Exploring the kaleidoscopic world of Christian atonement theory

When I was a little kid, my brother and I shared a red tube you could look into, twist the end of, and see lots of shifting colors and patterns. The first few times I used it I had no clue it was called a kaleidoscope. I just enjoyed sitting by the window and watching the sunlight showcase vivid patterns changing again and again. Each perspective was beautiful.

I’ve been thinking about that kaleidoscope a lot lately. Over the past few months I have departed the spiritual wilderness and started rebuilding my faith from the ground up. It’s been a good, healthy, and strange journey all at the same time. Good and healthy in that I no longer feel the shackles of a culturally-rooted religious system. I feel free to take seriously my own formation, but it’s also been strange in that all kinds of questions have come up I did not expect. Apparently taking 2,000 years of Christian history and theology more seriously comes with a big learning curve.

One thing that has been front and center in my mind the past several months is Christian atonement. I doubt there’s a way to avoid questions about atonement when a person is rebuilding their faith. It’s coming up more and more in my personal conversations. A few members and several readers have asked me to write on the topic, too. I’ve read some about various atonement theories in this time, including a fantastic book on a newer theory.

We’ll get back to my childhood kaleidoscope at the end. It’s a great metaphor for how to approach ideas of Christian atonement that we see throughout Scripture and Church history. First, I want to provide some background on what Christian atonement even is and a few of the major theories; because, in my neck of the woods at least, the culture around atonement theory feels pretty strange.

What is Christian atonement theory?

As a Protestant who has lived in the Bible Belt my whole life, I can honestly say that I have never once heard a pastor give a sermon or been offered a class or resource that covers different theories of Christian atonement. I find that odd considering atonement is such a central pillar of the Christian faith. One would think it’d be front and center in a structured way at least occasionally.

Notions of Christian atonement are in the background of most experiences in church life though. These beliefs show up in the songs we sing and are assumed in sermons and commentaries, sometimes more explicitly, but mostly it’s all pretty vague. For example, when you hear a phrase like Christ died for us or sing the line Praise the one who paid my debt, that is pointing toward atonement, although the details may be lacking. To be more direct, Christian atonement theory is perhaps best described as asking questions like these:

“What did the life, crucifixion, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus actually do at a practical level?”
“What did Jesus actually accomplish?”
“What did Jesus dying for humanity mean for me?”

Years ago, I used to think these questions had an easy answer: Jesus died for our sins, duh. But Scripture points to far more complexity. The New Testament approaches atonement through a wide spectrum of metaphors and, as some phallus-worshipping American evangelicals recently discovered, all metaphors reach a point in which they stop making sense, with some even becoming incredibly toxic and harmful.

Christian history points to far more complexity, too. Atonement theories that developed in the Early Church all the way to our present time were crafted within specific cultural contexts and, in older theories especially, it’s a bit easier to see how cultural realities seeped into the minds of past generations. I’m not judging because we still do this today. It’s a very human experience to be shaped by the culture around you; the passage of time simply makes it easier to see how the world around past generations impacted life and belief in the Church.

*Photo by* *Kelly Sikkema* on *Unsplash*

One quick note before continuing. I know that this is existentially significant for a lot of folks. I felt some anxiety as I was reading about atonement theory these past several months and a bit more as I wrote this essay. This journey has forced me to come to terms with some things in my past belief system that were still lurking around in me and some of the broader church culture I interact with. There’s a lot to wrestle with here and it’s not always fun. My goal in writing this is twofold: 1) to provide some knowledge readers asked for and 2) to try to work through some faith challenges and cultural issues I have been wrestling with. Let’s examine a few of these theories before looking at application and embodiment.

Seven theories of atonement, summarized

There are a lot of Christian theories of atonement scattered across 2,000 years of church history. These are a few of the bigger ones that have emerged over the centuries, with a bit of their biblical roots, historical context, and criticisms included for reference.

1. Ransom Theory. This is widely considered to be the earliest theory explaining Jesus’ death on the cross. According to this theory, Jesus' death was a ransom payment made in order to free humanity from the bondage of sin and death (Mark 10:45). The primary concept is that humanity was held captive by evil as a result of sin, with Adam and Eve sometimes being referenced as having unintentionally sold themselves to Satan. Many early church fathers, including Origen (c. 185-253 AD), viewed the ransom as being paid to Satan, who had a claim over humanity. God could only set humanity free by satisfying Satan's demands. So, Jesus offered himself as a ransom payment to Satan in exchange for humanity being released from captivity.

One of the main objections to this theory is that it seems to portray God as negotiating with Satan and giving in to his demands, which does not fit with traditional understandings of God's sovereignty and justice. Additionally, the theory does not explain why God could not simply forgive humanity without requiring a ransom payment.

2. Recapitulation Theory. First proposed by Irenaeus (c. 130-202 AD), this theory suggests that Jesus is the second Adam and came to earth to re-do the human story, which was marred by the sin of the first Adam. According to this theory, Christ lived a sinless life, died on the cross to pay the penalty for the sins of humanity, and rose again from the dead. He made it possible for human beings to be reconciled to God by "recapitulating" the entire story of humanity, reversing the effects of sin and restoring human beings to their original state of righteousness (1 Corinthians 15:20-22, Romans 5:13–19).

Two interesting points about this theory. First, Irenaeus emphasizes that salvation occurs through Christ’s Incarnation, although the Cross is still treated as being integral to what Jesus did. Second, because of the emphasis on the Incarnation, Christ's humanity is elevated in a way that people who hold to other theories sometimes struggle to do. One of the main objections to the theory is that it overlooks the more sacrificial elements we see in Scripture. For example, right before Romans 5:13-19 are verses 6-11, which is heavy on sacrificial language (“die for", “blood,” etc.).

3. Satisfaction Theory. Articulated by the medieval theologian Anselm of Canterbury (c. 1033-1109AD), this theory states that human beings have sinned against God and offended His honor. The sacrificial death of Jesus is the ultimate act of obedience and restores God’s honor. Jesus’ death brought God more “satisfaction” than anyone else ever could, so Jesus offers the “abundance” to humans so we can share in satisfying God’s honor (Romans 6:23).

Satisfaction Theory is widely viewed as a critique of Ransom Theory and a precursor to Penal Substitutionary Atonement Theory. For Anselm, humanity owed a debt to God rather than to Satan. Historical context is especially key to understanding Satisfaction Theory: Anselm lived during medieval European feudalism, a time when honoring one’s earthly master was central to class and economic hierarchy. One of the main objections to the theory is that it doesn’t speak well of Christian views of God’s mercy and may imply that God requires violence to forgive humanity.

4. Moral Influence Theory. Articulated by the medieval theologian Peter Abelard (c. 1079-1142AD), this theory emphasizes the moral and transformative power of Jesus Christ's life and teachings as the means by which humanity is reconciled with God. This theory suggests that the primary purpose of the Cross was not to satisfy divine justice or appease God's wrath, but to show mankind the fullness of God’s love, resulting in softened hearts, repentance, and righteousness (Mark 10:42-45, Romans 12, Ephesians 5:1-2, and 1 John 3:16).

Moral Influence Theory is seen, in part, as being a response to Satisfaction Theory. Rather than focusing on the more forensic or legalistic aspects of atonement, such as the payment of a penalty or the satisfaction of a debt, Moral Influence emphasizes the spiritual and moral transformation that occurs as a result of encountering the love and grace of God through Christ. Atonement, then, is not directed toward God but toward humanity. Through his example of selfless love, sacrifice, and forgiveness, Jesus Christ shows us the way to live in harmony with God and with one another. One of the main objections to the theory is that it sometimes overlooks the more sacrificial elements we see in Scripture.

5. Penal Substitutionary Atonement Theory (PSA). This is the dominant theory that came out of the Protestant Reformation and still holds significant sway in western Protestantism today. According to PSA, Jesus took upon himself the penalty that humanity deserved for sin and satisfied the demands of divine justice. Reformers like Luther (1483-1546 AD) and Calvin (1509-1564 AD) argued that God's justice required punishment for sin and that this punishment could only be satisfied by the death of a perfect and sinless sacrifice. Since Jesus was both fully God and fully human, his death on the cross was a substitutionary sacrifice in which he took on the punishment that humanity deserved for their sins, thus satisfying the demands of God's justice (John 3:17-18, 1 John 1:7, 1 John 5:5).

PSA emphasizes that the punishment Jesus endured on the cross was not only physical but also spiritual. Jesus experienced the full wrath of God against sin, bearing it on behalf of humanity. Critics argue that PSA portrays God as a wrathful and vengeful judge (ignoring His love and mercy), that sin “forced” God’s hand to do something (which does not fit with Scriptural ideas of God's sovereignty), and that this theological system primes Christian communities for all manner of abuse as God does all the work (sanctification is heavily downgraded).

6. Christus Victor Theory. This theory is gaining popularity today in several Christian traditions. According to Christus Victor, the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ was a confrontation with and victory over the powers of evil, freeing humanity from bondage. Jesus liberated humanity from the power of sin and death through his own sacrificial death and triumphant resurrection, inaugurating a new era of salvation and redemption. The theory also stresses the ongoing work of Christ in the world through his Church, as believers participate in his mission of redeeming the world (Colossians 2:12-15).

Christus Victor was developed by Swedish theologian Gustaf Aulen (1879-1977). He argued that this theory was first articulated by the early Church Fathers and that later theologians misread their earlier views on Ransom Theory as a transactional payment of a debt owed. Aulen argues that the early church fathers actually believed Jesus’ death —as a ransom— had the purpose of rescuing and liberating humanity from evil, which had enslaved us to sin. One of the objections to this theory is that it sometimes lacks a more forensic element.

7. Scapegoat Theory. This new theory of Christian atonement stands apart from most others in that it shifts the blame for the violence we see on the Cross from God to humans. Developed by French polymath René Girard (1923-2015), Scapegoat Theory argues that human violence is the result of mimetic desire, which is the tendency of individuals to imitate the desires and actions of others. This leads to violence as individuals compete for objects of desire. Girard shows how societies throughout human history have selected scapegoats —a person or group who is blamed for the problems and conflicts within the community— to focus their violence on as a means to prevent more widespread communal violence. The scapegoat is then expelled, punished, or even killed in order to restore order and unity.

Scapegoat Theory argues that Jesus is the ultimate scapegoat. God became the one who enters our world, exposes the practice of scapegoating through his death, and permanently ends the need to scapegoat individuals and groups of people in the future. The Gospel becomes the Good News as it is seen through the eyes of victims, in the truth that much of Scripture was written by marginalized and oppressed voices and Jesus spent most of his life inviting in the downtrodden and outcasts of his day (John 4:1-42, as one example). By ending scapegoating, we enter into the Kingdom of God. The main objection to this new theory is that it doesn’t approach atonement in the more traditional ways older theories do.

*Photo by* *Josh Eckstein* on *Unsplash*

Again, this is merely a brief summary of some of the major atonement theories. There are others, such as Declaratory Theory, Martyr Theory, Guaranty Theory, Vicarious Repentance Theory, Christian Universalist Theory, Accident Theory…the list goes on. Some of these other theories likely fall outside of what would be considered “mainstream Christianity,” but I share them to show how big the world of atonement theory actually is. Regardless what you believe about Christ dying on the cross, history suggests that Christians in the past and who live now did and do not view atonement exactly as you do.

Tightening a few screws, for kicks

I think this is a prudent moment to point to something important. These theories are human attempts to try to understand what the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus mean. None of these theories cover the full biblical witness on their own. God did not give us these theories. Christians gave them to ourselves as we’ve tried to extrapolate meaning from ancient texts written within and to specific cultural contexts that are very different from our own. The vast majority of the cultural context these theories were developed in sit outside of the world that the Hebrew Bible and New Testament were written in.

We can see this truth when we go to Scripture itself. For example, Mark 10:42-45 is a passage often linked to the Ransom, Moral Influence, and Christus Victor theories. It’s interesting to notice not only what Mark has recorded Jesus as saying, but also what Jesus is not recorded as saying. Jesus makes no mention of whom the “ransom” is paid to; Christians have made assumptions instead. We do know that in Jesus’ day slavery and oppression were major pillars of the social order, making it possible that when the term ransom is used in this passage, Jesus is using a slavery metaphor to describe an aspect of atonement within the context of a very specific conversation he was having with the disciples. My point here is that we have to understand that past generations asking questions about atonement were also seeking to understand their own times and themselves. Perhaps without always realizing it, they projected their own beliefs and cultures onto the biblical text before interpreting what they read.

We still do this today. Humans are enculturated beings, which means it is impossible to read anything without bringing our own beliefs, thoughts, and experiences into the picture. Three of the more favored theories in Church history —Christus Victor, Satisfaction, and Penal Substitution— were certainly shaped by the governmental systems of their times. We see this when we begin tightening the screws on these theories. Christus Victor and Ransom Theory may sound a bit odd in our scientific and legal world; however, if you try to imagine living with the fear of Roman power, slavery, and some of the confusion and trauma of the early Church, it actually makes a good bit of sense. The same goes for Penal Substitutionary Atonement (PSA). Explaining PSA in a rule-of-law country is pretty easy because everyone knows how a courtroom functions. Christus Victor growing in popularity in the United States speaks, in part at least, to our cultural concerns about institutional and leader corruption and the collapse of trust in them. A God who overcomes evil and incompetence that we often feel hopeless against gifts us with hope and determination to press forward for change.

We also see these truths in the language we use, especially in modern American English. For example, Jesus dying for you doesn’t necessarily have to mean instead of you or took your place. It can also mean something like on your behalf. Martyrs die for their beliefs and the movements they are part of, not necessarily because they believe they are taking the place of someone else to rescue or protect them. Meanwhile, a word like redeem can be used in a compensating for a shortcoming kind of way or in a regaining possession of sense. Or with a fulfill or rescue meaning. These multiple methods of using a single word may overlap some, but they don’t mean the exact same thing.

Regardless, these theories do not have to be mutually exclusive. We see different metaphors and imagery mixed together throughout the New Testament to try to suss out what Jesus did on the Cross. These theories are rooted in specific views and approaches to those metaphors and biblical imagery. Examining western Christian high fantasy, such as The Chronicles of Narnia or The Lord of The Rings, can be helpful in learning how various theories can overlap. We see Christus Victor and Ransom Theory in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, when Aslan is killed by the White Witch on the Stone Table, both to save Edmund and defeat the witch and her forces of evil later. Throughout The Lord of The Rings trilogy, we see elements of Moral Influence Theory (Merry and Pippin grow out of selfishness into deep love for their friends and others), Christus Victor (Gandalf falls to the Balrog only to return as a herald in the war against Mordor), and Recapitulation (Aragorn faithfully lives the way Isildur and Boromir should have). Literature shows us how these atonement theories can actually be strengthened when they are brought into the presence of others. More on that a bit later.

It’s possible I may be splitting hairs here. I don’t know. I’ve just come to understand that some of the language we use today comes with a lot of theological and cultural assumptions baked in. Maybe most of it is right. I hope it is; but, as we are about to see, assuming we are getting this right with little to no self-reflection can do an immense amount of damage.

Pruning branches, for our own sakes

Studying these theories is interesting and important, but I think it’s even more healthy for ordinary folks to examine how they are embodied in the real world. After all, Jesus said folks would be known by their fruit (Matthew 7:15-20), not by beliefs. So, what are the fruits of people who hold to these theories?

That’s a slippery question to try to answer as this debate about atonement spans centuries and countless believers across many subcultures. Much of our current American Church culture makes it far too easy to look back on past generations and idolize their beliefs detached from their actions without seeing how severe errors of the past live on in us today. But I am better-equipped to answer this question specific to my context. As a post-white evangelical, Protestant Christian living in an urban setting in the American South, for me that means looking at the branch of Penal Substitutionary Atonement (PSA) and the fruit it is producing. It is without a doubt the dominant atonement theory in my neck of the woods.

PSA makes me feel increasingly…uncomfortable. It’s not because of shortcomings with the theory. Again, none of these theories account for what we see in the full biblical witness. I’d even describe myself as someone who identifies a good bit with PSA, although I hold the theory much more loosely than I used to.

No, my discomfort comes from running into a lot of PSA-alone people who are arrogant and abusive jerks. I do know some genuinely loving folks who take PSA seriously —more on that momentarily— but I’ve had too many encounters with people who have placed their faith in this specific atonement theory instead of the person, Jesus, that PSA points to. It shows up in some really ugly ways. What is it about PSA that produces so many fearful, fragile, and angry people?

I have some ideas rooted in historical reality and personal experience. PSA as a theory leans legalistic —Luther was training to be a lawyer— and, in practice, the attributes of God’s wrath and justice are often placed over everything else, including God Himself. A core feature of just about any submission-obedience or shame-honor culture is that love tends to evaporate quickly. Fear easily fills that void. Then, if a belief system is being used as a tool to submit to and obey a specific cultural hierarchy and a set of social rules, little room is left for individual and institutional improvement. None of this jives with what see about sanctification and reconciliation in the New Testament (John 15:1-17, 2 Timothy 2:20-22, James 2). The irony is not lost on me that, in my cultural context, the dominant theory coming out of the Reformation is now often used to make reform incredibly difficult.

PSA as it is lived and breathed in parts of the American South often leaves nothing for people to do after the moment of salvation besides sharing their beliefs with others. Much of the culture built around PSA runs the high risk of pushing people into a hostile posture in which they believe they have the truth on all things big and small. It paves the way for attempts to impose a moral code on the broader culture (i.e. culture warring), a code other folks didn’t sign up for. It definitely makes it far too easy to trample over suffering people.

Like many things in American South church life, PSA seems to have been heavily influenced by the larger white evangelical consumer culture. As I’ve met folks living outside of PSA-alone subcultures who take the theory seriously, I see striking differences. They usually believe what Jesus did on the cross is bigger and more beautiful than they can understand. They’ve often rejected rugged American individualism and better understand the importance of community and social systems. They also tend to be really kind people who act as if they aren’t the center of the universe.

If actions are downstream of beliefs —and they are— we shouldn’t be surprised that some of the fruits of PSA-alone churches are rotten, especially when overlayed on a cultural landscape like the one I walk. This grimness works its way back upstream, too. Ever wonder why the top priority for some churches with a sexually abusive leader is to reinstate him as quickly as possible? Or why male leaders in some churches are furious about women preaching, even as they shrug when a woman is assaulted, or worse, blame her? It’s because PSA is often used to make hierarchy and human authority more important than accountability and the call of leaders to protect the vulnerable. It leaves little room for anyone or the community they are a part of to enter into the journey of sanctification.

I’m reformed enough in my theology to know that if we are not becoming more Christlike, then bad things are guaranteed to happen that could have been prevented (2 Peter 2:20-21). I believe in the priesthood of all believers like all good Protestants. So why have we created a new priesthood in a consumer culture, one that mercilessly uses PSA as an enforcement mechanism in service to itself? To be sure, it is an injustice to ourselves, but isn’t this a grave injustice to PSA, too?

Perhaps a metaphor can help me better get at what I’m after. Our family has two gorgeous columnar apples trees planted in our backyard. Over the years we’ve learned that they need to be pruned of dying and overgrown branches so healthy fruit can grow in abundance again. Last year, our apple trees produced nearly twice as much fruit after we did a bit of pruning. There was so much fruit that some of the apples pushed off other apples. There was so much renewed health that a new tree even sprung out of a seed that had sunk into the rich soil.

Is it time to prune the PSA branch that is on the metaphorical tree of Christian atonement, so healthy fruit can grow again? I’m not there quite yet, but reforming this theory and much of the culture around it is called for. At the very least, a lot of leaders in PSA-alone churches need to abandon the harsh components of their beliefs in pursuit of the many other parts of the biblical witness that point us to God’s ability to heal the pain and trauma in our lives and make us whole in His love (Matthew 11:28-30, 1 Peter 5:7). And it would help if some of the common PSA-alone folk embraced how difficult it can be for all Christians, regardless of where they live(d) in history, to understand theology and history outside of their own context.

Closing Thoughts

Nearly two millennia after Jesus walked the Earth, the journey to discover more fully what his crucifixion, resurrection, and ascension mean remains ongoing. For me at least, this points back to the mystery of God seen throughout the metaphors in scripture and widely recognized by the centuries of the Church. It also points to sanctification being as much a generational and institutional journey as it is an individual one.

Sadly, to our own detriment, it seems many of us Christians living in the United States have lost sight of these biblical and historical realities. Expressions of Christendom rooted in more right-wing aspects of American culture detest ambiguity, even though mystery is evident from the first page of Genesis through the teachings of Jesus and on to the final words of Revelation, and beyond. So many churches in our country seem far more concerned with holding “correct” intellectual formulations from a forensic posture as a means to enforce a “correct” culture in our homes, churches, and American society. Somewhere along the way, we lost the ability to see the obvious mystery in the actual virgin-born Savior who died and came to life again.

Put another way: if your only identification with the Gospel is from a forensic perspective, your faith may be built on a house of cards. Those who are already struggling inside the decadence of Penal Substitutionary Atonement (PSA)-alone churches can be hit with a tsunami of anxiety when they discover bigger conversations about atonement or a myriad of other issues central to the Christian faith. In most of those subcultural bubbles, PSA is rarely named but often presented as the only way the Bible and the Church have ever viewed atonement. This historically inaccurate view underpins everything: sermons preached, Sunday school discussions, songs that are sung, how people see themselves and their neighbors…we could go on and on. The culture built around PSA is thick, so thick that it is suffocating people who deeply desire to follow Jesus well.

But since this bigger conversation has always existed, it is unsurprising that an existential crisis sets in when people discover it. The deconstruction phenomena is forced upon them by the very subculture that is desperately trying to prevent people from engaging with the mystery of God. The fear and sense of betrayal that comes to those wrestling with this truth should not be lost on us. Neither should the irony that is at the heart of much of this subculture.

What do those of us searching for a path forward do with all of these theories?

I find it life-giving to think of that kaleidoscope I played with as a child. When you turn the device and adjust the lighting, you see different patterns and notice various parts you didn’t before. Looking at the Cross and the Empty Tomb isn’t so different. As we move around looking at both, we begin to see more of what Jesus did. New Testament scholar Joel Green even calls this the “kaleidoscopic view” of Christian atonement.

All of these theories matter because they point us to various aspects of what Jesus did that we wouldn’t have seen otherwise. Jesus dying for our sins isn’t mutually exclusive from his dying to help us understand how we can better participate in bringing Heaven to Earth (Romans 12). Our Savior overcoming the evils of this world by dying at the hands of a brutal empire does not mean salvation is impersonal (Colossians 2:11-15). Scapegoat Theory may be hard for some people to swallow on its own; but, when placed alongside other theories of atonement, it emphasizes Jesus’ life and ministry in a way other theories fail to do.

What Jesus did heralds the making of all things new: individuals, systems and cultures, the nations, and all of Creation. Redemption is so much bigger, more beautiful, and more intricate than we will ever be able to imagine. Why then would we —the people who claim the name of the God-Man born of a virgin and who overcame death itself— reject the notion of a God setting the course for all things to be whole through a single action?

I can already hear the naivety of my past clamoring to respond. But what about Truth? Can we even call ourselves Christians if we don’t understand every little detail of how salvation works? Don’t we need to know so we can share the story of Jesus with others?

Years ago I would have answered yes, but that speaks to my being conditioned to crave certainty instead of being taught tangible ways to lean into the mystery of God. Life is complicated. Maybe God is, too. Maybe that’s okay. I think we can know enough about Jesus to live into the Good News. The rest we trust to him. We have to. If we can’t we have a much more serious issue anyways.

One of the central tenants of Christian life is that we are to become decentered in every way imaginable. For those Christians who have always sat at the apex of American culture and in their churches with a false sense of absolute certainty, this truth feels absolutely terrifying. Their fear is manifesting in some deeply ugly ways. But for those brave Christians living on the frayed and ambiguous edges of this world, the Gospel truly is the Good News in all its forms. And that can be a powerful thing to see when it is unleashed.

I explore faith and church culture in the American South from Memphis, TN. Never miss an article by signing up for my newsletter and subscribing to the podcast. You can also become a member or leave a tip to help keep this site free and open to all.