Features of an Evangelical Theological Method - review of To Know and Love God by David Clark

What does an evangelical theological method look like? One that is contextually aware and well-suited for the times we are in, as we sail our way through the waters of modernism into postmodernism? One that retains the best insights of theological methods influenced by modernism and yet incorporates the new insights brought about by postmodernism? This is the question that David Clark seeks to answer in his To Know And Love God: Method for Theology (Wheaton: Crossway, 2003). Clark works his way through different features or aspects of an evangelical theological method, and arrives at the following picture –

An Evangelical Theological Method should

1) Take into account what Clark calls the ‘Contextual Pole’ (the emphasis for theology to be connected to the cultural situation or other forms of human thought e.g. philosophy and reason) and the ‘Kerygmatic Pole’ (the emphasis of theology to be objectively grounded in faith and Scripture and ‘systems’). An evangelical Theological Method should hold onto both poles and work within the extremes of these two poles. The evangelical theologian should not be a ‘transformer’ – one who so emphasises the Contextual Pole that the truths of the gospel are compromised for the sake of cultural connection, nor a ‘transporter’ – one who simply transports theology straight from the bible without any regard or awareness of culture or influences from other forms of human thought. Rather, the evangelical theologian should seek to ensure that his theology is ‘contextually relevant in every mode of expression, yet shaped very fundamentally through essential connection with biblical revelation’ (p.57).

2) Recognise the Scriptures as uniquely authoritative in authorising both theological statements and moral commands. More than that, the authority of Scripture is first and foremost grounded in the ontological truth of God and his act of speaking, rather than in the church or the community’s reception of that Word. In technical language, the ‘ontological ground of the text’s authority is not the same as the epistemic acceptance of the text’s authority’ (p.65). In authorising the theological statements and moral commands (or in moving from Scripture to Theology), Clark also denounces principlizing – where Scripture is seen to be filled with universal timeless principles which lie beneath the narrative, cultural husks the words of Scripture find themselves in, and theology is all about extracting these principles and applying them to our new context. Instead, Clark calls for a nuanced version of narrative theology, where the whole Bible itself (with its different genres and narrative account), rather than just the principles, is seen to be the thing that authorises theology for living (p.96-97)

3) Be Contextually Relevant. In this regard, Clark discourages a decode/encode way of contextualisation which he deems in essence as a form of principlizing (p.112-13) and instead encourages a dialogical model for evangelical contextualisation, where from one’s culture with its own values, beliefs, practices and dilemmas, Christians raise questions and issues; they then take these initial questions to Scripture and allow a culturally relevant theology to emerge – at all times doing this with great humility and a keen eagerness to apply their discoveries to life while recognising the supreme authority of the Word of God to question and challenge their cultural viewpoints. This dialogical process is further extended to involve the “other culture” whether it may be a culture in a distant era of time or a far off place. The whole dialogical process continues and at all times, understanding of Scripture is deepened (p.114 and 120-21).

4) Have a foundation on which evangelical theology is built. In terms of this foundation, Clark rejects ‘strong’ foundationalism (or classical foundationalism which asserts something like ‘basic beliefs must either be self-evident, incorrigible, or evident to the senses’) (p.155-56); coherentism (where a system of beliefs is valid as long as the individual beliefs are coherent when they come together) (p.156-58), or pragmatism (where a system of beliefs is valid as long as it works!) (p.159-161). Instead, Clark espouses soft foundationalism, consisting of the following tenets (p.161-62):
• A kind of belief-foundationalism, which distinguishes between basic beliefs and non-basic beliefs. Basic beliefs are warranted directly in a variety of ways, while non-basic beliefs build on basic beliefs.
• Coherence is relevant to the warranting of beliefs, but is never sufficient to ground an entire web of belief.
• Unlike classical foundationalism, basic beliefs can be warranted despite they not achieving the same standards of self-evidence or incorrigibility as demanded by classical foundationalism. This means a person is justified prima facie in accepting many ideas when the justification is less than absolutely certain. Soft foundationalism also allows for its basic beliefs to be defeated if it turns out to be so upon further inspection.

5) Recognise because there is a larger unified narrative behind the various disciplines (Biblical Theology, Systematic Theology, Historical Theology, Philosophical Theology and Practical Theology) – that of God’s self-revelation in the totality of history – a unity of the theological disciplines is achievable (p.192). A good evangelical theological method recognises the uniqueness and diversity of disciplines; understands its own discipline’s horizon, and fuses that horizon with that of the other disciplines.

6) At its best be scientia that serves sapientia. Scientia refers to knowledge that is derived from a scientific way of exploring and discovering, while sapientia is godly wisdom directed to salvation and Christian living. A good theological method recognises both and does not see the two as contradictory but rather complementary – seeing theology as a means to the end of loving God is perfectly consistent with a robust interest in objectively correct (albeit an imperfect and incomplete) biblical descriptions of the object of our love (p.217). In another words, ‘theology is a science of God that enables faithful Christian followers to know God and to find spiritual wisdom’ (p.219). To this end, Clark espouses a five step method involving both scientia and sapientia – Engagement, Discovery and Testing, Integration, and Communication (p.232-44). Clark’s summary of the process is helpful:

Theology, then, includes both truth-discerning and truth-applying functions. Theology as scientia is concerned to tease out the best possible understandings of God, his will, and his ways. This happens as theologians appropriately pursue the discovery and testing phases in order to explore successively more adequate theological ideas, models, theories, and research programmes. This requires objectivity and critical testing. [...] Theology as sapientia functions to transform believers’ lives through integration, and Christians in turn influence people and communities through communication. [...] The second and third moments in theology yield understandings that genuinely reflect the Word and the world; the fourth and fifth moments use theological truth to influence affections, decisions and characters (p.244).

7) Be open to philosophical methods of analysis involving strategies for clarifying concepts, criticising assumptions, evaluating arguments, and constructing positive viewpoints. These analytic skills are helpful, though not sufficient for good evangelical theologizing.

8) Acknowledge that some genuine knowledge of an objectively existing spiritual Reality (in this case God!) is essential to evangelical theology, and that language while not capturing that reality fully, does connect to that objective reality. Clark espouses a minimalist account of correspondence, where language does refer to mind-independent state of affairs. It is a view which Clark admits is more of ‘an affirmation of an intuition than it is the development of a theory’ (p.381), for trying to prove truth beyond the category of intuition to more basic or fundamental terms will only result into hopeless circularity. Applying this concept to religious or theological language, Clark espouses a ‘carefully crafted commitment to univocity’ (p.393), where religious language speaks univocally (a word has exactly the same meaning in two different contexts) as opposed to speaking equivocally (the way a word is used in one context is entirely different from the way it is used in another) or by analogy (where a word or term as used in two different contexts communicate different senses, but yet the different senses are somewhat meaningfully related to each other). A commitment to univocity means that when a term is used to predicate of God the way it is used of man, e.g. ‘God is loving’, the meaning of the term as applied to God and the meaning of the term as applied to man are identical, though the mode or manner of expression of the two predications of a univocal term may different completely. But in the case of analogy, the meaning of the term as applied to God and the meaning of the term as applied to man are not identical, though they are similar. Finally, Clark also encourages us to see religious language as not only having its function in referring or describing, but through Speech-Acts theory, to see that it also has other functions and does other things. Saying things about the world is one thing language does, but not the only thing it does – or even the most important thing it does. Speech-acts also forms a link between theology or theological language as scientia and sapientia. Speech-acts as a way of understanding religious language

[...] shows how the language of Scripture, worship, preaching, spiritual formation, and moral instruction is sapiential. This language is intended to do something. As such, religious utterances of this sort do something other than informing listeners about reality. But they do relate to theology as scientia. Scientia is the language intended to describe spiritual realities truly. The purposes of sapientia – worshipping the triune God, transforming Christian character, building the spiritual community called the church, and fulfilling God’s call to evangelistic and social mission – these all involve the use of linguistic utterances of various sorts. But they require the background truth of theology as scientia (p.416-17).

Overall, the biggest contribution of To Know and Love God is to provide a realistic philosophical underpinning to evangelical theological method – one that draws the best insights of both modernism and postmodernism, yet without succumbing to the blind spots and weaknesses of either. It affirms critical realism (that there is a mind-independent objective reality); a minimal account of correspondence to religious language (that language is able to refer and describe this reality); epistemic humility (we can know truly though not exhaustively or fully), and theology that is rooted in scientia for the purposes of sapientia – that we may be truly wise, having ‘passionate love for God, genuine worship of the Trinity, true community with fellow Christians, and loving service in personal evangelism and social compassion – all to the glory of God’ (p.424).

Moving Beyond the Bible to Theology

I know the very title of this post might discomfort some: “What do you mean by ‘moving beyond’ the Bible? Are we supposed to ever move beyond the Bible?” But this is really the title of a book I’ve just finished reading – Four Views on Moving Beyond the Bible to Theology (ed. Gary Meadors; Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2009). In this book, a power packed cast of writers provide their different understandings of how they move from the Bible to theology or how they take the words or message of the Bible and apply it to modern day contexts and situations which the writers of Scripture never had to contend with - the most popular situations as presented in the book being the issue of abolition of slaves, women teaching, and (as presented by one contributor) transsexuality.


The first contributor is Walter Kaiser with the Principalising model, where Kasier states that we in fact don’t have to move beyond Scripture in the sense of taking the words of Scripture off on some trajectory to enable it to meet our present day contexts and situations. Rather, Scripture itself already has to full capacity to address these issues. What is needed, rather is to move through what he calls the ‘Ladder of Abstraction’ to sieve out and state ‘the general principle that embodies what is seen in the specificity, culture, and times of the text’ and then to ‘apply (that principle) to our day in corresponding specifics that elaborate on the same general principle’ (p.50). In a somewhat convoluted essay, the second contributor Daniel M. Doriani presents his Redemptive-Historical model, which seems like the standard grammatical-historical method, except that a much greater weight and attention is given to the location of the passage within salvation history. In another words, it is biblical theology resulting in a stronger Christocentric focus. So far so good, except that at this point Doriani introduces other factors such as allowing narrative to have its say in directing us in theology and ethics (p.87); casuistry (p.100), and asking ‘questions the Bible endorses’ (p.102), which really serve to confuse rather than illuminate his presentation. Third up is Kevin Vanhoozer, who presents his (curtains up and to no surprise) Drama of Redemption model. In this model, Christian living is seen as a fitting participation in God’s Theodrama, which He has graciously invited us to be part of. The Bible, in this case, serves as the script for a fitting participation, but yet a fitting participation is not just merely performing out the Script as it is, but rather it requires improvisation – which involves knowing how a portion of the Script fits in with the wider whole (what Vanhoozer calls ‘canon sense’: “To read with canon sense [...] is to read figurally or typologically, which is to say with the conviction that there is an underlying theodramatic consistency and coherence that underlies and unifies the whole.” (p.180)); and to see and learn from the previous performances of other saints and to understand the context ones is in (what Vanhoozer calls ‘catholic sensibility’ p.181). In another words, a faithful performance is when one performs or inhabits not so much the ‘world behind the text’ or even ‘the world of the text’, but rather ‘the world in front of the text’ or ‘the world implied by the text’. In another words, a fitting performance is when one cultivates theodramatic vision – when we ‘move beyond the script and become faithful performances of the world it implies by cultivating minds nurtured on the canon’, when our minds, hearts and imagination are trained and disciplined to think, desire, see – and then do – reality as it is in Jesus Christ’ (p.170). It is hence not surprising that doctrine, for Vanhoozer is largely formative – to so shape our thinking and imagination that we become people who habitually make good theodramtic judgements as to who God is, what He is doing, and hence what we must do in response (p.178). The final contributor is William Webb, who presents his Redemptive-Movement model, which is mainly concerned to find the ‘trajectory or logical extension of the Bible’s (or passage’s) redemptive spirit that carries Christians to an ultimate ethic’ (p.217). Due to this model’s frequent association with other more ‘out there’ hermeneutical theories which involve launching the meaning of the passage off on a trajectory which often ends up where the reader’s whims and fancies lead them to, Webb has to spend a proportionate time responding to the misconceptions and defending his model. Webb does not deny the NT as final and definitive revelation, but ‘understanding the NT as final and definitive revelation does not automatically mean that the NT contains the final realisation of social ethics in all of its concrete particulars’ (p.246). In another words, I think it is the ethical application of the passage that Webb allows for a trajectory to an ‘ultimate ethic’, one which may or may not be seen within the pages of the Bible itself. What makes this book worth it’s price is an additional three reflections from Mark Strauss, Al Wolters (who provides an interesting argument for general revelation which together with special revelation helps us to move ‘beyond the bible’ in these contentious issues p.317-19), and Chris Wright (who suggests that a further perspective that needs to be taken into account is that of a missional hermeneutics – since Scripture is about mission or since Scripture is to be read with a missional hermeneutic, then the direction and paradigm in which we go beyond Scripture in thinking through issues must also have a missional direction).

I conclude with three comments. Firstly, it is comforting and encouraging to know that all four writers are thoroughly convinced of the nature and authority of Scripture. While they may be convicted to varying degrees over the sufficiency and perspicuity of Scripture , all four writers recognise the need to submit oneself to the Word of God. Perhaps the deeper question discussed here is not Is Scripture authoritative but rather How is Scripture authoritative? Secondly, the answer to the How question varies, but each polarity is not without its own difficulties. For example, Kaiser’s principlising model states that there is no need to move beyond Scripture – Scripture contains (timeless?) principles that are more than sufficient to answer any situation in any context (he shows this by considering women leadership, euthanasia, abortion, stem cell research, slave abolition etc.), but the deeper question that remains (as pointed out by the other contributors) is whose principles? i.e. what is there to guide me to ensure that I draw out the right principle, or what is there to prevent two people from drawing out contrary principles? Kaiser would answer, “Solid exegesis!”, but the exegesis of certain passages can be tricky at times and not as simplistic as Kaiser makes it out to be (for e.g. his exegesis of 1 Tim 2:12 to justify his egalitarian position). As David Clark (To know and love God) puts it, “principlizing obscures the fact that any articulation of the allegedly transcultural principles still reflects the culture of the translators.” There is no such thing as propositions free from cultural bias or worldview (p.276). On the other polarity, someone like Webb faces the same criticism. How do we determine the ‘ultimate ethic’ of the text? Webb would answer, “By the redemptive spirit of the text!”, but whose spirit? Isn’t it of the reader at the end of the day? Or the Holy Spirit? Either way, Webb (as Strauss points out) runs the risk of being unable to provide a definite answer by labelling “meaning” as ‘something not part of the human author’s communicative intent as expressed through speech-acts (p.290). Even Vanhoozer cannot escape this difficulty. What is the measure by which we use to define faithful performance? What is the measure of faithful improvisation? (Questions asked by Wolters p.316) Though I think Vanhoozer provides us a hint of his answer in his essay - It is the rule of love, the way of wisdom. A faithful performance, a fitting improvisation is one which corresponds to the dramatis personae himself – God as revealed in Jesus – full of love, full of wisdom. As Vanhoozer himself states, “The way forward is the way of wisdom – to walk in such a manner that one corresponds in one’s whole being-in-act to God’s prior-in-act. The wise disciple is the one who discerns, deliberates, and does the truth, goodness, and beauty that is the love of God in Jesus Christ.” (p.186). My third and final comment is this book is really a mistitle. I was expecting to learn how one can move beyond the Bible to Theology, thinking doctrine and systematic theology. But that does not seem to be the main emphasis here. Instead, a more accurate title should be ‘Moving Beyond the Bible to Ethics’.

Review of Death by Love: Letters From the Cross

What does the theology of the atonement have to do with someone tormented by demons and spirits? Someone struggling with lust? Someone struggling to forgive and seek reconciliation? Someone wanting blood and revenge for a justified cause? Someone crumbling under the filth and stain from acts of sin done to them in their lives? Someone seeking to justify himself from a horrendous crime previously committed? Someone unaware of his own problem of self-righteousness? Someone struggling with sickness and staring at potential death in the face? Someone aware of the debt we owe God but trying to pay it off through his own efforts? Someone struggling to know God? And hear this - a young child born in a loving Christian family and environment? What does what happened on the cross have to do with all these situations?


That’s the big question that pastor Mark Driscoll (together with theologian Gerry Breshears) addresses in one of his more recent books Death By Love: Letters From the Cross (Wheaton: Crossway, 2008). After an introductory chapter discussing the substitutionary death of Jesus, Driscoll and Breshears go on to present the multi-faceted jewel of the cross. What is unique about their presentation, however, is the way the theology is presented. The rich theological truths of Christus Victor; Jesus as our redemption; our New Covenant sacrifice; our righteousness; our justification; our propitiation; our expiation; our examplar; our ransom; our reconciliation; our revelation, and even the doctrine of the scope of the atonement are presented not in an abstract way, but embedded within a certain life situation or context. Each chapter begins with Driscoll introducing someone he had worked with in a pastoral context. This is then followed by a personal letter written to that person where one facet of the golden jewel of the cross is presented so that ‘the person and work of Jesus are made intensely practical for that person’s life’ (p.13). Driscoll and Breshears are clear in their overall aim – ‘to show that there is no such thing as Christian community or Christian ministry apart from a rigorous theology of the cross that is practically applied to the lives of real people’ (p.13).

Overall, I think Driscoll and Breshears have succeeded to a large extent. Here is theology that bites; theology that is not presented in a high-brow academic ivory-tower fashion but instead shown clearly for what theology should be – theology that speaks to real people in real circumstances of real life. Here is theology meets pastoral counselling meets evangelism meets edification – as Driscoll shows how he wisely counsels people, confronting them and challenging them where necessary, but at all times grounded in the rich truths of Scripture. Here is dramatic theology – where theological truths not just inform us, but they actually shape our posture and direct us towards a fitting participation in God’s great drama of his revelation, which by his gracious Word and Spirit he has invited us to be a part of.

I have just three points to make which I believe would contribute further to the book. Firstly, the cosmic renewal aspect of the cross (and resurrection) was not highlighted. Instead, the application of what the cross achieved seemed largely to be individualistic. While that is true, the cross and resurrection of Christ does also have a cosmic effect. It is because of the cross and resurrection that we can have assurance of the new creation. In a passing world tainted and burdened with sin, decay, environmental degradation, and pain, the new creation and the new hope made possible and promised through the cross and resurrection is surely a welcome to all. Secondly, there needs to be a stronger emphasis of the atonement as a Trinitarian work. Certain portions of the book might run the risk of almost sounding like the cross was solely the work of the Son. While Driscoll and Breshears do make mention of God Himself as the second person of the Trinity stepping up to take the penalty in our place (p.115), a stronger emphasis of this theme would have been better. And lastly, it would have been ideal if Driscoll and Breshears had concluded the book by perhaps showing how the different facets and aspects of the cross ‘hang together’ – is there a central key idea which holds the different aspects together? Driscoll and Breshears would answer an affirmative ‘yes’ - it is penal substitution (an answer I would agree with). But they seem to assume and state this truth rather than show us how it is so, and doing more of the latter would add further to the academic standing of the book.

Overall, even after consideration of the three points above, this is still an excellent book and one which I think all pastors and ministry leaders should get their hands on. Read these letters from the cross and be warmed, be encouraged in heart, and with our lips and our lives, may we break forth in praise declaring ‘O the Wondrous Cross’!

Penal Substitution in postmodernity - Thinking Deeper on PSA 5

This will be the last post for the recent series on Thinking Deeper on Penal Substitutionary Atonement, and it will summarise and review Kevin Vanhoozer’s essay ‘The Atonement in Postmodernity: Guilt, Goats and Gifts’ found in The Glory of the Atonement.

Vanhoozer begins by stating that PSA is viewed as scandalous by many postmoderns. And the scandal is often viewed as coming from three separate problems with PSA. Firstly, the methodological or “formal” problem – proponents of PSA have the tendency to reduce the many NT metaphors of speaking about the cross to one: penalty. The move is from many metaphors to one, and from the one metaphor to a single concept. Secondly, the soteriological or “material” problem – PSA seems to presuppose and operate from a divine “economy” where God distributes a particular response (in this case forgiveness) only after the appropriate payment (in this case Jesus’ death). Such an economy leads towards the direction of legitimising retaliation and retribution. In another words, the question here is – “Does God need to be placated before he can love and forgive? Is God party to an economy of retaliatory exchange?” (p.372). Thirdly, the pastoral or “political” problem – how can we preach and practice the atonement? Does PSA lead to practices that perpetuate suffering and abuse?

Drawing on key postmodern philosophers and theologians, Vanhoozer proceeds to show how postmodernity both challenges and contributes to PSA. The main thing he advocates for is that PSA in postmodernity must be seen to operate from what he calls an economy of excess rather than from the traditional view of an economy of exchange. He explores this concept under the following 3 aspects of PSA:
Guilt: justice as satisfaction or payment of debt (traditional) vs. Justice as what is in excess of the law (postmodern)
Goat: averting violence by sacrificial killing (traditional) vs. Denouncing violence by exposing the violence inherent in sacrifice (postmodern)
Gift: giving to get something back (traditional) vs. Giving without hope of return (postmodern)

Drawing on Ricoeur, Derrida, and Milbank, Vanhoozer both questions and affirms (in fact he ‘over-affirms’ by going beyond a sole or exclusive affirmation) the concept of justice as requiring some form of payment or satisfaction. Vanhoozer then turns mainly to Rene Girard’s ‘scapegoat’ mechanism to show how postmoderns see Jesus’ death not so much as a scapegoat to avert violence, but as the scapegoat that exposes the ‘scapegoat mechanism’ present in human cultures and societies – the ‘dark secret of civilisation that society and religion alike are founded on collective violence’ (p.384). However, Vanhoozer also offers some criticisms of Girard’s proposal. Lastly, Vanhoozer draws on the work of Jean-Luc Marion and Ricoeur to suggest a new viewpoint of gifts – not within the economy of exchange, but within the ‘hyper-economy of grace’ (p.396). He concludes this section with the following:
“The operative concept in postmodern theological understandings of the atonement is excess, not exchange. The death of Jesus exceeds our attempts to explain it. Postmodern treatments of the cross are thus “hyper economic.” They seek to articulate the saving significance of Jesus’ death in a way that goes beyond explanatory economies and propositional truths.” (p.396-97) (his emphasis)

Vanhoozer then proceeds in the final section of his essay to offer a constructive proposal of the atonement – God’s gift of Jesus’ Death for us. Vanhoozer suggest that the key NT word used to express the significance of Jesus’ death is the Greek word hyper, or simply “for”. He begins with Jesus’ Word at the last supper – “This is my body given for (hyper) you”, and states there are three key concepts within this statement that should not be missed – the covenant, the temple, and the Exodus. The first two, taken together, deal with the negative – Jesus’ earlier reference to his body as a temple (John 2:19-22) means that Jesus saw himself as the fulfilment of everything that Israel’s temple was and meant to be. And by saying his body is broken, Jesus is saying that he is the place where sin is dealt with, making life possible in the presence of God. As Vanhoozer himself emphasises, “The shed blood is a sign that God has proved this covenantal faithfulness precisely by undergoing the sanctions, legal and relational, for covenantal disobedience.” (p.398, his emphasis). The concept of covenantal disobedience is an important one for Vanhoozer in understanding how he sees the definition and demands of ‘justice’. Earlier in the essay he states that what we need is ‘some such phrase as “making right covenantal relationship” to catch both the objective and the subjective outcomes of Christ’s atoning work. The atonement makes things ‘right’ to be sure, but this righteousness is legal and interpersonal, objective and subjective’ (p.381, his emphasis). If the first two concepts of covenant and temple deal with the negative, then the third concept of Exodus deals with the positive. Vanhoozer suggests that Jesus’ describing of his death as ‘exodus’ (Luke 9:31) is Jesus’ way of stating the new promised land he is taking us to – the Kingdom of God which is the reign of God in our human hearts. Christ’s death makes possible God’s gift of the Holy Spirit – ‘Jesus gives his body and blood for us, and in return we receive his Spirit, the operative principle of the new covenant and of the new age’ (p.399, his emphasis). Perhaps there is no better way of summarising what is at the heart of Vanhoozer’s proposal than to quote from the man himself:
“Jesus’ death is ultimately the result of a divinely initiated reconciling act that deals with sin by forgiving it […] and by establishing a new hyper-economy of covenantal love. In this triune economy, Father, Son and Spirit give without reserve out of the abundance of their Trinitarian life and love. Perhaps this is the lesson of the atonement in postmodernity: that the triune God is excessive, so much so that God shares his overflowing love with creatures who are not God: “God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us” (Rom 5:5).” (p.400, his emphasis)

Vanhoozer ends his essay by suggesting how such a view of atonement leads to the definition of true religion and spirituality and leads to a life of obedience and worship – “to practice the doctrine of atonement is to offer oneself back to the Creator and Redeemer, to the glory of God.” (p.402). It also helps us to see how in the atonement, there is nothing less happening than the triune God giving himself to sinners taken to the limit and beyond; and the cross as the condition and source of great covenantal blessing – “in loving his enemies (Rom 5:10), God brings his covenant partner to justice, not simply retribution.” (p.403, his emphasis) What is Vanhoozer’s overall conclusion of the place of PSA? “The economy of covenantal grace is not exhausted by the logic of penal substitution even though the latter has a legitimate place.” (p.404).

In many ways, Vanhoozer offers a fresh penetrating insight into how postmodernity challenges and even contributes to our understanding of the cross. His suggestion of viewing God’s salvation as an economy of excess rather than an economy of exchange is a welcomed one. He still has a place for retributive punishment (though for him, that should not be the only or exhaustive way of viewing the cross), but he goes beyond retributive punishment to God’s excessive self-giving love which is at the heart of the divine economy of excess he is proposing. This, for Vanhoozer, is justice (granted that Vanhoozer here is going with the postmodern definition of it). The other helpful point is Vanhoozer ‘backing up’ his whole ‘divine economy of excess’ proposal not just from the work of postmodern philosophers or theologians, but from the whole biblical concept of the covenantal relationship between God and his people. For Vanhoozer, the covenant and the whole blessings associated with it is excessive in nature – it is grace. PSA is God taking upon himself the sanctions of the covenant so that we can enjoy the blessings of it. Such a refreshing perspective is surely a welcome – at least to me!

However, a few questions and thoughts remain. Firstly, there is another important aspect of Jesus’ understanding of his own death. Besides seeing himself within a covenantal framework, Jesus also saw himself very much in the role of the suffering servant of Israel (for a good work on this idea, refer to Peter Bolt’s The Cross From a Distance). Of course, the role of the suffering servant (even as spelt in Isaiah) is never divorced from the larger covenantal framework the whole relationship Israel had with God is based in, but it remains to be shown more explicitly how these two concepts tie in together in Jesus’ understanding of his death. Secondly, while Vanhoozer has explained the concept of justice (both restorative and retributive) by the concept of covenant, one questions if the concept of covenant or covenantal love can totally exhaust this idea. From Romans 1-2, the Apostle Paul explains God’s wrath against the world and mankind, but it would be difficult to explain that within a covenantal framework (unless one goes with the concept of covenant of works with Adam etc. which I personally find it hard to substantiate from the Scriptures). In another words, the deeper metaphysical questions of the nature of God’s justice still needs to be explained and explored as we explore PSA, and while the concept of covenant complements it and is part of the explanation, it does not exhaust it. This leads to the third and final point – while Vanhoozer admits that PSA has a legitimate place in ‘the economy of covenantal grace’, can we go a step further to explore what place it has and how central is that place? Perhaps postmoderns will accuse such a step of stripping the ‘otherness’ of the atonement and trying to totalise the atonement with a theory; nevertheless we must ask, with the full revelation of God revealed in salvation history, can we see how the different aspects of the one atonement might be brought out, without either diluting their diversity or compromising on the overall unity? Such an attempts calls for nothing less than a combination of biblical theology and systematic theology

The ontological significance of penal substitution - thinking deeper on PSA 4

Bruce McCormack has an interesting essay ‘The Ontological Presuppositions of Barth’s Doctrine of the Atonement’ in The Glory of the Atonement. He states that we must not separate the work of Christ from the person of Christ in our systematic theology considerations. A response to the challenges facing PSA today hence requires us to integrate PSA not only ‘into a well-ordered Christology, but into a well-ordered doctrine of the Trinity as well’ (p.348). And here is where he suggests Barth offers a great deal of help.

McCormack begins by exploring the importance of the Chalcedonian formula for understanding the person and work of Christ – the two natures (human and divine) coming together in the one person of our Lord Jesus Christ. The two natures ‘ “come together into a single person and a single subsistent being” and that, as such, “he is not parted or divided into two persons, but is one and the same only-begotten Son, God, Word, Lord Jesus Christ.”’ In another words, the unity of divine and human in Jesus is expressed in the singularity or one-ness of the person, in whom are found two distinct natures (p.349-50). In another words, it is not God in a human, but God as a human. The Chalcedonian formula is both helpful and crucial in understanding the unity of human and divine in Christ.

However, McCormack suggests that it still leaves some “unattended issues”. In the traditional Chalcedonian thinking, the Logos is thought of as the ruling principle of Christ’s human nature. This leaves open the suggestion that ‘the human nature is reduced to the status of a passive instrument in the hands of the Logos; it is the object upon which the Logos acts’ (p.352). It also leaves open the question ‘who is the Logos?’ Merely a human being? That’s an answer which we would label under “liberal” theology and one which is excluded by the Chalcedonian formula. The Logos simpliciter (the eternal logos)? Such an answer is not excluded by the Chalcedonian formula and is an answer that would promote the idea mentioned above of the Logos as the operative agent and the human nature as merely an object through which the Logos acts. Or should the Logos be thought of as the God-human in his divine-human unity? McCormack suggests that in our outworking of the Chalcedonian formula, we have more often than not headed towards the second option. And he suggests the reason why we head down this path is because of our concept of “divine immutability” – It was unthinkable for the ancients that God could suffer and die. Hence we
“[abstract] the Logos from his human nature in order, by turns, now to make of the human nature something to be acted upon by the Logos and now to make of that nature a subject in its own right in order to seal the Logos off hermeneutically from all that befalls that human nature from without. In both cases, the Logos is abstracted from the human nature he assumed, and the Chalcedonian formula is read in terms of the second [possibility] rather than the third.” (p.355) (my emphasis)

McCormack further suggests that the reason why we hold on to this concept of “divine immutability” is because of our “substantialism” – our “substance” way of thinking of God’s “essence”. In such a way of thinking, “substance” is what it is that makes for the self-identical element in “persons” and it is complete in itself. In another words, when we define the essence of God in terms of his substance, we
“[…] make the essence of God to be complete apart from, and prior to, all of his decisions and acts. At most, what God does (whether in eternity or in time) manifests, or gives expression to, what he is, but what God does in no sense constitutive of what God is.” (p.357) (his emphasis)

McCormack advocates that pursuing this line of thinking to its very end means that it will become impossible to understand the human nature of Jesus Christ as the human nature of the eternal logos. Any attribution of anything “human” to the Logos would set aside the “immutalibility” of the Logos. Our understanding of the Chalcedonian formula would hence always vacillate between Apollinarianism (where the human nature is purely passive and is acted upon by the Logos) or Nestorianism (where the human nature is fully operative and where the Logos is ‘sealed off’ from its effects)!

Here is where Barth comes in, McCormack states. Barth advocates two inter-related things. Firstly, Barth replaces divine immutability which has been controlled by “substantialistic ontology” with what McCormack terms “historicized ontology” – who God is (his essence) is constituted by his sovereign and free act of self-determination in the incarnation. Secondly and inter-related, this self-determinaton is not one that happened improtu or unplanned, but is one that happened in eternity, i.e. it is an eternal decision. Pulling the two together, this means
“[…] that the being of God in eternity is a being-in-act; a “being” that is realised in the act of self determination for incarnation, and so forth. There is no state, no mode of being or existence above and prior to this eternal act of self-determination as substantialistic thinking would lead us to believe. God’s being in eternity is a being-in-act. And when, in time, he does that which he determined for himself in eternity, no change is brought about in him on an ontological level.” (p.359) (my emphasis)

All this means that for Barth, the second person of the Trinity is ‘not and never was the Logos simpliciter’. “The second person of the Trinity has- already in eternity – a name, and his name is Jesus Christ.” (p.360).

The implication of McCormack’s thought means that we can now truly think of the subject of our redemption not as a mere human being (option 1), nor as the Logos simpliciter (option 2), but really as ‘the Logos as human means’ (option 3). This means that whatever happens to the God-human in and through his human nature happens to the God-human in his divine-human unity, which means that whatever we think of as a human experience is taken up into the divine life and happens to the Logos as human. The implication for PSA is that we must not conceive of PSA as an action of God directed toward an innocent human being, nor even as an action of God the Father toward an “eternal Son” (conceived of as the Logos simpliciter, in abstraction from the human nature he assumed). But rather, PSA is an ‘event between the eternal Father and the Logos as human’ (p.364). The significance is this: PSA is where
“the human experience of “the penalty of death” that humans have merited through their sinfulness is taken into the very life of God himself. [...] The triune God pours his wrath out upon himself in and through the human nature that he has made his own in his second mode of his being – that is the ontological significance of penal substitution. The triune God takes this human experience into his own life [...] and in doing so, he vanquishes its power over us. That [...] is the meaning of penal substitution when seen against the background of a well-ordered Christology and a well-ordered doctrine of the Trinity.” (p.364).

I have two comments of McCormack’s proposal. The first is that McCormack has provided us a thorough-going and well detailed exploration into the Chalcedonian formula and its application to PSA, and in doing so, has highlighted the deeper ‘inconsistencies’ in the Formula when pressed to its upmost degree. And that is, as much as the Chalcedonian Formula tries to state the unity of the two natures in the one person, the refusal (due to our “substantialistic” way of thinking) to allow human experiences to be taken up into the person of the Logos (thought of as the Logos simpliciter) means that we will either reduce the human nature to a totally passive role in that it is merely an object acted upon or we will elevate the human nature such that it is totally operative and ‘seal’ off the Logos Simpliciter from any human experiences. This leads to the inconsistency. McCormack ‘s proposal allows for human experiences to be taken up into the divine life through the Logos as the God-man in its God-man unity. The implication for PSA is that there is so much more weight now when we say what happens in PSA is that ‘God Himself enters into his own wrath’ and that ‘God Himself steps in and bears our sin’. In fact, I am wondering if McCormack’s proposal might serve a solution to the logical difficulty posed by Oliver Crisp (see previous post) about whether Jesus in any way could have borne our guilt and our sin itself (though he definitely bears the penalty of our sin). If, taking Barth’s thoughts one step further, Jesus the God-man is both the object as well as the subject of election, if Jesus is both the elected one in that He is both the condemned one (reprobate one) and the one who experiences salvation as the true representative of humanity, then would that provide a way to explain how our guilt and sin is actually borne by Jesus, because our humanity is understood in light of this crucial eternal decision of God to become man for us? However, I am well aware of the consequences of such thinking, which in turn leads me to my second comment of McCormack’s proposal, and that is McCormack does not trace out the full implications of Barth’s thinking in this essay. And if McCormack did so, then we would inevitably end up with the bigger question (and one of the criticisms of Barth’s theology) of universalism (See Garry Williams ‘Karl Barth and the doctrine of the atonement’ in Engaging with Barth (Nottingham: APOLLOS; 2008), esp.262-270 for a fuller engagement). The question is whether we can go ‘part of the way’ with Barth’s thesis, or whether logic and consistency would have us go all the way – a question reserved for another time another place.

Thinking Deeper on Penal Substitutionary Atonement 3

In this third post, we will explore some of the theological issues pertaining to PSA, as gleaned from the essays from The Atonement Debate and The Glory of The Atonement.

In ‘Penal Substitution: A response to recent criticisms’ (Atonement), Garry Williams addresses 4 criticisms levelled against PSA – that PSA entails a mistaken doctrine of God by ascribing retributive justice to him; that PSA conflicts with the doctrine of the Trinity by severing the Father from the Son; that PSA grows out of modern Western individualism with its conception of “autobiographical justice”, and that PSA is guilty of doctrinal isolation in that it has no place for the life of Jesus, it cannot account for the cosmic scope of the work of Christ, and it undermines the need for moral renewal in the life of the believer subsequent to conversion (p.172-173). Williams handles each criticism in turn.

For the first criticism, Williams highlights that punishment can be intrinsic, follow from an act (i.e. as cause-and-effect), and yet still be retributive in character, especially if the punishment is deliberately brought about by some superhuman agency. This is against the definition of the opponents of PSA who restrict retribution to purely extrinsic and voluntarily and not part of a cause-and-effect sequence. Williams also highlights that retributive punishment can be imposed for both the acts and the character behind the acts, with the acts serving as evidence of the character. Finally, Williams highlights that punishment can be both personal and retributive in nature, as in the case with God’s judgement. There is no antithesis between the two – one can be in a non-relationship with Christ and that non-relationship can be seen as retributive punishment as well.

For the second criticism that PSA acts against the doctrine of the Trinity, Williams reminds us of Augustine’s principle that since the Father, Son, and Spirit are inseparable, so they work inseparably. Jesus must not be thought of as purely the object in the atonement, and the Father the subject. Rather, Jesus himself is also the subject (he willingly lays down his life John 10:17-18), and even if his role within the Godhead in atonement is distinguished as the object, he is a willing object. Against the third criticism of individualism, Williams states that PSA in fact operates on a denial of individualism – the ‘guilty individual is not punished for his or her own sins as an individual. Rather, corporate categories are powerfully at work in the historic doctrine of penal substitution’ (p.181). But rather, in Christ our corporate head, as we become members of his body in the mystical spiritual bond between us and Christ, we find our punishment taken on our behalf and forgiveness found. Williams in fact suggests that this understanding of ‘corporate substitution’ will lend itself well in a postmodern culture which holds to ‘a communal accounting of human nature’ (p.183). Against the fourth criticism, Williams uses the idea of ‘Jesus as new Israel’ (as emphasised by N.T. Wright) to show how his whole life exemplified the pattern of PSA - “Jesus is Israel, and he is exiled. Exile is the punishment for Israel’s disobedience, and Jesus takes it on himself as the new Israel. Having borne the penalty for sin, he then rises to life and brings forgiveness.” (p.183). Williams also states that PSA has a cosmic renewal element to it as well – it is precisely because Jesus exhausted the curse of spiritual death that there can be resurrection and new creation. Finally, PSA also leads to moral renewal as Rom 6 so clearly teaches – “we died to sin, how can we live in it any longer?”

In conclusion, Williams states:

“Penal substitution is central because of its explanatory power with regards to the justice of the other models of the atonement. Note that such a claim affirms rather than denies the existence of other models, but it also affirms the centrality of penal substitutionary atonement to them.” (p.188).

In ‘Atonement, Creation and Trinity’ (Atonement), Graham McFarlane affirms that ‘the doctrine of creation provides the backdrop against which our thinking of the cross and the Trinity must be developed’ (p.194). Our understanding of humanity is hence bound up with our understanding of ourselves as relational beings (“we are to the degree we relate” p.195); sin is a manifestation of disordered relating and relationships and hence nothing less than a relational catastrophe; and hence the cross addresses ‘a multilayered network of relational associations it seeks to resolve’ (p.200). It is against this backdrop that McFarlane suggests that what happens on the cross is nothing less than the ‘place where the Lord of creation both covers our sins and stems the consequences of our relational dysfunction’ and he does so out of his initiative, not ours (p.202). Is there a place for justice within this backdrop? Yes, McFarlane proposes, but it is to be placed within the context of the Father’s love (McFarlane states that we must not think of PSA as God does not necessarily need to love but he does need to judge), and we must not think of atonement as primarily a desire for justice; rather, it is the restoration of relationship that is on view. McFarlane states, “divine love reshapes divine justice and does so by going beyond the boundaries established by normal law” (p.204). In line with his ‘relational’ backdrop, atonement for McFarlane is also covered comprehensively not just by Jesus’ death, but also by his incarnation, his life of obedience and his resurrection.

Finally, in ‘The Logic of Penal Substitution Revisited’ (Atonement), Oliver Crisp shows his strength in philosophical theology by examining in detail the logic of PSA. After outlining the assumptions behind PSA and restating the doctrine, Crisp outlines 4 ‘logical’ problems with PSA – i) Whether the doctrine of PSA reduces the love of God to something arbitrary in that God chooses to love only an elect, less than the total number of humanity, on no other basis than that he wills to do so ii) PSA seems to limit God from being able to simply forgive sin iii) Does PSA entail the actual transfer of sin from the sinner to Christ, and not just the transfer of penal consequences of that sin from the sinner to Christ? iv) Does PSA also mean guilt is transferred?

Crisp answers by first stating the PSA means that its proponents have to (or must) allow a concept of legal relaxation that applies to Christ’s atonement i.e. Christ is able to take on the punishment for sin because God decides that Christ’s work satisfies the requirement for sin, and God is willing to accept Christ’s work as a substitute for the sin of those human beings whom Christ came to save. Built into this is also the premise that the legal relaxation of punishment in the case of the atonement is consistent with divine justice. With regards to problem i), Crisp states that the problem is not so much one of penal substitution as a theory of the atonement but the way in which this theory is applied. If the defender of PSA holds onto particular redemption, then an arbitrariness problem does follow. “But a defender of PSA does not need to embrace this conclusion simply because they think PSA is right” (p.221). With regards to problem ii), Crisp suggests that the assumptions behind PSA already weakens the argument – ‘if divine justice is both retributive and inexorable such that God cannot permit forgiveness without punishment or satisfaction, then God cannot simply forgive sin without satisfaction being made’ (p.221). With regards to iii) and iv), Crisp honestly admits that this poses for the proponent of PSA a serious problem. I quote him:

“[…] The central problem with penal substitution remains: it is not possible for the sin and guilt of one individual to be transferred to another individual. […] Perhaps God can relax his justice to the extent that he can accept a vicarious satisfaction of the infinite debt owed by human beings instead of punishing them. If God can do this, it is a legal arrangement that has no obvious parallel in human penal transactions and still appears to be unjust, even if it is not arbitrary. And this problem alone poses serious difficulties for the traditional arguments for penal substitution.” (p.223).

However, Crisp states ‘matters are not as bleak’ as what is suggested. Crisp proposes 2 possibilities. The first is to go for an Anselmian satisfaction theory instead of a penal substitution theory. This ‘is a robust doctrine of atonement that delivers much of what penal substitution promises without some of the more problematic aspects of penal substitution’ (p.223). The other way is to ‘salvage’ the traditional doctrine of PSA by appealing to Augustinian realism, where God ‘constitutes humanity one metaphysical whole for the purposes of the imputation of sin’ (p.224). This calls for a closer examination of the doctrine of union with Christ – not just to see how Union with Christ provides us a way to see the benefits of salvation applied to us; but also how union with Christ can provide a robust doctrine of PSA – a task which I would very much like to take up in the future!

Thinking Deeper on Penal Substitutionary Atonement 2

In this post, I will attempt to summarise the key points from some of the essays from The Atonement Debate and The Glory of The Atonement which explore the biblical foundation or basis of PSA.

First up is Ian Howard Marshall’s ‘The Theology of the Atonement’ (Atonement). Marshall begins helpfully by suggesting four views that can be held about PSA (p.50):

• The principle of PSA does not figure in the NT at all

• It is only one of the pictures, metaphors, or analogies used in the NT to express the significance of the death of Jesus Christ. Some might argue that in this case it is of lesser importance or even dispensable

• It occurs to such an extent that it is not only indispensable but also the most important

• It is the underlying principle present in all the others and the factor that makes them cohere.

Marshall contends that though terms like ‘penal’ and ‘anger’ and ‘appeasement’ are open to misunderstanding, when properly understood, they express the heart of the matter (p.51). This is because ‘the reality of final judgement as the active response of God to human sin is an absolutely central part of the predicament from which sinners need to be saved’ (Ibid.) Marshall suggests that such a picture of judgement and condemnation is conveyed by the complex network of terminologies such as punishment, vengeance, wrath, judgement, and destruction and death found throughout the NT. This teaching of judgement and condemnation ‘cannot be pushed to one side as being less important than the other aspects of human sin and need’ (p.53); neither should wrath and judgement be made something impersonal and mechanistic rather than the personal reaction of the living God. He states: “To deny that God feels negatively about sin is a denial of the personal character of God, who reacts to evil that ruins his creation and destroys his relationship with his creatures.” (p.54) Marshall then contends a step further that the NT uses this kind of language about God’s judgement and wrath because he is holy (or righteous) and loving, two irreducible facets of the character of God. Citing the work of P.T. Forsyth, Marshall contends that the holiness of God must figure centrally in any doctrine of the atonement, and that at the cross, holiness is divinely satisfied once for all. Marshall then moves on to ask a further question – even if PSA is clearly present as one NT understanding of the death of Christ, is it principal and determinative? Marshall answers this question by stating how the death of Christ is portrayed in biblical terms in the NT – sacrifice, curse, redemption and ransom, reconciliation, and forgiveness (p.59-61). He states:

“It is clear that essentially the same basic principle is expressed in each of these different understandings of the death of Jesus. The principle of one person bearing the painful consequences of sin is the modus operandi of the different understandings of the cross. There are different nuances [...] But the central action, common to them all, is God doing something in Christ that involves the death of Christ, who bears our sins and the painful consequences of them. Christ’s sacrifice saves us from exclusion from the kingdom of God. The term “penal substitution” appropriately expresses this process.” (p.61).

I found Marshall’s essay to be very helpful in thinking about PSA from the biblical evidence. Without zooming into specific passages (due to lack of space), Marhsall paints broad strokes from the canvas of the NT, with a clear methodology outlining and leading to his conclusion. His book which explores these issues at a wider depth, Aspects of the Atonement: Cross and Resurrection in the Reconciling of God and Humanity (Milton Keynes: Paternoster, 2007) will certainly be worth getting.

Christopher Wright explores atonement in the OT in his essay of the same title (Atonement). With broad strokes similar to Marshall, he highlights the problem or predicament as described in the OT under 8 brilliant headings: A relationship that is broken: the relational aspect; The disturbance of shalom: the social aspect; Rebellion against authority: the covenantal aspect; Guilt that necessitates punishment: the legal aspect; Uncleanness and pollution: the ritual aspect; Shame and disgrace on oneself and/or on God: the emotional aspect; An accumulating burden: the historical aspect, and Death: the final aspect. This leads to his conclusion that atonement language is one part of this “putting right”, but the solution requires more than just a satisfaction of the penal or legal aspect of the problem. The other interesting point raised is that regarding the purpose or function of the levite sacrifices – are they expiatory or propitiatory? Wright states ‘both’. He states, “Putting things right, then, includes both a God-oriented and a human-orientated dimension. Sacrifice both cleanses the worshipper and “soothes” the wrath of God.” (p.77). Lastly, Wright also states correctly that ‘the language of sacrificial substitution and vicarious sin-bearing runs through Isaiah 53 unmistakeably’ (p.80).

The third essay is that by Steve Motyer ‘the Atonement in Hebrews’ (Atonement). Motyer begins by stating his conclusion – that ‘penal substitution does not provide a useful summary of Hebrews’ teaching about the atonement, and that Hebrews does indeed say different things about what Jesus did for us on the cross – things that are truly glorious and worship-raising but are not penal substitution’ (p.136). Motyer contends instead that Hebrews presents a picture of the death of Jesus as Jesus who shares in our suffering (with death as its supreme expression), and who because of that, becomes the High Priest who attains perfection and brings his people with him, i.e. a ‘representative leading us to perfection over death’ view of the atonement. While providing an interesting argument, Motyer has one fundamental flaw in his methodology – he assumes a strong discontinuity between the OT and the NT, so much so that he states that ‘the sacrifice of Christ is different from those of the old covenant. This means that we cannot use the Old Testament to explain what God was doing in Christ’ (p.139). Motyer’s presupposition has blinded him to what seems like a clear evidence that the purpose of the writer of Hebrews was not so much to show the discontinuity of Jesus from the OT sacrificial type, but more to show the continuity, and in fact beyond the continuity to show Jesus as the final fulfilment.

Overall, where does this lead us? I hope it is clear that PSA does have a firm biblical warrant or basis from the Scriptures as one way of presenting the atoning death of Jesus. The question is how central or key is this particular way of understanding Jesus’ death? Strange enough, this question does not seem to be the question opponents of PSA are contending against. Rather, they seem determined to keep PSA out of the picture altogether (position 1 under Marshall’s proposal). As what Garry Williams highlighted, this is ironic since opponents of PSA often call for a more ‘multicoloured’ view of the cross, but yet it is they who reduce the historical diversity by rejecting one major model. But agreeing that PSA has biblical warrant as one of the ways of viewing Jesus’ death is but the bare minimum. We can go further than that. As what Marshall suggested, there is evidence across the biblical canvas to suggest that PSA expresses the heart of the matter. Perhaps what is needed is an acknowledgement that we should not speak of discrete ‘models’ of the atonement, but rather we should speak of different aspects of the one atonement, and try to see how these aspects cohere and relate to one another and whether any one aspect of the atonement rightly organises or illumines or takes precedence over the others.

Thinking Deeper on Penal Substitutionary Atonement 1

September has been spent reading and thinking deeper on Penal Substitutionary Atonement (PSA)– mainly from essays of two books on the subject, The Atonement Debate: Papers from the London Symposium on the theology of atonement (ed. Derek Tidball, David Hilborn, & Justin Thacker; Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2008), and The Glory of the Atonement (ed. Charles E. Hill & Frank A. James III; Downers Grove: InterVarsity, 2004).
I hope to, in the following posts, address some of the issues. We begin with objections to PSA.

Steve Chalke in ‘The Redemption of the Cross’ (Atonement) presents why he is against PSA. Incidentally, the current debate on PSA was ‘revived’ in part by Chalke’s The Lost Message of Jesus. Biblically, Chalke argues that PSA does not fit comfortably the ‘multicoloured rather than monochrome’ presentation of the theology of the atonement in the New Testament (though he admits there is substitution in the atonement, just not of a penal nature). In one portion of the essay, Chalke candidly states his difficulty with PSA:
“The greatest theological problem with penal substitution is that it presents us with a God who is first and foremost concerned with retribution for sin that flows from his wrath against sinners. The only way for his anger to be placated is in receiving recompense from those who have wronged him, and although his great love motivates him to send his Son, his wrath remains the driving force behind the need for the cross.” (p.39)
Historically, Chalke (quoting Joel Green and Mark Baker) argues that supporters of PSA have tended to “read back” modern views of PSA onto ancient texts or writings of the church fathers or early Christian writers to bolster their claims - the most famous example of which is the work of Anselm of Canterbury. Culturally, PSA fosters violence (“Penal substitutionary theory betrays Jesus’ attempt to root out the tendency of religion to lead to violence by inventing a theology of his death that is in direct opposition to his teaching”, p.41), and reflects ‘the 19th and 20th century culturally dominant values of individualism, autonomy and consumerism’. Pastorally and ethically, PSA seems to offer instant forgiveness without challenging basic day-to-day moral behaviour (ibid.) For Chalke, the best idea or concept that helps capture the story of salvation lies very closely to the Christus Victor view . He states in closing:
“It is Easter Sunday, not Good Friday, that shows the new kingdom in all its glory and God’s love in all its fullness. On the cross, Jesus does not placate God’s anger in taking the punishment for sin but rather absorbs its consequences and, as three days later he is raised, defeats death. It is the resurrection which finally puts the Victor in Christus Victor!” (p.44)

Another essay heading in the same direction is that of Joel Green ‘Must we imagine the atonement in penal substitutionary terms? Questions, caveats and a plea’ (Atonement). Green begins by referring to the Apostles’ Creed – how though the place of the cross is vitally important, the Creed remains silent when it comes to the more specific question of how Jesus’ death is salvific. This means, as Green proposes, that ‘one can inhabit the land of Christian orthodoxy, classically defined, without embracing a particular theory of the atonement, be it the now-regnant penal substitutionary model or some other’ (p.154). Green also states his view that mere or more biblical exegesis only will not solve the question. Rather, ‘larger issues are operating’ (p.155). Green’s contention against PSA is that it ‘strips Jesus’ death from its historical context in the Roman world and from its narrative context in the Gospels. Theologically, the model of penal substitutonary atonement eclipses the historical particularity of Jesus’ crucifixion, resulting in a serious deficit of interest in the incarnation and in Jesus’ human life and mission’ (p.159), i.e. PSA seems to advocate a view where only the death of Jesus is important – his incarnation, his obedient and faithful life, and his resurrection are at best sidelined, and at worst ignored. Green then proceeds on to name three questions that arise from biblical exegesis regarding PSA. The first is ‘by what logic can it be assumed that anger is quenched by acting upon it [through PSA]’ (p.160) – in another words, does the transfer of guilt satisfy the demands of justice? (A vital question which Oliver Crisp deals with in his brilliant essay ‘the logic of penal substitution revisited’ in the same volume, which I hope to address later). Secondly, if the Apostle Paul depended on the Old Testament notion of atoning sacrifice, there is no strict connection that the OT idea of sacrifice concerns the appeasement of God’s wrath; or that the appeasement of God’s wrath is the best way to articulate the instrumentality of that atonement (Green here is returning to the ‘expiation’ vs. ‘propitiation’ debate about the nature of OT sacrifices). Thirdly, in response to those who suggest that Rom 3:21-26 builds upon the picture of a God of wrath from Rom 1-2, Green contends that there is nothing to suggest that the wrath of God in Rom 1-2 is vindictive indignation or the anger of divine retribution. Rather, it is God’s divine response to human unfaithfulness. He states, “wicked acts do not stir up the wrath of God but are themselves already the consequences of the active presence of God’s wrath. That is, sinful activity if the result of God’s letting us go our own way, and this letting us go our own way constitutes God’s wrath.” (p.163). Culturally, Green also suggests that PSA is greatly indebted to ‘its incubation in an environment structured around individualism and mechanism’ – ‘individualism’ where we understand the death of Jesus in forensic terms focused on the status of the individual before God; and ‘mechanism’ where we are only satisfied with views of the atonement that clarify “how” in objective, cause-effect relations (p.164-65). In conclusion, Green states, “In short, the model of penal substitutionary atonement provides, at best , no basis for a thoroughgoing soteriology and, at worst, stands in its way.” (p.167).

I refer to these two essays because together, they summarise the main arguments against PSA and show the kind of attacks PSA is subjected under today – from the biblical exegesis front (is PSA a true or even accurate picture of the atonement from the wealth of biblical passages or the whole biblical storyline?); from the logic front (how does PSA work logically? Can it even by transferring guilt actually work in satisfying justice?); from the historical theology front (Does PSA accurately represent the views of the church fathers or early Christian writers?); from the systematic theology front (What is the doctrine of God assumed in the view of PSA or any other view for that matter?); from the ethics front (Does PSA promote ‘cheapened’ Christian living?); and from the cultural and contemporary front (Is PSA flourishing only because of the modern cultural context of individualism we are in? Is PSA still needed and useful in postmodernity?) These are huge questions which I hope to start addressing in subsequent posts.

Chris Wright on a Missional Hermeneutic of the Bible

In the 1st two chapters of his book The Mission of God: Unlocking the Bible’s Grand Narrative (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2006), Chris Wright suggests that instead of seeing the Bible as merely providing a basis for mission (e.g. from favourite passages like Matt 28:18-20), it might be more profitable to see that there is a missional basis for the Bible – i.e. the Bible is generated by and is all about God’s mission. In another words, he suggests and tries to define the shape of a missional hermeneutic of the Bible.

Wright first tries to justify the idea of a missional hermeneutic. One of his main reasons is that the Bible can be seen as the product of God’s Mission. He states: “The whole canon of Scripture is a missional phenomenon in the sense that it witnesses to the self-giving movement of this God toward his creation and us, human beings in God’s own image, but wayward and wanton. The writings that now comprise our Bible are themselves the product of and witness to the ultimate mission of God.” (p.48). The processes by which the Scriptural texts came to be written also arose often out of a missional context or situation. Wright further shows how this missional context or situation which resulted in writing can be seen in the New Testament and Old Testament documents. In short, ‘the whole Bible renders to us the story of God’s mission through God’s people in their engagement with God’s world for the sake of the whole of God’s creation’ (p.51).

As for the shape of how such a missional hermeneutical looks like, Wright states that we first have to shift our paradigm and understanding of ‘mission’ from ‘our human agency to the ultimate purposes of God himself; missions as “missions” that we undertake, to mission as that which God has been purposing and accomplishing from eternity to eternity; and an anthropocentric (or ecclesiocentric) conception to a radically theocentric worldview’ (p.62). He then proposes a shape for the missional hermeneutic under the following headings:

• God with a mission. The missional hermeneutic begins with us recognising that we have a ‘missional’ God. Wright cautiously agrees with the term missio Dei, often used to encapsulate this idea. The missional nature of God is seen in how the biblical narrative begins with a God of purpose in creation, moves on to the conflict and problem generated by human rebellion against that purpose, spends most of its narrative journey in the story of God’s redemptive purposes worked out in the stage of human history, and finishes beyond the horizon of its own history with the eschatological hope of the new creation (p.63). While not squashing out many of the smaller narratives that occur in the Bible, there is a general flow – the ‘affirmation that there is one God at work in the universe and in human history, and that this God has a goal, a purpose, a mission that will ultimately be accomplished by the power of God’s Word and for the glory of God’s name. This is the mission of the biblical God (p.64)’.
• Humanity with a mission. Chris suggests that the creational mandate (Gen 1:28) sets humanity and mankind out on a mission. It is out of this missional understanding that generates our ‘ecological responsibility, our economic activity involving work, productivity, exchange and trade, and our whole cultural mandate’ (p.65).
• Israel with a mission. Israel’s election, Chris contends, was for the sake of all nations. The universality of God’s purposes for the nations, but yet seen in this particular stage in salvation history in the particularity of God’s choosing of Israel, remains as one of recurrent themes in the Old Testament.
• Jesus with a mission. Jesus came with a clear understanding and purpose that he was sent, and that he was the fulfilment of the Servant figure in Isaiah and the Davidic messianic king (Isa 42:1 and Ps 2:7, both of which are affirmed in the voice from Heaven at Jesus’ baptism). Jesus had a clear understanding that his will was to do his Father’s will, his mission was determined by God’s mission. Wright states, “In Jesus the radically theocentric nature of biblical mission is most clearly focused and modelled.” (p.66)
• The church with a mission. Jesus in turn, entrusts to us the church a mission that is rooted in his own identity, passion and victory as the crucified and risen Messiah. (p.66).

In summary, Wright states that a missional hermeneutic means that we seek to read any part of the bible in the light of i) God’s purposes for his whole creation ii) God’s purpose for human life in general and all the bible teaches about human culture, relationships, ethics and behaviour iii) God’s historical election of Israel and the effect that has on the nations and their own national life in terms of obeying God iv) the centrality of Jesus v) God’s calling of the church to be the agent of God’s blessing to the nations in the name and for the glory of the Lord Jesus (p.67). He ends the chapter by suggesting how, like a map, this hermeneutical framework will not give an account of every single detail and landmark in the biblical landscape, but that it will provide a way of seeing the whole terrain, of navigating one’s way through it as one experiences the reality of the biblical landscape (p.68-69).

Overall, Wright has provided an interesting suggestion. He is right on how seeing how missions should not be viewed first and foremost as activity and in an anthropocentric way. If we do, our tendency would be to use the Bible to justify such activity and viewpoint. Rather, if we view missions as something integral to God Himself – something God does for the sake of his glory and purpose (and here, some would go further to suggest that missional is something God is) – then missions could be a key way of summarising what the flow of the Bible is about. In another words, there is some truth in Wright’s proposal that just as the Bible gives a biblical basis for missions, there is also a missional basis to the Bible. I’m not fully persuaded though that a missional hermeneutic (as Wright presents it as God with a mission; humanity with a mission; Israel with a mission; Jesus with a mission; and the church with a mission) actually serves to tell one what the Bible is all about – or in other words, what’s the content in this river of the Biblical story that is being told. Missions serves as a good and right way of describing the flow and direction of this river, but something else needs to be filled in to tell us what’s actually flowing in this river. Or to use Wright’s closing analogy of the map – I’m not too sure if his missional hermeneutic actually introduces us and connects the major features in the biblical landscape as we travel through it. Rather, I think the missional hermeneutic acts more like the vehicle we are sitting in as we navigate through the biblical landscape. We are heading somewhere with it, but we still need something else – another map – that helps to explain the major features of the landscape as we are carried along. As to what that map is, suggestions abound – the glory of God manifested in Christ (Schreiner); the Kingdom of God (Goldsworthy); or perhaps not the presence of any one main theme, but the inter-relation and connection of a few central themes (Carson? The writers of Central themes in Biblical Theology? My own view)