Category: Theology

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Green Grass and Rocky Deserts

By Amy Spiegel

A few years back, I did a Bible study on the life of Moses. Throughout the study, I struggled with a bit of snobbery against the Israelites who seemed like the most pathetic band of “stiff-necked” people ever collected. God turns the Nile into blood, sends a variety of pests to plague the Israelites’ oppressors, and tops it off with the incredible deliverance of the firstborn sons of his people. Then He sends them off into the desert and at the first sign of trouble, they panic and say they wish they were back on the brick-making assembly line. Granted, the first sign of trouble was the entire Egyptian army herding them into the Red Sea.  Nevertheless…this event does not bode well for the Israelites’ journey to the Promised Land and what might have been a quick trip there turns into a disaster that makes National Lampoon’s Family Vacation look like a dream excursion and highlights the need to consult Mapquest before setting out on any journey. This pattern of miraculous works followed by tests of faith is repeated throughout all of their sad wanderings to the point where one considers taking Moses aside and saying “Maybe you should reconsider God’s offer to, shall we say, wipe the slate clean with this lot and start afresh.” Seriously, herding cats would have to be a more rewarding vocation. But eventually they arrive in Canaan, establish the nation of Israel and begin their whole dysfunctional pattern again:  miraculous deliverance, test of faith, scoring a big “F” on the test, divine discipline, repentance, miraculous deliverance, and so on. 1500 years later, enter Jesus. Sent as the ultimate Savior, foreshadowed by Moses, he collects a group of followers who seem to be direct descendants of the knuckleheads who gave Moses such a hard time. Obviously, Jesus had the whole “omniscience” thing going on, so at this point one has to begin to question God’s purpose rather than the knuckleheads’ capacity for understanding.

There is definitely a temptation to feel a sense of superiority in reading about the Israelites’ rebellion issues or the Gospels’ descriptions of the disciples’ lack of comprehension (I mean, really guys, I understand when Jesus says “Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the desert, so the Son of Man must be lifted up” that there might be some room for interpretation, but when He says “The Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected by the elders, chief priests and teachers of the law, and he must be killed and on the third day be raised to life,” did that really leave you scratching your heads and thinking “Hmmm, wonder what He means by that?) I have often wished to be among the few who traveled in the desert with Moses, waiting for that moment when he draws the line in the sand (literally) proclaiming “Whoever is for the LORD, come to me.” I am so ridiculously (and unrealistically) confident that I would be among the first to jump aboard the Moses Express to Godly Obedience. I have also fantasized, as perhaps many of you have, about being among Jesus’ disciples. Maybe not one of the twelve, but somewhere in the back row, waiting for a characteristically cryptic Jesus question, ready to raise my hand in fine Sunday School fashion and yell “Oh, oh! I know!”

Something has recently struck me though in regards to my desire to experience the stories of the Bible first hand. According to the Savior I so desire to see, I am in a better spot today. When speaking of His ascension, Jesus says He is going away so that the Holy Spirit can come. It doesn’t appear that He was giving us something second best, a sort of spiritual teddy bear to keep us company until He gets back. If we believe the doctrine of the Trinity, He is giving us something equally good. So why do I begrudgingly accept the indwelling of God as if this were a consolation prize? I suppose it has a great deal to do with the limitations of our physicality. We have a great deal of difficulty valuing the unseen over the material. And yet, perhaps the Israelites would lie in their tents at night whispering, peering over to our side of the fence, saying “If only we had God living inside our hearts rather than in the tabernacle. Then we could obey.” I suppose it is our nature to constantly suffer from the “grass is always greener” syndrome. Fortunately, however, we all will someday meet in the middle and bask in the eternal glory of God where all good things meet. In heaven, by God’s grace, I will kiss the feet of Jesus, and the Israelites, who, despite their bad sense of direction, have beaten me there by a few thousand years, will get their indwelling Spirit. Until then, I will try to be content with my allotted grass and look forward to greener pastures ahead rather than longing to be back in rocky deserts.

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Hell and the Undermining of Heavenly Happiness

By Jim Spiegel

Lately, I’ve been pondering some of Thomas Talbott’s arguments against the traditional doctrine of hell (in his 1990 Faith and Philosophy essay “The Doctrine of Everlasting Punishment”).  He makes many interesting points, both in criticism of eternal conscious torment and in defense of universalism.  One of the things he discusses is how damnation of the lost will affect those who go to heaven.  I’m sure that most Christians have wondered how we could be truly happy in heaven if we knew that some of our loved ones were suffering the agonies of hell.  Talbott addresses a few popular lines of response to this problem.

First, some argue that when we get to heaven we will be see the justice in God’s damnation of our loved ones, so it won’t cause us sorrow or otherwise undermine our happiness.  But Talbott notes that seeing the justice in our loved ones’ punishment would not eliminate the sadness of their plight.  After all, even when our loved ones suffer just punishment in this life, we are still reasonably sorrowful about it.  Moreover, we could still regret that God did not move in the hearts of our loved ones to prompt repentance in them as he did those of us who are redeemed.

A second way of dealing with this problem is to propose that God will change our attitude towards our lost loved ones.  In short, God will turn our love for them into hatred.  We will despise them for their wickedness, just as God does (assuming that God truly hates those he damns, as the traditional view seems to entail). This approach is even more problematic, however, since (1) God commands us to love others, even our enemies, and (2) our love for those closest to us is so tied up with who we are that to so dramatically change such attitudes and affections would be to fundamentally alter one’s character.

So if these lines of response are of no help in explaining how we could be happy in heaven despite the on-going agonies of some of our loved ones, then what alternative explanation is more promising?  If there are no better approaches, then chalk this up as another point against the doctrine of eternal conscious torment.  

Talbott recognizes that affirming the eventual annihilation of the damned does circumvent this problem, which is somewhat of a relief to me, as a conditional immortalist.  Still, his analysis left me wondering whether even conditional immortalism supplies a sufficient shield against this problem.  After all, might we not also be saddened that some of our loved ones were destroyed and that we will never see them again?  This, too, appears to undermine our heavenly happiness.  Clearly, the problem is not as severe for conditional immortalism as it is for the traditional view of hell.  Given conditionalism, at least the sufferings of your loved ones will eventually end.  Not so for the traditionalist, whose loved ones’ unspeakable agony will continue for eternity.

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A Lifetime of Lent

By Amy Spiegel

Approximately three days into the Lenten season this year, I began my sad dance with legalism. Like troops circling the enemy, I have poked around my commitment’s defenses to see where there might be a weak point. I have chosen to give up something somewhat vague for Lent and so there is a little wiggle room as to what qualifies as prohibited and what is permissible. I didn’t intentionally choose something ambiguous; I am actually much more of a black and white gal. In fact, I often feel that my Lenten “sacrifice” chooses me rather than the other way around. A few weeks before Ash Wednesday, I start taking stock of my crutches—those little luxuries that pop into my head at times of stress and seem to say “Don’t worry. I will make it all better.” It is terrifically pathetic how much comfort and satisfaction I can get from such a fleeting snack food or how inconsequential life’s problems become at the end of a good Masterpiece Theater presentation of Jane Austen and the like (and frankly it doesn’t even have to be that good). What is even more pathetic is how slow I am to consider going to our true source of comfort and satisfaction? Why would I want to pray or read the Bible when I can eat a Reese’s Cup or watch Persuasion for the hundredth time? Why cry out to the Lord of heaven and earth when you can tear into all that peanutty goodness hidden in a wondrous chocolate shell?

A few thoughts have struck me afresh this Eastertide as I have pondered the triviality of what I have sworn to forgo for the next 4 weeks (4 weeks and 2 days to be precise but who’s counting?…other than me, that is). One is the ridiculous amounts of freedom we are granted as Christians. Many, both inside and out of the church, would like to reduce our faith to a bunch of restrictive “dos” and “don’ts” to be obeyed. But my desire to wiggle out from underneath my self-imposed restrictions only goes to show how rebellious my heart truly is. I have a refrigerator full of food and drink that I am free to eat—surprised that I gave up something food related?—and yet all I can focus on are the things that I can’t have. My kids are often amazed, and not a little angry, at Adam and Eve’s choice to eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil when they had all the other trees to pick from. And yet our ancestors’ attitude is reflected in our own ingratitude for our many blessings and that hankering we all feel for just a little of the grass on the other side of the fence. In Christ, we find true freedom and yet complain that becoming what we were created to be is too restrictive.

Along with pondering the insignificance of our sacrifices, I have been thunderstruck anew with the enormity of Christ’s sacrifice for our sake. Over the last week, I have been thinking about his life on earth and its implications. In thinking of Jesus’ life as a sort of 33-year Lent, his human experience has taken on a different meaning for me. I think I am self-disciplined indeed when I swear off Diet Coke for 40 days and yet Jesus left the banquet halls of heaven to eat among fishermen and carpenters. I complain when my knees feel a bit achy and yet the Son left a glorious existence to inhabit an earthly body that must have felt torturously confining and frail. Each day of His life was a fast from close fellowship with the Father and Spirit. The enduring of each insult or failure to show Him proper respect an act of humility that we cannot begin to comprehend. Of all the paradoxes of the Bible, this servant King must surely take the prize.

Now Christ is in heaven, receiving all the glory and honor that is due Him. And soon we here left behind will honor Him through the celebration of Easter. I hope, however, that I can find increasing freedom in obedience and that I can honor Him with my heart not just my actions. Too often I fear I care more about the outer trappings than the inner temple. Like a defective Reese’s Cup, I hide my hollow center with an attractive wrapper and chocolate shell. But I want to be the real thing and by God’s grace, someday I will be. Until then, I will keep plodding along in my own lifetime of Lent, awaiting my own day of resurrection Celebration.

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Death by Easy Craft

By Amy Spiegel

Our five-year-old daughter Maggie is, to my great delight, a very independent self-entertainer. She can easily create and populate her own little worlds with all sorts of imaginative characters. (Before you become too envious, the creation of these “little” worlds often involves the dumping out of every drawer and shelf in her room, and cleaning up is not her strong suit.) She is greatly skilled in the arts of blanket fort building, block city building and, most importantly, paper cutting. So when a friend recommended a book chocked full of “easy crafts,” I happily procured the book for her. (It’s a great book made by Kumon—My Book of Easy Crafts available on Amazon for only $6.95 if you are interested.) Now if you don’t have young children, let me interpret “easy craft” for you. “Easy” can be translated as effortless for anyone over the age of twenty-five and therefore entirely too old for making a “craft” which can be translated as a task usually requiring a large amount of tape, glue, and string and which has no purpose other than occupying you, and occasionally your kid, and then will become a serious storage issue. So…in the late afternoon of a recent icy, gray day Maggie and I sat on the schoolroom floor cutting, taping, and stringing. We were creating a school of fish and hooks with which to capture them. I had finished a few fish, and Maggie was happily chatting about her plans. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when she sweetly chirped to her new companions, “I’m going to catch some fish and put them in my boat to die so we can eat them.” The contrast between her innocent sing-song tone and the grimness of her words was startling and left me struck by the inevitability of death.

There are, of course, the rather obvious examples of death—the sanitized versions cleaned up and plastic wrapped in our grocery store meat department, the messy (and sometimes stinky) examples on the side of the highway, and the grim reaper waiting at the end of each of our lifetimes. But what struck me was that while we see death as something to be avoided and mourned, it is weaved into every facet of life. For one thing, in many cases, to live something else has to die. We are vegetarians (most of the time) but even we must kill plants in various forms in order to survive. Some of the world’s most admired animals couldn’t live without meat and often that meat looks really cute and cuddly right before it gets gobbled up. Death is even woven into our homes. The house or apartment in which you live was at least partly constructed by wood that came from dead trees. Obviously I wouldn’t put plants in the same category as animals or people but when you see a pattern recurring again and again, you have to consider whether God is speaking. And just what is He trying to say? 

Frankly, I am not really sure. Maybe God is giving us a gentle reminder of the end that is coming for us all. Like little post-it notes carpeting the face of creation reminding us that “This too shall pass.” This could add a rather grim dimension to our enjoyment of the world around us, but it doesn’t have to. Instead of being depressed by these tokens of the macabre, perhaps we should be grateful for God’s reminding us that death is waiting for us all. This knowledge can add an element of sweetness to each moment we experience, knowing that there are only a finite number of them. So the next time one of your house plants dies or you see a graceful gazelle bite the dust under the power of a lion’s jaws on a nature show, just remember that death is stalking you in the tall grass as well. And may it inspire us to savor life and, most of all, to better prepare ourselves for judgment day.

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Belief, Doubt, and Behavior (Part Two)

By Jim Spiegel

In my previous post I noted the connection between behavior and belief and how doubts about God are often rooted in disobedience.  But how exactly does this work?  Why should one’s moral conduct, whether good or bad, have intellectual ramifications?  Let me quickly explain two moral-psychological dynamics that account for this.

First, there is the phenomenon known as self-deception.  As many studies have shown, reason is not the sole determinant in belief formation.  A person’s beliefs can be altered by significant desires, fears, and other emotions.  In fact, people often act on their passions even when reason clearly points in a different direction.  So, to illustrate regarding an ethical matter, when a person forms an immoral habit (say, anything from pirating DVDs to extramarital sex), they will naturally desire to avoid admitting their actions are really immoral.  Consequently, a moral perspective or general worldview that condones such behavior will be more attractive to them, and the desire to avoid guilt and shame about it will motivate the belief that such theft or adultery, at least in the person’s present case, is not really wrong.  This is a classic case of self-deception—believing what one, in some sense, knows to be false.

Second, and more fundamentally, there are the cognitive consequences of sin.  As Notre Dame philosopher Alvin Plantinga has elucidated (see chapter 7 of his Warranted Christian Belief), sinful behaviors have cognitive ramifications.  The mind was designed to, among other things, form true beliefs about the world, and when functioning properly in a congenial environment, it tends to do just this.  Immoral indulgences disrupt cognition so that it cannot function properly, thus clouding judgment and skewing perceptions.  This is especially so in the case of moral and spiritual beliefs where personal pride and selfish desires are most likely to interfere.

Because of the potentially devastating dynamics of self-deception and the cognitive consequences of sin, we must take great care in living virtuously and diminishing the corrupting effects of sin on the mind.  Only by avoiding the negative cognitive effects of disobedience can the intellectual challenges to the faith be addressed in a clear-headed (and pure-hearted) way.

The practical upshot is that we must prioritize right living, and this is especially important when struggling with doubts.  Some such doubts are genuinely intellectual and may be addressed accordingly.  But others are rooted in vice, in which case the first order of business is repentance rather than apologetic research.  In light of this, I have counseled some struggling students to live “as if” Christianity is true, even when they have severe doubts.  By this I mean that it is wise to observe Christian moral standards even when questioning the truth of Christianity, because indulging in sin will only further confuse one’s thinking and invite self-deception.

I recall one instance in which a student came to my office, wracked by doubt and feeling that he was “living a lie” by acting as if he was a Christian.  I told him to continue to live by biblical standards just in case Christianity is true.  This way he wouldn’t have any regrets if his faith convictions returned.  Well, sure enough, his Christian beliefs did re-solidify, and he later thanked me with immense relief that he hadn’t done anything rash (in terms of immoral indulgences) during his spell of doubt.  I suppose there is something Pascalian in this approach, but then again, there is a Pascalian dimension to all of life, as we must “wager” about many choices we make.

The lesson here is that all of our behaviors, whether habitual or one-time experiences, impact our cognitive condition to one degree or another.  And our cognitive health in turn impacts what we are inclined to believe and disbelieve.  Thus, whether or not virtue is, as the saying goes, “its own reward,” it certainly has cognitive benefits, just as vice has cognitive costs.  The wise person will take this to heart.

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Belief, Doubt, and Behavior (Part One)

By Jim Spiegel

Over the years I have had discussions with many college students who struggle with doubts about their Christian beliefs or who say they feel their faith is “slipping away.”  Some of them seek me out in hopes that I can provide some reassurance or guidance as they work through this trial.  In such cases, I always probe to see if there are any personal or relational issues lurking beneath the intellectual surface which might shed light on their struggles.  Often I discover that the student is involved in some misbehavior.  For example, a few years back a male student, whom I’ll call Bill, shared with me that he was struggling with deep doubts about his faith—questioning the truth of Christianity while also wallowing in a general apathy about it.  As I gathered some background information, Bill told me that his longtime girlfriend had broken up with him and since then he found it difficult to attend church.  So I asked Bill when was the last time he attended a church service.  His answer:  “about eight months ago.” 

               “Interesting,” I said.  “And when was the last time you read the Bible?”

               “Probably about that long—at least six months.”

               “Hmm…  Bill, do you suppose the fact that you haven’t sat under the preaching and teaching of Scripture might have something to do with your doubts and apathy?”

               “Wow,” he said calmly, and without even a hint of irony, “I haven’t thought of that.”

In conversations with other students I’ve learned that when it comes to the impact of behavior upon beliefs, many of them “haven’t thought of that.”  Such cases are, you might say, examples of people failing to “work out their salvation,” as Paul puts it in Philippians 2:12.  The life of faith must be active and engaged in the spiritual disciplines (e.g., prayer, Bible study, fellowship, worship, service, sacrifice, fasting, confession, submission, etc.), or faith will die.  Sadly, those who fail to pursue the disciplines are, for this very reason, unable to see that they are the ones causing their own doubts or apathy toward the faith.  As Peter says, “they stumble because they disobey the message” (1 Pet. 2:8).  See also Pr. 4:19 and Pr. 19:3. 

In short, disobedience gives rise to unbelief.  This biblical truth is evident in such passages as Ephesians 4:18-19, where Paul says that certain Gentiles “are darkened in their understanding…due to the hardening of their hearts,” which in turn he explains by the fact that “they have given themselves over to sensuality so as to indulge in every kind of impurity” (Eph. 4:18-19).  On the other hand, obedience brings wisdom and insight, as Scripture also teaches.  God makes wise the simple and grants understanding to those who humble themselves (see Psalm 19:7, Psalm 25:9, Prov. 1:4 and Prov. 11:2).

Spiritual understanding is not just an intellectual matter but is also deeply moral.  This is why it is crucial that doubts be addressed with spiritual formation in mind.  In my next post I will note some of the psychological dynamics involved in the playing out of this biblical truth.

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The Aesthetics of Christmas

By Jim Spiegel

As another Christmas rolls around, Amy and I have been struck again by the sheer beauty of the story.  The God of the universe condescends to take on human flesh and even humbles himself to the point of joining a rather pedestrian family.  And, as Amy noted in her last post, the irony of the Christmas story is wondrously exceeded by the Easter story, as the Christ is murdered—by us, the ones he came to save—but, in the most beautiful moment in human history, he rises from the dead, defeating death itself in the process and earning salvation for his elect, who were powerless to save themselves.  Truly, in terms of aesthetic richness, the Gospel story is incomparable.

For all of its spiritual significance, the aesthetics of Christmas (as with Easter) should not be overlooked.  Indeed, the spiritual and aesthetic dimensions of the Gospel are inseparable—a point emphasized by Pope Benedict when he recently met with hundreds of creative artists.  See my post on this on the EPS blog.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

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The Discipline of Fasting

By Jim Spiegel

Recent years have seen a significant increase of interest among evangelicals in spiritual formation.  Authors such as Richard Foster, Dallas Willard, and John Ortberg have led the way in reminding us that personal sanctification is not properly a passive affair.  Spiritual growth demands intentional practice, active exercise of the spiritual disciplines, such as prayer, worship, study, confession, sacrifice, confession, and frugality.  Each of these disciplines is useful for uniting the believer with God and building moral strength.  When used with the proper devotional attitude—aimed at growing in obedience in response to divine grace rather than to earn God’s favor—the spiritual disciplines are extremely powerful.  However, one of the most powerful disciplines remains tragically underappreciated by Christians today:  fasting.

Historically, fasting has been practiced by the great Christian leaders and theologians, including Augustine, Martin Luther, John Calvin, John Knox, John Wesley, Jonathan Edwards, and Charles Finney.  Biblical figures including Moses, David, Elijah, Esther, Daniel, Paul, Jesus and his disciples fasted as well.  Yet today I suspect that only a small minority of American Christians fast with any regularity.  This is a tragic irony given that one of the besetting sins of our culture is overindulgence.  If ever there was a time and place in history where the church desperately needed to develop self-control, this is it. 

In case you haven’t thought much about the discipline of fasting, let me address a few basic questions: 

1. What exactly does fasting involve? 

Fasting is the intentional abstinence from food, and possibly drink, for the sake of spiritual growth.  It can be extended to other contexts (e.g., technology, recreation, etc.) and can be applied to particular foods (e.g., meat, coffee, sweets, etc.). 

2. Why is fasting important?

Regular fasting:  a) builds moral strength (through the practice of self-control), b) trains us to maintain our focus on God through suffering, c) makes a statement of our moral-spiritual earnestness (especially in combination with prayer), and d) reminds us that our bodily comforts are not what is most important.  All of these benefits serve to make the believer more Christ-like in character, which of course leads to many other blessings. 

3. What is a good occasion for fasting?

Some common occasions for fasting include:

a) Seeking God’s forgiveness – Lev. 23:27 (Day of Atonement); 1 Sam. 7:2-6 (Israel’s repentance of idol worship); Jonah 3 (the repentance of Ninevah); Acts 9:1-9 (Paul’s repentance)

b) Seeking God’s counsel or blessing – Acts 13:2-3 (the commissioning of Paul and Barnabas); Acts 14:21-23 (Paul and Barnabas’ commissioning of elders at the churches of Lystra, Iconium, and Antioch) 

c) Seeking God’s strength – Matt. 4:1-2 (Jesus fasted when “he was led by the Spirit into the desert to be tempted by the devil”); Matt. 17:20 & Mark 9:29 (in some manuscripts Jesus says “this kind can come out only by prayer and fasting”).

But it is wise for Christians to fast even aside from these occasions.  Fasting is powerful for building self-control, and we all need to improve in that area. 

4. What about the problem of abuses?

Abuse is no argument.  The distortion of a good thing does not justify our throwing it out.  Sex, prayer, worship, and even religion itself are constantly abused, but we don’t properly reject those things.  However, two concerns deserve special attention: 

a) Eating disorders:  Those who have had this problem may be advised to avoid fasting for a time, to do so only with strict accountability, or to practice only selective fasting (e.g. refraining from sweets, meats, or other particular foods).

b) Legalism:  We don’t allow legalistic abuses of the other spiritual disciplines to discourage us from practicing them, nor should we when it comes to fasting.  But we should be on our guard against the legalistic mindset and pride which might ensue, especially if we are unique among our friends in fasting. 

5. What approach should I take in learning to fast?

Start with short fasts, one or two meals.  Do this dozens of times before going on to longer fasts.  You might want to begin by fasting once monthly and perhaps increase in frequency to 2-4 times per month.  Many people prefer to pray more often while fasting in order to maintain focus and request spiritual strength.  If you get discouraged as you learn to fast, this is normal.  As with all spiritual disciplines, observable benefits typically emerge only as a cumulative effect of repeated practice.

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Learning Obedience Through Suffering

By Jim Spiegel

This weekend I will am scheduled to speak at a church retreat near Knoxville, Tennessee.  My topic is “Growing the Church from the Inside Out,” and my focus will be on the role of spiritual formation in building the church, both in maturity and, secondarily, in numbers.  I give frequent talks on the spiritual disciplines and the concept of training for godliness (cf. 1 Cor. 9:24-27 and 1 Tim. 4:7-8).  This is a recurrent theme in Scripture, yet somehow it is a foreign concept to many evangelicals these days.  So I am always eager to speak on the subject, especially since I can count on a strongly positive response from audiences. Given the moral decay in the contemporary church, there is a deep need here, and judging by people’s responses, it is also a felt need.

One of the biblical themes I emphasize is the notion that we must be intentional about learning to obey, hence the critical role of such disciplines as fasting and sacrifice in order to build self-control.  I also highlight the role of suffering, unpleasant as it is, to discipline us and make us more obedient.  Regarding this latter theme, I have been revisiting one of the more fascinating (and cryptic) passages in the New Testament, Hebrews 5:8-9, which says regarding Jesus that “although he was a son, he learned obedience from what he suffered and, once made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him…”  Now what does this mean?  Before venturing a positive answer, let’s first get clear on what it doesn’t mean.  It can’t mean that Jesus was ever disobedient or morally corrupt and that his suffering somehow brought him out of this condition.  Jesus neither had a sinful nature (because he was conceived by the Holy Spirit) nor did he ever perform sinful actions.

So what does this passage mean?  In what sense might a God-man “learn obedience”?  A few possibilities come to mind.  First, though morally impeccable, Jesus still might have had to develop the skill of obedience in diverse contexts.  One can only become proficient at resisting  certain kinds of temptation when one has actually been tempted in those ways.  And such virtues as self-control and humility become fully formed only when one has had to display them in a variety of circumstances.  Second, Jesus’ moral perfection would not rule out the need to practice obedience in the face of increasing degrees of difficulty.  Given his mission to be publicly humiliated and die an excruciating death, before ultimately conquering death through his resurrection, the suffering he experienced throughout his life no doubt prepared him to endure his torturous final hours.

Perhaps there are other ways to make sense of this passage, but one thing is clear:  suffering played a constructive role in helping even the God-man to grow in obedience.  And if suffering served Jesus’ moral development in this way, then how much more must we suffer in order to grow morally?

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A Defense of Conditional Immortalism

By Jim Spiegel

Conditional immortalism is the view that human beings are not naturally immortal but are only granted immortality (eternal life) by God as part of our salvation.  In other words, immortality is conditional upon divine grace.  Thus, those who are saved in Christ live forever with him, while those who are damned suffer in hell for some finite period and are eventually annihilated.

Conditional immortalism should not be confused with other versions of annihilationism which say that the damned are immediately destroyed upon death and do not suffer in hell.  And conditional immortalism contrasts with the traditional view (since Augustine) that the damned suffer eternal conscious torment.

Six Arguments for Conditional Immortalism

1. The Language of Destruction — Numerous biblical passages refer to the wicked and the damned being destroyed or perishing (Ps. 37:38, Ps. 68:2, Ps. 145:20, John 3:16, Phil. 3:19, etc.).  But if the damned live forever, then they are never destroyed.  Also, the biblical imagery of fire  (Isa. 34:10-11, Ezek. 20:47-48; Amos 5:6, Mt. 3:12, Mt. 13:49-50, Rev. 20, etc.) suggests obliteration of the wicked, since fire consumes what it burns.

2. The Opposing Concepts of Damnation and Eternal Life — In Scripture the eternal life promised to Christians is opposed to the damnation of the wicked.  But if the damned live eternally in hell, then their fate also is eternal life.  After all, they never die.  Theirs is a painful eternal life, but it is still eternal life.  The conditional immortalist view makes much better sense of the biblical contrast between damnation and eternal life.

3. Reconciliation of All Things to God — The Bible says that God will reconcile all things to himself (Col. 1:20).  If the damned live forever in hell, then they are not reconciled to God.

4. Matthew 10:28 — In this passage Jesus says that God can “destroy both body and soul in hell.”  This suggests that hell is indeed a place where souls are destroyed.

5. The “Second Death” — Conditional immortalism makes the best sense of the concept of the “second death” referred to in Rev. 20:14-15 and Rev. 21:8.  If the damned soul lives forever in hell, then there is no second death, thus contradicting Scripture.

6. The Argument from Justice — If all of the damned suffer in hell eternally, then this constitutes an infinite penalty for finite sins, which is profoundly unjust.  Some traditionalists insist that sins against an infinite and holy God require a temporally infinite penalty.  But this is a non-sequitur.  It does not follow from the fact that God is infinite and morally perfect that punishment of those who sin against him must be infinite in duration.

So where did the doctrine of eternal conscious torment come from, if not Scripture?  It appears that the culprit is the Platonic concept of natural immortality.  Socrates and Plato affirmed the notion that the human soul is naturally immortal.  This idea found its way into Christian theology in the late second century and later through Augustine.  It should be noted that while Augustine had most things right, he was not infallible.  He read the Platonic doctrine of the soul’s indestructibility into Scripture, and the church followed his cue.

Replies to Counter-arguments

1. Matthew 25:46 — In this passage Jesus says the wicked “will go away to eternal punishment” which suggests eternal conscious torment.

Reply:  The word translated here as “eternal” is aionias, which literally means “of the ages” (cf. Rom. 16:25).  However, even if aionias is taken to imply an everlasting state, conditional immortalism is not contradicted in this verse.  Those who go to hell are eventually annihilated and they remain destroyed forever.  This is a perfectly natural understanding of “eternal punishment” in this verse.

2. Revelation 20:10 — As commonly translated, this passage declares that the devil, the beast, and false prophet “will be tormented day and night forever and ever” (NIV).

Reply:  These are special cases and should not be taken to represent the fate of all of the damned, particularly human beings.  More importantly, the phrase often translated “forever and ever” (again involving aionias) is better translated “for ages upon ages,” as it is in some Bible translations.  This signifies a much longer torment but hardly that which is everlasting.

For an extensive discussion and defense of conditional immortalism, see Edward Fudge’s classic work The Fire that Consumes.  And for an informative scholarly dialogue between proponents of the traditional and conditional immoralist views, see Two Views of Hell, co-authored by Edward Fudge and Robert Peterson.  Also, check out this interview with Fudge about his view.  Lastly, the eminent evangelical biblical scholar John Stott defends conditional immortalism view in his Evangelical Essentials.  In fact, it was Stott’s arguments that finally persuaded me to embrace conditional immortalism.