confessions of a liberal christian and authority of the bible and substitutionary atonement

I have been avoiding the issue too long, but I will confess it here. I, who was reared in an atmosphere of genial New England Congregationalism; who converted to Evangelicalism in CA far before it was cool to do so (1969); who abandoned this same Evangelicalism over a 20-year period beginning in the late 1970s just as the rest of America was discovering this faith expression; and who thought that God and I parted ways about 2000, have decided that it isn't so. I am finding that my Christian identity is stitched to my soul, somewhat like a Jewish person, who may or may not be an atheist, still knows that s/he is Jewish. I am a Christian, for better or for worse, though I am still figuring out what that means. This and the next essay take a stab at saying a few things I don't believe and that I do believe. Like the Scotsman who took great pride in pointing out to visitors the churches that WEREN'T his, however, there will be more things here that I don't believe (or don't know if I believe) than I affirm.

What I Don't Know or Believe

1. The first thing I don't know is whether there is a God listening in at the other end of the tin can and rope. I have lived long enough, read enough (maybe too much), thought about it a great deal, and concluded that the evidence for and against God's existence and care for the world is just about in equipoise. I have long ago discarded the notion that a certain kind of feeling is to be associated with God's presence or existence. I realize that I can often manufacture that same kind of feeling with M & M's or with a really nice shower after a workout. So, God's existence has to depend on something other than a feeling. I, for one, don't particularly find evidence for God in religious communities because you can explain most of what you see by some very common human categories. In other words, you don't need to posit a God to explain what happens at church. But I don't find God also in my alone moments at night or when I am writing or thinking. As a matter of fact, I don't know what I take to be evidence of God's existence.

2. I also don't know what I believe about Jesus. I have no problem with his historicity or the authenticity of his teaching or the basic credibility of the Gospel narratives. I spent a decade working through all those problems and I will say that the Gospels give us different "takes" on Jesus by people who may not have known him personally but have good enough stuff to go on that they give us a faithful narrative. I know I don't believe in a substitutionary atonement or that Jesus was some kind of "penal sacrifice" for us. Sorry for the theological terms, but I have lived in arcane worlds a very long time. To be more clear, I really have problems with the fact that Jesus' death has anything to do with forgiving my sins. First of all, though I have lots of jerk tendencies, I don't really think that I need a blanket forgiveness of sins. I have my share of regrets and believe I have made a ton of bad decisions, but there is no way I believe that someone who was put to death 2000 years ago has anything to do with forgiving bad decisions or the guilt felt because of them today. It simply makes no sense to me.

And, if you try to maintain some kind of theory of the atonement, that Jesus' death was "effective" in some way to forgive sins, I have a bunch of questions for you, starting with death and blood. Believe me, I will put you through your paces. And I will not let you cry "faith" or "mystery" and let you off the hook.

3. I don't believe that the Bible, as a whole, was inspired. Frankly, I don't especially know what "inspiration" means. I know that I write a lot, that many of my essays are workmanlike, expressing my thoughts on a subject with clarity (I hope) and precision, but in general I don't think of myself as "inspired." Sometimes, though, I feel that an essay or two I write is so good, is so "on," that I am "inspired" at that moment. I have felt the feeling, and a few special friends know that about me. But, when I look at the Bible, I have mixed feelings. I am moved by the poetry of Job and the coruscatingly hopeful words of Isaiah in 40-55. I am sometimes charmed by the creative flights of Paul, who in many ways isn't very good at self-examination. Jesus remains an alluring figure to me, though as a fellow teacher, I really can't explain why so many intelligent people seemed to misunderstand him if we call him a good teacher. I sometimes think that Jesus might not get tenure today in an Amerian university.

But, having said these things, I have to confess that a lot of the Bible doesn't touch me anymore. This needs to be understood in the context of my having gotten the highest score ever on the Presbyterian Bible Content exam while in Seminary--that is, for years I drunk in the Bible with the paroxysmal craving that a dipsomaniac has for the next drink. I seriously thought at one time in my life that there was as much "God-breathed-ness" in a geneaology of II Chronicles as in John 3:16. But frankly the Bible is primarily useful to me now because it provides me with an inescapable mental parade of images and phrases that I find useful in speaking and writing. I still love the Bible (but usually only small portions of it), and comb its original languages, but I do so mostly to find interesting ways of expressing things and challenging takes on problems (like the problem of pain in Job) rather than to find that" guidance for living" or "doctrinal truth." Weird biblical phrases always stick out in my mind, like limbs out of Procrutes' bed, and I am becoming more and more comfortable in just saying them, even in public.

I think I need another essay to tell you a few more things.

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