothed ancestors. Once upon a time these genes served an important function still served in other mammals, but they are unnecessary in the baleen whales. The remnants remain because they have no negative influence for the current generation. They accumulate errors because in the first instance the absence of function may be an advantage and once the gene is turned off there is no selective pressure to preserve the gene sequence.

We know that the fetuses of modern baleen whales have the capacity to initiate the development of both teeth and baleen (Figure 7.4). The AMBN and ENAM genes present in baleen whales provide an example of what are known as genetic fossils, discoveries of which are becoming increasingly common elsewhere in the biological world. Again, such genetic fossils are not simply cases of suboptimal design. They demonstrate not only that animals retain genetic remnants of structures that are now of little or no use to them; they also represent signposts indicative of the specific part of the Tree of Life from which the animal involved evolved. Baleen whales descended from other animals with teeth, and their enamel pseudogenes (among other lines of evidence) prove it. (p. 138-139)

Transitional species are abundant in the fossil record. In many instances these transitions are corroborated by “genetic fossils” present in the genomes of modern species and by developmental stages in the embryo and fetus.

The Problem with Creationism. In the next chapter, Creationism: The Fossils Still Say No!, Asher digs deeper into some of the issues confronting anti-evolutionary creationism. First, the examples he has discussed in the preceding chapters (mammals, elephants, and whales) represent the tip of the iceberg. Examples of mixed anatomical features (i.e. transitional species) abound in the fossil record. In a table on pp. 144-149 he summarizes some of the more conspicuous examples. One hundred and forty eight examples … over one hundred of them from papers published between 2000 and 2010. The supporting evidence is growing rapidly. The number could be much larger today, some five or six years after Evolution and Belief was completed. As Asher says …

This list is by no means complete, but it’s a good starting point for anyone who wants to consider creationist claims that “transitional sequences are rare, at best” or that “in the overwhelming majority of cases, Common Descent does not match the evidence of the fossil record.” In contrast to these absurd statements from Explore Evolution, the reality is that the fossil record really does match the predictions of exolution by natural selection and goes far beyond the early synapsids, elephants, and whales that I’ve summarized in this book. (p. 143)

Explore Evolution: The Arguments for and Against Neo-Darwinism is a text by Stephen C. Meyer and colleagues. Asher uses this as an unfortunate example of anti-evolution books. He finds it particularly egregious because it misrepresents work by several of his friends and colleagues (and in the process gives Christianity a bad name). He quotes a passage from the book and then continues:

All of these individuals have spent their professional lives documenting something that this passage claims does not exist: an abundance of extinct animals that exhibit a mosaic of anatomical features found in different living groups, including early amniotes, basal synapsids, dinosaurs and birds, and early cousins of placental mammals. All of these scientists disagree emphatically with the creationist overtones of Explore Evolution, yet somehow their names appear spliced alongside phrases like “critics argue that Darwin’s theory has failed an important test.” (p. 142)

This kind of misrepresentation is directly responsible for much of the bad rap that Christians get in scientific circles, especially among biologists and paleontologists. The consequences are significant. Misrepresentation may soothe the already convinced, but it pushes away the scientists and many others as well. “Even reasonable arguments made by ID advocates on certain, specific philosophical issues involving the origin of life or a possible agency behind the cosmos (see below) are received with hostility because most evolutionary biologists associate them with the blatant misquotation summarized above (and in Chapter 9).” (p. 151) Any hint of creationism can spark an outpouring of anger and strong language. A recent knee-jerk reaction to a probable translation error in a paper by several Chinese authors provides a case in point.

Asher has hard words as well for the scientists, atheistic evolutionists, who make the connection to philosophical naturalism, as though Darwinian evolution proves the non-existence of God. These people “fuel the membership rolls of various anti-Darwin movements that perpetually feed off of this misunderstanding of how evolution relates to, and is limited by, human scientific inquiry.” Richard Dawkins leads the parade, although he is far from the only culprit. Asher points out that the discussion confuses agency and cause or mechanism. Both statements: “I don’t believe in evolution because God did it” and “I don’t believe in God because evolution did it” make the same naïve error. Science cannot really say anything about the existence of God or about any agency behind creation. It can tell us about “natural” processes including those in the past. Asher notes that the inability of science to address the question of God is “more indicative of the limits of science than the lack of a deity.” (p. 153) He concludes: “Evolutionary biology is not about the origin of life or the existence of God. It is about how living things are interconnected through a specific natural mechanism, one which we can understand through the fossil record, individual development, and molecular biology.” (p. 153)

Misrepresentation, misquoting, misunderstanding, assuming the worst, … one might think we all were fallen!

Seriously though, this is a real problem in our secular society as it drives a wedge between Christians and non-Christians, making reasonable discussion difficult.

What kind of evidence for evolution is convincing?

Is it important to quote sources accurately, including intent not merely words?

Asher’s last summary of evolution … “it is about how living things are interconnected through a specific natural mechanism” … makes an important point. Evolutionary theory isn’t about taking God out of the picture. It is a comprehensive theory that explains a wide range of observations concerning interconnections.

Does this match your understanding of the nature of evolutionary biology?

If you wish to contact me directly you may do so at rjs4mail[at]att.net.

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Abusers and the Language of Complementarianism

Last updated on: March 17, 2016 at 4:57 pm By Scot McKnight

By Maureen Farrell Garcia. She is the author of various articles including”Groomed for Abuse” and “Sex Offenders in Our Midst.” When she’s not researching sexual abuse dynamics, she reads, writes, and teaches writing at Nyack College in NYC. She would love for you to connect with her on Twitter: @mfarrellgarcia

Ruth A. Tucker’s new book, Black and White Bible, Black and Blue Wife is stirring up some discussion. While I am grieved to learn that our experiences have significant parallels, at the same time, I am proud of her resilience and excited by her new work.

Of course, not everyone is as excited by Tucker’s work as I. For example, Tim Challies’ review discourages his audience from reading it.

Tucker has responded here to Challie’s objections. Therefore, my two cents will focus on how Challies’ response unfortunately and unintentionally functions as an act of alliance with abusers. Now, please do not misunderstand me. I am not claiming that Tim Challies is, in any way, abusive. I will be using Challies’ review as an illustration of just one example that reveals how many of us in the Christian community respond to abuse and why these responses should be cause for concern and need to be changed.

Having said that, let’s look at Challies’ recent review:

In the first paragraph, Challies considers Tucker’s biographical account a success. Yet, he then explicitly, and with an unfortunate passive verb phrase, claims her “critique of complementarian theology…falls prey to significant flaws.”

Consider Challies’ fourth paragraph which unpacks and appears to affirm Tucker’s work. He states, “Tucker’s story raises a host of important issues and concerns about matters of abuse.” Okay. So far, so good. He continues, “I appreciated…I gained insight…I benefited from her…reflections…and her willingness to ask and answer very difficult questions…I was shocked …by Christian[s]…[refusal] to help…and [their] judgmental counsel…As a Christian and a church leader I gained important knowledge from reading her book and I believe it will help me grow in compassion and understanding towards those who are in similar situations.” He concludes this paragraph by expressing his gratitude for all this.

This seems to be a positive, even excellent, appraisal of Tucker’s work. Challies writes, “Her story of suffering is, I fear, all too common and highlights one of the church’s great failings.” In light of all his praise and his critique of the church’s failure in handling abuse, it appears Challies suggests Tucker’s book is an important work, particularly relevant now.

But does he? Simply put, explicitly yes he does, meaning that he states directly his praise. Now here’s where it gets tricky.

Even though he states that he personally learned and gained much from Black and White Bible, Black and Blue Wife, his refusal to recommend that others read it, reveals that he does not actually value the information and benefits he expresses gratitude for.

When abusers read the conclusion to Challies’ review they do a dance. Why? Because, while Challies seems to claim that Tucker’s book has value, his concluding claim, “I can not recommend this book” nullifies his previous claims that Tucker’s experiences as an abuse survivor, and her resulting book, have worth.

Whenever Christians devalue abuse survivors’ experiences and knowledge, we reinforce the abusers’ beliefs that victims/survivors are less valuable then they are, that victims/survivors will not be believed, and that they, the abusers, can continue to abuse with impunity.

In this case Challies states why he cannot recommend Tucker’s book and in doing so reveals his priorities of value. For Challies, Tucker’s abusive experiences and knowledge about abusers is just not as valuable as his concern for complementarianism. To put it as starkly as possible, Challies has allied himself with abusers in using his platform to recommend to his readers that they not read Tucker’s work, in effect silencing her, simply because she does not agree with him on one nonessential belief of Christianity.

Abusers seek to silence victims/survivors, particularly concerning their experiences and knowledge of abuse, and when we do the same we are abusive allies. In addition, the act of silencing a victim/survivor based on their differing beliefs is not only acting as an ally. It mirrors the behaviors of abusers.

Abusers refuse to allow differences of opinion. One must capitulate all their beliefs and ideas to the abusers’ or suffer consequences. When Challies mirrors this behavior it tells abusers that their expectations that victim/survivors should agree with everything they believe or else be silenced is not only the correct way to behave, but that this is the way Christian complementarians behave, and that Christians sanction this very behavior, regardless of what they may say explicitly to the contrary.

As I have written elsewhere, in order for Christian communities to become safe places for the vulnerable and for victim/survivors to heal, we must make space to highlight their stories and experiences of abuse. This shows that we value them and their voices, that we take their experiences seriously, and that we are willing to experience their stories as well as the vicarious suffering we experience when we empathize.

It also highlights, to potential abusers, that victims are given a platform, that they will be believed, and that to abuse in this environment is not safe for the abuser.

Now I assume, from years of reading Tim Challies’ blog, that being an ally to abusers is not who he wants to be. Perhaps he would be surprised to learn that Anna C. Salter, an abuse expert he quotes on his blog, and other abuse experts, such as Lundy Bancroft, fiercely claim that the real experts of abuse are those who have suffered it.

Tucker, myself, and far too many others, know what abusers think, what they believe, how they manipulate and charm, and what they do behind closed doors. I am hoping, based on past experiences of Tim’s expressions of humility in writing, that perhaps he will now be more open to listening, really listening, to the ways abusers justify their abuse with complementarian theology.

Eternal Conscious Torment: The, or One, View? (by John Frye)

Last updated on: March 18, 2016 at 7:29 am By Scot McKnight

By John Frye

I came into the Christian community as a Junior Higher. Our family began attending a Bible church which was part of small coalition of independent fundamental churches. Not knowing at the time, I was immersed in a rigid, legalistic, dispensationalist version of fundamentalism. Hell was a destiny of fiery pain forever and ever for all who “did not accept Jesus as their Savior.” A vestige of those early roots linger in my soul. This view of hell was taught in the Bible college and seminary I attended. Through the years I noticed that while many fundamentalists and evangelicals do believe in Eternal Conscious Torment (ECT), it wasn’t a doctrine that was part of daily Christian conversations. Hell became a “skeleton in God’s closet” as Joshua Ryan Butler has creatively expressed. I admit that until reviewing this book, Four Views of Hell, I haven’t done much serious theological reflection on this weighty topic.

Denny Burk writes in defense of ECT. The texts of Scripture should be “the ultimate arbiter of the debate” (17). Using ten foundational texts—Isaiah 66:22-24; Daniel 12:2-3; Matthew 18:6-9; 25:31-46; Mark 9:42-48; 2 Thessalonians 1:6-10; Jude, 7,10; Revelation 14:9-11; 20:10, 14-15—Burk argues the Bible clearly teaches that hell is 1) final separation from God forever, 2) un-ending experience (ECT), and 3) just retribution, displaying God’s justice, holiness, and glory. The ECT view will become a “source of joy and praise for the saints” (20).

Burk does engage with the various meanings of Hebrew ‘olām and Greek aiônios (forever) and with competing views of Gehenna. Burk believes that the emotional revulsion that many have to ECT (he cites Stott) tips their hand that they are letting emotions override the clear meaning of the Bible, while admitting that others object to ECT on exegetical and theological grounds (which is made clear in the other three views in the book). As a matter of fact, Jerry L. Walls, who writes for the purgatorial view, thinks Burk has made a solid case for ECT, but disagrees with Burk about the purpose of ECT.

Burk, while eschewing emotionalism, opens with a “parable” about a person pulling the legs off a grasshopper. The point of the unfolding parable is that sin is measured not by the sin itself but by who is sinned against. He writes that it is a “theological principle” that “to sin against an infinitely glorious being is an infinitely heinous offense that is worthy of an infinitely heinous punishment” (20). He repeats this principle often in his essay. It seems reasonable.

John Stackhouse takes issue with this theological principle. “…Burk shows precisely nowhere in the Bible a single passage in which this argument in actually made” (45). Even Walls, who agrees with much of Burk’s view, writes “However, the attempt to deduce ‘infinitely heinous offense that is worthy of an infinitely heinous punishment’ from the notion of infinite glory is rather dubious” (56). Burk presents a deduction from a parable and then reads texts in view of the deduction.

As I read Burk’s analyses of the texts, a red flag went up in my mind, at this: “Though not specifically mentioned in this text [Isaiah 66:22-24], this scene seems to assume that God’s enemies have been given a body fit for unending punishment” (23 emphasis mine). That was a new concept to me. My question was, “Where are the Bible verses for that?” Stackhouse can’t believe God will resurrect “zombies” who are “perpetually living undead.” Will God actually raise to life unrepentant dead people and give them living bodies “fit” so they can consciously experience ECT? Chapter and verse, please. As Stackhouse wonders about the term die, “But what precisely no one can conclude is that God was threatening that ‘in the day you eat of it you shall die—by which I mean, you will actually live forever, if very unpleasantly” (75). “Die” cannot mean “not die.”

Allowing that Burk does not have all the space he needs (in this edition) to write against the three competing views, he doesn’t even admit that the other views have both exegetical and theological foundations. In my opinion, at times Burk seemed to be simply proof-texting his view as if “the Bible says it, I believe it, that settles it.” The other views have been around in the church as long as the ECT view. Robin Parry accepts Burk’s two destinies texts and only wanted to see Burk bring them alongside and reconciled with “the global-salvation, universalism” texts (50).

All the contributors agree that at the core of one’s view of hell is one’s view of God. Reflecting on Burk’s presentation, I think he presents a God in whom judgement triumphs over mercy against the enduring biblical theme that mercy triumphs over judgement. I, at this point, cannot just wish away the ECT DNA in me. I am willing to hold it loosely and tentatively. I think ECT needs a total overhaul in how it is biblically and theologically formulated and presented.

Squeamish About the Bible’s Blood Speak? (Jason Micheli)

Last updated on: March 15, 2016 at 7:36 am By Scot McKnight

Jason Micheli will be posting reflections on Fleming Rutledge’s new book, The Crucifixion: Understanding the Death of Jesus Christ, through Lent. Jason is a United Methodist pastor in DC who blogs at www.tamedcynic.org

A year and a half ago Hannah Graham, a UVA student from my parish, went missing near her campus. Weeks later her body was found. She’d been assaulted and brutally murdered.

Theologically, I’ve always been committed to the sheer nothingness of evil. Rather than a thing with any substance or subsistence of its own, the tradition holds that evil is absence. Maybe evil is the privation of the good, as Augustine thought it, but during the prayer service I led in the days when Hannah was still missing, when everyone hoped for the best but suspected the worst, the presence of sin and evil was felt palpably throughout the sanctuary. In the months since then the devastation and trauma felt from her murder have grown and festered. I’ve watched with sadness and something like righteous anger as many of Hannah’s friends in my congregation continue to struggle with depression, despair, and a loss of faith. Two weeks ago, when it was reported that Jesse Matthew, her accused murderer, had decided to plead guilty, I rejoiced confident that God rejoiced too now that Hannah would receive at least this measure of justice.

My takeaway from this experience:

A vital refrain of scripture gets obscured when we individualize and moralize sin.

Sin costs something.

Sin must be atoned for.

Yes, Jesus enjoins us to forgive as much as 70 x 7 times, but sin, like the sin done to Hannah and the entire community who loved her, requires justice too. As my mother used to tell me, ‘Saying sorry doesn’t cut it. You’ve got to repair the damage you’ve done.’ Even for my mom, repair required sacrifice.

It’s right, even holy, to rejoice that Jesse Matthew will pay for the damage he’s done.

Sin costs something. This is the convicting acknowledgment running through the rituals of sacrifice in the Book of Leviticus. Counter to the popular complaint about traditional atonement theories which asks, flippantly, ‘Why can’t God just forgive?’ the fundamental presupposition of Leviticus is that there must be atonement for sin. Put aside distracting conceits like God’s offended honor and simply focus on the concrete, real-world devastation wrought by sin.

As Fleming Rutledge argues in her book, The Crucifixion:

‘Sin can’t just be forgiven and then set aside as though nothing has happened. If someone commits a terrible wrong, Christians know that we are to forgive; but something in us nevertheless cries out for justice. The Old and New Testaments both speak profoundly to this problem. It is not enough to say, ‘Mistakes were made, or ‘I didn’t mean to’ ; the whole system in Leviticus is set up to prevent anyone from thinking that unwitting sin doesn’t count.’

In Part 2 of The Crucifixion, Fleming Rutledge examines at length the primary atonement motifs (her preferred term over atonement theories) in the biblical narrative. She gives considerable attention to the motif of blood sacrifice, seeing it not only as the foundational motif upon which many other atonement motifs depend but also because blood sacrifice, along with passover, is the primary lens through which the early Christians interpreted the death of Jesus. They did so, after all, because ‘their single source for discovering the meaning of the strange death of their Lord was the scriptures they had always known.’

They grappled with the meaning of Christ’s death in the terms available to them, in other words, and in their scriptures blood sacrifice was a recurring motif for understanding how sinful humanity is brought near to their God. In particular, the Book of Leviticus became fertile ground for interpreting the terrible mystery of the cross. As Rutledge imagines:

‘It must have been a very exciting process. Anyone reading Leviticus and thinking of Jesus at the same time could hardly fail to notice a phrase like ‘a male without blemish’ in the list of stipulations. This is the sort of detail that would would jump off the page of the Hebrew Scriptures in those first years after the resurrection.’

Mainline and progressive Christians frequently express disdain for the blood imagery of scripture. We judge it, snobbishly Rutledge thinks, to be primitive; meanwhile, we let our kids play Black Ops 3, we fill the theaters for American Sniper, and we refer to those innocents killed by our drones as ‘bugsplat.’ That is, if we care about the droned dead at all. We exult in gore and violence in our entertainments, but we feign that we’re too fastidious to exalt God by singing ‘There’s a Fountain Filled with Blood.’ Rare is the Christmas preacher bold enough take the Slaughter of the Innocents as his text while the Washington Post app on my iPhone makes it uncomfortably obvious that the slaughter of innocents goes on every day. Never mind that in its use of blood imagery, scripture remains reticent, refusing to dwell in gore by focusing instead on the effects of the sacrificed blood.

In our disinclination towards the language of blood and sacrifice, treating it as a detachable option in atonement theology, Christians today could not be more different from the writers of the Old Testament who held that humanity is distant from God in its sin and atonement is possible only by way of blood. Viewed from the perspective of the Hebrew Scriptures, we make the very error Anselm cautions against in Cur Deus Homo. We’ve not truly considered the weight of sin.

My friend, Tony Jones, recently featured a guest post on his blog from someone who advocated altering the traditional serving words for the eucharist (The body of Christ broken for you. The blood of Christ shed for you.) to ‘Christ is here, in your brokenness. Christ is here, bringing you to life.’ Or, ‘Christ broken, with us in our brokenness. Christ’s life, flowing through our lives.’ Such redactions just won’t do the heavy lifting if one is committed to taking seriously the language of scripture. While the traditional imagery of blood sacrifice may make some squeamish, Fleming Rutledge insists it is ‘central to the story of salvation through Jesus Christ, and without this theme the Christian proclamation loses much of its power, becoming both theologically and ethically undernourished.’

Editing out blood sacrifice commits the very act is intended to avoid, violence.

It commits violence agains the text of scripture by eviscerating the language of the bible.

Scripture speaks of the blood of Christ 3 times more often than it speaks of the death of Christ. Such a statistic alone reveals the extent to which blood sacrifice is a dominant theme in extrapolating the meaning of Christ’s death. Scripture gives the witness repeatedly: God comes under God’s judgement as a blood sacrifice for sin. Put in the logic of the Old Testament’s sacrificial system: something of precious value is relinquished in exchange for something of even greater gain. Blood for peace.

We might find such language repellent. Many do. Perhaps we should recoil at it considering how its an indictment upon our own sinfulness. We might wish to alter the words we say when handing the host to a communicant. What we cannot do is pretend this is not the way scripture itself speaks. Not only is blood sacrifice a dominant motif in scripture, Fleming Rutledge demonstrates how its a theme upon which many other atonement motifs rely, such as representation, substitution, propitiation, vicarious suffering, and exchange. Something as simple as switching from ‘The blood of Christ shed for you’ to ‘The cup of love’ effectively mutes the polyvalence of scripture’s voice.

And what does lie behind our resistance to blood sacrifice?

Reading The Crucifixion, I can’t help but wonder if the popular disdain for blood sacrifice owes less to our concern for the violence of the century past (and the ways our theological language underwrote it) and if it has more to do with the way that the worldview of blood sacrifice contradicts our contemporary gospel of inclusivity along with its charitable appraisal of human nature and its ever progressing evolution. The self-image we derive from American culture is that I’m okay and you’re okay. We translate grace according to culture so that Paul’s message of rectification becomes ‘accept that you are accepted.’ God loves you just as you are, we preach, Because of course, God loves us. How could a good God not love wonderful people like us? As Stanley Hauerwas jokes, we make the doctrine of the incarnation ‘God put on our humanity and declared ‘Isn’t this nice?!’

The governing assumption behind blood sacrifice could not be more divergent. ‘The basic presupposition here [in Leviticus],’ says Rutledge, ‘is that we aren’t acceptable before the Lord just the way we are. Something has to transpire before we are counted as acceptable…the gap between the holiness of God and the sinfulness of human beings is assumed to be so great that the sacrificial offering has to be made on a regular basis.’ The self-satisfied smile we see in Joel Osteen is a reflection of our own.

Our glib view of ourselves is such that we cannot imagine why God would not want to come near us.

Scripture’s sober view of us is that we cannot come near God, in our guilt, without God providing the means for us to live in God’s presence.

Another life in place of our own, a blameless and unblemished one.

Whatever our reason for spurning blood sacrifice, our disdain for it raises an even more pernicious problem, for, as Fleming Rutledge implies, if we refuse to interpret Christ’s death as a blood sacrifice, ruling such imagery as out of bounds, what connection remains between Jesus and Jesus’ own scriptures? To jettison blood sacrifice is to unmoor Jesus from the bible by which he would have understood his own deeds and death, making it unclear in what sense it makes any sense to say, as we must, that Jesus was and is a Jew.

Disdain for blood sacrifice becomes a kind of supersessionism.

Desiring to cleanse our view of God of any violence we unwittingly commit a far worse sort of (theological) violence: cleansing God of God’s People.

Which begs the question, my own not Fleming’s, if progressive Christians in America today are substantively different than the Christian European sophisticates of the late 19th century who viewed the ethnic, cultic faith of the Jews with similar disdain.

If we profess the conviction that a crucified Jewish Messiah is Lord, then we must submit to understanding him according to the terms by which he would’ve understood himself.

And not only Jesus- the entire Book of Hebrews, which the Church Fathers understood as an extended sermon on Leviticus, is the longest sustained argument in scripture and the argument at hand is the preacher’s assertion that Christ’s death was a blood sacrifice offered for sin wherein priest and victim become one. At some point, no matter how squeamish the imagery might make the uninitiated, we must conclude that to do away with blood sacrifice requires us to do away with far too many of our sacred texts. Even Paul, as Rutledge unpacks, interpreted Jesus’ death as a sacrifice, doing so not in the cultic terms of the Book of Hebrews but in apocalyptic terms, as:

‘the definitive apocalyptic engagement with the forces of the enemy, at the frontier of the ages where Jesus’ self-abandonment was the ultimate weapon…the ultimate form of ‘passive resistance’ that overwhelms and routs the enemy.’

In addition to maintaining continuity between the testaments, the blood sacrifice motif also helps Christians avoid the common error of seeing Christ’s death as an occasion of God reacting to human sin and of God changing God’s mind about humanity as a consequence of Christ’s death. Instead, as Rutledge argues, the sacrifices of the Old Testament prepared the people for the perfect, once for all, sacrifice offered by Christ thus the cross is ‘an inherent, original movement within God’s very being. It is in the very being of God to offer God’s self sacrificially.’

Given her extended attention to blood sacrifice and to the scapegoat of the Levitical sacrifices, it surprised me that Rutledge largely confines the work of Rene Girard, whose scapegoat theory of the atonement is ascendant among progressives, to her footnotes. While she affirms Girard’s wisdom in identifying Christ’s death with the victimization of the lowly and oppressed, she wisely challenges how Girard’s emphasis on understanding Christ’s death purely in scapegoat terms has much to say to victims of oppression but has nothing to say for or about the oppressed’s victimizers.

Girard’s esteemed scapegoat theory is unable, Rutledge argues, to ‘envision the rectification of the [scapegoating’s] perpetrators.’

This little line buried in the footnotes made me long for an extended treatment of Girard, for her offhand critique hints at the way the blood sacrifice motif is inextricably linked to the offense of the Gospel:

‘For Christ also died for sins once for all, the righteous for the unrighteous.’

– 1 Peter 3.18

To unload the peculiar blood imagery of scripture, then, is to take on the prejudices of American culture, losing our particular, deeply offensive confession that God sacrificed God’s self not for the good and the godly, not for the righteous and the religious, but for the ungodly.

Sin does cost something.

It is right and good, I believe, to rejoice knowing Jesse Matthew will spend his life behind bars.

Nonetheless, the Gospel is that Christ died not just me or you or Pope Francis but for, serial killer and rapist, Jesse Matthew.

Trust me, I’ve seen the damage done by Jesse Matthew first hand.

I could so easily forget that Christ died for him too if, in my church, we didn’t weekly break bread and say ‘The blood of Christ poured out for you.’

For even him.

The End of the Dance?

Last updated on: March 11, 2016 at 2:39 pm By Scot McKnight

Carl Trueman:

I’m thinking @fitchest will like this one.

Reading Janik and Toulmin’s Wittgenstein’s Vienna a few years ago, I was struck at how oblivious the last generation of the Austro-Hungarian empire were to the imminent collapse of their world. One might say they kept waltzing up to the very moment that they suddenly found they could waltz no more. Yet all around them their world was slowly but surely coming to an end. From the surrounding European politics to the nihilism of the satirist, Karl Kraus and the early philosophical stirrings of the great Wittgenstein, the signs of the end of the age were all around.

American conservative evangelicalism, like Vienna in 1914, seems to its leadership relatively healthy but it is quite possibly enjoying the last waltz as forces round about conspire to undo it. Last week, three very different events reminded me of the problems. A recently disgraced former ministerreappeared, ready for the conference circuit. An influential ministry brand published a new creed, seeing the liturgy of the church as a yet untapped area for product placement. And remember when I averred that parts of Protestant evangelicalism seemed to be run by the Mob? Well, soon it could be official as Mark Driscoll, fallen megachurch pastor, found himself the subject of a RICO indictment….

Brands have a place—but not at the center of the Christian life. If conservative evangelicalism cannot wean itself off using brands as a primary focus of identity—brands that are tied to particular personalities, that cost a lot of money to maintain, and which often exude a breathtaking sense of importance (all for the sake of Jesus, of course) then the kind of corruption noted above will continue. Moreover, the future is simply unsustainable in anything like its present form. Economically, patterns of parachurch funding are set to change dramatically in the next ten years, even without any change in tax exempt status rules. The future may be hard to predict with precision but it will be different. And now is the time to prepare for that.

Five Corrections about Election

Last updated on: March 15, 2016 at 7:10 am By Scot McKnight

By Chad Thornhill, author of The Chosen People: Election, Paul and Second Temple Judaism.

Election is an idea and a doctrine that confuses many, delights others, and divides the church. For some it is the ultimate expression of God’s sovereignty while for others it is the ultimate expression of divine arbitrariness and injustice. The issue for us in this series by an expert on election is What does the Bible actually say? This second post by Chad offers five corrections about election.

Five Corrections about Election

Paul’s Election Discussions are about Jews and Gentiles

One of the major observations which influenced my approach in The Chosen People (IVP, 2015) was recognizing that Paul’s most dense discussion of “election” in Romans 9-11 and Ephesians 1-2 occur in the context of discussing how Jews and Gentiles fit together in the people of God. If God’s covenant with Abraham, as the father of the Jewish people, and Israel via Moses, established the nation as his chosen people, it’s no wonder Paul felt the need to discussion this in light of both the Christ event and the large-scale inclusion of Gentiles in God’s people. Indeed, what Paul seems to be doing in Romans 9-11 is arguing for the validity of Gentile inclusion along with the necessity of Gentiles to recognize the historical primacy of Israel in God’s plan. In Ephesians 1-2, the issue seems to be Gentiles ignoring or forgetting this historical primacy of Israel, and so Paul feels the need both to affirm the unity of God’s people (Jews and Gentiles on equal footing with no second-class citizens) and the dependence of the Gentiles on Israel as the people through whom the divine plan worked. Yet for Paul, the fact that Abraham was chosen to bless the nations and that the nation of Israel was to be a kingdom of priests, seems to indicate that he viewed these divine intentions as finally coming to fruition, even if still in an inaugurated, not fully consummated, form.

Election has a Salvation-Historical Context

What the New Testament authors, Paul included, are doing with their theology of election is best viewed in a salvation-historical context. There is a story to election which was begun in Genesis, took various twists and turns in the historical books and the prophets, and has taken another dramatic shift in light of Jesus. To neglect this dimension of election theology in the New Testament is to, I think, miss the major thrust of what these authors are doing. It is not simply that God chose a nation in the OT but now we know that he really chooses individuals. Rather, it is that God chose a nation, a nation which largely (though not completely) derailed their mission through syncretistic practices, were exiled, and were awaiting restoration, a theme which clearly runs throughout the Gospels. A restoration has begun in the work of Jesus and his bringing of the kingdom, but not as was expected. Certainly God’s chosen agent was not expected to die and be resurrected. But also the Gentiles were not expected to be included in God’s people now and without submitting to the various commands in the Law which defined Israel as a people. When we recognize the overarching story which frames what the New Testament authors say, our theologizing about election takes some decidedly different turns.

Election Defines the “Who” of God’s People

Less we think that all Second Temple Jews (at least as evidenced in the extant literature) agreed precisely in their election theologies, we should recognize that a debate about election was indeed occurring. The literature of the period shows us, however, that this debate was not about “how” people become a part of God’s people (i.e., God chooses certain people to save and others to condemn), but rather the “who” of God’s people. The debate was about what marked the boundaries of the people of God. For the author of 1 Maccabees, it was adherence to the Law and support of the Hasmoneans. For the author of 1 Enoch, it was calendrical adherence (among other things). For the author of Jubilees, it was circumcision, sexual purity, Sabbath observance, and avoidance of Gentiles. For the author of the Psalms of Solomon, pious observance of the Law and separation from the corruption of Jerusalem were required. The Qumran community and the Pharisees and Sadducees were clearly at odds with one another over this very issue as well. We could go on, but this illustrates briefly that different Jewish groups held different beliefs about who God’s people actually were, or what markers defined their boundaries. The New Testament authors do not ignore from this conversation, but rather contribute to it. For the NT authors, however, it is not a matter of which interpretation of the Law marks the boundaries of God’s people, but rather Jesus the Messiah. Those who are “in him,” who follow him and obey his teachings, constitute the people of God, made up of Jews and Gentiles alike.

Election is Fundamentally Counter-Intuitive

A thread that runs throughout the story (or perhaps stories) of election in the canon is that God’s choices are fundamentally counter-intuitive. Nothing about Abraham in the narrative indicates that he made a fitting choice. Deuteronomy 7:7 informs us that God did not choose Israel because of its significance, rather it was quite insignificant. God chooses Moses, “slow of speech and tongue,” to be his spokesperson (Exod 4:10). Jacob becomes the heir to the blessing even though he is not the firstborn. David is the least of all his brothers, but yet is made king, where Saul, the perfect candidate, fails. And most striking, the son of a carpenter, under educated, is God’s Messiah, a Messiah who bids his followers to come and die is himself is crucified. Over and over in the biblical story we see that God’s plan contradicts human intuitions. This, I think, is largely part of Paul’s point in Romans 9. If God chose Abraham, and Jacob, and Moses, why should we dispute his inclusion of Gentiles as Gentiles in his people, a people who are defined by a crucified Messiah. It’s no wonder Paul writes that God chooses the foolish things of the world to shame the wise (1 Cor 1:27).

Election Relates to Mission and Formation

Finally, election in the biblical story is predominantly not about salvation (though God’s people will be “saved”). Rather, election in the biblical story, as seen in God’s choice of Israel and his defining of his people around Jesus. Israel is chosen to be a holy people and a nation of priests. In other words the kind of people they are, and what they do, is central to what it means for them to be chosen. As a nation of priests, they are clearly intended to minister to the nations. For Isaiah, this means they are to be a light to the Gentiles. Jesus brings the kingdom and sends his followers out on a mission, to be a community of love which in word and deed proclaims the message of the kingdom and the king to the world. The ethical and missional impulses of election are at the center of the biblical story of the elect, and thus must be at the center of our understanding at what a biblical theology of election entails.

What other corrections about how election is commonly framed are needed?

What does the counter-intuitive nature of election teach us about how God works in his world and among his people?

How do we work out the ethical and missional impulses of election in our churches today?

Roger Olson on John Piper’s View of Arminianism

Last updated on: March 12, 2016 at 4:38 pm By Scot McKnight

Roger Olson:

However, while I think there is some truth in that regarding some Reformed theologians (clearly in the case of Zwingli, for example), I will not use that argument here. Here is what I will say—much to the chagrin of many Calvinists and Arminians alike: The Bible can be interpreted either way, both ways. I do not accuse Calvinists of “dishonoring the Bible” as I have heard many Calvinists say about Arminians. I can see how Calvinism (except “limited atonement”) can be derived from Scripture. I think it’s a mistaken interpretation; I think sound exegesis is on the Arminian side, but I do not say Calvinists place philosophy over the Bible or cannot be good exegetes. What I say is that if you are going to interpret the Bible that way—viz., as teaching double predestination, God as designing, ordaining and governing (rendering certain) all that happens including the fall and the Holocaust and hell itself including who will be there selected individually without free will “in the picture,”—you must swallow the “picture” of a monstrous God who gets glory out of the torturing of children and the eternal torment of people created in his own image and likeness predestined to that eternal torture without their free will decisions or choices.

I tell my students that when the Bible is not as clear as we wish it were, which is often the case (I’m not a fundamentalist), the way “forward” when you must move toward a doctrine about which the Bible is not perfectly clear you must look at all the options rooted in Scripture, good biblical exegesis, and choose the one that has the consequences you can live with. Then I tell them that there is nothing in the universe more important than that God is good in some meaningful way and not a moral monster completely unlike Jesus who wept over Jerusalem because he wanted them to embrace him but they would not.

I have heard all the objections to this approach, but they all come from a fundamentalist approach to the Bible deeply colored by a systematic theology launched first by Augustine, then promoted by the magisterial Reformers, then taught by Jonathan Edwards and Charles Hodge. No Christian before Augustine believed in unconditional individual election to hell or irresistible grace.

These Calvinist attacks on Arminianism are shameless and unworthy of Christian gentlemen and scholars. So much has been published in recent years about true Arminianism that anyone who continues to misrepresent it as Pelagian or semi-Pelagian or even “humanistic” or “man-centered” or “self-centered” or preferring philosophy to the Bible—is simply bearing false witness against his or her brothers and sisters in Christ. Or else he or she is ignorant. I don’t want to believe either about John Piper; I want to give him the benefit of the doubt. But on what would that be based? He’s a scholar; he reads biblical and theological literature voraciously. He’s brilliant and articulate. I personally explained true Arminianism to him face-to-face. I sent him a copy of my book. So I do not believe he is ignorant. What’s left to think?

In the Parable of the Talents, what did the faithful servants receive?