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Epistolary Diatribe in the Letters of Paul (No, really! It’s Interesting. I promise!)

By Jeremy Myers
12 Comments

Epistolary Diatribe in the Letters of Paul (No, really! It’s Interesting. I promise!)
http://media.blubrry.com/one_verse/feeds.soundcloud.com/stream/395511864-redeeminggod-epistolary-diatribe-in-the-letters-of-paul-no-really-it-is-interesting-give-it-a-listen.mp3

Epistolary Diatribe in Letters of PaulWhat a blog post title! Epistolary Diatribe … what???

But have no fear … it’s not as scary as it sounds. This article will really help you understand the letters of Paul. I promise.

Let me begin by asking you a question … If you had no quote marks, how would you indicate in a book or letter that you were quoting someone? Well, you would probably just state the quote anyway, and then use words like “said” to tell you reader you are quoting something.

Here’s an example:

Gary said I love elephants.

But notice that without quote marks, the sentence loses clarity.

It could be understood this way:

Gary said, “I love elephants.”

Or this way:

Gary said [that] I [Jeremy] love elephants.

Do you see? Without quote marks, one sentence can have at least two different meanings.

But it gets trickier than that. What if I am writing a dialogue between two or more people, and I now have to record what each person says … still without quote marks.

Here is an example:

Gary said I love elephants.
Tom said I love them too.
But I said both of them are wrong.

So you see? What EXACTLY was said is a little vague, but the context gives you some idea of what Gary, Tom, and I were talking about.

Ah, but now watch this …. if I quote someone without any quote marks, and if I don’t use the word “said” or even tell you who said it, I can almost guarantee you will know who said it and what they said:

That’s one small step for a man; one giant leap for mankind.

Do you know who said that and the context in which it was said? Of course you do (I hope). I didn’t have to use quote marks, and I didn’t have to use the word “said.” You automatically knew. (And yes, I quoted it correctly … according to the man who said it.)

Now, take the little bit you’ve learned here about quote marks and easily-recognized quotations and think back to the days of the early church when Paul was writing letters to the various churches he had planted. Many times, Paul wrote these letters to correct and refute some of the false ideas and teachings that were being taught within the various churches.

But guess what? There were no quote marks in Koine Greek (the language Paul used to write his letters).

So what did he do?

Well, he used a style of writing which was quite common for other letter writers in his day, which modern scholars have labeled “Epistolary Diatribe.” This is a fancy way of saying “A letter written to correct the wrong ideas of someone else.” And since this method of writing letters to refute others was quite common, people quickly and easily recognized it when it was happening in a letter.

Dialogue in Pauls lettersThis is especially true when we recognize that trained “readers” often “performed” the dialogue portions of the letters to a listening audience … many of whom could not read.

Some of the distinguishing marks of Epistolary Diatribe are as follows:

  • Famous quotes from the letters, writings, teachings of the person being refuted
  • The word “say” or “said” might be used (e.g., “You have heard it said,” Or “But someone will say.”)
  • A refutation begun with an adversative conjunction (e.g., “But” or “Of course not!”)
  • A gentle mocking, or name-calling, or the person being refuted (e.g., “Who are you, Oh man?” or “Oh foolish man!”)

These four clear signs are not always present, and so it is sometimes difficult to know whether a certain verse is Paul’s idea or a quote from someone Paul is refuting, but there are several very clear examples of this sort of “Epistolary Diatribe” going on in the New Testament.

Below are three clear examples (and yes, I know the last one is not from Paul, but it still gives a good example):

Clear Examples of Epistolary Diatribe

Romans 9:19-20

In this passage, Paul introduces the person who is objecting to Paul’s words by saying “You will say to me then.”

After this, Paul quotes what this objector is saying: “Why does He still find fault? For who has resisted His will?”

Paul begins his response in the typical way, by using an adversative conjunction followed by a gentle name-calling of the person. Paul says, “But indeed, O man, who are you to reply against God?”

From this, we see that Paul thinks that God has set up the world in a way that God’s will can be resisted. The objector disagrees and says that nobody can resist God’s will. Paul responds with a bit of irony, telling the objector, “By saying nobody can resist God’s will when God has said that people can resist His will, you are resisting God’s will.” It’s a brilliant move by Paul. I write more about this in my book, The Re-Justification of God, which looks at Romans 9.

1 Corinthians 15:35-36

Paul’s letter to the Corinthians is full of Epistolary Diatribe, especially since he is responding to a letter they wrote to him. So he quotes some of their letter, or what he heard that some people were teaching in Corinth, and then he responds to it.

In Paul’s discussion about the resurrection, he introduces the quote from another teacher by writing, “But someone will say.”

Then Paul quotes what they are saying, “How are the dead raised up? And with what body do they come?” In other words, the objector says that the idea of a resurrection is foolish unless we understand how it works and what our new bodies will be like.

Paul then sets out to refute this objection with a little gentle name-calling. He introduces his refutation with the words “Foolish one” and then goes on to explain more about the resurrection.

Note that the adversative conjunction was missing, but it was still quite obvious that Paul was engaging in dialogue with this other teacher.

James 2:18-20

It is not just Paul that uses Epistolary Diatribe. As mentioned earlier, this form of writing was very common. James, the brother of Jesus, uses it as well in his letter.

A clear example is found in James 2:18-20. In fact, recognizing Epistolary Diatribe in James 2 helps clear up a lot of the confusion surrounding James 2 and the role of faith and works in the life of the believer.

James is writing about the relationship between faith and works, and he introduces the objection by someone else in the normal way. He writes, “But someone will say.” And then James goes on to quote this ideas of this person who is objecting.

The interesting thing about this is that few Bible translations understand where the quote from this imaginary objector ends. If you consult some of the various Bible translations, you will see that in English, the end quote is inserted at different places in different translations.

The NKJV puts the end quote half-way through verse 18. The NAS puts the end quote at the end of James 2:18. But when we understand the signs of Epistolary Diatribe, we recognize that the quote of the objector goes all the way through verses 18 and 19. How do we know this?

Because James 2:20 has the adversative conjunction and then the gentle, derogatory name-calling. James indicates that he is now refuting the objector when he writes, “But do you want to know, O foolish man, that faith without works is dead?”

When we realize that James 2:19 and what it says about the faith of demons is not the ideas of James, but the ideas of someone who disagrees with James, this helps our overall understanding of the passage. I wrote more about this in my article “Even the demons believe” and have also taught about it in my study on James 2:14-26.

So those are just three clear examples of Epistolary Diatribe in the New Testament. There are several other clear examples, but I just wanted to point these out.

Now, there are many, many other passages in the Bible that likely contain Epistolary Diatribe.

Other Possible Epistolary Diatribe Passages

The problem with several of these other possible passages that contain Epistolary Diatribe is that they don’t always contain all four of the markers that I mentioned above. They might only contain one or two. Or none.

But again, what we have to recognize is that while it might be difficult for us to discern when Epistolary Diatribe is taking place, it was not difficult for the original audience.

They likely would have had someone play-act the dialogue out for them, with the reader using different voices, or maybe different hand gestures to indicate when a different person was talking. Also, they would have quickly and easily recognized the ideas and quotes from the teacher that Paul was refuting in his letter.

What if I wrote a letter to you which said this:

Sometimes I look at everything going on in the world, and I am afraid for the future. We must remember, however, that we have nothing to fear, but fear itself. And besides, God loves us, and perfect love casts out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. Nevertheless, although I know this to be true, I am still afraid sometimes. So when I am afraid, I remind myself of two things. First, I say “No fear!” and then I also say “Fear not!”

There were four intentional quotes from other sources in that paragraph. The first was from Franklin D. Roosevelt, the second from 1 John 4:18, the second was the old marketing slogan from the 80’s and 90’s, and the final quote came from Isaiah 41:10.

It is possible you picked up on all of them, though maybe you only recognized one or two. Now, if I had changed my voice in all the quotes, you would have recognized that I was quoting someone else, even if you didn’t know the source of the quote.

This, I believe, is exactly what was happening in the early church as the letters of Paul circulated around and were read in the various churches.

So here are a few possibilities of where this is happening.

Romans 1:18-32

Paul’s letter to the Romans almost certainly includes numerous Epistolary Diatribes in which Paul quotes and then refutes a prominent teacher in Rome.

Paul signing a letter amenuensisRomans 1:18-32 is sort of the introduction to what this other teacher was saying. Therefore, much of what we read in Romans 1:18-32 is not Paul’s ideas, but the ideas of someone that Paul wants to refute.

This is extremely significant, for it is only here in Romans that wrath is clearly attributed to God. Also, it is here that we read about God handing people over to their sin.

And all of these ideas do not come from Paul, but rather from a legalistic teacher whom Paul sets out to refute in his letter to the Romans.

And indeed, in Romans 2:1, we do have the clear sign that Paul picks back up with his own ideas to refute the ideas he just quoted. He does a little gentle name-calling and sets out to refute what he just quoted. “Therefore you are inexcusable, Oh man, whoever you are who judge…”

To read more on this, here are two articles which lay this out more:

Do you read Romans like an Arian?

A Rending of Romans 1:1-4:3 in Dialogue Form

This way of reading really helps bring clarity to Paul’s argument in Romans and his theology as a whole.

Romans 3:1-9, 27-31

Another sign that Paul is using Epistolary Diatribe in Romans in found in Romans 3:1-9, and 27-31. There is a back-and-forth dialogue that seems quite obvious and natural in the letter.

When we rightly discern which ideas are Paul’s and which ideas belong to the legalistic religious teacher Paul is refuting, the entire text makes much more sense.

Read the two articles linked to above for more help on this.

1 Corinthians 6:12-14

As with Romans, the book of 1 Corinthians is full of Epistolary Diatribe. With almost every new topic Paul addresses, he first quotes what was being taught in Corinth, or what they wrote to him in a letter, and then he sets out to answer their question or refute what they are doing and teaching.

Here is how to read 1 Corinthians 6:12-14 in light of this:

Corinth: All things are lawful for me.

Paul: But all things are not helpful.

Corinth: All things are lawful for me.

Paul: But I will not be brought under the power of any.

Corinth: Foods for the stomach and the stomach for foods.

Paul: But God will destroy both it and them.

Paul: (Extrapolating out to sexual immorality from this point about the stomach and food) Now the body is not for sexual immorality but for the Lord, and the Lord for the body. And God both raised up the Lord and will also raise us up by His power.

1 Corinthians 7:1-2

We can do something exactly similar in 1 Corinthians 7:1-2.

Paul: Now concerning the things of which you wrote to me [and I quote]:

Corinthian Letter: “It is good for a man not to touch a woman.”

Paul cautions against this: Nevertheless, because of sexual immorality, let each man have his own wife, and let each woman have her own husband.

Do you see? In this way, it is not Paul who is saying that it is good for a man to not touch a woman. It is the Corinthians who were saying this, and Paul is cautioning them against such practices. He goes on to explain why in the following verses.

I could go on and on. There are numerous other examples of Epistolary Diatribe in Scripture. For an exhaustive (it’s also an exhausting read … and a workout to even lift) explanation of this technique in Paul’s letters, get The Deliverance of God by Douglas Campbell. It’s an expensive book, and I don’t recommend that everyone read it, because of how technical it is, but he does provide a very good explanation and defense of Epistolary Diatribe.

Why am I bringing this up?

I had an on-stage 5-minute discussion with Greg Boyd at his ReKnew conference last September, and in my closing comment, I hinted at my belief that something else is going on in Romans 1 than what Greg Boyd thinks is going on. My discussion with Greg Boyd begins at about the 20:00 mark.

Romans 1:24 says that God gave people up, or handed them over, to their vile passions and depraved hearts. Greg Boyd thinks that this is Paul’s own idea. I think that since this idea does not at all reflect what we see in Jesus, or even what we see elsewhere in the writings of Paul, that we must conclude that something else is going on in the text.

And what is that something else? It is Epistolary Diatribe.

Romans 1:24 and the surrounding verses are not the ideas of Paul, but the ideas of a legalistic law-based religious teacher in Rome, whom Paul is quotes so that he can then refute him.

There are extensive clues all over in Romans 1-3 that this is happening, and I think that this approach helps make sense of these opening chapters of Romans in light of everything else in this letter.

So I have mentioned it to Greg, and I have mentioned it to you, but let me say it again: I do not believe that God hands us over to sin and Satan. He does not deliver us up to the destroyer. He does not withdraw His protective hand. He does not “Release the Kraken!” to have its way with us.

As we see in Jesus Christ from first to last … God always forgives, only loves, and will never, ever, ever leave us or forsake us, but will be with us, even unto the end of the age.

God is Redeeming God, Redeeming Scripture, Redeeming Theology Bible & Theology Topics: 1 Corinthians 15:35-36, 1 Corinthians 6:12-14, 1 Corinthians 7:1-2, Epistolary Diatribe, Greg Boyd, James 2:14-26, Letters of Paul, Romans 1:18-32, Romans 1:24, Romans 3, Romans 9:19-24

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Greg Boyd reviews “Nothing but the Blood of Jesus” and I Respond

By Jeremy Myers
13 Comments

Greg Boyd reviews “Nothing but the Blood of Jesus” and I Respond

Greg BoydIn one of his recent email newsletters (which you can read here), pastor and world-renowned theologian Greg Boyd included a review of my book, Nothing but the Blood of Jesus. Below is his review, interspersed with my comments and responses.

Before we get started however, let me state a critique of Greg’s critique. The vast majority of Greg’s critique of my book is focused on one-fifth of the book, namely, the two chapters on scapegoating. Yet the ideas in these two chapters were built on the ideas from the previous six chapters (two each on sin, law, and sacrifice). And as I read Greg’s critique of what I wrote about scapegoating, I gained the distinct impression that he had not seriously read the previous six chapters, where many of his concerns are addressed.

Even then, as I read Boyd’s critiques of scapegoating, I once again had the distinct impression that what I wrote was being misunderstood and misrepresented. For example, some of what Greg says I wrote about Achan in Joshua 7 is not actually found in my book. Yes, if certain statements are read out of context, I could see how Greg could get his ideas from what I wrote.

I feel that if Greg had let go of some of his presuppositions and had considered the five themes of my book as a whole, some of his critiques below would not exist.

All authors deal with this. Greg has said the exact same thing to me about my critiques of his cruciform thesis. In response, I have tried to listen more closely and read his books more deeply so that I might better understand. I also appreciate him taking the time to engage with me in dialogue.

So here is his review with my responses. His review is in the blockquotes.

I met Jeremy Myers at the ReKnew Cross Vision Conference and he graciously gave me a copy of his book, Nothing But the Blood of Jesus. I had read Jeremy’s review of my book, Crucifixion of the Warrior God (CWG) as well as other reflections of his on a Facebook page dedicated to discussing this book, so I was aware that our views overlap on certain points and diverge sharply at others. Reading Nothing But the Blood of Jesus clarified these points of agreement and disagreement.

It was great meeting Greg. I especially enjoyed meeting many of the other people who attended the conference, some of whom already knew me from my books and podcast.

Greg mentions the Facebook group, which he also mentioned at the conference in the Saturday morning session where he and I talked on stage for a couple minutes. At that time, I think he said the group was vitriolic. I never saw any vitriol there, but that might be due to the fact that I was not really active in this group. I never once made a post, and I commented a grand total of 12 times. So I find it strange that Greg associates me with the group. I hope he doesn’t think I am vitriolic.

Crucifixion of the Warrior GodHe probably associates me with the group because someone in the group created a post which contained my review of Greg’s book. They pulled the review from my site at RedeemingGod.com, which can be found here. I reviewed the follow-up summary volume, Cross Vision here.

Anyway, it’s not a big deal, but I was surprised at the conference (and here again) that I am associated with a Facebook group in which I had almost no involvement. Still, it’s a great group, and if you want to discuss the themes of Greg’s book, or non-violence in general, you can go request to join the group here. If you join, just don’t be vitriolic! Ha!

The central thesis of Jeremy’s work is that “the blood of Jesus” is the solution to the problem of sin not because it placates the Father’s wrath or somehow magically washes away our sin, but because Jesus’ death on the cross exposes the true nature of sin and calls us to live free from it. But before we can understand, let alone critique, Jeremy’s thesis, we need to know something about René Girard (1923-2015), a French historian and philosopher of social science whose work has proven increasingly influential in Western theological circles over the last several decades. The reason we need to first understand Girard is because Jeremy’s thesis is heavily reliant on the work of Girard.

I don’t know if “heavily reliant” is the right term. As any honest theologian will admit, my ideas are built on the shoulders of numerous scholars and authors who have influenced my thinking over my years of study and research. So, for example, at various places in the book, I give credit to Fleming Rutledge, John Sailhamer, Mark Biddle, and several others.

Furthermore, while Girardian thought did indeed influence my thinking on some areas, it is not actually his books that influenced me most, but the books of several other Girardian scholars, such as Mark Heim, Robert Hamerton-Kelly, and Gil Bailie. But regardless, I fully admit that Girardian insights into anthropology and sociology have influenced my thinking about life and Scripture, as have the views of Greg Boyd, C. S. Lewis, N. T. Wright, Sharon Baker, Robert Farrar Capon, Zane Hodges, Brian Zahnd, Brad Jersak, and numerous others. (Reading these people’s books will transform your life and theology!)

As Jeremy makes clear in his book (155-64), the core of Girard’s theory is that humans are by nature imitators. We thus find ourselves desiring what others desire, which leads to rivalry and, inevitably, to violence. Since everybody is subject to this process, all social groups would eventually descent into total anarchy were there not some mechanism for channeling our violence away from the group toward another. Girard argues that throughout history social groups have survived by placing the blame for the group’s inner conflict on a “scapegoat,” which typically is a person or group that is vulnerable and “different” from the majority within the group (164).

The inner conflicts of the group are overcome as they unite against this common enemy and punish them for their alleged crimes, usually by killing them. What they are actually doing, however, is projecting their own guilt onto this scapegoat and punishing this scapegoat as a means of saving themselves. One dies so that the others may live. This scapegoating process, argues Girard, is most frequently justified by claiming it reflects God’s (or a god’s) will, and the fact that the death of the scapegoat succeeds in temporarily restoring peace to the group is interpreted as a confirmation this conviction.

Jeremy shows how imitative (or mimetic) rivalry led to the first act of violence recorded in the Bible, when Cain killed Able (Gen 4). Jeremy finds it highly significant that this episode also happens to contain the first mention of “sin” in the Bible (42). For this and other reasons, Jeremy argues that mimetic rivalry and the violence and scapegoating that follows it is the “foundational sin” of the Bible (217), and it expresses the essence of sin throughout Scripture. Indeed, Jeremy claims that “[e]verything in Scripture is focused on revealing this one truth to us,” namely, that throughout history humans have “engaged in rivalry, accusation, and violence” (119, cf. 152, 179). In Jeremy’s view,

“This is why the Bible contains more violence than any other ancient religious text. The Bible places so much emphasis on war, violence, bloodshed, and sacrifice because God wants to reveal the true source of violence and sacrifice, and in so doing, put a stop to it. The Bible emphasizes sacred violence, not because God is violent, but because we are” (121).

As is true for Girard, Jeremy holds that Jesus is God’s solution to this foundational sin. God became a human and died as an innocent scapegoat on the cross to expose the lie that our scapegoating reflects God’s will. “He died to take away and bring an end to sacrifice…by revealing through His own sacrifice at the hands of men that God does not want sacrifice; we do” (151). Since “the sin of scapegoating is the primary sin of humanity since the foundation of the world…the primary task of Jesus [is] to deliver us from our slavery to this sin by both exposing it to us and showing us how to live differently” (197). Hence, Jeremy argues, Jesus “is the perfect revelation about the truth of scapegoating” (173).

Overall, this is not a bad summary … of about one-fifth of the book. The two chapters on scapegoating in the book are heavily dependent upon the six chapters about sin, law, and sacrifice, which are barely mentioned above. But as I well know, a book review cannot include every detail lest it become a book itself.

However, I feel that most of Greg’s criticisms below could have been avoided if the 40 pages he summarizes above were read in light of the other 220 pages.

There is a great deal to praise about this insightful work. The conviction that God’s nature is love and, therefore, that God is opposed to all forms of violence is beautifully expressed throughout this work. Related to this, Jeremy insightfully expresses the understanding that Scripture’s violent portraits of God are the result of people projecting their own sin (including their fallen conceptions of God) onto God. In the process of making a scapegoat out of others, he argues, we make scapegoat out of God, and God, in his patient love, allows us do it. Readers of my CWG and/or Cross Vision (CV) will have no trouble understanding why I appreciate these views of Jeremy.

On top of this, Jeremy does an excellent job showing how the cross exposes the sin of scapegoating and how it calls us to an altogether different way of resolving conflict, namely, forgiveness. Moreover, his several discussions of the law and sacrificial system as divine accommodations to the fallen state of God’s people were astute, as were his many trenchant critiques of the Penal Substitution model of the Atonement that run throughout this work. I also think most readers will be aided by Jeremy’s discussion of two different kinds of forgiveness in the New Testament (231-32) as well as by his discussion of Hebrews 9:22 (244-47), which has wreaked so much havoc with atonement theories, to be informative and helpful.

Particularly helpful to me was Jeremy’s argument that the reference to “the lamb slain from the foundation of the world” (Rev 13:8) “reveals that this is the way God has always been. He has always been an innocent Lamb who allows Himself to get slain for the sake of others” (203). I find this interpretation to be compelling, no doubt in part because it provides solid support for my claim (defended in CWG and CV) that God has always stooped to bear the sin of people, thereby taking on an ugly appearance in the biblical narrative that reflects that sin, just as he does on the cross. And finally, readers of Nothing But the Blood of Jesus will find they are given a clearer understand of what “the blood of Jesus” actually means – and, just as importantly, what it does not mean. For these and a multitude of other reasons, I recommend reading Nothing But the Blood of Jesus.

Thank you for the kind words, Greg! Now, let’s dive into the disagreements!

Of course, this is not to say the book is not without its shortcomings or that I agree with everything in it. Truth is, I consider several of our differences to be rather stark and quite important. Nevertheless, given our core agreement on God’s loving, non-violent nature and on the correct non-violent way to interpret Scripture’s violent portraits of God, my critiques should be understood along the lines of a friendly “in-house” debate. I’ll make two critical comments concerning the style of Jeremy’s work and four critical comments concerning its content.

First, while Jeremy has a very readable writing style, this book is frankly quite repetitive. Part of this is inevitable given that the book is organized around a discussion of five words (“Sin,” “Law,” “Sacrifice,” “Scapegoat,” and “Blood”) and, as Jeremy himself acknowledges, the meaning of each one is wrapped up with all the others. But much of the repetition is unnecessary. Repetitions are not only found throughout the book, but often in a single paragraph. To pick out one random example, Jeremy at one point says that Jesus

“…was innocent of all wrongdoing. Even though most scapegoats are guilty of some of the things for which they are accused, Jesus was completely innocent….Though the best scapegoat is a guilty scapegoat, the perfect innocence of Jesus reveals that scapegoats are typically not guilty of everything for which they are accused….Though Jesus did serve in the function of a scapegoat, He is not called a scapegoat because He could not justifiably be accused of any wrongdoing. Jesus was a scapegoat, but He was an innocent scapegoat.”

To this, I say, “Guilty as charged.”

I am intentionally repetitive, because I seek to explain new concepts to people in different ways using different words so that they understand what I am (and am not) saying. Only professional theologians and scholars are likely to quickly grasp the nuances of a particular statement, and so I hope that by stating the same idea in different ways, the point becomes clear.

On the other hand, maybe this is just a fault of all theology books. I personally found CWG to be quite repetitive, including numerous sections (even entire chapters) that could have been cut from the book without any detriment to the overall argument.

So could the book have been more succinct? Of course. Should it have been shorter? Maybe. Will the point of the book have been as clear with these subtractions? It all depends on who you ask.

I think an editor’s razor could have tightened up this paragraph as well as the entire book.

I paid for editorial services on this book. But again, this is a subjective criticism that I am not certain all share with Greg.

Second, and more significantly, with only a couple of exceptions, Jeremy doesn’t cite his sources. Now, this book is intended for a popular audience, so heavy footnoting is not to be expected. But even in popular works it’s customary for authors to cite sources from which they got their information and/or ideas. The most glaring example of this is that, even though Jeremy’s work is thoroughly indebted to Girard, he never once mentions him or cites any of his works. I am certain this is not intentional on Jeremy’s part, and it likely wouldn’t bother most lay readers. But protecting “intellectual property” is a huge deal among academics, and this omission would cause suspicion. Citation of sources would also help readers check out some of Jeremy’s more controversial claims and engage in further reading instead of just take his word for it.

I take great effort and care to cite my sources. I always cite a source when I know I am referring to them. I never cited Girard because although some ideas in my book are “Girardian” I have not found his books to be all that helpful for understanding his theory. Sorry, René!

Maybe a quick summary of my approach to writing will help shed light on the lack of footnotes. When I want to study a topic, I buy and read every book I can think of on the subject. Then to solidify the ideas in my own mind, I sort through the ideas and arrange them in a logical order (at least to me). Then I write it all down. I rarely go back to look at the books I read. I say this with apologies to all the authors I have read that didn’t get mentioned in the book. I know it is a weakness to my writing approach … especially with this book.

Probably what I should have done (and will do in future editions) is include a list of suggested resources at the end of the book. This list would have begun with a statement that the following books were highly influential in helping shape my views and ideas in the book.

Part of problem with this book in particular, however, is that I never planned to write it. During my reading and research on the problem of divine violence in Scripture, I planned to write a book titled When God Pled Guilty. Currently, that book sits on my computer hard drive at 200,000 words with several hundred footnotes. I shelved that book about five years ago to write a different book, which became seven books, which I am now in the process of writing. I never planned to write Nothing but the Blood of Jesus.

But one night, in my weekly discipleship group study, as I was explaining some of the content from one of those seven forthcoming volumes, the outline for Nothing but the Blood of Jesus popped into my head, and I knew I had to write it. So I did. It took a couple weeks of frantic writing, pouring out the “fire in my bones” onto the written page, but the entire book was written in a very short span of time. This accounts for most of the lack of footnotes in the volume. But ample citations are in the original volumes, which will be published (hopefully) in the next several years.

Nevertheless, numerous citations do not prove the accuracy of an argument. Anybody can quote dozens of sources, just as anybody can quote dozens of verses. Arguments must be dealt with on their internal logical and merit, and nothing else.

My approach to writing also suffers from one other drawback. Unlike Greg (and most other scholarly authors), I don’t have a team of research assistants to help me track down resources. I don’t have a Paul Eddy. I don’t have any grad students. It’s just me. And while I do try my absolute hardest to give credit where credit is due, I often forget where an idea might have come from, and so fail to provide a citation.

However (and this is not an excuse), all authors neglect to cite sources … even Greg. What I find most interesting about Greg’s critique on this point is that although he himself included hundreds of footnotes in his book, he did not include various resources which he himself had referred to elsewhere in his writings as helpful. For example, Greg wrote on his blog that he had enjoyed reading the insights of Marilyn Campbell’s book, Shedding Light on the Dark Side of God (which is now titled Light Through Darkness).

Yet Greg never once cites Marilyn in his book. Does this mean he didn’t learn anything from her after all? Or maybe Greg doesn’t feel that he needs to cite self-published authors? Is it because she’s a woman or doesn’t have a Ph. D.? I know enough about Greg to know that none of these suggestions are remotely possible. The truth is that no author can ever adequately cite every source and resource to which they are accountable. We try as best we can, but we always fail.

Oh, and as for my more my “more controversial claims,” I take full blame for those. There is no one to cite, because these ideas came from my own research and study of the biblical text in light of the crucified Christ. I hoped that readers would consider the logic and reasonable arguments of my position based on the other ideas presented in the book, and then study them further on their own to see if these things are so.

Once again, Greg himself makes many controversial claims in CWG and CV, many of which have no citations because they originated with Greg. Readers are invited to consider the weight of his arguments and decide for themselves if what he says makes sense.

But we better move on. This is too long of an explanation about citations and footnotes.

Turning to the content of this work, my first and most substantial comment concerns the Girardian framework Jeremy uses to interpret Scripture. I confess that I am always suspicious whenever anyone tries to interpret the Bible through the lens of an extra-biblical idea, philosophy, or theory. So when Jeremy claimed that “[a]lmost every passage in the Bible teaches the truth about scapegoating in one fashion or another”(179) and that “[e]verything in Scripture is focused on revealing [that] [f]rom the beginning…humans have engaged in rivalry, accusation, and violence” (119), I was immediately concerned that everything in the Bible was being forced into the Procrustean bed of Girardian theory.

It is strange that Greg seems to be unaware of his own Procrustean bed which forms the foundation of his own thinking and theology. Or maybe he is, and he just wants to point out mine? I hope Greg doesn’t make the mistake of thinking that he has a purely exegetical theology. Every theological position is influenced by history, culture, education, family, emotional state, psychological background, traditional practices, and a vast constellation of other factors.

I am happy to do my best to own up to mine and agree that mimetic theory has been influential in my thinking and writing. However, if Greg does not like the Girardian framework, that is completely fine, but he must show why it is faulty before telling me I depend on it too much. Also, Greg must also admit that he himself interprets the bible through the lens of extra-biblical ideas. It is better by far to know what forms the foundation of your thinking than to be ignorant of such presuppositions or to claim you are not subject to them. I admit and am aware of being influenced by Girardian thought. If Greg wants to disabuse me of it, he should disprove it rather than simply point it out.

There were points in this work that I saw this happening. For example, we’ve seen that Jeremy regards scapegoating as the “foundational sin” of Scripture, and he makes quite a big deal over the fact that “sin” is first mentioned when Cain kills Abel. But it seems to me that the “foundational sin” in Scripture takes place prior to this, when Adam and Eve believe the serpent’s lie about God and when they therefore proceed to violate the divine prohibition against eating from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil (Gen 3:1-5). This sin certainly leads to Adam blaming God and Eve while Eve in turn blames the serpent (Gen 3:12-13), and one could argue that this indicates they are heading down the Girardian path of violence and scapegoating. But the foundational sin that sets this process in motion is mistrusting God and trying to be wise like God, not violence.

I don’t know that this is a Girardian idea. Yes, Girard says that there is a founding murder at the root of all civilization, and he does indeed point to Cain and Abel as a founding murder, but does he ever equate this with sin? I do not recall if he does. I think that this might be one of my more controversial claims in the book, for which I take full blame (or credit, as the case may be).

However, here again, if Greg disagrees, then I invite him to present exegetical arguments to the contrary. Just because traditional theology assumes that “sin” occurred when Adam and Eve ate from the forbidden tree, this does not mean that traditional theology is correct. The Bible doesn’t define their actions as sin, and so why should we? And yes, I discuss Romans 5:12 in the book.

So once again, if Boyd doesn’t like Girard, that’s fine. But rather than discount an idea because of its origin, ideas must be dealt with on their own terms, regardless of who else believes them.

Similarly, throughout this work Jeremy virtually equates sin with violence and/or scapegoating (e.g. 52, 204, 222, 250). It seems to me, however, that the biblical conception of sin is a good bit broader than this, the above-mentioned sin of Adam and Eve being a case in point. Jeremy several times says that sin is anything that makes us less human, which I fully agree with. But it seems to me that there are many things other than violence that can do this. If a person is a chronically lazy glutton, for example, this is sin (Tit 1:11-13), and I am certain it is so because this person is not living up to their human potential. Yet I don’t see how laziness fits into the Girardian schemata of sin.

Again, I don’t exactly know how Girard defines sin. I take blame for this definition. Well, Mark Biddle’s book on sin was helpful as well. But not Girard, if I recall correctly.

Anyway, while I admit that my definition of sin is new to some, it must be considered on its merit, and on the revelation from Scripture. “Sin” is not necessarily “the bad things we do” as Greg seems to believe. (I don’t actually know what he believes. How does he define “sin”?) While the passage he quoted, Titus 1:11-13, does mention lying and lazy gluttons, it doesn’t mention sin. So I am unsure why he cited that text as a way to disprove what I argue about sin in the book. Similarly, Greg eisegetically reads the concept of “sin” into Genesis 3. It is not found there exegetically

Most of the time, in Scripture, when “sin” is explicitly mentioned, it is usually mentioned in the context of violence, or the types of actions that lead to violence (e.g., rivalry, blame, accusation, etc.).

Another example where I felt Jeremy’s Girardian framework was distorting Scripture was when he claimed that “the main point”’ of the book of Job “is that we humans often engage in the satanic activity of accusing and blaming others and that we do so ‘in the name of God’”(197). While I grant that this is one of the points of Job, I am quite certain it is not the main point.

Consider the fact that Job blames God just as much as Job’s “friends” blame Job, which is why God has to put Job in his place in the three chapter monologue toward the end of the book (chs 38-41). And in this case, Job is not projecting his guilt onto God. Indeed, the main point of the book of Job hinges on the fact that Job is suffering as an innocent man (Job 1:1-5, 8). Job’s blaming God for his troubles thus has nothing to do with mimetic rivalry or violence. As God points out, it rather has to do with Job’s complete ignorance of the unfathomable cosmos (chs.38-39) and of the forces of chaos (Behemoth, Leviathan) that God must contend with (chs.40-41). I would thus argue that the main point of the book of Job is that humans shouldn’t blame God for our misfortunes, because we don’t know much about anything (which, by the way, is illustrated by the fact that neither Job nor his “friends” ever learn about the random wager in the heavenly realms that led to Job’s sufferings). But if one is reading with Girardian glasses, one is going to miss this because it doesn’t fit into the Girardian framework.

I must confess that I am a little confused by Greg’s objection here. Greg agrees that Job blames God for what happened to him. And what happened to Job? A lot of violence. His crops were destroyed, his servants and children were killed, and Job suffered great sickness. And then Job blames God for all this violence. Since this is so, how can Greg then say that “Job’s blaming God for his trouble has nothing to do with … violence”? It has everything to do with violence. Then when God shows up, He tells Job He had nothing to do with it.

Job's Friends in a Crisis“But” (as my wife pointed out to me once), “What about God’s deal with the devil at the beginning of the book? Didn’t God allow Satan to do all these bad things to Job? How is this not divine violence?” Excellent point, Wendy! My answer is that this proves that the book of Job is actually about the satanic activity of accusing and blaming others in the name of God. Satan is there in the beginning as the accuser, and the satanic presence is seen throughout the book as everyone is accusing Job, and Job is accusing God.

Yes, Job and his friends never learn about this divine “wager.” But this is because the story is not for them, but for us. As a result, it is my belief is that the “divine wager” never actually happened. I believe the story of Job actually happened, but I do not believe that God makes deals with the devil which treats humans as “acceptable losses” in a cosmic game of “chicken.” The account of God’s deal with the devil at the beginning is the narrative framework that sets up the scene, and is then disavowed at the end of the story. In other words, Job 1 is the “human perspective” of what we humans think goes on in the heavens, and Job 38-41 is “God’s perspective” of what is actually happening.

A more detailed explanation will have to wait for a future book. The point is that in the book of Job, “there is something else going on” than what most people assume.

As a final example, Jeremy argues, in good Girardian fashion, that Achan and his family were scapegoated when they were burned alive (Josh 7:10-16). Now, the text says that this burning was commanded by Yahweh because Achan kept spoils when the Israelites vanquished the city of Ai. From a Girardian perspective, however, this killing must have been carried out to resolve some social conflict that had been building up. Jeremy thus argues that there was “rivalry among the people of Israel regarding the leadership of Joshua and the divisions of the land in Canaan,” and the slaughter of Achan and his family was carried out to resolve this rivalry (192).

The trouble is, there is no evidence of such a “rivalry” in this passage. So far as I can see, it is postulated only because Girardian theory requires it. Yet, Jeremy is so convinced of its truth that he claims that this is “the most obvious reading” (194) of this passage. Indeed, he argues that the whole “book of Joshua, like much of the Bible, is written to expose such thinking (viz. scapegoating) for the lie that it is” (195). I grant that some stories in Joshua and throughout the Old Testament can be interpreted as illustrations of Girard’s scapegoating process, but to claim this for the book as a whole is a bit much. But Jeremy goes so far as to suggest that this is what the original ancient author(s) of this book had in mind! To me, this simply reflects how thoroughly Jeremy’s reading of Scripture has been fused with his Girardian perspective.

Let me beat the same drum once again … I didn’t get this from Girard, or from any Girardian scholar that I recall. But I suppose it is true that a Girardian framework influenced my explanation of this passage. Regardless, the steps to reduce rivalry are quite obvious in Joshua 2–5, especially when compared to the problems Moses faced in his leadership of Israel. This is the point I make in the book. The opening chapters of Joshua must be read contextually, in light of the exodus and wilderness wanderings.

However, all of this is only prologue for the Achan story. I should have more clearly made this point about “prologue” in the book. Regardless, I nowhere suggested, as Greg implies, that the original author(s) of Joshua had Girardian theory in mind. Pardon me, but that’s preposterous. What I wrote is that that the book of Joshua, like much of the Bible, is written to expose the lie of human scapegoating.

Scapegoating is a biblical theme long before Girard picked it up.

To me, Greg’s comment simply reflects how little he understands the seriousness of scapegoating, or its universal pull on every human being. To Greg, and everyone else, I say, “Forget Girard, if you want. Let’s talk about scapegoating.”

My second critical comment about the content of Nothing But the Blood of Jesus is that, while Jeremy mentions Satan several times, neither Satan nor any other demonic cosmic agent plays a substantive role in his theorizing. I think his book suffers as a result. For example, Jeremy notes that, like so many today, biblical authors routinely blamed God for natural disasters. Since we know from the revelation of God in Christ that God is not behind violence, Jeremy argues that we should understand the violent portraits of God that include natural disasters to be projections of the biblical authors.

I completely agree, but in CWG and CV, I go further and argue, on the basis of the cross, that whenever the violence involved in a divine judgment cannot be attributed to humans, as is the case when the judgment takes the form of a natural disaster, we should attribute this violence to Satan and/or other demonic cosmic forces. Because Satan and demonic cosmic forces play no role in Girardian theory, however, Jeremy doesn’t take this option. As a result, he leaves the natural disasters that function as divine judgments completely unexplained.

For example, who or what caused the Flood (Gen 6-9)? While Jeremy is clear that it wasn’t God, he offers his readers no other alternative. He comes close to providing an answer when he notes that the violence involved in the Flood is attributed to the flood waters, not to God (184). But he fails to identify these flood waters as the Ancient Near Eastern way of referring to hostile cosmic forces that perpetually threaten the earth and that Yahweh (or, in other cultures, some other deity) must hold at bay. The result is that the undoing of creation that took place with the Flood is left unexplained.

And the same holds true for all other judgments of God in the Old Testament that involve violence that can’t be attributed to humans. By contrast, if we read Scripture through the lens of the cross, which is depicted in the New Testament as God’s culminating battle with the kingdom of darkness, then we will intentionally look for – and we in fact find – that demonic cosmic forces were at work in bringing about these sorts of judgments.

the flood and total depravityI had a very similar conversation with Greg at the ReKnew conference, in which he stated that he also leaves natural disasters completely unexplained. He says, and I agree, that there are too many variables to determine the cause of any natural disaster. The only exception, Greg says, are the natural disasters found in the Bible. The Bible claims that these (in some way) came from God, and so therefore, they did. Call it Satan, the destroyer, or God withdrawing, these, and only these, natural disasters have some sort of divine origin. For many reasons, I find this explanation highly troubling, and extremely unhelpful. After all, if the CWG thesis helps us understand the Bible but not life, then it is not helpful and cannot be accepted.

But I am not writing this post to critique Greg’s views (though a few more will come below). I just want to point out that while it is true that I do not talk about satan or natural disasters much in my book, this is not because I don’t have a view on them. I do. But my book was primarily focused on human sin and what Jesus did to fix it. I am not prepared, as Greg seems to be, to say that natural disasters are sometimes the result of human sin. One of the primary things we learn from Jesus is that we need to stop blaming God (and humans) for the bad things that happen in this life. This includes natural disasters.

If this is true now (as I think Greg would agree), then it also includes historical natural disasters, including those found in the Bible. The biblical accounts of natural disasters, then, are revelatory, just like much of the rest of Scripture, about how we humans blame God for violence, whether it is our own sinful violence or natural violence. A more detailed explanation is forthcoming in a future book.

This then also helps us understand satan and the cosmic powers. I am not going to get into it here, but just as Greg thinks I have too weak a view of satan and demonic cosmic forces, I think he gives them way too much “personhood.” I heard Greg’s defense of his views at the conference. I have also read God at War and Satan and the Problem of Evil, and highly recommend both books. I completely agree that satan and the fallen powers threaten the world and the existence of humanity. But I have a completely different view than Greg does of what satan and the demonic forces are, where they came from, and how they interact with humans. And no, I didn’t get any of my views from Girard. Ha!

Yet, an even more fundamental problem with Jeremy’s book is that his way of interpreting Scripture has no room for the concept of God judging people, and this is my third critical comment. At a number of points in this book Jeremy says things like: “God doesn’t punish us for sin.” Rather, “Sin carries its own punishment” and God “works to rescue us from the punishment of sin” (51). Now, I fully agree that “sin carries its own punishment” and that God “works to rescue us from the punishment of sin,” but from this it doesn’t follow that “God doesn’t punish us for sin.” For as I argue in CWG and CV, when God sees that his merciful work to protect us from the natural consequences of our sin is harming us by allowing us to get further entrenched in our sin, God has no other choice but to withdraw this protection and allow us to suffer the destructive consequences of our sin. And this, I contend, is supremely illustrated when Jesus stood in our place as a condemned sinner on the cross. The Father withdrew his protection of Jesus and delivered him over to violent people, and Jesus experienced the God-forsakenness that is intrinsic to all sin.

I believe, which I thought I stated in the book, that we see God’s judgment of sin, death, and satan in the crucifixion Jesus. There are future judgments as well. But in all cases, these judgments are not God negatively punishing anybody for sin. Instead, the judgments of God are when God acts as judge to pronounce right judgments. That is, He names things as they really are. He exposes false testimony so that He might instead reveal the truth. Again, this is not from Girard, and a more detailed explanation will be provided in future volumes, though I believe I wrote some preliminary ideas about this in my book The Atonement of God.

As for this entire idea of God withdrawing from people when sin gets bad enough so that God lets sin, death, the devil, and the destructive cosmic forces have their way with humanity, I cannot object to this view strongly enough. Here is what many people (myself included) hear Greg to be saying about God:

You see? When Greg says that God simply “releases the destroyer” this is similar to Zeus saying “Release the Kraken.” In Greg’s view, God is not sending the destroyer, or even doing the destroying. He is just withdrawing His protective hand which holds the destroyer back. God is releasing the destroyer to let the destroyer do what the destroyer does. I am sorry, but this concept comes straight out of pagan mythology.

Yes, I know this idea is found in various places in Scripture, as laid out in Greg’s books, but Jesus repudiates all these ways of reading such passages when He shows that God will never leave us nor forsake us and will always be with us, no matter what.

If Jesus reveals anything at all to us, it is that God is Immanuel; not Zeus.

In his critique of CWG, Jeremiah [My name is Jeremy! But thanks for equating me with my namesake. ;)] objects to this withdrawal conception of divine judgment, both as applied to the cross and to biblical accounts of divine judgment. But what then are we to do with the vast multitude of passages that depict God bringing judgment on people by withdrawing his protection to turn people over to the destructive consequences of their sin (see CWG,vol II, 767-890)? If the Flood wasn’t a judgment of God, what was it? Just a random and wholly unexplainable disaster? And what could be said about (say) the biblical accounts of the killing of the firstborn in Egypt, the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, the parting and closing of the Red Sea, or the earth swallowing up the followers of Korah’s rebellion? If God never punishes sin, these biblical judgments become not only unexplainable, but unintelligible. Not only this, but inasmuch as the coherence of the biblical narrative hinges on divine judgments such as these, denying that God ever punishes sin renders the entire Old Testament narrative incoherent.

No, they are not unintelligible at all. Each can be easily understood when we see the glorious revelation of God in Jesus Christ on the cross, and recognize that in these terrifying and violent portrayals of God, “something else is going on.” I actually think Greg would see what this “something else” is if he discarded the “divine withdrawal” element of his cruciform thesis while keeping every other element. When God stays with us like Jesus, rather than releasing the destroyer like Zeus, we are then forced to read all the violent texts of Scripture in light of the crucified Christ, and something beautiful emerges.

If God doesn’t punitively or painfully withdraw from sinners, but sticks with us through the pain of sin, then this requires us to say that “something else is going on” in the passages that seem to indicate that God does withdraw. What is it that is going on? Well, to see it, Greg would have to adopt a little Girardian perspective. (That’s a joke!) No, the truth is that Girard is not needed at all. Jesus reveals quite clearly on the cross what else is going on.

On the other hand, if we set Girardian theory aside and instead allow the cross to serve as the paradigm for how God brings judgments as well as the paradigm for who God battles (viz. Satan and other demonic cosmic forces), then we are able to affirm that, while God is altogether non-violent, God nevertheless had to sometimes allow judgments to come upon people by withdrawing his merciful protection, which sometimes meant that cosmic agents who come “only to kill and to steal and to destroy” (Jn 10:10) were allowed to have their way.

I ache for the people who hear this ideas from Boyd and God sometimes allows judgments to come upon people by withdrawing His merciful protection. I truly do.

It is no good for anyone to hear that “the thief comes to kill, steal, and destroy … but God allows him to come.”

Frankly, most people, myself included, would rather have the pain and punishment come directly from God. If God is going to let satan kill people, God should have the respect for humanity to just do it Himself. If Greg’s view of God is correct, then I say this to God, “Hey God, man up. Don’t send a hit man to do your dirty work.”

There is no real logical difference at all between God allowing a disaster to fall upon someone (however regretfully He might allow it) and just performing the disaster Himself. So in Greg’s view, God is simply allowing satan to do God’s dirty work so that God can have someone to blame. “It wasn’t me!” says God. “It was Satan!” Meanwhile, God is the one who let Satan do the killing and destroying. God “Released the kraken.” I find it odd that in Greg’s view, God is using satan as the ultimate scapegoat, and yet Greg then turns around and says that my view overemphasizes the scapegoat theme.

The cross of Jesus reveals that God does not scapegoat satan, but it is satan that scapegoats God, and we humans follow satan in these accusatory ways.

My fourth and final comment is that, because Satan plays no substantive role in Jeremy’s Girardian understanding of the cross, his understanding of what the cross accomplishes is inadequate. I completely agree with Jeremy (and Girard) that the cross exposes the sinfulness of our scapegoating tendencies – especially our fallen inclination to scapegoat God. As I argue in CWG, this is why God mirrored the ugliness of sin as a victim of violence when he stooped to bear our sin on the cross, in contrast to the sin-mirroring violent portraits of God as a propagator of violence in the OT. But if we stop here, we are left with a cross that is merely pedagogical and ethical in nature. The cross instructs us, but it doesn’t change anything about the reality of the human situation. To use traditional terminology, this understanding of the cross results in a subjective, but not an objective, understanding of the Atonement.

Honestly, the biblical concept of satan is everywhere in my book, as I just hinted at above. Since “satan” means “accuser” every time I talk about accusation, this can be understood as a reference to satan. Therefore, what Jesus did on the cross is the greatest, objective, universal defeat of satan that can ever be imagined.

In the view Greg presents in his books, satan might be “defeated” but he is still very much active and powerful so as to make no real difference in the world. Theoretically, in Greg’s view, God still occasionally unleashes satan to have his way with us.

But in my view, satan truly was defeated — objectively defeated for all humanity — and evidence of this defeat is found everywhere in life, culture, politics, art, music, movies, and every other sphere of life. The death of Jesus on the cross wasn’t just the death of the son of God, so that He accomplished something mystical in the spiritual realm which no one can see or understand. Instead, the death of Jesus turned the world upside down, and the furniture is still all tumbling to the ground.

Satan was defeated by Jesus on the cross, so that the accuser has no more power.

The core problem is that, in Jeremy’s view, Jesus came because we were merely “in bondage to sin” (248), whereas the New Testament goes further and depicts us as also being in bondage to Satan. In fact, “[t]he Son of God was revealed for this purpose,” John says, “to destroy the works of the devil” (I Jn 3:8). So too, the author of Hebrews tells us that the reason the Son became incarnate and died was, “so that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil” (Heb 2:14, cf. Col 2:15). On the cross, God solved a cosmic problem (defeating the kingdom of darkness) so that he could solve the anthropological problem (free us from our bondage to sin and Satan). And it is only because God did the first that he could do the second.

This is only a core problem for those who do not understand what I argued in the rest of book. Well, and maybe also what I wrote in my previous volume, The Atonement of God. … (Which, by the way, was dedicated to René Girard. Ha! So Greg probably wouldn’t like that book either.)

Jesus on the cross - YeshuaAnyway, the death of Jesus is the center of Scripture and theology, and I base everything I think and teach on what Jesus accomplished on the cross. Or at least, I try to. I believe every word of Scripture; I just believe some of these words differently than Greg does. This doesn’t mean I’m wrong, or that he is. It just means there is room for further discussion and humble learning. If Greg decides to continue this conversation, I promise not to mention Girard.

Not only this, but because of the cross, we have been transported from the kingdom of darkness into the kingdom of God’s Son (Col 1:13). Moreover, because of the cross, we are placed in Christ Jesus in heavenly realms, “far above all rule and authority and power and dominion” (Eph 1:21). Here we are “blessed with every spiritual blessing” as we share in the life and love of the Triune God (Eph 1:3). So while I agree with Jeremy that the cross isn’t what allowed God to love and forgive us, as the Penal Substitution view holds, I nevertheless believe the cross did much more than expose the lie of our scapegoating and point us in a new direction. It radically altered our situation.

I agree (numerous Bible references go here [also a joke!]). I believe that while the cross did expose the lie of scapegoating and point humanity in a new direction, the crucifixion also radically altered our situation, and this changed situation is evident everywhere in life. I thought I made this clear in the book, but again, it is also made clear in The Atonement of God.

In sum, Nothing But the Blood of Jesus is filled with insights that make it well worth reading. But I would encourage my friend to loosen his commitment to Girardian theory and to instead anchor his reading of Scripture in the crucified Christ. This would allow him to have a more robust understanding of what the cross accomplished and would allow him to affirm God’s judgments in Scripture, but in a way that points to the supreme revelation of God’s self-sacrificial, enemy-embracing, non-violent love on Calvary.

This is interesting.

Earlier Greg stated that he wanted me to cite my sources as evidence for how I relied upon other scholars and theologians. But now I see that he does not want me to depend on human sources, but instead look only to Jesus Christ and Him crucified. Which is it?

Maybe we could say the great flaw with Greg’s CWG is due to his over-dependence on the wisdom of men (as evidenced by the numerous footnotes), and not enough on the cross of Christ, as I sought to do with my book.

I am being facetious, but I think you get the point. It is simply silly to say that because I talk about themes that come from Girard, this means that I don’t anchor my reading of Scripture in the crucified Christ.

I could ignorantly say the same thing about Greg’s heavy reliance upon Origen, or various scholars who hold to the Theological Interpretation of Scripture. But I don’t do this. I know that Greg depends and relies on the best research and scholarly input he can find to help inform, guide, and support the exegetical evidence and ideas he has gleaned from Scripture as he reads and studies the Bible in light of Jesus Christ and Him crucified.

I do the exact same thing. I hope that Greg can assume for my writing what he wants others to assume for his.

In the end, it has been a pleasure reading and interacting with Greg’s books, and it appears he would say the same for mine. Most of all, I appreciate him taking the time to respond to some of the ideas in my books, and I hope that we will be able to continue this conversation in the future as we both seek to live, write, and teach in light of Jesus Christ and Him crucified.

Do you want to weigh in on this discussion?

If you haven’t done so already, I invite you to get our books, read them, and then provide your own feedback as well! Click the images of the books below to learn more about each on Amazon and buy your copies.

God is Redeeming Books Bible & Theology Topics: blood of Jesus, book reviews, Books by Jeremy Myers, Books I'm Writing, cross, crucifixion of Jesus, crucivision, Greg Boyd, mimesis, mimetic rivalry, mimetic theory, Nothing But the Blood of Jesus, Rene Girard, scapegoat

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What I hoped to discuss with Greg Boyd at the ReKnew Conference about his Cruciform Hermeneutic

By Jeremy Myers
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What I hoped to discuss with Greg Boyd at the ReKnew Conference about his Cruciform Hermeneutic

Well, the conference is over. I got five minutes with Greg in his final session today, so clearly, 99% of my concerns below could not be discussed. Even in the five minutes I got with him, I still feel like he didn’t hear or understand me. I am a little disappointed by this, because I was invited to the conference to converse with him about it in a session, and they gave me 5 minutes. But whatever … let’s move on.

I attended the ReKnew conference because I have been writing and teaching a lot about how to understand the violence in Scripture, and I thought this would be a good conference to attend. The conference is focused on the three books Greg Boyd published this year, The Crucifixion of the Warrior God (2 vols), and the shorter summary of those two books, Cross Vision. I have read all three books in their entirety, and some sections multiple times. I also listened to Greg’s explanation in the ReKnew conference, and have read numerous of his blog posts and listened to scores of his podcasts on this topic.

This post contains my response to the information in the books, blog posts, podcasts, and the conference.

I apologize for the unprofessional, unpolished nature of this post. It is likely filled with incoherent thoughts, typos, grammatical mistakes, and lots of repetition. The ideas below are basically a hastily-typed compilation of notes that I have scribbled in about 15 different places over the last several months.

Let me begin with a few areas of agreement

Ultimately, I agree with almost everything in Volume 1 of CWG. I am in absolute agreement that it is most important to interpret the text as we have it, rather than what historical event might (or might not) exist behind the text. It is the text that is inspired, not the historical event. God gave the text to us as it is for a reason – because it points us to Jesus Christ, just as it is written.

I agree with Boyd’s Conservative Hermeneutic Principle, that it is best to be more conservative than liberal when it comes to thinking about inspiration and the authority of Scripture. I agree that the Bible is inspired and infallible. That it is God-breathed in all its words and ideas. I agree that it is primarily when we begin with this framework that we work hard to understand why a troubling text was included in the Bible. I believe many scholars miss out on some of the most important truths of Scripture because they are too willing and ready to write something off as “error.” To write off various portions of Scripture as error is to miss out on some of what God wants to teach us about Himself, when viewed through the lens of Jesus Christ and Him crucified. Boyd calls this the “cross vision;” I call it “crucivision.”

Speaking of the crucivision lens, I agree that God looks like Jesus. That Jesus most fully reveals God to us. That we must read Scripture and think about God through the lens of Jesus Christ and Him crucified. I have written about this in The Atonement of God, and Nothing but the Blood of Jesus.

Summary of my areas of disagreement

With these agreements (and many more I did not mention), I do have some areas of disagreement. And while many of these might appear to be merely semantic on the surface, there might not be any field of study where the meaning and use of words is more important than with theology. Word matters, and when it comes to theology, it is the precise words that matter most.

There were numerous times I cringed at some of Boyd’s terminology and ideas, such as his way of describing unregenerate people as “unrepentant” (p. 787), and his acceptance of annihilation (p. 787), but in regard to the overall purpose and goal of the book, I am most concerned with three of Boyd’s four Principles of the Cruciform Hermeneutic.

The first principle is the Principle of Cruciform Accommodation. In my view, I would change this to the Principle of Cruciform Incarnation.

Boyd says that out of self-sacrificial love, as seen in Jesus on the cross, God stooped or accommodated to human sin and failures. I am not a huge fan of the terms “stooped” or “accommodated.” While I agree that the image of parent stooping to look a child in the eye and talk to a child on his or her level is helpful when some people think of how God interacts with us, I also think that this image or idea does some damage to how it is that we humans actually think of God.

When we think of God stooping, we think of a God who is so far above us, He is almost beyond reach. And while God is, in many ways, superior to us, the incarnation of Jesus shows that God is not “up there,” but is already “down here,” in our midst, at our level. The incarnation reveals what God has always been doing with humanity. He has not gone from up there down to here, but has always been with us in a humble and quiet way.

But when it comes down to it, I don’t mind “accommodation” too much. It is probably not worth quibbling over. The terminology of the second principle, however, I do think is worth some quibbling…

The second key idea of Boyd’s cruciform Hermeneutic is the Principle of Redemptive Withdrawal. In my view, I would call this the Principle of Redemptive With-us, or Redemptive Following. Neither is as catchy as Greg’s term, but is in this area where I take most exception with Boyd’s terminology, so something else is needed other than “withdrawal.”

Boyd frequently writes that God withdraws from us, and he uses numerous synonyms to help explain this view. He writes that God abandons (p. 769, 778, 782), leaves us alone (p.741, 874), withdraws his presence (p.889) to “let sin have its way” so that we receive the punishment “we deserve” (p. 903). These sorts of statements in in the books reminded me of Job’s friends.

While I agree that the Bible does use such terminology, I think this is a perfect case where what we see occurring on the cross reveals that “something else must be going on.” I do not believe that God ever leaves or forsakes us. He never abandons us or leaves us alone. He never withdraws His presence. Yes, sin bears its own punishments, and yes, the consequences of sin fall upon us, but this is not because God backed away to let us receive the punishment we deserve.

This way of thinking can cause horrible psychological and spiritual damage to people who have already been abandoned by loved ones, or feel that they have sinned so bad, God has withdrawn from them and has left them alone to face the fallout from their sin. It is far better to provide hope and healing to such people, and remind them that God will never withdraw, but is always with us. It is no help whatsoever to say, “This hurts God more than it hurts you” (cf. p. 904).

What happens when we experience the suffering from sin is that God warned us about the pain and destruction that can come through sin (though we often don’t hear it), and we go our own way anyway. In such situations, God does not let us go without coming along as well. He lets us choose our own destructive routes, and He chooses to join us in the mess and pain of sin. This is what we see in the incarnation and on the cross. He walks with us into the suffering and shame, and bears it along with us, protecting us from what He can. This is what we see in Jesus.

I found it strange that he did not address this objection in his chapter on common objections (chapter 18). I am not sure what this means. But let me move on.

Third, Boyd argues for the Principle of Cosmic Conflict. I prefer to think of the Principle of Creation Chaos.

Yes, there are forces and powers that cause evil in this world. But I think that most of these forces were initially supposed to be subject to the will and mind of humankind, and due to going our own way, they have spun out of control. Just as a car is not evil when it kills someone after spinning out of control of the driver, so also, creation is in chaos because the human drivers have lost control.

Satan, as the accuser, is one of these powers. So also are the “fallen” angels. I owe much of my thinking in this area to Walter Wink, but I go further than he does, and give the powers a bit of will, though it would be by the subconscious will of a human collective.

Finally, Boyd writes about the Principle of Semiautonomous Power. This is the idea that God gives humans free will and power (even power-filled items) with which to carry out His will, and sometimes people misuse and abuse this power in evil ways. I agree with this. I think this principle here helps explain most of what goes wrong in this world, and much of the evil human violence we see in Scripture. No complaints from me here!

With these four initial criticisms in mind, let us step a bit deeper into the book and discuss some of the questions that arose for me as I read.

Is Progressive Revelation Real?

I know that the idea of Progressive Revelation is a “given” in most of modern theology, but I have never been convinced. The more I study Scripture in light of culture and history, the more convinced I become that we today might know less about God than most of the generations in Biblical history. The assumption that we know better today because we are more technologically advanced, are further along in time, or have more books is what C. S. Lewis called “chronological snobbery.” We look down out modern noses at the people of the past and think that they were ignorant fools who knew nothing of God and His ways, but we, with all our research and writing, we now know better.

But do we? I am not so sure.

Yes, I know Paul writes about seeing in a mirror dimly (1 Cor 13:12), that the prophets longed to see our day (Matt 13:17; Luke 10:24; 1 Pet 1:10), and similar verses. I also agree that Jesus Christ is the supreme revelation of God and that He most fully explains God as no other generation has ever known. But does this mean there was a progression in thinking from the time of Abraham up to the time of Jesus, and that this progression has been marching forward ever since?

No, I would say that there was a regression from the time of Adam to the time of Jesus, when He burst on the scene as a ray of light in the darkest of nights, and we have been trying to make sense of that light ever since. If there has been any progression since the incarnation of Jesus, I do not think we have progressed (or retraced the path of regression) much past the later prophets. We have definitely not returned to what Moses and Abraham and Adam knew about God (John 8:56; Exod 33:11).

So I am not a fan of progressive revelation. Instead, let us humbly admit that we know nothing, and return to sitting at the feet of our Master while He reveals Himself to our spirits and through the pages of Scripture.

Is the Cross the Supreme Revelation of God?

I think we can all agree that Jesus is the perfect and fullest revelation of God. Yet the emphasis seems to be on the revelation of God in the crucifixion, that it is on the cross where God is most fully manifested.

I tentatively agree with this, but primarily in reference to violence. The cross is an extremely violent event, and so when it comes to understanding God’s involvement with violence, the cross is the best revelation of this truth.

Yet the crucifixion is only one event in the life of Jesus. We must not overemphasize the crucifixion, as if it were the only event in the life of Jesus, or as if everything else in His three-year ministry was just prologue. No, the entire life of Jesus, from conception (which precedes birth) to ascension (which follows the crucifixion and resurrection) is essential for understanding what God is truly like.

Once we recognize that the entire life of Jesus reveals God to us, this then raises other questions.

Is God Stooping?

Over and over we are told that God stooped, accommodated, or allowed certain things to happen because the people were not ready for something better, different, or more godly. But I am very uncomfortable with all such language, because it seems to deny the truth of the incarnation. It seems at times that while Boyd places a wonderful (and often neglected) emphasis on the crucifixion, he has somewhat neglected the incarnation. Even the word “stooping” seems to imply that God is “up there” above us, and He “stoops” down to our level. But this is not the truth of the incarnation. The truth of the incarnation is that God is always with us.

If Jesus, in His entire life, reveals to us what God is like, then we cannot say that God “stooped” to become human, but rather that since the incarnation reveals what God has always been like, then God has never stooped, but has always been with us. In Jesus, we don’t see a God who has come down to us, but rather, we see God with us. He did become this way; He has always been this way.

Let me put it another way. John writes that God is love (1 John 4:8). We could say that love is of the essence of God, that love is a central and defining characteristic of God. But does love exist in a vacuum? No. For there to be love, there must be an object of love. This, I believe, is one way of proving the truth of the Trinity, but that’s another topic.

One essential characteristic of love is give and take. Love requires interaction, collaboration, listening, following, caring, freedom, flexibility, and risk. Love involves looking out for the interests and needs of others.

It is sometimes taught that God limited Himself in creating other beings with free will. But did He? In giving some genuine “say-so” to created beings, is this actually a self-limitation of God, or is it rather the definition of love? In giving freedom to His creatures, God did not limit His own freedom, and therefore “stoop” to our level, but rather, was true to the character of love.

And this is exactly what we see in Jesus. As God incarnate, He did not stoop to join humanity, but continued in His loving relationship with humanity in a way that we could more fully grasp and understand. The incarnation of God is not the stooping of God; it is the relating of God, which He has always done.

Some might wonder about Philippians 2 and kenosis. Did Jesus “empty Himself” of his divine attributes? Several things can be pointed out which will move us in the right direction. First, Paul brings Jesus up as the perfect example of love that seeks the good of others over oneself. This is not “stooping” to the other person’s level (such an idea is actually quite proud), but is just what love does (Php 2:1-4). Since Jesus does this with us, we know that this is what God has always done this with us as well. He has not stooped; He has loved.

Beyond this, however, it does not seem best to understand kenosis in 2:7 as a reference to Jesus emptying Himself of His divine nature. Such an idea becomes very dangerous to our Christology, and hence, to our Theology Proper. If Jesus perfectly reveals to us what God is like, and Jesus emptied Himself of His divine nature, then this would mean that God also emptied Himself of His divine nature. But what does that mean? How can God have less than the full divine nature? It seems best, therefore, to understand Paul’s reference here (which is probably an early Christian hymn) in light of the Platonic philosophical idea of “forms.” But contrary to some scholars who have noted this connection, I do not believe that Paul is agreeing with Platonic thought, but rather disagreeing. I believe Paul is saying that although Greek philosophy uses the concept of “form” to think of god as this perfect, unchanging, unfeeling deity, this is not what we see in Jesus Christ. Instead, though Jesus was perfectly equal with God, we see a God who becomes a nobody, a servant, and joins humanity in life. He humbles Himself, even to the point of death on a cross. God, in Jesus, did not stoop to become this, but revealed to us in Jesus that this is what He has always been like. Jesus did not seek to be equal to the form of God, that is, to the perfect, unfeeling, uncaring, unchanging ideal of god that human philosophy presents us, but instead, through the incarnation, revealed to us what God is really like.

I am not saying God is physical. That God is human. We know that God is Spirit. We also know that there are aspects of God that could not be fully represented in human form, such as His omnipresence. But I think this helps explain why Jesus promised to send the Holy Spirit.

Anyway, I don’t believe God stoops or accommodates as people usually understand those words. I believe that, out of perfect love for humanity, He has joined us in our journey through life. This is not Him acting as “less than God” but is instead Him acting as the “perfectly loving God” that He truly is, as revealed in the incarnation of Jesus. God does not accommodate His creation, but is, in fact, somewhat accountable to His creation. He is a suffering God, who willingly takes our pain upon Himself out of love. To explain God’s actions in Scripture as “accommodation” is just as much an evasion of what is really happening as it is to call some uncomfortable description of God as an “anthropomorphism.” We cannot explain things away so easily.

So Does God Withdraw?

No. There is no withdrawal. There is only God with us. He never leaves us nor forsakes us. He never abandons us or lets us go our own way without Him.

Yes, He pleads with us and warns us and instructs us to not go down certain paths in life, but when we ignore His pleading and rebel against His instructions, and go in the way He has warned us not go, God does not throw up His hands and say, “Well, I’ll be waiting here when you come crawling back to me in pain and agony from how you messed up your life.” No, when we choose to go our own way, God, out of His great love for us, does not withdraw from us, but goes with us. He does not abandon us to our sin, but dives headlong into the mess of sin with us.

This is what we see in the incarnation and the crucifixion, and is also what we see everywhere in Scripture. The priesthood, the law, the sacrificial system, and the monarchy were not what God wanted and not God’s plan or idea. But when we humans turned our back on what God desired and wanted (a loving relationship with each and every person), God did not accommodate us, or stoop down to let us have our own way, or even withdraw from us so that we were abandoned in our rebellion. No, God, out of His great love for us, said, “Well, it’s not my way, but if that is what you want, we will go down that road together for a while. Are you ready?”

Though God tells us the direction in which we should go, and warns us of the dangers down other roads, when we persist in going our own way, God does indeed let us go, but He does not let us go alone. Instead, He goes with us, so that He might do all He can to protect us from the evils of our own choices. Due to genuine freedom, of course, He cannot protect us from all harm.

The great problem, of course, is that while God goes with us wherever we go, we humans rarely sense or see His presence with us. Though He is always with us, we feel as if He has abandoned and forsaken us. We feel His has left us to our own devices out of disgust and anger at our sin. We regularly cry out to God, “Why have you left me? Why have you allowed this to happen? Where are you, God? Why have you forsaken me?”

So the cry of Jesus on the cross about His own forsakenness is not the cry of Jesus the man being forsaken by God, but the cry of Jesus the God finally feeling the despair of humanity at not sensing the presence of God. Did God forsake or abandon Jesus? No! Jesus is not God-forsaken, and neither are we. God did not abandon Jesus on the cross, and He does not abandon us. God did not withdraw from Jesus when He became sin for us, and He does not withdraw from us when we commit sin against Him. Go here to read more: https://redeeminggod.com/why-have-you-forsaken-me/

Even if Greg is right that God abandoned Jesus to sin (which I do not agree with), wouldn’t it be better to say that God abandoned Jesus to sin so that God did not have to abandon us to sin? In my view, it is best to say that God never abandons anyone. Not Jesus and not us. “Something else is going on” when Jesus cries out from the cross, “My God, My God, Why have you forsaken me?”

The flood event in Genesis 6-8 is one example of how Greg Boyd deals with the violent texts of Scripture. He says that since wickedness had spread over the face of the earth, all humanity had become corrupted by the sons of God (Gen 6:1-8), and so Noah was literally the last pure man on earth, and so to save, rescue, and deliver humanity from complete destruction, God had to step back from humanity and withdraw His protection so that sin would destroy humanity and a new creation could occur through Noah and his family, whom God rescued and delivered from the flood through the ark. Boyd argues that God’s only activity in the flood was to rescue and deliver Noah. The flood waters came on their own as God stepped back.

I am extremely uncomfortable with such an explanation of the flood account, or such a way of reading Scripture. My discomfort is not because Boyd’s thesis is new, but because I think it ultimately violates one of his preliminary points, that all of Scripture must be read and interpreted through Jesus Christ, and especially through Jesus Christ on the cross. I do not believe that what we see on the cross is God withdrawing from sin, but rather jumping head-first into it.

God does not withdraw from sin. He dives into it. Since Jesus reveals to us what God is really like, and since Jesus is the incarnation of God, then Jesus also reveals how God deals with sin. God does not back away from sin to let it have its way. No, God, in Jesus, enters fully into our sin, not to participate in it, but to deliver us from it. He does not draw away; He dives headlong into the mess.

This view of mine raises two possible objections. First, some say that just as a loving parent must sometimes withdraw from a child to let the child grow and mature, or just as sometimes a loving parent must draw back from a rebellious child so that the child can learn through pain what they have failed to learn through instruction, so also God, as a loving Father, withdraws from us at times for similar reasons.

Yet we must look at the reasons why parents “withdraw” from their children in such situations. Typically it is so that the rebellious child will not harm other family members. Similarly, it could be argued, God wants to protect the children in His house, so He “kicks out” the rebellious one.

This might work, except for the fact that when God “withdraws” or “kicks a rebellious child out,” usually a huge disaster follows in which lots of children (and animals) are killed in horrible ways. Just look at the flood, or the Ten Plagues, or Korah’s Rebellion, or any number of “divine withdrawal” scenarios in the Bible. If we are going to carry the divine withdrawal analogy to the proper parallel, we would have to say that after a parent withdrew from a child, that child went out and murdered everyone in town, as well as the pet dogs, cats, and hamsters. In such a scenario, would it not have been better to let the rebellious child stay at home? I submit to you that it would.

Cannot God in His wisdom find another way to deal with wayward sinners than by “withdrawing his protection” so that hundreds, thousands, or millions of people do not get caught in the cross-hairs of destructive forces?

And while I am on the topic of forces, is it sufficient to say that destructive forces are like gravity, so that just like dropping a water bottle so that gravity does the rest, so also, God just stops holding back the destructive forces and lets them go their natural way? Do we really want to equate God to Zeus, who says “Release the Kraken!” whenever there are rebellions to quash? No, God is not like Zeus. He does not “unleash” destructive forces on anybody, even if it just “withdrawing His protection.” To argue this way is to say that Zeus is not responsible for what the Kraken did once released. He just stopped holding it back and let it go its way. Look at the quotes at the bottom of this post to see how Greg talks about the withdrawal of God.

To some (including myself), here is what it sounds like Greg Boyd is sometimes saying:

I do not think that God ever releases the destroyer in this way. Not now, not ever. Not even in the biblical accounts. Yes, I agree with Greg that the biblical accounts say these things, but I would say that Greg’s explanation of these difficult biblical events still turns God into a monster-releasing monster like Zeus. It is far better to say, “Something else must be going on” (which is what I have proposed in my book Nothing but the Blood of Jesus. God does not let us go. God does not withdraw in any way, shape, or form. He lets us go, but He goes with us. (And no, Paul is not teaching this in Romans 1. But I am not going to get into that discussion here. Again … something else is going on … as I have argued elsewhere.)

But don’t children need to learn from their mistakes? Yes, of course they do. And while there is “withdrawal” in some senses (we don’t carry our children around their whole lives), there is a drawing nearer in others. A mother only stops carrying her child in her arms so that the child can learn to crawl. And as the child learns to walk, the mother will let go of the child, but will always keep her arms within an inch or two of the child to catch him when he falls. It is the same as children get older.

I know a father who caught his son doing drugs. So the father warned him. The warning didn’t work, so the next time, the father took his son down to the police station himself to get him UA tested. Is that withdrawal? I wouldn’t call it that. I would call it going with the son into the pain. The son sure didn’t like it though. The son felt betrayed and forsaken. But he wasn’t.

I know a mother who did something similar with her son. Yet the son never learned, and so eventually, for the sake of her own household and the safety of the other children, she told the son he had to move out of the house. The son was furious. But did this mother withdraw from her son? No. If anything, she drew nearer. He was more on her heart and mind than ever before. He was more in her thoughts and prayers. She texted him numerous times a day to say that when he was clean, and willing to enter rehab, he could come home. In kicking him out of the house, she actually made herself more attentive to him.

I could go on and on with numerous examples. The point is this: Yes, there is an element of “learning from their mistakes,” but quite often, this learning can be accomplished in a variety of ways, and even when the parent and child must create some form of physical separation, this does not necessarily mean that the parent has actually withdrawn. So also with God, and with God, it’s even easier than with a parent who has a physical body. God might let us go the way we want into rebellion to learn from our mistakes, but when this happens, He goes with us, because He will never leave us nor forsake us.

Second, some have suggested that if God does not withdraw, then He is just enabling sinners to continue in their ways. To this, I say, “Do you live in a world where sinners are not allowed to continue in their ways?” We all live in the same world, where people whom we think should be stopped are not, but in fact, seem to get blessed with more power, riches, wealth, and fame. So yes, God is the biggest enabler in the universe. As you look around at all the evil in the world, in what way is God not enabling people? That’s what I want to know. I got this (I think?) from Robert Farrar Capon, but I cannot find the quote, so maybe it was someone else.

So why does God appear to be an enabler? The only rational answer I can come up with is the answer Greg has already provided, that once divine “say-so” (sometimes called “free will” … which is a misnomer) is given, it cannot be rescinded if is used in a way God did not want or desire. So does God enable? Of course, He does! Just look at the world around us!

But do not despair, for God is also wise, and He can step into the mess we have created, and work to redeem it and rescue us out of it. Although He is an enabler, this does not mean He does nothing about the problem. Far from it! In Jesus, God showed us what He has been doing since the founding of the world.

Does God allow sin to have its way with us?

At times, Boyd talks about how God allows sin to have its way with us. While I agree that sin bears its own punishment with it, and that God does not send punishment upon us, it is very dangerous to talk about God allowing sin to have its way. This seems to imply that God could have stopped sin from damaging, hurting, or “punishing” us, but He didn’t.

Frankly, this seems a bit like a passive form of divine child abuse. Imagine a father who warns his daughter a hundred times to not play in the street because she could get run over. But she ignores him, and so time after time he pulls he back to safety as she runs out onto the road. Is he eventually going to sigh in exasperation and say, “Fine, have it your way. Next time I’m going to allow you to get run over”? No, of course not. Such a passively aggressive father is no better than one who is aggressively abusive.

So what does God do about sin? Well, as we ignore His advice over and over again, He constantly seeks to protect us over and over again. He never fails in this. He never stops.

God does not allow sin to have its way with us, even if we continue to rebel and live in it. Nor does God destroy sin by letting sin destroy itself. I believe that God destroys sin through redemption. He destroys sin by tearing it apart from the inside, not violently, but through love, grace, mercy, forgiveness, and revelation. I believe God destroys sin through the revelation and illumination brought by the incarnation. He rescues, not be retreating, but by redeeming. Jesus said “I will never leave you, nor forsake you.” And neither does God. He never withdraws. Never backs away. Never leaves us alone.

Does sin hurt us? Yes. Does sin bear its own punishment? Yes. God does not punish us for sin. But the blows we feel as a result of our own sin are the glancing blows that hit His back first. Due to genuine human freedom, God cannot stop all the pain and sorrow that comes from our bad choices, but He does do what He can to protect us from it. In no way, however, does God allow these things to happen to us, as if He could have done more or done other than He did but chose not to.

What is sin (and satan)?

I was consistently uncomfortable with Boyd’s understanding of sin. Since sin is “the problem” in Scripture, it seems he should have spent more time discussing the origin and nature of sin. For example, Boyd wrote in numerous places that Jesus bore the destructive consequences of sin “that we deserved” (cf. e.g., 768). Yes, there are destructive consequences of sin, but I am not sure that there are destructive consequences of sin “that we deserve.” That’s like saying that “Jesus came to deliver slaves from the chains that they deserve.” This means something else entirely than saying “Jesus came to deliver slaves from their chains.”

I’m not certain, but Boyd seems to view sin as creating a sort of debit in the divine ledger books, which ultimately got charged to Jesus. I think this transactional way of viewing sin led Boyd astray. What would be better is if Boyd emphasized the clear biblical connection between sin and violence, and how both are related to the accuser (satan) that leads to violence and the escalation of violence. In fact, it is very strange that in a book about sin and violence, Boyd never really seeks to define either one. I have sought to define sin in my book, Nothing but the Blood of Jesus, thereby showing the close connection between sin and violence (and how satan is involved). And when we see from Scripture that sin is not some sort of substance (either physical or spiritual) that needs to be “washed away” like dirt (I am not saying this is what Boyd believes … I don’t know what he believes on this), but that sin is closely related to violence, it is then that we begin to see how Jesus defeated sin (and violence, and satan) through His life, crucifixion, and resurrection.

What is God’s Response to Sin?

God does not retreat from sin, but redeems us from it. He always forgives and only loves and never leaves us to sin’s destructive devices. Not ever.

It is only when we come to this realization as it is clearly revealed on the cross that we begin to see the beautiful portraits of God in the Old Testament of how He stayed with this world and His people in the most sinful of situations. This then helps us know how to read and understand the rest of Scripture.

What if the Cross (and therefore Scripture) is not primarily about Theology Proper, but about Anthropology?

When it comes to theology, we humans tend to think that our greatest area of deficiency is in understanding the nature and character of God. So we read the Bible in this way, asking “What is God like? What does God do? What are the attributes and actions of God?”

But what if we are wrong in this? What if our greatest area of deficiency is not in understanding God, but in understanding ourselves? What if God inspired the Bible, not primarily to reveal Himself to us, but to reveal ourselves to us? What if the Bible is not so much a revelation from God about God, but is more of a revelation from God about humanity?

I believe this is exactly the case, and it helps make sense of a lot of passages in the Bible and why God inspired them to be written the way they were. The Bible is more about what humans are like than it is about what God is like. So also with the crucifixion. What if the crucifixion is not just a revelation of what God has always been doing, but also a revelation of what humanity has always been doing?

So yes, Jesus reveals God to us. But Jesus also reveals humanity to us … both in our glory and our gore. The life and ministry of Jesus shows us how we humans are to behave, while the crucifixion shows how we actually behave. Yes, the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus reveal how God behaves toward us. It shows us how God has taken the sin of the world upon Himself while always loving and only forgiving in return. But the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus are also (primarily?) about how we humans behave toward others and then blame God for it.

The Gospels (and the Bible as a whole) is more about Anthropology than Theology Proper, and once we begin to read the Bible with this in mind, our eyes will be opened to the shocking truths of Scripture, and we will begin to see our faces on its pages for the very first time. Till we have seen our faces, we cannot begin to correct the blemishes that Scripture reveals and so conform our lives to the image and likeness of God as revealed in Jesus Christ.

Boyd’s Criticism of His Critics

One of the things I found most troubling about Boyd’s books and the ReKnew conference is in how he handled the ideas of his critics. It sometimes seemed that Boyd found it easier and most satisfying to respond to his critics with a joke and light mockery than with serious attention to what they were saying. Multiple times during the conference, I cringed as Boyd said things about people who objected to him in a way that got a cheap laugh from the audience. I experienced this myself, and I sat with others at the conference who experienced this themselves (and told me so), and I imagine that if someone like Derek Flood was at the conference, he would have felt something similar. Even at the final session with Greg Boyd, when the first person asked his question (which was an email from a Calvinistic pastor), Greg’s response at the beginning and end of his answer included mockery of the question. Humor has an important role in biblical and theological debate, but mockery must be left at the door.

Furthermore, I sometimes felt that Boyd didn’t really understand the views of his opponents. Or maybe he just wasn’t giving them a fair explanation. See, for example, the posts by Derek Flood about how Boyd misrepresented him. Yet ironically, this is Boyd’s main criticism of his critics. He says they don’t understand him and don’t properly present his views. Well, pot, meet kettle.

Another example is Girard’s Mimetic theory (which I teach on here). Boyd wrote a post about Girard’s Scapegoat Theory in which he said his critics misunderstood him, and he went on to point out his issues with Mimetic Theory. But strangely, the summary of mimetic theory he provides (while decent in his book) is terrible in this post. As a dabbler in Girard, I know that Boyd terribly misunderstood or misrepresented what most Girardians think about sin and satan and how Jesus actually (objectively) defeats them through His life and on the cross so that “the cross changed everything for every one and every thing.” Much of mimetic theory truly does view sin and satan as powers that have enthralled the world, and that through his non-violent self-sacrificial, non-accusatory love and forgiveness on the cross, Jesus truly defeated and exposed them.

So anyway, maybe it is just normal in theological debate for everyone on all sides of an issue to think that the opponents “simply don’t understand” (After all, if they understood, they would agree!). But since this is so, I don’t think that mockery has any role in theological debate. It is just not helpful.

Quotes about God’s Withdrawal

Compiled by Ben Stasiewicz, in the Crucifixion of the Warrior God Facebook Group on Monday, July 3, 2017. (And despite Greg’s comments about the Facebook group in his final session today, I feel that the group is quite loving and gracious. You should come join us!)

“We shall argue that while God’s withdrawal is punitive in nature, it always has redemption as its ultimate goal, which is why this principle expresses God’s “redemptive withdrawal.

“Since the cross reveals what God has always been like, I will argue that we should interpret Scripture with the assumption that God always judges by withdrawing his protective presence from those who are coming under judgment. While OT authors often reflect their fallen and culturally conditioned understandings of God by attributing violence directly to God, the Cruciform Hermeneutic discloses that “something else is going on.” We shall see that whatever violence transpires when God withdraws and turns people over to suffer the consequences of their sin is carried out by agents other than God and is carried out of their own free accord, just as when Jesus bore the judgment of sin in our place.” (pg. 635)

 

“the revelation of God on the cross, together with a wealth of confirming scriptural evidence, makes it clear that to bring a judgment on people, God need only withdraw his merciful protecting hand to allow people to experience the self-destructive consequences of their own wickedness, including the wickedness of trusting in violence rather than in God.” (pg 744)

—

The Principle of Redemptive Withdrawal is anchored in the fact that God the Father did not act violently toward his Son when the Son bore the judgment of our sin that we deserved. Rather, with a grieving heart, the Father simply withdrew his protective hand, thereby delivering his Son over to wicked humans and fallen powers that were already “bent on destruction” (Isa 51:13). Yet, by abandoning his Son to suffer the destructive consequences of sin that we deserved, the Father wisely turned the violent aggression of these evildoers back on themselves, causing evil to self-implode and thereby liberating creation.

We may thus state the Principle of Redemptive Withdrawal as follows:

God judges sin, defeats evil, and works for the redemption of creation by withdrawing his protective presence, thereby allowing evil to run its self-destructive course and ultimately to self-destruct.  (pg. 768)

—

“the Principle of Redemptive Withdrawal allows us to discern in the depths of these portraits a God who, with a grieving heart, brings judgment on people by simply withdrawing from them, thereby allowing them to experience the destructive consequences that are —inherent in their sin but that are typically brought about by means of other agents who were already “bent on destruction.”5 Yet, we shall see that our cross-based faith also requires us to discern that God is doing this in hopes of eventually redeeming these people and as a stepping-stone ultimately to causing all sin and evil to self-destruct.” (pg. 769)

—

Though it grieves God to do so, God is willing, out of the profound love he has for people, to withdraw his protective hand and allow them to sink to ever-increasing depths of pain in order to eventually hope- fully come to the point where they finally realize it is in their own best interest to turn from their sin and submit to God’s loving lordship. (pg. 791)

—

The judgment on the people of Jerusalem was definitely an expression of God’s “wrath” (1 Thess 2:14–16). Yet, confirming what we learn from the cross, these prophecies make it clear that God’s role in expressing his “wrath” involved no violence on God’s part. God’s role bringing this judgment about was simply to withdraw and allow the seed of destruction that is inherent in people’s rebellious choices to grow and bear its fruit (Jas 1:14–15).  (pg. 811)

—

I will argue that by acknowledging that God merely allowed the actions they elsewhere ascribe directly to God, these OT authors confirm both that God merely withdraws protection when he brings about judgments and that their violent depictions of God are divine accommodations to their own fallen and culturally conditioned hearts and minds. (pg. 852)

—

since the essence of sin is pushing God away, God’s decision to withdraw from people must be understood as a decision to give people what they want. In this respect, the unleashed pit bull analogy is misguided, for the person being attacked did not repeatedly try to get the dog owner to unleash his rabid dog. (pg. 903)

—

While God’s decision to withdraw and allow his stiff-necked people to carry out their violent proclivities against the Canaanites was just, we know from Jesus’s cross-oriented ministry that allowing this judgment to take place grieved the heart of God   (pg. 982)

—

Indeed, the cross-centered Principle of Redemptive Withdrawal specifies that the “delivering over” motif running throughout Scripture is not a manifestation of “the power of the Spirit” but a manifestation of the withdrawal of the Spirit (pg. 1000)

—

“the intensity of the NT’s cosmic conflict worldview allows us to better understand why God need only withdraw his protective hand to allow people to experience the death-consequences of sin.” (pg. 1042)

—

Hence, in light of the warfare dimension of the cross and the manner in which it is confirmed throughout the canon, I submit that our interpretation of all of God’s judgments should be premised on the knowledge that “a destructive power is at work, and that God is actively holding back the forces of evil.” More specifically, in light of the cross, I submit that all canonical depictions of God using nature as a weapon of judgment (e.g., the flood, Sodom and Gomorrah) can be, and should be, understood to be occasions in which God, with a grieving but hopeful heart, withdrew his protective hand to allow anti-creational forces that are “bent on destruction” (Isa 51:13; cf. Hab 1:9) to bring about “the undoing of creation” in an individual, people-group, or geographical region. (pg. 1071)

God is Redeeming Theology Bible & Theology Topics: crucifixion of Jesus, cruciform, crucivision, Greg Boyd, hermeneutics, violence of God

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My review of Greg Boyd’s “Cross Vision”

By Jeremy Myers
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My review of Greg Boyd’s “Cross Vision”

Cross Vision Greg BoydGreg Boyd is out with a new book,  Cross Vision. I interviewed him yesterday about this book and his theology, and here is my review of his book.

Having read both Cross Vision and the longer 2-volume work, The Crucifixion of the Warrior God, I think that this shorter book should be the one you start with. Then, if you want more details, footnotes, and scholarly discussion, you can get the longer two-volume explanation.

As I read through the longer two-volume work, I found myself thinking about Cross Vision and what Greg Boyd should take out and leave in. While I liked the 2-volume work, I found much of it to be rather repetitive. He spent SO much time in The Crucifixion of the Warrior God (most of volume 1) defending the idea that the crucifixion of Jesus should be our guiding lens through which to read the entire Old Testament, including the violent portions of the Old Testament.

Most of Greg’s readers were probably already on board with this idea, and so this made much of what he wrote in the 2-volume work unnecessary. That is why this present volume, Cross Vision, is such a breath of fresh air.

What is GREAT about Cross Vision

In a concise and easy-to-read way, Greg Boyd presents the central ideas of his cruciform hermeneutic (how to read the Bible through the lens of Jesus Christ and Him crucified), while addressing some of the major issues related to this approach.

Also, this book includes more “illustrations” and stories than does the more scholarly work. This helps generate interest in the average reader and helps show why Greg’s cruciform hermeneutic is helpful for life, theology, and ministry.

There are so many other excellent things about his book. Just buy and read it. You’ll see.

My ONE Criticism of Cross Vision

As with the two-volume work, although I agree with nearly everything Greg writes in the book, I once again found myself disagreeing with the central idea … that God withdraws from Jesus on the cross, and therefore, in the violent portions of the OT, God is withdrawing Himself from the people and nations who experience/suffer violence.

While Greg is absolutely right that “something else is going on” in those violent texts, I do not think that the “something else” is that God is withdrawing from Jesus or from other people.

This doesn’t mean I reject the idea of understanding God and violent Scriptures through the cross of Christ. Far from it!

Yes, the Cruciform Hermeneutic is Correct

I too have a cruciform hermeneutic (which I refer to as crucivision), and I do not believe it is necessary to read Jesus’ statement from the cross “My God, My God, Why have you forsaken me?” as a statement about God withdrawing from Jesus. Therefore, I do not believe that it is necessary to read the violent portions of the OT as God withdrawing from other people/nations.

I do not believe God ever withdraws from the objects of His love, whether it is Jesus or humans. Jesus said, “I will never leave you nor forsake you,” and since Jesus fully reveals God to us, then we must not say that God ever leaves us or forsakes us either. He did not forsake Jesus, and God does not forsake (or withdraw from) humans (See my book, Nothing but the Blood of Jesus for my view).

Anyway, … yes, read this book. You can buy Cross Vision on Amazon. I recommend you read it before the two-volume work, The Crucifixion of the Warrior God. Greg presents a spectacular vision of the love God has for all people, as revealed in the crucified Christ.

Greg is absolutely correct that we must understand God, Scripture, and life through the lens of Jesus Christ and Him crucified. But if you are uncomfortable with the idea that God withdraws when people need Him most, just recognize that there are other ways of understanding what happened to Jesus on the cross and what His crucifixion reveals about the violent portions of Scripture.

Have you read these books by Greg Boyd? What were your thoughts?

God is Redeeming Books, Redeeming Theology Bible & Theology Topics: Books I'm Reading, crucifixion of Jesus, cruciform, crucivision, Greg Boyd

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Hack the Theologian – Greg Boyd

By Jeremy Myers
1 Comment

Hack the Theologian – Greg Boyd

This is part of an ongoing series where I briefly interview a theologian, pastor, author, or Bible scholar that I highly respect, and ask them to tell us a bit about themselves, their most current teaching project, and the one most important truth (the hack) they wish every Christian could learn.

I call the series “Hack the Theologian.” This doesn’t mean I think these theologians are hacks. Far from it! It means that I am trying to find (and share with you) the one thing that makes them tick, the one insight that keeps them writing and teaching, the one truth they are most passionate about, the one idea that turned their life and theology upside down. You can read the other posts in the series right here.

(Do you know an author I can highlight in this series? Have them contact me!)

So Let’s “Hack” Greg Boyd

Greg BoydGreg Boyd is the pastor of Woodland Hills Church in Minneapolis, MN, and author of numerous books, including his magnum opus, The Crucifixion of the Warrior God. His newest book, Cross Vision, is releasing on August 15. Since this is also my birthday, he clearly meant this as a birthday gift to me…

He also is putting on a conference about the topics of these books in September. I am attending the ReKnew Conference in September. If you live in the Minneapolis area, or are attending the ReKnew conference, let’s connect while I am there! Go here to register.

Here are Greg Boyd’s answers to my questions:

1. Can you tell us who you are and what you do in 40 words or less? (I put the word limit so we can see what you focus on.)

I am a pastor, theologian, professor, author, and public speaker. I’ve been married to Shelley Boyd for 38 years and we have three children and five grandchildren, and in my spare time I enjoy speed walking, speed metal, and drumming.

(Note: That was EXACTLY 40 words! Well done, Greg!)

2. Tell us something about yourself that few people know.

I have a phobia of sharp objects going into my eyes, to the point that I have trouble looking at any sharp object pointed in my direction, even when it’s on TV!

3. What is the best book you have read this past year? (It doesn’t have to be theological!)

N.T. Wright, The Day the Revolution Began

Cross Vision Greg Boyd4. You have a new book called Cross Vision. Tell us a bit about it. What is the main point and what do you want people to learn or do?

Cross Vision, teaches believers how to interpret the Old Testament’s violent portraits of God through the lens of the cross and to thereby see how these portraits bear witness to the self-sacrificial, non-violent, enemy-embracing love of God revealed on Calvary.

5. Karl Barth was once asked to summarize his life’s work in one sentence. He answered, “Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so.” How would you summarize your life’s work? To put this question another way, if you could get people to understand just one idea, what would it be?

All we need to know about God, ourselves, other people, and the world is found in the crucified Christ.

Greg Boyd’s new book is releasing tomorrow. I highly recommend you get a copy. Cross Vision, is available on Amazon.

God is Redeeming Theology, Theology Hack Bible & Theology Topics: Bible Study, cruciform, crucivision, Greg Boyd, hermeneutics

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