Thomas Talbott on the parallels between God's love for humans and a parent's love for a child

I’m reading back through Thomas Talbott’s The Inescapable Love of God, and I love this bit of reasoning about what it means to love and be in relationship:

Jesus’ interests are so tightly interwoven with those of his own loved ones that, if we do something to them, it is as if we have done it to him; and God’s interests are likewise so tightly interwoven with those of his loved ones that, as a matter of logic, we cannot love God and at the same time hate those whose God loves. Indeed if we say that we love God whilst hating some of our brothers and sisters, then we are liars. But the reverse is true as well: just as we cannot love God and hate those whom he loves, neither can God love us and, at the same time, hate those whom we love. If I truly love my daughter as myself, then God cannot love (or will the best for) me unless he also loves (or wills the best for) her. For I am not an isolated monad whose interests are distinct from those of my loved ones, and neither is anyone else. If God should do less than his best for my daughter, he would also do less than his best for me; and if he should act contrary to her best interest, he would also act contrary to my own.

Talbott’s paralleling the human parent/child relationship with the God/human relationship is what really brought it home for me on a first read. He makes it quite explicit here:

An additional point is this: so long as I love my daughter as myself, I can neither love God nor worship him unless I at least believe that he loves my daughter as well; the idea that I could both love my daughter and love a God whom I know to hate her is also logically absurd… If I truly love my daughter, desiring the good for her, and God doesn’t to, then (a) my will is not in conformity with God’s, (b) I could not consistently approve of God’s attitude toward my daughter, and (c) neither could I be grateful to him for the harm he is doing to me. This is not merely to register a point about my own psychological makeup; the whole thing, I want to suggested, is logically impossible.

I agree.

Gospel or Grift?

One more quote from David W. Congdon’s Varieties of Christian Universalism, this one from Congdon himself:

There are few ideas more distinctively Christian than the assumption that our theologies ought to reinforce our own rightness in practicing this particular religion, whether through apologetic efforts to “prove” the truth of our doctrines or kerygmatic efforts to scare people into conversion by proclaiming the ungodly terrors that await them if they should fail to say a magical prayer or participate in an enchanted ritual.

The moment a theologian comes along and announces this to be a bunch of immoral hogwash, they are lambasted for destroying any rationale for faith. Which is truly a remarkable admission. The implication is that no one would be a Christian if they were not forced into it, either intellectually or emotionally—or, in the case of colonialism, physically. Christians who are invested in the evangelistic spread of their religion would do well to think long and hard about where this anxiety comes from and what it says about the god they claim to believe in. When any theology that does not support the agenda of ever-increasing church growth and missionary expansion is treated as a threat to the faith, it is hard not to conclude that said faith is less of a gospel and more of a grift–a spiritual multi-level marketing scheme.

Food for thought.

Jersak: the immutability and impassability of God's love

Just after posting yesterday and mentioning Thomas J. Oord in passing, Bradley Jersak’s “Cordial Pushback” on relational/open theology hit my inbox. While I’m not deeply enough into open theology or process theology to have an informed opinion on a lot of what Jersak’s saying, I did particularly appreciate this point he made about the love of God:

The biggest stumbling stones for RT [relational theology] teachers seem to be words such as immutability (that God’s essence doesn’t change) and impassibility (that God is not subject to fleshly passions). These terms have nuanced definitions that need to be handled with care lest we misrepresent them.

First, what is immutable? God’s love. God’s love is immutable in the sense of that God’s covenants are marked by faithfulness versus fickleness. He is not like other gods who turn away or turn against their subjects on a whim. The doctrine of immutability insists that God’s love is constant and infinite—always higher, wider, longer, and deeper than our comprehension. Thus, God’s love does not rise and fall or come and go—God’s love is an ever-flowing spring that never runs out.

Further, God’s love is impassible. This does not mean God is unfeeling or unresponsive (like cold, hard granite). No. We never say that. Rather, this means that the ever-flowing spring of God’s love is not conditional on our response. God’s mercy is not turned on and off by our behaviour. Nothing can separate us from divine love.

When God sees and hears our cries, we do see a response of compassion and care, where God ‘comes down’ to help. BUT that response arises from God’s own heart, from the depths of God’s loving nature. He is responsive, not reactive, and consistent rather than codependent. Simply put, impassibility means that God’s love is not subject to or jerked around by our passions. In Christ, we see the nature of God as empathetic (co-suffering) and Cyril will say he ‘suffered impassibly’—meaning voluntarily rather than constrained.

Just beautiful.

Theology from love or terror?

A couple dots I connected yesterday: while the explicit evangelical gospel message I grew up with was very clearly taught in church as salvation by grace through faith in Jesus, via no merit of my own, the implicit message in all the community discussions was that salvation was only assured if your doctrine, and your ability to verbalize that doctrine, were good enough.

My grandparents on both sides were lifelong faithful practicing Christians, Methodist and Lutheran. And yet I remember my parents’ agonized discussions about whether or not those grandparents’ salvation “was genuine” because they didn’t articulate clearly the concept of “lordship salvation”.

Which leads me to wondering this morning: did I become a theology nerd because I was just really interested in God and religious beliefs? Or did I become a theology nerd out of some below-the-surface existential fear for my eternal damnation?

As I near age 50 it’s time to make lemonade out of those lemons, regardless. But it’s a sobering question.

A few belated thoughts on Charlie Kirk

It’s been not even three weeks yet since Charlie Kirk was assassinated in Utah. It’s been an eternity in news cycles, though. Once the mega-(maga)-political-rally-memorial-service was held, the focus has moved on to other political news. And, sadly, several other shootings.

In the immediate aftermath of Kirk’s death I saw a big split in reactions between the evangelical world I grew up in and the more liberal world I now inhabit. And while my personal goal is for people to not have to defend things I say with “well, if you look at it in context, what he said was actually ok”, with a little distance and time to think about it I understand a little better, I think, why and how this split exists.

I didn’t follow Charlie Kirk closely. But as I have watched some of his videos in the past few weeks, one primary thought strikes me: that Kirk was the perfect distillation of the evangelical Christian apologist that the Evangelical system has been trying to produce since at least as far back as the 1980s. Watch his videos and you’ll see a familiar persuasive approach, aggressively encouraging “debate”, but in a format designed not to carefully engage debate partners in thoughtful discourse, but to quickly score points, make his opponents look foolish, and have a punchy sound bite that can go on social media.

He was by no means the first

I’m reminded of being shown hours of Ken Ham “creation science” videos at church when I was in middle school and high school. In similar style, Ham, a man with only a Bachelors’ degree in applied science, blithely disregards and ignores reams of actual scientific study, packaging his “proofs” of a young earth in sound bites that don’t hold up to extended scrutiny. He doesn’t intend them to! Instead, he brings his silver bullet question for any dispute about origins: “were you there?” It’s a silly, rhetorical question. Of course his debate partner wasn’t present at the origin of the universe. Neither was Ham. But then Ham follows up with the comeback designed to win points not with his scientific debate partner, but with the evangelicals in the audience: “well, I know someone who was there and who wrote down what happened in a book”.

Boom. Debate me, bro. Prove me wrong.

Intentionally pushing aside centuries of scientific study and Biblical scholarship, Ham achieves his goal (locking in his evangelical Christian audience and getting them to buy his books and visit the Ark Encounter) while making a case that looks frightfully flimsy to anyone who isn’t already bought into his religious and philosophical presuppositions. Ham famously debated Bill Nye back in 2014 and used those exact tactics. It wasn’t pretty. Or persuasive to anyone who didn’t already agree with him.

Ken Ham is but one example of this evangelical approach. Josh McDowell kicked off a long authoring career with his bestseller Evidence That Demands a Verdict, piecing together fragmentary “evidence” in ways that serious scholars found troubling but that were gobbled up by Evangelicals and fundamentalists who wanted some self-justification that their fundamentalist Christian beliefs weren’t stupid, no matter what the scholars said.

McDowell extended his audience down to the youth back when I was in high school. His book Don’t Check Your Brains At The Door addressed 42 questions in a slim 200 pages to help assure evangelical Christian youth that their high school teachers and college professors were dreadfully off base if they disagreed with Christian beliefs. Careful study and thoughtful, careful engagement? Who needs it? 3-4 paperback pages of talking points will provide the armor to defend against any professor’s “facts” and “science”.

The purpose of a system is what it does

So in one sense I don’t want to blame Charlie Kirk much for turning out in the style he did. He’s the product of a system that’s been encouraging this approach for generations now. I grew up in it, too. I saw the appeal. I can only imagine the rush of being really good at it, of having the tools to package it for social media, to gain a huge following so quickly. I can only wish that he would’ve had more years and the opportunity to learn the value of slower, loving, thoughtful engagement. Of discussions packaged not for social media likes but for actual learning and growth and intellectual honesty. To find a gospel engagement more meaningful than “boom, roasted! hey, turn to Jesus”. Because there is a more excellent way.

Beyond Justification: Campbell and DePue with a lovely new read of Romans

I don’t even remember where I found the recommendation for Douglas Campbell & Jon DePue’s book Beyond Justification, but first it languished for a while on my Amazon wish list, and then it languished for a while on my to-read bookshelf. But now that I’ve finished it, I’m wondering why in the world it took me so long to pick it up. Campbell, a professor of New Testament at Duke Divinity School, and DePue, an educator and former student of Campbell’s, team up here to write a very accessible theological work that is a revelation when it comes to justification theory as addressed by Paul.

In Beyond Justification, Campbell and DePue start by outlining their view of the story of salvation: of being “in Christ” (a phrase they say Paul uses nearly 160 times in the NT), of a God who loves humanity and wants to be reconciled. Then, in chapter 4, they recognize what they call the “great conundrum” of justification theory in the sense set out by people like John Piper. (Piper’s position is used as the debating partner throughout the book.) The conundrum, they say, is that for about 90% of what Paul writes, we get from him the view of God and salvation in the loving, reconciliatory vein they describe up front. But in the other 10% of Paul we get language that tempts us toward Piper’s interpretation: God as primarily holy, angry against sin, and salvation through judicial satisfaction via Jesus’ unmerited death. How do we reconcile these?

They spend the rest of the book first by examining different 20th century approaches to this problem, including chapters devoted to E. P. Sanders, J. D. G. Dunn, and N. T. Wright. (What is it with all these theologians going with their initials?) Then, one chapter at a time, they do analysis on each of the first three chapters of Romans and then Romans 10.

Why is this such good news?

There’s way too much to try to sum up in a blog post, but the key interpretive move they make here (which makes a lot of sense to me) is suggesting that Romans 1-3 consists not of one long Pauline excursus, but rather a hypothetical conversation between Paul and a Jewish Christian teacher whose teaching Paul is opposing. This Q&A format was a common Greek discussion pattern, and while it’s not easily discernible in the text, the authors suggest that this conversation between Paul and the Teacher would’ve been performed by the messenger who brought Paul’s letter to its audience and read it to them.

As proposed here, the Teacher’s argument is that salvation must come through the law, and that unbelievers and Gentiles have a natural understanding of their own sin and need for God’s forgiveness, but that they reject God and therefore are deserving of judgment. Paul objects, saying that no one can be saved by the law, but that salvation is by being in Christ at the mercy of a loving God.

The Conversation

Here’s a taste of how it lays out:

Paul: “I am not ashamed of the gospel; it is God’s saving power for everyone who believes, for the Jew first and also for the Greek. For in it the deliverance of God is revealed through faith for faith, as it is written, ‘The Righteous One through faith will live.’” (Rom 1:16-17)

The Teacher: “For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all the ungodliness and injustice of those who by their injustice suppress the truth. For what can be known about God is plain to them, because God has made it plain to them… So they are without excuse, for though they knew God they did not honor him as God or give thanks to him…” (Rom 1:18ff, they suggest The Teacher’s discourse goes all the way through verse 32)

Paul: “Therefore, oh man, you, along with all who are judging, are without excuse! For in passing judgment on one another you condemn yourself, because you, the judge, are doing the very same things… For a person is not a Jew who is one outwardly, nor is circumcision something external and physical. Rather, a person is a Jew who is one inwardly, and circumcision is a matter of the heart, by the Spirit, not the written code. (All of Romans 2)”

Then Paul interrogates The Teacher’s view that salvation comes through following the Jewish law.

Paul: Then what advantage has the Jew? Or what is the value of circumcision?

Teacher: Much, in every way. For in the first place, the Jews were entrusted with the oracles of God.”

Paul: What if some were unfaithful? Will their faithlessness nullify the faithfulness of God?

Teacher: By no means! Although every human is a liar, let God be proved true, as it is written, “So that you may be justified in your words and you will prevail when you go to trial.”

Paul: But if our injustice services to confirm the justice of God, what should we say? That God is unjust to inflict wrath on us? (I speak in a human way.)

Teacher: By no means! For then how could God judge the world?

Paul: But if through my falsehood God’s truthfulness abounds to his glory, why am I still being judged as a sinner? And why not say (as some people slander us by saying that we say), “Let us do evil so that good may come”?

Teacher: Their judgement is deserved!

Paul: What then? Are we any better off?

Teacher: No, not in every respect…

Paul: We charge that all, both Jews and Greeks, are under the power of sin… Now we know that, whatever the law says, it speaks to those who are under the law, so that every mouth may be silenced and the whole world may be held accountable to God. For no human will be justified before him by deeds prescribed by the law, for through the law comes the knowledge of sin.

If you’ve gotten this far in the post, just go read the book.

I mean, seriously, it’s worth a read. Campbell and DePue carefully explain how they see each part of Paul’s argument working out in Romans 1-3 and Romans 10, and put the pieces together to demonstrate how, in this interpretation, the judgmental “10%” texts in Romans don’t need to cause anyone hesitation; that we can rely fully on the 90% of Paul that tells us of a loving reconciliation through the power of Jesus’ resurrection.

Hey, it's another book club (of sorts)...

Spent 90 minutes tonight on a Zoom call with a (mostly) local “Christophany group” - a collection of 15 or so who are currently discussing The Not-Yet God by Ilia Delio at the (quite reasonable) pace of one chapter per month. The group appears to come from a variety of religious backgrounds, but is united in the goal of communal reflection on the insights of Teilhard de Chardin, Ilia Delio and similar thinkers.

As someone who’s been fascinated by Delio’s work for the past few years, this group is a godsend. Thoroughly enjoyed the discussion, already looking forward to next month.

If humans hadn't sinned, would Christ have still come?

I love this bit from Ilia Delio in The Not-Yet God, summarizing a thought from Franciscan theologian Duns Scotus:

The reason for the incarnation, then, is not sin but love. Christ is first in God’s intention to love. The incarnation is the unrepeatable, unique, and single defining act of God’s love. Thus, even if sin had not entered the universe through the human person, Christ would have come.

That’s good news, my friends.

Freedom from the compulsion to pretend: Mtr. Kelli Joyce on gender traditions and the fruit of the spirit

Continuing from yesterday’s post, I want to excerpt one more wonderful section from the conversation between Fr. David W. Johnston and Mtr. Kelli Joyce. This time it’s about ’traditional masculinity’, freedom in Christ, human flourishing, and the Fruit of the Spirit. (Emphasis throughout is mine.)

Johnston: And so what I hear you saying is that for for any any young men who might be watching this, if you want to if you want to go have a beer with your friends and tell jokes, do it unto the glory of God, right?

Joyce: Absolutely. I mean, this is the thing. Jokes are great. Cruelty is not. You can do unfunny cruelty and you can do uncruel jokes, right? A cold one with the bros? Go for it.

Johnston: With any of those things that are traditionally masculine or feminine, like you know, if you like working out or mixed martial arts, I mean, yeah, that’s fine. Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, self-control.

Joyce: No one thing can get a seal of approval as “that’s good” or “that’s bad”. That’s the whole point of the freedom in Christ: I can’t tell you for sure if beer and jokes are fine because it might be and might not be depending on how you’re doing it, who you’re doing it with, what your relationship to alcohol is, you know, these kinds of things. Same with mixed martial arts or whatever. If you are doing it from a place that is compatible with those fruits of the spirit, do it to the glory of God. And if you’re doing it in some way that is making you less joyful or making you afraid or making you feel insecure, right, then those are things to look at, not because mixed martial arts is bad, right? But because God wants you to have abundant life.

Johnston: From my point of view as somebody who in a lot of ways embodies a lot of very stereotypical uh, masculine traits, still remember like wondering like, well, is there something wrong with me? Cuz I could not care less about cars. I have a son who’s like, “Oh, that’s a cool car.” And I’m like so bored. I’m like, “My favorite car is affordable, predictable, good gas mileage, public transportation.”

…What I see that’s getting coded or trying to Trojan horse into some of that “this is traditional masculinity” is a pass for things that are not the fruit of the spirit. For cruelty, demeaning people, pride, looking at women with lust, you know objects to puff up male pride… I think Christianity does offer us a way of life like you’re talking about, that abundant life. And so that if one wants to embrace very traditional masculinity or femininity, that is okay. And Jesus has shown us what that looks like. Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, gentleness, self-control.

Joyce: I think that sometimes there is slippage between conversations about what kind of person one may be, is allowed to be, and what kind of person one must be. I think for me the important thing is of course there’s room to like cars, but there’s room to not like cars. The thing that is important is not that one deny interests because they’re masculine or pretend to have them because they’re masculine. Right? Like, what if we could be free of feeling compulsion to pretend in either direction, right? That we don’t like what we do, that we do like what we don’t. What if we were our whole, full, authentic selves, exactly as we were created to be, in relationship, but not competing and not trying to become someone over and against somebody else, just being who we are?

Mtr. Kelli Joyce on the Fruit of the Spirit and gender expression

If you’ve got 45 minutes to listen to a couple Episcopal priests talk about Galatians, the Fruit of the Spirit, and gender expression, by all means spend it on this video:

Fr. David W. Johnston and Mtr. Kelli Joyce have some wonderful thoughts here. There are a couple portions I want to highlight over a couple of blog posts. First, on the “crisis of masculinity” and gender expression, here’s what Mtr. Kelli has to say (36:40 - 39:00 in the video, minor transcript edits for clarity, emphasis mine):

In terms of the crisis of masculinity, it seems like this could be understood almost like how Paul talks about the law. There was this thing that was provided when we needed it, which told us “here’s how you be”. And now there’s freedom, and it’s a freedom we didn’t have before, which is not some new homogenized other way of being that says you have to stop being everything you were, but that says what is important here is that whatever you are is following Christ.

And so I think, to me, I think that there are healthy and Christ-honoring ways of expressing something that looks like traditional masculinity, and healthy and Christ-honoring ways of expressing something that looks very much like traditional femininity. I think that there are sinful and sin-warped ways of doing both of those things. And so what seems important to me is not about pursuing or avoiding a certain kind of gender expression, or restraining that to a certain kind of person or a certain kind of body, but about saying “who has God made me to be?”, “what brings me joy?”, “What feels like I am living out the self I was given by God in creation?”, and “how does that enable me, personally, in my context as who I am, from where I’m standing, to follow Christ?”.

So, to me, there can be virtuous masculinity, virtuous femininity, kind of a virtuous gender neutrality. But the important piece there is the virtue, and not that there is some sort of binding need to have one or the other kind of gender expression. Because nobody has a perfectly anything gender expression. Everybody has traits that are from a mix of these two big categories that we talk about and think about. And that’s OK. In Christ those things are not what define our relationship to God or our relationship to other members of the body. It is who we are together by the power of the Spirit.

Yes and amen.