A Meditation on the Atonement: Colossians 1:13,14

He has rescued us from the power of darkness and transferred us to the kingdom of his Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins (NRSV).

In his book Christus Victor, which helped restore the patristic view of atonement to prominence in the last century, Gustav Aulen speaks of the “dramatic” aspect of atonement. This in his usage refers to the cosmological nature of the atonement—its wide-reaching effects not just for individual souls but for the whole cosmos. This idea of dramatic conflict between God and the Satan, not just for the souls of the elect but for the shalom of the entire universe, is one that according to Aulen pervades both the New Testament and patristic literature. Whether or not Aulen’s thesis is correct, this passage certainly reflects such a perspective.

Paul’s view here is cosmic: God snatches away from the myriad powers of darkness and brings us into his new structure for reality, the kingdom of his Son. In Christ’s kingdom there is redemption, an economic term whose resonance for Jews recalls the Exodus (Exodus 6:6), the controlling metaphor for their understanding and experience of YHWH. This redemption in Christ is defined as “forgiveness of sins,” a phrase whose rich depths of meaning include ideas from personal salvation to God’s restoration of justice to the whole universe.

Whatever our view of the mechanics of atonement, we must affirm that his sacrifice has universal, and not just personal, dimensions. The cross is the turning point of history, the linchpin of God’s program for a new heaven and a new earth. Atonement is about new reality exploding into our lives, challenging our deepest assumptions and most cherished beliefs. Atonement is for the world: for our family, our neighbors, our countrymen and all of our fellow humans. Indeed, it is not just for them; it is for the creation that groans in anticipation for God’s redemption (Romans 8:22). For our own wounded souls, for the poor and powerless of this world, for the corrupted nature that assails us: Christ’s work is for all of these. And, as "ambassadors for Christ" (2 Corinthians 5:19) entrusted with a "message of reconciliation" (v. 20), it is our job to proclaim the message of that conciliatory work to every inch of creation, through our words and our deeds, doing all to the glory of God.

The Mystery of the Word

So this "Bible" thing is really confusing.

The Bible and I have had an interesting relationship. My first Bible was "The Beginner's Bible," a score or so of illustrated Bible stories. Most of my religious experience as a kids stems from the images in this book. By the time I was six or so I had a real Bible, but I don't recall reading it, ever. This trend continued after my "salvation experience" and subsequent "re-commitment."

With a real commitment to Jesus came a real commitment to the Word. I diligently followed the required readings in my "First 30 Quiet Times" booklet, and when that was finished, began following a daily reading plan in addition to various Bible studies. My conception of the Bible at this point was pretty basic: it was God's Word. Read it. Do it. Simple.

This phase lasted for a couple years, until my interest in Christianity took a more academic and intellectual bent. I discovered that the Bible was not churned out in a single sitting by a single author but was rather the combined result of several thousand years and multiple authors from varying backgrounds. I learned about Q and theories of Synoptic interdependence. I began to understand the biblical authors' pastoral and polemic concerns. And my conception of the Bible began to change. How could a book like Luke, whose author (who might not actually be Luke!) used multiple sources, edited and redacted material, and who has clearly identifiable pastoral concerns, be inspired or "God-breathed" (2 Timothy 3:16) in the way that I understood it? So I began to mistrust my Bible.

Sometime during last semester I realized that my attitude toward the Bible was having serious effects on my spiritual growth. I knew that my growth as a young Christian was directly tied to my immersion in the Word, but my intellectual understanding of the Bible did not permit the same simplistic understanding I'd once had. I feared using the Bible as a "magic book," not wanting to engage in such practices as flipping it open to random pages seeking spiritual direction. I began trying to work out a "philosophy of the Bible" that could reconcile my spiritual thirst for the Word of God with my intellectual need for truth-telling about the nature of this odd collection of ancient documents that we call the Holy Bible.

Though this endeavor proved intellectually stimulating for a day or two, it failed to reconcile me to my Bible. And although I had read and approvingly highlighted this passage last winter when I first read the book, it's tangible meaning escaped me until just recently:

Reading scripture, like praying and sharing in the sacraments, is one of the means by which the life of heaven and the life of earth interlock. ... How this happens is unpredictable and often mysterious.

(N.T. Wright, Simply Christian: Why Christianity Makes Sense. San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 2006.)

I had missed an important point about the Word. It might be okay to theorize about the Bible from a safe distance as a scholar, but as a living Christian, thinking and theorizing is useless without direct engagement with God's Word.

At the heart of the Word is a divine mystery. The Bible clearly a collection of ancient documents at home in particular and far-removed socio-politico-cultural settings. It is also unavoidably the product of human authors, human authors not just with particular vocabularies and styles, but particular biases and agendas.

But the Bible is also unequivocally the Word of God. The Christian canon is, from Genesis to Revelation, "God-breathed." This term does not allow for a conception of the Bible that sees it as a mostly human project to which, when completed, God gave a passing glance and a causal stamp of approval. No, "God-breathed" implies a work in which God is intimately involved, a work into which God pours the very essence of his divine life.

So how are these two ideas to be reconciled? I don't know. The Word is, in Wright's terms, a place where earth and heaven interlock. In every such place there is an element of mystery, the undefinable quality of a place where our reality and God's collide.

It is a mystery not meant to be eyed from a distance but to explored, to be engaged, to be wrestled with. It is a mystery that has to be lived. The Bible is part of God's living mystery. It is (among other things) a record of God's interaction with human beings: living, breathing human beings like you and me. It is a story of what happens when God invades the lives of ordinary people like me and turns them upside-down. It is also an essential part of God's way of invading my own life, right here and now. Thus it is a mystery that, as generations of Christians have attested, must be personally sought out.

So when I quote to myself Philippians 4:13, "I can do all things through him who strengthens me," I am neither reciting a direct quotation from the mouth of God nor simply repeating the words of a 1st century charismatic preacher. I am doing something includes those categories but ultimately transcends them. I am participating in the mysterious--and sometimes indeed incomprehensible--kingdom-life of God. My experience of the Bible is not predicated on my understanding of it, but rather my willingness to engage it--not as an esoteric anthology of historical interest or a transcription of divine revelation of other-worldly concern--but as a mystery, a thin place between here and heaven.

As a mystery, the Bible is ill-suited to modern sound-bite-ism. But, as a mystery, it can be as powerful in mustard seed-sized doses as it is in its full discourses. So with the proceeding thoughts in mind, I conclude with two selections from Scripture, one relevant to the topic and one that has been on my heart as of late:

All scripture is inspired by God and is useful for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness, so that everyone who belong to God may be proficient, equipped for every good work.

(2 Timothy 3:16-17, NRSV)

If God is for us, who is against us? He who did not withhold his own Son, but gave him up for all of us, will he not with him also give us everything else? Who will bring any charge against God's elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? It is Christ Jesus who died, yes, who was raised, who is at the right hand of God, who indeed intercedes for us. ...In all these things, we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.

(Romans 8:31-34,37)

Vicit Agnus Noster