Tough Questions

A few months ago a man named Rob Bell released a book that has stirred up quite a storm in the church. This book raised a number of important questions about the Christian view of Hell, and really hit a nerve with the church on the question of the character of God. Questions like, why would God condemn people to hell for eternity? For that matter, why did God command some of the things he commanded in the Bible? Why do very morally upright people not have a better chance at knowing God?


These questions are punctuated by even more questions, such as why do Christians today spend more time excluding people based on their different views of Jesus, why is pronouncing judgment such a popular theme, why do Christians seem more interested in getting into heaven than anything else happening today? And I’m not even going to get into those Christians who cannot separate their politics from their faith….

These questions aren’t unique to Rob Bell. Whatever we may think of it, the reality is our culture today has a certain view of morality that cannot mesh with a surface understanding of the biblical portrayal of God. I’m not just talking about things like genocide in the Old Testament, I mean the fact that a loving God might condemn the majority of humanity to eternal torment simply for not responding favorably to something they might not even have heard of. The category of “loving and moral God” makes sense, but “loving and judging” God is a flat contradiction.

On the one side you have a group that cannot reconcile the presentation of the character of God with their most basic sense of morality, and other is bewildered why the questions are even being asked. One side feels disenfranchised, frustrated, confused, and cries out for better answers, while the other confidently lists their theological points, but effectively is a “resounding gong”. The latter doesn’t want to legitimize the questions, and the other can’t move past the questions. Worse than that, you have many “big names” in the church that seem more eager to label those asking the questions as heretics and move on as if the problem is solved. These are tough questions for a reason: they reflect deep misgivings about the picture of God that we see in the Bible. These misgivings are to the point that I think some (maybe many?) are unable to have biblical trust and faith in a God like that.

So the question is how can we arrive at the answers to these questions? I don’t think we can just dismiss the questions as immature and move on, nor can we give the traditional answers to questions about hell or the problem of evil. While these certainly are true, they aren’t connecting in a meaningful way with many in a way that offers some resolution to these challenging questions. The problem is there are so many differences between this world view and these questions being asked that this list of answers falls very short. Further, these answers come across more as a defense of an immoral God and do very little to really get at the heart of the problem. Arguing from the debt of sin, appealing to “mystery” or God’s transcendence all fall flat. I don’t think those answers are ever meant to depict God as a capricious, arbitrary moral monster, yet because of this radical disconnect they end up having quite the opposite effect of what was intended. Many inside and outside of the faith are turned off because it seems foolish (if not sociopathic) to devote one’s life to a God that defies all of our notions of morality. So answers just end up coming across as cop-outs, and I don’t believe really help people move closer to the Gospel.

I think we really are at a crisis where the church has got to do a better job of contextualizing the Gospel. I don’t just mean contextualize to those outside the faith but even to those inside as well. On the one hand, we will never escape the “offense” of the Gospel (that path is fraught with peril). But on the other, failing to rightly contextualize the Gospel is just adding offense. The worldviews are so different today that I think it’s very easy to forget the urgency of good contextualization. That word normally is used of in extreme cross-cultural interactions (such as bringing the Gospel to some unreached tribe in Africa), but I think the same need exists in American churches today. In failing to lovingly communicate the truth of the Gospel in the context of the Gospel, we’ve portrayed the Gospel as something altogether different than it really is. The fact that some perceive the Gospel as “fire insurance” or “a few lucky people make it in” reveals significant misunderstanding and confusion. Some seem to believe the Gospel is just a set of theological beliefs and/or a moral code, or just heaven. As a good friend of mine likes to say, it certainly is no less than these, but it’s certainly much more! It’s an invitation to a life of devotion to God, a life of transformation, having real life, joy, hope, and being a part of his world and his way. The Gospel is supposed to be good news, but in today’s discussion it’s quite the opposite. Topics like hell take on a very different flavor when we start with this picture of the Gospel. Questions like “why would God send some people to hell” become “why would some people reject all that God has to offer?” I don’t mean to over simplify the issue, I know there is so much more to these questions than this answer alone gives, but I think this is the sort of biblical starting place we must have.

So contextualization has to start with understanding what the Gospel meant. This isn’t easy work, and to honestly engage these questions we have to be willing to reevaluate anything based on where the text leads us. How can we bring the good news to today if we don’t even understand what the good news was, or we’re spending more time clinging to our notion of the good news? When we start with what Scripture said in its context we let the Gospel retain its biblical flavor, and ultimately its truth retains its real power. When we approach questions such as genocide in the OT in their historical context, we see the text not portraying an evil genocidal God, but a Holy God and ultimately a moral and gracious God. But if we divorce the events from the text, it’s very easy to lose this focus. It’s really unfair to the text, because we say “this happened, how could God ever do such a thing” without letting the text give its answer. This also means that if we are to retain the Gospel’s flavor in its context, we have to take care in what we emphasize. If we find ourselves preaching more about hell and judgment than the offer of salvation and life I think we’ve already lost the discussion.

But taking these tough questions and arriving at a clearly understanding of what Scripture teaches isn’t enough. Contextualization means taking this truth and bridging it to our culture. In some ways I think this is even harder, because it doesn’t just mean we pick up a book and study, but it means we’re actively engaged with the world around us. We’re reading the same books others are reading, we’re watching the same media they are watching, we’re engaged in the same discussions, actively listening to their points of view and not jumping down their throats to rip apart their argument (as tempting as it might be!) It’s not just connection but it's a deep level of discernment, humility, love, and grace that actively pursues a better understanding of where people are at. We can’t really speak the truth of the Gospel into a world and culture we know very little about, or people who we have very little connection with. We have to really understand what’s going on. If our answer to the question of hell is a list of theological conclusions alongside a few Bible verses, we’ve failed to connect this to people’s lives. We’ve failed to discern why these questions are being asked, we’ve failed to bridge the world views at play. This is why the status quo doesn’t work.

Perhaps some just aren’t interested in the answers Christianity really has to offer, and that is their right as creatures with free will, (although it’s no less a tragedy). My fear is that many with faith, many with open hearts to God, are having massive stumbling blocks dropped in their path. They have real and important questions, and the answers they are being given isn’t helping their faith grow. Being fed the tradition or theology isn’t enough and they either remain stuck in crisis or apathy and agnosticism. Maybe they just don't like the language of the answers, but I think for many they don't even understand why the answers are answers. They don't have a solid Christian world view, they don't have much of an understanding of the real substance of biblical truth, and so their walk is significantly hindered if not brought to a grinding halt. Some even tragically walk away.

The answer never can be anything other than the Gospel. God saves people, God’s truth, God’s way, by God’s power. But this is so much more than just a set of theological statements, so much more than a moral code, and so much more than mere traditions. The reality, the beauty, and the surpassing greatness of God’s good news, rightly connected to people’s lives, is truly transforming and is truly good news that brings salvation. The tough questions are worth engaging, even if they challenge some of our deepest beliefs. After all, if God’s truth is what we believe it is, then it’s certainly up to the task. So we do need better answers, even if they aren’t different answers. We do need a better presentation of God’s character, a fuller understanding of what the Bible teaches, and a clearer Christian framework for discussing these tough questions and working through the answers exegetically, theologically, philosophically, emotionally, and spiritually. We need to contextualize the true good news that the Gospel represents. Our world needs this good news, our people want it, and our mission demands it.
Read more...

Reflections on death

For the last several months, I've spent some time reflecting on the reality of death. I suppose this is part of the "growing up" thing, but it has been a humbling and sometimes terrifying process. For more of my life I've believed a few basic things about death: that death isn't the end (we have eternal souls), that after death we spend eternity with God or without God, and depending on this outcome, life after death can be far better of an experience.

I haven't really been challenging these beliefs, but for a number of reasons my reflection on death has been more to understand how other's think of death: especially those who don't believe in the soul.


This has been hard because it requires "setting aside" my reasons for believing what I believe, but it has been a rewarding "exercise". It's interesting how often we experience death. Obviously death is a constant in the universe, all of us have friends or family that either have died or will die. More than that, death is something we read about daily, watch on the news or the latest prime time show, and one is hard pressed to find video games that don't include death in some fashion. The tragedy and pain of death is too potent to escape (maybe there are some powerful drugs to do that?). It's rather disappointing that we consume death in so many forms that we can be a bit numb to it's reality. Maybe this is part of why when it happens to someone we are close to, it blind sides us and brings our world to a crashing halt. Or maybe we like to consume it because it's easier to consume the fiction of death rather than the reality.

Over the last few months, I've had a few moments of near terror when I was able to wrap my mind around the notion of death without an afterlife. It seems rather foolish, but to imagine the entire cessation of one's existence is impossible to comprehend (obviously because comprehending usually involves some relationship to myself, and so comprehending not-me is rather contradictory). It's very empty to think of everyone else having their stories continue and mine not only stopping, but my awareness of their stories ceasing as well. The end of life being a hard termination really provides little to live for. I suppose for such a person all that is really life is one's legacy and children. Some might add "live life to the fullest", but no one experience really lasts so this seems rather pointless.

Really, this perspective seems like such a hopeless cycle: my purpose in life is to provide the best for my children, so they can provide the best for their children, and so on. This really sounds like evolutionary naturalism at it's cruelest: the purpose for life is to continue life. This seems a rather poor purpose. Certainly we could do better, right? Notions such as beauty, joy, creativity, friendship, hope, justice, charity, and love demand more, because otherwise they are just pale distractions instead of the spice of life that they rightly ought to be. More than this, parenting for legacy seems more destructive and self serving (thankfully this was not my experience!). It would be interesting to read an anthropological study on telos through history and culture. I suspect everyone has always sought one, and many have included the afterlife in the equation of life. It's hard to reduce this whole mess of humanity to just procreation, and it makes sense why despair is the result if this is our only purpose.

But as with all things, this is the point where I'm inevitably and rightly drawn back to the cross. I don't want to hold on to a child's dream of an afterlife just because the reality of death is too dark or terrifying to hold on to, I'd rather live in that despair than buy into a lie. But as I've been reflecting, I cannot help but be reminded of all of the reasons for why I believe in God. I cannot watch a sunset, listen to a beautiful song, or see a beautiful vista without praising God. I cannot escape the order and harmony in a universe, the rational structure that our mind's desire, nor the reality that the statement "I exist" must be more than the computation of a complex biological computer. (At this point I want to read more, the notion of consciousness as nothing more than neurons and brain chemistry seems like very poor philosophy). I am drawn to the long list of reasons that I think most rationally argue that God exists, the Bible reliably and faithfully reveals him, and Jesus was who he said he was. Like a child rescued from a well, I've felt the despair melt and hope return as the light returns. What began as an intellectual "game" actually took me to a bit of a dark place, but the truth of Jesus rescued me once again from the darkness.

Death is still a tragic loss, but in Christ it is not the end. This life is just the beginning of our story. I do reject the notion that we are souls "driving" bodies, I believe the two are profoundly intertwined and connected than we always realize, (e.g. Phil 3:20-21; 1 Cor 15:36-38), so this life isn't just a waiting room. I think this is part of the genuine real joy and hope that Christians have: today we not only have a connection with our creator and high priest, but we have a deeper connection with one another and a real purpose to life: to know God, to experience real fellowship in community, and to love other's with God's love.

I have to be honest, I still have doubt, but honestly I doubt just about everything to some degree. Certainty doesn't mean 0% doubt though, certainty means reasonable confidence, and I feel reasonably certain about my current stance. I still have a lot of processing to do on the notion of my own mortality, I'm guessing that's something that will never change. But over the last few months, I've at least found confidence and hope in this process. I think this is an intellectually satisfying conclusion, but more than that, it is an emotionally satisfying perspective. It's nice when things are a double win like that!

Read more...

What is God’s love like?

Romans 8:38-39 For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, or things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

This is an amazing pair of verses at the end of Romans 8. But what exactly does this pair of verses say about God’s love?


I get rather confused whenever I hear these verses used to describe a love that cannot be resisted. A love that is so compelling that “nothing I do can separate me from God”. On the one hand, this phrase might only mean something like “no matter what I do, God will still love me”. To this I can absolutely agree, so long as we agree that God loves everyone. God doesn't love the lost any less, so while that truth might give us comfort at times, it really doesn't say anything about our relationship with God. But instead, I think this phrase often betrays something else, something more like “no matter what I do, there aren’t consequences to my relationship with God”. This often is backed up with an appeal to God’s love being unconditional. I believe this interpretation reflects a diminished view of God’s love.

To this I think we have to first look at the story of Israel wandering in the desert. God made a covenant with Israel that he would be there God, he would rescue them from Egypt and make them into a nation. But right after being saved from Egypt, Israel began to quickly rebel and reject God. Paul argues in 1 Corinthians 10:1-11 that many in Israel missed out on the benefits of a covenant relationship with God because of their rejection of God’s love and persistence in rebellion. Hebrews 3:7-19 expresses the same warning: because of their consistent disobedience, rebellion, and unbelief, they failed to enter the Promised Land. Was God any less loving to these individuals? Clearly that is not the case. But it also reveals that there are consequences in God’s love. God’s love isn’t a compelling love that we cannot
reject. If we take what Luke 14 (or even John 3:16) says about the extent of God's love seriously (everyone, even sinners), then people reject God’s love all of the time! If God's love truly is for all people, then it cannot be irresistible because people all over the world don't know God's love (these two truths are incompatible). I
would argue that Scripture regularly shows God sovereingly allowing for his creation to freely reject him.

So God's love can be resisted. But the real question that the above attitude raises is about relationship: for those who know God, does God's love hold them so that we cannot reject it? The story of Israel says a lot about this, but I believe even some of our basic notions of human relationships can begin to answer this. I cautiously submit an analogy from marriage: I've been married for 6 years now, and I know
that I fail my wife regularly, yet she still loves me. But let's say I decided to move out, regularly call her tell her I hate her, and I started dating another woman. It would be foolish not to think that our relationship would undergo significant change. She might still love me, but our relationship would be severed. It would be a rather odd notion to expect that if one day I decided “never mind, I do love you” that things would be instantly restored.

My point is that the whole notion of any kind of relationship assumes some degree of mutuality. This gets very muddy when we talk about our relationship with God because it's a different type of relationship, and we do fail him very regularly. But there is an important distinction here: there is a difference between a relationship that is
temporarily broken and a relationship where one party no longer has interest in the relationship. The latter isn’t really a relationship at all. In other words, Christians daily battle ("struggle") temptation and sin, and might even have seasons of darkness. This is a very different quality of relationship though than an individual who not only is in sin and unrepentant, but has no desire whatsoever for
truly knowing God. Individual Jews in the desert seemed to fall in the later category. Because of their actions, their relationship with God was severed enough that they missed out on the experience and blessings of this relationship.

This distinction is further important because it really gets at the heart of what loving God looks like. God doesn’t want us to love him just with an emotion, a set of accomplishments, or a religion (acting a certain way, obeying certain rules, following certain traditions, or practicing certain ceremonies). More than that, God doesn't want us to love him as a means to an end (whether it be eternal life or the promised land). Like the prodigal son in Luke 15, all that God wants is for us to turn to him in repentance. The Bible makes clear that for us to love God means continuing to remain in Christ (John 15:9-10), it means living by faith (e.g. Gal. 5:6), it means in repentance (the primary imperative of Jesus' ministry). I think it is important to
remember that this condition of experiencing God’s love isn’t entirely on our shoulders (Eph. 2:8 teaches that the work of salvation is God’s), and Jesus is always there willing to help us through the difficult times (e.g. 1 Cor. 10:13). Further, there is real security when we remain in Christ (John 10:28). But God’s sustaining power and the security we have in Christ are never emphasized at the expense of our need to continually remain in him (John 15).

And this is really where I see the heart of God’s love: he desires to redeem the lost and restore people to relationship with him, but he also desires that people continue to choose him and continue in repentance and faith. God always accepts the repenting sinner, and his love, mercy, and grace are inexhaustible. God lovingly (and sovereignly) respects his creation’s free will. God loves us unconditionally and more profoundly than we ever could know, yet he does want a loving response of faith and repentance. Some refer to this with the metaphor of a journey: salvation isn’t just a past tense event, but rather something that in Christ and the power of the Spirit we are moving towards. In Galatians Paul argues that when we try to accomplish anything more than faith we really are surrender to slavery. It’s like a train getting derailed; it’s no longer on the path towards its destination. He uses very harsh language for this person, describing them as severed from Christ (Gal. 5:4). Instead,
he contrasts this effort with being led by the Spirit (Gal. 5:18), and argued that we are alive in Christ because of the Spirit, and as a result we should allow him to continue to lead us (Gal. 5:22). While this may be through the narrow gate (Matt. 7:13-14), it is the way to salvation and it is the way to knowing God’s love. This last point is rather controversial within the church, but I believe the New Testament is very clear that failing to remain in Christ, failing to trust him and live in repentance means the hardening of one's heart. It's a form of rebellion, and there is at least the possibility that persisting in rebellion and unrepentance eventually can lead to a severed relationship with God (e.g. Heb. 3:12-14; Heb. 6:4-6; Heb. 10:26-27; John 15:6; Gal. 5:3-4; Luke 8:11-13; 1 Tim. 4:1; etc.). Some may say these are only hypothetical warnings, but at the very least I think we cannot escape the reality that these are real warnings addressed to Christians to encourage continued faith.

This continual faith and continual repentance is necessary because so much of our circumstances challenge this attitude. We are neck deep in a world with values opposite of God’s, a world that wants to make the case that God’s way isn’t the best way. Many Christians face ridicule, pressure, or even persecution for this love. More than that, we experience the allure of sin, many of us have sinful habits and desires, and above all everyone has an insatiable pride that likes to substitute ourselves for God. This is why the only two options are rebellion or repentance: it’s either we align with God’s way or try to make another. God’s love is always available to those who repent, but repentance is necessary for relationship.

This is why Paul says what he says in Romans 8: in Christ we are children of God, we are free from sin, we are alive and led by the Spirit, and we know the love of God. Our present circumstances pale when compared to the joy of knowing God, and we know that God is victorious, even when victory is a word not even mentioned in the story of our lives. But no matter how much the forces around us might try to push a wedge between us and God, no matter how often failure challenges hope, God’s love us is always bigger. I think it's missing the beauty of Paul's hope here to make Romans 8:38-39 about our inability to resist God's love, especially when Scripture speaks so clearly to the contrary. Paul's point is the surpassing power of God's love, that no matter the circumstance his love can prevail. No power is able to overcome it, and as long as we are abiding in him, nothing, absolutely nothing, can separate us from God’s love.

Read more...

Resurrection: who dun it?

Today Christians worldwide celebrate the awesome truth and reality of Jesus' resurrection. This is the cornerstone of the Christian faith, and an equally powerful counterpoint to the cross. Paul is absolutely right: without the empty tomb, the Christian faith is in vain. Jesus resurrection has great theological significance: just as the cross dealt with sin, the resurrection brings life, hope, peace, and joy. Further, the resurrection is the capstone to Jesus' earthly ministry: it proves he wasn't a lie, it proves he was who he claimed to be: Messiah, the eternal Word of God, the Son of God.

But there's been one question that's been nagging at me for awhile: who is responsible for it?



Sunday school answers are appropriate here: God. Obviously so. But some argue more specifically: Jesus is responsible for it. This is a bit troubling, because by and large the New Testament places emphasis on the Father as the agent of the resurrection. Paul consistently teaches this, it's all throughout Acts, and shows up in Hebrews and 1 Peter.

For example, Paul consistently and regularly makes the Father the agent of the resurrection, (Rom. 4:24; 6:4; 10:9; 1 Cor. 6:14; 15:12-20; 2 Cor. 4:14; Gal. 1:1; Eph. 1:20; 2:5-6; Col. 2:12; 1 Thess. 1:10), Acts repeatedly names the Father (Acts 2:24; 2:32; 3:15; 4:10; 5:30; 10:40; 13:30; 13:33-34; 13:37; 17:31), and Hebrews and 1 Peter also echo this idea (Heb. 13:20; 1 Pet. 1:21).

Further, there are a number of passages where Jesus is “raised” without an agent mentioned, and most biblical commentators refer to these as “divine passives”, i.e. a passive verb where it is implied God is the agent. These are mostly in the Gospels before the resurrection. Some examples of this: Matt. 16:21; 17:9; 17:23; 20:19; 26:32; Mark 14:28; Luke 9:22; John 2:22; 21:14; Rom 6:9-10; 7:4; 8:34; 1 Cor. 15:4; 2 Cor. 5:15


This idea of Jesus raising himself is largely rooted in John 2:19: "Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up."

This might mean that Jesus was saying he himself by his own divinity would raise himself (that certainly is the more clear meaning from the words), but John explains Jesus’ statement in John 2:22 by using a divine passive: the disciples understood what Jesus was saying after “He was raised from the dead”. Further, given the overall context of John (that Jesus was living in submission to the Father’s will, John emphasizes this far more than the synoptics), I think Jesus’ point was more inclusive: he was going to be raised because he was doing the work of the Father and the resurrection was a part of God’s will.

His resurrection, just like his life, was in accordance with the Father’s will, and just as the Father on several occasions declared audibly to those around Jesus of this association, the resurrection is the ultimate vindication by the Father. There are parallels here with how the OT prophets functioned: they were commissioned by God, and on earth were representatives for God with such a unique and close association that their actions were considered the work of the Father. John 10:17-18 carries the same idea: we could say Jesus is saying he himself lays down his life and will take it again, but John explains that this isn’t a matter of agency but authority: the Father gives him the authority, and Jesus acts in accordance with the Father’s will.


Theologically this is important for a number of reasons:

1) Jesus’ identity or divinity wasn’t proven by his agency in the resurrection, but rather Jesus’ connection and association with the Father. The Father raised Jesus as a sign that Jesus was bringing the message of the Father, Jesus was doing the work of the Father, and ultimately Jesus was bringing redemption that the Father willed.

2) As a part of this, Jesus entire earth ministry was an act of humility and submission to the Father’s will (Phil. 2:5-11). By and large this is because Jesus on earth serves as a model for what discipleship looks like: in many ways we are continuing his work in his footsteps, with his triumph and victory in life as a source of hope for what God can do in our lives (e.g. Heb. 14:14-16).

3) Further, Jesus, as our great high priest, is the only mediator between God and man. I think a big point that Paul hits on repeatedly is that in Christ we not only have direct relational access to God, but also because of the Father raising Jesus from the dead, in Christ we have access to that same resurrection and life (e.g. Rom 6:1-11)

4) Finally, although this view sounds like it diminishes the divinity of Jesus on earth, I think it's his humanity which is the main focus of Jesus' earthly ministry. Theological balance is found in the reality of his pre-incarnation divinity, and the combination of both in his glorification. I know some like to argue that the entire trinity was involved with the resurrection (the Spirit could be argued from Rom. 8:11, although this could also apply to the Father). This certainly is true, and we don't want to overemphasize the division of the persons of the Trinity. However, the fact that the Scripture's reflection on the resurrection makes a point to emphasize the Father's agency leads me to think we do the text a disservice to make it all about the unified Godhead. We diminish the distinctions amongst the persons of the Trinity and their distinctive roles, we loose the primacy of the Father's will and his action, and especially we de-emphasize the humanity of Jesus while he was on earth.

At the end of the day, this is a minor theological point. The real important point is the historical reality of the empty tomb, but it's also important to emphasize that Jesus' ministry on earth wasn't as a loan ranger: He came at the behest of the Father's will, in submission to the Father's will, to model true submission and discipleship so that in Him, we might also know and glorify the Father.


Read more...