Tag Archives: atonement

Did God Crush His Only Son? — Making Sense of Isaiah 53, the Cross of Christ, and the Bible of the Early Church

Christians of all shapes and sizes believe that “Jesus died for our sins.” But the rub comes in trying to explain exactly what that means.

There is a song we sing in the non-denominational church my wife and I attend which has a line in it which has puzzled me recently. Written by Pat Szcebel, of Sovereign Grace Worship, back in 2003, “Jesus, Thank You,” the first verse goes like this:

The mystery of the cross I cannot comprehend
The agonies of Calvary
You the perfect Holy One, crushed Your Son
Who drank the bitter cup reserved for me

That third line is a curiosity: “You the perfect Holy One, crushed Your Son.” At the very least, it sounds pretty harsh. What does that even mean? Did God the Father really “crush” his only Son?

Where does this idea come from in the first place? Well, it turns out that explaining the answer to this question can take you down a very interesting rabbit trail.

However, the idea detailed here is not about some random trivia, meant to help you win some kind of Bible quiz or to impress a friend at some social gathering. Instead, it is about something really, really important in how we as Christians think what the Gospel is.

It involves a famous Old Testament passage, Isaiah 53, but simply quoting from Isaiah 53 is not enough to try to unpack what is going on here. It involves an exploration into how the writers of the New Testament make use of passages of the Old Testament like this. It also involves what translation of the Old Testament the New Testament writers were using. Once you dig deeper, you begin to realize that there is more going here than simply appealing to one Bible verse as a prooftext.

Put on your thinking cap with me…. and let us go for a ride. Shall we??

There is a debate in evangelical circles around “penal substitutionary atonement,” which continues to swirl in the social media world of YouTube. The controversy is also a favorite complaint made by atheists.

In this worship song, this line comes from Isaiah 53:10, part of the famous passage about the Suffering Servant, which according to the ESV (English Standard Version) translation reads:

Yet it was the will of the Lord to crush him;
he has put him to grief;
when his soul makes an offering for guilt,
he shall see his offspring; he shall prolong his days;
the will of the Lord shall prosper in his hand.

Well, you would think that this settles the debate once and for all: God did crush his only Son. But there are some who question this translation of Isaiah 53:10…. and for good reason.

The challenge is that the meaning of a God who would “crush” the Son is not inherently obvious. The logic can be a bit difficult to grasp, but please hang with me.  I promise you, even if you are not completely convinced by what I present here, if you stick with it until the very end, you will never read Isaiah 53 again in the same way.

 

Who is the Suffering Servant? Is it the Lamb of God, the unblemished sacrifice to take away the sins of the world? Christians will say, “Yes,”  that the Suffering Servant is Jesus:  But in what sense does it mean to say that Jesus is the Suffering Servant of Isaiah 53?

 

 

Different Translations of Isaiah 53 ???

In fact, there are translations of Isaiah 53:10 which take a harder line, not simply saying that it was within the will of God that Jesus be “crushed,” but that God the Father took “pleasure” in it. The venerable KJV (King James Version) translation took it that way, and the CSB (Christian Standard Bible) is not that much different:

Yet the Lord was pleased to crush him severely.
When you make him a guilt offering,
he will see his seed, he will prolong his days,
and by his hand, the Lord’s pleasure will be accomplished.

The primary philosophical objection is that it would have been unbecoming of the character of God the Father for him to “crush” the Son of God, when Jesus died for our sins at Calvary, as it implies that the Father took some kind of pleasure in “killing,” or “crushing” Jesus.

After all, even Proverbs 17:15 says that God considers the punishment of an innocent person to be an abomination. If indeed Jesus, as the Son of God, was perfectly innocent of sin, then why would the Father punish Jesus? What do we do this?

Let us first acknowledge some fundamental Christian truth claims: Make no mistake of it: God really hates sin. Furthermore, humans are crushed by sin. God’s solution was for Jesus to take away the sins of the world.

Sinful humanity lives in rebellion from a holy God. But God has made a way for us to be reconciled to our Creator, through the work of Jesus Christ on the cross.

But to say that God the Father takes “pleasure” in crushing Jesus, the Son, can put a kink into a healthy, robust theology. In this approach, sinful humanity gets a reprieve from God’s wrath, but the innocent Son takes the full brunt of the Father’s anger. In response, the Father appears to be appeased with what occurs. Is that really how the death of Christ in dealing with human sin “works?” More importantly, is that the kind of God one ought to worship?

 

The Puzzle of Reading Isaiah 53 in Hebrew

As it turns out, the translation of Isaiah 53 can be quite difficult and tricky. Down the rabbit trail we go.

First of all, that word in Hebrew, “da-kha,” does mean to be “to be crushed” or “to be broken.” But there is also a figurative meaning of “da-kha,” as in “to be contrite.” So it is possible to interpret the first part of Isaiah 53:10 to say that God through Jesus became “contrite,” feeling deep remorse, guilt or sorrow for humanity’s wrongdoing.

Consider Isaiah 57:15 where this Hebrew word da-kha means “contrite”:

For thus says the One who is high and lifted up,
who inhabits eternity, whose name is Holy:
“I dwell in the high and holy place,
and also with him who is of a contrite and lowly spirit,
to revive the spirit of the lowly,
and to revive the heart of the contrite.

In the doctrine of penal substitutionary atonement, this is often understood to mean that at the cross Jesus took our sin upon himself, bearing the weight of deep remorse, guilt, and sorrow for the wrongdoing of humankind. This helps us to better understand those translations that say that God the Father took “pleasure” in “crushing” the Son. Instead of a picture of God as an angry Father taking pleasure in seeing the Suffering Servant; that is, the Son, suffer under being “crushed,” as in being beaten to death, a more positive picture emerges. In this more positive picture, God is pleased that the “crushing” weight of sin and guilt has been taken off of us sinful humans, to be dealt with by God in himself.

In this sense, the Lord is not taking pleasure as some sadistic pagan deity might in seeing pain inflicted on someone else. Rather, God is satisfied with the outcome, a restored relationship between God and the Creatures he made.

However, while this interpretation is plausible, there is a major problem with it. For this interpretation to work, it requires that it is sin and guilt doing the “crushing” of the Son, and that God the Father’s role is more passively allowing this “crushing” by sin and guilt to take place, while the Father is actively pleased with the result of this “crushing,” namely the satisfaction of having a restored relationship between the Creator and creatures made, putting back the pieces which sin and guilt tore apart.

But the verse really does not read that way. Instead, it would appear that God the Father is really the one in the active role of “crushing” the Son, and not the weight of sin and guilt. This raises again philosophical questions as to why God would take pleasure in crushing the Suffering Servant found here in Isaiah 53.

A variation of this interpretation suggests that when God seeks to “crush” the servant, that this is an effort to uphold the ultimate sovereignty of God in all things; that is, that nothing happens for which God does not have some type of contingency plan to address. But while God stands behind all things, as the indirect cause, there can still be an intermediate cause which directly results in some particular outcome. God is the ultimate cause, in a sense, but God’s involvement is indirect, as opposed to some other direct, intermediate cause being also responsible, in some way.

Consider the historical context which Isaiah is addressing in Isaiah 53.  The Babylonians had crushed the southern Hebrew kingdom of Judah, in the 6th century before Christ. Multiple prophets in the Bible have described this as God’s way of punishing the Jews, using the Babylonians as a vehicle for delivering that punishment.

Perhaps the Babylonians were crushing the Suffering Servant as an intermediate, more direct cause. However, the obvious problem here is that the verse indicates that God is indeed the cause of the Suffering Servant’s suffering without exception, with no mention of any other intermediate cause bringing suffering upon the Suffering Servant. This particular variation in interpretation thus ends up depending on an argument from silence.

 

Learning from Eastern Christians, as to How The Early Church Read the Old Testament

As it turns out, in Eastern Orthodox Christianity, the philosophical objection against God “crushing” the Son is more than just a philosophical whim. It actually has a textual basis in how the Old Testament is translated. If you pick up a copy of the NKJV Orthodox Study Bible, and read Isaiah 53:10, you get a very different sense of what is going on… a VERY DIFFERENT sense:

The Lord wishes to cleanse Him of His wound, and if You give an offering for sin, Your soul shall see a long-lived seed.

There are a lot of moving parts with this translation of Isaiah 53 as a whole, and how it all relates to the New Testament, so let us zone in on one particular problem. For the sake of simplicity, we can focus on the sense of the Lord wishing to “cleanse” the Suffering Servant. Here it suggests that what is going on with the death of Jesus is that rather than God the Father “crushing” his Son, it is God the Father “cleansing” the Son of his wound he endured on Calvary’s hill.

“Cleansing” versus “crushing.” The images these terms bring up are in stark contrast.

So, why is this translation that Eastern Orthodox Christians use so different?

The English Standard Version bases its translation of the Old Testament on what is called the Masoretic text, or Hebrew version of the Bible, preserved by the Jewish community down through the centuries. With the NKJV Orthodox Study Bible, the translators follow the so-called Septuagint, or the Greek translation of the Old Testament (Take a look at a previous Veracity blog post for more info on the Septuagint).

All of this plays into the reason why Isaiah 53:10 looks so different across different Bibles. Protestant Bibles typically preserve the Hebrew Masoretic reading of Isaiah 53:10 (where the Lord desires to “crush“) , whereas Eastern Orthodox Bibles follow the Greek Septuagint (where the Lord desires to “cleanse“). To make matters more complicated, to my knowledge what we have uncovered at Qumran with the Dead Sea Scrolls, particularly with the famous Great Isaiah Scroll, follows the Masoretic tradition for Isaiah 53:10.

 

The Bible of the Early Church Was Primarily the Greek Old Testament, Not the Hebrew

This brings up a very important point that most Christians completely miss. In fact, I went through multiple years of theological seminary and never picked up on this until long after I finished my degree.

The earliest Christians of the first century, particular as the Gospel spread throughout the Greco-Roman world, even outside of Judea, primarily spoke Greek. As a result, the Greek Septuagint translation, for the most part, became the “Bible” of the early church, not the Hebrew Bible, which not that many people understood, certainly among the growing number of Gentiles joining the Christian movement. The authors of the New Testament, who wrote in Greek, generally followed this tradition (There is one notable exception: the Book of Revelation, whereby the author fairly frequently directly transliterates Hebrew into Greek, but that is a story for another time).

Whenever a New Testament writer quotes from or alludes to Isaiah 53, the author uses the Septuagint reading and not the Masoretic reading. A couple of examples demonstrate the difficulty faced in understanding how the New Testament uses the Old Testament.

In Acts 8:32-33, Luke quotes from the Greek Old Testament (Septuagint), at Isaiah 53:7b-8. Here we read about Philip’s encounter with the Ethiopian eunuch , who was puzzled over Isaiah 53 (as many today still are):

Now the passage of the Scripture that he was reading was this:

“Like a sheep he was led to the slaughter
and like a lamb before its shearer is silent,
so he opens not his mouth.
In his humiliation justice was denied him.
Who can describe his generation?
For his life is taken away from the earth.”

But if you look back at Isaiah 53:7b-8, which in most English Bibles is translated from the Masoretic Hebrew, there is a difference which is striking:

like a lamb that is led to the slaughter,
and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent,
so he opened not his mouth.
By oppression and judgment he was taken away;
and as for his generation, who considered
that he was cut off out of the land of the living,
stricken for the transgression of my people?

Take note of the highlighted line: According to the Hebrew, it was “by oppression and judgment he was taken away,” indicating that the Suffering Servant received judgment (or “justice”) presumably from God, through an act of punishment. Contrast that with the Greek version, whereby “in his humiliation justice was denied him,” suggesting that the Suffering Servant did not receive justice.

In other words, according to the Hebrew, it was by judgment that he (the Suffering Servant) was taken away.  But in the Greek version, it was the judgment itself (not the Suffering Servant) that was taken away.

Or to put it another way, according to the Hebrew, God takes the Suffering Servant away (by judgment, through a form of punishment).  According to the Greek, God takes the judgment away, thus denying judgment to the Suffering Servant. In some versions of the Greek, the subject is explicit: “In His humiliation His judgment was taken away.”

So, which is it, was the Suffering Servant a recipient of justice…. or was he not?

You can look up several other examples which also can be puzzling (The New Testament reference quotes from the Greek Septuagint, whereas the Isaiah Old Testament passage is translated from the Hebrew):

A messianic Jewish scholar, Eitan Bar, provocatively brings out a particularly insightful observation concerning 1 Peter 2:22-25 which I had not seen before. Unlike the ESV translation, the NIV reads verse 23 as follows:

When they hurled their insults at him, he did not retaliate; when he suffered, he made no threats. Instead, he entrusted himself to him who judges justly.

This is an allusion to Isaiah 53, where the Suffering Servant motif has been understood by Peter to be a reference to Jesus, the one who suffered on the cross. But if God the Father was the one who crushed the Son, then why are those who hurled insults at the Son described in the plural, as with “they” with “their insults?”  The Father is always spoken of in the New Testament in the singular, and not in the plural. Who then is the “they?”

In the providence of God, it might be reasonable to say that the Father was an indirect cause of what happened to the Son on the cross, as though nothing escapes the plans and purposes of God. Fair enough. But the use of “they” might indicate the Roman soldiers, etc. were the ones who directly whipped and scourged Jesus. For if it were the Father who was the one who directly crushed the Son, why does Peter, one of the earliest Christians, not clearly come out and say this?

Mmmmmm…..

When I run into things like this when I am studying the Bible, it makes me think of that scene from The Wizard of Oz:  “Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain.”

Wow. Indeed. So what does one do with all of this?

Some Possible Ingredients to Help Solve the Isaiah 53 Puzzle

What we do know are two things: First, words in the ancient world have indeed changed meaning over time, so scholars must be careful to consider this when we come to difficult Bible translation issues like this. If you do not believe me, then go and pick up a King James Version translation of the Bible, finished in 1611, and compare that to a modern translation, in say a well-known passage like Psalm 23:1.

The KJV reads: “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.” But the CSB (Christian Standard Bible) reads “The Lord is my shepherd; I have what I need.

I have what I need” makes sense, whereas “I shall not want,” from the KJV, is the classic reading, but it can be confusing.

See what I mean?

I can draw out another example here: What does the word “halt” mean? I can think of lines in movies where someone says, “Halt! Who goes there?” In this modern sense, “halt” means an order to stop. Stop moving!!

But take a look at the King James Version (KJV) reading of  Luke 14:21: “…Bring in hither the poor, and the maimed, and the halt, and the blind.”

To say that Jesus wants to heal the “halt” in the modern sense, does not make any sense!

But in 1611, some 400 years ago, the word “halt” meant something completely different than what we think it means today. Back then, those who “halt” are those who are physically impaired in some way.

In other words, the meaning of the word “halt” has changed over the centuries. It is quite possible that the Hebrew word for “crush” might have changed meaning over the centuries, too, though there is some significant scholarly debate about this particular word.

Secondly, the ancient Hebrew language is way more ambiguous than its nearby rival language, ancient Koine Greek, the language of the New Testament. The number of words in the Hebrew lexicon is significantly smaller than the number of words in the Greek lexicon. Therefore, in order to determine a meaning of the word, Hebrew is much more context dependent than Greek.

Furthermore, as Old Testament scholar John Goldingay says in his The Old Testament for Everyone Commentary on Isaiah 53 (p. 3971), Isaiah 53 as a whole is one of the more difficult passages in the Old Testament to interpret. Gregory Beale and D.A. Carson, both well respected conservative scholars, flat out say that the Hebrew text of Isaiah is “far from easy to understand” (Commentary on the New Testament Use of the Old Testament, p. 573). The bigger picture of Isaiah 53 is clear, but it is possible to get bogged down in all of the details.

This should adequately explain why there are so many variations of Isaiah 53:10 when it comes to translating the Hebrew into English. Was it “the will of the Lord to crush him, he has put him to grief” as the ESV reads, or did the CSB version get it right: “Yet the Lord was pleased to crush him severely?” Apparently, the Hebrew is ambiguous enough to go either way.

However, what is left open deals with what to do with the “crushing” as opposed to the “cleansing” or “purifying” activity of the Father with respect to the wounded Son, as suggested by the Septuagint translators, an idea that the New Testament picks up on. So, why did the Septuagint translators go with “cleansing” and not “crushing?” That Greek word for “cleansing” interestingly is the root word for our modern English word “catharsis.” Is it possible that the Greek language for the term “cleansing;” related to our modern “catharsis,” changed meaning over time?

It is certainly worth thinking about.

But I am not convinced that this entire approach I just outlined is entirely right. As it turns out, there is yet another contextual concern which flips how Isaiah 53 is often read in the Masoretic version, which might better explain why the Septuagint version sounds so different. The reason why this is important is because a number of scholars, particularly of the Protestant variety, tend to elevate the Masoretic translation of the Old Testament as superior to the Septuagint. But since the New Testament writers tend to quote more from the Septuagint, as opposed to a straight translation of the Masoretic text, it does raise some problems for those scholars who prioritize the Masoretic at the expense of the Septuagint.

In my view, this other approach which I will advocate for has the greater explanatory power. Otherwise, you might end up concluding that the original meaning of Isaiah 53 has been hopelessly lost, due to conflicting variations of translations.

But I do not think we need to go there. There is a better solution to the puzzle.

We pick up the rabbit trail again, to see where it leads. ….

Did God the Father “crush” God the Son, as Jesus was dying on the cross for our sins? The answer to this questions takes on a wild ride, looking a Isaiah 53, the difference between translations, and how the early church read the Bible…. and what we can learn from all of this.

 

The Historical Context for Isaiah 53

As New Testament scholar Ben Witherington has famously said: “A text without a context is just a pretext for whatever you want it to mean.”

It is absolutely crucial to understand the context for Isaiah 53, and unfortunately, many Christians seem to miss this. Isaiah is describing a time when the nation of Israel will be allowed to return from exile. Years earlier, the cultural elite of what remained of the Israelites had been forcibly marched across the fertile crescent to Babylon, spending some seventy years in an area what we now know as part of modern day Iraq. The Babylonians in 587 BCE had successfully defeated the southern kingdom of Judah, destroying the Temple built by Solomon, and flattening the walls of Jerusalem, ruining the city.

The nations around Judah had mocked the survivors of this exile to Babylon. As onlookers to the demise of Judah, primarily “kings” of surrounding Gentile nations, they had concluded that the God of Israel had failed these people, and that these people had failed Yahweh, their God. Those from Judah had brought so much displeasure to their God that this God had sent these people off to Babylon to be punished for their sins.

These survivors who were marched off to Babylon had become the “Suffering Servant” as described in Isaiah 53. To the onlookers (or what some scholars simply describe as “the crowd), the sad plight of these survivors proved that the God of Israel was powerless to save these people….. or perhaps even worse, that the God of Israel just gave up on his covenant people, abandoning them to their fate in the hands of the Babylonians.

Nevertheless, a radical turn of events was being prophesied to take place. Now those Jews who were living in exile in Babylon, as the Suffering Servant, according to this prophecy of Isaiah, were to be given permission to return to their land, to restore their nation. This Suffering Servant was being given hope that God had not abandoned his people, contrary to what the onlookers (or “the crowd”) were claiming.

The exile was not a permanent situation, according to Isaiah. The Suffering Servant would be vindicated. While the onlookers had claimed that God had “crushed” his people, this was not the full story. It may have appeared that God had “crushed” the Suffering Servant. But instead, good news was at hand.

What really was going on was that God was taking his people through this time of great trial in order to give the land, back in Israel, a time for renewal and restoration. In this sense, a kind of cleansing and healing was happening back in the land while the people were off in Babylon living under exile. The prophet Isaiah was effectively announcing that the onlookers, who had mocked the Jews over their misfortune, were the ones in the wrong. Now, God was on the verge of returning the people from this exile so that they could dwell back in a fully cleansed and healed land.

This theme of exile and restoration, as portrayed by Isaiah 53, was picked up in numerous places in the New Testament. In this sense, the Suffering Servant of the 6th century BCE was typologically pointing towards the coming of the Messiah. The Messiah would be the true Suffering Servant, who would ultimately defeat the powers of sin, evil, and death. Christians know this Messiah to be Jesus, the one who died on the cross for our sins.

 

The Masoretic (Hebrew) Versus the Septuagint (Greek) Readings of Isaiah 53

With this context in mind, it can frame for us a better way of reading Isaiah 53, to account for why the Masoretic and Septuagint versions differ so sharply. Essentially, in Isaiah 53, we have a dialogue going on, shifting back and forth between the mockery of the onlookers versus the prophet Isaiah speaking on behalf of Yahweh, the God of Israel.

We have evidence for this starting back in Isaiah 52:13-15 (ESV):

Behold, my servant shall act wisely;
he shall be high and lifted up, and shall be exalted.
As many were astonished at you—
his appearance was so marred, beyond human semblance,
and his form beyond that of the children of mankind—
so shall he sprinkle many nations.
Kings shall shut their mouths because of him,
for that which has not been told them they see,
and that which they have not heard they understand.

Here the prophet Isaiah tells us of the perspective of Yahweh, the God of Israel. These neighboring “Kings” of other nations were “astonished” by the humiliation of the “servant.” Nevertheless, these “Kings,” these onlookers, see things “for that which has not been told.” They have supposedly understood things “which they have not heard.” In other words, these onlookers have been mocking the Suffering Servant, saying things about the servant which were not true. So, it is God’s intent to “shut their mouths” because of what God will eventually do with the Suffering Servant. The purpose of Isaiah 53 is to lay out what the onlookers mockingly say about the Suffering Servant and contrast that with what God through the prophet Isaiah is really saying about that servant.

In other words, the big takeaway from Isaiah 53 is that it is not a monologue coming from the mouth of the prophet. Instead, it is a dialogue between the prophet Isaiah and those onlookers who are mocking Isaiah and the God he worships.

However, what makes translating and interpreting Isaiah 53 so difficult is that there are no obvious markers to show where the onlookers were speaking versus where the prophet was speaking on behalf of Yahweh. In ancient Hebrew, there are no quotation marks like what we have in English which designate when and where a speaker changes in a dialogue. We only have the literary context to go on in order to figure out when, where, and who is speaking. As a result, different scholars have tried to reconstruct this dialogue, but there is no clear established consensus as to what this exactly looks like.

 

Reconstructing the Dialogue in Isaiah 53

One possible reconstruction looks like this: Isaiah 53:10 in the Masoretic version, at least in the first part of the verse, gives us a portion of the dialogue from the perspective of the onlookers:

Yet it was the will of the Lord to crush him;
he has put him to grief (ESV)

Essentially, the onlookers understand the people of Israel to be the “servant,” and they mockingly say: “Look at those pitiful people. Even the God they supposedly worship is punishing them.” However, the prophet wishes to say that these onlookers were in the wrong, It may have appeared that God was actively “crushing” the Suffering Servant. But the reality was not the case. In the next verse, the dialogue shifts back over to the prophet speaking on behalf of Yahweh, correcting the “fake news” being spread by the ill-informed onlookers:

Out of the anguish of his soul he shall see and be satisfied;
by his knowledge shall the righteous one, my servant,
make many to be accounted righteous,
and he shall bear their iniquities. (Isaiah 53:11 ESV)

Here in verse 11, the suffering of the Suffering Servant will be vindicated. We can see how this theme resonates with the New Testament, as Jesus, who is called “my servant” in verse 11, will “make many to be accounted righteous” through Christ’s work on the cross where “he shall bear their iniquities.”

That word for “crush” shows up again earlier in Isaiah 53, which suggests that the onlookers had made an earlier comment, mocking Israel as the Suffering Servant. We can see this starting midway in verse 4 through the middle of verse 5:

(verse 4b) yet we esteemed him stricken,
smitten by God, and afflicted.
(verse 5) But he was pierced for our transgressions;
he was crushed for our iniquities (Isaiah 53:4b-5 ESV)

Not only were onlookers mocking the Suffering Servant as being “crushed” by God, the passage begins by the onlookers judging that the Suffering Servant had been “smitten by God, and afflicted.” In other words, the onlookers believed that God had forsaken and forgotten Israel, sending the people off into exile into Babylon.

Some scholars then suggest in verse 5 that the mention of “crushed” is actually the prophet’s way of mocking the onlookers as a rebuttal. In this reconstruction of the dialogue, the prophet’s response to the mocking of the onlookers begins in verse 5 and extends through verse 6:

(Verse 5) But he was pierced for our transgressions;
he was “crushed” for our iniquities;
upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace,
and with his wounds we are healed.
(Verse 6) All we like sheep have gone astray;
we have turned—every one—to his own way;
and the Lord has laid on him
the iniquity of us all (Isaiah 53:5-6 ESV, quotes added)

Putting the “crushed” in quotes indicates that the prophet is mocking the speech of the onlookers; thereby, Isaiah is mocking their mockery! Again, remember, the original Hebrew text has no quotation marks. We must rely on the context to figure out what is going on.

Instead, the prophet is saying that this chastisement of the Babylonian exile turns out not to be what the onlookers think it was. Instead of it being God judging the Suffering Servant as hopelessly lost and ultimately deserving of punishment, the suffering of Israel was meant to bring about healing. The vindication of Israel was now at hand, showing that God had not forgotten the Hebrew people.

Bringing this into the New Testament context about the work of Christ on the cross, we see how the “wounds” of Christ on the cross were meant for good, in that “we are healed.” Those who have “gone astray,” which would include “every one,” were now given the opportunity to have their sins taken away from them, which fits in perfectly with the New Testament idea that Christ died for our sins.

Scholars still debate as to the best way to reconstruct this dialogue between the onlookers and the prophet, considering the ambiguity of the original Hebrew, where we have no obvious signals to help us. Yet hopefully you can get the idea that a flat reading of Isaiah 53, as being 100 percent voiced by the prophet, without any voice from skeptical onlookers, simply does not work well in a coherent fashion. These short snippets of Isaiah 53 demonstrate that we need to be careful with how we read the Old Testament, before trying to figure out how this famous chapter of the Bible fits in with the New Testament.

What then do we do with the differences found in the Septuagint version of Isaiah 53? The differences are not trivial. The fact that the earliest Christians defaulted to the Septuagint, and not the Masoretic reading, raises a number of questions which need to be addressed. Granted, in a few cases the writers of the New Testament did prioritize the Hebrew over the Greek translation of an Old Testament passage, but not here in Isaiah 53. With only one exception (noted below), the Greek Septuagint translation of Isaiah 53 is consistently referenced throughout the entire New Testament.

Scholars of the Septuagint do wrestle with this, but one thing to consider is that the translators of the Septuagint probably understood well the difficulty of translating Isaiah 53.  How were these ancient translators to bring the Hebrew thought over into the Greek language, and still have it make sense to Greek speakers in the ancient world?

One proposition that I find convincing is that the Septuagint translators thought it to be too confusing to try to reconstruct a sophisticated Hebrew dialogue into a Greek text. Instead, they sought to preserve the meaning of original Hebrew by flattening out the whole dialogue. Instead, the translators make Isaiah 53 to sound like the singular speech of the prophet, thus making it easier to understand for the Greek reader.

 

Reconciling the Different Voices in Isaiah 53:  Masoretic vs. Septuagint Texts

At the risk of getting too lost in the weeds, compare what the Masoretic text version of Isaiah 53 says, versus below that, what the Septuagint version says. Focus on the highlighted portions. The Septuagint version is from the NKJV translation of the Old Testament found in the Orthodox Study Bible, used by Eastern Orthodox Christians. Let us start with the Hebrew version; that is, the Masoretic text.

Here is the Masoretic version:

(1) Who has believed what he has heard from us?
And to whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed?
(2) For he grew up before him like a young plant,
and like a root out of dry ground;
he had no form or majesty that we should look at him,
and no beauty that we should desire him.
(3) He was despised and rejected by men,
a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief;
and as one from whom men hide their faces
he was despised, and we esteemed him not.

(4) Surely he has borne our griefs
and carried our sorrows;
yet we esteemed him stricken,
smitten by God, and afflicted.
(5) But he was pierced for our transgressions;
he was crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace,
and with his wounds we are healed.
(6) All we like sheep have gone astray;
we have turned—every one—to his own way;
and the Lord has laid on him
the iniquity of us all.

(7) He was oppressed, and he was afflicted,
yet he opened not his mouth;
like a lamb that is led to the slaughter,
and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent,
so he opened not his mouth.
(8) By oppression and judgment he was taken away;
and as for his generation, who considered
that he was cut off out of the land of the living,
stricken for the transgression of my people?
(9) And they made his grave with the wicked
and with a rich man in his death,
although he had done no violence,
and there was no deceit in his mouth.

(10) Yet it was the will of the Lord to crush him;
he has put him to grief;
when his soul makes an offering for guilt,
he shall see his offspring; he shall prolong his days;
the will of the Lord shall prosper in his hand.
(11) Out of the anguish of his soul he shall see and be satisfied;
by his knowledge shall the righteous one, my servant,
make many to be accounted righteous,
and he shall bear their iniquities.
(12) Therefore I will divide him a portion with the many,
and he shall divide the spoil with the strong,
because he poured out his soul to death
and was numbered with the transgressors;
yet he bore the sin of many,
and makes intercession for the transgressors.

Notice how difficult it is to track where the dialogue transitions from one speaker to another. The pronouns themselves keep moving around so much, it can be terribly confusing to figure out what is really going on. Contrast that with the Septuagint version, translated into English, with the style of the NKJV.  Highlighted are the main differences you can find in the Septuagint versus the Masoretic version above:

(1) O Lord, who has believed our report,
and to whom was the arm of the Lord revealed?
(2) We proclaimed His presence as a Child,
as a Root in a thirsty land.
He had no form or glory, and we saw Him;
and He had no form or beauty.
(3) But in comparison to all men, His form was lacking in honor.
He was a man in suffering and knew how to bear sickness.
His face was turned away,
and He was dishonored and not esteemed.

(4) He bears our sins and suffers for us,
yet we considered Him to be in pain, suffering, and ill-treatment.
(5) But He was wounded because of our lawlessness,
and became sick because of our sins.
The chastisement of our peace was upon Him,
and by His bruise we are healed.
(6) All we like sheep have gone astray.
Man has gone astray in his way,
and the Lord delivered Him over for our sins.

(7) Although He was ill-treated,
He opened not His mouth.
He was led as a sheep to the slaughter,
and as a lamb is silent before his shearers, so He opens not His mouth.
(8) In His humiliation His judgment was taken away,
and who will declare His generation?
For His life is taken from the earth,
and because of the lawlessness of My people He was led to death.
(9) I will appoint evil men for His burial
and rich men for His death,
because He committed no lawlessness,
nor was deceit found in His mouth.

(10) The Lord wishes to cleanse Him of His wound,
and if You give an offering for sin,
Your soul shall see a long-lived seed.
(11) The Lord wishes to take away the pain of His soul,
to show Him light, to form Him with understanding,
and to pronounce righteous the Righteous One who serves many well;
and He shall bear their sins.
(12) Therefore He shall inherit many,
and will divide the spoil with the strong,
because His soul was delivered over to death.
He was considered among the lawless,
and He bore the sins of many,
and was delivered over because of their sins.

Notice how the Septuagint changes the meaning of what the onlookers say to reflect what the prophet Isaiah wishes us to understand. By doing this, the Septuagint translators are preserving the meaning of the entire passage, to fit within the singular speech of the prophet, assisting the reader by simplifying the text for the sake of a better understanding.

Making Sense of These Different Voices

Take one more look at verse 5: Some scholars look at verse 5, in the Masoretic text, and see that the first half of the verse ends with “he was crushed for our iniquities,” referring to the mocking perspective of the onlookers, which is then followed by the response of God through the voice of the prophet: “upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his wounds we are healed,” which serves as a rebuke to the cynical onlookers.

Yet in the Septuagint version of verse 5, we read: ”

But He was wounded because of our lawlessness,
and became sick because of our sins.
The chastisement of our peace was upon Him,
and by His bruise we are healed.

Again, with the Septuagint, we see a big shift.  The Masoretic has that the Suffering Servant was “crushed for our iniquities” whereas the Septuagint has that he became “sick because of our sins.”

To be “crushed” and to be “sick” convey different senses of meaning.  With the Masoretic version, there is the sense of receiving punishment from God, due to our sins. Yet the latter, as with the Septuagint translation, takes the edge off of the Suffering Servant’s plight to that of being “sick,” which lacks that sense of direct punishment from God. To say that our sins made the Suffering Servant “sick” is quite a different message from being “crushed” by God due to our sins.

The New Testament explicitly quotes from Isaiah 53 seven times, and alludes to Isaiah 53 approximately 34 more times. The late British evangelist/scholar John R. W. Stott cites an older scholar, Joachim Jeremias as saying: “No other passage from the Old Testament, was as important to the church as Isaiah 53” (Stott, John, The Cross of Christ, IVP:1986, p.145)

It bears noting that we have no New Testament author, except in one instance, who follows any reading of Isaiah 53 from the Masoretic version. Aside from this one instance, every reading of Isaiah 53 in the New Testament recalls the Septuagint version.

That one exception is Matthew 8:17:

This was to fulfill what was spoken by the prophet Isaiah: “He took our illnesses and bore our diseases.”

This is where Matthew records Jesus as healing a number of sick people who were brought to him (Matthew 8:16), where Matthew cites the Masoretic text of Isaiah 53:4. That same Isaiah 53:4 passage in the Septuagint reads: “He bears our sins and suffers for us.”

Yet notice the context for Matthew here, which is not the same as the crucifixion of Jesus. This is a reference to Jesus healing, as opposed to bearing any type of punishment often associated with the cross.

At best, one might conclude that the Septuagint translators still preserve both voices, namely that of the onlookers and the prophet, but that in their translation the onlookers are no longer mocking the Suffering Servant. Instead, they have now repented of their mockery and have aligned their thoughts with that of the prophet.

Look at verse 4b, first from the Masoretic:

yet we esteemed him stricken,
smitten by God, and afflicted.

Now from the Septuagint:

yet we considered Him to be in pain, suffering, and ill-treatment.

In the Masoretic version, the onlookers accused God of afflicting judgment upon the Suffering Servant. In contrast, the Septuagint leaves God out of it, simply acknowledging plight of the Suffering Servant.  If in the Septuagint, both voices are preserved, then the “we” moves from representing the mocking onlookers, to the “we” of the onlookers now in the state of repentance, for now they no longer accuse God of rejecting the Suffering Servant as being deserving of such a terrible plight.

However, if in the Septuagint, only one voice is preserved, namely that of the prophet, the “we” in the Masoretic is still that of mocking onlookers, but the “we” in the Septuagint is now the prophet and Yahweh; that is, God, whom the prophet is representing. While the exact state of the voice or voices is not completely clear in the Septuagint of Isaiah 53, the messaging in the Septuagint is more streamlined and consistent: God did not punish the Suffering Servant, but rather the Suffering Servant was punished by the enemies of God. In the end, the Suffering Servant will be vindicated, thereby silencing the mocking onlookers; that is,

Kings shall shut their mouths because of him

explicitly made clear in the chapter prior to Isaiah 53 (Isaiah 52:15).

I can concede that coming up with an exact reconstruction as to what the Greek translators of the Septuagint were trying to do is not easy. But we need not conclude with a pessimistic cynicism. Critics today on either side of the translation question may conclude that the Masoretic and Septuagint versions are in hopeless contradiction with one another. But when seen in the context of trying to parse through the debate of where and when the speaker changes in this passage, the contradiction evaporates.

Some even say that the Septuagint translators were rather sloppy, making them prone to mistakes, when actually, they were highly skilled in what they were doing. Others may say that the Jews of the early Masoretic textual tradition deliberately changed; that is, corrupted, Old Testament passages, such as the text of Isaiah 53, in order to rule out the Christian reading favored by the Greek readers of the Hebrew Bible, despite the fact that we have no evidence these early Masoretic Jews did such a thing. Neither of these cynical judgments about the difficulties of Isaiah 53 have any weight when considered in the light of this proposition, which I find convincing, even if some of the more specific details about where, when, and who are left unresolved.

Another Way to Sing “Jesus, Thank You”

Unfortunately, a lot of Christians, both lay persons and scholars alike, miss this careful and nuanced understanding of how Isaiah 53 works in terms of its literary flow and construction. This explains why we have worship songs like Pat Szcebel’s “Jesus, Thank You,” which leave us with lines like:

You the perfect Holy One, crushed Your Son
Who drank the bitter cup reserved for me

Can you work it out to make these lines fit together with what is really going on in Isaiah 53 as you sing it? Yes, you can. But it does take some reflective and deep dive bible study to flesh out what is happening in the text of Scripture.

In fairness, verse 2 of “Jesus, Thank You,” is much less problematic than the first verse. This verse rehearses the theme of Jesus, the Son of God, as the Suffering Servant, and it ties in well with a more robust theology of what happened on the Cross at Calvary.

By Your perfect sacrifice I’ve been brought near
Your enemy You’ve made Your friend
Pouring out the riches of Your glorious grace
Your mercy and Your kindness know no end

We, who were once enemies due to our sin, have been made friends of God, by Jesus’ sacrificial act upon the Cross. Because of the corruption of sin in the human heart, it is quite normal to think of ourselves as “enemies” of God. Like the onlookers of the surrounding Gentile nations who mocked the Jewish people and their God, it was at first understandable that the people who were marched off from Jerusalem to Babylon during the Exile had become “enemies” of Yahweh, their God.  The destruction of Solomon’s Temple and the fall of Jerusalem would have signaled to those Gentile nations that something had gone terribly wrong with these Hebrew people, and their God.

But Isaiah was given a prophetic understanding which undid all of that mockery. These despised and afflicted people would soon find restoration. They would be able to leave Babylon and go back and rebuild their holy city with its Temple. They would no longer be regarded as “enemies” of God, but rather as “friends.”

Isaiah turned out be right. The refugees who were marched off to go to Babylon were vindicated. The stories in Ezra and Nehemiah show that God had indeed orchestrated events such that the people did return to the land, rebuilding their Temple.

But the story is not simply about the Babylonian Exile and the restoration of the Jewish homeland.  For one thing, a lot of Jews during the Second Temple period did not feel like they had fully returned from Exile. Living under Roman rule did feel like the full restoration Isaiah had promised.

However, this was God’s plan all along, to give the Jews who heard Jesus’ preaching a hunger and a hope for an even greater Restoration.  What Isaiah had prophesied prefigured an even greater story which has changed all of human history:  the coming of the Messiah, Jesus, as the Suffering Servant, who would take away the sins of the whole world.

Typologically speaking, if you substitute in for the exiled Jewish people the peoples of all of the world, both Jew and Gentile, a picture of the Gospel emerges. Those who once appeared to be estranged from God, resulting from their sin, have now been brought back to God as friends, reconciled to God through the work of the new Suffering Servant, Jesus the Messiah.

Now, that is a song I can sing whole-heartedly!!

Just a word of warning: Trying to spell out all of how the mechanics work can get us into trouble. The big picture is what ultimately matters. It is sufficient to celebrate this as a glorious mystery.

 

Challenges to Reading Isaiah 53 as a Shifting Dialogue

Some might still not be convinced: The drawback to my position, in accepting the proposition of a dialogue in the Masoretic text between the mocking onlookers and the prophet speaking on behalf of God, is that there is no consensus view among scholars as to the exact places where and how the dialogue transitions from one speaker to another.

But we find some early church fathers adopting, to some measure, a variation of a type of dialogue taking place in Isaiah 53, even if that dialogue does not match up directly with the position I am advocating for. For example, early church teachers, such as Origen and Eusebius of Caesarea, picked up on the concept of shifting voices in Isaiah 53, without clearly identifying the perspectives of these various voices.

Since there were Christians in the early days of the Christian movement, who were trying to figure out how the Hebrew and Greek versions of Psalm 53 fit together, then the proposal which I am offering here is hardly “new.”

The other views, which suppose that either words have changed their meaning over time somehow, or that the language of “to crush” is more figurative in Isaiah 53, or that Isaiah 53 is concerned about God’s ultimate sovereignty as opposed to naming intermediate causes, are still possible but they are more speculative. Furthermore, because these other views do not consider the complexities of the Septuagint, they come across as more innovative across the long history of Christian thinking. Plus, these other views invite more skepticism among critics who are offended by the language of God “crushing” anyone. Why would God “crush” anyone he truly loves?

I have read where many fine evangelical scholars get fooled by the idea that God actively “crushed” Jesus, as in God punishing Jesus, simply because they have never grasped the plausibility of the “dialogue” view which I find convincing. These scholars may think that God the Father “crushed” Jesus, who was and is God’s Son, in the negative sense of God the Father unleashing the full extent of his anger against the innocent, kind, and more merciful Son.

In doing so, such scholars may conclude that God was somehow “punishing” Jesus, or that God “killed” Jesus. In a sense, Jesus as the passive Son of God was simply in the position of being a human “punching bag” which the Father could vent out all of his anger on, as opposed to punishing us truly sinful humans.

However, appearances can be deceiving, as the onlookers soon realized, according to Isaiah. For to conclude with such a negative reading of a God who “crushed [His] Son,” this can lead Christians into a theological quagmire, implying that God the Father and God the Son were somehow at odds with one another, acting with cross-purposes (forgive the pun!) at the Cross of Jesus. If someone comes to that conclusion, this effectively divides the persons of the Godhead from one another, severing the unity of God found in the orthodox doctrine of the Trinity. Yet the doctrine of the Trinity was articulated so beautifully and well at the Council of Nicaea, and it remains the standard for historic orthodox Christianity.

To attack the integrity of the Trinity is not a good idea…. and not a very appealing view of God’s character either.

Instead, what appears to be the act of God “crushing” the Son gets turned around. Our sin which crushes us gets crushed, and we get reconciled to God in the process.

Now, that kind of twist to the story is pretty cool!! What an awesome God we find in Jesus!!

(See my Veracity review of John R.W. Stott’s marvelous The Cross of Christ to get a better handle on this)

 

A Better Way to Read Isaiah 53, Understand the Meaning of Christ’s Death, and How the Early Church Read the Bible

For me, making the best sense of Isaiah 53:10, and how the New Testament writers saw Isaiah 53 as one of key Old Testament texts to unlock the meaning of Christ’s death for our sins, is to say something like this: God, the Father, in his sovereignty, according to his divine will, has always wanted the human creatures he created to be reconciled to him, and brought into fellowship with God. To do so, God had to deal with the problem of sin, to cleanse us from our sin, and therefore he was “pleased” that such a way could be found to do that through the sacrificial death of God the Son. Furthermore, the intentions of God the Son were in perfect harmony with the intentions of the Father.

The mocking onlookers claimed that Yahweh had “crushed” the Suffering Servant, implying typologically that God the Father “crushed” Jesus. But this perspective is wrong. Far from indicating that the mission of Jesus was a failure, as evidenced by the death of Christ on the cross, the crucifixion followed by the resurrection demonstrated that Jesus had victoriously conquered sin, death, evil, and the devil, in one fell swoop.

At first glance, it would appear that the Father was “crushing” the Son. But there is more to the story. Instead, God was effectively “cleansing” us from our sins, through the death of Jesus on the cross. The Father took no pleasure in seeing that the Son was crushed, in and of itself, but rather, was pleased instead with the outcome which resulted; that is, that sins would be forgiven and humanity reconciled to God, for all those who would cling to the Son. It was in this that God was satisfied: those who would believe in this Messiah would be reconciled to God, instead of receiving the just punishment they would have otherwise deserved..

God’s satisfaction in securing our salvation through Jesus’ death on the cross has been guaranteed. Satisfaction guaranteed.

There you have it. A line from a popular worship song leads us to grapple with how the earliest Christians incorporated the Greek translation of the Old Testament into their thinking, as they thought through the meaning of the death of Christ. Granted, this is all a little messy. But once you see what is really going on in Isaiah 53, it becomes difficult to un-see it. This is what can make a deep dive into the study of Scripture so fascinating and rewarding.

I would love to read about your thoughts here in the comments.

 

 


Did the Father Turn His Face Away From Jesus on the Cross?

How much do we really think about the songs we sing in church?

There is a popular Christian worship song which I have sung for years, which I admittedly have not thought too much about until recently. Written by Stuart Townend about 30 years ago, “How Deep the Father’s Love for Us” begins with this verse:

How deep the Father’s love for us,
How vast beyond all measure,
That He should give His only Son
To make a wretch His treasure.
How great the pain of searing loss –
The Father turns His face away,
As wounds which mar the Chosen One
Bring many sons to glory.

There is one line in that verse which really puzzles me now: “The Father turns His face away.” What is that all about?

As I first started to think about it, I mused that it might mean that the Father was so filled with grief about his Son dying on the cross that he could not bear to look upon the sight of seeing Jesus suffer like that.  The line before it gives me a clue: “How great the pain of searing loss.”

Perhaps that is what Stuart Townend had in mind.

I am quite fine with interpreting this line in the song this way. When my mother was nearing her death about 11 years ago, extended family members of mine, who loved my mother very much, would not come to visit my mom once she was nearing being put on hospice. One cousin told me that she could not bear to see my mother suffer in her final days, as the cancer of glioblastoma slowly took away her humanity day-after-day, as she was loaded up with morphine.

My mom still recognized me up until the last day or two before she died, but during those last few weeks, she hardly knew who anyone else was. My mom was always the gracious “Southern lady,” offering hospitality to everyone she met. But the cancer had robbed that zest for life, and the morphine had dulled her senses. That was tough for members of my extended family who knew my mom for years, so I get it.

But is this what it really means to say that “The Father turns His face away?”

 

 

 

The “Father Can Not Look Upon Sin, So the Father Turns His Face Away from Jesus” Logic

There is another, more common explanation as to why the line “The Father turns His face away” is in Townsend’s song. Taken at face value, this other explanation seems straight-forward. Yet frankly, this explanation should trouble us, as it can give us a wrong understanding of God’s character.  There is more to it as one dives more deeply into the Bible.

In this view, “The Father turns His face away” is in reference to Jesus’ cry of dereliction on the cross:

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Mark 15:34; Matt 27:46).

Admittedly, once you read that, it may seem quite obvious. Jesus, as God’s Son, feels abandoned by the Father. After all, as an expression of Jesus’ humanity, it is quite natural for any human to have a sense of desperation at such a moment.

But what does this say about the perspective of the Father? This is where a common theological assumption has stirred up significant debate:  So why does Jesus feel abandoned?

Explanation: Because the sin of the whole world is laid upon Jesus, and God the Father can not look upon sin. So, God the Father turns his face away from Jesus.

This makes sense. Right?

Not so fast.

Well, there is more going here than what meets the eye. This passage of the Bible has been controversial for centuries. Yet it all comes down to how the Gospel writers use the Old Testament, particularly Psalm 22, to reveal the truth about the heart of God.

Jesus’ cry of dereliction has puzzled lay readers of the Bible and scholars alike. At the beginning of the 20th century, the German biblical scholar Albert Schweitzer would broadly take Jesus’ cry of dereliction on the cross as a sign that the mission of Jesus had failed. Jesus had predicted that God the Father would intervene before Jesus’ death by bringing about the end of the world, pronouncing judgment on Israel for Jewish disobedience and bringing calamity on the Roman empire. Instead, Jesus was left alone to die on the cross.

Albert Schweitzer, one of the 20th century’s most influential liberal Christians, was struck by this. Schweitzer took this to mean that Jesus was a failed apocalyptic prophet, who only realized at the very end of his life that the promised cataclysmic end of the world would not come, and that God the Father had abandoned him. Alas, though Schweitzer was a great biblical scholar, even he misunderstood the significance of Psalm 22 for understanding this cry of dereliction.

Perhaps a better explanation is a simpler one. The Gospel writers want to point our attention to Psalm 22, which is where this line comes from. Not only that, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me,” is the first verse of Psalm 22. The idea of numbering the psalms only began once the Hebrew Bible was translated into Greek, roughly about the time of Christ and a few centuries prior to that. It is not clear as to when the psalm numbering actually caught on across the Second Temple Judaism audience of Jesus’ day. So until the idea of a “Psalm 22” actually caught on, you typically referenced a particular psalm by citing the first line of that psalm.

Pretty simple.

But that is just the beginning as to why this idea — namely, of the Father turning his face away from the Son bearing the load of sin on the cross, because the Father can not look upon sin, — can be terribly misleading.

New Testament scholar Jason Staples has a great blog post on his Substack, which explains what is really going on with how Psalm 22 ties into the crucifixion narrative, so I will just summarize his research here. Psalm 22 is attributed to King David, written hundreds of years before Jesus roamed about Israel, about someone who undergoes great affliction. A careful read through Psalm 22 reveals a number of parallels we find in the Gospels:

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
    Why are you so far from saving me, from the words of my groaning?
O my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer,
    and by night, but I find no rest (Psalm 22:1-2; the first verse clearly quoted in Mark 15:34 and Matthew 27:46).

All who see me mock me;
    they make mouths at me; they wag their heads (Psalm 22:7; alluded to in Matthew 27:39 and Mark 15:29).

My strength is dried up like a potsherd,
    and my tongue sticks to my jaws;
    you lay me in the dust of death (Psalm 22:15; alluded to in John 19:28, when Jesus says, “I thirst“).

They divide my garments among them,
    and for my clothing they cast lots (Psalm 22:18; alluded to in (John 19:23–24; Matthew 27:35; Mark 15:24; Luke 23:34).

All the ends of the earth shall remember
    and turn to the Lord,
and all the families of the nations
    shall worship before you (Psalm 22:27; does this not remind you of the Great Commission, Matthew 28:18-20?).

But when you read Mark’s version of the Gospel, it stands out more clearly as to what is going on with the references to Psalm 22. In Mark’s Gospel, the disciples of Jesus are typically portrayed as being relatively clueless regarding what Jesus is all about.

Here is a sample of verses, which according to Jason Staples, shows just how clueless  the disciples were:

Jesus: “Beware the leaven of the Pharisees.”
Disciples: “And they began to discuss with one another that they had no bread.” (Mark 8:15–16)

Jesus: “The son of man is handed over to men, and they will kill him, and when he has been killed, he will rise three days later.”
Disciples: “But they did not understand this saying, and they were afraid to ask him.” They then proceeded to argue about which of them was the greatest. (Mark 9:31–34)

James and John: “Grant that we may sit, one on your right and one on your left, in your glory.”
Jesus: “You do not know what you are asking. Are you able to drink the cup that I drink?”
James and John: “We are able.”
Jesus: “You will drink the cup that I drink … but to sit on my right or on my left is not mine to give but is for those for whom it has been prepared.”

The Gospel of Mark is filled with irony, so much that it is quite evident that while the disciples seem really clueless as to who Jesus really was, the reader instead is clued into understanding Jesus’ true identity as God’s Son, whose mission included dying for our sins.

But here is where the irony of Mark’s Gospel shines most clearly. Whereas Stuart Townsend’s song suggests that the “The Father turns His face away,” a look at Psalm 22 indicates just the exact opposite.

Did you catch that?

Psalm 22 shows that this common idea of the Father turning away from looking upon Jesus, because the Father can not look upon sin, is misleading. In fact, it means the very opposite.

Right after the psalmist writes about the garments being divided and those who were casting lots for the afflicted one’s clothing in verse 18, in verse 19 the afflicted one offers a prayer in response to all that is happening to him:

But you, O Lord, do not be far off!
    O you my help, come quickly to my aid!

Then later we read this, arriving at the “punch line”:

I will tell of your name to my brothers;
    in the midst of the congregation I will praise you:
You who fear the Lord, praise him!
    All you offspring of Jacob, glorify him,
    and stand in awe of him, all you offspring of Israel!
For he has not despised or abhorred
    the affliction of the afflicted,
and he has not hidden his face from him,
    but has heard, when he cried to him (Psalm 22:22-24)

That next to the last line in verse 24 should startle the reader: God “has not hidden his face from” the one who is afflicted.

Wait a minute… I thought…. Huh???…..

This line is shocking.

In contrast with the claim that “The Father turns His face away,” Psalm 22 indicates that just the opposite is true. God the Father has not turned his face away from Jesus.

In Jesus’ affliction, God the Father has not turned away from the Son. Rather, the Father looks upon the Son with love, mercy, and compassion. Instead of rejecting the Son, the Father extends the tenderness of the divine towards Jesus. The desperation of Jesus, as one who was fully divine and fully human, upon the cross is quite real, but the reason why Jesus experiences such desperation can be easily misunderstood.

To think that the cry of dereliction uttered by Jesus on the cross shows that God’s hatred of us as sinners has been transferred to Jesus, by Jesus taking our sin upon himself, such that God now hates Jesus, is to read something into the text that is not there. It completely misses the irony that the Gospel of Mark is trying to show us, in that while it might appear that the Father has forsaken the Son, just the opposite has taken place.

God hates our sin. God does not hate us. God loves us. God hates that our sin has gotten in the way, and so God has found a way through Jesus to deal with sin, so that we might be reconciled to God.

If there was any doubt as to the significance of Psalm 22, the psalm itself ends in verse 31:

they shall come and proclaim his righteousness to a people yet unborn,
    that he has done it.

Is it merely a coincidence that John 19:30 records the last words of Jesus as “It is finished?”

Hardly.

Rather, the lesson for us, for those of us who are believers, who identify with the work of Christ on the cross, as the perfect expression of God’s love for us, is that we can remain confident that God the Father has not turned his face away from us. God has not allowed his legitimate anger towards our sin to keep him from showering us with his grace. God’s hatred is towards our sin, and not towards us. We may indeed abandon God at times (because our sin), and there are surely times where we might feel abandoned by God (when we have been sinned against).  However, the Gospel story announces this: God has not and will never abandon us.

God turns away from our sin, as our sin turns us away from God. But God never turns away from us.

This is truly Good News!! Is it not??


Why Should the Death of Someone 2,000 Years Ago Matter to Me Today? (The Atonement, by Jeremy Treat. A Brief Review)

The question stopped me in my tracks….

Back when I was a college student, I worked as an usher at a movie theater over the summer break. It was a hot, muggy July night, as I recall. Business was slow.  A friend of mine walked in and we started chatting.

My friend had grown up in church, but he blurted out this question which has stuck with me all these years later:

Clarke, why should the death of someone 2,000 years ago matter to me today?

I had been an active follower of Christ for several years at that time, but I was stunned by the question. As Christians, we often take for granted the thought that “Jesus died for our sins” as being vitally important, and evidently self-explanatory. But as the conversation continued I realized that I really did not have a very good answer to give.

The death of a wandering Jewish preacher in the Middle East back in the first century seems so remote and unconnected from my life as an American nearly 2,000 years later. Those worlds appear to be so far apart, particularly in our day when Artificial Intelligence is transforming our world, persistent mental health issues plague so many people, families in the midst of crisis try to make ends meet, and media reports of never ending wars all over the globe numb us. What made it even more bothersome was that this friend of mine had grown up going to church all of his life, and he did not know a good answer either.

So, does the death of Jesus, many, many years ago, in a distant culture, really matter? If so, how?

Jeremy Treat’s The Atonement: An Introduction is a concise, accessible theological examination of what the death of Christ means, for the forgiveness of sins. A perfect book for anyone, lay person or scholar, who needs a good explanation for why the death of a Jewish carpenter some 2,000 years ago is relevant to you and me today.

 

At moments like these, I wish I had a book like Jeremy Treat’s The Atonement: An Introduction available to hand to someone. At first, Treat’s book might seem daunting, as it is part of Crossway’s “Short Studies in Systematic Theology.” But it really is not. The book is short and accessible, less than 200 pages. I read it as an audiobook in about 4 hours. It is perfect for college students, pastors, and other lay people alike.

The topic of Jeremy Treat’s book, The Atonement, is one that sparks a lot of conversation. The early church never came up with a formal statement as to the particular meaning of Christ’s death on the cross. The Nicene-Constantinople Creed, the great ecumenical creed of the early church, is pretty brief on the subject:

….For us humans and for our salvation he came down from heaven, and was incarnate… ….For our sake he was crucified under Pontius Pilate, he suffered death and was buried….,

….I confess one Baptism for the forgiveness of sins…

As far as exactly how those ideas like the crucifixion, heaven, and the forgiveness of sins are exactly connected together, nothing is explained. But the mystery has inspired many pages of theology to be written over the centuries, with competing theories articulated to try to figure this all out.

Over the next few months, here on Veracity, I hope to bring out some of this theological discussion, interacting with a number of Scriptural texts and a few books which have attempted to make sense of one of the most intriguing questions anyone could ever think about.

But for now, I would like to start with Jeremy Treat’s excellent introduction to the topic. How would you answer the question?

Why should the death of Jesus some 2,000 years ago matter to someone today?

Jeremy Treat is a pastor for preaching at a church in California, and an adjunct professor of theology at Biola University. I am sure Treat runs into questions like this all of the time with his students.

The answer Jeremy Treat gives is reasonably thorough without being overwhelming. It is not overly technical, but it is theologically rich. Here is Jeremy Treat’s main idea: the death of Christ is the central act of God’s work to accomplish salvation for all of humanity, part of what Christians call the doctrine of atonement.

William Tyndale, who interestingly published the first mechanically printed New Testament into English, exactly 500 years ago from this present year (2026), coined the English word “atonement” to translate a difficult Hebrew word from the Old Testament. Tyndale’s idea of “atonement” comes from piecing together a phrase “at-one-ment.” Essentially, Jesus’ death on the cross 2,000 years sought to reconcile humanity to God, making us “at-one” with God.

Christians all believe that “Jesus died for our sins,” but unpacking that simple statement is really not that simple. For Jeremy Treat, the death of Christ is God’s multi-dimensional work done by God, as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, within the story of the Kingdom of God being revealed to the world.

The concept of substitution is at the heart of the cross, as substitution holds all of these various dimensions together, which theologians debate about. The cross is about forgiveness. The cross is also about victory over sin, death, and evil. The cross is also about renewal. The cross reconciles us not only to God but to each other as well. Substitution connects all of these themes together. As to substitution, this is all about Jesus dying in our place for our sins. As Treat puts it:

Our society is aching for atonement. How can we deal with our guilt and shame? How can we be set free from our past? How can all that is wrong be made right? The assumption in these questions is that we can atone for our sins. But the message of Christianity is not about what we ought to do for God but what God has done for us. The good news is that God has sent his Son, empowered by the Spirit, to atone for our sins and make right all that our sin has made wrong. And the gospel goes far beyond merely “making amends” (which is how the word “atonement” is often used today). Through the sacrificial death of Christ, forgiveness, freedom, healing, and restoration are available not only for broken people but for all of creation. This is good news” (Treat, The Atonement, p. 14)

 

One of the most memorably moments in world history.  But what does it mean for people living in the 21st century?

 

Critics of Christianity might want us to think that atonement is some kind of antiquated and even barbaric notion, but everyday life and even the big issues of our day would suggest otherwise. Everytime I have mistakenly cut someone off in traffic while driving, raised my voice with my wife, or loaned something out to a friend and they never pay me back, I fall back on the language of atonement, and you probably do, too. When bombs are inadvertently dropped on schools filled with elementary aged children, when millions of pounds of discarded plastics in our garbage threaten sea life in our oceans, earthquakes shake shoddily built high-story apartment buildings to the ground, along with thousands with them, and mass shooters kill innocent bystanders, we process concepts of atonement in our minds, whether we are aware of it or not.

Jeremy Treat offers a theological framework for dealing with all of this stuff. Treat’s primary dialogue partners in thinking through atonement are the 4th century North African church father, Athanasius, the 19th century Dutch theologian, Herman Bavinck, and the 20th century British pastor-theologian, John R. W. Stott. Having cut my teeth in thinking about the atonement from John Stott’s masterful work, The Cross of Christ, I resonated with Treat throughout this excellent work of deep yet accessible theology. Even better, Treat takes the same framework Stott was known for and distills it down into a concise work that can be read over a couple of afternoons, making a rich theology accessible to a new generation.

There are quite a number of theories out there that try to make sense of the atoning work of Christ; such as, penal substitution, moral influence, and “Christus Victor”. Jeremy Treat does not go into any rigorous analysis of the virtues and vices of each theory as compared to the others. He prefers to think in terms of “dimensions” of atonement as opposed to “theories.” Treat is thankfully allergic to an over-simplified reductionism, while also rejecting a cafeteria approach whereby we can merely pick and choose from different dimensions which we may like or dislike. Instead, Treat sees value in the many dimensions of atonement, and how they effectively integrate together. He offers concise definitions of twenty of these various dimensions, including propitiation, healing, and adoption. I would consider Treat’s view of atonement as a kaleidoscope approach, whereby looking through the prism at different angles, you can see different dimensions which color a rich and practical theology, a most helpful way of thinking about the meaning of the cross of Christ.

For example, in his chapter on the “Coherence of Atonement,” Treat comments on Romans 3:23-25:

Paul uses three different metaphors from three different realms of society to explain the meaning of Christ’s death. But again, he is not saying the same thing in three different ways. He is drawing from different conceptual worlds to explain different, yet mutually enriching dimensions of what Christ accomplished. ‘For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God and are justified (law-court), by his grace as a gift, through the redemption (marketplace) that is in Christ Jesus, whom God put forward as a propitiation (temple) by his blood to be received by faith’.

Treat also considers unhelpful ways to think about atonement. For example, some preachers use the analogy of a train speeding down a train track, where a group of children are playing, and if not stopped the train will probably hit and kill the children. But there is a rail switch between the moving train and the children, which if triggered, can send the train down a different track and spare the lives of the children. A rail switch operator has the opportunity to flip the switch and save the day. However, standing on that other train track is the son of the rail switch operator, playing by himself. The father makes a split second decision, flipping the switch, whereby the train almost instantly kills his son, but spare the lives of the other children.

While the analogy does articulate the concept of substitution, whereby the son stands in the place of the other children, giving up his life to die in order to spare the life of the others, the analogy unhelpfully distorts the Christian view of atonement. For one thing, the fate of the son is not tied together with the fate of the father, whereas in a biblical view of the atonement, the Father and the Son, through the Holy Spirit, work in concert together to save humanity. Furthermore, the analogy stresses a kind of utilitarian solution to an ethical dilemma; that is, a sacrifice of the one for the many, and ignores God’s purpose to have a family by seeking reconciliation among a people divided against one another and alienated from their Creator.

Some Christians, when thinking about Isaiah 53, a key text for atonement theology, appear to have no problem thinking that it is somehow okay for God the Father to “crush” the Son, thereby putting God the Father and God the Son somehow in conflict with one another. Thankfully, Jeremy Treat is careful enough to say that while the Suffering Servant; that is, the Son, was indeed “crushed” in Isaiah 53:10, Treat does not say that it was “God” who “crushed” the Suffering Servant. It might appear at first glance that God did crush the Suffering Servant, but a closer look tells a far more compelling story (something to be explained further in a future blog post). Wrath is not a distinct attribute of God, but rather it is a consequence of God’s love and holiness, in response to human sin.

Some preachers make use of a famous ethical dilemma in moral philosophy, the so-called “Trolley Problem,” as a way of describing God’s reasoning for the atoning work of Christ on the cross. Jeremy Treat believes this to be a faulty illustration to use in trying to explain the meaning of Christ’s death.

 

Treat’s book on The Atonement is not meant to be exhaustive. It is but an introduction, after all. So, if you are looking for an exegetically rigorous text which sorts out all of the nuances of the debates about particular bible passages regarding atonement, then The Atonement: An Introduction is not the book you will want to read. Or, if you want to parse through all of the philosophical controversies surrounding atonement theology, you would be better looking off elsewhere. But if you want an easy to read, broad yet modestly brief look at the question as to why the death of someone 2,000 years ago might matter to you, then Jeremy Treat’s The Atonement: An Introduction is the perfect book. I came away from the book strengthened in my faith.

So, I return back to the starting question: Does the death of Jesus some 2,000 years ago matter to me today, and if so, how?

I left work that hot summer night, working through my mind as to how to answer my friend’s question. I stayed up into the wee hours of the morning, reading my Bible, still puzzled. If only I had a copy of Jeremy Treat’s The Atonement: An Introduction available to me back then, I probably would have slept better that night.

Over the next few months, stick around the Veracity blog if you want to explore with me more about this all important question.


Did God Kill Jesus? The Cross of Christ, by John R. W. Stott, A Review

All Christians believe that Jesus died for our sins. But what exactly does that mean? Christians disagree as to how Jesus died for our sin. Getting our theology right about the meaning of the cross tells us a lot about how we view the Gospel.

I first read John R. W. Stott’s The Cross of Christ some thirty years ago. Stott, one of the most respected evangelical leaders of the late 20th century, died fifteen years ago in 2010, having been one of the U.K.’s finest and most influential preachers. Stott teamed up to support evangelist Billy Graham for crusades across the United Kingdom in the 1950s, to pioneer the Lausanne movement which championed world missions. But Stott was also a prolific author, and in my view, The Cross of Christ stands as his finest book, giving us a mature, robust understanding of what it means to say that “Jesus died for our sins,” defending in irenic fashion the doctrine of penal substitutionary atonement against various critics.

The Cross of Christ has a message that is needed today. There are very good reasons why The Cross of Christ is a classic, and why Christians should continue to read it.

 

John R. W. Stott’s The Cross of Christ remains a classic defense of an evangelical view of the atoning work of Christ on the cross, offering a nuanced perspective on penal substitutionary atonement theory.

 

The Controversy Over Penal Substitutionary Atonement

The idea of “penal substitutionary atonement” is controversial today, even in evangelical circles. Google’s AI engine tells us that penal substitutionary atonement, abbreviated here as “PSA,”  is a “theological concept explaining Jesus Christ’s death on the cross as a substitutionary punishment for humanity’s sins. It posits that Christ bore the penalty (punishment) that humanity deserved for sin, satisfying God’s justice and allowing for forgiveness and reconciliation.” To talk about “penal substitutionary atonement” (PSA) is a mouthful, and as result, can be a bit confusing to figure out.

For example, Missouri pastor Brian Zahnd acknowledges the atonement work of Christ on the cross, but he rejects the concept of “penal substitution.”  Jesus died for our sins, but not in a PSA way. Zahnd believes that the concept of “penal substitution” makes God into a monster, a monster who would kill even his own Son:

Elsewhere, Zahnd has written:

“Some theories [of atonement] are merely inadequate, while others are repellent. Especially odious are those theories that ultimately portray God as sharing the petty attributes of the primitive and pagan deities who can only be placated by the barbarism of child sacrifice….. The cross is many things, but it is not a quid pro quo to mollify an angry God….

…. The cross is not a picture of payment — the cross is a picture of forgiveness. Good Friday is not about divine wrath — Good Friday is about divine love. Calvary is not where we see how violent God is — Calvary is where we see how violent our civilization is. The cross is not where God finds a whipping boy to vent his rage upon — the cross is where God saves the world through self-sacrificing love…

…. When the cross is viewed through the theological lens of punishment, God is seen as an inherently violent being who can only be appeased by a violent ritual sacrifice.”

Is PSA about finding a “whipping boy” to vent God’s rage upon? Zahnd rejects the penal language about atonement, such as  “the theological lens of punishment,” and the language of substitution does not fare much better. If all you heard or read about PSA was from Brian Zahnd, you might think that he is right, and that PSA is not a good way to think about the cross of Christ.

 

Christians Singing About Penal Substitutionary Atonement

And yet, Christians sing about it all the time. All of the buzzwords which Zahnd finds as “odious” are embedded in dozens of worship songs sung nearly every week in evangelical churches.

Consider the “wrath” of God in Stuart Townend’s and Keith Getty’s widely sung “In Christ Alone”:

“On that cross, as Jesus died, the wrath of God was satisfied.”

Or consider the language of “payment,” as in various contemporary versions of the 19th century hymn “Jesus Paid It All,” originally written by Elvina Marble Hall, in 1865:

“Jesus paid it all, all to Him I owe, sin had left a crimson stain, He washed it white as snow”

And this other line:

Oh, praise the One who paid my debt,  And raised this life up from the dead.

Or even a fairly recent song by Shane and Shane, “All Sufficient Merit”:

“It is done, it is finished, no more dеbt I owe
Paid in full, all-sufficient merit now my own”

Reach back into 18th century for this classic from Charles Wesley, “And Can It Be?

And can it be that I should gain
An int’rest in the Savior’s blood?
Died He for me, who caused His pain?
For me, who Him to death pursued?
Amazing love! how can it be
That Thou, my God, should die for me?

Lots of substitution language in Wesley’s famous hymn. Too much for Brian Zahnd?

You would have to purge hymnals and Powerpoint slides of projected screen lyrics of a lot of standard worship song phrases to remove the references which Zahnd finds objectionable.

 

Will The Real “Penal Substitutionary Atonement” Please Stand Up?

But is Zahnd somehow onto something? Much of the controversy comes down to how key terms like “penal” and “substitutionary” are defined which makes the difference.

Frankly, you can find evidence to support Zahnd’s critique by listening to various sermons given by some vigorous defenders of PSA. Minneapolis preacher John Piper has given the following explanation as to when Caiaphas, the high priest of the time of Jesus’ crucifixion, in John 11:50, said that was better to have Jesus killed than it was that the whole nation should perish:

“In the mind of Caiaphas, the substitution was this: We kill Jesus so the Romans won’t kill us. We substitute Jesus for ourselves. In the mind of God, the substitution was this: I will kill my Son so I don’t have to kill you. God substitutes Jesus for his enemies.”

Did God really kill Jesus? Did the Father really kill his Son? Zahnd would probably interpret Piper as saying yes, that God, the Father, killed the Son,  in order to satisfy the wrath of the Father against sinful humanity. For Zahnd, Piper’s explanation makes Jesus, as the Son, into “a whipping boy to vent [God’s, the Father’s]  rage upon,” the very idea which Zahnd rejects as being the core of PSA.

This is where Stott’s chapter on “The Self-Substitution of God” is alone worth the price of the book.  Take note of what John Stott says about certain well-intended defenders of PSA, who end up delivering a caricature of what the work of Christ is really about on the cross:

“In the one [caricatured] case Christ is pictured as intervening in order to pacify an angry God and wrest from him a grudging salvation. In the other [caricature], the intervention is ascribed to God, who proceeds to punish the innocent Jesus in place of us the guilty sinners who had deserved the punishment. In both cases God and Christ are sundered from one another: either Christ persuades God or God punishes Christ. What is characteristic of both presentations is they denigrate the Father. Reluctant to suffer himself, he victimizes Christ instead. Reluctant to forgive, he is prevailed on by Christ to do so. He is seen as a pitiless ogre whose wrath has to be assuaged, whose disinclination to act has to be overcome, by the loving self-sacrifice of Jesus.

Such crude interpretations of the cross still emerge in some of our evangelical illustrations, as when we describe Christ as coming to rescue us from the judgment of God, or when we portray him as a whipping-boy who is punished instead of the real culprit, or as the lightning conductor to which the lethal electrical charge is deflected.”  (Stott, The Cross of Christ, p. 149-50)

Ah, here we see Zahnd’s despised “whipping-boy” complaint against PSA. However, in contrast, Stott sees certain “whipping-boy” illustrations as indicative of caricatures which distorts a genuine understanding of PSA. It makes the casual observer wonder what PSA really is all about.

 

It Is Possible to Misread the Bible in Support of PSA

Furthermore, Stott is careful not to overstate his case. For example, it is quite common in evangelical circles to say that Jesus paid the debt for our sin in full on the cross, as many worship songs declare. In support of this view, Jesus’ last words on the cross as recorded in John 19:30, as “it is finished,” is translated from the single Greek word tetelestai.

Many bible teachers have been taught, and pass onto their congregations, particularly over the past hundred years, that this word tetelestai  in an economic context means “paid in full,” which fits in nicely with the motif of penal substitutionary atonement. In the early 20th century, it was commonly thought that tetelestai was found on ancient papyri receipts in Egypt denoting a paid off debt or taxes.

Unfortunately, newer research has shown that this identification for the word “tetelestai” is actually erroneous. Such papyri receipts have a word close to tetelestai  on them, but it is indeed different from what is cited as Jesus’ last word(s) in John 19:30. In other words, neither Jesus’ hearers nor John’s readers would have readily picked up on the idea that Jesus acknowledged paying off a sin debt by uttering these word(s).

Thankfully, John Stott does not lead the reader down that rabbit hole, which is actually a dead end. Stott goes along with the majority of English translations today of John 19:30 to argue that tetelestai  simply means “it has been and will for ever remain finished” (Stott, p. 82). Like previous interpreters such as Leo the Great in the 5th century and Martin Luther in the 16th has suggested, for Jesus to have said “it is finished” would sufficiently mean that the work of Christ, however it would be understood, was finished, and that Scripture was indeed fulfilled.

We may still conclude that Jesus paid off our sin debt in full, after deeper reflection. But it would be overstating the case to argue that Jesus’ last statement on the cross specifically says this.

 

Self-Substitution On God’s Part Regarding the Cross

The key to grasping how John Stott can defend penal substitutionary atonement, while rejecting well-intended yet misguided caricatures, is in Stott’s concept of self-substitution, whereby God the Father through his Son offers himself as the very substitute to satisfy his own wrath against human sin.  In Stott’s framework, there is no need to pit the wrath of the Father against the love and mercy of the Son. The Son and the Father are not working at cross purposes against one another. The Son shares in the wrath of the Father against sin. Likewise, the Father shares in the love and mercy of the Son on behalf of sinful humanity.

As Stott would go onto say:

“We must not, then, speak of God punishing Jesus or of Jesus persuading God, for to do so is to set them over against each other as if they acted independently of each other or were even in conflict with each other. We must never make Christ the object of God’s punishment or God the object of Christ’s persuasion, for both God and Christ were subjects not objects, taking the initiative together to save sinners. Whatever happened on the cross in terms of “God-forsakenness” was voluntarily accepted by both in the same holy love that made atonement necessary…There was no unwillingness in either. On the contrary, their wills coincided in the perfect self-sacrifice of love.”  (Stott, p. 151)

In a certain broad sense, John Piper might be correct to say that out of respect to God’s sovereignty and his providential activity in the world that “God killed Jesus.” But the saying is misleading. Saying that “God killed Jesus” is not that much different from saying that when your dear grandmother dies of cancer that “God killed your grandmother.” Really? With all due respect to John Piper, Piper’s comments are highly problematic.

The danger in making such an assessment is that it invites the kind of caricatures which critics of PSA, such as Brian Zahnd , will make against the PSA position as a whole.  Honoring the sovereignty of God as part of a theodicy, which says that even in the face of evil, God’s will remains supreme, arguably means well. But if it leaves the impression that God is somehow a capricious monster, whose anger must be placated in a manner no different than the pagan gods, then the assessment is counterproductive at best, a horrific scandal at worst.

Rumors of that scandal only encourages preachers like Brian Zahnd to double-down on their critique of PSA, as a corruption of pure Christian doctrine.

Thankfully, John Stott’s position avoids the pitfalls exposed by both misguided attempts to rescue the pure atoning work of Christ away from the supposedly painful grip of “penal substitution,” on the one hand, and overzealous apologetics which say that “God killed Jesus,” on the other.  I have had to re-read these sentences from John Stott several times to let it all sink in, as Stott sprinkles in quotes from P. T. Forsyth, the late 19th and 20th century Scottish theologian:

“[God] was unwilling to act in love at the expense of his holiness or in holiness at the expense of his love. So we may say that he satisfied his holy love by himself dying the death and so bearing the judgment which sinners deserved. He both exacted and accepted the penalty of human sin. And he did it ‘so as to be just and the one who justifies the man who has faith in Jesus’ (Rom. 3:26). There is no question now either of the Father inflicting punishment on the Son or of the Son intervening on our behalf with the Father, for it is the Father himself who takes the initiative in his love, bears the penalty of sin himself, and so dies. Thus the priority is neither ‘man’s demand on God’ nor ‘God’s demand on men’, but supremely ‘God’s demand on God, God’s meeting his own demand’ “(Stott, p. 152).

Does Stott’s characterization of God’s “self-substitution” regarding the cross of Christ go against any traditional sense of penal substitutionary theory? Is Stott redefining terms like “penal,”  “substitution,” or even “atonement” to make PSA as traditionally understood unrecognizable? To my knowledge, Stott stands firmly within the traditional camp while rightfully rejecting extreme, excessive expressions of the traditional PSA view. I find it curious that contemporary critics of PSA, including those acting in good faith who are not merely throwing stones at PSA with overworn tropes (like saying that Jesus’ death on the cross was an act of “cosmic child abuse”), rarely interact with Stott’s classic work on the topic.  If I am wrong about this, I would like to be corrected.

 

Applying the Doctrine of the Cross of Christ

While Stott’s careful discussion about God’s self-substitutionary act of atonement through the work of Christ on the cross is the most valuable contribution of Stott’s book, The Cross of Christ has many other benefits. Stott finds that the language of penal and substitutionary atonement is complemented by other biblical ideas that flesh out the doctrine in full.

Stott reminds Christians of the oft forgotten aspect of Christ’s defeat over the powers of sin, death, and evil, which was recovered for Western Christians by the early-to-mid 20th century Swedish theologian, Gustav Aulen, through his influential 1930 work Christus Victor. The Christus Victor motif puts emphasis on Christ’s victory over the powers of darkness, a feature long held prominent in Eastern Orthodoxy (Stott, p. 228ff).

Stott also finds value in certain aspects of Peter Abelard’s “moral influence” theory of the atonement. In the “moral influence” view, Christ’s death on the cross is an expression of the love of God, in which Christians are called to emulate that same kind of love, in our relationships with God and others. Jesus laid down his life for us out of love, therefore we are to lay down our lives for others. Abelard was reacting against his contemporary fellow 12th century theologian colleague Anselm, who pioneered the language of “satisfaction,” for describing the work of Christ, with respect to uphold God’s honor (Stott, p. 217ff). Stott finds some fault with Anselm, who “should have laid more emphasis on God’s love” (Stott, p. 221).

However, Stott finds some fault with those critics like Abelard and Aulen, for their focus on their respective efforts to emphasize the subjective aspect of atonement at the expense of the objective aspect of atonement, championed by Anselm. It is the objective character of the atonement that enables the subjective aspect. In other words, penal substitution is not at odds with either Christus Victor or moral influence motifs, but complement each other. Yet Stott suggests that penal substitution makes Christus Victor and moral influence possible. As Stott says, “the cross can be seen as a proof of God’s love [the subjective element] only when it is at the same time seen as a proof of his justice [the objective element]” (Stott, p. 220).

The last portion of The Cross of Christ focuses on the application of the doctrine of the cross for Christian practice. Because of the cross of Christ, Christians are called to sacrificially love others just as Christ has shown his love towards us. It is through meditation on the cross of Christ where we are enabled to love even our enemies. When we partake of the Lord’s Supper, we are reminded of the suffering of Christ which helps the believer to find support when we experience times of suffering for Christ’s sake.

Some have criticized that the doctrine of penal substitutionary atonement has led Christians to not “take up our cross and follow him.” A careful read of Stott’s pastorally rewarding last portion of the book should alleviate such concerns. A full appreciation of Christ’s work on the cross will lead the believer to follow in Christ’s footsteps, as opposed to walking the other way. A whole host of other practical nuggets show that the doctrine of atonement is not merely an abstract set of concepts.

 

Some Critique of Stott’s Exposition of the Cross of the Christ

Despite its strengths, The Cross of Christ has missteps in a few places. In analyzing the 1856 century Scottish work The Nature of the Atonement, by John McLeod Campbell, Stott acknowledges that Campbell upholds the substitutionary aspect of the cross while saying that Campbell dismisses the penal aspect of the cross. Stott claims that for Campbell, substitution dissolves “into vicarious penitence, instead of vicarious punishment.”  As a result, Stott dismisses Campbell’s effort to “retain the language of substitution and sin-bearing, while changing its meaning.” Such effort “must be pronounced a failure. It creates more confusion than clarity.” (Stott, pp. 141-143).

Stott’s critique is not entirely fair. While the substitutionary aspect of Campbell’s approach remains sound, the penal aspect of atonement we should admit is harder to defend, primarily because it is so easily misunderstood. Is God’s wrath concerning sinful humanity directed towards sinful humans or sin itself? While it might seem more pious to say that God’s wrath is directed towards sinful humans, this is only because sin has become so regretfully intertwined in humanity that it becomes exceedingly difficult to separate our sin from our core human identity.  Yet a more proper way is to say that God mainly focuses his wrath against sin itself, and not the people for whom Christ has died.

Stott also has very little discussion, if any, analyzing the difference between ritual purity and moral impurity, two fundamental concepts standing behind the sacrificial system described in the Book of Leviticus. Any genuine New Testament theology of cross is indebted to the Book of Leviticus. But the concept of atonement as described in Leviticus is quite complex and nuanced, and Stott only makes scattered references to it. More recent research shows that Christian interpreters have tended to overlook or minimize Jewish views regarding atonement and the Levitical ritual impurity system when articulating the doctrine of the cross. For example, numerous scholars today hail the work of the Jewish scholar Jacob Milgrom on Leviticus as transformative, most of Milgrom’s work on Leviticus having been published after Stott published The Cross of Christ in 1986. In other words, while Stott’s description of the atoning work of Christ is robust, it is still not as robust as it could have been.

Despite these few shortcomings, John R. W. Stott’s The Cross of Christ remains a trustworthy and helpful guide for understanding and applying the truths behind the death of Christ for our sins. The various motifs surrounding the work of Christ, including penal substitution, Christus Victor, and the moral influence of Christ, all contribute to a rich theology that can nourish the church down through the ages. If I could name one contemporary book, even though it was first written back in 1986, which adequately defends PSA thoroughly against a wide variety of critics, Stott’s The Cross of Christ would be my go-to recommended resource.

 

One Final Thought:

Christian opponents of penal substitutionary atonement (PSA) undoubtedly mean well. They are not all “woke,” progressive Christians, as some strict defenders of PSA over-enthusiastically claim, though undoubtedly  some very much are.

As evidenced by John Stott’s The Cross of Christ, much of the critique of PSA depends on all-too-common caricatures which Stott effectively dismantles. Just because someone props up a caricature of PSA as a defense of PSA does not mean that they understand what PSA really is.

Here is something to keep in mind: Some have suggested that the Eastern church never accepted any kind of doctrine of penal substitutionary atonement, and continues to reject penal substitution as a theological innovation of the Western church. But one should not be too hasty in drawing such a conclusion.

Saint Athanasius, surely a hero in Eastern Orthodoxy, wrote this in a letter to Marcellinus:

“He suffered for us, and bore in himself the wrath that was the penalty of our transgression, even as Isaiah says, Himself bore our weaknesses.”

Saint Cyril of Alexandria in his commentary on John’s Gospel wrote this:

“We were, then, accursed and condemned, by the sense of God, through Adam’s transgression, and through breach of the Law laid down after him; but the Savior wiped out the hand-writing against us, by nailing the title to his cross…For our sake he paid the penalty for our sins.”

More recently, Saint Philaret of Moscow, wrote in a catechism for Eastern Orthodoxy:

“Jesus Christ, the Son of God … endured all the penalties due to all the sins of men, and death itself, in order to deliver us from sin and death….. His voluntary suffering and death on the cross for us, being of infinite value and merit, as the death of one sinless, God and man in one Person, is…a perfect satisfaction to the justice of God, which had condemned us for sin to death…to give us sinners pardon of our sins…”

All of the typical theological trigger words which opponents of penal substitution find to be so odious find their affirmation in the writings of these Eastern Orthodox leaders: Athanasius wrote of “wrath” and “penalty.” Cyril wrote of Christ as the one who “paid” the “penalty” for our sins. Philaret approved of the language of “satisfaction” to describe the work of Christ on the cross. So, before someone wants to rewrite many of our worship songs, we should reckon with the words of these highly respected church fathers of the East.

We can preserve the best of the tradition that gave us a theology of penal substitutionary atonement, while also embracing other themes and motifs that fill in the colors of the portrait of Christ on the cross, such as Christus Victor and moral influence. John R. W. Stott’s The Cross of Christ helps us to do just that.

 


An Addendum:  A Timely Debate When I Post This Book Review!…..

Just a few weeks after I finished re-reading Stott’s The Cross of Christ, Christian evangelical Twitter (or X) blew up when popular bible teacher John Mark Comer came out to say that he recently read a book which delivers a “knock out blow to PSA.”  Into the flurry of comments, some more responsibly nuanced than others, with a lot of back and forth, Protestant apologist Gavin Ortlund gives a summary of classic understandings of penal substitutionary atonement in the following video, offering a modest Stott-like defense, while rejecting caricatures of PSA. John Mark Comer has since walked back some on his earlier statement, stating that he still believes in some form of substitutionary atonement, but the debate continues. Some even wonder if an evangelical can truly be an academic, or do doctrinal commitments prevent someone from rethinking a long cherished belief. Andrew Rillera’s Lamb of the Free is at the heart of the controversy. Even John Mark Comer, in a recent follow-up statement acknowledges that Rillera “completely denies all substitution, which seems untenable biblically to me.” Derek Rishmawy, a blogger whom I follow occasionally, has written a response to John Mark Comer’s concerns about PSA. Rillera’s book is on my “to-be-read” list. I am open to being challenged, but you have to make a pretty compelling case to dismiss a Christian doctrine that goes back hundreds of years to the early church:


Notes on Leviticus: By Michael Heiser. Part Three

Which parts of the Law of Moses found in the Book of Leviticus are still binding on the Christian today? Christians from diverse traditions debate this most controversial topic. Jonathan Edwards, perhaps America’s greatest theological mind, had this to say:

“There is perhaps no part of divinity attended with so much intricacy, and wherein orthodox divines do so much differ, as stating of the precise agreement and differences between the two dispensations of Moses and Christ.”1

Leviticus is essentially a law book, detailing the specifics of the Old Covenant, which defined the standards for the ancient Israelite community. But what exactly are the elements from that Old Covenant that have been brought forward into New Covenant? And even if particulars of certain Old Covenant regulations from Leviticus are not binding on New Covenant believers, might there still be lessons in Christian obedience to be learned from them today?

Protestant evangelicals are divided on such issues: Is tithing carried forward under the New Covenant?  Does the Bible allow Christians to get tattoos? What about Saturday Sabbath observance? Hebrew Roots Movement enthusiasts bring forward as much from the Old Covenant as they can, even without a standing temple in Jerusalem. Progressive Christians do just the opposite, and jettison as much of the Old Covenant as they can, when certain moral prescriptions are deemed out-of-date. The diversity of such practical applications in interpreting Leviticus can be bewildering.

I came across the teaching of the late Dr. Michael Heiser several years ago, through his Naked Bible Podcast. An expert in Semitic languages and the Old Testament, he did an audio series on the Book of Leviticus, which were transcribed to form the book Notes on Leviticus: From the Naked Bible Podcast. As the author of The Unseen Realm, one of the most groundbreaking books I have read in recent memory, having influence across multiple denominations and Christian traditions, Heiser walks the student of Leviticus through the text in ways that opened up the book for me, with a lens that helps to better understand so many other parts of the Bible. As I have noted at several points, I am not always convinced by Dr. Heiser’s thinking, but he is way far more right than wrong in what he says, and he challenges me to think more deeply on crucial issues concerning the Bible. The tens of thousands of thoughtful Christians who follow Heiser’s YouTube channel surely agree with me.

Heiser’s premise is that Christian readers have often read Leviticus through presuppositions they bring in from their understanding of the New Testament, often confusing things in the process. Alternatively, Heiser proposes that we should learn to read Leviticus from the perspective of an ancient Israelite. What did Leviticus mean to a follower of Yahweh centuries before Jesus came on the scene?

One of the major themes in Leviticus is the concept of atonement. I am publishing this post on Good Friday, which in the Christian calendar commemorates what Jesus accomplished on the cross for us. Many theologians link Good Friday to the concept of atonement, the focus of this final post in this series. But the exact meaning of atonement has stimulated a significant debate among scholars: What does it mean to say that Jesus died for our sins?

On the late Michael Heiser’s Naked Bible Podcast, this Old Testament scholar brings out important highlights, accessible to everyday Christians, who want to have a better grasp on Leviticus, one of the least studied, least understood, and least read books in the Old Testament.

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