John Mark Hicks

What is salvation?

Seems like a simple question. Maybe, but maybe not.  There are certainly uncomplicated aspects to answering the question, but a “comprehensive” picture is an integrated one that explores the question from various angles.

The question may seem simple because it has often been answered simplistically. Or, perhaps better, it has often been answered with a focus on one dimension or aspect of salvation. And, in addition, it is often answered without a salvation history or redemptive history perspective, that is, the cosmic and communal dimensions of salvation have often been ignored or neglected in defining “salvation.”

In a series of coming posts, I want to explore this question.

My students know that I like charts…or at least drawing on the board (both chalk and white, though I prefer the white ones). Charts are helpful for “big picture” views, identifying various dimensions of the subject and organizing thoughts. But charts can also be constraining as they box us into particular ways of looking at a question and they are often reductionistic rather than illuminating. Nevertheless, I employ charts because they are more helpful than risky.

Below is a chart that I will explain in coming posts. 

Salvation is most often defined as the personal forgiveness of sins and a personal relationship with God (sector 1) but rarely described as a participation in the cosmic redemption of the creation (sector 8).

I will leave you to ponder the chart as you desire and anticipate (if that is the right word 🙂 ) the next post that will begin to unpack my wholistic understanding of salvation.

Peace, John Mark

When the Byzantine Emperor Leo V (866-911) wanted to dedicate a church to his recently deceased and godly wife, the Patriarch denied this requested.  Consequently, he dedicated it to “all saints” which, he assumed, would include his wife. Thus was born the Eastern festival celebration of “all saints” on the first Sunday after Pentecost.

In the West the origin of “All Saints” day is Pope Boniface V’s dedication of the Roman Pantheon (“all gods”) as a church dedicated to the Mary and the martyrs on May 13, 610 (which was the date of a pagan festival regarding the dead). The date was moved to November 1 by Pope Gregory III (731-741) and expanded to include “all saints.”

I am no expert on the history of “All Saints Day.” In fact, my acquaintance is fairly superficial.

I am not particularly enamoured with asking dead saints to pray or intercede for me, though I do not rule that out and God knows I can certainly use all the intercessors I can get.  But here is what I particularly enjoy about “All Saints Day.” 

The day is rooted theologically in the communion of the saints, all the saints, everywhere–“in heaven and on earth.” The festival reminds us that when we assemble as the body of Christ on earth, we assemble with the saints “in heaven.” We join their heavenly praise of God and the Lamb as depicted in Revelation 5 and we participate in the glorious joy of the saints that surround the throne of God.

We are not alone. We cannot see behind the veil, but John did in Revelation 7:9ff–which is one of the lectionary texts for All Saints Day. We are surrounded by witnesses according to Hebrews 12–another one of the lectionary texts for All Saints Day.

I find great joy, comfort and peace in this reality–and it is real to me. It is a moment when I share again the praise of God with my father, my first wife, my son, and many others I could name whose presence I miss. 

All Saints Day is a day to focus on this eternal communion between the saints through their communion with the Triune God. Called by the Father, redeemed by the Son and empowered by the Spirit we too stand in the presence of glory with the saints who have gone before. 

All Saints Day is a day to rejoice, a day to remember (much like “Memorial Day” for our veterans), and a day to participate in the doxology of the heavenly throne room.  Instead of debunking it or ignoring it, let us embrace the theological reality upon which it is based.

Let us join together this Sunday with saints all over the world and with all the saints in the heavenly throne room to praise the God who has loved us, redeemed us and is transforming us that we might fully become the image of the Son and his Father.

When God called Abraham, he promised blessings through which all the nations would be blessed (Genesis 12:2-3). Included in those blessings is the land promise (Genesis 12:6-7). The promised land is part of the Abrahamic promise.

This land promise is both overplayed as some identify the contemporary state of Israel with this land promise and undervalued as others see no fulfillment of this promise in Israel’s Messiah who is Abraham’s seed. The former think that the state of Israel is the fulfillment (or at least the beginning of the fulfillment) of God’s promise to Israel while the later believe the land promise no longer obtains after Israel was returned from Babylonian exile. I would like to propose an alternative as I don’t think either of the above options are viable.

Israel is described as the “people of [God’s} inheritance” (Deuteronomy 4:20; cf. 1 Kings 8:53) The land was part of Israel’s inheritance as the firstborn son of God among the nations (Exodus 32:13; Leviticus 20:24; Deuteronomy 4:21). One need only to skim the Torah, especially Deuteronomy, to recognize the central role the land plays as the inheritance Israel receives from Yahweh as God’s children.

Psalm 37 is a good example how the hope of inheriting the land, living in the land, and experiencing the goodness of God in the land is intergral to Israel’s joy in the Lord. Disturbed by the prosperity of the wicked, the Psalmist assures Israel that those who hope in and wait on the Lord will inherit the land. Six times the Psalmist promises–and Israel liturgically rehearses promise–that Israel will ultimately receive its promised inheritance. They will “inherit the land.” Jesus himself practically quotes Psalm 37:11 when he announces: “Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit the earth” (Matthew 5:5).

As part of the Abrahamic promise, the land is not conditioned by the Mosaic covenant. This means that the intent of God to fulfill his promise to Abraham is not conditioned by Torah-obedience. Whether the nation of Israel at any particular time or individuals within Israel at any particular time possess the land is conditioned on Torah-obedience, but the ultimate fulfillment that Israel would inherit the land is unqualified. It is as unconditonal as the promise of the Messiah is.

On the analogy of Paul’s argument in Galatians 3, the promise was before the law and is therefore not ultimately conditioned by the law. Israel will inherit the land as God promised Abraham. It is a divine promise and God keeps his promises. More explicitly, Paul notes that “it was not through the law that Abraham and his offspring received the promise” (Romans 4:13).

This is a significant point–a critical juncture. The Abrahamic promise belongs to the children of Israel. The land is part of the Abrahamic promise. The children of Israel will possess the land; it is their inheritance.

But who is Israel? Who are the children of Abraham? Paul is, I think, clear. Since the “promise comes by faith,” it is “guarenteed to all Abraham’s offspring–not only to those who are of the law” (e.g., Torah-obeying ethnic Israel) “but also to those who have the faith of Abraham” (e.g., including the nations). In this sense Abraham is the “father of many nations;” he is the “father of us all” (Romans 4:16-17). The Gentiles (nations) have been grafted into Israel through faith (Romans 11:17). Those who belong to Messiah–those in Christ–are the children of Abraham and thus heirs of the promise (Galatians 3:29).

But does this include the land? Yes, indeed. As Paul phrases it, Abraham was the “heir of the world” (kosmos)….not just the land of Palestine (Romans 4:13). The inheritance of the children of Abraham is the world–the whole cosmos.

This is not a land we possess by violence or by purchase. Rather, we receive it by faith in the Messiah and on the ground of the faithfulness of the Messiah. The “faith(fulness) of Jesus” secures the inheritance for Israel and we participate in it through faith (Galatians 3:22). The Messiah is the heir of the all things and we are co-heirs with the Messiah through faith (Romans 8:17).

The creation is the inheritance of the people of God. We yet await, according to Romans 8:18-25, the full adoption into the family of God when we our bodies are redeemed (resurrection) and the creation is liberated (new heaven and new earth of Revelation 22:1-4). That is our inheritance. John reminds of the whole Abrahamic trajectory (Genesis 17:8) with this language himself in Revelation: “Those who are victorious will inherit all this, and I will be their God and they will be my children” (22:7).

The Abrahamic promise was first given to ethnic Israel but, by faith and because of the Messiah, it includes the nations as well. Perhaps on the new heaven and new earth the redeemed of ethnic Israel will dwell in Palestine–in the land between the rivers of Egypt and Babylon–but the whole earth will belong to the people of God as they again reign on the earth with God. The kingdom of God will fill the earth!

I think this accounts for Paul’s language about inheritance. He writes about inheriting “the kingdom of God” (1 Corinthians 6:9-10; Galatians 5:21; Ephesians 5:5; cf. James 2:5). He praises God for the gifting us with the Spirit as a downpayment of our inheritance which will arrive when God has fully redeemed his possession (people; Ephesians 1:14–that phraseology is loaded with Hebraic expression and thought). Through faith, Paul writes, we are “qualified to share in the inheritance of the saints in the kingdom of light” (Colossians 1:12).

The fullness of the kingdom of God, which is yet future, is our inheritance. It is the ultimate fulfillment of the Abrahamic promise through which God will make Israel a great nation, a great name and bless all the nations. That promise includes the land–the whole cosmos, and it belongs to all those who place their hope in Yahweh’s Messiah.

Consequently, the new heaven and new earth as the renewed (new) creation is integral to the plot line of the story of God from Abraham to the eschaton. The earth is the inheritance of God’s people and one day the reign of God will fill it from the east to the west, from the north to the south. The whole earth, unlike its present condition, will be “Holy to the Lord.”

May your kingdom come, may your will be done, on earth as it is heaven!

The most heartfelt and gut-wrenching expression of Paul’s love for his own nation, his own people, for Israel is found in Romans 9:1-5. Israel, though gifted by God with wondrous privileges, had rejected God’s Messiah. Paul was heartbroken as he listed the gifts in an overflow of praise for God’s grace toward Israel.

Gift one: adoption. Israel is God’s firstborn son among the nations (Exodus 4:22). God created, or more relationally, fathered Israel. The kings of Israel were the sons of God (Psalm 2:7). God adopted Israel as his people and nation.

Gift two: divine glory. The Shekinah glory settled on the tabernacle (Exodus 40:34) and the temple (2 Chronicles 7:1). God gave his redemptive presence to Israel in a way that he did not give to the other nations. God came to rest within Israel just as God rested within his creation and walk among the people of Israel just as he rested and walked in the Garden at the beginning.

Gift three: the covenants. God entered into a succession of covenants with Israel. Beginning with the Abrahamic covenant, God invited Israel as a nation to become his people through the Mosaic covenant. God mediated his grace and mercy through the Levitical covenant and assured Israel of their status as his people through the Davidic covenant. The covenants meant that God was committed to his people, enjoyed communion with them, and would fulfill his promises.

Gift four: the Torah. God gave the law (Torah) to Israel as a gracious gift. It was not primarily or fundamentally a legal code but instruction about how to fully become the image of God in the world as a nation. The Torah guides Israel as they walk with God in the land of promise.

Gift five: temple worship. The temple (or literally, the latreia or liturgical service), with all the festivals connected to it, was God’s gracious invitation to enjoy communion through liturgy (songs, prayer, atoning sacrifices) and meal (eating sacrificed animals in community). The temple was God’s gracious but holy presence among his people. It was the place where Israel came before the face of God as a community. Temple worship was the assembled praise of God’s people.

Gift six: the promises. God promised Abraham a great nation (as numerous as the sand of the seashore), a great name, and land. God promised David that his descendents would sit on Israel’s throne forever. God promised restoration to an exiled Israel. God promised a new heaven and a new earth. The promises belong to Israel; they were not given to the nations as independent entities.

But the Messiah, who comes from Abrahamic ancestry, is the one through whom the nations also receive these gifts. These gifts now belong to the nations, to everyone who trusts in the Messiah. Through Abraham’s Messianic seed, we all become children of Abraham by faith because of the faithfulness of the Messiah (Galatians 3:7-14).

We, too, are adopted into the family of God and call God “Father.” We, too, experience the divine glory as the Holy Spirit dwells in us and we become the dwelling of God. We, too, participate in the covenants as both Abraham’s children and subjects of David’s reign. We, too, receive the Torah as Scripture that guides us. We, too, assemble in the presence of God to praise and serve him as a gathered people, that is, the church is the temple of God. We, too, are heirs of the promises of God to Israel.

We are heirs, co-heirs with the Messiah. What God promised to Abraham belongs to us.

And that includes the land……which brings me to the subject of my next post. 🙂

I have been joyfully engaged with a number of European Christians this week at Gemunden about an hour northwest of Frankfurt. 

Beginning with creation, we have talked about the missio Dei as we are created as co-rulers, co-creators and partners with God in the emergence of creation. But we autonomously chose our own agenda and tumbled into brokenness, death, despair and frustration.  God chose Israel as a nation priviledged with blesings in order to bless but instead became autonomous itself. Instead of blessing the nations they became like the nations.

Jesus, the incarnate Word, became human in order to begin anew–a second Adam, a true Jew, a true human. He embraced the missio Dei and was faithful unto death. His resurrection is the introduction of new humanity–he is the firstborn from the dead, the new human–the first of the new creation.

Exalted to the right hand of the Father, he poured out the Holy Spirit as a downpayment of the new creation, the glorious inheritance of the saints of God. Our inheritance is a new heaven and new earth in a new Jerusalem–the renewed earth full of justice, righteousness and peace where heaven is on earth as God reigns forever with the saints in the new creation.

This scenario is set over against the oft-repeated idea that our goal is “get saved and go to heaven.”  Irene, a well-studied and devout believer, posed this significant and insightful question:

If heaven is where we want to go, why does God create a new heaven? What’s wrong with the “old” heaven?

To which I responded:

If heaven is where we are to go, why does God create a new earth? Why does he need an earth at all?

Bill, another brother at the conference, reported a conversation with a new believer that questioned why one would want to go to heaven when our mission–from creation till now and in the new heaven and new earth–is on the earth.

Eschatologically, we do not go to heaven, but heaven comes down to earth. God will come to dwell with his people upon the earth.  The New Jersualem will descend out of heaven onto the earth–there and then, fully and face-to-face, God will be our God and we will be his people.

We do not “fly away” but we are planted in the earth to grow, mature and blossom throughout eternity.

Last January I began a series surveying the privilege of women to speak or their restricted silence within assemblies of Churches of Christ from 1897 to 1907.  I never completed the series because Discipliana (the journal of the Disciples of Christ Historical Society) was interested in publishing an article on the topic.  That article will soon appear in the Fall issue of the journal.

I have now restored access to the blog articles.  They are available at “Silence or Privilege? Women in Churches of Christ, 1897-1907” (1, 2, 3, 4).  In the next few days I will post the final installment, part 5.

The posts tract the varying positions of the Tennessee Tradition (the most conservative and influential on this issue), the Sommer (or Indiana) tradition (the most progressive and limited in influence), and the Texas Tradition (a strange mixture that ultimately merges in opinion with the Tennessee Tradition).

By the mid-20th century, Churches of Christ had silenced women in their assemblies except for singing and baptismal confessions as well as excluding them from teaching males in Bible classes.  But it was not always so among them.

If interested, read the previous posts and soon I will complete the series in my next post.

Blessings

John Mark

[For those interested, a video of my 2007 sermon on the baptism of Jesus at Sycamore View Church of Christ in Memphis, TN, is available here (October 21, 2007) and my 9/6/09 sermon on the baptism of Jesus at Woodmont Hills Family of God will be available here soon.]

Luke’s description of the baptism of Jesus is succinct, but filled with significant language which is played out in the whole of his narrative (Luke 3:21-22).

Now when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying, the heaven was opened, and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

Given the theology of John’s baptism in Luke, it is quite surprising to read that Jesus was baptized along with “all the people.” The people and Jesus shared the same baptism—a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins (Luke 3:3). Jesus underwent the cleansing ritual that announced the coming of restored Israel. But why does Jesus need cleansing?

The baptism of Jesus has been a central aspect of Christian art and piety from the beginning. The earliest piece of Christian art, and the most frequent scene depicted in the earliest centuries, is the baptism of Jesus. The Christian festival of Epiphany, celebrating the baptism of Jesus, was practiced in the East as early as the late second century, which is well before Christmas was ever instituted. By the late fourth century, Epiphany was the most significant feast in Syria. The reason for this emphasis is that the baptism of Jesus was the “dominant model for Christian baptism.” The baptism of believers was patterned after the baptism of Jesus. Indeed, we believe Luke intended this very pattern.

The baptism of Jesus is a model for Christian baptism; it is the first Christian baptism. It participates in the reality of John’s baptism as a cleansing ritual but it also participates in the “last days” of Christian baptism as the context for the reception of the Holy Spirit.

On the one hand, Jesus identifies with sinners through the waters of John’s baptism. He undergoes a ritual designed for penitent sinners. He goes down in the river with “all the people” and identifies himself with the people. Jesus’ baptism is not the baptism of a righteous man who needed no cleansing, but is the identification with a people who needed cleansing. Jesus dives in with his people looking for the kingdom of God. This is, of course, exactly what Jesus did in his own death. Quoting Isaiah 53:12, Jesus characterizes his own death as one who was “counted among the lawless” (Luke 22:37). When Jesus went down to the river, he counted himself among the lawless as well. Not because he was himself a sinner, but that he identified with his people. He shared their corporate identity and underwent a cleansing ritual designed for sinners. Jesus was one with his people, both in his death and in his baptism.

On the other hand, Jesus experienced something that his people had not yet experienced, and would not experience in Luke’s narrative till the day of Pentecost in Acts 2. When Jesus was baptized, “the Holy Spirit descended upon him” (Luke 3:22). In this moment, as Peter later recalled in Acts, Jesus was “anointed…with the Holy Spirit and with power” (Acts 10:38). This anointing involves several ideas. First, it is the promise of divine presence. The Holy Spirit now abides with Jesus and leads him (cf. Luke 4:1). God is present with his Son. Second, God anoints his Son with his Spirit. It is a divine commission. The Son is given the Messianic task—it is the Spirit-anointed task of the Messiah to “preach good news to the poor” (Luke 4:18). This anointing involves the power to carry out that task so that the Messiah demonstrates the presence of the kingdom of God by casting out demons by the Spirit of God (Luke 11:20; cf. Matthew 12:28). Third, this anointing is a public divine declaration of God’s relationship to his Son (Luke 3:22). God owns his Son in this moment.

As a model or paradigm for Christian baptism, Jesus’ baptism is our baptism. We undergo the same repentance-baptism as John proclaimed, but we also experienced the divine blessing of the Holy Spirit. God gives his Spirit to us, anoints us with his Spirit as we are empowered for ministry and publicly declares our relationship to him as his own children. We are adopted into the family of God and God sends his Spirit into our hearts crying “Abba, Father” (Galatians 3:26-4:6).

But not only this—in this baptism, Jesus commits himself to the way of the cross. Immediately after his baptism, Jesus experiences the wilderness where he is tempted by Satan to turn from the way of the cross. But Jesus’ experience in baptismal waters is his commitment to experience the baptism of suffering (Luke 12:50). Jesus’ own baptism in water anticipated this baptism into death, just as our baptism in water is both a participation in the death of Christ and an act of discipleship that commits us to the way of the cross as well. If we follow Jesus into the water, then we must follow him to the cross also (cf. Luke 9:23-26).

Taken from Down in the River to Pray, pp. 53-54 by John Mark Hicks and Greg Taylor.

The baptism of Jesus is the first Christian baptism.

Jesus identifies with sinners as he undergoes a ritual designed for sinners. He publicly declares his faith in God and joins the story of God’s people in the anticipation of restoration. He anticipates and foreshadows his own death and resurrection in a ritual through which future believers will participate in his death and resurrection. He is anointed with the Holy Spirit and encounters the voice of God in this sacramental moment.

The baptism of Jesus is a profoundly rich theological resource. The early centuries of the church recognized its importance though adoptionistic controversies in the West undermined its paradigmatic import there while it remained the pattern of Christian initiation in the East. Liturgically, the baptism of Jesus as an ecclesial festival was more highly prized than Christmas till later centuries. Artistically, it was the most depicted event in the life of Jesus in the ancient church.

Unfortunately, the baptism of Jesus has been relegated to the status of a mere example for believers at best and as a unique unrepeatable moment in history at worst.

Alternatively, I advocate for a restoration of the significance of this moment for Christian theology.  While there are many theological directions to which it points–and all of them deserve careful attention (as my second paragraph above indicates), in this post I want to focus on two points that are important for Christian discipleship.

As disciples of Jesus, we follow Jesus into the water. But what is the meaning of this in the light of Jesus’ own baptism?

At one level, Jesus owned the divine mission (missio dei) as his own in this act of surrender. Immersed by John, he surrendered his life to the purposes of God. He pursued those purposes in his ministry. Luke, in fact, correlates the baptism of Jesus and the ministry of Jesus–Jesus is baptized and then he begins his ministry (Luke 3:21-23). At his baptism, Jesus becomes–in a significant sense–a disciple of God as he embraced the mission and ministry of the kingdom. He became a God-follower with a public ministry in the kingdom of God.

At another level, Jesus encountered God in this baptismal moment. Not only was he anointed with power by the Holy Spirit which enabled his ministry, but he heard the voice of God. What he heard is important–he is a beloved son in whom God delights.  It is unfortunate that some seemingly reduce this divine pronouncement to “Good boy, Jesus!” Rather, it is a profound declaration rooted in Psalm 2:7 and Isaiah 42:1, 62:4 of deep joy and love.  It is a celebrative word from God as God rejoices in his son. Moreover, it is the inauguration of a renewed community–restored Israel.  Jesus is the first member, the firstfruits, of that community.

This baptism is our baptism.

When we are baptized we own the divine mission as well. We surrender our will to the divine agenda, to the kingdom of God. We embody the prayer, “Your kingdom come; your will be done.” We follow Jesus into the water to become disciples of Jesus. Baptism is a discipleship maker–both in the life of Jesus and in our own lives.

Also we encounter God in this sacramental moment. The words Jesus heard are not simply for him. They are about us as well. Arising out of the water we have become part of the community that God names “Hephzibah”–the one in whom God delights. That is our name. We, too, are beloved children of God. The divine blessing voiced at the Jordan River is heard at every faith-engendered baptism.

As I recall my own baptism at eleven years of age, I know it was not perfect. I was baptized to be saved from hell; I didn’t want to go there. But I also know that my baptism arose out of faith, even if it was as small as a mustard seed. But I don’t have to know everything about baptism to experience God’s grace through baptism. It was simply enough that I acted in faith.

But as I remember my baptism, I remember the baptism of Jesus as well. His baptism is my baptism just as his death is my death and his resurrection is my resurrection.

I remember that I committed myself to the way of the cross, the mission of God and to the ministry of the kingdom.

And…I remember that God sang over me in that moment. God announced that I was his child, a beloved child. Even now I hear the voice of God say–despite all my failures and faults–“I am delighted with you!”

God, even with my sins, celebrated me then and he continues to rejoice over me. I am his delight!

Why does God need to rest? Is he fatigued? It must have been exhausting work for God to create the cosmos, the earth and everything in it, right?  NOT!

So, why did God rest?

In some of the ancient creation myths the gods built their own heavenly sanctuary when they finished their creative work (or battles) and sat down on their heavenly thrones to rule the new cosmos. Yahweh is a bit different. Yahweh does not construct a heavenly sanctuary or temple, but the earth and sky are his sanctuary.

Architectural construction is one of the more common metaphors for creation in the Hebrew Scriptures. For example, when Yahweh questioned Job about creation his questions are framed in architectural language:  “Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundations?…Who marked off the dimensions?…Who stretched a measuring line across it?…who laid its cornerstone?…set its doors and bars in place…” (Job 38:4-10).

When God created, he was constructing his temple, a sanctuary, in which God would live with his people. The Psalmist parallels the creation of the earth with the construction of the Tabernacle. “He built his sanctuary like the heights, like th earth that he established forever” (Psalm 78:69). The Tabernacle was a poor substitute for the earth, but it was the beginning of a renewal of God’s redemptive presence among his people.  God would come to the Tabernacle (Exodus 40), and then he would come to the Temple (2 Chronicles 6:40-7:3). When the first couple was excluded from the Garden of God’s Temple, God did not forget them but pursued humanity through the calling of Abraham and his presence in the Temple.

God would then come in Jesus as the incarnate presence of God in the flesh. The flesh became God’s temple, his dwelling place (John 1:14). When Jesus ascended to the right hand of the Father, God poured out the Spirit upon his people and the Spirit of God rested upon them and dwelt in them. Now we are the temple of the living God (1 Corinthians 6:18-20; 2 Corinthians 6:14-16). In the new heaven and new earth there is no temple except that the whole of the new creation has become the temple of God because the Father and the Lamb are there (Revelation 21).

But the story began with creation. It began with the construction of God’s temple in which God would dwell with his people. The whole of creation is God’s temple or at least would become his temple with the sanctuary located in the beginning within Eden. “Heaven is my throne, and the earth is my footstool,” Yahweh declares. “Where is the house you will build for me? Where will my resting place be? Has not my hand made all these things, and so they came into being?” (Isaiah 66:1-2a).

When God finished his temple, the creation, he “rested” in it. He came to dwell in it, to love his people, walk with them in the Garden and enjoy the shalom he created. When God finished creating, he declared it “good,” that is, pleasing, beautiful, and delightful. God rejoiced in his works (Psalm 104:31) and rested in them.

God’s rest is his delight and joy in his creation; he enjoys what he created and blesses it through his presence within it.

God created the cosmos as his dwelling place–a place where he can dwell with humanity and the rest of creation, a place of communion, delight, righteousness and peace. The earth is his sanctuary and we are his people. God invites us into his rest that we might enjoy him (Hebrews 4:1-11).

N. T. Wright’s new book, Justification: God’s Plan & Paul’s Vision, is primarily a response to John Piper’s The Future of Justification: A Response to N. T. Wright though he engages others as well (e.g., Westerholm). For another extended review of Piper’s book, sympathetic to Wright, see Trevin Wax’s interaction with the book as well as his interview with Wright. 

Reformed theologians and scholars are disturbed by Wright’s defense of the New Perspective on Paul (NPP) and his, as they see it, rejection of the Reformation doctrine of justification by faith alone. Guy Waters, of Reformed Theological Seminary, has written a fair-minded and on point review of Wright’s new book.  If you want to read a good Reformed response to Wright, I think that is a good place to start.

I have no desire to pursue a point by point discussion in this post. Rather, I simply want to offer my thoughts on what I think is at issue in Wright’s book. I have not followed the “debate” over NPP and justification very closely in the past few years and consequently, to some extent, I am “out of the loop” on this one. But as one who has studied Refomed theology and read widely in Wright, I want to share what I think is significant about this particular contribution by N. T. Wright.

As I read Wright, his intent is to “go beyond the new perspective/old perspective divide” and appropriate from both perspectives since “both are necessary parts of what Paul is actually saying” (p. 212). The “emphases of the old and new perspectives belong…intimately together” (p. 200). Wright intends to present “Paul’s own majestic synthesis” where “old and new perspectives on Paul come together and, though tossed and tumbled about in the process, they are transformed and transcended, and together they give rise to prayer and praise” (p. 174-175). In many ways, the old and new perspectives “sit comfortably side by side” like a “parit of theological Siamese twins sharing a single heart” (p. 118).  For example, faith in Christ is both (1) our boundary marker rather than Torah works (NPP) and (2) the means of our justification before God (OPP).

I have shared this approach to the NPP and OPP for several years. I think the approaches can be complementary rather than antagonistic. But let me first point out where the NPP (as Wright presents it) would be problematic in terms of traditional Evangelical/Reformed/Lutheran theology. While there are many exegetical issues, my concern in this brief review is the theological points of contention–the soteriological questions. Here are a few:

• Centrality of Justification. Is the central soteri0logical doctrine of the Christian faith  “justification by faith alone”? Protestants, based on Romans and Galatians, have generally thought so. But Wright thinks the emphasis on justification in Romans and Galatians is primarily about the question of Torah or faith in Jesus as boundary markers of the people of God. Justification is not so much about individual appropriation of the forgiveness of sins (though it includes that!), but the identification of the covenant people of God (pp. 75-76, 242). The overemphasis on Romans and Galatians–particularly a stress on justification–creates an imbalance within Paul’s own theology (e.g., what if Ephesians and Colossians had been the center of the Reformation movement?) as well as an imbalance in relation to the gospel of the kingdom in the Gospels (pp. 43, 176, 248). Justification–as traditionally explained– is one piece of soteriology, but it is not the whole of it.
• Imputation of Christ’s Righteousness. Are we justificed by the forensic imputation of the moral righteousness of Christ? While Wright believes in a substitutionary atonement based on the representative faithfulness of Jesus who enacted the covenant for us, he does not believe it is necessary to read Paul as grounding this in the imputation of Christ’s moral efforts to our moral account (pp. 206-207, 217, 231-233). The faithfulness of Jesus is his “faithfulness unto death, the redeeming death, the dealing-with-sin death” which is the declaration that we are “in the right” (p. 203). Our present status (justification) derives from God’s righteousness faithfully enacted by Jesus and we claim this status through faith in Jesus.
• “Works” and Salvation. In what sense are we “judged by works” on the last day?  Evangelicals, Reformed, and Lutherans have generally relativized Paul’s language in Romans 2 (and other places) such that obedience (sanctification) does not function as a criterion of judgment. While recognizing the legitimate pastoral concerns about assurance, there is–acccording to Wright–a role for works in the eschatological judgment of God through love (not merit!) empowered by the Spirit (pp. 184-189).

Without reviewing Wright’s sustained argument in the book, his positive presentation which seeks to transcend the divide on the above three points looks something like this.

• Union with Christ rather than Justification is Paul’s central soteriological theme.  Justification (our present righteous status before God) happens through incorporation rather than vice versa (pp. 142, 151).  We are justified because we are united with Christ. If union with Christ is the central point, then we can more appropriately see how salvation is both declaration (staus–the traditional theological category of “justification”) and participation (life–the traditional theological category of “sanctification”). Indeed, historic Reformed theology has stressed this point, which Wright recognizes (p. 72).
• The righteousness of God is God’s faithfulness enacted through the faithfulness of Christ that gives those who trust in Christ a righteous status before God. The “righteousness of God” does not refer to God’s gift of the righteousness of Christ (p. 233) but rather to the God’s covenant faithfulness through Christ (p. 66-67). Justification is a forensic declaration in terms of status, and God’s declares his people justified (p. 69). It is a lawcourt verdict in terms of status which arises out of God’s righteousness–his faithfulness.
• The living sign of our status is a holy life enabled by the Spirit of God. Righteousness (justification) is also a term used by Paul to talk about life (or, in traditional theological terminology, sanctification). Wright’s critics claim that he is moralistic at this point and ends up saving people by their works, but this misunderstands his point. There is no “Pauline doctrine of assurance” without a “Pauline doctrine of the Spirit,” that is, where there are no signs of holy living, “there is no sign of life” (p. 237). Together, our righteousness status through faith in Christ and the living signs of that status enacted in our life by the Spirit, anticipate the final judgment of justification on the last day (p. 239). The “verdict already announced is indeed a true anticipation of the verdict yet to be announced” (p. 225), and that final verdict “will truly reflect what people have actually done” by the power of the Spirit at work in their lives (p. 191-2).

One of Wright’s major concerns is the introduction of ecclesiology, pneumatology and eschatology into the discussion of the doctrine of justification which, he believes, is lacking in some discussions of Justification. We might say it something like this:

• The sign of present justification is “membership in God’s people” (ecclesiology) “as the advance sign of soteriology (being saved on the last day)” (p. 147). This participation in the covenant community (church) is missional–“a people based on the work of the Servant and the work of the Spirit, who now carry God’s light, truth and teaching to the waiting nations” (p. 197). The gospel of the kingdom (which is missional ecclesiology), so prominent in the Gospels, must hearld that God has created in Jesus and by the Spirit a people who celebrate their status (forgiven) through extending God’s purposes in the world (p. 248).
• The Spirit is the forgotten member of the Trinity in many versions of Justification where God forgives sins in Christ and this is the essence of soteriology. When we recognize that righteousness is also about sanctification and eschatological judgment, then we look to the role of the Spirit as the one who sanctifies us and empowers us for holy living as signs of the future eschatological judgment (pp. 236-240).
• The present status of believers in Christ as justified is the already of an eschatological not-yet. It is an inaugurated reality that is only “partially realized” (p. 101). It will be progressively realized in us by the power of the Spirit and eschatologically verified on the day of judgment.  Faith in Christ “includes a trust in the Spirt, not least, a sure trust that” God will complete his work when the Lord comes again (p. 107).

If we are going to use “Justification” as a comprehensive soteriological idea, then it needs to include all the elements of soteriology–ecclesiology, Christology, eschatology, sanctification, pneumatology.  If we are going to use “Justification” as a narrow identification of the lawcourt declaration of status on the basis of Christ’s work, then we should not speak of “Justification” as the center (or even the most important aspect) of soteriology since it is only one part of the whole.

If we conceive it “broadly” (and this is one possible angle since “righteousness” is used to describe many dimensions of soteriology, including past, present and future–but there are also other angles as well), it seems to me that something like the following might find some common ground between the NPP and the OPP as well as represent Wright’s point in his book:

God’s covenant faithfulness justifies (declares righteous) those who are in the Messiah because he faithfully surrendered to God’s purposes and thus dealt with sin and death through his own death and resurrection. By faith we are incorporated into the Messiah and thus participate in God’s covenant community entrusted with God’s mission in the world. Empowered by the Spirit, this community anticipates the final verdict on the last day through heralding and embodying that verdict in the present as instruments of God’s kingdom purpose to renew the creation.

If both NPP and OPP can find agreement in such a statement, then perhaps the theological tempest might calm a bit and the mission pursued more vigorously. We can only hope, I suppose.