God Does Not . . . --- A Review
GOD DOES NOT . . . entertain, play “matchmaker, “ hurry, demand blood, cure every illness. Edited by D. Brent Laytham. Grand Rapids: Brazos Press, 2009. 160 pp.
This brief book contains six essays, written by seven Duke Divinity School Ph.D.s. Although, the backgrounds of the writers are not disclosed anywhere in or on the book itself, with the exception of the editor, though some googling, I was able to discern something of their backgrounds. Two of them, Kelly Johnson and Joel Shuman, appear to be Roman Catholic – or at least they teach at Catholic Schools. Three are United Methodist, Brent Laytham, Jason Byassee, and Daniel Bell, and two appear to be Presbyterian (Margaret Kim and Dwight Peterson), although I could be mistaken. Besides holding in common Duke Ph.D.’s they seem to be sharers of what Brian McLaren calls a Generous Orthodoxy.
The intent of the book is to challenge misconceptions and misunderstandings of the nature and purpose of God. This book apparently follows up on another, which I’ve not read, that was entitled God Is Not (Brazos, 2004). I’m assuming that the previous book dealt more specifically with ontological issues of God’s identity. This book, on other hand, largely focuses on God’s activities – or more specifically on those activities that God does not generally participate in. The final essay, written by the editor, concludes the discussion on a more positive note – insisting that what God does is “Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.”
My interest in this book stems from an essay written by Daniel Bell for the Christian Century – the same essay that appears here. Bell’s essay is entitled “God does not demand blood.” It is an attempt to wrestle with the doctrine of the atonement. I’m interested in this piece because I too struggle with what to make of biblical texts that insist that Jesus died for our sins. One of the more popular views is that Jesus’s blood satisfied God’s wrath or moral judgment. In other words if God is going to save us, he needs blood. As Bell rightly notes, most of us are revolted by the idea of blood sacrifice, and yet that very idea infuses much Christian theology and practice. Indeed, it shapes our view of God. Not only that but it gives support to the idea of “redemptive violence.” Bell insists that such ideas are not true to scripture and do not describe the God we know in Jesus. Yet, what about the cross? Bell wants to retain the idea of atonement, even Anselm’s doctrine of the atonement, but he wants to restructure it. What saves us is not Jesus’ blood, but his obedience and fidelity. In being faithful through death, Jesus overturns the human desire for blood. I appreciate his efforts, but at the end of the essay I understand why it’s so easy to accept the idea of penal substitution. I sinned, God’s justice demands payment in blood, I can’t pay it, so Jesus does. It’s clean and simple, and yet troubling. Bell’s reason for doing this is that he understands that for many Christians the cross is becoming increasingly problematic. He wants to offer an alternative, but I think more work needs to be done – for the sake of all of us.
That’s the reason I got the book. I wanted to not only reread the essay, but to find out what else could found in this book. Overall, I was pleased with what I found – even if I didn’t always agree. I do believe that we have embraced unfortunate ideas about God – turning God into something like a one-armed bandit. Put in the prayer, pull the lever, and you get what you want (sometimes).
Besides the Bell essay, the other essays deal with “God the Matchmaker,” “God the Hurrier” (an especially American idea), “God the one who Cures of every illness,” and “God the Entertainer” – not related, I don’t suppose to Cedric. Laytham notes in the introduction that distortions usually emerge from a grain of truth, but usually fail to root themselves in Jesus Christ and are too reflective of our cultural context. Unfortunately, these distortions are often held to by committed Christians. The book is centered around three central themes: 1) “a strong connection between divine action and happy endings,” 2) the linkage of divine action and violence, and 3) finally, “discerning divine action becomes self-referential – that is, God is interested in doing things for me!” (Pp. 12-13).
Joel Shuman’s essay focuses on God the Healer. He affirms God’s role in healing, but counters the almost magical idea that if I pray for healing then God will cure me. When medicine no longer works, then we’ll fill the gap with God. This is a nice antidote to that idea, showing us that God’s healing is much broader in scope and much less individualistic. It is, in fact, eschatological in nature, for God’s intent is the healing of creation, not simply the individual.
Kelly Johnson notes that our heroes are often in a hurry – even as we are too often in a hurry. We’re in a hurry because time isn’t on our side. Since we are hurriers, we expect God to hurry. But, as Johnson points out, God is not limited by time, and thus God is not in a hurry as are we. God is patient and we could learn from God’s patience – but lest we misunderstand, patience isn’t the same thing as passivity. God isn’t sitting back, waiting for things to happen. God is at work, just not in a rush. If we would embrace this idea of patience, then we would be able to face sin without panic. Oh, and something should be said about worship. Worship isn’t about hurrying, nor is it about efficiency. Spending time with God isn’t a waste of time, even if it’s not necessarily efficient.
Ah, “God the Matchmaker.” Certainly God is in the business of bringing us together with our soul mates. Of course, with the divorce rate as high as it is – even in Christian circles – God must be a very bad matchmaker. Margaret and Dwight Peterson tackle the “fantasy of romance” that plagues the Christian community. It is an idea that runs rampant through Christian romance novels and Christian guides to dating and marriage. It suggests that we ought to expect to fall in love and ride off into the sunset with our beloved. They helpfully counsel realism, and point out that Christian marriage is about more than romance and sole mates and big weddings:
The penultimate essay is written by Jason Byassee. Now, I must confess that Jason is the one writer in this group about whom I had some prior knowledge – except for having read Daniel Bell’s essay. If you’ve been reading the Christian Century over the past few years, you’ll know Jason. But, I’ve also been in regular contact with Jason, who until recently was editing my occasional contributions to Theolog. I need to say this up front, because while we may be Facebook friends, that’s not the reason why enjoyed his essay the most.
Jason takes on the idea that film has a certain sacramental quality. Now, Jason is a lover of film – he even liked Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ, which I hated. Thus, this isn’t an anti-culture diatribe. It is, however, a warning that we not get so enthralled with entertainment that we begin to conceive of God as an entertainer. Instead of entertaining us, God will, Jason writes, “delight us through our worship” (p. 109). The difference might be slight, but it is a reminder that God is not always in the spectacle. What makes them different? Perhaps assuming the doctrine of the church as the body of Christ, he writes:
Laytham brings the book to a close with a mediation on the Trinity – a meditation that gives a sense of meaning and coherence to this brief book. If there are certain things that God does not do, then the question what does God do? The answer is, “God does Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.” This is both a meditation upon the nature of God as Trinity, a concept that the writers all seem to affirm, and a response to what Laytham considers to be distortions of the doctrine of the Trinity. The distortion that he seeks to address is one that tries to make sense of the Trinity while avoiding masculine or patriarchal language. That rendition goes as follows: “Creator, Redeemer, Sustainer.” These are supposed to reflect the roles taken up by Father, Son, and Spirit. Unfortunately, Laytham writes, this formula both limits God and distorts God’s relationality. It is in essence a modalistic idea – suggesting that sometimes God acts in one way and at other in another way. While there is a gender issue inherent in the traditional formula, granting that, he believes that the traditional formula best expresses the idea that God is one and yet three, and that God as trinity always acts in concert.
As to why this all matters, Laytham suggests four reasons: 1) In baptism we don’t just identify with the Triune God, but we are incorporated into the Triune God. 2) Second the Trinity has to do with worship – worship that is shaped by the Trinity doesn’t conceive of God as being over there and we are over here. In Trinitarian worship, we respond to God’s redeeming work, which comes from the Father, through the Son, and in the Spirit, by offering praise that runs to the Father through the Son, and in the Spirit. That is, worship is a sharing in communion with God. 3) The Trinity allows for the church to reflect the diversity that is God. That God “does Father, Son and Holy Spirit,” reminds us that “hospitality to difference is at the very heart of God’s own life and thus must govern the church’s life together” (p. 150). The fourth and final reason the Trinity matters is that by understanding the nature of God as revealed in Jesus, we begin to understand that this God doesn’t write love stories or cure us of cancer simply because we believe, nor does God use a devastating hurricane to punish America. It is a challenge to sloppy and careless theology.
The theology is orthodox, even if of a moderate sort. It’s thoughtful, well articulated, and at points challenging. It’s the sort of book that a pastor could hand off to a church member – at least one that is reasonably well-versed in the faith. It would make for a good adult study, or even a youth study. There are parts of the book that will prove challenging – mainly Bell’s struggle with the atonement – but it’s still a really good book, even if you’re not in agreement at every point.
The intent of the book is to challenge misconceptions and misunderstandings of the nature and purpose of God. This book apparently follows up on another, which I’ve not read, that was entitled God Is Not (Brazos, 2004). I’m assuming that the previous book dealt more specifically with ontological issues of God’s identity. This book, on other hand, largely focuses on God’s activities – or more specifically on those activities that God does not generally participate in. The final essay, written by the editor, concludes the discussion on a more positive note – insisting that what God does is “Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.”
My interest in this book stems from an essay written by Daniel Bell for the Christian Century – the same essay that appears here. Bell’s essay is entitled “God does not demand blood.” It is an attempt to wrestle with the doctrine of the atonement. I’m interested in this piece because I too struggle with what to make of biblical texts that insist that Jesus died for our sins. One of the more popular views is that Jesus’s blood satisfied God’s wrath or moral judgment. In other words if God is going to save us, he needs blood. As Bell rightly notes, most of us are revolted by the idea of blood sacrifice, and yet that very idea infuses much Christian theology and practice. Indeed, it shapes our view of God. Not only that but it gives support to the idea of “redemptive violence.” Bell insists that such ideas are not true to scripture and do not describe the God we know in Jesus. Yet, what about the cross? Bell wants to retain the idea of atonement, even Anselm’s doctrine of the atonement, but he wants to restructure it. What saves us is not Jesus’ blood, but his obedience and fidelity. In being faithful through death, Jesus overturns the human desire for blood. I appreciate his efforts, but at the end of the essay I understand why it’s so easy to accept the idea of penal substitution. I sinned, God’s justice demands payment in blood, I can’t pay it, so Jesus does. It’s clean and simple, and yet troubling. Bell’s reason for doing this is that he understands that for many Christians the cross is becoming increasingly problematic. He wants to offer an alternative, but I think more work needs to be done – for the sake of all of us.
That’s the reason I got the book. I wanted to not only reread the essay, but to find out what else could found in this book. Overall, I was pleased with what I found – even if I didn’t always agree. I do believe that we have embraced unfortunate ideas about God – turning God into something like a one-armed bandit. Put in the prayer, pull the lever, and you get what you want (sometimes).
Besides the Bell essay, the other essays deal with “God the Matchmaker,” “God the Hurrier” (an especially American idea), “God the one who Cures of every illness,” and “God the Entertainer” – not related, I don’t suppose to Cedric. Laytham notes in the introduction that distortions usually emerge from a grain of truth, but usually fail to root themselves in Jesus Christ and are too reflective of our cultural context. Unfortunately, these distortions are often held to by committed Christians. The book is centered around three central themes: 1) “a strong connection between divine action and happy endings,” 2) the linkage of divine action and violence, and 3) finally, “discerning divine action becomes self-referential – that is, God is interested in doing things for me!” (Pp. 12-13).
Joel Shuman’s essay focuses on God the Healer. He affirms God’s role in healing, but counters the almost magical idea that if I pray for healing then God will cure me. When medicine no longer works, then we’ll fill the gap with God. This is a nice antidote to that idea, showing us that God’s healing is much broader in scope and much less individualistic. It is, in fact, eschatological in nature, for God’s intent is the healing of creation, not simply the individual.
Kelly Johnson notes that our heroes are often in a hurry – even as we are too often in a hurry. We’re in a hurry because time isn’t on our side. Since we are hurriers, we expect God to hurry. But, as Johnson points out, God is not limited by time, and thus God is not in a hurry as are we. God is patient and we could learn from God’s patience – but lest we misunderstand, patience isn’t the same thing as passivity. God isn’t sitting back, waiting for things to happen. God is at work, just not in a rush. If we would embrace this idea of patience, then we would be able to face sin without panic. Oh, and something should be said about worship. Worship isn’t about hurrying, nor is it about efficiency. Spending time with God isn’t a waste of time, even if it’s not necessarily efficient.
Ah, “God the Matchmaker.” Certainly God is in the business of bringing us together with our soul mates. Of course, with the divorce rate as high as it is – even in Christian circles – God must be a very bad matchmaker. Margaret and Dwight Peterson tackle the “fantasy of romance” that plagues the Christian community. It is an idea that runs rampant through Christian romance novels and Christian guides to dating and marriage. It suggests that we ought to expect to fall in love and ride off into the sunset with our beloved. They helpfully counsel realism, and point out that Christian marriage is about more than romance and sole mates and big weddings:
“Christian marriage recognizes that the little things matter at least as much as big ones, and probably more so. Part of the reason many people fail to develop the kind of bond that can get them through hard times is that they forgo the opportunity after opportunity to rejoice together in small blessings, and to deal intentionally and constructively with small challenges” (p. 104).
The penultimate essay is written by Jason Byassee. Now, I must confess that Jason is the one writer in this group about whom I had some prior knowledge – except for having read Daniel Bell’s essay. If you’ve been reading the Christian Century over the past few years, you’ll know Jason. But, I’ve also been in regular contact with Jason, who until recently was editing my occasional contributions to Theolog. I need to say this up front, because while we may be Facebook friends, that’s not the reason why enjoyed his essay the most.
Jason takes on the idea that film has a certain sacramental quality. Now, Jason is a lover of film – he even liked Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ, which I hated. Thus, this isn’t an anti-culture diatribe. It is, however, a warning that we not get so enthralled with entertainment that we begin to conceive of God as an entertainer. Instead of entertaining us, God will, Jason writes, “delight us through our worship” (p. 109). The difference might be slight, but it is a reminder that God is not always in the spectacle. What makes them different? Perhaps assuming the doctrine of the church as the body of Christ, he writes:
“The church is life itself, a marriage between divinity and humanity that echoes the incarnation itself. The movies? They’re entertainment, a personal lifestyle option” (p. 111).As powerful as film might be, and Jason admits to its power, he cannot admit to the idea suggested by some that movies are sacraments, and part of the reason why they’re not sacraments is that while one’s ability to hear and experience a movie is very personal and individual in orientation, sacraments – both the Lord’ Supper and Baptism, are communal. God might speak to me through film, but not in the same way that a sacrament does – simply because it doesn’t incorporate the community. We must be careful, for in the end, the theater and the church are in competition, and the theater can easily distract us form experiencing the presence of God, due to our need to experience the spectacle. Perhaps I appreciated this so much because I’m tired of having to compete with spectacle that dominates much popular Christian life. Is that really about God? And that goes for “high culture” as much as it does “pop culture.”
Laytham brings the book to a close with a mediation on the Trinity – a meditation that gives a sense of meaning and coherence to this brief book. If there are certain things that God does not do, then the question what does God do? The answer is, “God does Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.” This is both a meditation upon the nature of God as Trinity, a concept that the writers all seem to affirm, and a response to what Laytham considers to be distortions of the doctrine of the Trinity. The distortion that he seeks to address is one that tries to make sense of the Trinity while avoiding masculine or patriarchal language. That rendition goes as follows: “Creator, Redeemer, Sustainer.” These are supposed to reflect the roles taken up by Father, Son, and Spirit. Unfortunately, Laytham writes, this formula both limits God and distorts God’s relationality. It is in essence a modalistic idea – suggesting that sometimes God acts in one way and at other in another way. While there is a gender issue inherent in the traditional formula, granting that, he believes that the traditional formula best expresses the idea that God is one and yet three, and that God as trinity always acts in concert.
As to why this all matters, Laytham suggests four reasons: 1) In baptism we don’t just identify with the Triune God, but we are incorporated into the Triune God. 2) Second the Trinity has to do with worship – worship that is shaped by the Trinity doesn’t conceive of God as being over there and we are over here. In Trinitarian worship, we respond to God’s redeeming work, which comes from the Father, through the Son, and in the Spirit, by offering praise that runs to the Father through the Son, and in the Spirit. That is, worship is a sharing in communion with God. 3) The Trinity allows for the church to reflect the diversity that is God. That God “does Father, Son and Holy Spirit,” reminds us that “hospitality to difference is at the very heart of God’s own life and thus must govern the church’s life together” (p. 150). The fourth and final reason the Trinity matters is that by understanding the nature of God as revealed in Jesus, we begin to understand that this God doesn’t write love stories or cure us of cancer simply because we believe, nor does God use a devastating hurricane to punish America. It is a challenge to sloppy and careless theology.
The theology is orthodox, even if of a moderate sort. It’s thoughtful, well articulated, and at points challenging. It’s the sort of book that a pastor could hand off to a church member – at least one that is reasonably well-versed in the faith. It would make for a good adult study, or even a youth study. There are parts of the book that will prove challenging – mainly Bell’s struggle with the atonement – but it’s still a really good book, even if you’re not in agreement at every point.
Comments
I know the penal substitution wasn't the crux of your post, but I have a question on this common viewpoint of that atonement theory.
Doesn't the very concept of justice demand that the person responsible be the same one making the atonement? If I rob a house, I am the one who then suffers the consequences. No one would accept the situation where my sibling/child/parent would then go to jail for my actions.
Yet, under the penal substitution, it often comes across that God doesn't care whose blood it is so long as it's blood. And if the person responsible is no longer the one paying the debt, how can it then be called justice? Especially if an innocent person is the one paying the price.
I remember hearing the analogy of the judge getting down from the bench and taking on the penalty of the convicted person.
Although it does matter whose blood it is -- needs to be perfect -- I agree, I'm not sure it ultimately works. But beyond that, it seems to raise questions about the character of God.
I understand the sense of solidarity that we have in Christ. Jesus is the second Adam, and his death -- according to this idea -- undoes what Adam did. Interestingly, in the 2nd Century, Irenaeus suggested that Jesus undid what Adam did, simply by living sinlessly (it was in his life and not his death on the cross that Adam's transgression was overcome).
It's always interesting how people get here. I'd be curious what Jewish interpreters make of that text. They would be approaching it from a much different perspective.
You'll have to let me know what you discover.