4 Ways Table Manners Can Teach Us about Spiritual Hospitality

When it comes to understanding our redemption, many evangelicals emphasize the doctrine of penal substitutionary atonement (PSA). Most see repeated evidence in Scripture that Jesus takes the penalty (P) sinners deserve, as their substitute (S), to atone (A) for them. This rises not just from explicit New Testament evidence but also from the way Old Testament sacrifice foreshadows Jesus’s death: An animal takes the penalty (P) sinners deserve, as their substitute (S), to atone (A) for them. Andrew Remington Rillera, assistant professor of biblical studies and theology at The King’s University in Edmonton, Alberta, strongly disagrees with this understanding. In Lamb of the Free: Recovering the Varied Sacrificial Understandings of Jesus’s Death, he argues that PSA is a thoroughly unbiblical idea. His own approach to atonement is closest to the recapitulation understanding of Christ’s work that Irenaeus outlined, though many believe this view is compatible with PSA (see works by McNall and McKnight). Rillera doesn’t. He argues that PSA is a foreign concept to the Old Testament’s sacrificial system (chap. 1–4) and that even the New Testament doesn’t support PSA (chap. 5–8). Though I find Rillera’s overall argument against PSA unpersuasive, I want to begin by noting the area I found most exemplary: the emphasis on our union with Christ in his death and resurrection. That union’s rich blessings should be regularly highlighted, and I’m grateful the book has done so. For me, it made union with Christ even more beautiful. As for the book’s main thesis, I’ll consider three of its major claims against PSA. Claim #1: Sacrifice Isn’t About Death Rillera’s argument begins by asserting that “there is no such thing as a ‘substitutionary death’ sacrifice in the Torah” (10). This assertion relies on the idea that Old Testament sacrifice is about presenting the animal’s life, not bringing about its death, and that Leviticus therefore “conceptualize[s] the death of the sacrificial animal as ‘not-a-killing’” (17, emphasis original). If this is true, then Old Testament sacrifice isn’t about the animal dying in the offerer’s place, and the ritual doesn’t foreshadow Jesus’s death on the cross. To show that Old Testament sacrifice isn’t about death, Rillera argues in part that “the death of the animal—the slaughter itself—is given no ritual or theological meaning by any biblical text” (20). In support, he notes ways that sacrificial texts seem not to emphasize the animal’s slaughter but rather emphasize acts associated with the altar and performed by the priest, like burning the meat and presenting the blood. To him, this suggests the slaughter itself is insignificant. But even a quick read of the key sacrificial texts in Leviticus 1–7 shows an interesting pattern: They regularly specify that the animal’s slaughter must take place “before the LORD” or “in front of the tent” where he dwells (1:5, 11; 3:8, 13; 4:4, 15, 24; 6:25). Leviticus 17:3–4 expands on this, emphasizing that the animal must be slaughtered before the Lord to count as being presented to him. In short, if it’s not slaughtered before the Lord, it’s not slaughtered to the Lord. There’s no option for slaughtering the animal at one place and offering it at another. Slaughtering and offering go hand in hand. And that means that “the death of the animal—the slaughter itself”—isn’t insignificant but central to offering the animal. Claim #2: Sacrificial Atonement Only Relates to Cleansing Scholars agree that one of the only verses explaining how sacrificial atonement works is Leviticus 17:11: “The life of the body is in the blood, and I myself have given it to you on the altar to make atonement [kipper] for your lives, for it is the blood that makes atonement [kipper] by means of the life” (my translation). But, as Rillera notes, scholars debate whether the Hebrew word kipper—typically translated “to make atonement”—refers here to ransom or cleansing or some combination of the two (122). For Rillera, the better meaning is cleanse (or in his language, “decontaminate”), whereas some combination of the two appears to me to account best for the data. Ransom We begin with ransom, which in the Bible refers to a payment delivering guilty people from a penalty—often death—that they would otherwise have to pay (Ex. 21:30; 30:12). Scholars from a wide array of backgrounds understand kipper in Leviticus 17:11 to refer to ransom (see Levine, 115; Milgrom, 707–8; Moffitt, 263–64). This is because the exact phrase “to [kipper] for your lives” found in 17:11 occurs in only two other places, both of which use kipper to refer to “ransom” (Ex. 30:15; Num. 31:50). In response, Rillera argues that Exodus 30:15 and Numbers 31:50 occur in contexts about money, but Leviticus 17:11 doesn’t. The implication: If the monetary concept is absent, ransom cannot be in view. What this misses is that in the biblical world, a ransom isn’t limited to money. A ransom can be the giving of one living being in place of another, such as one people group being given as a “ransom . . . in exchange for [the] life” of another people group (Isa. 43:3–4). So the question isn’t “Is this a monetary context?” but “Is this a ransom context?” For the sins and major impurities requiring sacrificial atonement, the answer is “Yes, this is a ransom context.” That’s because sins and major impurities share an important similarity: Both endanger. Sin obviously endangers because sinners are liable to God’s punishment and need ransom. But major impurities (like that coming from leprosy) also endanger and require ransom since they pollute not only people but also holy items (Lev. 16:16). This pollution results in death if not properly addressed (15:31). In either case—sin or impurity—the offerer is endangered, meaning we have a context requiring ransom. Kipper in 17:11 is therefore well understood as relating to ransom. Instead of the offerer’s lifeblood, the animal’s lifeblood is given in death as the ransom payment. And this means all the elements of PSA are in place: The animal experiences the death the offerer deserves (the penalty) in the offerer’s place (as a substitute), to reconcile the offerer to God (for atonement). Cleansing What about the cleansing aspect? This is where a second similarity exists between the sins and major impurities requiring sacrifice: Both defile. Major impurities obviously defile since the offerer needs cleansing, but sins also defile the sinner and need cleansing: “For on this day shall atonement be made for you to cleanse you. You shall be clean before the LORD from all your sins” (16:30). Instead of the offerer’s lifeblood, the animal’s lifeblood is given in death as the ransom payment. In short, sins and major impurities both endanger (requiring ransom) and pollute (requiring cleansing). It’s a two-pronged problem requiring a two-pronged solution: ransom and cleansing. Sacrifice can achieve both because the blood is a dual-function agent: It’s both the ultimate ransoming agent (17:11) and the ultimate cleansing agent (see 8:15). When sin is the focus, the ransoming function comes to the fore, and the offerer is “forgiven” (4:20, 26, 31). When impurity is the focus, the cleansing function comes to the fore, and the offerer is made “clean” (12:7; 14:20). But both ransom and cleansing are happening in each context because both are needed and the blood accomplishes both. In the context of atoning sacrifices, kipper refers to a “purifying ransom” and a “ransoming purification.” And because of this ransoming element, PSA is at the heart of sacrificial atonement. Claim #3: If Jesus’s Death Is Participatory, It Can’t Be Substitutionary Rillera argues that New Testament authors understand Jesus’s death as a “participatory phenomenon” that believers “are called to share in experientially,” as shown by verses speaking of us “picking up our cross” and following Jesus (Mark 8:34) or speaking of our union with Christ in his death by faith (Rom. 6:3–8) (7). Rillera then argues that ff this is true, then Jesus’s death cannot be a substitutionary phenomenon since (according to Rillera) participation and substitution exclude one another by definition. Even if we grant that the ideas of participation and substitution exclude one another (which I doubt), the book’s approach rests on a problematic assumption: When describing spiritual realities, the Bible can’t use different ideas or images that exclude one another. This assumption doesn’t hold. For example, when describing a believer’s salvation, Paul sometimes uses adoption imagery (Gal. 4:5) and other times resurrection imagery (Col. 2:13). These images exclude one another by definition: One centers on a living person being adopted, the other on a corpse being made alive. Why does Paul do this? Because there is a richness to salvation that is best communicated by using multiple images, even if they’re in logical tension with one another. And if Paul is happy to do this when describing salvation, he can surely do likewise when describing the events bringing salvation to pass. This argument has important implications for a text like Romans 5:7–8, where Paul argues, “7 For one will scarcely die for a righteous person—though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die—8 but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” Rillera grants that verse 7 is speaking of substitutionary death, but argues that verse 8 can’t be doing the same. Why? Because Paul uses participatory language to describe Jesus’s death in Romans 6, and Rillera assumes Paul cannot speak of Jesus’s death as both substitutionary and participatory since these images exclude one another. But as seen above, this assumption doesn’t hold, and the simplest explanation remains the most likely: Verses 7 and 8 are both speaking of substitutionary death. 7 For one will scarcely die for [= in place of] a righteous person— though perhaps for [= in place of] a good person one would dare even to die— 8 but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for [= in place of] us. Paul is clear: Jesus dies as a substitute for sinners. He is equally clear that Christ’s death reconciles sinners to God (v. 10), meaning this is substitutionary atonement. And since Paul emphasizes in Romans that sin results in death (Rom. 1:32; 5:12–21; 6:23; 7:5, 11), the implication is straightforward: By suffering death in place of sinners, Jesus is suffering their penalty. In Romans 5:7–8, we have PSA in its fullness: Jesus taking the penalty sinners deserve as their substitute, in this way reconciling them to God. First Importance In an extended review, I interact with most of the book’s other arguments and discuss various motivations Rillera identifies that led him to write a book against PSA. Paul is clear: Jesus dies as a substitute for sinners. But in this short review, I hope to have shown that the biblical text doesn’t support three of the book’s major claims and that the relevant biblical passages affirm that PSA is central to the Bible’s description of Old Testament sacrifice and of Jesus’s death on our behalf. Contrary to what Lamb of the Free argues, penal substitutionary atonement is a very biblical idea. Why does this matter? In summarizing the gospel, Paul begins, “What I received I passed on to you as of first importance: that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures” (1 Cor. 15:3, NIV). If Christ’s death for our sins is where the gospel begins, getting it right matters deeply indeed.

I’ve never thought of skepticism as a virtue, but we live in a world that seems to demand it. In the fourth grade, I rode home on the bus and traded a piece of amethyst for two small red gems. “They’re rubies,” my friend said. “How do you know?” I asked. “My dad told me,” he said. I got home and asked my dad to validate the claim. He took a hammer, set one of the “rubies” on our garage floor, and tapped it gently. It shattered. “This is polished sea glass,” he said. I’d been certain I stepped off the bus that afternoon with rubies, but I’d been swindled. It’d be easy to teach a child in this situation to be skeptical: Don’t take people at their word. And that mantra easily becomes a worldview that paints every experience with a shadow of doubt. The same can happen with our faith in Christ. Whether we’re new believers or seasoned saints, we may be tempted to ask if doubt and skepticism are hallmarks of reliable faith. For example, is it good for me to question my salvation because I professed to believe in Christ as a 7-year-old who was afraid of dying? If I was motivated by a fear of death rather than a love for Christ, does that mean my salvation isn’t sure? Am I called to be a skeptic about the validity of my salvation until I’m absolutely certain of my faith’s purity? We find an answer to these questions in Herman Bavinck’s little book The Certainty of Faith. Questions of personal assurance can be complex. The Bible speaks about the inner witness of the Spirit (Rom. 8:16). It also makes clear that true faith is evidenced in obedience (James 2:17). But as Bavinck makes clear, our assurance of faith finds its ultimate grounding outside of us in the certain promises of God.  Bavinck’s Answer The Certainty of Faith is lesser known among Bavinck’s works, but it shouldn’t be. Though the Dutch theologian had it penned and published in 1901, it reads as if it were written for 21st-century Christians in the age of skepticism. Bavinck’s discussion of both personal assurance and the reliability of God’s promises is refreshingly biblical and profoundly encouraging. Bavinck declares, [Faith] is the return of the confidence which right-minded children place in their father. In the disposition and condition of the soul on which Holy Scripture stamps the name of faith, [faith’s] certainty of itself is enclosed. First of all, there is the certainty regarding the truth of the promises of God given to us in the gospel, but then also the certainty that we personally participate in those promises out of grace. . . .  Faith is certainty, and as such excludes all doubt. For Bavinck, true faith puts aside skepticism in all its forms, whether that’s overactive introspection or doubts about the Bible’s reliability. Moreover, he roots our faith’s certainty not in an internal conviction or feeling, nor in evidence judged by human reason, but in the reliable witness of God’s external work and Word. In other words, our certainty ultimately lies outside us. Here are three reasons that’s good news. 1. Certain faith in God’s promises offers rest from constant questioning. Many treat skepticism and doubt as virtues. They say these protect us from naivete, from being swindled. But skepticism isn’t good in its own right. When elevated too highly, it leads to soul sickness. While doubt has its uses, it can also deaden us to faith’s life-giving power. Whether we’re new believers or seasoned saints, we may be tempted to ask if doubt and skepticism are hallmarks of reliable faith. Bavinck wrote of his generation, “A lust for doubt became the soul-sickness of our age, dragging a string of moral woes and miseries along with it.” He might as well have written that today. What if when we open the Bible, we forget about being swindled and simply receive God’s jaw-dropping promises? God’s grace will always sound unbelievable, but that’s because the truth comes to rags and offers riches, not because we’re duped by a fairy tale. Bavinck reminds us that we can discard worldly skepticism and take up faith in who God says he is. What will we find when we do this? Rest. “Certainty is rest, peace, and bliss; while doubt, suspicion, and opinion are always accompanied by a bit of unease and unrest.” Given today’s landscape of anxiety and angst, we’re desperate for the rest of certainty. Thankfully, our constant questioning will evaporate in the light of God’s certain Word. 2. Externally directed certainty shows us the goodness of dependence. We not only live in a culture that worships autonomy and independence, but we also seem convinced that everything we believe requires internal validation—something we contribute. Our faith depends on our feelings and experiences. We strive to feel full of vigor and hope. When we don’t, we guilt-trip ourselves in despair. But Bavinck points to the great news that faith’s certainty doesn’t depend on us: “Holy Scripture never leaves believers to depend on themselves. It always binds them to the objective word.” Faith depends on what God says and what Christ did, not on how we feel. Affections are the fruit of faith, not its root. That’s liberating. We’re not trapped by our emotions and sensations, never fenced in by our feelings. There is always a way out, and that way is paved with words—God’s words. Jesus said that God’s Word is truth (John 17:17). And in that truth is freedom. As Bavinck put it, “Truth is always life, always sets free, and always causes us to rule as kings over what it irradiates with its light.” Far better to store certainty in the light of God’s revealed truth than in our fickle feelings. It’s good for us to depend on what God says rather than trying to self-validate every belief. 3. Certain faith is the foundation for unity and love. Though we live today with an acute awareness of how divided and fragmented the church can be, our certain faith can be a gathering place for weary saints. “What divides the church internally,” Bavinck writes, “no matter how weighty it may be, is always less than what binds and unites her. The more unbelief becomes aware of its power and the bolder its actions grow, the more the Christian church closes her ranks against a common enemy.” Our certainty makes room for communion, a circle of saints who gather to identify unbelief as the chief evil (Matt. 13:58; Mark 6:6). There we can be “eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace” (Eph. 4:3). Our certainty in faith has great power to bring us together and to give us concrete opportunities to love and encourage one another. Our certainty makes room for communion, a circle of saints who gather to identify unbelief as the chief evil. Bavinck says faith’s certainty “is by nature heroic and fearless, though there be as many devils as tiles on the roof.” Each of us has devils on the rooftop, things prying into the cracks of our hope and faith. But Spirit-gifted certainty can be the broomstick we use to knock on the ceiling and cast down all the devils of doubt. Certainty can bring us the peace we so desperately long for. We’re all tempted to go looking for validation for our faith everywhere except in God’s Word. That’s what our skeptical age has taught us—don’t take people at their word. But God has something far better for us than skepticism: a certain faith. Here is good news: No human word, no result of scientific investigation, no ideal fashioned by the imagination, no proposition built by human reasoning can be the foundation of our hope for eternity. For all these things are shaky and fallible; they cannot support the edifice of hope, and will soon collapse into ruin. By its very nature, faith—that is, religious faith—can only rest upon a word or promise of God. Thank God for the certainty of his divine promise.

As our children grow and mature, our anxieties as parents often grow right alongside them. How do we navigate concerns about activities, dating, cell phones, social media, and faith questions? In this conversation recorded at TGC25, Mike and Melissa Kruger consider biblical principles that serve as the foundation for the practical decisions we make as parents, while anchoring our hopes and expectations on Christ rather than on our child’s behavior or our perfection as parents. In This Episode 00:00 – The importance of parenting with hope 07:39 – Principle 1: God-oriented hope 11:28 – Principle 2: Follow God first 20:13 – Principle 3: The power of the basics 27:50 – Principle 4: Parental warmth promotes healthy community 32:30 – Principle 5: Lead with conversation, not command 36:58 – Principle 6: Embrace difficulties and suffering 42:36 – Principle 7: Leave room for doubts and questions Resource Mentioned: Parenting with Hope by Melissa Kruger SIGN UP for one of our newsletters to stay informed about TGC’s latest resources. Help The Gospel Coalition renew and unify the contemporary church in the ancient gospel: Give today. Don’t miss an episode of The Gospel Coalition Podcast: Apple Podcasts Spotify YouTube

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