Posts
In my post, Eschatological Inclusivism, I write: "The Bible often presents God acting and the church joining him in what he is doing. That differs somewhat from how many present witnessing--as doing God's work for him, or, more precisely, as being the sole means by which God does his work."
I've encountered the motif of joining God in what he's doing at various points in my life. When I was at DePauw, I was part of an evangelical Bible study group. The leader was somewhat of a Christian exclusivist, for he believed that one had to believe in Christ to be saved (though I think he made an exception for little children). But he also thought that God was all around him, communicating who he is to sinful humanity. For him, God could convey his inviting love in a Catholic service, a mainline Protestant service, a Unitarian Universalist service, and even a classroom. No, my friend didn't believe in many paths to God, for he was clear that Jesus was the only way. But he did think that God was continually beaming messages to humanity about what he was like. And how could God not? He's such a big God, and he's concerned about all his creation.
I encountered that idea at Harvard as well. I was in a class with a group of evangelicals, and one of them was a pastor of a charismatic church. A little old lady who was auditing the class asked him what God thought about Muslims, and he responded that God may be communicating to them who he is through their worship, since God is love. That didn't exactly mesh with a "the whole world is blinded by Satan" idea (which crops up a lot in the Bible), but it did present God as one who cares for all of his creation, even people in the non-Christian world.
Before I attended Harvard, I went through a workbook written by Henry Blackaby, a Southern Baptist. The book was entitled, Experiencing God: Knowing and Doing the Will of God. I had questions about why God spoke to some Christians and not others (me), and someone recommended this book to me.
Blackaby outlines a few basic principles, and one of them is that God is at work around me and wants me to join him in what he is doing. According to Blackaby, the Bible is clear that human beings do not seek after God, at least not by themselves (Romans 3:11). Consequently, if someone is seeking after God (i.e., asking spiritual questions), that indicates God is at work on that person's heart (see John 6:44). God then wants to use Christians to answer his or her spiritual questions.
My hunch is that Blackaby's book is pretty popular, for, when I went to the Harvard Divinity School Christian Fellowship, one of the women prayed, "Father, help us to identify where you are working and join you in that." I wonder where she got that idea.
My problem is that the model may not work as neatly as advertised. Sure, God's in the business of creating churches and Bible study groups and drawing lots of people to them. I've seen that happen, especially at DePauw. But not everyone who asks spiritual questions is interested in hearing about evangelicalism or fundamentalist Christianity. Many of them have probably already had experiences with those belief systems, plus they may be looking elsewhere for answers.
There were Christians within the HDS Christian Fellowship Group who recognized this. The year I dropped out of the group, a girl asked what its mission should be at its very first meeting for the school year. The sponsor then replied, "There are many people who come to the Divinity school because they're spiritually searching. But, for some reason, they don't think that the God of Jesus Christ is the answer to their search. Maybe they had a bad experience, I don't know." Essentially, HDS Christian Fellowship wanted to show unbelievers that Christ contained the answers they were seeking. Its tactics included being nice to non-Christians and one another, inviting respected evangelical speakers to the campus, trying to distance themselves from Falwell's 9/11 remarks, etc.
Did they succeed? I don't know. I can testify that, when I was at Harvard, a lot of evangelicals were there. That's a notable contrast from the Harvard Divinity School of the 1960's, 1970's, 1980's, and maybe even the 1990's. Was God bringing Christians to Harvard so they could be salt and light to unbelievers? Was that God at work? I don't know.
Another place I encountered the concept of "God at work" was in Harvey Cox's 1965 classic, The Secular City. For Cox, God is actively bringing justice into the world (the kingdom of God), and Christians should join God in what he is doing. Genesis 2 presents man as a co-creator with God, since God gives man the task of naming the animals, which is a creative activity.
I wonder specifically how Cox thinks God is working in the world. Do humans have to generate social justice by the sheer force of their will, as they get off their rear ends and actually do something? Or is God himself creating the currents of justice--by stirring people up to do his will, or by providentially arranging events in a just direction? Who creates the raging river of justice: us or God? Do we join God in something he's already doing, or does God expect us to do his work for him?
I don't know. Maybe it's a little of both! We see incidents in the Bible in which God stirs people to do something through his Holy Spirit (e.g., Samson, Cyrus, the post-exilic Jews who lacked a temple, etc.). In such cases, God creates an intense desire in people to do his will. Yet, he does not hesitate to put his people on a guilt trip! The Book of Haggai is a good example of this: "Is it a time for you yourselves to live in your paneled houses, while this house lies in ruins?" (Haggai 1:4 NRSV).
As I read The Secular City, I thought about a point that Michael John Carley made in Asperger's from the Inside Out. According to Carley, society is naturally progressive. In the past, African-Americans were treated as sub-human. Now, an African-American is running for President. And so Carley envisions a future society in which people with Asperger's will find acceptance and appreciation. And he's not being utopian: he truly expects society to become more accepting as it learns about the condition, since it has progressed in a number of other areas (e.g., race, gender, sexual orientation, etc.).
Is God at work in human society, making it more and more just? I doubt that conservative Christians will view acceptance of homosexuality as something God favors. But could God be responsible for other aspects of society's progress? Is God creating a current that he wants us to be part of?
In some cases, God may set the stage for his activity. Right now, I write about my Asperger's. I wouldn't have been able to do that several years ago, when few people knew what Asperger's was. I'm joining a current that already exists. Yet, there were people who started the current. Maybe God blessed their efforts, since it takes luck to make a splash in today's world!
Many Christians believe that other religions can be a preparation for Christianity. I just finished Joseph Campbell's book on primitive mythology, which argues that many pre-Christian and non-Christian cultures had a concept of resurrection on the third day. Was God preparing them for the coming of Christ? Christianity can only make sense to people when it fits within some frame of reference. Did God providentially arrange that frame of reference, as Ben Witherington once argued?
Who does the work: God or us? Does God create the current when it comes to evangelism and social justice, or do we? Are we joining God in what he's already doing, or are we doing his work for him? Maybe it's a little of both.
Monday, July 21, 2008
Eschatological Inclusivism
Does God depend entirely upon Christians to accomplish his work? This question enters my mind a lot when I think about witnessing. When I was at Harvard, I was reading the Book of Isaiah for my weekly quiet time. Isaiah has a very universalist vision of eschatology--and "universalist" here doesn't mean that he thinks everyone will be saved. Rather, it describes his conviction that people from many nations will worship the God of Israel after he restores his people to their land.
Isaiah was very inclusivist. So is Psalms. So are other books. When I read the Bible, one image of God that I encounter is one who cares for all of his creation. This God will create a situation in which everyone recognizes that he is God and receives an opportunity to worship him. In the prophets, that situation is usually the restoration of the Israelites to their land. In the days of the Hebrew Bible, people often evaluated the worth of a god according to the experiences of his nation. Within the ancient Near Eastern mindset, if a country lost a war, that could be a sign that its god wasn't all that powerful. But if a country got restored, that said a lot about its god. Other nations then took notice!
The Bible speaks about numerous people worshipping the one true God, almost in cosmic terms. But so many human beings in God's creation do not know God, according to the Christian concept of "knowing" him. At the present time, Christians do not make up the majority of the world's population. This was especially evident to me at Harvard Divinity School, where I encountered Jews and Muslims and Buddhists and atheists and people who didn't know what they were. And imagine going to a school in which Christians are actually a tiny minority. That's what Jewish Theological Seminary was like!
There are people who believe that God is accomplishing his universal outreach through the church. Isaiah talks about the nations going to Jerusalem to learn about God (e.g., Isaiah 2). According to many Christians, God is currently fulfilling this vision through Christian missions. And there are proof-texts that back up this claim.
Acts 15:14-18 states: "Simeon has related how God first looked favorably on the Gentiles, to take from among them a people for his name. This agrees with the words of the prophets, as it is written, 'After this I will return, and I will rebuild the dwelling of David, which has fallen; from its ruins I will rebuild it, and I will set it up, so that all other peoples may seek the Lord-- even all the Gentiles over whom my name has been called. Thus says the Lord, who has been making these things known from long ago.'"
James is citing Amos 9:11-12, which (in the Greek) presents the usual prophetic scenario: God politically restores his people, then the nations come to Israel to worship him. But James says that this passage is being fulfilled in his time, despite Israel's subjugation at the hands of the Romans. God has sent his Messiah, Jesus Christ, which fulfills the part about God rebuilding the dwelling of David. And the Gentiles are coming to God through his Messiah.
That's how Luke/Acts seems to treat these types of prophecies, period. The Hebrew prophets focus on Jerusalem as an important place in the Gentiles' reception of God. And, in Luke 24:47, Jesus says the Scriptures predict "that repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem." For Luke's Jesus, these prophecies are being fulfilled in the mission of the church, which proclaims Christ to all the world.
In Romans 15, Paul is encouraging Jewish and Gentile Christians to get along better. In vv 8-12, he offers a Scriptural basis for this: "For I tell you that Christ has become a servant of the circumcised on behalf of the truth of God in order that he might confirm the promises given to the patriarchs, and in order that the Gentiles might glorify God for his mercy. As it is written, 'Therefore I will confess you among the Gentiles, and sing praises to your name'; and again he says, 'Rejoice, O Gentiles, with his people'; and again, 'Praise the Lord, all you Gentiles, and let all the peoples praise him'; and again Isaiah says, 'The root of Jesse shall come, the one who rises to rule the Gentiles; in him the Gentiles shall hope.'"
Paul draws on inclusivist passages in the Psalms and the prophets to argue that the Gentiles' inclusion in the church fulfills God's plan. He specifically cites Isaiah 11:10, which occurs in the context of God restoring the Israelites from exile and establishing a reign of peace. For Paul, the part about the Gentiles coming to God was being fulfilled in his day.
My Armstrongite background always applied these prophetic passages to the future, as in after the second coming of Christ. At that time, Armstrongites argue, Christ will set up a worldwide kingdom and give everyone an opportunity to repent, even if they didn't accept Jesus before their deaths. Right now, a lot of people don't know which religion is the correct one. In that day, it will be obvious!
Personally, I think that the Armstrongite view is more consistent with the original intent of the Hebrew prophets, even though I don't think they envisioned a "second resurrection" in which God would offer post-mortem salvation opportunities. In my opinion, they believed that God would tangibly demonstrate that he is the one true God, prompting even the pagan Gentiles to believe in his name. Missouri is the "Show me" state. Well, according to the Hebrew prophets, God would show the Gentiles that he is God.
In some sense, that happened in the first century C.E., for the church did signs and wonders that made the Gentiles open to the Gospel. The church wasn't doing all of God's work, for God was acting as well. When the Spirit made the Gentiles speak in tongues, that wasn't Peter's doing! Peter was as surprised by it as everyone else! Even in Acts, God is tangibly showing the Gentiles that he is God.
But is that occurring today? I don't rule it out totally, for God still does miracles. Plus, I acknowledge that many people are turning from the power of darkness to the kingdom of light. But I still have problems asserting that the grand, inclusivist promises of the prophets are being fulfilled today through the mission of the church, especially when most people in the world do not believe in Christ, and Christianity appears to be just one option among many. And, yet, I cannot blow off the New Testament witness that the church is part of the fulfillment of those prophetic expectations.
At the same time, I don't rule out that God will one day act in a way that brings many people to him. Revelation 11:13 says, "At that moment there was a great earthquake, and a tenth of the city fell; seven thousand people were killed in the earthquake, and the rest were terrified and gave glory to the God of heaven." Revelation 15:4 has, "Lord, who will not fear and glorify your name? For you alone are holy. All nations will come and worship before you, for your judgments have been revealed." God's judgments will shake up a lot of people to recognize God and give him glory. There will come a time when God will rely on more than the church to get his point across!
And, in its own eschatological scenario, Revelation seems to echo the Hebrew prophets in that it envisions a place for the nations in God's future paradise (21:24-26; 22:2). So can we rule out Isaiah 2 being future, just because the New Testament says that the church is fulfilling it? Perhaps not.
The Bible often presents God acting and the church joining him in what he is doing. That differs somewhat from how many present witnessing--as doing God's work for him, or, more precisely, as being the sole means by which God does his work. But more on that next time!
Isaiah was very inclusivist. So is Psalms. So are other books. When I read the Bible, one image of God that I encounter is one who cares for all of his creation. This God will create a situation in which everyone recognizes that he is God and receives an opportunity to worship him. In the prophets, that situation is usually the restoration of the Israelites to their land. In the days of the Hebrew Bible, people often evaluated the worth of a god according to the experiences of his nation. Within the ancient Near Eastern mindset, if a country lost a war, that could be a sign that its god wasn't all that powerful. But if a country got restored, that said a lot about its god. Other nations then took notice!
The Bible speaks about numerous people worshipping the one true God, almost in cosmic terms. But so many human beings in God's creation do not know God, according to the Christian concept of "knowing" him. At the present time, Christians do not make up the majority of the world's population. This was especially evident to me at Harvard Divinity School, where I encountered Jews and Muslims and Buddhists and atheists and people who didn't know what they were. And imagine going to a school in which Christians are actually a tiny minority. That's what Jewish Theological Seminary was like!
There are people who believe that God is accomplishing his universal outreach through the church. Isaiah talks about the nations going to Jerusalem to learn about God (e.g., Isaiah 2). According to many Christians, God is currently fulfilling this vision through Christian missions. And there are proof-texts that back up this claim.
Acts 15:14-18 states: "Simeon has related how God first looked favorably on the Gentiles, to take from among them a people for his name. This agrees with the words of the prophets, as it is written, 'After this I will return, and I will rebuild the dwelling of David, which has fallen; from its ruins I will rebuild it, and I will set it up, so that all other peoples may seek the Lord-- even all the Gentiles over whom my name has been called. Thus says the Lord, who has been making these things known from long ago.'"
James is citing Amos 9:11-12, which (in the Greek) presents the usual prophetic scenario: God politically restores his people, then the nations come to Israel to worship him. But James says that this passage is being fulfilled in his time, despite Israel's subjugation at the hands of the Romans. God has sent his Messiah, Jesus Christ, which fulfills the part about God rebuilding the dwelling of David. And the Gentiles are coming to God through his Messiah.
That's how Luke/Acts seems to treat these types of prophecies, period. The Hebrew prophets focus on Jerusalem as an important place in the Gentiles' reception of God. And, in Luke 24:47, Jesus says the Scriptures predict "that repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem." For Luke's Jesus, these prophecies are being fulfilled in the mission of the church, which proclaims Christ to all the world.
In Romans 15, Paul is encouraging Jewish and Gentile Christians to get along better. In vv 8-12, he offers a Scriptural basis for this: "For I tell you that Christ has become a servant of the circumcised on behalf of the truth of God in order that he might confirm the promises given to the patriarchs, and in order that the Gentiles might glorify God for his mercy. As it is written, 'Therefore I will confess you among the Gentiles, and sing praises to your name'; and again he says, 'Rejoice, O Gentiles, with his people'; and again, 'Praise the Lord, all you Gentiles, and let all the peoples praise him'; and again Isaiah says, 'The root of Jesse shall come, the one who rises to rule the Gentiles; in him the Gentiles shall hope.'"
Paul draws on inclusivist passages in the Psalms and the prophets to argue that the Gentiles' inclusion in the church fulfills God's plan. He specifically cites Isaiah 11:10, which occurs in the context of God restoring the Israelites from exile and establishing a reign of peace. For Paul, the part about the Gentiles coming to God was being fulfilled in his day.
My Armstrongite background always applied these prophetic passages to the future, as in after the second coming of Christ. At that time, Armstrongites argue, Christ will set up a worldwide kingdom and give everyone an opportunity to repent, even if they didn't accept Jesus before their deaths. Right now, a lot of people don't know which religion is the correct one. In that day, it will be obvious!
Personally, I think that the Armstrongite view is more consistent with the original intent of the Hebrew prophets, even though I don't think they envisioned a "second resurrection" in which God would offer post-mortem salvation opportunities. In my opinion, they believed that God would tangibly demonstrate that he is the one true God, prompting even the pagan Gentiles to believe in his name. Missouri is the "Show me" state. Well, according to the Hebrew prophets, God would show the Gentiles that he is God.
In some sense, that happened in the first century C.E., for the church did signs and wonders that made the Gentiles open to the Gospel. The church wasn't doing all of God's work, for God was acting as well. When the Spirit made the Gentiles speak in tongues, that wasn't Peter's doing! Peter was as surprised by it as everyone else! Even in Acts, God is tangibly showing the Gentiles that he is God.
But is that occurring today? I don't rule it out totally, for God still does miracles. Plus, I acknowledge that many people are turning from the power of darkness to the kingdom of light. But I still have problems asserting that the grand, inclusivist promises of the prophets are being fulfilled today through the mission of the church, especially when most people in the world do not believe in Christ, and Christianity appears to be just one option among many. And, yet, I cannot blow off the New Testament witness that the church is part of the fulfillment of those prophetic expectations.
At the same time, I don't rule out that God will one day act in a way that brings many people to him. Revelation 11:13 says, "At that moment there was a great earthquake, and a tenth of the city fell; seven thousand people were killed in the earthquake, and the rest were terrified and gave glory to the God of heaven." Revelation 15:4 has, "Lord, who will not fear and glorify your name? For you alone are holy. All nations will come and worship before you, for your judgments have been revealed." God's judgments will shake up a lot of people to recognize God and give him glory. There will come a time when God will rely on more than the church to get his point across!
And, in its own eschatological scenario, Revelation seems to echo the Hebrew prophets in that it envisions a place for the nations in God's future paradise (21:24-26; 22:2). So can we rule out Isaiah 2 being future, just because the New Testament says that the church is fulfilling it? Perhaps not.
The Bible often presents God acting and the church joining him in what he is doing. That differs somewhat from how many present witnessing--as doing God's work for him, or, more precisely, as being the sole means by which God does his work. But more on that next time!
Blood on Your Hands
Over the past few days, I've been blogging about Christian universalism, the belief that God will save everyone in the end. I've discussed this issue before, specifically when I interacted with Zondervan's More Than One Way? Four Views on Salvation in a Pluralistic World (search under "More than One Way" if you're interested in my thoughts). What inspired my latest round of universalism posts was Bryan's Universalism Tendencies, in which he asks if people believe in universalism because they don't like to witness.
In prominent strands of evangelicalism, Christians are told that they need to witness in order to save people from hell. The Book of Romans is clear that the wrath of God is against all unrighteousness. Because all have sinned, everyone is subject to divine judgment, which means that they're on their way straight to hell. But God has provided a solution, for Jesus Christ experienced God's wrath in place of sinners when he died on the cross. And sinners need to receive Christ's sacrifice on their behalf in order to be forgiven of their sins.
But, in order to believe in Christ's sacrifice, they first need to know about it. As Paul asks in Romans 10:14, "But how are they to call on one in whom they have not believed? And how are they to believe in one of whom they have never heard? And how are they to hear without someone to proclaim him?" (NRSV). And that's why Christians need to witness--people are going straight to hell, and the Gospel of Jesus Christ is the only thing that can save them.
But what if you don't share the Gospel with someone and he goes to hell as a consequence? Will God hold you responsible because you didn't witness? There are Christians who answer with an unequivocal "yes." Their reason is Ezekiel 3:18:
"If I say to the wicked, 'You shall surely die,' and you give them no warning, or speak to warn the wicked from their wicked way, in order to save their life, those wicked persons shall die for their iniquity; but their blood I will require at your hand."
According to this passage, God holds the prophet responsible if he doesn't warn the Israelites of divine judgment. And Christian exclusivists apply that passage to all Christians: God has declared that he will judge each and every human being for sin. If we don't warn them and give them an opportunity to repent, then they will experience eternal torment (or annihilation, if you're an Adventist). And God will hold us responsible for their fate.
But what exactly will God do when he holds us responsible? Will he send us to hell? A lot of evangelicals will say "no," even if they're the ultra-conservative exclusivist types. The reason is that Paul talks a lot about salvation by grace through faith, apart from works (Romans 4; Ephesians 2:8-9). Evangelicals take that concept pretty seriously (to say the least), so they deny that a failure to witness can disqualify a believer from heaven. The believer believes, after all, and that's the only requirement for salvation.
One person in a Bible study group said that God will make us confront every single person we should have shared the Gospel with, but didn't. And so God will sentence the unbeliever to eternal hell for his sins, and the unbeliever will look at us with shock: "Why didn't you tell me about this?," he'll say.
Some may assert that we won't get certain rewards if we fail to witness. One evangelical friend called them "jewels in his crown." According to him, all believers will receive a crown because they're saved by grace through faith. But they'll get jewels in their crowns if they do good works. Wow, that's something to anticipate! I guess it beats roasting in a fire forever and ever!
And then some think that they'll be in heaven for all eternity with literal blood on their hands. I once read a "testimony" by a fundamentalist who became an atheist. She said that she was afraid to witness in her fundamentalist days, so she envisioned herself in heaven, trying to hide her hands from everyone else because of the blood that was on them.
Ezekiel explains more of what he means in Ezekiel 33:1-9. V 9 is crucial: "But if you warn the wicked to turn from their ways, and they do not turn from their ways, the wicked shall die in their iniquity, but you will have saved your life." For Ezekiel, the prophet who fails to warn others will die in the destruction that God sends. Ezekiel doesn't wrestle with the issue of "How will God hold a saved person accountable for not witnessing to others?" because he's not talking about eternal judgment and salvation. He's discussing God's temporal, historical punishment of Judah.
But do Christians still have a responsibility to warn everyone about hell? A lot of evangelicals would say "yes." At the Adventist church I attended in Massachusetts, one of the pastors said that, if a man is going down a road that is dangerous, we have a moral responsibility to warn him. It's just the right thing to do.
Radio personality Harold Camping is about as fire-and brimstone as you can get, yet he denied that God will punish us for not witnessing. Rather, he interpreted Ezekiel 3:18 to mean that, if we do witness, God wants us to mention hell. None of this "God loves you and has a plan for your life" stuff, as far as Camping is concerned. For him, the Gospel is about salvation from judgment.
But telling people about hell is hard to do. We don't want to appear closed-minded. We don't like being offensive. It's a matter of social skills! As I've said, I attend a Jewish school that has a lot of evangelicals. I'll bet you money that the evangelicals there do not tell the Jewish students that they're going to hell! If they do witness, they do so by being nice people, or by talking about how God works in their lives, or whatever.
Plus, a lot of people don't put warning others about hell in the same category as warning them about a bad road. A bad road is tangible and verifiable, whereas Christian beliefs about hell are often viewed as one perspective about the afterlife amidst a sea of multiple perspectives. Why should people believe in our view as opposed to (say) reincarnation, or a religion that posits other requirements for entering the good afterlife (e.g., a generally righteous life)?
The evangelical exclusivist view places the weight of people's salvations on our itty-bitty shoulders. In a coming post, I'll wrestle more with that.
In prominent strands of evangelicalism, Christians are told that they need to witness in order to save people from hell. The Book of Romans is clear that the wrath of God is against all unrighteousness. Because all have sinned, everyone is subject to divine judgment, which means that they're on their way straight to hell. But God has provided a solution, for Jesus Christ experienced God's wrath in place of sinners when he died on the cross. And sinners need to receive Christ's sacrifice on their behalf in order to be forgiven of their sins.
But, in order to believe in Christ's sacrifice, they first need to know about it. As Paul asks in Romans 10:14, "But how are they to call on one in whom they have not believed? And how are they to believe in one of whom they have never heard? And how are they to hear without someone to proclaim him?" (NRSV). And that's why Christians need to witness--people are going straight to hell, and the Gospel of Jesus Christ is the only thing that can save them.
But what if you don't share the Gospel with someone and he goes to hell as a consequence? Will God hold you responsible because you didn't witness? There are Christians who answer with an unequivocal "yes." Their reason is Ezekiel 3:18:
"If I say to the wicked, 'You shall surely die,' and you give them no warning, or speak to warn the wicked from their wicked way, in order to save their life, those wicked persons shall die for their iniquity; but their blood I will require at your hand."
According to this passage, God holds the prophet responsible if he doesn't warn the Israelites of divine judgment. And Christian exclusivists apply that passage to all Christians: God has declared that he will judge each and every human being for sin. If we don't warn them and give them an opportunity to repent, then they will experience eternal torment (or annihilation, if you're an Adventist). And God will hold us responsible for their fate.
But what exactly will God do when he holds us responsible? Will he send us to hell? A lot of evangelicals will say "no," even if they're the ultra-conservative exclusivist types. The reason is that Paul talks a lot about salvation by grace through faith, apart from works (Romans 4; Ephesians 2:8-9). Evangelicals take that concept pretty seriously (to say the least), so they deny that a failure to witness can disqualify a believer from heaven. The believer believes, after all, and that's the only requirement for salvation.
One person in a Bible study group said that God will make us confront every single person we should have shared the Gospel with, but didn't. And so God will sentence the unbeliever to eternal hell for his sins, and the unbeliever will look at us with shock: "Why didn't you tell me about this?," he'll say.
Some may assert that we won't get certain rewards if we fail to witness. One evangelical friend called them "jewels in his crown." According to him, all believers will receive a crown because they're saved by grace through faith. But they'll get jewels in their crowns if they do good works. Wow, that's something to anticipate! I guess it beats roasting in a fire forever and ever!
And then some think that they'll be in heaven for all eternity with literal blood on their hands. I once read a "testimony" by a fundamentalist who became an atheist. She said that she was afraid to witness in her fundamentalist days, so she envisioned herself in heaven, trying to hide her hands from everyone else because of the blood that was on them.
Ezekiel explains more of what he means in Ezekiel 33:1-9. V 9 is crucial: "But if you warn the wicked to turn from their ways, and they do not turn from their ways, the wicked shall die in their iniquity, but you will have saved your life." For Ezekiel, the prophet who fails to warn others will die in the destruction that God sends. Ezekiel doesn't wrestle with the issue of "How will God hold a saved person accountable for not witnessing to others?" because he's not talking about eternal judgment and salvation. He's discussing God's temporal, historical punishment of Judah.
But do Christians still have a responsibility to warn everyone about hell? A lot of evangelicals would say "yes." At the Adventist church I attended in Massachusetts, one of the pastors said that, if a man is going down a road that is dangerous, we have a moral responsibility to warn him. It's just the right thing to do.
Radio personality Harold Camping is about as fire-and brimstone as you can get, yet he denied that God will punish us for not witnessing. Rather, he interpreted Ezekiel 3:18 to mean that, if we do witness, God wants us to mention hell. None of this "God loves you and has a plan for your life" stuff, as far as Camping is concerned. For him, the Gospel is about salvation from judgment.
But telling people about hell is hard to do. We don't want to appear closed-minded. We don't like being offensive. It's a matter of social skills! As I've said, I attend a Jewish school that has a lot of evangelicals. I'll bet you money that the evangelicals there do not tell the Jewish students that they're going to hell! If they do witness, they do so by being nice people, or by talking about how God works in their lives, or whatever.
Plus, a lot of people don't put warning others about hell in the same category as warning them about a bad road. A bad road is tangible and verifiable, whereas Christian beliefs about hell are often viewed as one perspective about the afterlife amidst a sea of multiple perspectives. Why should people believe in our view as opposed to (say) reincarnation, or a religion that posits other requirements for entering the good afterlife (e.g., a generally righteous life)?
The evangelical exclusivist view places the weight of people's salvations on our itty-bitty shoulders. In a coming post, I'll wrestle more with that.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
When God's Love Becomes a Cliche
This will be my last post for today, then I'll go watch the last episode of Lost, Season 1.
I talked in my last post about how God's unconditional love can motivate a person to witness. But is that always the case?
I'll admit that there are Christians who bubble forth with joy. Sure, a lot of them are putting on an act so they can appear righteous, but there are also many who are genuinely happy.
When I was at DePauw, I attended a Christian group called "JC" (which stands for "Jesus Christ"). It drew tons of students! People talk about the revival in Lakeland. Well, there was a revival at DePauw, and people were hungry for the Gospel of Jesus Christ, not the Gospel of how to bark like a dog. But, anyway, in the course of the JC meeting, we would break up into small groups. And, one day, the discussion topic was God's love.
A girl in my group said, "When you know God loves you unconditionally, it has to overflow to other people." And I can see her point. I'm much more willing to reach out to others when God is making me feel secure and happy.
I then said that I had problems finding security in God's love, whereas I actually felt better when people reached out to me. And the leader of the group said, "Do you know why? Because you don't see God." And that's pretty much true. For some reason, God's love was real to that one girl. I don't know why--maybe she had experienced God's hand in her life, or Christianity was the only religion she knew, and so she just assumed it. But, for me, God's love was theoretical, since I didn't experience him in a tangible sense.
I find that God's love does not make all people happy, even if they believe in it. Nor does it move everyone to witness. I know universalists who think God will convert everyone in the end. But does that move them in any way? Do they feel an urge to tell others about Jesus? Not really. They just assume God will do it all. They believe in a God of love, but they are armchair theologians. They aren't like those who feel an immediate urgency to save people from hell. They're the opposite: they are completely laid back, for they expect God to do everything in his own time.
Then there's the opposite extreme: those who just assume God's love, yet they stress out to do good. I knew a mainline Protestant minister who was like this. He thought that God loved everyone unconditionally. Hell and the wrath of God weren't really a part of his theological outlook. Actually, I recall him telling me that he thought God would work it out for everyone in the end. But he didn't just kick back and relax--he poured himself into community service, and, indeed, his church did help a lot of people. Through all of this, he always looked so stressed out, as if he needed to keep the world from falling apart each and every day. He was also somewhat of a perfectionist, and he could get pretty cranky. His belief in God's love didn't give him much peace (as far as I could tell).
Then there was a Princeton seminarian who looked at God's love and thought "Big deal!" For him, it was just a cliche. He once told me, "You know, I can't stand reading Eugene Petersen and Philip Yancey. All they ever say is 'God loves you!' It gets old after a while!" When his girlfriend broke up with him, he got depressed. He said, "What's the purpose of life? You know, we're here, and we'll all go to heaven after we die. But what's the point of being here?" Like the mainline Protestant pastor, he poured himself into community service, so you couldn't really tell him, "You just feel empty because you don't give enough." He assumed God's unconditional love, but that didn't make him happy.
Then there are the people who believe in God's love, yet they don't think much about him in their day-to-day lives. When I visited Indiana Wesleyan, I heard a talk about witnessing. The speaker told us about a time when he witnessed to a couple of rough-looking motorcycle men. He gave them the usual ice-breaker of "If you were to die, and God asked you why he should let you into his heaven, what would you answer?" One of them blew the question off, saying, "God will let me in. He loves me!" The other, by contrast, was uncertain that he'd make it. It was the second person who was open to the Gospel, and he became born again.
The first guy assumed God's unconditional love, but that didn't motivate him to be a Christian. He didn't do anything for God. He probably lived in sin in many areas of his life. And that's the way it is with numerous people, even Christians. Many of us have heard the term "cheap grace." A lot of people can believe in God's love even as they live in a licentious manner. They take it for granted!
And then there are the non-believers who don't like talk about God's love. They consider it sappy and syrupy. One would think that a message about God's unconditional love would draw virtually everyone, but it doesn't. Maybe they don't believe in it because they've experienced their share of suffering in life. Or perhaps they've heard it, and it just makes them sick. They don't like altar call, "Honk if you love Jesus!" Christianity!
I often hunger for God's love because I want to feel safe, secure, and, well, loved! As a result, I tend to assume that a belief in a God of unconditional love can transform people to become more loving themselves. But it doesn't always work that way, for God's love is often a cliche.
I talked in my last post about how God's unconditional love can motivate a person to witness. But is that always the case?
I'll admit that there are Christians who bubble forth with joy. Sure, a lot of them are putting on an act so they can appear righteous, but there are also many who are genuinely happy.
When I was at DePauw, I attended a Christian group called "JC" (which stands for "Jesus Christ"). It drew tons of students! People talk about the revival in Lakeland. Well, there was a revival at DePauw, and people were hungry for the Gospel of Jesus Christ, not the Gospel of how to bark like a dog. But, anyway, in the course of the JC meeting, we would break up into small groups. And, one day, the discussion topic was God's love.
A girl in my group said, "When you know God loves you unconditionally, it has to overflow to other people." And I can see her point. I'm much more willing to reach out to others when God is making me feel secure and happy.
I then said that I had problems finding security in God's love, whereas I actually felt better when people reached out to me. And the leader of the group said, "Do you know why? Because you don't see God." And that's pretty much true. For some reason, God's love was real to that one girl. I don't know why--maybe she had experienced God's hand in her life, or Christianity was the only religion she knew, and so she just assumed it. But, for me, God's love was theoretical, since I didn't experience him in a tangible sense.
I find that God's love does not make all people happy, even if they believe in it. Nor does it move everyone to witness. I know universalists who think God will convert everyone in the end. But does that move them in any way? Do they feel an urge to tell others about Jesus? Not really. They just assume God will do it all. They believe in a God of love, but they are armchair theologians. They aren't like those who feel an immediate urgency to save people from hell. They're the opposite: they are completely laid back, for they expect God to do everything in his own time.
Then there's the opposite extreme: those who just assume God's love, yet they stress out to do good. I knew a mainline Protestant minister who was like this. He thought that God loved everyone unconditionally. Hell and the wrath of God weren't really a part of his theological outlook. Actually, I recall him telling me that he thought God would work it out for everyone in the end. But he didn't just kick back and relax--he poured himself into community service, and, indeed, his church did help a lot of people. Through all of this, he always looked so stressed out, as if he needed to keep the world from falling apart each and every day. He was also somewhat of a perfectionist, and he could get pretty cranky. His belief in God's love didn't give him much peace (as far as I could tell).
Then there was a Princeton seminarian who looked at God's love and thought "Big deal!" For him, it was just a cliche. He once told me, "You know, I can't stand reading Eugene Petersen and Philip Yancey. All they ever say is 'God loves you!' It gets old after a while!" When his girlfriend broke up with him, he got depressed. He said, "What's the purpose of life? You know, we're here, and we'll all go to heaven after we die. But what's the point of being here?" Like the mainline Protestant pastor, he poured himself into community service, so you couldn't really tell him, "You just feel empty because you don't give enough." He assumed God's unconditional love, but that didn't make him happy.
Then there are the people who believe in God's love, yet they don't think much about him in their day-to-day lives. When I visited Indiana Wesleyan, I heard a talk about witnessing. The speaker told us about a time when he witnessed to a couple of rough-looking motorcycle men. He gave them the usual ice-breaker of "If you were to die, and God asked you why he should let you into his heaven, what would you answer?" One of them blew the question off, saying, "God will let me in. He loves me!" The other, by contrast, was uncertain that he'd make it. It was the second person who was open to the Gospel, and he became born again.
The first guy assumed God's unconditional love, but that didn't motivate him to be a Christian. He didn't do anything for God. He probably lived in sin in many areas of his life. And that's the way it is with numerous people, even Christians. Many of us have heard the term "cheap grace." A lot of people can believe in God's love even as they live in a licentious manner. They take it for granted!
And then there are the non-believers who don't like talk about God's love. They consider it sappy and syrupy. One would think that a message about God's unconditional love would draw virtually everyone, but it doesn't. Maybe they don't believe in it because they've experienced their share of suffering in life. Or perhaps they've heard it, and it just makes them sick. They don't like altar call, "Honk if you love Jesus!" Christianity!
I often hunger for God's love because I want to feel safe, secure, and, well, loved! As a result, I tend to assume that a belief in a God of unconditional love can transform people to become more loving themselves. But it doesn't always work that way, for God's love is often a cliche.
Can Universalism Motivate?
A long time ago, I read a "testimony" on the Christian universalist site, http://www.tentmaker.org/. It was by a minister by the name of Charles Slagle (see here). Although Slagle was a minister, he had a lot of problems. He feared God's abandonment. He was addicted to alcohol and anti-depressants. He hated himself. And, to top it all off, he attempted suicide.
But all of that changed when he accepted Christian universalism. Slagle writes:
"I had attempted suicide. What had happened? I had lost all hope. That's what had happened. About a year before I went under, I was given a book that contained selections from George MacDonald's writings. (Anyone remember the Scotsman C.S. Lewis often referred to as his spiritual master/teacher?) As I read and re-read that book over the next several months, I often blubbered and cried like a baby. Was it possible? Could it be that God could be that good?"
George MacDonald was a Scottish Christian writer who had universalist tendencies, and he wrote a lot about "the heart of the father."
But Slagle's problem was trying to reconcile God's "unconditional love" with Christian doctrines that seemed to assert the opposite. Calvinism says that we can only be assured of salvation if we live a good life. No, it doesn't think that a good life earns anyone salvation, but does view it as a sign that salvation has taken place. But does that really assure people? How good do I have to be before I can finally feel safe and secure? The Puritans went into fits of depression on account of this doctrine! And what about all those Calvinists who are untroubled by it? Do they feel that their lives are good enough for them to place themselves in the "saved" category? Isn't that self-righteousness?
The Arminians place a lot of emphasis on human free will, but free will can change like the wind. Sure, I can choose what I do, but my desires are not always firmly planted in the soil of righteousness. What I want is not set in stone on a day-to-day basis. And how can God legislate that I believe in something? Can I truly help what I believe? "James, believe this..."
Then there's the whole issue of those who are lost--both the people who have heard the Gospel, and also the ones who have not. Is God unconditionally committed to them? Or does he write them off because they didn't say the sinner's prayer before their deaths?
When I hear about God's unconditional love, I think of a beautiful episode of Highway to Heaven entitled "We Have Forever." Michael Landon played an angel named Jonathan Smith. Jonathan was a human before he died and became an angel, and God gave him assignments so he could earn his wings. Well, Jonathan's wife Jane passed away, and he was looking forward to retiring from his forty years of assignments so he could join his wife in heaven. To his disappointment, however, God told him he still had work to do.
Jonathan becomes angry with God and walks away from him, prompting God to take away his angelic powers. As he begins to adjust to his newfound human limitations (which is quite humorous to watch), he rescues a woman from drowning. Her name is Jennifer. Jonathan and Jennifer fall in love. They save a cute puppy from getting run over, and they name him "Ewe," because he's like a cuddly little lamb. Jennifer comforts Jonathan as he looks for a job, and she also helps him to heal from his anger against God. In a touching scene, Jonathan reconciles with God one night at the beach, as Jennifer looks on from a distance.
In the course of the episode, we begin to see signs that Jennifer isn't exactly an ordinary person, and it turns out that she's actually Jonathan's wife, Jane. God allowed Jonathan to heal and enjoy time with his wife, before he resumed his job of helping people. At the end of the show, Jonathan reads a letter from Jane saying that they'll see each other again one day, and that from that point on they'll have forever. Jonathan then looks at his sidekick, Mark, and says, "We have an assignment."
Charles Slagle says that George MacDonald made him blubber like a baby. That's what this episode has done to me on a number of occasions. Jonathan was angry with God, and he wasn't exactly being your perfect little angel. Yet, God did not give up on him, but he gave Jonathan a chance to love and to heal. And after Jonathan experienced the tender love of his father, that motivated him to resume the job that God had in store for him.
Isn't that something to witness about--that God doesn't give up on us, even when we're bad? Universalism firmly believes in this, for it denies that God gives up on anyone. As far as it's concerned, all will be saved. But I have a problem reconciling this doctrine with many biblical passages, for the God of wrath is a key figure of Scripture. Is there a way to believe in a God of unconditional love, while doing justice to the passages that seem to present a different picture?
But all of that changed when he accepted Christian universalism. Slagle writes:
"I had attempted suicide. What had happened? I had lost all hope. That's what had happened. About a year before I went under, I was given a book that contained selections from George MacDonald's writings. (Anyone remember the Scotsman C.S. Lewis often referred to as his spiritual master/teacher?) As I read and re-read that book over the next several months, I often blubbered and cried like a baby. Was it possible? Could it be that God could be that good?"
George MacDonald was a Scottish Christian writer who had universalist tendencies, and he wrote a lot about "the heart of the father."
But Slagle's problem was trying to reconcile God's "unconditional love" with Christian doctrines that seemed to assert the opposite. Calvinism says that we can only be assured of salvation if we live a good life. No, it doesn't think that a good life earns anyone salvation, but does view it as a sign that salvation has taken place. But does that really assure people? How good do I have to be before I can finally feel safe and secure? The Puritans went into fits of depression on account of this doctrine! And what about all those Calvinists who are untroubled by it? Do they feel that their lives are good enough for them to place themselves in the "saved" category? Isn't that self-righteousness?
The Arminians place a lot of emphasis on human free will, but free will can change like the wind. Sure, I can choose what I do, but my desires are not always firmly planted in the soil of righteousness. What I want is not set in stone on a day-to-day basis. And how can God legislate that I believe in something? Can I truly help what I believe? "James, believe this..."
Then there's the whole issue of those who are lost--both the people who have heard the Gospel, and also the ones who have not. Is God unconditionally committed to them? Or does he write them off because they didn't say the sinner's prayer before their deaths?
When I hear about God's unconditional love, I think of a beautiful episode of Highway to Heaven entitled "We Have Forever." Michael Landon played an angel named Jonathan Smith. Jonathan was a human before he died and became an angel, and God gave him assignments so he could earn his wings. Well, Jonathan's wife Jane passed away, and he was looking forward to retiring from his forty years of assignments so he could join his wife in heaven. To his disappointment, however, God told him he still had work to do.
Jonathan becomes angry with God and walks away from him, prompting God to take away his angelic powers. As he begins to adjust to his newfound human limitations (which is quite humorous to watch), he rescues a woman from drowning. Her name is Jennifer. Jonathan and Jennifer fall in love. They save a cute puppy from getting run over, and they name him "Ewe," because he's like a cuddly little lamb. Jennifer comforts Jonathan as he looks for a job, and she also helps him to heal from his anger against God. In a touching scene, Jonathan reconciles with God one night at the beach, as Jennifer looks on from a distance.
In the course of the episode, we begin to see signs that Jennifer isn't exactly an ordinary person, and it turns out that she's actually Jonathan's wife, Jane. God allowed Jonathan to heal and enjoy time with his wife, before he resumed his job of helping people. At the end of the show, Jonathan reads a letter from Jane saying that they'll see each other again one day, and that from that point on they'll have forever. Jonathan then looks at his sidekick, Mark, and says, "We have an assignment."
Charles Slagle says that George MacDonald made him blubber like a baby. That's what this episode has done to me on a number of occasions. Jonathan was angry with God, and he wasn't exactly being your perfect little angel. Yet, God did not give up on him, but he gave Jonathan a chance to love and to heal. And after Jonathan experienced the tender love of his father, that motivated him to resume the job that God had in store for him.
Isn't that something to witness about--that God doesn't give up on us, even when we're bad? Universalism firmly believes in this, for it denies that God gives up on anyone. As far as it's concerned, all will be saved. But I have a problem reconciling this doctrine with many biblical passages, for the God of wrath is a key figure of Scripture. Is there a way to believe in a God of unconditional love, while doing justice to the passages that seem to present a different picture?
Motivations for Witnessing
As I mentioned yesterday, Bryan has a post entitled Universalism Tendencies, in which he asks "if the universalism tendencies that many Christians have are at all tied to a dislike of evangelism and witnessing to others about the Gospel?" Today, I want to wrestle a little with that.
Let me say at the outset that I hate witnessing. A lot of it has to do with me not being much of a people-person. I also don't like the entire weight of people's immortal souls being placed on my shoulders. And I think that witnessing entails a lot of pretending and manipulation: I have to act as if I'm completely sold out on conservative Christianity and that it brings me personal fulfillment. And I have to try all sorts of tactics to get the prospect to sign on the dotted line (i.e., say the sinner's prayer).
Some say that we shouldn't just witness to keep people out of hell. Ferg responded to Bryan's post, saying, "If I was a universalist I don’t think it would stop me evangelising as I don’t believe Jesus is all about sneaking people in to heaven, it’s about people being set free and the kingdom of Jesus being revealed now so peoples lives can be turned around."
I've heard similar things over the years. When I was at Harvard, my Harvard Divinity School Christian Fellowship was discussing why we don't witness enough (yawn!). I replied that perhaps we don't take hell as seriously as we should. That prompted the leader to say, "I don't think hell should be the only reason to witness! These people have a spiritual thirst, and we should show them that Jesus is the answer to that."
A while back, Felix said under one of my posts that witnessing shouldn't be primarily about fire insurance, but should focus instead on freeing people from the power of Satan the devil. And there are good texts backing him up on this. For example, God told Paul that his mission was "to open their eyes so that they may turn from darkness to light and from the power of Satan to God, so that they may receive forgiveness of sins and a place among those who are sanctified by faith in me" (Acts 26:18 NRSV). Colossians 1:13 states that Christ "has rescued us from the power of darkness and transferred us into the kingdom of his beloved Son[.]" And Titus 3:3-5 describes what the dominion of Satan was like: "For we ourselves were once foolish, disobedient, led astray, slaves to various passions and pleasures, passing our days in malice and envy, despicable, hating one another. But when the goodness and loving kindness of God our Savior appeared, he saved us..." Sin is a brutal taskmaster, and Christianity is about Jesus saving us from that and giving us a new life.
But I personally have problems with witnessing from these kinds of motivations. For one, I'm not entirely sure what the "kingdom of God" means. If I'm to witness about God's kingdom, what exactly am I supposed to say? Should my message be that Jesus Christ will come back to earth and miraculously solve all the world's problems (the Armstrongite approach)? Should I encourage people to do community service or vote Democrat, as if the renewal of the world depends on Christians (the mainline Protestant view)? What is the kingdom of God?
Second, I have a hard time telling people that Jesus is the answer to all of their problems. To be perfectly honest, Christianity doesn't quench all of my thirst. I myself don't find it fulfilling all of the time. I still get depressed and angry and bitter and discontent, even though I believe in certain doctrines about Jesus. Why should I assume that evangelicalism contains what people are looking for, especially when they may find other religions or ideas that speak to them?
And, third, I still feel as if I'm under the power of Satan the devil, even though I've been a Christian for over a decade. I still have hatred and lust and a host of other sins, which I don't know how to shake. And, to be perfectly honest, I don't think that many unbelievers are better or worse than I am, at least not on an overall scale. Sure, I don't have sex outside of marriage, and they do. But, when it comes to helping people or being kind or loving one's neighbor, I find unbelievers to be as decent as a lot of Christians.
Some may say that witnessing should be about proclaiming God's righteous ways. And, indeed, Jesus tells us to teach others everything that he has commanded us (Matthew 28:20). But I have trouble teaching people to do a bunch of laws, especially when I find them pretty burdensome to keep.
So these four things are not powerful motivations, as far as I'm concerned. But the idea that someone will suffer forever and ever in hell fire, with no hope of deliverance? That would motivate!
Let me say at the outset that I hate witnessing. A lot of it has to do with me not being much of a people-person. I also don't like the entire weight of people's immortal souls being placed on my shoulders. And I think that witnessing entails a lot of pretending and manipulation: I have to act as if I'm completely sold out on conservative Christianity and that it brings me personal fulfillment. And I have to try all sorts of tactics to get the prospect to sign on the dotted line (i.e., say the sinner's prayer).
Some say that we shouldn't just witness to keep people out of hell. Ferg responded to Bryan's post, saying, "If I was a universalist I don’t think it would stop me evangelising as I don’t believe Jesus is all about sneaking people in to heaven, it’s about people being set free and the kingdom of Jesus being revealed now so peoples lives can be turned around."
I've heard similar things over the years. When I was at Harvard, my Harvard Divinity School Christian Fellowship was discussing why we don't witness enough (yawn!). I replied that perhaps we don't take hell as seriously as we should. That prompted the leader to say, "I don't think hell should be the only reason to witness! These people have a spiritual thirst, and we should show them that Jesus is the answer to that."
A while back, Felix said under one of my posts that witnessing shouldn't be primarily about fire insurance, but should focus instead on freeing people from the power of Satan the devil. And there are good texts backing him up on this. For example, God told Paul that his mission was "to open their eyes so that they may turn from darkness to light and from the power of Satan to God, so that they may receive forgiveness of sins and a place among those who are sanctified by faith in me" (Acts 26:18 NRSV). Colossians 1:13 states that Christ "has rescued us from the power of darkness and transferred us into the kingdom of his beloved Son[.]" And Titus 3:3-5 describes what the dominion of Satan was like: "For we ourselves were once foolish, disobedient, led astray, slaves to various passions and pleasures, passing our days in malice and envy, despicable, hating one another. But when the goodness and loving kindness of God our Savior appeared, he saved us..." Sin is a brutal taskmaster, and Christianity is about Jesus saving us from that and giving us a new life.
But I personally have problems with witnessing from these kinds of motivations. For one, I'm not entirely sure what the "kingdom of God" means. If I'm to witness about God's kingdom, what exactly am I supposed to say? Should my message be that Jesus Christ will come back to earth and miraculously solve all the world's problems (the Armstrongite approach)? Should I encourage people to do community service or vote Democrat, as if the renewal of the world depends on Christians (the mainline Protestant view)? What is the kingdom of God?
Second, I have a hard time telling people that Jesus is the answer to all of their problems. To be perfectly honest, Christianity doesn't quench all of my thirst. I myself don't find it fulfilling all of the time. I still get depressed and angry and bitter and discontent, even though I believe in certain doctrines about Jesus. Why should I assume that evangelicalism contains what people are looking for, especially when they may find other religions or ideas that speak to them?
And, third, I still feel as if I'm under the power of Satan the devil, even though I've been a Christian for over a decade. I still have hatred and lust and a host of other sins, which I don't know how to shake. And, to be perfectly honest, I don't think that many unbelievers are better or worse than I am, at least not on an overall scale. Sure, I don't have sex outside of marriage, and they do. But, when it comes to helping people or being kind or loving one's neighbor, I find unbelievers to be as decent as a lot of Christians.
Some may say that witnessing should be about proclaiming God's righteous ways. And, indeed, Jesus tells us to teach others everything that he has commanded us (Matthew 28:20). But I have trouble teaching people to do a bunch of laws, especially when I find them pretty burdensome to keep.
So these four things are not powerful motivations, as far as I'm concerned. But the idea that someone will suffer forever and ever in hell fire, with no hope of deliverance? That would motivate!
Dostoevsky, Hitler, and Universalism
When I was at DePauw, one of the classes I did pretty badly in was Nineteenth Century Russian literature. Ironically, it's also one of the classes that has stuck with me the most.
We read Fyodor Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment. One part I remember from the movie (yes, I read the book too) was where this drunk was rambling on about biblical eschatology. He said that, after everything is said and done, God will welcome the Beast of Revelation 13 into his kingdom. Ultimately, there would be a final reconciliation between God and his enemies.
You might think that these were the mere ramblings of a drunk, but I encountered the same sort of idea in Dostoevsky's The Brothers Karamazov. In this work, there is an atheist named Ivan Karamazov, and he has a very religious brother, Alexei. One the 1958 film version, Ivan was played by Richard Basehart, that abusive teacher on Little House on the Prairie who told Laura Ingalls to "Hold out your hand." And Alexei was played by William Shatner, better known as Captain Kirk.
In the chapter "Rebellion" (see here), Ivan and Alexei get into a religious debate. Ivan tells a story about a general who owned a lot of estates. One day, an eight-year-old boy threw a rock at the general's favorite dog, crippling his leg. The general was upset, and, in retaliation, he kidnapped the boy, locked him up for the night, took him outside the next morning, stripped him, and set his hounds on him while he (the boy) fled. The dogs ripped the little boy to shreds, right in front of his weeping mother.
Ivan doesn't buy into the whole "God has a plan, and we don't always understand his ways" spiel. He wrestles with a scenario in which the whole world will proclaim the justice of God's ways, and the mother will forgive and embrace her child's killer, as both sing praises to God. For Ivan, however, that doesn't exactly cut it. The child was still viciously ripped to shreds, which caused an immense amount of pain to his mother. Meanwhile, the pompous general was on his abusive power trip, and he was influential enough to escape any punishment that may be imposed (if any). As far as Ivan is concerned, nothing can make up for that--not a final reconciliation, not even hell.
Ivan seems to discuss a form of universalism, in which everyone praises God and embraces one another in the final eschaton. He may not think that God forces all people to believe in him, for he says that he's not going to join in on the praise party when all of that happens. But he seems to assume that many Russian Christians don't buy into an "accept Christ before you die, or you'll go to hell for all eternity" sort of mindset. At the same time, he does address the doctrine of hell, so apparently there were people who believed in it.
Overall, Ivan highlights what many identify as a problem in universalism: it appears to take away from God's justice. "If Hitler is in heaven, then I don't want to be there," Jerry Falwell once said in a debate with a universalist. The concern seems to be that, if God saves Hitler in the afterlife, then he is disregarding all of the pain and suffering that Hitler caused, as if it doesn't really matter.
I can understand the thirst for God's justice, for you see it all over the Bible. At the same time, don't we all hurt other people when we sin? The thief on the cross whom Jesus welcomed into his kingdom probably harmed some people in his insurrections. Yet, Jesus forgave him. The Assyrians conquered defenseless countries and brutally impaled people's bodies as a warning. Still, God spared them from destruction in the Book of Jonah. Why should we put Hitler in a completely different category?
Also, suppose Hitler said the sinner's prayer right before he died. According to many evangelicals, he'd go straight to heaven. What's that do to God's justice?
Of course, that raises all sorts of other issues. If Hitler actually felt remorse, then perhaps he should receive forgiveness. But can his remorse make up for all of the pain and suffering he caused? Should he get off scot-free, even if he's sorry?
I wonder if there are strands of Russian Christianity that embrace universalism. And I wrestle with the ramifications of that view as Dostoevsky presents it.
We read Fyodor Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment. One part I remember from the movie (yes, I read the book too) was where this drunk was rambling on about biblical eschatology. He said that, after everything is said and done, God will welcome the Beast of Revelation 13 into his kingdom. Ultimately, there would be a final reconciliation between God and his enemies.
You might think that these were the mere ramblings of a drunk, but I encountered the same sort of idea in Dostoevsky's The Brothers Karamazov. In this work, there is an atheist named Ivan Karamazov, and he has a very religious brother, Alexei. One the 1958 film version, Ivan was played by Richard Basehart, that abusive teacher on Little House on the Prairie who told Laura Ingalls to "Hold out your hand." And Alexei was played by William Shatner, better known as Captain Kirk.
In the chapter "Rebellion" (see here), Ivan and Alexei get into a religious debate. Ivan tells a story about a general who owned a lot of estates. One day, an eight-year-old boy threw a rock at the general's favorite dog, crippling his leg. The general was upset, and, in retaliation, he kidnapped the boy, locked him up for the night, took him outside the next morning, stripped him, and set his hounds on him while he (the boy) fled. The dogs ripped the little boy to shreds, right in front of his weeping mother.
Ivan doesn't buy into the whole "God has a plan, and we don't always understand his ways" spiel. He wrestles with a scenario in which the whole world will proclaim the justice of God's ways, and the mother will forgive and embrace her child's killer, as both sing praises to God. For Ivan, however, that doesn't exactly cut it. The child was still viciously ripped to shreds, which caused an immense amount of pain to his mother. Meanwhile, the pompous general was on his abusive power trip, and he was influential enough to escape any punishment that may be imposed (if any). As far as Ivan is concerned, nothing can make up for that--not a final reconciliation, not even hell.
Ivan seems to discuss a form of universalism, in which everyone praises God and embraces one another in the final eschaton. He may not think that God forces all people to believe in him, for he says that he's not going to join in on the praise party when all of that happens. But he seems to assume that many Russian Christians don't buy into an "accept Christ before you die, or you'll go to hell for all eternity" sort of mindset. At the same time, he does address the doctrine of hell, so apparently there were people who believed in it.
Overall, Ivan highlights what many identify as a problem in universalism: it appears to take away from God's justice. "If Hitler is in heaven, then I don't want to be there," Jerry Falwell once said in a debate with a universalist. The concern seems to be that, if God saves Hitler in the afterlife, then he is disregarding all of the pain and suffering that Hitler caused, as if it doesn't really matter.
I can understand the thirst for God's justice, for you see it all over the Bible. At the same time, don't we all hurt other people when we sin? The thief on the cross whom Jesus welcomed into his kingdom probably harmed some people in his insurrections. Yet, Jesus forgave him. The Assyrians conquered defenseless countries and brutally impaled people's bodies as a warning. Still, God spared them from destruction in the Book of Jonah. Why should we put Hitler in a completely different category?
Also, suppose Hitler said the sinner's prayer right before he died. According to many evangelicals, he'd go straight to heaven. What's that do to God's justice?
Of course, that raises all sorts of other issues. If Hitler actually felt remorse, then perhaps he should receive forgiveness. But can his remorse make up for all of the pain and suffering he caused? Should he get off scot-free, even if he's sorry?
I wonder if there are strands of Russian Christianity that embrace universalism. And I wrestle with the ramifications of that view as Dostoevsky presents it.
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