Tag: ChristOurMediator

Analogies to understand Christ’s atonement

Analogies to understand Christ’s atonement

In this article, I’ll discuss two common questions that Christians have about Christ’s atonement. By “atonement,” I mean the means by which Christ’s sacrificial death removes our guilt for wrongdoing and therefore reconciles us to God.

Atonement is a key tenet of the Christian story:

  • The prophet Isaiah spoke about a mysterious servant who would be pierced for our offenses, crushed for our wrongdoings, upon whom God would lay our punishment, by whose wounds we are healed. “[T]he Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all” (Isa 53:7, RSV).
  • The blood sacrifice rituals of the old covenant provided atonement for the participants (Lev 4:20ff) as a living parable of Christ’s perfect sacrifice (Heb 9:9).
  • Mark, the gospel writer, says Jesus came to give his lie as a ransom for many (Mk 10:45).
  • The apostle Peter writes that Christ “suffered for sins once for all time, the just for the unjust, so that He might bring us to God …” (1 Pet 3:18).
  • John the baptizer declared that Jesus was “the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!” (Jn 1:29).

Over and over, we see that somehow, someway, Jesus’ voluntary sacrificial death for his people brings about legal and personal reconciliation with God.

Christ, by his obedience and death, did fully discharge the debt of all those that are justified; and did, by the sacrifice of himself in the blood of his cross, undergoing in their stead the penalty due unto them, make a proper, real, and full satisfaction to God’s justice in their behalf (2LBCF, §11.3).

Fair enough. But here are the two questions:

  1. How, exactly, does God apply the benefits of Jesus’ death to a sinner’s account? The Christian story says it does, but can we logically explain this? How does it work?
  2. How is Jesus’ sacrificial, substitutionary death not a cruel measure? That is, how is it right or fair to punish an innocent man for crimes he did not commit?

I’ll answer these two questions with two analogies.

Question 1—How does atonement work?

The first analogy is that of a representative or delegate.

  • Your state has two U.S. Senators. These senators represent you in Washington D.C. They represent your interests, your concerns. They speak and vote on your behalf. You don’t have to go to Washington because your U.S. senators are there for you. Their actions (and votes) are imputed to you. They are you, in a sense.
  • Your state also has individuals who act as “electors” in each presidential election. We do not elect presidents by popular vote—they’re chosen by electors, who are representatives chosen by each state.

These are two common examples of “representatives” we accept in everyday life. It’s just the way it is. The application of Jesus’ atonement shouldn’t be a problem, then, because the Christian story has always worked through representatives:

  • Adam and Eve are our first parents. The apostle Paul spends much time explaining that they represent us (Rom 5:12ff, 1 Cor 15).
  • Abraham is the great patriarch from whom all true believers are descended.
  • Moses is the great representative of the old covenant—the one through whom God spoke and worked on behalf of the people.

Theologians often call this “federalism.” It means that God works through a representative whose actions set the course—good or bad—for his constituents. The two great representatives in the Christian story are Adam and Christ.

  • Adam is the bad representative. His failure to love and obey God brought sin and its penalty of death to everyone (Rom 5:12). We’re born belonging to him, by default, because God legally imputes Adam’s actions to his constituents. God does this because Adam represents us—he’s our delegate. This is bad news for us—unless we jump ship for a better deal with a better representative.
  • Jesus is that better representative. His success in loving in obeying God brings legal pardon and personal reconciliation for all who belong to him.

The apostle Paul says:

So then, as through one offense the result was condemnation to all mankind, so also through one act of righteousness the result was justification of life to all mankind. For as through the one man’s disobedience the many were made sinners, so also through the obedience of the One the many will be made righteous (Romans 5:18-19).

The question is: “How, exactly, does God apply the benefits of Jesus’ death to a sinner’s account?” The answer:

  • Because, like Adam, Jesus is a representative or delegate whose actions are reckoned or imputed to his constituents.
  • God reckons or imputes the benefits of Jesus’ perfect life and sacrificial death to everyone who trusts in him for spiritual rescue.
  • Those benefits are legal pardon and personal reconciliation with God.

If this seems too fantastic to believe, then I ask you to consider your U.S. senators—don’t you realize they act in the name of their constituents, and their actions are imputed to you? Think of your state’s electors in the 2024 presidential election—do you reject the votes they cast on behalf of your state when they chose the current president?

Jesus is the federal representative for everyone who trusts in him. That’s how and why God cheerfully applies the benefits of his eternal son’s sacrificial death to his people.

Question 2—Cruel and unusual?

The second analogy I’ll offer is that of vicarious liability.

  • Say your state’s Department of Transportation is fixing a highway. They close a lane. They set up cones and warning signs. But they don’t do a good job. A driver misses the signs, crashes into a work truck, and is horribly injured. He can sue the state for negligence and attempt to recoup monetary damages.
  • Suppose an inmate in a state prison needs urgent medical attention. He doesn’t get it. The prison doctors misdiagnosed his symptoms early on. He becomes terribly ill. By the time the prison doctors realize what’s wrong, it’s too late. The inmate dies of stomach cancer two months later. The inmate’s family can sue the state.

This makes sense, right? Nothing controversial here. Nothing outrageous. This is the principle of vicarious liability. The Department of Transportation guy is the one who messed up. The prison doctors are the ones who made the awful mistake. And yet—it is the state who is sued.

Why?

Because the state has voluntarily and willingly said: “If our guys mess up, you can hold us responsible.” It has taken on that responsibility. The state has chosen to bear the guilt of another. Of course, because the prison doctor is an agent of the state (i.e., a state employee), then in certain circumstances the state truly is responsible. But the principle of vicarious liability stands—one person is punished in place of another, as a substitute.

This is precisely what Jesus has done. He died, the just for the unjust, in order to bring us to God (1 Pet 3:18). The great difference, of course, is that we are not like the prison doctor—we aren’t agents of Jesus. He did not have to own us and our guilt, but he chose to do it anyway. “For God so loved the world, that He gave His only Son, so that everyone who believes in Him will not perish, but have eternal life” (Jn 3:16).

So, the question is: “How is Jesus’ sacrificial, substitutionary death not a cruel measure?” The answer is that:

  • Because Jesus willingly and voluntarily offers to bear the guilt of his people’s crimes,
  • God the Father makes his eternal son vicariously liable for our sins,
  • The just for the unjust, in our place, as our substitute, representative, or delegate,
  • And so, Jesus suffered and died to atone for our sins.

If this sounds absurd, then remember that the next time you read about somebody suing a government agency for negligence. I recently investigated an instance in which foster parents physically and sexually tortured a nine-year-old boy. There was one instance when the parents brandished garden shears and tried to castrate the child. Much later, after police intervened and removed him from that evil place, the boy sued the state for negligence because the state placed him in that home. Of course, the state didn’t torture the boy. But the state made the decision (in certain circumstances) to own the actions—good or bad—of the foster parents it licensed.

If you believe the boy can file suit against the state (and I suspect you do), then you also ought to believe that it’s fine for Jesus to be vicariously liable for our crimes. True, Jesus did nothing wrong (2 Cor 5:21). But that’s why vicarious liability is vicarious. It’s also why God is love (1 Jn 4:8).

Helpful?

Christians sometimes know something is good and true even if they can’t fully explain why. We know Christ died for us and his actions change our relationship with God. But the logical mechanics of how and why can be elusive. I hope these two analogies—that of a representative in the form of a U.S. senator or electoral college elector, and the legal concept of vicarious liability—help us understand Christ’s atonement a bit better.

Is the Papacy Biblical? A Look at Matthew 16

Is the Papacy Biblical? A Look at Matthew 16

Pope Francis’ recent death is an opportunity for bible-believing Christians to consider what we ought to believe about the papacy. The goal is not to dance on a dead man’s grave, but to think about who oversees Christ’s church. Is the papacy a legitimate institution? Does it have biblical warrant?

The Catechism of the Catholic Church (“CCC”) says that:

  1. Peter is the rock of the church, which is built upon him (CCC, Art(s). 881, 552).
  2. Peter has the “keys” and therefore governs the church (CCC, Art(s). 553, 881).
  3. Peter is the shepherd of the church, and priests and bishops have derivative authority under Peter.
  4. Peter is the source and foundation of the unity of the church—he has full, supreme, and universal power (CCC, Art. 882).
  5. According to the first Vatican council (Vatican I, 1869-70, Session 4), if you do not agree with Rome’s teaching about Peter, you are damned to hell.

This is all false and cannot be defended from scripture. Rome’s argument, both in the CCC and at Vatican I, centers on Matthew 16:18 and some supporting citations. My argument here focuses on the Matthew 16 passage. If you want to read more about Rome’s grave and terrible errors about the gospel, I recommend (a) James White, The Roman Catholic Controversy (Minneapolis: Bethany House, 1996), and (b) Tyler Robbins, “How Rome Distorts the Gospel—Atonement Misunderstood.”

Now—on to the papacy!

In Matthew 16:18-19, Jesus gives us two pairs of images: (a) the rock and the gates, and (b) the keys and the bonds. What do they mean? Oracles from “the Greek” won’t help you here—your bible translation is just fine. Whatever these images mean, they must make the best sense of what the passage is taking about in context.

Context—what are we talking about here?

Jesus asks his disciples who people say the Son of Man is (Mt 16:13). He refers to himself as the mysterious figure from Daniel’s famous vision (Dan 7:13-14). Public opinion says that Jesus is a prophet of some sort (Mt 16:14). Now, Jesus asks the disciples who they think he is (Mt 16:15). Peter answers: “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God” (Mt 16:17).

The “Messiah” is the chosen and anointed one, the special divine envoy (“Son of the living God”) who will make all God’s covenant promises come true. He is God’s promise-keeper. He makes God known to us (Jn 1:18). Jesus agrees and tells Peter that his Father in heaven has revealed this precious truth (i.e., his confession about Jesus’ identity) to him.

So, as we move on to consider the first pair of images, we must get this right—this conversation is about Jesus’ identity and what it means. Any interpretation that takes a hard turn off this road to something completely different is wrong.

Imagery 1—The Rock and the Gates

Jesus says: “And I tell you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not overcome it” (Mt 16:18). Here we have our first pair of images.

  1. What are gates for? To keep people in or out.
  2. What is Christ’s church build on? A rock.
  3. Because Hades’ gates cannot prevail against the rock, these gates are imprisoning folks inside, and the rock smashes this gate open to set them free.

So, whatever “the rock” is …

  1. The entire family of God is built on it,
  2. and the rock is so strong, and so powerful,
  3. that Satan’s kingdom can’t withstand it!
  4. so it’s a pretty tough rock— divinely tough!

You have three options:

  1. The rock is Peter—the pope.

Rome places great stock in a Greek wordplay that Jesus uses here: “And I tell you that you are Peter (Πέτρος—petros), and on this rock (πέτρᾳ—petra) I will build my church …” This is a weak argument. Unless context suggests otherwise (and remember, the context is Jesus’ identity and what it means), there is no need to see this as anything other than a playful wordplay.

For example, my first name is Mark. Yet my parents have called me Tyler all my life, so I have no idea why they bothered to name me Mark. A similar wordplay would be if someone told me: “Your name is Mark, and mark my words that …” That is all this need be. Peter has nothing to do with this conversation—they’re talking about Jesus’ identity.

  1. The Rock is Jesus.

When he says, “and upon this rock,” he points to himself. This is weak and desperate. The pronoun translated “this” refers to something nearby in the context. This position rightly rejects Peter as the rock (because it is out of context), and to make Jesus himself “this rock,” they must make him point to himself. There is a simpler way—one that doesn’t require us to pantomime while explaining it.

  1. The rock is Peter’s confession of Jesus’ identity and what it means—his faith and trust in the Messiah.

Option 3 is the right option.[1] Christ’s church family is built on the confession that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of the living God. You cannot be a Christian (and a member of the worldwide Jesus family) unless you trust and confess the truth about him. Again, remember the context of this passage—this whole conversation is about who Jesus is and why it matters. It is not about a disciple who Jesus is going to call “satan” in four verses. It is not about the disciple who Paul rebuked to his face in Antioch (Gal 2:11-14). It is not about the guy to whom nobody in the scripture gives special authority.

But the conversation certainly is about Jesus, the Messiah, the Son of God. This explains why the rock is so strong, and so powerful, and why the gates of Hades can’t prevail against the church—because it’s divinely tough.

The completed imagery of rock + gates is this:

  1. The rock is the confession that Jesus is the divine promise-keeper and Son of God.
  2. The gates are to Satan’s kingdom, and they can no longer imprison those who believe in the rock.
  3. Jesus (the rock) smashes these gates open—remember the divine rock which smashes the statue of pagan empires (which are really different flavors of Babylon, Satan’s kingdom) at Daniel 2:34-35, 44.

Peter cannot smash these gates open. Yet, this is what the “rock + gates” imagery would have us believe. Your safety, security, and anchor is Jesus. It wasn’t John Paul II. It wasn’t Benedict. It wasn’t Francis. It is not Leo. It’s the Messiah, the Son of the living God—just like the old song says— “On Christ the solid rock I stand. All other ground is sinking sand.”

Imagery 2—The Keys and the Bonds

Jesus continued: “I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven; whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven” (Mt 16:19).

  1. What are keys for? To control access. To let you in or out.
  2. What do bonds do? They confine you. Imprison you.

We know that Jesus has the keys of life and death (Rev 1:18), the keys that lock people into that future, or let them out to embrace a better one tomorrow.

So, whatever the keys are,

  1. They let you into the kingdom of heaven,
  2. and untie or unchain you from the bonds that you’re in,
  3. which means this is a divine power.

You have two options to understand what this means:

  1. Peter has exclusive power to govern the church (the keys), and to absolve people’s sins by a sacred power—the bonds (CCC, Art(s). 553, 881, 1592).

This makes no sense of the “key” imagery. Keys are about access (Rev 1:18, 9:1, 20:1), not governance. Scripture never says to go to Peter—or anyone else—to have your sins absolved. Nor does Peter later claim this right for himself in his two New Testament letters. Instead, the bible tells us that God forgives sins—even David knew this (Ps 51:1-2).

  1. Peter (and every other Christian) offers “the key” to freedom by preaching rescue (“the bonds”) through complete forgiveness of sins.

Option 2 is the correct one.  Again, this entire conversation is about who Jesus is and why it matters. The keys don’t belong to Peter when Jesus speaks—he says he will give them to Peter (future-tense). Later, Jesus clarifies that the entire church has the keys—he even repeats the very same words (Mt 18:18).

The “key + bonds” imagery tells us this:

  1. Jesus’ family,
  2. organized into big and small Jesus communities around the world called “churches,”
  3. are his hands and feet that offer the key to spiritual freedom,
  4. by preaching liberation, forgiveness, and reconciliation.
  5. and we untie the shackles or bonds by accepting people into the brotherhood of the faithful upon a credible profession of faith (see Acts 2:41).

Jesus, through his communities around the world, unlocks the gate to death and hades and lets his people out, just like the song says— “my chains are gone, I’ve been set free, My God, my Savior has ransomed me!”

Peter was a good guy. Peter was an important guy. Peter is a star (not the star) of Acts 1-11. But Peter was just a guy.

Jesus leads his church. Not by one old man in Rome, but by Word + Spirit in his churches around the world, under qualified leaders, through you, and me, and us. And together we build Jesus’ family—just like Peter himself told us. Jesus is the “living stone” (a synonym for “rock”) to whom we come to be built up into the spiritual household of the faithful (1 Pet 2:4-5).

Your leader is not an old man in a white robe who sits in a building financed over 500 years ago by extorting money from millions of peasants with stories of fraudulent “indulgences” that can buy them time off a purgatory that doesn’t exist, and who represents a false “gospel” that has no perfect peace—that doesn’t make you holy and perfect forever (Heb 10:10, 14). Instead, thank God (literally) that the confession and trust in Jesus is your rock. Jesus is your anchor. Jesus smashes open Hades’ gates. Jesus has the keys and loans them to his churches. Jesus, through his communities across the world, unlocks the door to death and Hades to let his people out of darkness and into the marvelous light.

[1] Many conservative Protestant scholars today believe that Peter is the rock. They often comment that Protestants only object to this interpretation because of what Rome does with the passage. See John Broadus’ wonderful commentary on the Gospel of Matthew for a representative example of this line of thinking: https://tinyurl.com/4my9e7y3.

I believe this is wrong, and I have not found the arguments convincing. The context strongly supports Option 3, and it is the best antecedent for the pronoun in ἐπὶ ταύτῃ τῇ πέτρᾳ οἰκοδομήσω μου τὴν ἐκκλησίαν. This is not an academic article, so I will leave the matter here!