Edgework

It seems to me that many Christians prefer to decide on and stick with one image, metaphor or theory with respect to atonement. And a large number of these brothers and sisters declare all other ways of speaking about atonement to be wrong and anti-biblical. Sometimes it is a case of “who got to you first,” and at other times it is simply that of personal preference. In modern evangelicalism it is most often the penal substitutionary atonement theory that is declared to be dogma while all other views are suspect.

This is unfortunate because atonement is like a multi-faceted diamond that reflects its brilliance in many ways – within the biblical text, within church history and hopefully within our contemporary experience. In her book, Executing God, Sharon L. Baker says it this way:

The layers of reinterpretation in both the biblical texts and in the history of Christian doctrine lead to the realization that the tradition is to reinterpret the tradition. We reinterpret continually, with a repetition that preserves the relevance of the living and active Word of God. Without the continual reinterpretation of our tradition we fall victim to a stagnant traditionalism that sucks the life out of our faith (81).

Even in the Gospel accounts we find Jesus using a variety of metaphors to communicate what happens to those who align themselves with his message. They are “born again,” have “entered the sheepfold through a door,” have “eaten living bread,” have drunk “living water,” or have “become part of the Kingdom of God.” All are “true” and each adds a new layer of understanding.

When we get to the writings of Paul we find him tailoring his metaphors to the needs of his audiences. In their book, Recovering the Scandal of the Cross, Joel Green and Mark Baker claim that the idea that there is only one “biblical” view of atonement is unfounded.

In the New Testament, the saving effect of Jesus’ death is represented primarily through five constellations of images, each of which is borrowed from the public life of the ancient Mediterranean world: the court of law (e.g., justification), the world of commerce (e.g., redemption), personal relationships (e.g., reconciliation), worship (e.g., sacrifice) and the battleground (e.g., triumph over evil). Within these categories are clusters of terms, leading us to the conclusion that the significance of Jesus’ death could not be represented without remainder by any one concept or theory or metaphor (23).

In other words, we can conclude that it is legitimate to find ways of speaking about the atonement in new ways if they communicate clearly the essence of atonement to a specific audience. So as we survey the history of the church on the question of atonement, as we have done in previous essays, we can in hind sight see both the positive and negative results of these attempts. Even though she sees some of their shortcomings, Sharon Baker, argues that we should respect these honest attempts at making the atonement intelligible to peoples of different times. “I’m not advocating that we discard twenty centuries of the Christian tradition surrounding the cross. I am suggesting that we also consider alternate ways to understand it” (69). So, for example, she contends that even though the penal substitutionary atonement theory leaves us with an inadequate image of a vengeful God we have to admit that it has in fact drawn people to faith in Christ. That is what brought her to faith and that is my personal story as well.

Mark Baker is not quite as generous. He maintains that it is appropriate for us to judge the metaphors of atonement used throughout history on the basis of their impact on faith and life. He is particularly critical of the penal substitutionary atonement theory because, not only does it misrepresent God, it also has encouraged violent attitudes and behavior in the name of God. So he states in his book, Proclaiming the Scandal of the Cross, that “The message of the cross calls for a worldview shift of colossal proportions because it subverts conventional, taken-for-granted ways of thinking and knowing” (14).

All this leads Green and Baker to say in their book Recovering the Scandal of the Cross, “Images of Christ and conceptions of salvation bear the mark of the prevailing cultural consciousness and are only temporarily relevant. They do not remain always and everywhere equally useful” (99). They even suggest that “…the models championed in the New Testament for expounding the meaning of Jesus’ suffering may not (all) be suited to our day” (111).

In his book, Pilgrimage in Mission, Donald Jacobs argues that in every context and culture the gospel has to be proclaimed in such a way that it is always Good News. So, for example, proclaiming a gospel of freedom of guilt in a context where honor and shame are dominant forces will make the gospel quite irrelevant. “The result is …that the theology of one culture does not speak directly to the heartfelt concerns of another culture” (56).

So as Green and Baker say, the question is, “How can I communicate this message in terms that make sense in this world in which we live while at the same time calling this world into question” (210)? Perhaps that means that we have to rethink the very nature of the gospel. Perhaps it is not about finding a way to appease an angry God so he won’t send people to an eternal hell. Is the gospel perhaps all about how Jesus comes to meet our deepest needs, diverse as they may be? If it is, then it means that we have to pay attention to our audiences and then tailor our proclamation according to what we discern to be their deepest needs.

While this approach to proclaiming the gospel might rob us of some of our sense of certainty, that may be a good thing, especially if people’s deepest needs are met through the gospel of Jesus Christ.