Here Comes the Judge!

He (Jesus) will come again to judge the living and the dead. (The Apostles Creed)

That sounds ominous!

And for many, it is.

Because our view of judges, especially for those of us living in the US, is that of public officials, sitting behind high desks, wearing intimidating robes, banging gavels, passing sentences and pronouncing punishments on wrongdoers.

As a result, our view of judgment is filtered through a punitive or punishment-driven filter.

In essence, punitive justice is punishment that fits the crime; an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, etc.

And that’s often what comes to mind when we confess that Jesus will come again to judge the living and the dead: One day we will all stand before the high court of God, with Jesus on the bench, dressed in a stark robe, passing sentence on those who rejected him, punishing them by sending them to hell, and welcoming those who received him into heaven.

The case for a punitive Judge Jesus goes something like this:

Question: How Can a Loving God Send People to Hell?

Answer: It is precisely because God is good that he sends people to hell. God is a fair judge who punishes evil and rewards righteousness.

God is good, so he must be just.

• Goodness and justice are inseparable.

God is just, so he must punish.

• God is a righteous judge who will not ignore evil. Hell is the expression of his just punishment against sin.

• Hell is fair.

In his goodness, God has provided a way to escape hell at great cost to himself.

• Jesus took our punishment (God’s anger) onto himself so that we don’t have to suffer God’s justice.

This view of God assumes that justice is punitive. And since God is just, God must punish.

The starting point for God’s character, then, is God’s anger and wrath. God is hell-bent on punishing our sin so he takes it out on Jesus. Sin must be punished.

Because the foundation of justice is punitive.

Or is it?

What if there is another way to speak of Judge Jesus? What if his justice is not fair? After all, who will stand a chance if Jesus is fair? What if his justice is recklessly unfair (or fair in that it’s recklessly unfair to everyone!), built on the foundation of grace rather than punishment?

Theologian Jurgen Moltmann (In the End—the Beginning: The Life of Hope) raises some challenging questions around our punitive view of God’s justice:

If the judging God is at the centre, no one knows how righteous he or she has to be. Everyone is delivered over to the unknown judgement of God.

If the responsible human being is at the centre, no one knows what future he or she will arrive at, because voluntary human decisions can vacillate.

If the God of wrath is at the centre of judgement, we must despair of God; if the freely deciding human being is at the centre, each of us must despair of him- or herself.

According to both ideas, human beings are really the masters of their own fate, or their own executioners. In both cases the role of God is reduced to that of executor or accomplice of the human being’s free choice. Heaven and hell become religious images which endorse human free will.

The view of a punitive God is a view devoid of hope and good news. It puts all of the pressure onto us, and we simply can’t stand under it. It lacks Gospel.

Thankfully, the Gospel is Good News. Good News about a God who is for us. A God who runs to us in our brokenness and sin and puts us back together. A God who through Jesus uses restorative justice—a justice that puts to rights what we put to wrong. A justice immersed in grace, not anger or condemnation.

In other words, a justice that is radically and recklessly unfair in that we are not treated as we deserve! And that is great news!

You can reach me at Tim@TimWrightMinistries.org

How Can You Believe in a God Who Sends People to Hell?

I want to start off with a question of my own as we jump into this big, tough issue:

Why is a belief in hell—an eternity of horrendous torture mandated by God—the litmus test for true Christianity?

I was born into and raised in the Church. And like the overwhelming majority of Christians, I believed in heaven and hell: That those who believe in Jesus, no matter what kind of people they are, will go to heaven; and that those who reject Jesus, no matter what kind of people they are, will fry in hell.

Admittedly, it seemed to make sense. God, in Jesus, has made it possible for us to live in relationship with God. That relationship is one of grace and forgiveness. If we choose to reject that overture of love we’ll live with the consequences—forever.

But as I began to wrestle with my understanding of the character of God, I realized that my starting point was wrong. I recognized that the starting point for God’s character is not that of an angry judge but that of a radically gracious parent. And if that’s the true character of God, the issue of hell becomes increasingly problematic. If God truly is lavishly and recklessly gracious, then how can that same God be capable of creating such a horrific eternity for those who might reject that grace?

For a while I tried to say that hell is, in essence, an act of love. Love forced is not love but abuse. A loving God will not force God’s self on us. If we chose to reject God’s act of love in Jesus, God will love us enough to respect that choice. God, out of love, would not want to force us to spend eternity with him.

But still… it didn’t answer all the questions:

• Is my rejection of God’s love stronger than God’s love for me?

• Does my free will usurp God’s grace?

• Will the God who goes to the cross for us finally give up on us?

• Is God’s grace bound by human time and space?

Or, as my friend, the late BJ Thomas, put it in one of his songs: I wonder why the pure in heart… they have to have a judgment day. I wonder what the Lord has made… that he plans to throw away.

 One blog post will not solve the problem of hell.

 But I want to suggest a starting point by going back to the story of the Prodigal Son which I referred to in another post.

 The Context: Jesus is caught red handed in the act of eating with the wrong kinds of people: sinners and tax collectors—those the religious leaders had written off because they believed God had written them off. No self-respecting Jewish Rabbi would debase himself in such a way. By eating with these people Jesus was in essence treating them as friends and equals. And in the process, ceremonially defiling himself. In response to criticism from the religious elite, Jesus tells the story of a father of radical, reckless grace.

 A quick summary:

1)    The younger son asks for his father for his inheritance early bringing shame onto the father, his family, and his village. Strike one.

2)    The younger son takes his money to a non-Jewish (unclean) land and wastes it all there on wild living. Strike two.

3)    The younger son ends up feeding pigs (unclean animals) for a gentile (an unclean person) in order to survive. Strike three.

Culturally, this younger son has gone beyond the point of no return. He is now considered dead to the village and his family with no way of redemption. Story over!

A major point: When the son decides to head home, he does not go home, as we often assume, repentant. He goes home defiant. He goes home with a scheme in place to manipulate his dad. He wants his dad to hire him in the hope that he can work off his debt, weasel himself back into the family, and receive his inheritance all over again when dad dies. This young man is still dead! He still rejects his dad’s love.

What does this have to do with hell?

Should the villagers catch the son walking into the village they will beat him up and banish him (to hell) from the community once and for all.

But notice what the dad does. And remember, this son is defiant. This son still rejects his father’s love!

The father (representing God) runs to this son who deserves only punishment and condemnation—and rescues him with grace.

• He throws his arms around his son to protect him from the mob.

• He puts the family robe around his shoulders.

• He puts the ring of sonship on his finger.

• He puts shoes on his feet.

• Then he throws a party for him!

All this for a son who, to that point, has rejected his father’s love!

As the father says to the older brother later: This son of mine was lost, but I found him. He was dead. But I made him alive again.

The grace of the father proved stronger than the rejection by his son.

The picture Jesus paints of God in this story is not one of a God who condemns people to hell but who runs to hell-condemned people and graces them with life. God runs to dead people—people who can neither reject or accept love—and raises them to life!

Theologian Jurgen Moltmann says it this way: According to this Christian view, neither God nor human beings decide about hell, but Christ alone: ‘I died, and behold I am alive for evermore, and I have the keys of death and hell’ (Rev. 1:18). What is Christ going to do with ‘the keys of hell’? ‘Christ hath burst the gates of hell,’ says Charles Wesley in his Easter hymn. So all its gates are open. Hell is no longer inescapable…  (In the End, the Beginning—the Life of Hope. 2004)

Or as John says it in his Gospel: For God did not send his son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world through him might be saved. (John 3:16)

Does God send people to hell?

The Cross says:  For God was in Christ, reconciling the world to himself, no longer counting people’s sins against them. (2 Corinthians 5:19)

The Cross says:

You were lost but God found you.

You were dead but God through Christ raised you to life.

You are the one clothed in the robes of grace.

You are the one wearing the ring of sonship/daughterhood.

You are the one wearing the shoes of forgiveness.

Because God’s grace will always have the final word…

And that word is life.

More next time.

You can reach me at Tim@TimWrightMinistries.org

The Trouble with God. Part 1

The God of the Old Testament is arguably the most unpleasant character in all fiction: jealous and proud of it; a petty, unjust, unforgiving control-freak; a vindictive, bloodthirsty ethnic cleanser; a misogynistic, homophobic, racist, infanticidal, genocidal, filicidal, pestilential, megalomaniacal, sadomasochistic, capriciously malevolent bully.
― Richard Dawkins, The God Delusion

Wow! I’m with Dawkins. Who would want to believe in a God like that?

“If God is all loving, and all powerful, why is there evil in the world? Can he not do anything about it. Does he choose not to? Is the evil in the world the result of his desire to give us free will? Ok then, what about famine and disease and floods and all the suffering that isn’t caused by humans and our free will? If God is loving, why does he send people to hell?”  --Jon Steingard, Hawk Nelson.

If that’s what God is like, no wonder Christians are jumping ship. No wonder people want nothing to do with God.

This is the view many Christians and non-Christians alike have of God.

But… this God is nothing like the God of Jesus.

Jesus painted many pictures of God through his parables, actions, and death and resurrection. But perhaps the most shocking, radical, and dare I write, reckless, picture of God is found in Jesus’ story of the Father and his two sons.

(My thanks to Kenneth Bailey for his insights into this story.)

In Luke 15, responding to criticism from the religious elite that he spends too much time with the wrong kinds of people, Jesus tells a story in two parts. He uses this two-part story to show us what God is like.

The first part centers on a rebellious younger brother:

One day the younger son approaches his dad to ask for his inheritance early. In Jesus’ day, that very request was scandalous. In essence the son was saying: Dad, I wish you were dead. I’d rather have your money than live any longer with you!”

In no uncertain terms this young man was bringing shame onto his father. In an honor/shame culture, you couldn’t get any lower than that.

The father relents and gives his son the money. The son takes it and leaves his home and village.

Living in a small community, this request would have rocked the whole village. The son’s request not only shamed the father but the entire neighborhood. Should that son ever try to come back home the community would grab him, beat him, and banish him for life from the village.

Then it gets worse.

The son heads to a far-away land, code for a non-Jewish land, and spends all of his money on wild living. He eventually winds up broke just at the moment a recession hits the area. He’s forced to feed pigs.

The audience hearing Jesus tell this story for the first time would have been shocked and horrified. The son: 

• Insults and shames his father (and the community) by asking for the inheritance early—strike one

• Lives in a non-Jewish land—strike two

• Feeds pigs: unclean animals—strike three

From their perspective this young man was dead to them. Any chance of reconciliation was over. He was done.

Eventually the son realizes all he has lost and decides he’s going to take a risk and head home.

It’s at this point that Kenneth Bailey’s insights are important and profound:

We often hear that the young man goes home a changed man, ready to repent and humble himself before his father—throwing himself on the mercy of dad.

But that’s not the case. The son is not going home to repent. He is going home to try to pull another one over on his dad. He creates a scheme:

• He will admit the obvious—he can’t be a son again. But if dad will just hire him as a regular worker, perhaps he can pay back all that he lost, work himself back into his father’s good graces, and then maybe, just maybe, dad will let him back into the family.

This son is not repentant. He’s going to try to trick his father into letting him back into the family bit by bit. Nothing about him has changed!

As the son gets closer to the village, he must have wondered how he would make it down the street without the other villagers catching him first. If they do, they will beat him and banish him.

But surprisingly, he doesn’t have to figure it out.

Because to his shock, running down the street toward him is his father.

Again, Kenneth Bailey fills in the blanks.

In Jesus’ day a father, especially a man of import in the community, would never run in public. It would bring shame on him. And he would never lift his robes and run. It would ruin his reputation. A mom might run to her child, but never a dad.

But this dad didn’t care. He had to get to his son before the villagers did. He sacrificed his reputation and his character in order to reclaim his lost son and restore him before the villagers could carry out justice.

The father threw his arms around his son—to protect him.

He threw his robe around his shoulders—to say that he was under the Father’s protection.

He put a ring on his finger—to say that this is his son.

He put sandals on his feet—because servants go barefoot; sons wear shoes.

Then he led his son home and threw a party for this child who had rejected him, shamed him, and humiliated him; this son who came home to manipulate him one more time.

All of this an act of scandalous, reckless, lavish, irresistible grace!

And that, says Jesus, is what God is like.

God does not run to us to punish us. God doesn’t run to us out of anger to condemn us. God doesn’t wait for, or even expect us, to clean up our act before God embraces us. God isn’t hell bent on sending us to hell.

God always, and only, runs to us for one reason: To embrace us with grace. To clothe us with forgiveness. To put the ring of sonship/daughterhood on our fingers. To immerse us in the joy of his love for us.

It was the only time I ever saw him run

And then he ran to me, took me in his arms

Held my head to his chest

Said, “My son’s come home again”

Lifted my face, wiped the tears from my eyes

With forgiveness in his voice

He said, “Son, do you know I still love you?”

He caught me by surprise and brought me to my knees

When God ran, I saw him run to me.

--When God Ran by Benny Hester and John Parenti

That God of Jesus, by the way, is the God of the Old Testament, the God that Dawkins and so many others find so horrifying. That’s who Jesus sees in the arc of the Hebrew Scriptures. That’s his starting point for God.

And in looking at the tough questions about life and God, that’s where Jesus invites us to start as well.

But there’s another son, the older son, waiting in the wings, offering Jesus another chance to show us the real face of God.

If you want to connect with me you can do so at Tim@TimWrightMinistries.org