Category Archives: Theological Issues

Posts on theological issues not in other categories

The Faith of Christ

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There has been quite a storm of blogging about the phrase πίστις Χριστοῦ pistis Christou, literally “(the) faith of Christ”, which is found in a number of Bible passages, including Romans 3:22. Traditionally this has been translated “faith in Christ”. But in recent years many scholars (especially as part of the “New Perspective on Paul” movement), and at least one translation, the NET Bible, have preferred to understand the phrase as “the faithfulness of Christ”. The noun πίστις pistis can indeed mean “faithfulness” as well as “faith”. Also many people consider that the simple Greek genitive construction is more naturally understood as “subjective”, i.e. with Christ as the subject of faith or faithfulness, rather than as “objective”, i.e. with Christ as the object of faith.

But not everyone is happy with this new interpretation, not least the pseudonymous blogger NT Wrong. Now I generally avoid reading pseudonymous blogs, unless there is a good reason for not giving a real name as in the case of Roger Mugs. So I have not read Wrong’s own arguments. But I have read various reactions to them, most notably those of Doug Chaplin, who grants Wrong no mercy, here, here and here. The matter has also been discussed at Better Bibles Blog, in a post which also links to a number of others.

I will not attempt here to settle the question of what the Greek phrase can or cannot mean. If the many scholars who have looked at the issue cannot settle it, then what chance have I? But I will express some more theological thoughts about this matter.

Several blog commenters have questioned whether there are only two alternative understandings, “faith in Christ” and “the faithfulness of Christ”. Indeed there are not. There is a third alternative which I would like to suggest: “the faith of Christ”. And while that English expression could be understood in a rather general way, something like “Christian faith”, the meaning I have in mind is “the faith which Christ had”. That is, I am suggesting that human salvation depends in some sense not only on our faith but on Jesus’ faith.

I thought I had blogged before about Thomas Aquinas’ teaching that Jesus did not have faith, but all I can find is a passing mention in this BBB post. The great mediaeval theologian’s argument was that Jesus as Son of God was omniscient and so had no need for faith. But I see two inadequacies in this argument: firstly, Jesus as a man on earth chose to limit his omniscience and so did know everything about the future; and secondly, the implied definition of faith as intellectual assent to propositions not known to be true is highly inadequate.

Against Aquinas there is a biblical argument, and not only from the phrase I am discussing here. True, I don’t think that anywhere does the Bible speak explicitly of Jesus believing or having faith. Probably the only example of Jesus being the subject of the verb pisteuo “believe” is John 2:24, where in context it means “entrust”.

But it is in Hebrews 12:2, which should be understood as the finale of the great Hebrews 11 chapter on heroes of faith, that we see that Jesus had faith, and how it relates to our own faith. Here we read that Jesus was “the pioneer and perfecter of faith” (TNIV). The word translated “pioneer” means something like “the one who opens up a new path”. And so this expression suggests that Jesus was the first to tread the new and better path of faith  (compare 11:40) and to open up the way for others to follow. As the rest of the verse explains, he did this by enduring the cross, “for the joy that was set before him” which he could see only by faith.

On this understanding or model of Jesus’ life and death, as a model or guide for our faith as well as the opening up of a path, it should be clear how πίστις Χριστοῦ pistis Christou can be understood, according to its literal rendering, as “the faith of Christ”. Of course on this model there is no clear distinction between “faith” and “faithfulness”: Jesus’ life of faith meant faithfulness to his calling, and the same should be true of our life of faith. Romans 3:21-22 can then be understood as the righteousness or justice of God being revealed to us through the way in which Jesus lived his life of faith which led him to the cross. This life of faith then becomes an example to us but also more than an example, indeed an atoning sacrifice.

Avery Dulles (1918-2008) on Jesus' Atoning Death

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Since this blog is back on the subject of why Jesus died, I thought it would be interesting to link to the views of the recently deceased Avery Dulles, a Roman Catholic cardinal described by John Hobbins as “an enthusiastic supporter of the Evangelical Catholic movement” (John’s link replaced by a more appropriate one). Michael Barber has posted an extract from Dulles’ writing which is of great relevance to the atonement debates on this blog and others.

Here is a large part of what Michael quotes from Dulles:

One person may represent another, but cannot substitute for that other except in a merely functional way. As Dorothee Sölle has brilliantly explained, substitution is the definitive exchange of reified objects, whereas representation is the provisional intervention of persons on behalf of other persons. To retain this distinction, it seems preferable to avoid speaking of “substitutionary atonement” in the case of Jesus Christ. Sölle herself proposes to speak rather of Christ the Representative…

Because there is no mechanical substitution of one person for another, the representative death of Christ does not automatically remit the guilt of sinners. The merits of Christ are not simply imputed to us by some kind of juridical fiction; rather we are truly and inwardly healed through the infusion of the grace that flows from him. We have to allow ourselves to be taken over by Christ as he stands in for us. This we do by appropriating Christ’s action on our behalf through free and personal acts of faith, hope, and loving obedience…

Does the vicarious nature of redemption mean that Jesus is punished in our place? Some authors, indulging in very powerful rhetoric, describe in lurid terms the way in which the wrath of the eternal Father was visited upon the guiltless Son, so that he felt rejected and even hated by God…

Against these views, I would insist that Jesus remained at all times the well-beloved Son, living in close communion with the Father through the incomparable grace that flooded his soul…

The advantages of the representational sacrifice theory, and the answers to the objections raised against it, may be clarified by a review of the alternative theories described at the opening of this paper. In some ways the sacrificial interpretation, as I have proposed it, resembles the first theory, that of penal substitution, but the differences are important. Both theories maintain that Jesus suffered terrible ordeals and thereby won for sinners a release from the pains they deserve. But the penal substitution theory makes it appear that God punishes the innocent in place of the guilty, thereby suggesting that God is unjust. The theory of representative headship, by contrast, looks upon Jesus as one who offered satisfaction, rather than endured punishment. These are true alternatives. As Anselm insisted, sin requires either punishment or satisfaction; satisfaction takes the place of punishment… Satisfaction is voluntarily given, whereas punishment must be coercively endured. Satisfaction, unlike punishment, can be offered by the innocent as well as by the guilty.

Punishment, as an act of justice, must be strictly proportioned to the offense, but satisfaction, as a work of love, may be superabundant. According to Thomas Aquinas, Christ “offered to God more than was required to compensate for the sin of all humanity.”

For more of this, read Michael’s post, or follow his link (which I have not done) to the whole of Dulles’ article.

What Dulles wrote seems to me to make a lot of sense. Penal substitution is sometimes seen as a mere variant of Anselm’s satisfaction model of the atonement. But Dulles makes it clear how different it is – or at least how different certain popular understandings of penal substitution are. And it is against these popular understandings that writers like Steve Chalke and Jeffrey John reacted so strongly.

But, to be fair, the position of the more careful proponents of penal substitutionary atonement, such as J.I. Packer, is not so different from that of Dulles. Packer writes:

The Trinitarian principle is that the three distinct persons within the divine unity, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, always work inseparably together, as in creation, so in providence and in every aspect of the work of redemption. … It was with his own will and his own love mirroring the Father’s, therefore, that he took the place of human sinners exposed to divine judgment and laid down his life as a sacrifice for them, entering fully into the state and experience of death that was due to them. Then he rose from death to reign by the Father’s appointment in the kingdom of God.

I would be surprised if Dulles would have had serious disagreement with Packer’s article.

What or who are we saved from: my thoughts

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In my previous post I asked simply “What or who are we saved from?”, repeating a question asked by Brian McLaren. I am grateful for five comments so far, not counting my own one. Now I will move on to giving some kind of answer.

TC, MzEllen and Alastair are of course right that the question as originally posed presents a false distinction, with an implication that the answer is either/or when, at least according to these three, the correct answer is both/and. But is it really a matter of both/and? I would suggest not, at least not in the way this is sometimes understood.

So, are we saved from God? Does God hate us and want to destroy us, until Jesus somehow persuades him not to? This is how the matter is sometimes presented by popular preachers, and by the church noticeboard in my town which (I am told) proclaims “God hates you”. I am with Ferg on this:

I always found it a strange concept to think that God would send Jesus to save us from Himself.

To me, this idea is not only immoral and repugnant, it also goes against the Bible which, while occasionally (but only in the Old Testament and one quote in the New) stating that God hates sinners, consistently proclaims God’s love for the world and for humankind, and that that is why he sent Jesus.

Of course the Bible does speak of the wrath of God being poured out – but on what? Read Romans 1:18 carefully: this wrath is revealed not against sinners but against human ungodliness and wickedness. True, those who fail to heed God’s warning to separate themselves from ungodliness and wickedness find themselves experiencing God’s wrath, but they are not its intended target:

God did not appoint us to suffer wrath but to receive salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ.

1 Thesssalonians 5:9 (TNIV)

From this perspective, the gospel is like a flood warning. God is sending his wrath as a destructive flood (now metaphorically, but the literal flood in Noah’s time prefigures this) to cleanse the world of all kinds of wickedness. Anything that the flood touches will be destroyed. But first he sends a warning to every human being (Romans 1:19,20), to flee from the coming wrath (Matthew 3:7), separate themselves from evil and find safety in Jesus Christ.

So, yes, we need to be saved both from evil and from the wrath of God. But this is not because God is or ever was against us: rather he is always for us and wants the best for us, which is our eternal salvation. His wrath is a danger only to those who ignore his warnings about what will certainly happen to those who stay in the place of evil which will be destroyed.

What or who are we saved from?

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This is the question being asked by Brian McLaren, as reported by John and Olive Drane, thanks to Sally for the link:

One other thing we’ve been thinking about is the way Brian focused the atonement debate, with this question: what or who do we need to be saved from – from God (who is angry with us), or from evil, which is against both us and God?

Before I attempt to answer this question, I will give you, my readers, the chance to tell me what you think.

Can Christians fall away? The examples of Bentley and Obama

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Every time I write about Todd Bentley, as I did on Monday, there is a huge jump in traffic to this blog. So I feel justified in writing on a subject in which there is a lot of interest. Or is this just tickling my ego? Whichever may be true, here is another post about him, and about Barack Obama. To be more precise, it is about the way we evangelical Christians react to people like these two.

What do these two have in common? It is that they were both at one time doing what good evangelical Christians should do, and now neither of them is doing. Obama responded to an altar call and had what I have called “a clear evangelical conversion experience”. Bentley started with this and went on to become an international evangelist with a major (but controversial) healing ministry. Obama, at least to some extent, rejected evangelical theology and became something of a universalist. Bentley’s rejection was in a different direction, a fall into sin from which he has not yet repented.

As an evangelical I might say that these two have fallen away from the true faith, in very different ways. But can a true Christian do this? Jeremy Pierce seems to deny it, when he writes, in a comment here concerning what I called Obama’s conversion experience, that

Obama seems to me not to have had such an experience, and if he had then I think he would have a very different attitude toward scripture (for one thing, actually believing it and following it when his inclination is to reject it as making God too cruel).

In other words, Jeremy seems to be claiming that Obama’s low view of Scripture and generally liberal theology is proof that he never had been a genuine evangelical Christian. I find this an astonishing claim, in the light of the evidence that many former evangelicals have drifted into liberal theology.

Let’s first detach this claim from the issue of whether such people will ultimately be saved, which I have discussed here before – something which cannot be known in the present, especially as there presumably remains a possibility of them repenting of liberal ideas and fully returning to the evangelical fold.

But what are the implications of Jeremy’s claim? If tomorrow the pastor under whose ministry I was converted, or who baptised me, or from whom I regularly receive communion, turns away from his faith and professes liberal ideas, where does that leave me?

I can’t help wondering if Jeremy would also hold that Bentley’s persistence, for the moment, in sin is proof that he too never had been a genuine evangelical Christian. There are certainly plenty of people around who cite this sin as evidence that his ministry was never genuine and the whole Lakeland outpouring was some kind of fraud. But does such reasoning make sense? I don’t think so.

Let’s remind ourselves that the church rejected Donatism, the sectarian teaching that ministers of the gospel who denied the faith could not be restored, that their repentance could not be accepted. My own Church of England clearly teaches, in Article XXVI, that the ministry of even the most sinful ministers is valid. This article directly contradicts any suggestion that baptism by an apostate or backsliding pastor or exercise of spiritual gifts by a sinning Todd Bentley is invalid. It even more clearly rules out any conclusion that baptism by a pastor who later becomes an apostate or backslider or exercise of spiritual gifts by Todd Bentley before he fell into sin is invalid.

So how should we relate to a Bentley or an Obama? Both apparently started well but then went astray. There are plenty of biblical examples of this, such as: King David, at the time of his adultery; King Solomon; the Galatians as addressed in Galatians 3:1-5; Hymenaeus and Alexander in 1 Timothy 1:19-20. In none of these cases is there any suggestion that these people were not at first genuinely following God’s way. Now I admit that that suggestion is made about the “antichrists” of 1 John 2:18-19; but I hope no one is going to suggest that either Obama or Bentley is the Antichrist! The biblical response to such people is not to condemn them or write them off. It is, as demonstrated by Nathan and by Paul, to call the backslider to repentance, which may involve what Paul calls being “handed over to Satan”.

At least in the case of King David this process actually led to repentance. So this can happen. My pastor told a story of how he was visited by a pastor who had been suspended from ministry for an adulterous relationship, together with his lady friend, also a Christian. They maintained to my pastor that their relationship felt so right that it must be good and holy. He asked them if they prayed together. They, with some embarrassment, said “no”, exposing to themselves that they still felt shame about their relationship. He suggested they should pray together. Shortly afterwards they realised that their relationship was wrong and repented, and the man was eventually restored to ministry.

So this restoration can happen. Let’s continue to pray that it happens with Todd Bentley, and quickly. As for Barack Obama, we can pray that his eyes will be opened to more of the truth of the gospel, and of course, in line with the verses immediately following the ones about Hymenaeus and Alexander, that he will turn out to be a good President who will make it possible for his nation and the world to “live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness”.

Why my theology is messy

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Ben Byerly writes a perceptive post (thanks to Eddie Arthur for the link) about what messes up “good” theology. Ben writes, and Eddie quotes

Two things throw a monkey wrench in “good theology”

1. Reading the whole Bible carefully in light its original historical, social, and cultural contexts.

2. Trying to translate and to apply the Good News of Jesus in a totally different language and cultural way of thinking.

The first helps us come to grips with the fact that God has always revealed himself in ways that speak relevantly to a specific language and cultural way of thinking; God is contextual. The second helps us come to grips with how culturally bound our own ways of thinking about God are – even when we think we are being faithful to the Scriptures.

As Eddie suggests, this explains why Bible translators like him and me don’t have theologies which fit into anyone’s neatly defined system. Indeed, while I can’t speak for Eddie, this is why my own theology is, if not messed up, at least a bit messy. This is also I think why I struggle so much with the position of people like Adrian Warnock who seem so certain that their position is absolutely correct.

Do read the whole of Ben’s post, including the part he quotes from Ben Witherington.

Atonement: the Warnock wars

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I am keeping up my resolution not to read Adrian Warnock’s blog. But that doesn’t stop me reading about his latest offerings at his unrelated namesake Dave’s blog. And what I read there doesn’t encourage me to start reading Adrian’s again. It seems that these two have restarted what Adrian has called the “Warnock wars”, and on most issues here I am firmly on Dave’s side.

In his latest series Adrian, as reported by Dave, returns to the issue of the atonement, and Steve Chalke’s view of it. The first of Dave’s new series of posts ends with:

Well thank-you very much Adrian, I am sure we are all grateful for your attempts to break up reconciliation between evangelical Christians.

Make sure you read several other posts and comments before moving on to Dave’s latest post, which ends as follows:

Near the start of his post Adrian writes:

One of my major concerns about this whole debate is what a rejection of PSA does to our view of the Bible.

Absolutely it challenges a simplisitic partial reading of Scripture in favour of a thorough and respectful dialogue with the whole of Scripture – a truely evangelical approach to scripture. What a wonderful idea that is, fopr me the wonder of opening up models of atonement and considering others besides Penal Substitution is that we find new ways of understanding God that are far more in tune with Jesus the Son of God as revealed in Scripture. Go on try it, I promise the view on this side of the fence is fantastic. What a wonderful loving God we serve!

Responding to biblical arguments for slavery, and for subordination of women

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The somewhat mysterious* C Miller of Mustard Seed Kingdom has written an interesting and provocative post (or perhaps it’s just the subject matter which is provocative) summarising what Kevin Giles has written about the biblical argument for slavery, as put forward by many 19th century evangelicals, and how we should respond to it.

To summarise even more briefly, Giles wonders whether the evangelicals who supported slavery “were mistaken in their interpretation of the Scriptures”, or “were right”, or

were basically correct in their exegesis of the passages to which they referred but wrong in their doctrine of the Bible, in viewing it as a timeless set of oracles without historical conditioning.

If we presuppose that they were not right in supporting slavery, we have to conclude that either their exegesis was wrong or their doctrine of the Bible was. Giles writes about them:

These men appeared to the Bible as if it were a set of timeless oracles or propositions not recognising that in fact it reflected the culture of its authors and their presuppositions at least to some degree…failed to note that on most issues addressed by the Bible various answers are given to complex questions.

And he goes on to draw the lessons from this for the biblical argument for the subordination of women:

The biblical case for slavery is the counterpart of the case for the subordination of women, the only difference being that the case for slavery has far more weighty biblical support. …the internal biblical critique of slavery is less profound than that against the subordination of women.

And he concludes by suggesting that within a century the biblical argument for subordination of women will be rejected just as clearly as today the argument for slavery is rejected.

Any reactions?

* Actually I have discovered that she is called Clare and lives in or near Durham, for which her blog header photo is in fact a dead giveaway for those who can recognise a cathedral. And I think I have even found her brief resume with a picture. So much for Internet privacy!

Rowan Williams, 9/11, and the women in his life

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The Times has published today an article about and a moving extract from a new biography of Archbishop Rowan Williams. The largest part of the article recalls Williams’ experiences on 11th and 12th September 2001, when he was an eyewitness to the attacks on the World Trade Center, and the next day preached without preparation in the nearby cathedral.

Ruth Gledhill posts only a small part of the article and of the extract, with the interesting title Rowan Williams: ‘Haunted by Suicide’. This title refers to one of the three women in Rowan’s life, a woman with whom he seems to have had a relationship which might have been described as inappropriate although not apparently physical (yes, Jay, such relationships can exist!) shortly before she committed suicide. The second woman was a German Lutheran ordinand to whom he was engaged for a time. And the third woman is Jane Paul who became his wife.

I knew Jane slightly when we were undergraduates in the same year at Clare College, Cambridge. Rowan’s biographer writes that

she had held fast to her evangelical roots, and was active in the Christian Union at her college. … She came from a tradition where speaking in tongues was relatively common …

But during her undergraduate years she was rather on the fringe of this Christian Union, in which I was an active member. She was I think more involved in the college chapel, under Arthur Peacocke and Charlie Moule. Maybe she became more active in the CU as a graduate student, after I left in 1978, and when perhaps speaking in tongues would have been more acceptable in that group which was very conservative in my time. Ironically it is only after I left Cambridge that I too started to speak in tongues. But I can’t help wondering if the prayers of more charismatic fellow students like Jane Paul were partly involved in the softening of my heart towards the gifts of the Holy Spirit and my eventual acceptance of them.

To remember should be to work for peace

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I want to start this post by expressing my admiration for the courage of those who have given their lives in military action in “defence” (which at least in the case of US and UK forces in Iraq and Afghanistan means “attack”) of their countries. And I have great sympathy for those who have lost loved ones. I also feel a great sadness that most of their lives have been given in vain, or at best in partly successful attempts to undo the damaging results of previous wars pursued by their own countries.

But I do object to the way in which remembrance of war heroes has been brought into churches. Yesterday almost every church in my country would have included in its morning service an act of remembrance. Now I suppose it is good in church to remember those who have died, but what is the reason for specifically marking the deaths of those who have died in war? Is it not some kind of glorification of war? But any kind of glorification of war is totally contrary to the spirit of Jesus as portrayed in the New Testament. It is also contrary to the teaching of the early church, as demonstrated by Anglican priest Tim Chesterton in a series of posts over the last few days Christians and War: The Early Church Speaks #1 #2 #3 #4 #5. See also the Mennonite badge which Tim posts a picture of: To remember is to work for PEACE.

If military people wish to have their own parades to mark their fallen comrades, they are welcome to do so. But please can they do so well away from the churches, whose fundamental attitudes are, or should be, completely at odds with theirs. And please can churches stop pandering to the expectations of those in the world outside, and of those among their own numbers, who hold anti-Christian militaristic views and expect the church to hold ceremonies for them, and disrupt its own regular programmes to do so.

I am prepared to attend my own church on Remembrance Sunday only because we have a very low key act of remembrance, with no military symbols displayed. For the last few years I have quietly absented myself from the main hall for the act of remembrance. This year I was on duty at the back, so stayed in the building but remained seated, in a place where I could not be seen so I didn’t give offence.