Let us not settle for a monochrome understanding of the cross, but let us proclaim to ourselves and to an unbelieving world, the scandal and glory of the cross in all its glorious technicolour. 

Introduction¹

Birthdays, anniversaries and annual lectures are good opportunities for reflection and taking stock, for looking back and looking forward, maybe even for painful soul-searching. I am both honoured and humbled that the Trustees of the Evangelical Library have invited me to speak on the cross work of Christ celebrating two anniversaries: James Denney’s The Death of Christ² (1905) and Leon Morris’ The Apostolic Preaching of the Cross³ (1955). With the trustees’ permission, I would like two more honoured guests to gatecrash the party: Jim Packer’s Tyndale Lecture What did the Cross Achieve⁴ published in 1975, and John Stott’s The Cross of Christ⁵ which will be twenty years old in six months time. Here we have before us, spanning a century, four seminal evangelical texts on the work of Christ that have been read and that have influenced what must be hundreds of thousands of believers.

Although stylistically different, they are all fine examples of erudite scholarship and of a nuanced depth that at the same time is wonderfully lucid. Most imponancly, they are all soaked in the Scripture, artfully integrating exegesis, biblical and systematic theology. All of them offer detailed and sophisticated defences of a substitutionary understanding of the atonement which is ‘penal’ in nature: in Packer’s words: ‘Jesus Christ our Lord, moved by a love that was determined to do everything to save us, endured and exhausted the destructive divine judgement for which we were inescapably destined, and so won us forgiveness, adoption and glory.’⁶

Comfortably perched on the shoulders of these giants, who themselves sat on the shoulders of others, reaching back for two thousand years, one might assume that for evangelicals in 2005, debates over the nature of the cross need no longer concern us, any battles having been fought and decisively won by those we remember tonight. Because of their work in defending penal substitution against the old foe of theological liberalism, surely today there is evangelical unanimity, not only on the truth of penal substitution, but unanimity that penal substitution remains a fundamental tenet of the evangelical doctrine of salvation? There is little more to do than cry a big ‘Amen’ and depart from here, praising God for his saving provision in Christ and proclaiming the scandal of the cross to an unbelieving world.

Uncomfortably, as we are all too well aware, in reality the view is somewhat less scenic, as within ‘evangelicalism’ we are currently mired in a heated controversy, (some polemically might say ‘civil war’) over the precise meaning of the cross. There are those who, with sometimes the laudable intentions of our evangelism and evangelical credibility, not only want to downplay the penal character of Christ’s substitution, but who want to deny it all together.⁷

It is not my primaty aim in this lecture to defend, once again, penal substitution against its critics. To misquote an oft-quoted preacher: ‘Defend penal substitution? I’d as soon defend a lion!’⁸ I have neither the space nor expertise to think I can substantially improve upon the exegesis and arguments of a Denney, Morris, Stott and Packer, a Nicole or a Murray, let alone a Luther or Calvin. I am at ‘cognitive rest’ with their analyses of the biblical data and systematic formulation. If you are wavering on this issue and have not read them, then I urge you to do so.

What I would like to do in this lecture is to attempt some positive theological construction, examining a cluster of issues surrounding the theology of the atonement and the continuing debate over the theology of the atonement. My lecture will consist of three related sections.

I argue that under the sovereignty and providence of God we discern meaningful consequences out of doctrinal controversy. Next, I look to see whether the theological method known as ‘multi-perspectivalism’ or ‘symphonic’ theology can help us in our articulation of the atonement in the midst of such controversy. Finally, and as a worked example, I examine Christ’s death from the perspective of his victory over Satan and the salvation of creation, and argue perspectivally their inextricable link to penal substitution.

Part 1: Understanding Misunderstanding

For those of us who continue to teach and preach penal substitution there appears to be a frustrating intuitional incongruity. In light of the works that we are remembering, with their commitment to sola Scriptura, their nuance, depth and presupposed Trinitarian foundations, it is saddening but maybe still understandable that anyone who is ‘formally’ committed to an evangelical theological method, could and would not only suppress, but refute penal substitution. I don’t want to be naIve or idealistic here, I am aware of the perversity and irrationality of unbelief in my own heart, let alone others. I am also theologically shrewd enough to see that in some recent treatments, denial of penal substitution is simply the tip of a larger theological iceburg, or to put it another way the last domino which must topple from a chain reaction that started way back. Earlier moves include a denial of God’s personal wrath against sin; a re-interpretation of God’s holiness and sovereignty; post-modern sympathies in epistemology; and to be frank, a theological method which descriptively seems more classically liberal than evangelical, and seeks to interpret the Word through the world and not the world through the Word. All of these are consistent with a denial of an understanding of the cross that is founded on trans-cultural concepts such as propitiation and retributive justice. Let me repeat, this is understandable although disorientating especially when within the evangelical constituency, leaders publicly side with a CH. Dodd rather than a Leon Morris. Although it is a moot point, and itself part of the battle over ‘evangelical history’, what were in the past thought to be clear boundary markers defining evangelical identity, suddenly appear to be a great deal more opaque.

However, what I have described is not the perplexity on which I wish to focus. What is less understandable, is that in many expositions against penal substitution, what is rejected is not in actuality penal substitution but what amount to gross caricatures of penal substitution which are over-simplified, perverted and twisted expositions that at times lapse into both modal ism and tritheism, and which overall betray both a systematic and historical theological illiteracy. This is not all, for in terms of a ‘model’ of the atonement, penal substitution is often portrayed as being necessarily narrow and monochrome, not taking into account the full range of language used to describe the cross work of Christ in the Bible.⁹

What are the sources of such misunderstanding? No doubt theological, historical, and sociological factors are involved. I wonder though whether one trail leads embarrassingly back to our doorstep? While we rightly uphold the best practice of a Packer or Stott, could we entertain the possibility that at times, in our passion and earnestness to uphold the truth of penal substitution, we have provided fuel for this fire?

First, have we been guilty of less than careful expositions and illustrations of penal substitution in our preaching and teaching, what Packer calls ‘popular piety’ which is ‘devotionally evocative without being theologically rigorous’?¹⁰ Are our expositions of penal substitution fully consonant with our understanding of God’s triune nature and God’s character?

Second, is it possible that because we have not always been totally sure of the precise systematic connections between the cross as propitiating God’s wrath and the cross as victory over Satan, that in our insecurity we have tended to default to what we believe to be more central and less peripheral? Could it be that because penal substitution displays ‘the offence of the cross’ in all its ugly beauty (from Socinus to the present), it has continued to be the most offensive truth about Christ’s cross that is constantly under attack? As a result its battle-weary defenders have been defensive and ‘runnel-visioned’. In 1965 Leon Morris could write ‘upholders of the penal theory have so stressed the thought that Christ bore our penalty that they have found room for nothing else. Rarely have they in theory denied the value of other theories, but sometimes they have in practice ignored them.’¹¹

It is not my role to apportion blame here or there. I confess a whiff of autobiography in the above analysis. My question is how I—how we—learn from such situations.

In the current climate, we are being naive if we posit a simple declinism that pessimistically despairs and which, with embitterment, retreats into a perceived ever-decreasing enclave. We must take advice from the preacher, ‘There is nothing new under the sun’ (Ecc.1 :9) and, ‘Say not “Why were the former days better than these?” For it is not from wisdom that you ask this’ (Ecc. 7: 10). Has the truth of God’s personal wrath on a proud rebellious race ever been popular? Are contemporary refutations of penal substitution more devastating than Socinus’ Of Jesus Christ the Saviour, which was written over 500 years ago? If we were to discern a more cyclical or generational pattern concerning theological controversy, we would be less likely to be taken by surprise, or off-guard, with the inevitable resulting knee-jerk response, and more likely to be well prepared to interpret a situation like ours in a biblically responsible way, and act accordingly in wisdom.

In a recent essay, Wayne Grudem asks why God, in his sovereignty, allows false teachings to come into the church in different ages.¹² Two of his reasons are pertinent to our topic. His first reason is the purification of the church. That includes a belief in doctrinal progression over history which at times can be gradual and at other times explosive but which invariably comes through controversy: ‘As the church has struggled to define its own beliefs clearly in distinction from false doctrine, it has grown in its understanding of the teachings of Scripture. So God has used controversy to purify the church. In the process of controversy old errors have been corrected, and the church has refined its understanding of many things it had believed implicitly but not in a detailed or deeply understood way.’¹³ The recent events within British evangelicalism have certainly deepened and sharpened my thinking on the nature of Christ’s cross. With the number of excellent treatments we have that are defending penal substitution, we have the opportunity not only to re-familiarise ourselves with them for apologetic value, but to build on their work, knowing that there are always more riches to be mined from God’s Word.¹⁴ Preaching and teaching on the cross should never become a tiresome trial! We must make use of this providential opportunity to understand the biblical complexity and nuances of penal substitution, and resolve to teach, rebuke, correct and train both clearly faithfully and graciously. Put simply, in the words of a friend of mine, ‘Don’t get bitter, get better!’

The second reason Grudem gives for the emergence of false teaching, is that God permits false teaching to test our attitude of heart toward false teachers. Here he quotes 2 Timothy 2:24-26 (I will include v. 23 also):

Have nothing to do with foolish, ignorant controversies; you know that they breed quarrels. And the Lord’s servant must not be quarrelsome but kind to everyone, able to teach, patiently enduring evil, correcting his opponents with gentleness. God may perhaps grant them repentance leading to a knowledge of the truth, and they may escape from the snare of the devil, after being captured by him to do his will.

Grudem writes: ‘As we confront others who teach what we consider to be false doctrine today, God is testing not only our faithfulness regarding what we believe and what we write in our doctrinal statements but also how we act toward those with whom we disagree. Will we continue to act toward them in love and kindness, even when we come to the point when we feel we must exclude their teaching from what is allowed in our organisations or our churches? God is testing our hearts toward these people with whom we disagree.’¹⁵ Similarly before quoting the same passage in 2 Timothy, Roger Nicole, (who, like Morris, wrote his defence of penal substitution against CH. Dodd in 1955) has written elsewhere: ‘A Christian who carries on discussions with those who differ should not be subject to the psychology of the boxing ring, where the contestants are bent upon demolishing one another.’¹⁶

In practical terms, we need to take account of a number of things if we are to ‘speak the truth in love’. First, before we pronounce judgement, we need to make sure that those denying penal substitution are really guilty of denying a true exposition of the doctrine and not a second-hand and false caricature. Desperate as it is, we cannot presume that leaders and those in influence in our churches have had the quality and quantity of theological training commensurate to their position. Might we seek opportunities to present a biblical, Trinitarian exposition of penal substitution and so dispel some people’s long-held prejudices against this understanding of the cross? Second, we need to realise that ‘straw men’ can be constructed on both sides of an argument. It is hypocritical for us to accuse some people of caricaruring when we are doing the same thing.¹⁷ We should read the primary sources carefully and not engage in hearsay.

Finally, we need to recognise that in the New Testament error is dealt with in different ways according to the person in error. In a very helpful paper, the late Bob Sheehan offers a five-fold typology of the way the Apostles dealt with theological error. All were treated differently according to their particular context:

• the sincerely ignorant (e.g. Apollos in Acts 18). Here the apostles make no condemnation but privately explain the truth more fully.
• the sincere misinterpreter (e.g. some of the Corinthian problems). Here Paul removes all reason for misunderstanding by further clarification.
• the temporarily inamsirtmt (e.g. Peter in Gal. 2). Here, because Peter’s sin was public and because of his prominence, Paul rebukes him publicly. Paul realises Peter’s inconsistency is not a desire to repudiate the gospel but is motivated by fear. Paul does not condemn him as a heretic in confrontation, but shows him the serious implications of his teaching and gains his restoration.
• the deceived (e.g. the ‘bewitched’ Galatians). Here Sheehan notes four strands of arguments in Paul’s teaching: ‘a positive teaching of truth, a negative denunciation of error, a forthright yet accurate exposure of the false teachers and a warning of the dire consequences of persistence in false teaching.’¹⁸
• the deceivers (e.g. the Judaizers). These people are enemies of the gospel who were fundamentally unwilling to be submissive to Apostolic teaching even after an orderly and responsible process of investigation, testimony and decision (the dogmata of Acts 16:4): ‘there should be no doubt that the teaching of the Apostle with regard to these wilful, persistent, stubborn heretics is that they are to be rejected and avoided; that their excommunication from the church is necessary. There is to be no sort of contact with them for religious purposes.’¹⁹

I do not believe that such categorisation is guilty of the death of a thousand qualifications. Indeed against the antiseptic sterility of much theological discourse within evangelicalism (let alone in the wider church and academy), I, like the New Testament, think that we should be willing to call false teaching, heresy and apostasy for what it is, providing we do not use these terms lightly, flippantly or gleefully, but in a technical ‘biblical’ sense and with the gravity and seriousness they deserve. Sheehan notes that a great deal of discernment is required in these situations but ultimately there are only two types of errorist: ‘There are those who are in submission to the Apostles, yet for some reason are not doing what the Apostles had said, and there are those who are not in submission to the Apostles. Those who are biblically submissive, yet in error, and those who are biblically subversive and, therefore, in error.’²⁰

In terms of discipline and censure, I understand the difficulty of ecclesiological ‘translation’ from the New Testament local congregation setting, to today’s diverse ecclesiological structures, not to mention parachurch structures. However I still think there are clear principles that we can follow. I believe in ‘innocent until proven guilty’, and a biblical procedure for matters of discipline, involving relational contact, noting however that procedures must conclude at some point in time.

If the above analysis is correct, how might we attempt some positive construction which both enhances our understanding of the cross and its penal substitutionary nature, and which, for those who deny this truth, might even clear up some misconceptions which, God willing, ‘may grant them repentance leading to a knowledge of the truth, and that they may escape from the snare of the devil, after being captured by him to do his will’?

Part 2: Perspectives on Perspectivalism

Here I would like to draw on the theological approach called multi-perspectivalism or ‘symphonic’ theology, championed by Reformed theologians, John Frame and Vern Poythress respectively.²¹ There are several influences behind this approach, perhaps the strongest is Cornelius Van Til and in particular his thinking on the nature of religious language and epistemology. In terms of theology, multi-perspectivalism argues that there are both continuities and discontinuities between God’s knowledge and our own. Truth is one and yet only God is omniscient, seeing reality simultaneously from all possible perspectives. In summary multi-perspectivalism recognises that ‘because of our finitude, we need to look at things first from one perspective, then another. The more different perspectives we can incorporate into our formulations, the more likely those formulations will be biblically accurate.’²² Frame notes that the Bible presents doctrinal relationships perspectivally because this reflects the nature of the triune God, ‘God is one God in three persons; He is many attributes in one God-head—the eternal one and many. None of the persons is prior to the other, all are equally eternal, ultimate, absolute, glorious. None of the attributes is “prior to” any of the others; each is equally divine, inalienable, and necessary to God’s deity.’²³ Poythress echoes this:

different perspectives, though they start from different strands of biblical revelation, are in principle harmonizable with one another. We as human beings do not always see the harmony straight away. But we gain insights in the process of trying to see the same material from several different perspectives. We use what we have gained from one perspective to reinforce, correct, or improve what we understood through the other. I call this procedure symphonic theology because it is analogous to the blending of various musical instruments to express the variations of a symphonic theme.²⁴

In summarising the qualities and characteristics of perspectives, the following can be said:

• Each perspective has a separate focus of interest.
• Each perspective is, in the end, dependent on the others.
• Each perspective is, in principle, harmonizable with the others.
• Anyone perspective when expanded far enough involves the others and in fact encompasses the others. Each can be viewed as an aspect of the others.
• Because of the tendency to human oversight or one sided emphasis, each perspective is useful in helping us to notice facts and relationships that tend to be further in the background in the other perspectives.²⁵

I recognise that I have had to present this approach quickly and baldly. Because it is relevant to our discussion on the atonement I would like to note some qualifications given by Frame and Poythress. First, both are at pains to distinguish substantive disagreement from different, but complementary, perspectives. This approach is not relativistic in its understanding of truth. Second, there is not a flat undifferentiation between perspectives in Scripture. Frame, for example, has no difficulty in affirming contextual exegesis and a central message in the Bible which is essentially Christological. However he notes some qualifications:

• To understand the full scope of Christ’s redemptive work, we need the whole biblical canon.
• There is perspectival reciprocity between the central message of Scripture and its detailed particular messages. The central message is defined by the particular messages, and the particular messages must be undersrood in the light of the central message …
• Not all perspectives are equally prominent in Scripture or equally useful to the theologian. It is quite right for a theologian to prefer one perspective to another. He errs only when he gives to that perspective the kind of authority that is due only to the biblical canon as a whole, or when he seeks to exclude other perspectives that also have some validity.
• This sort of talk sometimes sounds like relativism. It is far from that, and the motive behind it is quite the opposite. The main point of my argument for perspectivalism is to defend the absolute authority of Scripture as a whole, against all the pretensions of theologians. It is Scripture that is our authoriry. It is not a ‘theology of’ something or other. Nor is it this or that ‘context’ within Scripture.²⁶

Similarly Poythress nuances his overall approach by arguing that: in the Bible there is an inequality of perspectives, with some being more prominent than others; not all perspectives are equally useful for all purposes; and it is misleading to say that all perspectives are valid: there are many unbiblical perspectives.²⁷

Is multi-perspectivalism such a revolutionary method and is this method legitimate when looking at the doctrine of the atonement? I say ‘no’ to the first question and ‘yes’ to the second. I would argue that what I am suggesting is merely explicitly drawing out what is implicitly present in some of the best recent evangelical expositions of the cross. Let us begin with Packer in his 1975 lecture.

The first thing to note is that the opening half of the lecture concentrates on methodological issues concerning epistemology and religious language with Packer arguing against an over-rationalistic formulation of penal substitution, and for the legitimate place of ‘mystery’ in our doctrinal formulations. Here Packer’s concern compliments multi-perspectivalism’s focus on religious language, God’s archetypal knowledge and our true but limited knowledge. Next, remember Packer’s helpful typology delineating three ways the church have explained the death of Christ, ‘each reflecting a particular view of the nature of God and our plight in sin, and of what is needed to bring us to God in the fellowship of acceptance on his side and faith and love on ours ….’ ²⁸ The first sees the cross having its effect entirely on men, and the second sees the cross having its effect primarily on external spiritual forces. Now note how Packer introduces the last alternative, which is in essence the penal substitution view:

… The third type of account denies nothing asserted by the other two views save their assumption that they are complete. It agrees that there is biblical support for all they say, but it goes further. It grounds man’s plight as a victim of sin and Satan in the fact that, for all God’s daily goodness to him, as a sinner he stands under divine judgement, and his bondage to evil is the start of his sentence, and unless God’s rejection of him is turned into acceptance he is lost forever. On this view, Christ’s death had its effect first on God, who was hereby propitiated (or, better, who hereby propitiated himself), and only because it had this effect did it become an overthrowing of the powers of darkness and a revealing of God’s seeking and saving love …²⁹

He continues:

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