N.T. Wright's Justification

My review of Justification: God’s Plan and Paul’s Vision
by N. T. Wright:

For too long we have read Scripture with 19th-century eyes and 16th-century questions. It’s time to get back to reading with first first-century eyes and 21st-century questions. So says, N. T. Wright in his introduction (p. 37).

Wright is convinced that we have been asking the Scriptures— particularly the Pauline corpus — some wrong questions and are thus stuck with some wrong answers. In many ways, Wright’s book is about getting the questions right which, among other things, means getting clear just what questions are being asked and answered in particular biblical passages. “Scripture”, he writes, “does not exist to give authoritative answers to questions other than those it addresses” (p. 40).

In particular, this book engages what he understands to be mistaken questions and answers from certain elements of the Reformed tradition. It is, in fact, an apologetical (and at times polemical) response to challenges to what he has written before coming from representatives of the Reformed tradition, most especially John Piper.

Wright argues that Piper and much of the tradition he represents have simply not paid careful enough attention to what Paul actually wrote, let alone the questions that lay behind what he wrote. Some key elements of Paul’s thinking that he thinks get short shrift are “Abraham and the promises God made to him, incorporation into Christ, resurrection and new creation, the coming together of Jews and Gentiles, eschatology in the sense of God’s purpose-driven plan through history, and, not least, the Holy Spirit and the formation of Christian character” (p. 31). They have missed these elements because they have supposed Paul to be answering the questions they have inherited from the Reformation, for instance: How does one find relief from the burden of guilt under the law and enter into God’s grace? Wright points out that there was no apparent sense in first-century Judaism that the Law was a burden, but rather it was understood to be a gift from God. Wright is convinced that Paul was addressing other questions, for instance: How do the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus fit into God’s continuing faithfulness to the promises he made to Abraham to bless all people and all creation through his seed?

Neglecting or marginalizing these ideas leads to a conception of justification that is too narrowly focused on the fate of the individual and which ones will go to heaven when they die. Is the whole of Christian truth all about me and my salvation? Wright sees this as the equivalent of supposing the sun goes round the earth (p.23). Or is it, as Wright argues, about the continuous narrative of God’s redemption of the whole of creation beginning with the promises to Abraham, through the election of Israel and the covenant, “reaching its climax in Jesus the Messiah and subsequently developing in fresh ways which God the creator, the Lord of history, had always intended” (p. 34)? If the latter, it is no longer all about personal salvation. There is still “saving grace accomplishing redemption in the once-for-all death of the Messiah,” and there is the formation of the Church as “the proleptic unity of all mankind in Christ as the sign of God’s coming reign over the whole world” (p. 44). For Wright, one cannot talk about justification without talking about transformation and mission.

Wright lays out his case for this understanding in the first half of the book, marked especially by this provocative question Wright asks, “Suppose we came to Ephesians first with Colossians close behind [and read] Romans and Galatians in light of them instead of the other way round?” (p. 43). In the second half of the book he offers a summary exegetical exploration of the Pauline letters. This latter half by itself is a wonderful resource.

As a response to critics, the book at times feels like listening in on one half of an argument. This might especially be the case for those unfamiliar with the Reformed side of the argument. But, that does not really get in the way of a fascinating and provocative exploration of some foundational questions about what Christians believe God is up to in the redeeming all of creation, including human beings.

God’s Love is Not Enough

A Sermon
Numbers 21:4-9, Psalm 107:1-3, 17-22,
Ephesians 2:1-10, John 3:14-21

"For God so loved the world . . ."

I saw a bumper sticker a while back that said, “God loves you. No exceptions.” I believe this is so. And I believe just accepting that can be life-changing (see here). It makes a huge difference to understand that, when God looks upon you, it is with eyes of love. I know there are some among us who have mental tapes recorded deeply in their minds telling them that they are not lovable. And I appreciate that the sentiment of the bumper sticker is addressing the reality that there are groups of people who have been made to feel that they are somehow the exception to God’s love. So it is important to remember that when Jesus said, “God so loved the world,” that does not leave anyone out. “God so loved the world” - no exceptions.

But, I also need to say that the bumper sticker is inadequate. Wonderful as it is, God’s love is not enough.

Just before the justly famous line in John 3:16, Jesus says, "Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.” What’s that about? Clearly, it is a reference to the passage from the book of Numbers that we heard read a moment ago:

From Mount Hor the Israelites set out by the way to the Red Sea, to go around the land of Edom; but the people became impatient on the way. The people spoke against God and against Moses, "Why have you brought us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness? For there is no food and no water, and we detest this miserable food." Then the LORD sent poisonous serpents among the people, and they bit the people, so that many Israelites died. The people came to Moses and said, "We have sinned by speaking against the LORD and against you; pray to the LORD to take away the serpents from us." So Moses prayed for the people. And the LORD said to Moses, "Make a poisonous serpent, and set it on a pole; and everyone who is bitten shall look at it and live." So Moses made a serpent of bronze, and put it upon a pole; and whenever a serpent bit someone, that person would look at the serpent of bronze and live. – Numbers 21:4-9

It’s a strange passage in lots of ways. But, let’s start by reviewing the context. Israel was enslaved in Egypt. They were miserable. God heard their cry, called Moses to lead them, and through a series of miracles delivered them from their bondage, setting them on the path to the Promised Land. Soon after they became impatient and ungrateful and began to complain about how God was managing their deliverance. We have here an example of that complaining.

"Why have you brought us up out of Egypt?”

“Well, because you asked me to. And because I love you and desire your good.”

“To die in the wilderness?”

“So far I have provided for you at every turn, haven’t I?”

“There is no food and no water.” That is an outright lie – or willful forgetting. God has miraculously provided water. God has rained down upon them the wonder of manna, "the grain of heaven", for their nourishment and quail as well.

“We detest this miserable food." Now we’re getting a little closer to the truth. It’s not that they have no food, but that they are dissatisfied with the food God has provided. And so they declare their displeasure. I wonder if the serpents are not an outward and visible manifestation of the inward and spiritual impatience and ingratitude. But, God provides a means of healing through the bronze serpent attached to a pole for the people to look upon and be healed.

That is the story in Numbers. But, since Jesus suggests that we read this story metaphorically as a type or analogy of what he accomplishes on the cross, what might it be saying about us and about the Son of Man?

First of all, we can say that the attitude of the Hebrews in the wilderness is, as usual, representative of the attitude of each of us. Are we not impatient with God and one another? An early church theologian, Ephrem the Syrian, suggested that impatience might be the sin that started it all. He wrote that God all along intended us to have a share in his divinity. But, Adam and Eve, at the suggestion of the serpent, were impatient with God’s timing and seized the fruit the serpent promised would make them like God.

Are we not often ungrateful? Discontent with enough and more than enough? Are we not inclined to believe we are our own and what we own is ours alone? But, in a little while we will repeat these words that should always be on our hearts, “All things come of thee O Lord. And of Thine own have we given Thee.” All things. All that I am and all that I have, moment by moment, I receive from God – whether I receive it gratefully or not. All creation and every person I encounter is the gift of God to be received with gratitude. But much of the time I turn my heart from God and from most others. I detest this miserable food.

Like Adam and Eve we listen to the serpent in our impatience with God and the way our lives and others are unfolding and our ingratitude for all God has given us. And as with Israel, that turning of our hearts gives birth to the serpents of sin in our hearts, the poisonous serpents of our own impatience and ingratitude, our own envy and enmity. The serpents of our own hearts bite us and bite those around us. What’s more, we become addicted to the poison. Like an alcoholic, we are addicted to the very thing that causes us to perish. This might sound harsh, but that is because we take too lightly our own failure to attend to God and to one another, our failure to love, our lack of true generosity and hospitality. And when we turn our hearts from God, our hearts begin to breed the serpents of sin. And we perish.

And here’s the thing. We are beset by the serpents of our own making. And worse, we are addicted to the poison of our own serpents. Like alcoholics we are unable to help ourselves. That is why hearing that God loves us with no exceptions isn’t enough. If I am trapped at the bottom of a pit full of rattle snakes, having someone shout from the top, “I love you,” isn’t all I need. Even if that one jumps into the pit with me to tell me how much I am loved, that only does me so much good. No, I need someone who can extract the poison. I need an antidote. I need someone who will come into my heart and drive out the serpents like Patrick drove the snakes out of Ireland. We need God to “take away the serpents from us.”

And, my friends, as William Temple wrote,

This is the heart of the Gospel, not, ‘God is Love’ – a precious truth, but affirming no divine act for our redemption. God so loved that he gave; of course the words indicate the cost to the Father’s heart. He gave; it was an act, not only a continuing mood of generosity, it was an act at a particular time and place. - Readings in John's Gospel

"Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so was the Son of Man lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.” God has provided the means of our redemption, our deliverance, our healing, and our restoration. God does not love us and leave us as we are, beset by the serpents of our hearts. He has acted on our behalf to drive out the snakes and heal us of their venom. Crux Est Mundi Medicina – the cross is the medicine of the world. “God, who is rich in mercy, out of the great love with which he loved us even when we were dead through our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ”(Ephesians 2:4).

God loves you. No exceptions. But the really good news is, "God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.”

You need only turn your heart to him and in trusting belief receive the gift of God.

Where is Your Precious? (on Judgement & Hell)

I planned to post the following (adapted from an old sermon) sometime during Lent well before I heard of Rob Bell's new book, Love Wins and the attendant controversy about it. I haven't read the book so this is not a response, but it does apparently touch on some of the same themes.

Where is Your Precious?

Smeagol was a hobbit. A hobbit is an imaginary creature invented by J. R. R. Tolkien who wrote the “Lord of the Rings”. Short, human-like creatures with hairy feet, hobbits have been described as a cross between a rabbit and an English country gentleman. One day, Smeagol and a friend were fishing in a river. His friend fell into the water and swam or sank to the bottom of the river where he saw a ring, a bright and shiny ring. The friend grabbed the ring, came back to the surface of the river and showed it to Smeagol. It happened to be Smeagol’s birthday and he asked his friend, or rather demanded of his friend, the ring as a birthday present. The friend refused for he had already given Smeagol his birthday present. Smeagol strangled his friend, took the ring and put it on his finger.

It was a magical ring. When he put it on he was invisible. But it was also a cursed ring and it began to warp Smeagol. It warped him so that he began to find the sun too hot and too bright. He took shelter in the caverns of a mountain. When we first meet him in the story he is no longer known as Smeagol, but has been warped into a strange creature called Gollum. Gollum, formerly Smeagol, lives on a small island in the middle of a lake at the dark center of a mountain. There, he eats raw fish and speaks to his ring, which he calls, “My Precious”. Isolated from all other creatures, Gollum is alone. He is alone, that is, except for the ring - his "Precious".

I have wondered if maybe hell is like what happened to Smeagol. God, in His fierce mercy, gives us freedom - freedom to choose our “Precious,” whatever is our Precious - money, possessions, power, prestige, pleasure, etc. - to the bitter end. And beyond. What we choose for our Precious will either mold and shape us into something more beautiful and more human or it will warp us into something much less, like Gollum. That molding or warping continues beyond this life and God will allow us to continue to fall in on ourselves and our precious forever if we choose.

Scripture warns us that our choices have consequences and there will be judgement. In Hebrews 12:25 there is this stark warning. “How much less will we escape if we reject the one who warns us from heaven?” And, lest we think it’s just some peculiarity of the exhortation to the Hebrews, in the gospels, Jesus warns as well. In Luke 13, Jesus warns, “Strive to enter through the narrow door.” “There will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.” The warning of judgment, whether we like it or not, (and I don’t particularly like it) is a part of Jesus’ message. And it shows up repeatedly and in each gospel. It is a mistake to try to make Jesus less offensive by denying that judgment is part of his message. The Jesus of the gospels warns of judgment. We ought not to ignore it or wish it away.

It is also a mistake, however, to take the images of hell too literally. Christians throughout history have managed to understand that the images of heaven in the Bible are metaphorical. Very few Christians die believing that when they awake they will pass through literal pearly gates and walk literal streets of gold and live in literal mansions with a cubicle for each of us. We understand that those images are metaphors pointing to something greater than we can imagine. But somehow Christians have not been able, usually, to see same metaphorical interpretation of hell. We always seem to take the pictures of hell quite literally - a literal lake of fire in which people burn in agony forever and ever if they choose wrongly. We are familiar with those images. Paintings and graphic descriptions have impressed them on our imaginations. The warning is to be taken seriously, but let’s not mistake metaphorical imagery for literal description. If the images of heaven are metaphorical, then so are the images of hell.

A bit of an aside: Such images of hell are not unique to Christianity. Those who say that we should ignore the differences between religions and just get down to that which they all have in common always intrigue me. They ignore the problem that one thing nearly every religion has in common is hell. There are Buddhist paintings of hell that are every bit as graphic and discomforting as anything described by Dante or depicted by Hieronymus Bosch. Such images of hell make God out to be a cosmic torturer.

It is also a mistake to morbidly dwell on hell. In spite of the impression some have given, hell is not the main point of Christianity. Too often the threat of hell has been used to scare people in order to control them. The primary reason for Jesus’ coming was not to scare the hell out of us. The primary reason for Jesus’ coming was to prepare a way or us and to point us towards the kingdom of God. As Charles Williams wrote, "The order of purging is according to the seven deadly sins of the formal tradition of the Church. The Church is not a way for the soul to escape hell but to become heaven; it is virtues rather than sins which we must remember." (The Figure of Beatrice, p. 157)

Still, we should not be complacent about the warning of judgment that we have in scripture. It is a warning that comes from Jesus. It would be a mistake to assume that God is just such a nice guy that he could never really judge us severely. Or that he merely says, “All-y, all-y, in come free!” While it is possible to make too much of hell, it is also possible to make too little. The judgment is real. There is no room for complacency.

Jesus is instructive. Asked a theoretical question in Luke 13 about how many will be saved, Jesus, as is his wont, refused to get into the theoretical or speculative. Instead, Jesus’ answer to the question makes it personal. “Don’t worry about how few or how many make it to heaven. If it ends up that only a few get in, that is God’s business. If it turns out that God, in his incredible grace and mercy, makes a way for all to enter, that also is God’s business.” Jesus says, “You strive to enter through the narrow door.” He makes it personal. Don’t worry about the particulars of what it’s like. Don’t worry about who else is in or out. You strive to enter the narrow door. Choose today who is your Precious. Our choices matter in the short run and in the long run. We can choose wrongly. We can choose that which will warp us. It does matter how we live. It is not a matter of indifference whether we live lives of self-giving love or lives of self-absorption. We can choose our Precious, and in the end God may just allow us to live with whatever has been truly precious to ourselves - eternally. Our choice of what (or who) is our Precious will either mold us or warp us. That molding or warping begins now and continues eternally.

The Christian conviction is that Jesus also matters. Jesus did not come to scare the hell out of us; instead he came to show us what is eternally Precious. Indeed, he came to be our Precious. Our problem is, among other things, that we, in our sinfulness and our ignorance, find it difficult to recognize or receive what is truly Precious. There are many things vying to be our Precious. Jesus comes to break into our willfulness and ignorance and say; “I am your Precious. I am the way to all that is precious.”

But more than just showing us what our Precious is, Jesus frees us to pursue it. Our problem is more profound than just ignorance. We are born addicted, like crack babies, to things that are not our true Precious. Jesus Christ, on the cross and in his resurrection, breaks the bondage of that addiction, frees us to choose our true Precious - to choose him. Jesus is our Precious.

Being a hopeful universalist*, I still hope that (back to the analogy) maybe even Gollum, isolated and alone on the island at the dark and lonely center of the mountain, is not completely abandoned. Perhaps Jesus is still sitting beside him saying, “Smeagol, come back. Repent.” Maybe that’s what it means when we claim Jesus descended into hell. I hope that Dante was wrong when he wrote that over the gates of hell it reads, “Abandon all hope you who enter here.” I wonder if the God we know in Jesus Christ ever completely abandons hope. Is it possible that not even hell is God-forsaken?

The warning is real. The promise is also real. Our hope is real. In Hebrews we read that we have received a kingdom that cannot be shaken and therefore we do not need to be morbidly fearful of hell. We can give thanks. But in reverence and in awe, because we remember that our God is a consuming fire. Our choices matter. Jesus comes to us day by day, comes to us today, and says, “Choose today to enter in through the narrow door. Choose today who is your Precious.”
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* "Hopeful universalist" is a term I learned from my seminary professor, Charlie Price. It is distinct from what might be called a “simple” or “complacent” universalism. Holding that no one can ultimately end in hell is as presumptuous as presuming to know exactly who ends there. It presumes on God’s freedom to judge. It also denies the glory and awfulness of human freedom. A hopeful universalist, on the other hand, while acknowledging God’s judgement, hopes that, in his relentless love, as demonstrated in Jesus, God never completely abandons the objects of that love. Hopeful universalists in the church’s history would include Clement of Alexandria and Gregory of Nyssa among the early theologians. More recent examples are C. S. Lewis, Karl Barth, and Hans Urs Von Balthasar.

Scripture support for such a view might include passages such as Psalm 139:7-8, I Corinthians 3:11-15 & 15:22-28, Colossians 1:20, 1 Timothy 2:4, 1 Peter 3:19, 2 Peter 3:9. While these “hopeful” verses point to the wideness of God’s mercy, they do not allow for complacency.