Saturday, February 27, 2016

Theology with Legs

Crucifixion of Jesus by Salvador Dali

A couple months ago, I wrote about how hard it can be to understand the nitty-gritty details of theology – what people mean by “soteriology” or, in my case, “theology of the cross.” I shared some historical stuff to start people thinking about their theology of the cross. But, though I didn’t say it then, none of that resonated with me. Today, I share a bit more of my journey to finding my own theology.

Do you have a lot of books? I do, especially theology books. At my first appointment, I bought the retiring pastor’s library and suddenly had hundreds. In seminary I got dozens more. I weed through them regularly. Sometimes, I open a book only to close it moments later and walk it to the donations box (a fixture in our house). Sometimes, I read a bit, then don’t get back to it for years. Only rarely do I read a text cover-to-cover.


A book that helped me in my quest was of the second type. It appealed to my passions in ministry – justice and discipleship. When I brought it out again last fall, on a whim I flipped to the third – and final – section of the book. I liked it; it definitely resonated. So, pencil in hand, I started again at the beginning. Imagine my surprise when somewhere around page 30 I started finding penciled underlinings (yes, mine).

I’ll be reading more of that book eventually. Today, I offer "My Theology of the Cross and of Atonement as it's lived out"

The first thing I have to talk about is sin because, for some people, atonement is all about sin. Many people see sin as “the things we’ve done” which offend God, but really, Sin is a rejection of God. It’s a willfulness that leads us to live apart from the wholeness that comes from God. We want to lead our lives our own way. 

We need God and the at-one-ment (get that?) God offers us. But what does this mean? Does God require blood sacrifice? Is atonement about God’s “punitive justice” on the person of Jesus? If your belief includes one of these, I respect that. But for me, the idea that God would demand blood to satisfy a divine sense of justice is contrary to God’s nature. I believe God’s goal is close connection with us, relationship. While God stresses our need to forgive; it’s us who worry about God’s forgiveness, maybe to deal with our shame after we accept God’s grace.

Still, I‘ve conceded that Jesus, as example of radical justice, love and compassion isn’t enough. I’m humbled that God would try so much to reach us perverse human creatures and I’d like to find that my theology didn’t require the cross. Yet, it’s on the cross, and before that, in Golgotha, that Jesus is finally and most completely God-with-us. It’s in accepting, then facing, Rome’s execution that he affirms his absolute humanity. Our God goes this far.

Astounding, humbling…

One’s theology of the cross, before anything else, speaks about God. The characteristic I keep returning to is God’s caring. This compassion leads God to find creation not only “very good,” but worth doing absolutely anything for, so that it (and we) might achieve wholeness, fulfillment, and redemption. God loves all of creation and is committed to saving not just a part but all of it, in all its interrelatedness.

Once we accept God’s grace, we’re called to discipleship. Some people ignore this call, but faith demands discipleship – a discipleship that leads us to connect and engage with the world in ways we wouldn’t think of doing on our own. We’re called to this – individually and as faith communities – for the purpose of growing in solidarity with the creation God wants to redeem. We’re called to offer an alternative reality to the one society presents.

Our obedience to this second call is the mark (or not) of our faith. We live this out as we practice love-in-action – toward God’s human children and all the earth … as we engage in situations we’d just as soon avoid or ignore … and, as we stop assuming that God shares our narrow view of who and what matter, and start living as if God loves and seeks to redeem, literally, everything.

So, there's a piece of my theology. What's yours?

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