Justin Patton's Blog

I suspect I am in the majority of life-long Christians who identify most strongly with the prodigal son’s elder brother. Presuming oneself to be among the stricter, and therefore the most prudent/wise/obedient group, is a tempting false equivalency to make. I think it leads to the rivalry Henri Nouwen speaks of between the older and younger brothers in Christ’s parable. 

I spent many years viewing “younger-brother behavior” from a self-righteous position. It is incredibly difficult for humans to separate a person from their behavior, especially when we see ourselves as obedient and others as disobedient. I did not recognize anyone teaching or modelling any awareness to the contrary of this view prior to my college years. I viewed those I thought to be disobedient as inherently worse than those who seemed to be more obedient. I was good in my own eyes because I didn’t do what they did. I knew I still needed Jesus, because we all do, but I also believed there was absolutely a pecking order, and Jesus knew about it as well as I did.

The main reason this appealed to me was because it was simply normal Christianity as I understood it. I was trying to receive the teaching I’d been offered, obey my parents, and just be a good Christian. The prodigal’s presumed sins were all the same sins my church and parents seemed the most concerned with: promiscuity, alcohol abuse, and other “warm-blooded” indulgences (as Dorothy Sayers might say). The message of the parable seemed to be: a person who seeks these things ends up spiritually and physically empty, but he will be received if he returns to the Father – and turns from those sins (which I was already not committing).

Perhaps it was a lack of trust and safety among the Body that prevented this nuance from coming to light: “Just when I think I am capable of overcoming my temptations, I feel envy toward those who gave in to theirs” (76). There were some cases in which I knew this to be true of myself—even as a child. But if the adults did not dare to express this sort of experience, then I certainly wasn’t going to. It would be years later before I accepted that the younger brother and I were inherently the same.

Nouwen describes the binary result of this brotherly short-sightedness with horrifying clarity: “To be afraid or to show disdain, to suffer submission or to enforce control, to be an oppressor or to be a victim: these have become the choices for one outside of the light” (82). Of course, we older brothers don’t realize that we are outside of the light unless we: 1) see that our choices fall into one of these two general areas Nouwen describes, and 2) realize how far short of the gospel this binary option falls. Many of us are ready to fight to the death to justify the older-brother way of doing things. Younger brothers often have an easier time admitting that their debauchery is debased.

Nouwen reminds me of Richard Foster’s view of formation as he wonders how an older brother can prepare to be found and brought home again. “Obviously not just by waiting and being passive” (84). Trust and gratitude, like Foster’s disciplines, are keys. It turns out that trust really is what was lacking, along with the gratitude that comes from a safe community. This resonates with my experience, as I did not trust that it was at all safe to be cheering for the homecoming of younger brothers publicly at church. It seemed they would need to prove themselves by exhibiting some predetermined number of years of older-brother behavior before the church proclaimed such loose canons as having truly come home. 

Sometimes it seems as if new churches should be planted with this sensibility embedded from the start, instead of trying to figure out how to evangelize a church full of skeptical older brothers. I do think transformation is possible, but the outcome is never certain and the time investment can extend to a lifetime.

I’m no Southern Baptist ethicist, but I think evangelicalism’s perpetual focus on the LGBTQ culture wars is failing absolutely everybody. A whole lot of that focus results from a verse that hasn’t been dealt with very often by homosexual religious apologists. The apologists have brought up the nature of Roman homosexuality, and how it was vastly different than the issue of gay marriage today, and they’ve brought up the dates of the biblical inclusion of the word “homosexual,” …but I find a different issue far more theologically compelling.

1 Corinthians 6:18 would seem to suggest that sexual sin (which has been entirely reduced to “LGBTQ sin” in terms of Christian activism today) is somehow worse than other sins. The comparison aspect of verse 18 seems impossible to miss. However, there are a few versions (KJV, NRSV) in which the comparison aspect is curiously absent! Was Paul actually comparing sexual sin to all other sins, like greed or pride, and finding it to be worse? If not, the modern evangelical war against sexual sin as the “issue of our day” is entirely out of balance (as Dorothy Sayers humorously argues—far better than I ever could—in her 1941 tract “The Other Six Deadly Sins”).

“‘All things are lawful for me,’ but not all things are helpful. ‘All things are lawful for me,’ but I will not be dominated by anything.” — 1 Corinthians 6:12

This translation, the ESV, along with many other more recent translations, uses quotes around certain phrases to indicate that the translators believe Paul is referring to a common Corinthian saying. What appears in quotes is not Paul’s meaning. What appears in quotes is believed to be a Corinthian slogan. Neither the King James Version nor the NKJV nor the NASB include quotes of the Corinthian variety (but they do point out when Paul quotes Genesis).

The Message and the NIV, however, go so far as to render the translation as “you know the old saying…” or “you say…”. So depending on the translation, there is either nothing to indicate that Paul is comparing and contrasting Corinthian slogans with God’s truth (KJV, NKJV, NASB), or there are quotation marks (ESV, RSV, and NRSV), or there are clarifying statements that render Paul’s words as “you say” to indicate that he is quoting the culture of his own audience, after which he offers his own, contrasting thought.

In addition to these ambiguities, the location of the quotation marks also seems to be in question. The New Century Version ends the quotable section in verse 13 earlier than does the NIV. So there isn’t 100% agreement about where the quotes go, either. Of course, if we were first century Corinthians, we would know immediately.

Paul begins by quoting one of the local sayings, and then …responding very thoughtfully. He challenges this weak, bumper sticker logic “I have the right to do anything,” from an unexpected angle. He doesn’t just say “no you don’t!” He appeals to the well-being of the Corinthians. His logic seems to be: “Suppose that were true, suppose you DO have the right to do anything… what good is it, if the thing does not benefit you! Do you want to be mastered by a thing?” Paul ups the quality of the logic.

He also appeals to the Corinthians’ sense of personal value and individual freedom. Rather than protest this idea that they have the right to do anything, Paul tells his readers what it is that he is in favor of. Being “for” something is always more powerful than just being against something. So what is Paul for? The inherent value of the Corinthians. He’s for loving them. He seems to be saying: “I know you don’t want to damage yourself. I know you don’t want to lose your free will to a thing.”

Paul continues to contrast common Corinthian logic with his own: “‘Food is meant for the stomach and the stomach for food — and God will destroy both one and the other.’ The body is not meant for sexual immorality, but for the Lord, and the Lord for the body. And God raised the Lord and will also raise us up, by his power.” — 1 Corinthians 6:13–14

The Brazos commentary on 1 Corinthians suggests moving the quotation a phrase later, and the NIV has done just that in comparison with the ESV. Isn’t it interesting that, depending on your translation, one reads different phrases as either Paul’s logic, or logic with which Paul is directly disagreeing! Let’s go with the NIV here.

“Do you not know that your bodies are members of Christ? Shall I then take the members of Christ and make them members of a prostitute? Never! Or do you not know that he who is joined to a prostitute becomes one body with her? For, as it is written, ‘The two will become one flesh.’ But he who is joined to the Lord becomes one spirit with him.” — 1 Corinthians 6:15–17

“Sexual intercourse is seemingly trivialized by the Corinthians. They do not realize that, because of God’s creative act and intentions, sex is never trivial. …Paul’s view of sexual union does not denigrate or devalue, but recognizes its divinely ordained blessing of wholistic intimacy.” — Bender, Kimlyn J.. 1 Corinthians (Brazos Theological Commentary on the Bible), Brazos Press, 2022.

“Flee from sexual immorality. Every other sin a person commits is outside the body, but the sexually immoral person sins against his own body. Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God? You are not your own, for you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body.” — 1 Corinthians 6:18–20

“Flee from sexual immorality.” That’s simple enough. The Corinthians have seen the whole time why Paul wants them to do that. But finally he underscores this thing that is for their good with a clear directive. But not without working hard to be persuasive first. Paul understood that motives matter.

“Every other sin a person commits is outside the body, but the sexually immoral person sins against his own body.” — 1 Corinthians 6:18

“There is good reason to see this verse as first, providing a Corinthian slogan, and then giving Paul’s response. It is difficult to think that Paul held that any sin is “outside” or “apart” apart from the body in light of all that he has said above, where physical actions in deeds not only implicate the whole person, but also have spiritual ramifications owing to ones being a member of Christ. It therefore seems most likely that the first part of this line is a Corinthian slogan used by some members to trivialize their sexual escapades as of no real importance.” — Bender, Kimlyn J.. 1 Corinthians (Brazos Theological Commentary on the Bible), Brazos Press, 2022.

The Brazos commentary is suggesting that we haven’t yet ironed out the issue of quotation marks. And I’m not sure why we would think that we have. Not only does it make sense for Paul’s pattern of contrasting Corinthian slogans with the truth to continue, but the congruency of the whole passage is more theologically consistent if we consider verse 18 to be the fourth example of this.

Brazos is suggesting the passage ought to read like this:

Corinthians: “Every sin that a person commits is outside the body.”
Paul: “But the fornicator sins against the body itself.” [You don’t get away with it that easily, guys. Sorry.]

If this is correct, then: 1) Paul is still doing what he’s been doing this whole time, and 2) we don’t have to ignore as many theological inconsistencies as we would have to if we took all of verse 18 as part of Paul’s theology.

However, the word “other” is missing from this suggested translation. Isn’t it supposed to say, “Every OTHER sin a person commits is outside the body…” And doesn’t that word OTHER seem to pretty clearly connect the phrase to sexual immorality?

The Brazos Commentary has gotten rid of the word “other.” Why? Because in a literal sense, it’s not there. The KJV, NKJV, NRSV, Young’s Literal Translation, and Strong’s Concordance all indicate that the word “other” does not appear in this verse. If “other” isn’t there — and it literally isn’t — then its function as a grammatical determiner for “sexual immorality” is nonexistent. There is no reason to view sexual sin as extra… anything.

All parts of the human belong to God: body, soul, spirit. Nothing is lost from the gospel by giving up the theological idea of a “worst” sin. Paul isn’t failing to call sexual immorality “sin,” he is establishing equality. It is an equality of perspective and an equality of response — an equality of all fallen humanity.

I.
Andre Ong explains that it is possible “the gospel reached the shores of India before
Paul wrote the epistle to the Romans” around 55 AD (Ong 2019). The “Thomas Tradition” is identifiable “in song and verse for generations untold” which “tell about ‘the Coming of the Way of the Son of God’ into the lineages of families” (Frykenberg 2008, 93). Oral tradition is significant, but far from conclusive. Still, it made sense to Thomas skeptic Alphonse Mingana that “India’s most ancient Christian communities took this matter so seriously” (Frykenberg 2008, 91).

In terms of early literary evidence, there exists a 3rd-4th century Syriac text called the Acts of Thomas. It is not native to India, but rather Edessa, which is in the region of modern Iraq (Frykenberg 2008, 93). There is some evidence to believe the origin could go back to the 2nd century. It is the “oldest surviving account left by any congregation beyond the frontiers of the Roman Empire in the East” (Frykenberg 2008, 93). There are additional indicators that link the Christian communities of Edessa and India, which suggests that the Acts of Thomas is not the only connection between the regions, strengthening the argument for validity.

One of the more tantalizing pieces of archeological evidence for the Acts of Thomas has to do with the potential validation of a character in the work: King Gundaphar. A collection of coins was discovered in Afghanistan in 1834, which was the first time the historicity of Gundaphar was actually confirmed (Ong 2019). This would seem to bring credibility to at least portions of the Acts of Thomas.

Either way, “…there can be no reason to doubt that Christian and Jewish communities were already settling along the shores of the subcontinent by the second century”(Frykenberg 2008, 103). A Christian scholar named Pantaenus was reported to have gone to India in the second century and found “Matthew’s gospel had already arrived” (Frykenberg 2008, 103). Christianity was in India surprisingly early, but unless we consider the Acts of Thomas to be largely a reliable historical record, we don’t really know quite how it happened.

While the Council of Chalcedon in 451 largely ended many Western Christian controversies, the churches in the East (especially beyond Byzantium) were largely left to roil in those same controversies… and weaken (Frykenberg 2008, 105). The Muslim expansion of 632-42 continued to weaken discourse between East and West, and between possible language barriers and the eastern monastic lifestyle proving an ill-fit among regular people, the Church in the East largely disappeared (Frykenberg 2008, 105).

II.
Hinduism contains similarities to the Western notion of “all Truth is God’s Truth.” It
sees ultimate reality as too great for any one religious expression to encapsulate it. Both the Hindu and the Christian might therefore say, “wherever Truth exists, it must be God’s.” The main tension in Indian Christian theology is between a tendency toward pluralism and “only Christ.” Definitions can remain in such a flexible state, the question of whether they retain enough of the original intent may arise. Even in Western Christian confines, the number of ways in which “only Christ” can be interpreted can be surprisingly varied. For example, C.S. Lewis and Helmut Thielicke both believed that a person might be saved (through only Christ), but without certain expected indicators (such as knowing Christ’s name). In a more pluralistic sense, Indian Christians might claim Christ as the “crown of Hinduism” (Farquar 1915). Any of this kind of talk is guaranteed to unsettle your grandmother.

Raymundo Panikkar argued that “Hinduism was a kind of Christianity in potential” (Greenman and Green 2012, 119). This may at first sound shocking, however, it is a Christian tenet that every human being is a Christian in potential. Even within Orthodox Christianity, there are those sects which cannot abide some element of the other, so it hardly requires being from a different religion to find oneself excluded by Christians. But the inclusion of Christ has elements that we do not fully understand, as exhibited by the words of Christ to the thief on the cross.

Paul Devenandan believed “there was a need to enter into dialogue with people of other faiths and discover the hidden Christ” (Greenman and Green 2012, 120). This could be viewed as a slippery slope toward pluralism, or a Pauline approach to redeeming the altar to the unknown god. I believe it becomes evident that the risk of error can never be eradicated and that patient and generous correction is a part of the Christian walk. Perhaps the pluralism that we must come to accept is this state of being in mid-creation, and all the uncertainty that entails—not challenges to the exclusivity of Christ.

Whereas a tendency of Western Christianity is sometimes to overextend itself in endless delineations, conceiving of ever higher resolutions of theological definitions, Indian Christianity can be inclined in the other direction. A.J. Appasamy struggled to emphasize “…the whole work of Christ and the gravity of human sin” (Greenman and Green 2012, 117). Of course, the balance between the two extremes is not something that can be mathematically determined. But if one must err, perhaps allowing for some measure of mystery isn’t the worst thing—especially if it can’t be helped anyway.

III.
Indian theologians have “defended a high value of biblical authority” and “hold to
missionary intentions” (Sugirtharajah 1999, 232). Their theology of spirituality remains largely in line with a biblical worldview (Greenman and Green 2012, 124). The Indian theology of suffering can be seen to align with Paul’s teaching on the subject (Greenman and Green 2012, 125). God as Creator, Christ as wholly human and wholly God, the community of believers, and the resurrection of Christ (and those who follow Him) all appear largely intact in most Indian Christian theology.

I’m left feeling very bad at this point about my criticism in section two not being robust enough. Obviously there are lines that deserve and require defending. But I’m a product of my own culture, and I’ve been surrounded by harsh critics my whole life. My first inclination is not to join them. This exercise reminds me of the cry of my own heart. “Am I Christian enough, yet?” Will the gatekeepers of the community I aspire to be a part of let me in? Tenet one, two, three… check, check, check. I’m not sure anyone is fully capable of defining comprehensively the “complete” Biblical worldview, or the key parts of it, or the actual fidelity of the person striving toward fidelity. I’m cheering for the Indian theologians. They can’t be too much further off than any randomly selected church in the West.

IV.
Because there is such a strong sense of pluralism in India, the tendency of the West
to replace and erase indigenous cultural identity during the process of evangelism and conversion is not their first instinct. The idea that both people and their cultural identity can be potentially Christian without adapting to a total Western mindset is likely a far greater reality on the mission field than in Western churches, but that sensibility could be of tremendous help to our churches in the West.

Theology often involves talking “about” God in the third person. Helmut Thielicke remarks on the dangers of this in his book A Little Exercise for Young Theologians, and recommends the approach of speaking “to” God in the second person. When Western Christians disagree about theology, the differences they diverge over are rarely as challenging as retaining an indigenous cultural identity through conversion. But if this respecting of identity—of thinking in the second person about God and each other—were more central than speaking about God, perhaps Western Christians could strengthen our own ability to trust more in His identity (and our identity in Him) and less in our own spiralling rationales.

Introspection is not the strongest element in Western theology. The debate over Matthew 7:1 (i.e. judge not) is rarely balanced, and the takeaways shared on the internet are usually extremely one-sided. The fear that the verse is being used as an excuse to sin is perhaps valid, but likely not as widespread as the possibility that the verse is being used to keep the focus on the shortcomings of others, and off of oneself. Indian tradition is highly introspective, placing perhaps too much value on a spirituality that fails to connect with practical life. But similarly to the point I questioned before, is that really any worse than connecting the one-way street of our judgmental, outwardly-focused morals to the practical lives of others while failing to look inward?

However, R.S. Sugirtharajah notes a problem in India that I would argue is shared by the West. This is the “gap between the theology… in the seminary and the theology advocated by the institutionalized Church” (Sugirtharajah 1999, 233). It isn’t that one should be presumed superior to the other, though it is common to hear representatives of both groups criticize one another. The great need is for patient, respectful discourse. For the seminarian to presume education alone guarantees an advantage in biblical interpretation is a mistake; for the layperson to presume their lack of education guarantees an advantage is a mistake as well. In this scenario, both parties would do well to tolerate a bit more “pluralism.”

References

Farquhar, J. N. -. 1915. The Crown of Hinduism / by J.N. Farquhar. England: Humphrey Milford, Oxford University Press, 1915.

Frykenberg, Robert Eric. 2008. Christianity in India : From Beginnings to the Present. Oxford History of the Christian Church. Oxford: OUP Oxford. https://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=nlebk&AN=242218&site=ehos t-live&scope=site.

Greenman, Jeffrey P, and Gene L Green. 2012. Global Theology in Evangelical Perspective : Exploring the Contextual Nature of Theology and Mission. Downers Grove, Ill: IVP Academic.

Ong, Andre. “How the Gospel Reached India.” Christian Global View in World Perspectives 605. Online lecture for Bethel Seminary, St. Paul, MN, July 11, 2019.

Ong, Andre. “An Overview of Indian Theologies.” Christian Global View in World Perspectives 605. Online lecture for Bethel Seminary, St. Paul, MN, July 11, 2019.

Sugirtharajah, R.S. 1999. “Postcolonialism and Indian Christian Theology.” Studies in World Christianity 5, no. 2: 229–40. https://doi.org/10.3366/swc.1999.5.2.229.

Cultural Apologetics: Renewing the Christian Voice, Conscience, and Imagination in a Disenchanted World

Cultural Apologetics is a call to examine the nature of cultures, including (and especially) the culture of modern Christianity. Specifically, it is a call to a renewed hope in all things true, good, and beautiful at the heart of the Christian faith. Author Paul M. Gould touches on the innate longings of the human creature, how the gospel interfaces with those longings, and how specific cultural challenges may either assist in or hinder inroads made into various cultures by a distinctly Christian worldview. Among those hindrances, a worldly approach of disenchantment within Christian culture itself looms as a translucent barrier. Gould would have us remove that barrier and become reenchanted, leaving our modernist purgatory behind for happier, greener pastures.

The author relies heavily on sociological rationale, such as Peter Berger’s “plausibility structures” (19). Such structures are thought of as mostly unrecognized yet powerful guide rails inherent in the imagination and rationale of a culture. A failure to account for these structures amounts to a failure to be able to effectively communicate the gospel with that culture.

Biblical evidence is also presented, such as Paul’s engagement with the Lycaonians. “Paul began to proclaim the good news, inviting them to ‘turn from… vain things’ (i.e. idols) too ‘a living God who made the heaven and the earth…” (85). If Paul was trying to confront sin “head on” (per the purgatorial Christian ethos), then he failed. But he does not simply say: “Stop it” — and then proclaim his Christian duty complete. Instead, he draws the attention of the culture to the things they already recognize to be “good and delightful” (85). What a nut.

Anglican Theologian Hans Boersma echoes Eastern Orthodox priest Alexander Schmemman at the conclusion of the chapter “Reenchantment” when he says, “we must ‘relearn to see the world with sacramental eyes’” (92). Schmemman offers this:

“Centuries of secularism have failed to transform eating into something strictly utilitarian. Food is still treated with reverence…To eat is still something more than to maintain bodily functions. People may not understand what that ‘something more’ is, but they nonetheless desire to celebrate it. They are still hungry and thirsty for sacramental life” (Shmeman 2018, 22). In these examples we find an appeal to theological evidence.

C.S. Lewis introduces the philosophical difference between the function of truth and meaning in Chapter 4: Imagination: “…while reason is ‘the natural organ of truth,’ it is the imagination that is ‘the organ of meaning” (107). The idea of a higher meaning behind a truth (potentially a fact) would seem to be consistent with Platonic idealism, a concept Glenn S. Sunshine explores in his work” (Sunshine 2009, 25). If imagination is undervalued (or even demonized) within a Christian subculture, the effect may be to exchange the meaning of truth for a truncated religion of “pure” morality, cut off from the living Person of Christ.

To accept the imagination as a function of meeting the divinely-placed needs in humanity is to reconnect with beauty. Christianity expressed in terms that beguile rather than demand is surely a more meaningful, even truer, representation of the faith than one measured against a catechism only. “‘Beauty will save the world.’ It’s a startling statement… the more common saviors people turn to are money, machines, knowledge, or political power, not beauty” (117). Beauty as the road less taken is an ethos consistent with C.S. Lewis’s notion of stealing past the ‘dragons’ of plausibility structures: “But supposing that by casting all these things into an imaginary world, stripping them of their stained-glass and Sunday school associations, one could make them for the first time appear in their real potency? Could one not thus steal past those watchful dragons? I thought one could” (Lewis 1956).

Gould follows his look at beauty with a chapter on reason, which deals with the nature of truth as syllogistic logic is capable of revealing it. This is a helpful look at how logic functions, but it is also notable that the human element is not ignored. “The content level is the literal meanings of the words that convey our message. The relational level expresses the amount of affection, respect, and compassion between people” (138). We often overestimate the value of the content of our messages compared to the respect and compassion we offer in our attempts at communicating reason.

The conclusion of the primary argument, if not the book, is a chapter called Conscience, which corresponds to the virtue of goodness. One striking point comes from the English poet W.H. Auden. Whereas many people look at the world’s injustice, pain, and suffering, and so question God, this account from Auden is the inverse. Having rejected Christianity for atheism, Auden believed in a “natural human goodness” (151). But when he saw a documentary of the Nazi invasion of Poland in 1939, Auden found his atheism contradicted by the evilness he perceived in Hitler and his actions: “I thought I had done with Christianity for good” (151). The existence of genuine Good is far more difficult to reject than it is to accept.

Having never heard of Gould before, this book surprised me throughout — in a lot of good ways. First of all, I’m not sure I’ve ever come across another Christian who seems to have taken a spiritual journey so similar to mine. I eventually stopped being surprised and began to expect the conclusions and sources Gould would share next. I think anyone who gets deeply involved with C.S. Lewis (and his favorite authors) is likely to have pieced together the benefits and challenges that the “true, good, and beautiful” ethos brings to the table. I do believe Gould succeeds in consolidating and packaging the sometimes unobvious connections between the “old, dead Brits” into a cohesive vision for rethinking the church’s approach in the modern day.

Gould desires to make the biblical position seem “plausible and desirable again” for modern culture, and the road to this includes acknowledging how poorly evangelicalism has handled many issues over the years. Not for the purpose of casting stones or blaming, but to identify legitimate stumbling blocks and to correct those toward the things that are of first importance (e.g. the imago Dei, the equality of sinners, etc.). This application is a third way between the current leading options: recklessly affirm opinions, or vehemently reject them, and we desperately need it. It also succeeds as a case study that may be applied to other areas.

References

Gould, Paul M. 2019. Cultural Apologetics : Renewing the Christian Voice, Conscience, and Imagination in a Disenchanted World. Grand Rapids, Michigan: Zondervan.

Lewis, C.S. 1956. “Sometimes Fairy Stories May Say Best What’s to be Said.” New York Times (1923-), Nov 18.

Shmeman, Aleksandr. 2018. For the Life of the World : Sacraments and Orthodoxy. Yonkers, New York: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press.

Sunshine, Glenn S. 2009. Why You Think the Way You Do : The Story of Western Worldviews from Rome to Home. Grand Rapids, Mich: Zondervan.

Critical Dilemma addresses the philosophical foundations of many of today’s most prevalent moral beliefs, ranging from Karl Marx to Kimbelré Crenshaw. Part I examines the history and variety of critical theories in significant depth, while Part II offers an academic, yet Christian, critique of the same. Shenvi and Sawyer are careful to delineate the Christian perspective from a political one, while underscoring the desperate need for the church to be capable of interacting with the culture at large in a productive manner. 

Philosophical evidence from the de facto father of critical theory (Marx) is presented early on: “The ideas of the ruling class are in every epoch the ruling ideas…” (71). This, from Marx’s critique of his former mentors entitled The German Ideology, was written in 1845—but not published until 1932. Marx dismisses religion, along with any other philosophy besides materialism, with the following statement: “Morality, religion, metaphysics, all the rest of ideology and their corresponding forms of consciousness no longer retain the semblance of independence; they have no history and no development; but men, developing their material production and their material intercourse, alter, along with their real existence, their thinking and the products of their collective thinking” (Marx 6).

While Marx may be the easiest father figure to identify, the authors point out that the term “social justice” itself was coined by a Catholic priest before The German Ideology was ever published (127). Biblical evidence is used to support the notion that social justice—as understood in some measure the way critical theorists would recognize it—is a biblical good: “You shall not pervert the justice due to your poor in his lawsuit” Exodus 23:6 (128). 

Sociological evidence is presented in the criticism of the concept of objectivity and neutrality: “CRT (Critical Race Theory) scholarship as a whole challenges liberalist claims of objectivity, neutrality… and argues that these principles actually normalize and perpetuate racism…” (158). The principle of the rejection of objectivity clearly has theological implications as well.

Michel Foucault’s approaches to archaeology and genealogy are used in queer theory to conclude “not only that homosexuality is a social construct but that the homosexual himself is a social construct” (180). Similarly, Jacques Derrida’s “deconstruction” presumes to undermine preexisting delineations based on the initial presumptions that gave rise to the delineations. The problem with a total rejection of objectivity begins to become apparent…

The last chapter in Part I surveys the positive contributions of critical theory. The authors provide two reasons for this. First, “All actual truth is grounded in God’s reality” (205). Secondly, “If we don’t have any genuine understanding of critical social theory, our critiques will not be credible or effective.” Therefore, to even look for objective truth within critical theory is to provide a reason for CT’s adherents to value objectivity, and to find it is to disprove one of CT’s tenets in a loving way. 

Part II begins with a survey of the basic Evangelical worldview and frames critical theory as an alternative worldview (among many). “Understand we are not saying [critical theory beliefs] must function as a worldview/metanarrative. But it would be wrong to conceive of contemporary critical theory or the critical social theory from which it is derived as only a narrow analytical tool with a limited breadth of application. Its ideological presuppositions, claims, and commitments are much too broad, much too foundational and totalizing for that” (277). An article by David French in National Review explained intersectionality as: “identity politics on steroids, where virtually every issue in American life can and must be filtered through the prisms of race, gender, sexual orientation, and gender identity… [it] is filling that religion-shaped hole in the human heart.”

The second half of Critical Dilemma essentially attempts to prove what Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. said in 1962: “[communism] is the only serious rival of Christianity The other historic and great religions of the world such as Judaism, Mohammedanism, Buddhism, and Hinduism may stand as alternatives to Christianity. But for the most formidable competitor that Christianity faces in the world today, we must look to communism” (King). The authors compare critical theory, CRT, and queer theory to Christianity in order to understand why people are drawn to each worldview. Ultimately, this work attempts to clarify why Christianity offers the most comprehensive and compelling answer to questions regarding human origin, truth, morality, purpose, and love.

I think the authors were highly successful with their goals for this book. There is a desperate need for reliable, well-contextualized educational resources for church leaders in this area. These topics seem like political issues to many, but in many cases function much more like a competitive religion. It’s not enough to just be right about the philosophies and moralities in play, Christians must be wise, too. This requires a sensitivity to why the different critical theories appeal to people’s legitimate needs and a patience for the work required to reveal the truth of Christianity by one’s actions as well as one’s words.

In some circles, CRT and/or queer theory can’t be discussed at all without introducing extreme tension and causing offense. I think the authors did an admirable job of attempting to mitigate this, but when people already see an issue as inherently virtuous or evil, there’s not a lot that can be done to circumvent such bias. I believe church leaders must wrestle with these issues, but it may well be that their primary duty in relation to their congregations is to discuss the issues in a way that bypasses triggering language. In this regard, Critical Dilemma leaves church leaders largely on their own. The authors don’t lay out a plan for this (see Cultural Apologetics by Gould for one such plan), but they more than adequately highlight how Christianity differs from CT in convincingly attractive ways.

CT’s assault on objectivity is cloudy at best. Outside of critical theory, one is allowed to take note of the fact that relativism can’t demand to be absolutely, objectively true without undermining itself. But CT does away with millenniums of multiculturally agreed upon logic by arguing that everything, apart from itself, is oppressive, thereby rejecting the formerly accepted argument against relativism in favor of a new strongman theory reminiscent of Nietzsche—but with a much stronger sense presumed moral authority. This is both attractive and irresponsible.

The primary weakness I see in Critical Dilemma is the lack of a clear solution to an issue raised by political philosopher Hans Kelsen. “…Kelsen argues that people who believe in an absolute morality will want that morality imposed through authoritarian rule” (Berggren 2016). Critics can see this authoritarian rule in many applications of CT today, though CT gives itself a hall pass. But this is also what CT criticizes in Christianity, and there is some validity (and hypocrisy) to this criticism. Christians have fallen back on authoritarian rule at times, amending “go and sin no more” with “…or else.” Christ dying on the cross would seem to be the antithesis of authoritarian rule, proof that, for Christians, minds are not changed via excommunication or coercion, but by God’s kindness (Romans 2:4), as understood through the promise to Abraham and the life, death, and resurrection of Christ. If this were the rule among Christians, would CT have had as much success in supplanting Christianity as a modern worldview?

I think Critical Dilemma will be very useful in ministry as a reference and potentially a book to be shared with those who have the interest and patience to try to understand the issues better. It may become even more important as the years go by, as the “religion” of CT becomes more prevalent. Defending and especially demonstrating Christianity as a faith that calls its adherents to die to themselves first seems to be significant in answering the criticism of oppression. 

References

Berggren, N. (2016). Does belief in objective morality lead to coercion? An analysis of the arguments of Kelsen and Buchanan. Review of Austrian Economics, 29(3), 315-326. https://doi.org/10.1007/s11138-015-0318-8

King, Martin Luther. Sermon at Ebenezer Baptist Church, Sept. 30, 1962. https://kinginstitute.stanford.edu/king-papers/documents/can-christian-be-communist-sermon-delivered-ebenezer-baptist-church#:~:text=While%20insisting%20that%20%E2%9Cno%20Christian,stand%20against%20racial%20discrimination%2C%20he

Marx, Karl. The German Ideology.  https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/download/Marx_The_German_Ideology.pdf

Shenvi, Neil, and Pat Sawyer. 2023. Critical Dilemma. Eugene, Oregon: Harvest House Publishers.

“Am I Christian enough?” Only someone who wants to be would sincerely ask the question. The critic might say, “One is either Christian, or one is not. ‘Enough’ is not part of the equation.” And I would agree (in a final analysis sort-of-way). But “Am I Christian enough?” is more of a cry of the heart than a theological question. It’s more feeling (or fear) — but is it something we have an answer for?

I’m aware many people think they do. Many give their answers loudly. Often smugly. The problem is this: Authority Figure A speaks only for himself, while Authority Figure B speaks only for herself. Mr. A may appeal to John MacArthur, while Ms. B may appeal to Tim Mackie. “Oh, that’s easy,” you may say. “Go with John MacArthur. He’s the right one.” Hold on… My point is this: Mr. A may not be Christian enough for Ms. B, and Ms. B may not be Christian enough for Mr. A. We all have our favorite authority figures. But does that really mean they (or we) can rule people out? Based on what, exactly? 

Our modern cultural moment can be amusing in some ways, yet the hopelessness inherent in the confusion surrounding what is “Christian enough” is not. “Do you believe that Jesus is the Son of God who died and rose again to reconcile sinful humanity? Are you prepared to follow Him in that death in any way that He chooses to lead you? Will you in good faith do your best to accept the Bible as authoritative for this purpose?”

“Oh, and… what is your position on climate change? The progressive conspiracy to infiltrate Evangelicalism? Critical Race Theory? LGBTQ+? Open borders? Trump?” After crossing off the “biggies,” the modern trend is to move quickly into a highly questionable series of litmus tests of trending topics. Conspicuously absent from trending topics: issues that would require self-reflection on the part of the inquisitors, such as pride, envy, gluttony, and wrath (and that’s just to name the sins). But even more troubling is the absence of what Christians have historically said we are for: the definition of God’s nature, the character and transformative power of His love, the significance of His creation (old and new), and the choice to follow Christ and die to self… all virtually unheard of amidst the roar of the internet and for-profit companies capitalizing on both the increasingly homogenous Christian/political far-right and far-left demographics.

Note that the question of “Am I Christian Enough” is different from “Are you telling me I can’t call this a sin?” Neither Mr. A nor Ms. B are being asked to defy their personal convictions. They are both free to call whatever they want a sin. They are free to fellowship only with people who affirm their interpretations of scripture. But pressing questions remain: what does it take to revoke someone’s Christianity? Who gets to establish a definitive timeline for the obedience of others? Who gets to evaluate the reconciliatory work of other believers?

What do we do if Mr. A or Ms. B decide that faith in the Creator God who made humanity in His image isn’t enough? When faith in the perfect expression of communion that is the Trinity isn’t enough? When faith in God as the fulfillment of all human longing for true, good, and beautiful things, when faith in scripture as meditation literature to be pondered over a lifetime of patient study, when the awareness of the equality of both the fallenness and the infinite value of all humanity, when faith in the future kingdom for which Christ died and rose again to achieve, when faith in the full deity and full humanness of Jesus, and faith in his sanctifying work, faith in the Holy Spirit as Counselor and the mission of the Church to be Christ to the world and participate in its reconciliation… when all of that can be considered not quite enough to get one over the line because there is still a disagreement over one trending topic. Then what? Then that one topic must be acknowledged as functionally surpassing all others as The Preeminent Essential of the Christian faith. But this is simply not tenable. 

Matthew 19:16-28 is the story of the rich young ruler. Of this young man’s concerns George MacDonald says, “There must be a keeping of the commandments, which, although anything but perfect, is yet acceptable to the heart of Him from whom nothing is hid” (MacDonald, Project Gutenberg). If our keeping of the commandments is anything but perfect, so will our theology be. Perhaps wanting to be Christian enough is enough of a start. Perhaps hope will be enough to continue the journey. And perhaps the perfection that Mr. A and Ms. B want to see in the rest of us will be achieved in time. If they can find a measure of patience, bear the burdens of their brothers and sisters, and die to themselves just a little bit more.

“The theme of the [first five books of the Bible] is the partial fulfilment …of the promise to …the patriarchs. The promise or blessing is …an affirmation of the primal divine intentions for humanity” (Clines 2001, 30). One of the earliest expressions of this promise is found to be directed at Abraham. “I will make you into a great nation” (Gen. 12:2). Brad Kelle defines the promise to the patriarchs as not only the calling of Abraham and Sarah, but the intention to use those who are called as “the instrument of blessing for all creation” (Kelle 2017, 31).

However, we must go further back to understand how creatures created by Yahweh came to be in such desperate need of additional blessing. From the fall of Adam and Eve in the garden, to Cain’s murder of Abel, to the account of Noah and the flood, the brokenness of the human race is emphasized again and again, throughout the full course of lives and many generations. Even when ancient people groups seem to “get it right,” and great nations arise, those powerful empires continue to prove incapable of addressing the systemic problems of humanity (e.g. injustice, violence, suffering).

With Genesis 1-11 as a preface, God’s plan for a solution is finally (though only partially) revealed in a partnership/covenant with Abraham in the twelfth chapter. The shape of this partnership takes on a higher resolution when Isaac receives the promise of the multiplication of his seed (Gen. 26:24). Jacob, then, receives the promise of land for himself and his descendants (Gen. 28:13), and Joseph claims God’s continued favor for his family even on his deathbed (Gen. 50:24). An emphasis emerges on the future descendants and future relationships of those God has called (including both vertical and horizontal relationships). “The promise of being with (Gen. 26.3,24; 28.15; 31.3; cf. 31.5; 35.3; and 31.42; 48.21) is likewise a promise of relationship.” (Clines 2001, 36).

Yahweh also invokes the promise of the patriarchs elsewhere in the Pentateuch. In Exodus, he identifies Himself to Moses through the connection with the patriarchs. The communion of God and his chosen people is also mentioned in Leviticus 26:12, as even the law itself can be understood as an expression of the promise of the patriarchs. “The instructions and practices move Israel to a fuller understanding and embodiment of who YHWH is, who they are, and how they are called to live in the world, especially as an instrument of blessing” (Kelle 2017, 81). The first ten chapters of the book of Numbers include instructions from Mt. Sinai regarding the way in which covenant people are to live, which is to say, how they are to relate to Yahweh. Deuteronomy 4:6 underscores the importance of a revelation of this covenant life to other nations of the earth.

The promise of Genesis 12, therefore, remains the center around which all the rest of the Pentateuch orbits. That the promise sees only a partial fulfillment, leaves room for a radical expansion of the relationship aspect of the covenant, which already receives greater emphasis in the narrative as the Pentateuch progresses. The importance of obedience and holiness is paramount as a component of complete reconciliation with Yahweh, yet these elements prove to be consistently unobtainable characteristics by the people of Israel. Still, Yahweh does not abandon his creation.

It is easily argued that the “promise of the patriarchs” remains as central for the New Testament as it does for the Pentateuch. “…the NT writings— like the OT texts before them— have the divine, redemptive mission as a common thread that unites their different contexts and perspectives: ‘From Matthew to Revelation, they bear witness to God’s purpose to redeem and restore all things in Christ’” (Kelle 2017, 151).

Matthew 1:1 begins with the “context” of the physical person of Jesus: “This is the genealogy of Jesus the Messiah the son of David, the son of Abraham,” making the connection between Christ and Abraham the introduction to the New Testament. The first chapter of Mark identifies Jesus as “the Son of God,” and immediately connects Jesus with the prophecy given in Isaiah 40:3. The first chapter of the Gospel of John places Jesus with God at the very beginning in Genesis.

In Matthew 5:16, Jesus echoes the sentiment expressed in Deuteronomy 4:6 when he says, “…let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.” This is exactly what Jesus is doing; living the life Israel was called to — but could not accomplish. The priority of bringing “others” into relationship with the Father remains consistent between Testaments.

The view of the Church as the Body of Christ (1 Cor. 12:27) parallels both Genesis 1:26 (the imago Dei) and Genesis 12:3 (the blessing of the nations through Israel). “In other words, when read in the context of the larger canonical story, the church— the wider community of Christ’s followers— is called through the invitation of Israel’s own Messiah to join in the mission that was given to Israel” (Kelle 2017, 154).

The Apostle Paul goes to great lengths to demonstrate how the initial invitation to Israel has, in Christ, been expanded to include the gentiles; that is, to include everyone (Rom 9:8), and how dying to self via the self-sacrificing motivation of Christ is the means by which the Church completes its mission (Phil. 2:5-8). The author of Revelation recalls the OT promise of “being with” (Gen. 26.3,24; 28.15; 31.3; cf. 31.5; 35.3) when he writes in the second-to-last chapter of the NT: “They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God” (Rev. 21:3).

Similar to the increasing relevance of personal relationships in the OT, Jesus likens the value of the vertical relationship to horizontal relationship in Matthew 22:37-39: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’” While it’s understandable that Christians might be inclined to consider Christ as the central-most figure of all Scripture, the context of the OT is clearly essential to understanding the mission of the Son of Man as a part of Yahweh’s great plan.

Does the modern church still derive its mission from the promise of the patriarchs, or does it sometimes struggle with an overly individualistic lens? When pressed to engage challenging cultural issues, does the church draw appropriate lines between individual preferences or remedies rooted in the existence of Christian community? I believe that the modern church has developed an unhealthy aversion to paradox, increasing its tendency to address most issues from an either/or perspective and pitting individuals who disagree against one another. This is the opposite of dying to self, the opposite of patience, and the opposite of love. This mistake is unnecessarily limiting and incongruent with the meaning of scripture. As G.K. Chesterton said, “It is exactly this balance of apparent contradictions that has been the whole buoyancy of the healthy man” (Chesterton 1908, Project Gutenberg). So, when Kelle writes, “the human community (not merely individual persons) is created in and meant to serve as God’s image,” he suggests that the individual man, correct as he may be about one thing or another, does not represent the whole of the imago Dei equation (Kelle 2017, 43).

A hyper-individualistic take on Christianity may contribute to unhealthy competition between Christ-followers, a greater interest in the sins of others rather than in one’s own sin, and, ironically, a greater sense of uncertainty — as an individually-sourced faux certainty would likely be cultivated in the absence of the genuine comfort of communal, Christian certainty. Rather than valuing the strength of Christian community to reconcile individuals across commonly assumed barriers, the individualistic lens would tend to keep outsiders at a distance and under the presumed judgment of the insider(s).

I suspect this sort of bias may partly result from fear. If competition in Christian community exists to a significant degree, it would be easy to fear being on the losing end. If one’s individual moral performance were overemphasized, it would be easy to be afraid of comparison and potential unfavorable judgment. Faithfulness to relationship and community over significant time and through significant discomfort (as evidenced by the biblical narrative) continues to be part of God’s plan for the church — and is perhaps the type of dying to self most needed in this modern moment.

One of the great paradoxes of scripture includes the idea of boundaries, inclusion, and exclusion. Ezra, Nehemiah, and even Paul make use of strict boundaries and exclusions when establishing (or re-establishing) faithful communities. But this begs a question. “How can this ethnic exclusivism and harsh boundary drawing possibly fit with the larger OT story in which Israel remains called to be YHWH’s instrument of blessing to all nations?” (Kelle 2017, 123). A paragraph later, Kelle offers a possible answer. “…this is a short-term approach only. It won’t work long-term if this re-formed community is to fulfill its mission to be an instrument of YHWH’s life-giving blessing to the nations” (Kelle 2017, 123).

I believe the church must attempt to put Kelle’s theory to the test. For the sake of rightly relating to Yahweh and fulfilling the call to be light to the nations (Isa. 49:6, Matt. 5:14-16), believers must face the unpleasant possibility that we have spent too much time sheltering behind boundaries of fear. We must strike out beyond those boundaries. If the church is to fulfill its mission, it cannot justify remaining indefinitely protected from the wider culture by appealing to short-term, isolationist solutions.

This means that our Chrisian communities must at some point attempt to balance inclusiveness with living the genuine gospel openly. Perhaps this could look like refusing to think of or openly label those with whom we have the deepest cultural and philosophical divides as “outsiders,” while also refusing to be affirming of any higher agenda than the gospel; the communal imago Dei (of which all humanity is potentially a part). To receive the affirmation of God as a valued and reconciled individual in community is the most distinguishing Christian characteristic: unlike biases and agendas that orbit lesser definitions (e.g. self-sourced moralism). This sentiment would likely conflict with many existing biases, both within the church and without, but it is better aligned with the promise of the patriarchs than the strategies mentioned for the establishment of Christian communities in hostile territories.

I want to start off with the words of a Jewish philosopher and Holocaust survivor named Victor Frankl. Frankl said: “Love is the only way to grasp another human being in the innermost core of his personality. No one can become fully aware of the essence of another human being unless he loves him. By his love he is enabled to see the essential traits and features of the beloved person; and even more, he sees that which is potential in him, which is not yet actualized… Furthermore, by his love, the loving person enables the beloved person to actualize these potentialities…”

This is not a formula or a guarantee… it is a philosopher’s description of what love can do under the right circumstances. This is especially true of divine love — when it is accepted by creatures like us.

Frankl also said: “The way in which a man takes up his cross, [which is to suffer for the purpose of Christ] gives him ample opportunity — even under the most difficult circumstances — to add a deeper meaning to his life.” So we have a quote about love and its power, and a quote about suffering and the meaning behind suffering. And that second quote brings another question to mind: Who is it that we carry our cross for? Do you have specific people in mind? I think it’s an exceptionally good idea for us to have people in mind. 

It just so happens that, embedded in the overarching storyline of the Bible, are two realities that help us to see all of scripture more clearly: one is the uniquely Christian understanding of God as Three Unified Persons, the Trinity, and the other is… the uniquely Christian understanding of all believers — from every tribe and nation — making up the Body of Christ: the Church.  So, we have the Trinity and the Church. God so loved the world that he suffered for it, he gave something of infinite value. From this we learn that to love God and each other requires a similar kind of suffering.

Ephesian Chapter 4 says, “I therefore, the prisoner in the Lord, beg you to lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, making every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to the one hope of your calling, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is above all and through all and in all. But each of us was given grace according to the measure of Christ’s gift. Therefore it is said, ‘When he ascended on high he made captivity itself a captive; he gave gifts to his people.’” And skipping ahead to verse 11: “The gifts he gave were that some would be apostles, some prophets, some evangelists, some pastors and teachers, to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ, until all of us come to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to maturity, to the measure of the full stature of Christ. We must no longer be children, tossed to and fro and blown about by every wind of doctrine, by people’s trickery, by their craftiness in deceitful scheming. But speaking the truth in love, we must grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ, from whom the whole body, joined and knitted together by every ligament with which it is equipped, as each part is working properly, promotes the body’s growth in building itself up in love.”

My church’s statement of doctrines contains 8 points. Essential #1 says: “God is our Creator, eternally existing in three Persons: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. God has revealed Himself to mankind in His Creation; in His inspired word the Bible; and in the Person of Jesus Christ.” That’s the Trinity: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. The Trinity was, is, and will be God acting on his nature for eternity. Essential #8 says: “The Church is the body of believers in Jesus, responsible to carry on the ministry of bringing others to Him, to teach His word, and to love and serve one another. The Church’s local organization, teachings, and ordinances are to be based on the teaching and example of Jesus and the Apostles.” That’s the Body of Christ. The Church are the people empowered by the Spirit-Wind of God to live out a brand new kind of human-unity. So my church’s 8 essentials begin with the Trinity, and end with the Body of Christ.

These two lenses are the best lenses through which to view all the other essentials. Why? Why not view everything through the lens of Paul? Or James? Or even the lens of Jesus Christ himself? Why are those lenses too narrow? Because all those lenses exist within a larger context. Only the wide angle lens of the complete nature of God (Father, Son, and Spirit – the eternal divine community) AND the wide-angle lens of Body of Christ (the new divinely-created community that God has in progress, the actual purpose of all Creation), are wide enough to contextualize the entirety of scripture. They are the beginning and end of the whole Bible, Genesis and Revelation. Just like they’re the beginning and end of my church’s doctrinal statement (which I was not a part of creating). We have as good of a foundation as any church I know of. We know where we came from and we know where we’re going. And as Paul says, now we must lead a life worthy of this calling. Now we must consider how we’re growing into the headship of Christ… and what that looks like. Of course we need to know what it looks like for us within the Body. But we also need to know what it looks like to share this calling with the rest of the world. 

All people have an insatiable desire for good things. People have a deep longing for community. And many of us also sense that we are not quite whoever it is that we wish we could be, so many of us are on the lookout for an identity upgrade along with all those other things. People find different amounts of goodness and beauty, community and identity, in all sorts of places. But it’s such a tragedy that so many don’t seem to find those things in the Body of Christ. But Paul suggests quite clearly that we, the Body, can fail to cultivate those things. This is why he begs: “I beg you to lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called. We must no longer be children, tossed to and fro and blown about by every wind of doctrine, by people’s trickery, by their craftiness in deceitful scheming. But speaking the truth in love, we must grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ, from whom the whole body, joined and knitted together by every ligament with which it is equipped, as each part is working properly, promotes the body’s growth in building itself up in love.” 

Stephen Fowl addresses division in this way in his 2012 commentary on Ephesians: “First, in the face of the Spirit’s already delivered gift of unity, Christian division simply is a contradiction of the Spirit’s unity. Division does not so much destroy unity as mock unity, thereby bringing the name of the Lord into disrepute among nonbelievers. Church division must count as one of the primary examples of “grieving the Spirit.” Christian division must also be seen as God’s judgment on believers’ desire to live separated lives. That is, Christian division is one of those examples of God’s judgment where God gives people precisely what they ask for.” Therefore, the “how” of Christian community is every bit as important as the answers we espouse.

The first century church was the result of the kingdom of God, this kingdom of relational unity, breaking into a kingdom of darkness, separation, and division. Whatever your favorite story is, Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, …Dragon Ball Z… the reason that we care, the reason that a story excites us is because of who we are, who we all were created to be. We can’t help but resonate with the hope of a higher calling. God created all of us to be part of the light that He is calling out of darkness. You are the light that is being brought out of darkness. This light is the unity for which we were created. The story of God and the Church is a true story, and it is one that exceeds all others.

And this is why it’s such a tragedy when people decide that Christianity is false. Maybe they know someone who misused some Christian principles, so they figure it’s all a lie. Or they’ve looked around and they haven’t really found anyone who doesn’t seem to equate Christianity with the same sense of moral competition, the same outrage, the same anger and self-righteousness that the rest of the world demonstrates. They don’t see anyone striving for unity at great cost to themselves. They wonder, “Where is the community that endures suffering for one another?” And when they can’t find it, they give up on it. Paul begs us: be different! Live a life worthy of the calling to which you’ve been called. Be the light called out of darkness. Be a part of the divine community God is creating.

There is quite a bit to work on in just these 16 verses in Ephesians. The Body will need Christ in his rightful place as our head, in order to meet those challenges. How does God enable divine unity? He gives us all gifts that compliment each other. And we must, as a community, value and nurture all of those gifts under his headship. Otherwise… we’re mocking unity. We must be the Body, formed in the image of our Triune God. Unity does not equal hierarchy in the Trinity. The church is not a relationship of powers in competition with one another, but unified relationality, like the God that we follow. This is the light that is being called out of darkness. I pray that this is our desire, and not the separated lives Stephen Fowl warns us about.

Of course we know that we can’t trust each other without getting hurt. That’s really the crux of it. So the cross that many of us don’t want to face is the only real cross there is: suffering for the sake of someone else. There are questions that linger for the Body of Christ: do we believe the Father, Son and Spirit would call us to follow His divine community for no good reason, or for the best possible reason? Do we believe that God’s love actually enables us to obey him? That we can love God back, and to love others as ourselves, because of His love? Do we believe that the church will grow up into the headship of Christ? That we need each other’s gifts? All of them? Do we believe we desperately need to enjoy God and each other? And finally, if we do those things, do we believe people outside of the faith will take notice? I do. But it’s going to take a commitment on our parts to follow Christ, in love and suffering. Our lenses must be wide enough to see what that means. 

In Scripture as Communication, Jeannine K. Brown points out a major difference between the manner in which Westerners and Middle-Easterners speak (and perhaps think and feel). She compares Bill Clinton’s assessment of a political crisis with that of Saddam Hussein. “Here is what President Clinton said: ‘Our objectives are limited but clear: to make Saddam pay a price for the latest act of brutality, reducing his ability to threaten his neighbors and America’s interests.’ …Now listen to Hussein’s description: ‘Iraq is as steadfast as the high mountains, which are unshakeable by the winds of evil, and its sails will not be torn out by the hiss of the snakes” (Brown 2021, 137-138).

This difference is especially significant when considering our exegetical practices surrounding the word ‘beauty’ in the Old Testament. When I approach the concept of beauty in scripture, the Psalms and Isaiah come to mind. These books are rich in their use of beauty, and both utilize a poetic style to communicate truth. I like poetry much more now, but I never did as a child. And precious few adults in my Western educational experience seemed to, either.

“I have never been a very good reader of poetry. The reason, I suppose, is that I am more cognitive than emotive” (Strauss 2011, 136). With this admission, Mark Strauss speaks for many Westerners. Our catechisms and syllogistic approach to theology reveals a strong preference for logic and clarity. We are so comfortable with cognitive-only thinking that a verse like Psalm 27:4 may be unsettling at first. It’s about the psalmist’s desire for one thing: to behold the נ ֹ ַעם (H5276), the delight, beauty, or pleasantness of the Lord. This concept is related to Genesis and the garden of ֵע ֶדן (H5731) — a.k.a. The garden of Eden, or the garden of delights.

In Psalm 29:2 we see a different word translated as beauty:ֲ הָדָרה (H1927), having to do with the glory and adornment of holiness, that is, the beauty of holiness. Isaiah 33:17 promises the readers will see the king in his יֳ ִפי (H3308), his beauty. It is difficult to come up with a syllogistic expression for delight, pleasure, or glory. But these are all qualities of or having to do with the Lord and his holiness and honor. Perhaps the closest we can come is to acknowledge that all human longing is bound up in the desire to delight in the beauty of God.

Isaiah 61:3 offers two additional parallels for beauty: the oil of joy and the garment of praise. “To appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the LORD, that he might be glorified.” There is something intangible about beauty, which is exactly what makes it so special. It is fitting that trees should be invoked here, trees planted by the Lord for his glory. Trees are often some of the first examples of the beauty of Creation that come to mind.

Other common examples of beauty include sunrises and sunsets. Interestingly, Arthurian fantasy author Stephen Lawhead’s notion of the magical nature of these “times between times” sounds very much like the principle of “The Already and Not Yet,” which David Briones discusses in an article for DesiringGod.org. Figure B of this article illustrates the point at which the gap between the previous age and the age to come becomes “thin,” similar to the veil between Lawhead’s different worlds. The thing about a different world (or time) is, even if there are similarities to what is known, there are also things so strikingly different they would seem mysterious, miraculous, awe-inspiring, and wondrous. Certainly they would include many things out of the ordinary from the perspective of the previous age/common world. We understand how wonder functions at a VBS level, but we don’t seem to believe it matters so much for older kids, and especially not for grown-ups. Or maybe we just don’t know how to appeal to beauty, mystery, and otherworldliness in a way adults will appreciate. It is more difficult to capture the wonder of adults than children, after all.

In the Youtube video “Bishop Barron on Evangelizing Through Beauty,” Robert Barron discusses Evelyn Waugh’s Brideshead Revisited. He notes how beauty alone draws in the agnostic main character over repeated visits, and eventually wins him to the worship of Christ. The Catholic Church in particular (and others to a lesser degree) has retained a great deal of visual beauty via its cathedrals and icons. When my family visited the National Cathedral in Washington D.C. two years ago, it stole the show. My kids thought it was bigger than Hogwarts. Even I was utterly taken by the wonder of it all. Fantasy stories, poetry, music, and a great and unexpected variety above all… these can all work in a similar way: beauty calls us out of our normalcy and into something higher.

“We no longer dare to believe in beauty and we make of it a mere appearance in order the more easily to dispose of it. Our situation today shows that beauty demands for itself at least as much courage and decision as do truth and goodness, and she will not allow herself to be separated and be banned from her two sisters without taking them along with herself in an act of mysterious vengeance.”

Hans Ur von Balthasar (1905-1988), The Glory of the Lord: A Theological Aesthetics (Barron 2013).

Many Western churches have declared a quiet war on beauty, while idolizing a crippled version of the truth that is lacking in nearly all delights. The PCA’s investigation into “Jesus Calling” by Sarah Young comes to mind — twenty years after its publication and one year after the author’s death (Belz 2024). The possibility of disagreeing beautifully often seems to be out of the question, but institution versus individual must surely be one of the least endearing ways to witness conflict. Most “no-nonsense” approaches (to conflict, theology, logistics, etc.) seem to preclude anything beautiful, an indication that beauty as a valuable concept has been relegated to the trash heap of nonsense. As Bishop Barron notes, there is a kind of violence that results from demands regarding goodness and truth when beauty is absent. 

Not many local church buildings can claim the beautiful appeal of a great cathedral. But, as divine image-bearers, we all have beauty within us. Our communities and relationships are our greatest source of beauty. I also think any evangelistic program based on beauty must include a sensitivity to the differences between poetic language, narrative, and discourse (discourse being arguably the least beautiful style of communication). Using poetry and narrative to lean into the power of beauty, and consciously bringing beauty into discourse, would likely benefit Western Christianity. The wonder of being taken out of the normal, expected routine would also seem to be congruent with experiencing unexpected beauty. I’d like to experience church with, as Balthasar suggests, beauty back in its place. I’d like to try to cultivate a beautiful variety of unexpectedness, and therefore anticipation. Could we trust that the most diverse, yet “merely Christian” approach to church might be the most beautiful?

References

Barron, Robert. 2013. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bBMOwZFpZX0

Belz, Emily. 2024. https://www.christianitytoday.com/news/2024/june/pca-investigation-jesus-calling-sarah-young.ht ml

Briones, David. 2020. https://www.desiringgod.org/articles/already-not-yet

Brown, Jeannine K. 2021. Scripture As Communication: Introducing Biblical Hermeneutics. Second edition. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic.

Strauss, Mark L. 2011. How to Read the Bible in Changing Times: Understanding and Applying God’s Word Today. 2nd ed. Grand Rapids: Baker Books.

“America’s criminal justice system has deteriorated to the point that it is a national disgrace. Its irregularities and inequities cut against the notion that we are a society founded on fundamental fairness. Our failure to address this problem has caused the nation’s prisons to burst their seams with massive overcrowding, even as our neighborhoods have become more dangerous. We are wasting billions of dollars and diminishing millions of lives. — Senator Jim Webb, March 3 2009” (Clear 2013, 1).

The questions of whether mass incarceration improves the function of our society and whether it is congruent with our commonly understood national values have complex and varied responses. As the number of incarcerations increased over the last few decades, were communities safer? How do we move from whatever correlations may be noted to the greater certainty of direct causation? Similar complexities arise when the focus turns to the theoretical: can a reprioritization and better appreciation of the interdependence of different values improve things? How do we deal with values that exist in tension with one another while remaining aware of our own biases? How does the totality of scriptural wisdom come to bear on these questions?

“Mass incarceration is arguably the most pressing and protracted social crisis of postindustrial America. The imprisoned population in the United States has exploded from 200,000 people in the early 1970s to 2.3 million people in the first decade of the twenty-first century, including 95,000 youths under the age of eighteen. To accommodate this colossal movement toward confinement, close to one thousand prisons have been built throughout the United States since 1973” (Guenther 2015, 13).

That a self-proclaimed Christian nation should imprison a greater percentage of its own population than India or China (indeed, a greater raw number than either of those more populous countries as well) begs the question: could Christianity have contributed to mass incarceration in America (WPB 2024)? Arguably Christians might be more aware of sin (i.e. crime), but why are they just as incapable as non-Christians (or perhaps moreso) at applying remedies other than punitive ones? How is mass incarceration a theologically justifiable Christian response?

Douglas Campbell, Professor of New Testament at Duke Divinity School, has suggested that the retributive philosophy that dominates the American justice system is mirrored by theological ideas extracted from the first four chapters of the book of Romans. “The law-and-order narrative affirms a state that acts like the God of the gospel of justification, retributively, holding individuals personally—and solely—accountable for what they do, and responding to wrongdoing with punishment” (Campbell 2018). In Romans 1:18 God’s wrath (orgē G3709) is invoked against the wickedness of people. Among the many examples of wickedness listed in this chapter is unmercifulness (aneleēmōn G415) in verse 31. Verse 32 concludes the chapter by asserting that willfully disobedient people deserve death. However, Paul seems to be talking about humanity as a whole here. And if that’s not enough to give pause to those who are anxious to condemn others they perceive as falling below some sort of obedience threshold, Paul reminds the reader of the evil of being unmerciful.

Romans Chapter 2 begins by warning against the passing of judgment on someone else, because to do so would be the same as condemning oneself. However, by verses 7 and 8 a delineation is made. Those who persist in doing good are promised a reward, while those who follow evil and reject the truth are promised anger and wrath. It is clear that God is the judge and will be the one meting out justice. And yet, in Romans 13, we read what appears to be the most undeniable affirmation imaginable of a “divine office” of government: “For the one in authority is God’s servant for your good. But if you do wrong, be afraid, for rulers do not bear the sword for no reason. They are God’s servants, agents of wrath to bring punishment on the wrongdoer. Therefore, it is necessary to submit to the authorities, not only because of possible punishment but also as a matter of conscience” (Romans 13:4-5).

I immediately looked to see if maybe there was some controversy surrounding the inclusion of chapter 13 in the canon. I thought perhaps it may have been added at a later time in some late night council or synod. It’s not particularly easy to take chapter 13 at face value. Those who do right never need worry about unjust responses from rulers… ever? Anywhere or anytime? Pau is not talking about authority as one tool among the many tools of a sovereign God (e.g. Satan, sin, pain, etc), but rather he seems to be teaching that all authority commends righteousness. That’s a tough pill to swallow. It doesn’t pass the congruence test or the common sense test.

There are some places in scripture where what Paul says is not what he means. For example, in 1 Corinthians 6 a variety of translations disagree about where Paul’s literal meaning is being stated versus where he is contrasting his thoughts with Corinthian slogans. The Brazos commentary on 1 Corinthians suggests a reimagining of where quotation marks ought to be placed, depending upon the flow of the argument and the logic of message. This raises the uncomfortable proposition of just how easy it might be to erroneously interpret as good something that Paul has actually intended to be a bad example.

I do not think the issue with 1 Corinthians 6 is what is happening in Romans 13, but it does show how reading Paul the way we might read AI content is not without its problems. The issue with Chapter 13 is not about where quotation marks go, but perhaps it is about a meaning that is more subtle than it appears on the page. T.L. Carter makes a compelling case for the use of irony in Romans 13. “A modern reader acquainted with Paul’s other letters may be excused for wondering whether the apostle himself had not suffered from a severe case of amnesia when he wrote that rulers are not a terror to good conduct… When read against the social context of the original readers of the letter, it is apparent that the way in which political power was exercised in Rome would not have predisposed Paul’s readers to simply accept what the apostle wrote at face value” (Carter 2004). Yet this problematic maxim has certainly been latched onto by some who argue that authorities are always acting in society’s best interests and in accordance with God’s will.

Campbell addresses Romans 5 and 1 Corinthians 6 as he challenges the idea that God is retributive and that the Paul of a literal reading of Romans 13 would want Christians to take each other to court. “And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us. You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous person, though for a good person someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:5-8). “These verses, and this God, are a torpedo through the hull of any gospel construed in terms of justification…” (Campbell 2018). Here Campbell links justification with authoritarianism: Romans 1-4 has context, and to draw out a “Christian” philosophy of law-enforcement based upon the first four chapters alone is to miss that context. Similarly, if Romans 13 is literally, always true, why would Paul warn believers against going to court in 1 Corinthians 6?

If Romans 13 is meant to be ironic to some degree, if Paul’s readers would have literally laughed because Paul’s words were so obviously not literal… then finding congruent meaning with the rest of Romans becomes a more realistic hope. Sometimes it is possible to keep seemingly contradictory ideas in tension with one another, but a gospel that is primarily retributive versus one that is primarily restorative would necessarily affect how we understand the character of Christ.

There is also a fluidity to the idea of what constitutes criminal behavior that brings into question the consistency of our value of fairness for all. The context of any particular cultural moment and what it means for the notion of a jury of one’s peers is always in flux. In the journal Critical Sociology, James Kilgore notes just how quickly monumental decisions can be made that are seen very differently within only a few years. “In the most extreme case, Regina McKnight, an African-American woman, was charged with murder in South Carolina after a stillbirth. A jury deliberated for 15 minutes and found her guilty because she had consumed cocaine while pregnant. She served eight years in prison before a medical examiner concluded that the evidence which linked McKnight’s drug consumption to the infant’s death was ‘outdated’” (Kilgore 2015).

I have never heard America called a “Catholic nation,” as the term Christian tends to be used to describe the Protestant tradition in this country. But in his 2015 visit with Philadelphia prisoners, Pope Francis connected a theological rationale to the restorative justice model. “I am here as a pastor, but above all as a brother, to share your situation and to make it my own… It is painful when we see people who think that only others need to be cleansed, purified, and do not recognize that their weariness, pain and wounds are also the weariness, pain and wounds of society” (Pope Francis 2015). The Greek Orthodox Social Ethos statement, “For The Life of the World,” emphasizes protections such a habeas corpus, but doesn’t seem to be quite as focused on the issue as Rome.

A Christian nation must wrestle with more than Romans 1-4 and Romans 13 when dealing with the morality of mass incarceration. The goal of rehabilitation (restoration) should not only be in the picture, it should be the overarching hope. Punishment alone does not equal justice. We may not be able to identify clear causation relationships in practical terms, but the theory and theology supporting mass incarceration is not above criticism. A Christian nation may struggle to implement these sensibilities, but perhaps it starts at the Christian church level. Retribution is not how the Trinity functions within Itself; it should not be how any community of believers functions, either.

References

Campbell, Douglas A. 2018. “Mass Incarceration: Pauline Problems and Pauline Solutions.” Interpretation (Richmond) 72, no. 3: 282–92. https://doi.org/10.1177/0020964318766297.

Carter, T.L.“The Irony of Romans 13.” Novum Testamentum 46, no. 3 (January 1, 2004): 209–28. https://doi.org/10.1163/1568536041528213.

Clear, Todd R, and Natasha A Frost. 2013. The Punishment Imperative : The Rise and Failure of Mass Incarceration in America. New York, NY: New York University Press. https://doi.org/10.18574/9781479829026.

Guenther, Lisa. 2015. Death and Other Penalties : Philosophy in a Time of Mass Incarceration. Edited by Geoffrey Adelsberg, Lisa Guenther, and Scott C. Zeman. First edition. New York, New York: Fordham University Press. https://doi.org/10.1515/9780823265329.

Kilgore, James. 2015. “Mass Incarceration: Examining and Moving Beyond the New Jim Crow.” Critical Sociology 41, no. 2: 283–95. https://doi.org/10.1177/0896920513509821.

Pope Francis, FaithND. Notre Dame University.

https://faith.nd.edu/s/1210/faith/interior.aspx?sid=1210&gid=609&pgid=27569 WPB, n.d. https://www.prisonstudies.org/country/united-states-america.