Theologians have always struggled to balance the puzzling questions of faith with the solid answers of faith. We easily fall into opposite paths of either nebulous ambiguity or presumptuous pride of knowledge. But Christopher Wright in his latest book The God I Don’t Understand avoids both paths. He is able to admit humbly the things that are beyond understanding, while clearly articulating the truths that we should understand because God has made them clear in the Bible. Throughout the book, Wright quotes from Christian hymns and poetry that accentuate the point that “faith seeks understanding, and faith builds on understanding where it is granted, but faith does not finally depend on understanding” (22).
Take the problem of evil. Wright honestly admits that evil is a mystery, something that simply does not make sense. The Bible contains many examples of people expressing lament, protest, and anger at the presence of evil, and all of these responses are appropriate. And yet despite the mystery and offense of evil, our faith also leads us to affirm the utter goodness and sovereignty of God, truths that converge at the cross, which Wright deals with at a later chapter.
Another example is the destruction of the Canaanites during the Israelite conquest. Wright insists that we are right to struggle with this hard reality, but that the Bible does point help us avoid some dead-end answers and provides some frameworks for understanding. The dead-ends answers include, “it’s an Old Testament problem, which the New Testament puts right” or “the Israelites thought it was what God commanded, but they were wrong” or “it is all meant as an allegory of spiritual warfare.” What I love about Wright’s approach is that he does not present “solutions” in contrast to these “dead-ends.” He admits that his frameworks “do not neatly remove the emotional and moral pain and revulsion generated by the conquest narratives. However, I do find these perspectives helpful for my own faith, and I pass them on in the hope they may help you too” (86). Therefore he presents the culture and rhetoric of ancient warfare, the uniqueness of the conquest, the wickedness of the Canaanites, God’s justice, and God’s overarching plan of salvation as frameworks “to strengthen our faith in the midst of things we do not understand” (107).
Some people are surprised that Wright included a large section on the cross in a book entitled The God I Don’t Understand. But Wright explains that lacking full and complete understanding does not prohibit us from loving and trusting the God whom we do not fully understand. Why did God send his only Son to die on the cross for our sins? The best answer we can give is that he loved us, but why did he love us? This is a mystery that can only lead us to grateful praise! After acknowledging the mystery, Wright traces out the elements of the cross that we should understand, including the multitude of metaphors the Bible provides to teach us about the reality of the atonement (redemption, ransom, victory, new creation, etc.). At the center of all these metaphors, Wright concludes that we will find penal substitution. “It is the essence of what the Bible says happened at the cross” (127). He claims that those who challenge the centrality of penal substitution are merely attacking a caricature, or a straw man, not the biblical reality. The biblical atonement fulfills both God’s anger and love, is an act of both Father and Son, and takes about both our guilt and shame.
In the last section of his book, Wright deals with the much-contested subject of eschatology and the end of the world. Again, throughout this chapter Wright confesses his lack of understanding with great humility. He says, “I sometimes think it is like a creature whose eyes and brain can only see things in black, white, and shade of grey, trying to imagine what a world of colour is like…or what it might be like to live in a world of four (or five or fifty) dimensions” (159). Wright covers a myriad of important topics—millennium, rapture, the land of Israel, the resurrection of the dead, the return of Christ, and the day of judgment—but in my perspective nothing is more important than the emphasis Wright puts on our final destiny, which is not heaven. If we have saving faith in Jesus, we will go to heaven when we die, but we will not stay there. Jesus is coming back to renew and reign over this earth in a new heavens and new earth! Our bodies will be raised from the dead, we will meet Jesus in the air, and come right back down to earth with our Savior and King. Wright explains how this new creation will include the full glory of civilizations, the healing of nations, the harmony of creation, and a redeemed humanity, all under the glorious presence of God. I agree with Wright that this vision of the new creation has great importance for our lives today, as “all of our work now contributes to the content of the new creation” and “all our behavior now must be governed by the standards of the new creation” (219-20).
In sum, The God I Don’t Understand is an excellent model of theology done with an accurate understanding of our finiteness and fallenness. It does not shy aware from mystery and unanswerable questions, but embraces them as part and parcel of our faith. Out of this humble approach arose solid perspectives on some of the most perplexing issues of the faith. These perspectives did not just feed my understanding, but they moved my heart and empowered my will to live for the glory of God.
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