The Shack and Universalism (Part 2), [or why Brock could never get a job at a Baptist church]

In my previous post, I critiqued some of the arguments made to show that The Shack presents universalism. If it is not universalism, what position then, does it offer? [If this explanation is too long, sorry. I had material for more than double what I've placed here!]

Allow me to begin with an excerpt from The Shack:

“Who said anything about being a Christian? I’m not a Christian… Those who love me come from every system that exists. They were Buddhists or Mormons, Baptists or Muslims, Democrats, Republicans and many who don’t vote or are not part of any Sunday morning or religious institutions. I have followers who were murderers and many who were self-righteous. Some are bankers and bookies, Americans and Iraqis, Jews and Palestinians. I have no desire to make them Christian, but I do want to join them in their transformation into sons and daughters of my Papa, into my brothers and sisters, into my Beloved” (182).

There are at least three ways this passage can be read, but for the sake of the attention of my readers, I will focus on one: There are religiously practicing Buddhists, Mormons, Muslims, and even non-religious folk who are just as much followers of Jesus as Christians. Or we might say, some practitioners of other religious groups look a whole lot more like Jesus and live a life of agape love far better than some life-long members of Christianity.

On this reading, let’s pose the question: “Can a Buddhist/Mormon/Muslim go to heaven?” Well, for starters, since Buddhism can be conceived as a way of informing one’s life to connect with ultimate reality, rather than the worship of a particular deity, it’s certainly possible that one could engage in some of the life practices of Buddhism while maintain faith in Jesus Christ. As for Mormonism and Islam, if one views these religions as heresies of Christianity rather than entirely different religions, it’s possible to conceive there are some within these ranks that have managed to connect with the real Jesus. Indeed, there is testimony of Muslims, based solely on reading the excerpts about Jesus in the Koran who have believed in Jesus, and “if anyone acknowledges that Jesus is the Son of God, God lives in him” (1 Jn. 4:15).

But this answer only speaks to the possibility of people with other religious labels to also be connected with the real Jesus through some level of [untraditional] connection to the historical Jesus. But is it possible to be rightly related to God without having knowledge of the historical Jesus? This is the question posed by Christian Inclusivism (CI), a position held in some way or another by Justin Martyr, Origen, Karl Rahner, C.S. Lewis, Brian McLaren, Tony Campolo, Dallas Willard, and even Billy Graham in recent days. CI preaches the orthodox message of the Good News of Jesus, but leaves open God’s grace and mercy to extend beyond the walls of Christianity. To state it otherwise, CI teaches that Christ is “the way” (Jn. 14:6), but he may even be “the way” for people who have never heard of Jesus or been exposed to Christianity.

Let me backtrack to help make this clearer. Some Christians hold that knowledge of the historical person, known as Jesus of Nazareth, who died and rose again as a 1st century Jew is necessary for salvation. This view holds that there is some salvific power in the name spelled “J-E-S-U-S” and knowledge of the historical person who bore that name is necessary. But if knowledge of the historical Jesus is absolutely necessary, then Abraham, Moses, David, Elijah, and every Old Testament saint do not qualify. Sure, the OT figures placed faith by looking forward to a future hope of a promised Messiah (as described in Gen 3:15; 12:3; 2 Sam. 7), but what they envisioned hardly amounts to Paul’s summary of the gospel message (1 Cor 15:3-4).

In other words, even the most fundamentalist, exclusivist Christians hold to some level of inclusivism. They must hold to some view of God’s mercy that extends beyond knowledge of the death and resurrection of Christ if OT figures are to be saved—as well as infants who die or the mentally incapable, a position held by many Christians.

In his latest book, Knowing Christ Today, Dallas Willard points out that belief in the “historical” Jesus was not even what his closest disciples needed to believe in. In John 14, “his closest disciples still did not know him (14:7-9), though they knew Jesus of Nazareth. It was not the historical Jesus that Philip did not know (v. 9). Who he was clearly amounted to much more than a carpenter of Nazareth… He was and is the eternal Word” (185). Thus, Willard distinguishes between the historical Christ and the “Cosmic Christ,” the eternal God and Savior.

Let’s put this conclusion into a question: Is it possible to be connected to Jesus, the Logos who was at the beginning with God (Jn. 1:1) without having knowledge of the historical Jesus? To this question, scholars throughout church history have answered, “Yes.” Justin Martyr, one of the first Christian theologians, suggested Plato, Socrates, and the Greek philosophers were Christians without realizing it by their commitment to the Logos (Reason) and their love for Wisdom/Truth.

Romans 2:14-16 suggests there will be Gentiles who stand before God on the day of judgment whose consciences will defend them even though they “do not have the law.” These individuals will be saved on account of God’s promise that “To those who by persistence in doing good seek glory, honor and immortality, he will give eternal life” (2:7). Those who seek the Good (God) through faith will find him (cf. Heb. 11:6), even if this search amounts to an extremely limited blind groping for an “unknown God” (Acts 17: 27, cf. v. 23). God has “overlooked” ignorant and imperfect worship of him in times past (Acts 17:30) and pursues and finds even those who were not looking for him (Rom. 10:20; Isa. 65:1)! Indeed, he accepts imperfect worship from all of us!

What would be the content of such a person’s faith if they had never heard of the man known as Jesus of Nazareth? Paul’s message in Acts 17 provides clues where he neither mentions Jesus’ name nor even alludes to any atonement theory (instead, he quotes from two sources of pagan literature!). We get the most cryptic allusion to Jesus, namely that God is going to judge the world via a “man” he has raised from the dead. This was the content of those who believed Paul’s message. Sure, Paul would have encouraged the believers to increase their level of knowledge about God; but if such scant information is all that is necessary to “reach out for [God] and find him” (v. 27), clearly we can posit the possibility of people who have never heard of Jesus, contemplating a belief in a Supreme Judge, being convicted of a need to be put in right relationship with him, and concluding that God somehow has taken care of it.

Keeping the Acts 17 account in our minds, we might look at this issue from a literary perspective. Jesus, as a redemptive image, is an archetype and parallels of his story and message can be seen both in the Old Testament and in the surrounding religious and mythical stories of his time. In the Old Testament, the redemptive acts in the stories of Joseph, Moses, Joshua (which is the Hebrew name for the Greek, Iesou, or Jesus), and David all foreshadow Jesus as Messianic figures). And Rob Bell notes, (in his Nooma video entitled “You”) that at the time of the 1st century, one of the most popular gods of the Roman Empire was Mithra, a god believed to be born of a virgin, was a mediator between God and man, and had ascended to heaven. And Caesar Augustus believed himself to be the son of God, sent down from heaven to inaugurate an unprecedented reign of peace (in fact the disciples, in Acts 4:12, borrow from Augustus’ most famous catch phrase, “there is no other name under heaven by which men are saved but Caesar”). Many similar parallels have been made between Jesus and gods from other religious traditions, such as the ancient Egyptian sun-god, Horus.

So if Jesus is the ultimate redemptive archetype that all of these messianic stories point to, if all of these other redemptive stories ultimately culminate and are fulfilled in Jesus, what is to prevent one from becoming rightly related to God through other “redemptive analogies” (to quote Don Richardson from the “Peace Child”)? Consider this: what if there exists a person who has read The Chronicles of Narnia but has never read the Bible (which is quite possible), who believes in Aslan, hoping his message is true, and whose life is changed by the truths of Narnia? Are they in right relation to God? Lewis himself suggests something similar at the end of The Last Battle when Emeth, a Calormene and follower of Tash winds up in “heaven” standing before Aslan, the real God he took for a myth. When Emeth sees Aslan, he recognizes him as the “Glorious One” and despairs that he had worshiped in ignorance all of his life. But Aslan explains to Emeth, who was a sincere seeker of the truth, that all the good deeds he did in the name of Tash (who does not really exist) must have been for Aslan, the author of all things good.

This scene raises the question, going back to Romans 2:7, what would it look like for someone without knowledge of Christ to persist in doing good and seek glory, etc? Certainly it would involve more than what it means to “be a good person” in our common understanding today, and it would have to involve faith over some belief that I can attain God’s pleasure through my own deeds alone. In this vein, Dallas Willard (180) recalls 1 John 4:7 - “Everyone who loves is born of God and knows God.” In other words, it is impossible to practice agape love without real connection with God. James reminds us, “Every good and perfect good is from above, coming down from the Father” (James 1:17). We might translate, all the goodness we see in the world, even the good actions of people, is evidence of God’s goodness in the world.

Who then determines if one passes such a test? I’m not running for that position and choose to leave it up to God. But CI leaves the door open for God’s mercy to extend as far as possible while providing an adequate interpretation of New Testament faith.

Finding God (Again) in Surprising Places

I also went to a worship service via Good Morning America this past week.

On Friday morning, U2 performed songs from their latest CD, “No Line on the Horizon” to a gigantic crowd at Fordham University in New York City. Five years after “How to Dismantle An Atomic Bomb,” they’re at it again.

“The future needs a big kiss/Winds blows with a twist/Never seen a moon like this/Can you see it too?” These words from “Get on your Boots,” a grittier, kinda-feels-out-of-place-on-the-disc song (there’s always one – like “Vertigo” last time around), get the service started. A song that extols the beauty of humanity (“You don’t know how beautiful you are/You don’t know, and you don’t get it, do you?”) amidst the many wars and atrocities that face our globe (“Rockets at the fun fair/Satan loves a bomb scare…I got submarine/You got gasoline/I don’t want to talk about wars between nations”). A playful song, no doubt, but with some good lines that can easily blow by you if you’re just trying to have a good time: “Here's where we gotta be/Love and community/Laughter is eternity/If joy is real.” There was a man who once said he was “surprised” by Joy (his name was C.S. Lewis). And there in the grit, in the chiming chords, in the talk of wars and bombs, there’s a prayer: “Let me in the sound/Let me in the sound, now/God, I’m going down/I don’t wanna drown now”).

Then the four-some move to the soulful, “Magnificent,” echoing the sounds from one of their earliest hits, “Gloria.” This is simply and totally a worship song. “I was born/I was born to be with you.” In the next lines, Bono describes the existential life of the believer, filled with the uncertainty of what’s to come: “...In this space and time/After that and ever after I haven’t had a clue.”

The wounded love of the Savior dying for us on the cross wounds us as well. And yet, only in this deep wound is there the healing that we need, like the painful scrapings of Aslan’s claws on Eustace’s dragon scales in Voyage of the Dawn Treader. The chorus exclaims: “Only love, only love can leave such a mark/But only love, only love can heal such a scar.”

U2, which first formed in high school, cracked a few jokes to the Fordham crowd, joking that they were so happy they finally made it to college. But truly, Bono’s career has been marked with singing (and a whole lot of social activism!). He croons: “I was born to sing for you/I didn’t have a choice but to lift you up/And sing whatever song you wanted me to.” His talents are a gift from God. And so, in joyful thanks he offers these gifts back up to God: “I give you back my voice/From the womb my first cry, it was a joyful noise.” Sounds like an exegesis of Psalm 100.

The crowd is bathed in the lines of the chorus over and over again. Then, the song ends with the truth that, one day there will be a great gathering of people from every tribe and nation and tongue. It will be a gathering of festivities, celebration, thanksgiving, and most importantly, worship. “Justified till we die, you and I will magnify/The Magnificent/ Magnificent/ Magnificent.”

For the third song in the set, Bono prefaces it: “This song is dedicated to all of you college students, as I know this is probably the theme for most of you. Its called ‘I’ll Go Crazy If I Don’t Go Crazy Tonight.” As the crowd roars, Bono looks up into the sky (he’s at a Catholic university), for a moment of confession: “No disrespect, Father.”

Phyllis Tickle, author of The Divine Hours, once said, “More theology is conveyed in, and retained from, one hour of popular television than from all the sermons that are also delivered on any given weekend in America’s synagogues, churches, and mosques.” If her perspective on pop culture is accurate (and oftentimes, I believe it is), Bono encapsulated all the books on apologetics in one line: “How can you stand next to the truth and not see it?” And yet, this song is also a song about doubt, about not being totally sure this life will meet its intended destination. Like Christian constantly being waylaid with doubt in Pilgrim’s Progress, the chorus rings: “It's not a hill, it's a mountain/As you start out the climb/Do you believe me, or are you doubting/We're gonna make it all the way to the light/But I know I'll go crazy if I don't go crazy tonight”

Each day, each step we take in this life, amidst the pain, the evil, the atrocities we see and hear of, amidst the dark nights of the soul, we tell ourselves, amidst all the constant assurances we receive, “I know I’ll go crazy if I don’t go crazy tonight.” We’re all looking for the “part of me in the chaos that’s quiet.” Bono asks the question we’re all thinking: “Is it true that perfect love drives out all fear?” (…then why do I feel this way… then why did this happen?…). And yet, he knows what he doesn’t need are trite clichés or reminders that God will never leave you nor forsake you. He sings: “Baby, baby, baby, I know I’m not alone/Baby, baby, baby, I know I’m not alone.”

Ultimately, the answer again is an existential one: Our assurance is garnered when we live out the gospel, when we be the change in the world that we want to see, when we live as the ambassadors to the world Christ has called us to be: “Every generation gets a chance to change the world/Pity the nation that won't listen to your boys and girls… Oh, but a change of heart comes slow.”

After the songs, the band members sit down for some Q&A. One of the hosts of GMA asked, “How is it, that, amidst all these rough times, these economic struggles, you can sings songs with such a good message, with such positive energy?”

Bono responds, “You know, Gospel music is great, but we prefer to sing music that is honest. Rock ‘n Roll always involves a bit of the Blues.”

A bit of a critique of Gospel/CCM… but a true one. I mean, really. This past week, I decided to check out some CDs from the library of a few recent albums of ‘Christian’ bands I used to listen to when I was in high school. Needless to say, I gave the discs one listen while I was cleaning the bathroom.

After the interview ended, U2 provided the crowd and viewers one more song: "It’s a Beautiful Day." And, indeed, it was.

Blessed to Be A Blessing

"A church is an organization that exists for the benefit of nonmembers"
- Archbishop William Temple

"Blessings not just for the ones who kneel... Luckily."
- U2, "City of Blinding Lights"

I've been struck time and time again by the fact that the spirit of Christianity - at least its intention - is a deep concern for the Other. Over and over the Bible reminds us that we are not to be about ourselves, that the riches and goodness bestowed upon us by God are to be shared not hoarded, humbly given to others rather than proudly worn as a badge. When God "called" Abraham, he said, "All peoples on the earth will be blessed through you."

This calling to the Other is pronounced throughout the Bible in a variety of ways:

"When an alien lives with you in your land, do not mistreat him. The alien living with you must be treated as one of your native-born. Love him as yourself, for you were aliens in Egypt. I am the LORD your God." - Lev. 19:33-34

"But I tell you: Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, 45that you may be sons of your Father in heaven.- Matt. 5:44

"Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse." - Rom. 12:14

Abraham was blessed to be a blessing to others. Israel was blessed to be a blessing to others. The Church has been blessed to be a blessing to others.

This is what "calling" or "election" means. Too often, election is branded as an "us versus them" signification, a delimiter that lets everyone know who is on God's side and who is not. But that is not at all what it entails. Election is not a position of significance or special importance, but a position of service. Emmanuel Levinas, Jewish philosopher, writes:

"It is the Infinite that appoints me... in order to designate me the unique and the elected, in the face of the other... As a call of God, this does not found a relation between me and Him who spoke to me. It does not found that which, by some sort of right, would be a conjunction... In the call to me, I am referred to the other man through whom this call signifies."

This is how Jesus said the same thing: 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.' (Matt 25:40).

What would this look like if our organizations, churches, ministries, Christian companies, Christian lobbyists (which do exist!), and we ourselves as individuals took this message to heart? What would America look like if those who claimed to be Christians actually lived this message?

What would a church's budget look like if it committed to spend more of its money on people outside its walls than within?

What would a church mission look like if we were more concerned with blessing our world rather than shoring up our defenses and trying to add to our numbers?

What would happen if our country spent more money on humanitarian aid than homeland security and militarty expenses?

What would our friendships look like if we were more concerned with the person as such - their needs, dreams, pains, and life circumstances - than trying to convert them, or determining if their opinion on some political or theological issue was the same as ours, or making sure our opinion was known?

In Philippians 2, it says that Jesus "emptied himself." The Greek word for this is kenosis. He was not concerned about his own preservation. He lived by this strange irony that serves as a mysterious principle in the cosmos - that one must die in order to live. What if all of our lives were lived through a lens of kenosis?

If you think about it for a while, you realize how far the church has gotten away from this. The Church today is an empire, an institution, an organization. Churches construct massive buildings to preserve their identity in society. Don't get me wrong. I love going to Europe and seeing the beautiful cathedrals. But the paradox of Christianity is that its supposed to always be on its last breath, always on the point of extinction for the sake of the Other, always giving away to those who cannot give back so that it must desperately pray for "daily bread."

I admit, I fail miserably at blessing others. I am a scrooge when it comes to my money. I want to save and preserve my assets so I have them in the future for myself. I don't misunderstand election as a badge to be worn and proudly displayed, but neither do I readily take up the basin and the towel and serve as a conduit of God's favor, blessing, and grace.

I must ask myself, if God's self-emptying Spirit lives in me, why is this way of life so stinking difficult?