About a couple of years ago, I began to read a number of theologian’s viewpoints on the atonement theories of Jesus of the cross. I think the reason behind my investigations, so to speak, had to do with my nagging preoccupation that I wanted to view the cross in a different light or different way than the more heavily-held viewpoints of substitutionary or ransom theories that place Jesus as satisfactory payment for our sins, once and for all, and either trick the devil or relieve us from a debt we couldn’t pay. And I struggle, at times, with these views because I think it gets humanity off the hook from future offenses and puts Christian accountability on a slippery slope, and I much rather view the event of the cross as transformational than its traditional notion of being transactional. But with all that said, I am mesmerized by the power of the cross—with all of its critics and skeptics, it has stood the test of time. May the Christ of the cross continue to form me and you in new creations of loving-kindness.
Well, my investigations first led me to look over those copious notes from my Theology I & II class in seminary, which only prompted more questions and reminded me why I’m not a systematic theologian in the first place. And yet, I didn’t want my lack of understanding to stop me in my tracks, so I began to read a number of works by those that are in a similar search—Mark Heim, Walter Wink, Douglas John Hall, J. Weaver, Stephen Patterson, and, last but not least, C. S. Lewis. I found myself making new friends and revisiting some old friends as well. And as I find a place to call home in their writings, I still remain determined to eventually wrap my mind around a Christology that not only makes sense to me but also to my neighbor who may be searching for a similar truth found in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus the Christ. But for now, I’m in awe of the mystery. For me, the cross is a powerful symbol of faith because, even with all the struggles I may have with the historic theories, I still view myself as totally deprived in the shadow of that cross. Because you see, those passion narratives from our friends Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John depict those last days of Jesus as the unveiling of humanity’s maligned nature—that the host of characters and factions back then reflect the inherent nature of us today…that we would crucify the innocent in order to bring peace and the status quo back into the ranks of our lives is horrific! And that has become the over-arching point of reference for me for these past Lenten seasons—to reflect on the innocence I’ve crucified in others till it reaches its magnitude in the crucifixion of my Lord, Jesus the Christ.
It’s strange how my prayers on Palm Sunday and Easter have changed from hurried prayers of “thank you” to cracked whispers of “I’m sorry.” That’s quite a blow to my Christian ego because I can no longer stand on my own, but rather I must rely on the assurance of who God is through Jesus the Christ. Of course, why wouldn’t I want to lean on God rather than myself, but my humanity tends to be that old curmudgeon who believes in the popularized adage, “God helps those who help themselves.”
I continue to read from the theologian’s armchair even though I know that God’s thoughts and plans are not our own (Isaiah 55: 8-9) because as the pages unfold, the kernels of truth (of which God uses) are hidden within the questions of our faith. To God be the Glory. Amen and Amen.
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