The Unwise God

Some of my friends--my spouse included--have given me a hard time for the number of times I start a sentence with 'In the first-century.' The initial context that the first Christians inhabited intrigues me. Recently, I've read a number of books on concepts of forgiveness among the Greeks and Romans to better understand how the typical guy on the street who didn't read (or even know about) what we call the Old Testament would have understood the offer that in a guy named Jesus was forgiveness of sins.

Seneca and Socrates, back to back, in Pergamon Museum, Berlin

One of the authors I read is Seneca--a contemporary of the Apostle Paul and a shaping influence in the Roman Empire. Seneca served as a tutor for Nero, which sounds like a bad role since most of us only know about the terrible ending to Nero's reign of megalomania and pyrotechnics.  But Nero started out a good emperor under the influence of Seneca. For the record, once Nero went totally nuts, Seneca was involved in a plot to assassinate him. For this, Seneca was forced to commit suicide by Nero in 65 AD; the same year that tradition says Nero killed the apostle Paul. Enough history lesson, I'll get on with the post.

Seneca was a Stoic philosopher, one of the worldviews mentioned when during Paul's interaction in Athens (Acts 17).  Seneca wrote a number of moral essays to Nero that have been preserved. One of these is titled "On Mercy." In this essay Seneca argues that giving people mercy is a good thing. But he considers giving people forgiveness a foolish thing. Mercy means that someone is guilty but is given a lesser punishment or perhaps no punishment. But, mercy still views the person as guilty.

He argues that forgiveness or pardon is foolishness, since it sees a guilty person as now innocent. One of the things that bothered Seneca about forgiveness was that mercy gives one options. Mercy gives one freedom to determine what punishment if any will be exacted. Forgiveness takes away the options. Once you forgive someone there is no punishment that can be given.

Consider his words below.


“Pardon is given to a man who ought to be punished; but a wise man does nothing which he ought not to do, omits to do nothing which he ought to do; therefore he does not remit a punishment which he ought to exact. But in a more honorable way he will bestow upon you that which you wish to obtain by pardon; for the wise man will show mercy, be considerate, and rectify; he will do the same that he would do if pardoned, and yet he will not pardon, since he who pardons admits that he has omitted to do something which he ought to have done.” (Seneca, On Mercy 2.7.1–2)

Seneca would have understood the offer of forgiveness in the name of Jesus as foolishness (cf. 1 Cor 1:23; Acts 17:18-20)--something that a wise person would not do. The idea that God would forgive people would have been outside what Seneca could see as wise. Why wouldn't God just be merciful to people but continue to hold over their heads the reality of their guilt and a fear of later condemnation? Why wouldn't God just be merciful and give a lesser punishment to his people? These options would have been wiser in Seneca's eyes.

Yet, in Jesus an offer exists for forgiveness. The earliest followers of Jesus could stand in the streets of Jerusalem and say to the very people that killed Jesus. "The God of our ancestors raised Jesus from the dead—whom you killed by hanging him on a cross. God exalted him to his own right hand as Prince and Savior that he might bring Israel to repentance and forgive their sins." (Acts 5:30-31)


I'm grateful for forgiveness--that God would no longer hold my own guilt over my head. I can understand that Seneca and others may think it foolish, perhaps unbelievable. But, I'm grateful that "there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus." (Romans 8:1).

Simply Saying

This morning, I finished reading a classic text in New Testament theology, Forgiveness and Reconciliation by Vincent Taylor. Dr Taylor was a Methodist evangelist in early 20th century Britain, who by the time of his death in 1968 had become one of the leading New Testament scholars of his day. The book examines a great breadth of issues in New Testament theology related to the issue of God forgiving people and reconciling them to a relationship with him.

One of the final paragraphs summarizes his quest.
"The test of a theology is the extent to which, after full investigation, it permits us to describe the Gospel. We ask, therefore, What is the Gospel, and in what manner does it depend on the work of God in Christ? Perhaps, the final test of the theologian would be his ability to write a tract."

In Dr Taylor's opinion the truest test of a robust theology is that it expresses the gospel clearly and simply, especially to those still outside the faith.

What do you think about his statement that "the final test of a theologian would be [their] ability to write a tract"? What makes it difficult to keep things simple and clear? What attracts us to complexity?

When I was in seminary many times I heard people taking shots at tracts like The Four Spiritual Laws. Have you looked at the theology expressed in tracts like Would You Like to Know God Personally? or Two Ways to Live?

Don't Assume

Last weekend I was speaking at a student leadership retreat for the Cru movement at U of Texas. Our family loved the opportunity to join some great students and staff members for the day. Following one of my talks a student approached me. He said he enjoyed the talk and had a question about something I said. Now, the range of meaning for that last statement is something that causes a moment of anxiety in me. While it could mean that they just have a question, many times it means "I have a bone to pick with something you said." Well, I was delighted to know it was the former.
The young fraternity guy referenced a story in my talk where I asked a college athlete if they'd like to know more about a relationship with God. The story continues with the athlete eventually becoming a follower of Jesus. Frat guy wanted to know what I said to the football player. I wondered what he meant. I started to answer him, but he said "no, that's not what I'm asking. I'd like to know what you said to him."
"Oh, you mean you'd like to know what I said to him about how someone begins a relationship with God?"
"Yes, that's what I'd like to know."

So, I proceeded to share with him a booklet that I shared with the athlete that describes how someone can have a relationship with God. I assumed that I had gotten to the root of the frat guys question. I assumed that he wanted to talk to some of his friends about Christ and wanted to know how. Why else would he be at a Cru retreat?

Reflecting back, I wonder if the guy had a relationship with God himself, or if he was asking me to tell him how to have a relationship. I may never know. I assumed I had heard his question. But did I?