BOOK REPORT: “Atonement and the Death of Christ” by William Lane Craig

Why did Jesus have to die?

I’ll confess that even as a Christian preacher I only kinda-sorta thought I knew. Jesus died in our place so our sins could be forgiven, right? Amen and amen.

But deeper questions abound. Like, how exactly does the death of God’s Son accomplish our forgiveness and redemption, and what even are those things? And critics have, for centuries, objected to the idea that God could arbitrarily offer a sacrifice OF himself TO himself on behalf of people who are supposedly going to hell for (in most cases) relatively minor moral crimes. Also, if God wanted to forgive sins, couldn’t he have just done that without all the blood? Couldn’t he have put us in Time Out for a while? On top of that, haven’t civilizations around the world practiced some version of human sacrifice for time immemorial? Isn’t the sacrifice of God’s Son for our sins just our favored expression of a historically widespread but ultimately meaningless religious practice?

Anyway, I’ve known for a while that my understanding of the significance of Christ’s death is shallow.

Which is why I’ve been waiting eagerly for years for William Lane Craig to finish his book, “Atonement and the Death of Christ” (Baylor University Press 2020). Craig is a Christian apologist and philosopher who I have something of a mind-crush on. Oh, how I wish I had his ability to retain information, quote sources on the spot, organize information on esoteric theoretical concepts, and debate opponents with ease. But sigh, I don’t.

In the book, the author points out that the doctrine of the atonement (the word used to describe the significance of Christ’s death) has never been the topic at any major Church councils and has never been subjected to the far-reaching critical analysis that other major doctrines have. Why this is the case is an interesting theo-historical question, but it has nevertheless left modern Christians without a lot of guidance when it comes to understanding why and how Jesus “died for our sins.”

Craig proceeds to fill in the gap in three ways. He surveys the Biblical data related to the role of sacrifice in the Old Testament, including the suffering servant in Isaiah, the gospel’s understanding of Christ’s ransom and sacrifice, and Paul’s notion of the same. He summarizes major contributions to the question from theologians throughout history, spanning the patristic period through the medieval, reformation and post-reformation eras. And finally (and most interestingly, in my opinion), he interacts with modern philosophers of law who have much to say on the notions of justice and punishment, and what implications there might be for the idea that Jesus died as a just punishment for sinners.

In the end, Craig concludes that the death of Christ is a multi-faceted jewel that looks different when seen from different angles. Indeed, the Bible uses many motifs to describe its significance: ransom, sacrifice, redemption, victory. Even the “moral influence” theory of the atonement, while insufficient on its own, has something to it, in that Christ’s death inspires in us a sacrificial love for others modeled on the example of Jesus.

But the “table” of the jewel—the largest part of a gemstone, at the top—is the more traditional “penal-substitution theory.” According to Craig, this is the dominant motif in Scripture—whether we are talking about what Moses, Isaiah, Mark, or Paul had to say.

Broadly speaking, the theory of penal substitution holds that a just God is obligated by his own just Self to punish sinners for moral crimes committed against the Creator of life. But while God is Just he is also Love. So while he is bound to punish sin, he is equally bound to love. He accomplished both by offering his life (in the person of the Son) as a substitute to endure a punishment that should be ours. Our sins are imputed to Christ and his perfect righteousness is imputed to us. To use the fancy-shmancy theological words, our sins are expiated (absolved) and God’s wrath is thus propitiated (appeased).

The atonement (our at-one-ment with Jesus) is not an easy doctrine, and even with Craig’s logical and clear-minded presentation detractors will not be persuaded. In a fascinating conversation on the Unbelievable podcast (link here), Craig got a friendly earful from fellow theologian Greg Boyd. Boyd (another preacher-crush of mine) is a pastor-theologian in Minnesota, and a frequent critic of the penal-substitution model—or at least its excesses. While Boyd agrees that the notion of penal substitution is found in Scripture, it is largely a legal metaphor that does not get to the heart of the matter, let alone the heart of God. God is more loving than just. Our sins punish themselves through their consequences, rather than being punished by a gracious Father who, as revealed in Jesus, eschews violence. Using Craig’s metaphor, the “table” of the jewel of Christ’s death is the “Christus Victor” motif, in which Jesus offered himself to our real enemy—Satan—to free us from his control, and then defeated Satan’s power by his resurrection. Christ is our “victor” more than our penal substitute.

There will predictably be a lot of rigorous debate as scholars and pastors wade through Craig’s treatment. I hope it gets us somewhere. (I suspect it will.) I do find it at the very least interesting that even after 2,000 years after Christ’s death, we are still not 100% sure how to understand or articulate what exactly happened on the cross. Partly this is because there will always be an element of mystery to theology. We are using feeble human brains and language in an imperfect way to understand divine realities. As Peter writes, “Even the angels long to look into these things.” Humility is required.

At the same time, Craig’s summary of penal substitution is Biblically consistent, historical grounded, and philosophically coherent. It has much to commend to it. And if you can believe this, it was a page-turner. I rose at 4:30 every morning to painstakingly tackle the next chapter. The book was not only informative and challenging, but inspiring—at least to me. Boyd criticizes the book because it failed to compel him to respond to God in love. In his mind, a God who plans (or allows) the violent execution of his Son for the remission of sins is a deity of questionable moral character, not worthy of worship.

I had a different reaction. I am as committed to the notion that God is just as I am to the idea that God is love. Furthermore, I know I’m a sinner, and while not a murderer I know that the nature of my sins against God are of infinite consequence. I am seriously disqualified from any sort of heavenly fellowship with the Holy. My sins must be punished, first. But they were. For once and for all. My guilt was removed by a God who is both loving AND just. Despite whatever my sin-addled brain tells me, I now walk in the perfect righteousness of Jesus Christ whose uncorrupted life has been counted my own. And while all of earth will be judged at the end of history, I’ve already been so spared.

Even with my questions and rudimentary understanding, I’ve long believed penal substitution to be both compelling and even beautiful. In “Atonement and the Death of Christ,” William Lane Craig shows that it’s sensible, as well.

-MRH (9/27/2020)