There is perhaps nothing more central to Christian doctrine than the atonement of Jesus. Jesus is the resurrection, our promise and guarantee that we will one day be raised to new life. Paul declared that if Jesus is not raised from the dead, then we have no hope. John tells us that Jesus is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and we know that this sacrifice is vital for our peace with God. Whether a Christian adheres to a Christus Victor model of the atonement, a ransom model, or a Penal Substitutionary model, most Christians believe that the atonement of the Christ procured some actual thing - pardon of sin, peace with God, liberation from Satan, etc. 
 
My goal in this short essay is not to deny the idea that Jesus procured some immediate thing with his atonement. However, I do want to push back against what I believe is an extremely harmful notion many hold in regard to the death of Jesus - the notion that his death absolutely had to procure something in order to be worthwhile. Some Christians understandably want to protect the importance of Jesus and his work, and they believe that a theology such as the Moral Influence Theory of the atonement undermines the work of Jesus. This MIT declares that Jesus didn't owe Satan or God anything, but died only as a positive example for future Christians. Such a notion is abhorrent to many Christians today who believe that the MIT would take away the power, importance, and necessity of Jesus's work. 
 
While I don't adhere to the Moral Influence Theory alone, I do think that moral influence is an extremely important part of the work of Jesus. Unfortunately, because so many Christians want to protect one facet of the atonement which they think is central, they are willing to pendulum swing and deny the importance of the moral example Jesus was setting for us in his work of cross. It is my goal in the rest of this piece convince you of the importance of holding moral influence as one vital facet of your atonement theology. ​

I often read the Bible with an air of arrogance. Sometimes I elevate myself above the foolish Israelites who, even after seeing God part the red sea or deliver them from empire, still choose to rebel against this omnipotent and benevolent God. At other times I am appalled at the Ancient Near East’s barbaric practices like that of sacrificing their own children to the gods. Clearly, I am so much better than they are. But perhaps there is no greater area in which my pride is pandered than when reading about ancient peoples and idolatry. How is it that people could be so ignorant and foolish as to attempt to house their gods in inanimate blocks of wood or stone?
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A few weeks ago, I read George Orwell’s “Politics and the English Language.” Towards the end of the piece Orwell said something which slapped me in the face, as he revealed to me that I, in a way, am an idolater no better than those ignorant ancients depicted in the Bible. Orwell said,

“When you think of a concrete object, you think wordlessly, and then, if you want to describe the thing you have been visualizing, you probably hunt about till you find the exact words that seem to fit it. When you think of something abstract you are more inclined to use words from the start, and unless you make a conscious effort to prevent it, the existing dialect will come rushing in and do the job for you, at the expense of blurring or even changing your meaning. Probably it is better to put off using words as long as possible and get one’s meanings as clear as one can through pictures and sensations. Afterwards one can choose – not simply accept – the phrases that will best cover the meaning, and then switch round and decide what impression one’s words are likely to make on another person." ​

​The book of John is among one of four gospels in the New Testament, yet it is in a class of its own. While the other three gospels, Matthew, Mark, and Luke, are considered synoptic gospels, John is quite a bit different. John frames his gospel to accentuate various teachings not highlighted as much in the other gospels, particularly the teaching of the divinity of Jesus, the Christ. We get a glimpse of this elevation and framing from the very beginning of John's gospel as we see Jesus, the Word, residing with God and creating the universe. John's gospel is filled with this elevation and emphasis on the spiritual aspect of the good news of Jesus. Whereas Luke is more the historian with his focus on eyewitness accounts and social/political defense of Jesus and the early church (see "World Upside Down" and "Interweaving Innocence" for discussions of Acts and Luke), John is more the theologian.

Perhaps one of the most beautiful theological exhibitions in the book of John is found in chapter 3. Of course we are all familiar with verse 16, but what concerns us here is not verse 16's explanation of how our salvation obtains, but rather all that precedes the securing of salvation and instead answers the question, "what is obtained in our salvation?" Verses 3-7 are of particular interest here. They say,

 Jesus replied, “Very truly I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God unless they are born again.”

“How can someone be born when they are old?” Nicodemus asked. “Surely they cannot enter a second time into their mother’s womb to be born!”

Jesus answered, “Very truly I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God unless they are born of water and the Spirit. Flesh gives birth to flesh, but the Spirit[b] gives birth to spirit. You should not be surprised at my saying, ‘You[c] must be born again.’

Evolution is a big deal in my community. Just about everyone hates the idea, and if you don't hate it, you'd better not let anyone know you don't. As conservative theists, most of us have problems with evolution because it feels like a threat to religion. If nature can accomplish all this order on its own, then what need would there be for God? Those theists who do cling to evolution, however, argue that it really doesn't matter if evolution is true or not. Evolution doesn't necessarily take God out of the picture, because God would still have had to create all matter, create and fine tune all natural laws, and could still intervene in his creation as he sees fit. There is no problem with believing in evolution and a God who is active in the world. Just as we don't believe that God is literally focusing his power on keeping the earth in its orbit, since God had the foresight enough to create the law of gravity to do his bidding, so it could be with evolution. God gets what he wants out of the process because he front loaded the information. ​

​Three verses have long been troubling to me: Exodus 33:20, I Timothy 6:16, and John 1:18. Each of these verses declares that God cannot be seen, either because he is invisible and spirit, or because if we saw him we could no longer live. What is particularly troubling about these verses is that they seem patently false. Genesis 32:30 tells us that Jacob saw God face to face and Exodus 33:11 tells us that Moses spoke with God face to face. This is doubly troubling because the author of Exodus tells us that we can't live if we see God only 9 verses after telling us that Moses saw God face to face. 

Today in church the passage on Moses's inability to see God was brought up again, and a strange thought came to my mind. It struck me that not only did Moses and Jacob see God face to face, and arguably a few others, like Isaiah - but the New Testament tells us that humanity has now seen God face to face in Jesus. Jesus is the perfect representation and image of God (Col. 1:15 and Heb. 1:3), and Jesus told us that when we see him, we have seen the Father (Jn. 14:9). So humanity has seen God face to face, and we continue to see God in the life and teachings of Jesus. 

Many have seen God, yet we all have lived.

I find myself returning to contemplate the problem of evil time and time again. Maybe millennials (of which I barely make the cut) have a bigger hang-up with the way evil's existence seems to encroach on the possibility of a good God's existence, but I think the problem is much broader than one generation. Whether it's the death of a daughter leading Darwin to embrace his religious doubts, or the holocaust of a whole race which is remembered and lamented in the works of Elie Wiesel - each generation seems to have its own works and workers who wrestle with the reality of evil's existence. Evil is hard to stomach, and especially so if one is a Christian who proclaims the existence of an omnipotent, omniscient, and omnibenevolent God who supposedly despises evil. 

In response to the problem of evil Christian history has produced a number of defenses for God. These defenses are known as "theodicies." A theodicy doesn't claim to prove that God exists or that its explanation for evil's existence is the correct one, but it merely offers what is a possible explanation for evil's existence alongside a good God. If the theodicy's explanation is logically possible, then evil's existence is not incompatible with the existence of God, even if this particular explanation doesn't end up being the correct one. The goal is simply to show that the existence of a good God and evil aren't logically incompatible. At the moment, the most broadly accepted theodicy on the market is the free will theodicy as refined and presented by Alvin Plantinga. Plantinga argues that for a God to create a world in which his creatures loved him in a meaningful sense, then those creatures would need to have the choice not to love him. God could have created robots that would have never disobeyed him or done any evil thing, but in creating such a world, he would have created a world where true love was impossible. So while it is true that evil exists, it's only in a world where evil is possible that love can exist, and God deems that the existence of love is worth the price of allowing evil. 

The Free Will Theodicy (FWT) is a beautiful defense because it makes a lot of sense. Everyone would love a world without evil, but we recognize that we'd all likely prefer a world where we make meaningful choices to love than a world where we were programmed robots - even if the price of love was the existence of evil. Love is such a beautiful and powerful thing that we recognize evil pales in comparison to it. The FWT is a fantastic defense of God, though as with all arguments, there are some problems. But it isn't in the scope of this article to expound on this theodicy or defend it. Suffice it to say that this is the going theodicy in Christianity, particularly Western Christianity. With the acknowledgement of this broad Christian adherence to the FWT, what I want to do, then, is actually draw out some implications this theodicy has for two other Christian positions: nonviolence and Christian anarchism. ​

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One of the most important considerations prior to discussing anything is coming to an agreement as to the existence of truth. In an extremely relativistic society, one can’t just assume that truth is an agreed upon foundation. When coming to the discussion of materialistic atheism, both Christians and atheists would tend to agree that truth exists. To the atheist, truth is vital, as this truth is what guides lives, and this truth is what usurps God from his power as he no longer becomes a necessary explanation. It is by embracing science and its study of the natural laws and truths that we can fully know what is real and how we should act. ​In this way, atheists and Christians share much in common in their starting position, as both are rational positions. The major distinction lies in what evidence one allows based on certain presuppositions.