The Heretic Next Door

Back in the first centuries of the Christian movement, a priest from Africa named Arius stirred up some trouble. Though Arius spent the majority of his days as a religious upstart at Alexandria, he was trained at Antioch. That’s an important bit of info. There were two main “schools” of thought in Christianity then: Antioch and Alexandria. Alexandria was known for interpreting the Bible in an allegorical fashion. Much of the Alexandrian writings are first year church history for seminary students. Antiochan giants like Theodoret of Cyrus, Theodore of Mopsuestia, and Diodore of Tarsus held to a strict literal interpretation of biblical passages. These are really important theologians who receive very little attention nowadays.

Arius began devoting his sermons to investigating the question: “Was Jesus really God or was he just a human?”Arius had trouble believing God and Jesus existed together prior to the incarnation. This really isn’t that surprising. Antiochian theology focused on the “humanness” of Jesus – it was only a slight misstep that would lead Arius toward a form of adoptionism. So, for roughly the next three centuries, Alexandrian-heavy councils dragged Arius and company through the mud in their writings using nasty words like “heretic.” And for most Christians, that’s all we know about him. Was Arius wrong? Sure. Jesus is God. But there’s more to the story.

People rarely ask why Arius struggled with the divinity of Jesus. His reasoning is not much different from many struggling Christians today. Most of us were taught growing up that God the Father was a sovereign despot concerned with protecting his image of magisterial omnipotence. Liberal Protestant preacher Lyman Abbot put it this way: God is a “kind of awful omnipotent police justice” and each of us is a “scared culprit who knows he is liable to punishment but does not clearly know why.”  And that keeps many Christians in line. Afraid of God…but in line.

There’s only one problem. Jesus looks very different than that…and in John 14, Jesus had the gall to say he was just like the Father. And that’s what bugged Arius so long ago. He had been taught that God was unfeeling (impassible) and Jesus seemed so different. And because God did not seem to possess the qualities associated with Jesus, Arius assumed they weren’t the same at all. He was protecting the Father’s impassibility over against the “human” suffering in Jesus. If God did not feel our pain, how could he become one of us? Arius’ answer was simple: he didn’t. Arius’ responded when asked if Jesus and God are the same: “No! I would never insult the majesty of God that way!” This thought pattern also affects how many view the cross today: good Jesus protecting us from bad God.

There’s a good lesson here. People’s actions make it in the textbook. But their intentions rarely do. And what’s important to note here is that a struggling priest was attempting to think outside the box when reconciling his ministerial training with what he actually read in the Bible. He’d been taught that God was a “police justice” and wasn’t sure what to do with the compassionate Jesus he read about in the gospels. No one else had a good answer either so he courageously took a stab at it and was branded a heretic for the ages. But really, he was just a man attempting to understand God a little better. Maybe we shouldn’t call him the heretic for the ages. How about the heretic next door?

We should be careful when reading our history books. While it’s important to oppose false doctrine, we need to be careful not to disdain the struggles, fears, and mistakes of people in the process. Arius was doing the best he could. May we have grace to do the same.

Does God “Need” Jesus to Forgive?

On Good Friday, let’s stir the pot a little, shall we?

Okay, if you were raised in the church like I was, you got a steady diet of forgiveness talk, usually centering around the cross. Of course, there are plenty of atonement theories to wade through in all your spare time – I talk about those here and here. In most people’s minds, forgiveness is not really a God-like trait, but more of a Christ-like trait. After all, basic evangelicalism teaches us that the cross was necessary in order for God to forgive humanity. Though no one ever says it, we were taught that forgiveness couldn’t happen without the cross. In order for that to be true, any references to God’s forgiveness without Jesus should be absent from other parts of the Bible, particularly the Old Testament. But that’s not the case. Curious? Are you squirming in your seat yet? Read on, my friend…

 Here are two verses (there are plenty of others) from the OT that express God’s forgiveness outside of the work of Jesus.

Numbers 14:20-22:

“Then the Lord said, ‘I will pardon them as you have requested. But as surely as I live, and as surely as the earth is filled with the Lord’s glory, not one of these people will ever enter that land.’”

This passage is early on in God’s relationship with Israel and though we assume that Deuteronomic covenant conditions dictate God’s forgivess/pardon of the Hebrews, in this case, it doesn’t. What is the deciding factor? Moses’s request for God to reconsider destroying the Hebrews. And what does Moses use as a foundation for the Hebrews pardon in vv. 17-19? God’s song. And based on his loyal character, God reconsiders and forgives. At the same time, in this passage, God does not lift the consequences of the Hebrews’ sin. But check out this verse…

Micah 7:18-20:

Where is another God like you,
      who pardons the guilt of the remnant,
      overlooking the sins of his special people?
      You will not stay angry with your people forever,
      because you delight in showing unfailing love.
 Once again you will have compassion on us.
      You will trample our sins under your feet
      and throw them into the depths of the ocean!
 You will show us your faithfulness and unfailing love
      as you promised to our ancestors Abraham and Jacob long ago. 

As God’s involvement with Israel continues over the centuries, his loyalty always outlasts the failings of the people. By the time of the prophet Micah, God’s “delight in showing unfailing love” moves him to a place of forgiveness. God (pre-incarnation) forgives without the cross specifically mentioned. Now, Christians love to read this passage as a future understanding of God’s plan of salvation in Jesus. But that’s not really what Micah was saying, is it? If we take this part of the Bible seriously, we must accept the beautiful reality that God has always had the ability to forgive sin. God never treats sin in a casual manner, but he does forgive it before the historical event of the atonement occurs.

How is that possible? Well, what’s really at issue here is God’s unfailing loyalty. Forgiveness is merely an outworking of that deeper divine character. Unfailing love breeds forgiveness. Jesus basically gives us the same scenario as the prophets when he describes the Father in the Parable of the Prodigal Son. I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed or not, but the term forgiveness, one Christians are obsessive about when talking of Jesus, is nowhere to be found in that story. Yet, there’s no doubt that forgiveness was on the mind of the father as he bounded up the road to hug and kiss his estranged child. That forgiveness is buried within the actions of an unconditionally loving father. It never has to be said. It’s just part of the deal.

So does God “need” Jesus to forgive? No. But God, after expressing that loyalty through other avenues like the prophets, finally chose to express that forgives through the sacrifice of Jesus so that we can grasp the incredible love of the Father. The intention was that though he may be misunderstood in the writings of the prophets and his dealings with Israel, the cross can never be misunderstood. All three persons of the Trinity we in co-mission at the cross, enabling, standing beside, and creating the greatest event in human history. Yet, somehow we still don’t get it – we create scenarios and a priori arguments of God necessitating the sacrifice of another to appease his wrath. And if you’re looking to placate and angry view of God, then the cross certainly works. But what about the verses above? They don’t diminish the beauty of Christ’s work on the cross…but they do emphasize the unfailing loyalty of the Father that has always existed – even before the cross. It seems God has been forgiving all along.

The Playful God

The Trinity is confusing. But it’s really important. Why? Because until we understand how God relates within his own being, we really can’t understand how he relates to us. And what does the Trinity teach us? That God is playful.

When I say the “playfulness” of God, I am attempting to describe God’s inter-Trinitarian nature. You see, since the beginning of time God has existed in three persons. He didn’t split into parts at John 1 and Acts 2. God is the Father, the Son, and the Spirit. Before the creation of the world, God interacted within his own persons, giving and receiving from each part in communion and unity, expressing the reality of his nature: love (1 John 4:7-11). Scholars (Jenson or Fiddes are good places to start) call this concept perichoresis: the equal interpenetration and mutual indwelling of divine persons. Trinitarian theology in this regard is still making its way into the popular religious mind. Due to subordinationism’s subtle influence on Protestant theology, perichoresis may sound strange to you. I always had a monolithic view of God with very separate roles for Jesus and the Holy Spirit as a younger Christian. I never thought about their involvement with the Father, prior to creation. For me, God was a static deity – one where activity was unnecessary since he had done everything he needed to before my arrival. I have since come to another conclusion. God more accurately represents reciprocity and cooperation.

God is “playful” in the way he relates to each person of the Trinity and how he relates to us. He’s dynamic, social, interactive, and above all, recreational. That’s the word I like to use. He draws significance from interaction and co-habitation. He seeks relationship for relationship’s sake. As such, humans, made in the image of God, are meant to be social, recreational, and interdependent upon one another as well. We are called to be more than human – we are called to be co-human: humans in communion with God and each other. That’s why God created the world – so he could interact with it, affirming its significance. God is the essence of loving community…and draws us to share in his goodness.

The problem with such language about God is that we have not passed the functional aspects of God into our conceptual framework of deity. Let me explain that idea., Normally, we see the opposite. We have conceptual (ontological) ideas of God (God is love, peace, justice, etc.) yet, those never find their way to a place of functional praxis. God is peace – but how does that peace manifest itself to us on a daily (economic) basis? God is with us, but how is God for us? In talking about the Trinity we have the opposite problem. We understand functional roles of the Father, Son, and Spirit, ( see 2 Corinthians 13:14, John 3:16, or John 16:5-15 for examples of functionality) but have trouble making the leap as to how this may change our conceptual view of God. If God is a monolithic deity, then the Trinity is not being taken seriously. If we apply functional aspects of the Trinity from the Bible to our conceptual view of God, then God looks like what I describe above.

But the real issue behind this is: if God is relational and recreational, then why do we consistently require God to be overly stern, serious, and angry all the time? He’s that way because we want him to be…or need him to be. There are plenty of scriptures in the Bible about God’s character that reflect the “playfulness”  of God. Psalm 145:7-8. Psalm 35:27. Isaiah 61:1-3. Isaiah 62:5. Zephaniah 3:17. Matthew 11:25-29. Luke 10:21. Luke 15:6. Ephesians 1:5-9. Look ‘em up. This is as much a part of God as any other “serious” characteristic of God, like wrath. If that has functional attributes, then “playfulness” does as well. Maybe I’m just a “glass half full” kinda guy. I used to believe that God had to be serious in order to be sovereign. Now, I think his willingness to relate in community to us speaks to his great kindness and goodness. With character unmatched, he enters into our lives fully expecting interaction and reciprocity for those he loves so dearly. That requires a social God of recreation – a God willing to “play.”

Trinitarian Evangelism

Similar to my obsession with divine sovereignty (an upcoming post), I have also been entertaining the idea of Trinitarian evangelism for about a year. I’m sure there are countless specialty books that delve into this topic specifically, but I haven’t read many of them. So, if I’m repeating something some world famous theologian has said, rest assured it was my idea first… 

Theology has shifted its focus to the Trinity in the last few decades. Part of this is to reformulate some Christian understanding of community. We are to imitate the relational aspect of God. Also, the charismatic movement has placed the “step child of the Trinity”(Van Dusen) on center stage. Uh oh. What do we do with the Holy Spirit?! So, Trinitarian models of theology began to show up (Rahner, Pannenberg, Jenson, Gunton, Moltmann, LaCugna, etc. No, I left Barth out on purpose. He wouldn’t like what I’m saying.). God began to be described as a “society of persons,” rather than some monolithic deity either with Christ or the Father at the center and the Holy Spirit as an ancillary member. This idea ran up hard against the hidden subordinationism evangelical theology implicitly subscribed to. But God can still remain one and be complex at the same time. The atom is a single entity, yet has several parts. If anything, the difficulty in describing God’s nature speaks to his greatness and complexity – something worthy of worship. So this “society of persons” relates, gives, supports, and involves all of its parts – defining love and community in the process. Weird, huh? Yeah, but fascinating, too. But there’s a problem.

 A lot of Trinitarian models continue to treat the Holy Spirit as the “social” or “immanent” Trinity (acting within itself and for itself – basically a conceptual model) when really from a practical standpoint what actually matters is the “economic” Trinity. An economic understanding of the Trinity describes how this society of persons relates to the created order. For the majority of everyday Christians living normal lives, that’s the important part. In other words, how does each “part” of God affect us? Hmmm…good question. That’s where my issues with Trinitarian evangelism come in.

Most evangelical models I know approach evangelism in the following way. After a person is brought to a place of conviction, someone leads a sinner to “accept Christ” or ask “Jesus to forgive their sins.” All that is fine, but where are the other two members of the Trinity? The focus is strictly on Jesus with the fringe benefit of getting the wrathful Father off your case. From what I can gather, we have a very linear way of expressing evangelism that most often includes an irregular form of subordinationism. Only, in evangelism, God the Father is not the top dog – Jesus is. That’s not to diminish the role of God the Son at all. However, if we take the Trinity seriously, we must find a place in evangelism on a practical level for God and for the Holy Spirit as well. I think the problem lies in the fact that we relegate all significance of the cross to ontological premise. But the cross has to be functional as well. In other words, the cross has to supply the bridge that not only allows us to pursue God but also for God to pursue us without inhibition. That includes the other two persons within the Trinity. So, rather than a single moment of evangelism that occurs looking back to the cross, the cross created a functional way for all three persons of the Trinity to simultaneously evangelize creation beyond the cross - even in the present moment, all three are engaged in evangelization of the world.

Rather than see Jesus, Father, and Spirit as a rank and file line for salvation (Jesus appeases the Father who, if you’re lucky, sends the Spirit.), maybe God is better explained as spokes in a wheel. That means that at any point all three persons within God’s “society” are free to pursue and attract any sinner based on which aspect of God he/she connects with the most. And I’m not talking about conceptual ideas of prevenient grace here – all of this falls into that category. What I am attempting to describe is how it looks to us as humans seeking God from the other side. For some, the loving Father is the attraction. For others, the Son holds particular significance. For others, the Spirit and the possibility of “feeling” God is attractive. Each person is different and God draws them by what attracts them to him the most – since he knows our hearts.

So, if God is a interweaving circle, a sinner can traverse along any “spoke” within the Trinity until he/she has reached the center. And there, he/she understands the role of all three persons and their joint, cooperative purpose of reaching him. That’s when salvation occurs. But in this model the Father and the Spirit hold the same level of attraction as Jesus does. Otherwise, only one aspect of the Trinity (Jesus) holds evangelical significance – the others are just for show. This doesn’t minimize the sacrifice of Jesus, his death and resurrection make all the “spokes” on the wheel of evangelism a functional reality.

Living Loved

Last year, I specifically remember walking past my oldest daughter’s room during her naptime. I stopped for a minute. Even today when I look at my children, I am overwhelmed by the responsibility of caring for them. That time - standing in the doorway –  was one of those moments. But it was also a time when I thought, I really hope I can teach and model the important things in life for her. With our third daughter due in September, that responsiblity still weighs heavily on me a year later. That day, watching her sleep, I thought about life lessons that mattered to me now and also those that I thought were much more important than they really were when I was a child. I spent a lot of time majoring on the minors, particularly as a young adult.

Of course, the first life lesson I thought of was “love God.” That seemed like a right answer – certainly the answer everyone would expect a Christian parent to say to their child. But I started thinking about the connotations behind that simple phrase. So much of my life was spent assuming that loving God involved “doing” or performing for him. I’ve talked about that wretched cycle here. But I really would like something more for my own children. That’s when I thought, maybe our life’s goal should be to let God love us. That was what I had missed all along growing up. I was uncomfortable knowing that I hadn’t done something for God spectacular enough to merit his love. People in the church talk a good game about this – almost always quoting phrases about being saved by grace and something about unmerited favor. But honestly, what I see in the church is Christians working overtime to “prove” to God that they are worthy of the “unmerited” grace they have already been given.

Part of this has to do with our view of God. I’m a big believer that the more we understand God, the more we are comfortable trusting him. That goes the other way as well – lordship is impossible when you don’t trust God. See, God is a recreational being. He’s social. He’s playful and interactive. He likes relationship and finds fulfillment in the “give and take” of all the members of the Trinity. We’re merely meant to dance the cosmic dance with our recreational God. That’s where our fulfillment comes from as well – not from another human. Don’t get me wrong – there’s nothing wrong with loving your family and friends. But there’s more to life than that. When God decided to make Eve, he did so because he thought it would be good for Adam. But nowhere in the biblical account does Adam say he is lonely. Adam was complete just by relating to his Maker. But in creating Eve, God imitates his own recreational and social nature. That’s amazing to me.

So, that’s my wish for my children – not that they’ll love God, but that they will being willing to let God love them. that they will “live loved.” That’s where fulfillment lies – within the realization of total acceptance by a relational and recreational God who’s whole intent is to give them their heart’s desire. Sound far-fetched? I don’t think so. It’s something I’m learning to walk in. I hope I can help my children understand that as much as God has captured their heart, they have also captured his. And that was God’s plan all along.

Okay, So Maybe They Don’t Understand the Trinity…

Immediately upon posting yesterday’s triumphant theological moment, the preschool teachers informed me today that Annagale was still struggling just a wee bit with the whole Trinity thing. In a question and answer time, the teacher said, “Okay, we have the Father, the Son and the Holy….?” Annagale confidently proclaimed: “Holy Cow!”

Did I mention she caught a lizard three times?

“My God, Why Have You Forsaken Me?”

Everyone in Christian evangelical circles has had this quote explained to them in the following way: “God is unable to look upon sin and hates it so much that he turned his back on Jesus. And Jesus cried out in that moment of loneliness and isolation: why have you forsaken me?”

Though that makes for good theatrics, it’s not really accurate. Jesus isn’t just saying some random phrase – he’s actually quoting Psalm 22. And throughout the majority of the New Testament, Old Testament passages that are quoted sparingly are meant to be interpreted in light of the of the whole passage, not just the snippet that, say, Paul or Luke might give you. It’s kind of like a song or hymn. Though most pop songs derive their titles from the chorus, hymns or praise and worship anthems use the first line. So, “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God” is actually the first line; so is “I’m Trading my Sorrows” or “As the Deer.” Jesus was actually quoting a song title – Psalm (song) 22 to be exact. He quotes the first line (verse 1), knowing that we’ll know that he meant for us to read the whole text in light of his crucifixion.

But we don’t. We lost that little cultural clue along the way. And our accepted legal model of the atonement is happy to see God turning his head away from his object of wrath: Jesus. So, why don’t I give you the rest of the song?

My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?
      Why are you so far away when I groan for help?
 Everyone who sees me mocks me.
      They sneer and shake their heads, saying,
“Is this the one who relies on the Lord?
      Then let the Lord save him!
 If the Lord loves him so much,
      let the Lord rescue him!”

 My enemies surround me like a pack of dogs;
      an evil gang closes in on me.
      They have pierced my hands and feet.
 I can count all my bones.
      My enemies stare at me and gloat.
 They divide my garments among themselves
      and throw dice for my clothing.

 Praise the Lord, all you who fear him!
      Honor him, all you descendants of Jacob!
      Show him reverence, all you descendants of Israel!
 For he has not ignored or belittled the suffering of the needy.
      He has not turned his back on them,
      but has listened to their cries for help.

 The whole earth will acknowledge the Lord and return to him.
      All the families of the nations will bow down before him.
 Our children will also serve him.
      Future generations will hear about the wonders of the Lord.
 His righteous acts will be told to those not yet born.
      They will hear about everything he has done.

So, what’s going on here? Well, like every Psalm, this one tells a story. Psalm 22 tells of possible abandonment and affliction by enemies. It even describes some of the events surrounding Jesus’ crucifixion (another reason why Jesus chose to quote it). But in the “song,” when things seem the darkest, God rescues the afflicted. And though the Psalmist in verse one believes God is turning his back, verse 24 tells us God has not done so. That’s the point Jesus was making. God (identifying with Jesus) is on a rescue mission to save the world so that everyone will “hear about everything he has done.” If we believe that the fullness of the Trinity was reconcilling the world, they were all there with Jesus at that moment. All three were completely invested in the death and resurrection of Jesus.

We’ve asked countless times why Jesus died on the cross. Yet, we fail to read the rest of the “song” after Jesus quotes its title. Psalm 22 explains the cross as a moment when everyone can see the depths to which the Trinity will go to reconcile the world – to heal and deliver it from certain destruction. God doesn’t turn his head. He does the opposite. He dives directly into the human condition by becoming one of us. He’s not too holy to look at sin. He’s too holy to let sin hold humanity captive. And like the Father who hugs his prodigal son whose covered in pig filth, God in Jesus surrounds himself with sin so he can explode sin from the inside out.

Now, that makes more sense, doesn’t it?

Asking Myself Strange (Theological) Questions, Part 2

So, now that I’ve explained a few of my more recent strange questions, I’ll give you my most recent theological question that I’ve been asking myself. This question has been haunting me for about two or three weeks now. If you’ve read some of my other posts, you’ll notice I’m really interested in the razor thin line between God’s sovereignty and his willingness to be vulnerable for the sake of love. That’s doesn’t mean God’s not omnipotent – it just means that part of being all-powerful is having the ability to limit that power for the sake of relationship. We leverage our power with our friends and children everyday. Wise use of power includes it’s control.

The question is: “Does God the Father live in a state of leveraged power (humiliation) for the sake of humanity?” Now, for all you theologians out there, notice I didn’t say God the Son. The Bible is pretty clear that through the incarnation and the ascension, Christ now remains in a state of permanent humiliation. Part of humanity’s rescue was to include humanity into the divine life of God. At its basic level, that means that in Jesus, a human, now resides within the fellowship of the Trinity. Jesus, by “emptying himself of his privileges,” lives in a humiliated state of confinement that he previously did not know before the incarnation. And yes, God has now highly exalted him…but it’s within a resurrected human body that Jesus returned to the Father. So when the Son was sent, in a way he was permanently sent – it altered him forever. Jesus represents that divine limitation right now as he intercedes for us.

Okay, but that wasn’t the question was it?  I said God the Father exists in a state of leveraged power for our sakes. How is that? Well, we can agree that God is all-powerful and capable of deciding how humans enter into relationship with him. But the Father (with the Son) chose the incarnation, the cross, and the resurrection as the universal paradigm from which all humans would understand the Father’s good nature. He chose a single method of revelation and is confined to that chosen revelation: the revelation of Jesus Christ. Therefore, the Father is only fully understood by limiting himself to what we understand about Jesus. Otherwise, we don’t fully grasp him. In essence the Father said, “the only way to see me is to see the Son.” That’s why Jesus said “If you’ve seen me, you’ve seen the Father.” It also gives new depth Jesus’s words: ”No one comes to the Father but through me.” Jesus became the point of entry by which we not only understand the Son, but also the Father. The Father chose this self-limitation for the derived benefit of helping us fully understand his goodness. So, the Father is limited to conveying his goodness through the revelation of the Son. In other words, the Father is dependent upon the Son to speak of his glory. That’s means the Father also entered into a state of humiliation with Jesus for the sake of love.

Any thoughts?

What a Great Worship Song!

Sorry I haven’t been around to return comments and such for the last few days. You’ll understand when I say that I was here:

If you’ve read this post, you know I have a precarious relationship with worship music. I can’t exactly tell you why some songs get my attention and others don’t. But I’ve played one worship song several times a day for the past three weeks: “Only True God.” You can hear a little bit of it here and here. It’s by Paul Baloche and Kathryn Scott of Vineyard fame. Here are the lyrics:

Beyond us, God within us
Revealed, yet we see in part
Transcendent, but so near us
The mystery dwelling within our hearts

Father, Spirit, Son, only true God
Exalted three in one, only true God
Only true God

Majestic, God above us
Enthroned, yet You wash our feet
Humble, but so holy
All of creation bows when You speak

Father, Spirit, Son, only true God
Exalted three in one, only true God

God of all things, God Who saves us
God within us, You are God
God of all things, God Who saves us
God within us, You are God

Normally I don’t go for the whole “declare your doctrine” through praise music trend (I’ll be happy when Matt Redman and company move past it). But somehow this song does that and still finds way to make it personal. I don’t know – maybe it’s the 3/4 time feel or Kathryn’s voice or the intimate images that balance power and humility. But I totally love this song.  LOVE IT, PEOPLE! Maybe you can tell me why.

More than ever before, Christians are beginning to understand that it’s the interaction between the members of the Trinity that really demonstrates and displays the true nature of God – dare I say his playfulness. That’s why Paul Young’s “The Shack” is so popular – it gives a glimpse of that interaction which sharpens all Three. For me, this song really captures this. It feels like it was written by someone about their close friend – someone whose complexity they find difficult to describe, yet familiar all at the same time. That’s what Paul and Kathryn were doing. They were describing their friend when they wrote this song.

The Theology of “The Shack”

I just finished The Shack by William Young. I laughed. I cried. I finished it in two days. What a beautiful, beautiful book. If you have not read it, please, for the love of all that is decent and holy, pick it up.

Though it’s fiction, Young deals with some amazingly complex theology in the book. And, though most reviews slam the book’s theological perspective, I would like to help set the record straight. Below I point you to some scholarly sources that confirm and elaborate on the ideas found in The Shack. I don’t agree with everything I read (though I certainly agree with a whole lot of it), but it’s important for you to know that Young isn’t expounding some “strange wind of doctrine” to whisk the Christian community into deception. He’s actually more theologically up-to-date than most of his detractors.

But how did I know I was really  going to like this book? In his acknowledgements, Young lists Malcolm Smith as an influence in writing the book. Malcolm is one of the most unrecognized yet most influential Bible teachers of the last 50 years. You want depth in your Christianity? Go to his site and buy every book and CD you can purchase.

I don’t have time to provide academic references for everything in The Shack, but a few should help you know that Young isn’t some crazy dude who’s making up stuff.

Concerned about Young’s use of metaphor and gender in describing God (chapter 5)? For metaphor, go read Sallie McFague’s Metaphorical Theology: Models of God in Religious Language. For gender, see Elizabeth Johnson’s She Who Is, or Paul Smith’s Is It Okay to Call God Mother?: Considering the Feminine Face of God.

Concerned about Young’s equality among the Trinity (chapter 8)? Read Robert Jenson’s The Triune Identity: God According to the Gospel, Karl Rahner’s The Trinity, or Catherine Lacugna’s God for Us: The Trinity and Christian Life.

Don’t like the idea of God having the “scars” of Jesus on his hands (chapter 6)? Read Jurgen Moltmann’s The Crucified God or The Creative Suffering of God by Paul Fiddes.

Don’t like the idea that Jesus proved his humanity in healing others (pp. 99-100)? Read about “Spirit Christology” in James Sheldon’s Mighty in Word and Deed or Gerald Hawthorne’s The Presence and the Power.

Confused by Sarayu’s speech on God as a “verb” rather than a “noun”? Read Miroslav Volf’s Work in the Spirit: Toward a Theology of Work.

Confused about Jesus’s lecture on submission and equality between men and women (chapter 10)? Go read Paul Jewett’s Man as Male and Female: A Study in Sexual Relationships from a Theological Point of View.

Don’t like Sophia’s view of judgment (chapter 11)? Go read Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s Creation and Fall/Temptation.

Don’t like the idea of God being limited by his love for us? Read W.H. Vanstone’s The Risk of Love.

So, that should help. Young isn’t saying anything new – just things that have remained within academic circles until recently. Hopefully this encourages you to study out some of the ideas Young put forward in his book…oh, yeah, and go check out Malcolm Smith.