Grab a snack: it’s a long one.

For centuries, the doctrine of Penal Substitutionary Atonement (PSA) has been upheld in the heart of Western evangelical theology. According to this view, Christ’s death was a forensic transaction: He bore the punitive wrath of God in our place, satisfying divine justice that would normally have sentenced us to an eternity without Him. If we peel back the layers of historical context, biblical language, and the theological traditions preceding the Reformation, we discover a more complex, far richer narrative—one that beckons us to see the Cross (and resurrection) not as a grim ledger of crime and punishment, but as the grand narrative of reconciliation, transformation, and global healing.

“The cross is not a sign of the church’s quiet, suffering submission to the powers-that-be, but rather the church’s revolutionary participation in the victory of Christ over those powers.”

N.T. Wright

For context, Penal Substitutionary Atonement is the Christian doctrine that teaches Jesus, God and sinless, took upon Himself the punishment for our sins—fulfilling God’s requirement for justice and appeasing His wrath—so that all who believe in Him can be forgiven and saved, instead of being eternally damned¹…more or less.

Here’s a simple breakdown that covers the gist of PSA:

• Sin Affects Us All: Every human is born with sin and thus in need of redemption.
• Debt of Sin: Because of our sin, we owe a penalty that we cannot pay.
• God’s Justice Demands Payment: God’s holiness and justice require that sin be punished.
• Jesus as Our Substitute: Jesus, being both fully God and fully man, willingly bore the punishment in our place on the cross.

• Salvation Through Faith: By placing our faith in Jesus’ divinity, sacrificial death, and resurrection, we receive forgiveness and eternal life after death.

A Recovering Pastor’s Gospel Invitation

About 10 years ago, as a youth pastor grappling with the complexities of Christian theology, I led a youth group series on Atonement Theories, cause that’s normal. It unknowingly pushed me further on a path of theological consideration. What began as an exploration of various atonement theories evolved into an unavoidable realization: we had inadvertently reduced the transformative power of the Gospel to one transactional formula, one that we’ve clung to with an almost insane faith. And it has had consequences.

This journey preceded planting a church and my subsequent struggles with addiction. It was clear then, even if I didn’t have the words yet, that my faith and the expectations of American Christianity didn’t align. The events that upended my life, all of my own doing, have served to deepen my conviction that our personal understanding of Christ’s atoning work requires serious re-examination. Specifically, I’ve come to believe that Penal Substitutionary Atonement, far from being a timeless biblical truth, is a historically conditioned interpretation that has hindered our ability to fully embrace the radical love and transformative power of the real Gospel.

This is not just an abstract theological exploration. In America, the “Great Experiment,” we all can see there are at least two Christianities, and thus at least two Gospels. There’s also a lot of data (or “fruit”) we can evaluate from the last couple of centuries. With my Evangelical brothers and sisters, I agree how we understand the Gospel has dire consequences for our souls and the mission of the church. After wading through much of my waist-high bullshit these last few years, I’m ready to call it – One of these Gospels is not correct, and it isn’t the American Evangelical Church’s. 

If past posts haven’t made it clear, I understand the weight of the concepts I’ve been personally wrestling with through Drunk Pastor. While, perhaps, 90% of Christians may read and instantly reject everything, there are those still nodding their heads who’ve also been wrestling for years, unable to put words to why their faith does not seem to align with Church traditions they’ve hitched their souls to.

This is about the nature of the Gospel itself and, as such, God. Jesus, Paul, and John preached that if anyone comes with another Gospel, it’s anathema (Galatians 1:6-9). So, which Gospel would they point to today and say is anathema? Which “gospel” is damning unknowingly people to Hell and depriving them of the Kingdom of Heaven? Don’t we have enough evidence?

If PSA distorts the message of Christ, it has real consequences for how we understand salvation, grace, society, and the mission of the Church. In fact, it already has had significant consequences in the psyche and behavior of American Christianity. My journey through faith, ministry, and recovery has forced me to wrestle with these questions. What follows is an invitation to engage in the same wrestling—not to abandon faith, but to deepen it. Be warned this broke me in all the ways I needed to. It is a call to honor Scripture and our God-given reason, to die to self, to seek the true Gospel that heals and reconciles rather than one that reinforces guilt and shame.

I. Exegetical Foundations: A Closer Look at ἱλαστήριον

A key battleground in the debate over atonement is the interpretation of the Greek term ἱλαστήριον (hilastērion)². The word means a sacrifice that appeases another, usually a god. It’s important to note from the beginning that the word itself doesn’t imply criminal guilt – we have in our centuries of Christian theologianizing. Proponents of PSA often cite Romans 3:25 to argue that this term implies a sacrifice meant to appease divine wrath for our sinfulness³—a criminal transaction that satisfies a juridical requirement. Aside from the beginning assumption that God has to satisfy His own wrath (while then commanding us to forgive our enemies), a deeper exegetical and historical analysis reveals that such an interpretation strips the term of its full biblical and historical cultural nuance.

A. The Cultural and Religious Background of ἱλαστήριον

In the Septuagint, ἱλαστήριον is the word used for the Mercy Seat atop the Ark of the Covenant—the kapporet—where the Shekinah glory of God’s presence resided between the cherubim (Exodus 25:10-22). The Mercy Seat was already a propitiation. On Yom Kippur, the high priest would make several sacrifices for the people’s sins, and sprinkle the blood of a sacrifice on this mercy seat. This blood was another “propitiation,” or covering.

“To be a Christian means to forgive the inexcusable, because God has forgiven the inexcusable in you.”

C.S. Lewis

Before this was possible, however, God had to first make His own “propitiation” – “For I will appear in the cloud over the mercy seat (ἱλαστήριον)” (Leviticus 16:2). Here, even before the High Priest makes his sacrifices, the Mercy Seat needs a “propitiation” and so God “covers” it. Still, before the High Priest is able to sprinkle the aforementioned blood, he would have to burn incense on an altar so the smoke would “conceal the atonement cover above the tablets of the covenant law, so that he will not die” (Leviticus 16:12-13). The High Preist then had to sacrifice a bull to make atonement for himself and his family on the Kapporet before he could make atonement for the nation. 

The Temple system was all about atoning for the sins of the local community around it. In other words, Yom Kippur was about dealing with Israel’s regular and ongoing struggles. All year long, Israelites would approach the Temple with their sacrifices for festivals, gratitude, peace, and sin offerings. All year, the Temple was collecting the sins and praises of the people. Then, one day a year, the Temple would clear out all this collected sin. After all of the pre-requisite ἱλαστήριονs were taken care of, the high priest would place the nation’s sins on two goats: sacrificing one and driving one out in the wilderness – a clear allusion to Cain and Abel, and Joseph and his brothers. 

Sin dehumanizes and destroys relationships – Atonement is fundamentally about repairing this today. Rather than functioning as an altar for the appeasement of an angry deity, the mercy seat was the very locus of divine presence and covenantal renewal for a community of people. This God was not about making people live in fear but about restoring loving kindness and blessing to their world. As such, removing the Curse from Genesis 3 that we humans casually hold on to is a pre-requisite to the further work God has in mind for every human. 

Atonement was about the individual dealing with their personal sins and the societal consequences around them. Sin is never a “personal” issue – it always influences how we relate to people. Here, the sprinkling of blood symbolizes sacrificing our old ways for purification, forgiveness, and the restoration of relationships between people and their God. The Temple provided a system, a working metaphor for God’s people to work through Atonement and forgiveness. It is a scene steeped in the imagery of Genesis 1-4 and restoring relational faithfulness rather than a mere transaction to satisfy wrath.

Likewise, in the broader Greco-Roman context of the New Testament, ἱλαστήριον (hilastērion) carried connotations far removed from the modern legalistic mindset. “Even the pagans” made propitiation. They assumed they were at the mercy and grace of the gods too: you were either a king or a sinner based on what the gods dictated for your life, and Caesar controlled the Order of the world. 

In these cultures, altars and sacrificial rites were about settling debts or appeasing offended powers, about maintaining balance and order—whether in civic ritual or in the imperial cult. If you wanted healthy children or a successful business, it was up the to will of the gods. These sacrifices were meant to obtain divine favor and guarantee salvation for people – the religious narratives around ἱλαστήριονs were also controlled by the state. Sacrifices were meant to reestablish economic, social, and political harmony by paying for the sins of the people against their gods. Compared to this reality during the New Testament, today’s Christians should ask what makes their propitiation different. If that’s what the pagan gods did, what does our God want for His children (Matthew 7:11, James 1:13-18)?

The propitiation of Christ, set in the Greco-Roman world, was not like the ones that already existed. It was not the kind we’ve come to believe today or expect when we personally demand “justice” for the wrongs we’ve experienced. Jesus said His death would be “just as” Moses lifting up the bronze serpent⁴ – a story about us facing our own sins and owning the grumbling of our egoic perspectives (John 3:14-17). 

There’s a part of many Christians that want (their assumed view of) Hell to exist for those we hate: If we are honest with ourselves, this assumed Divine wrath is a projection of our own insecurity and existential uncertainty. Humans need a sacrifice for our sins, not so much God. He has less of an Ego and a bigger picture in mind.

B. Paul’s Use of ἱλαστήριον in Romans 3:25-26

When Paul declares in Romans 3:25 that God “presented Christ as a ἱλαστήριον,” he is evoking these deep, multi-layered images. Rather than depicting Jesus’ death as a brutal penalty inflicted by a demanding Judge, Paul is tapping into a rich tapestry of sacrificial imagery that speaks to relational renewal and divine love. The Gospel narrative isn’t one of criminal justice but about how humanity’s sin would even kill God, and then make us deal with it ourselves. 

Paul’s audience, steeped in both Jewish ritual tradition and the Greco-Roman sacrificial economy, would have understood hilastērion as a symbol of reconciliation and also understood how Scripture was using that secular word in a radically different way. Jesus’ propitiation is a divine means to restore the broken relationship not just between Creator and creation, but also between humans (1 John 4:20). 

In the first century, both Jews and Greeks could understand the personal implications of the Gospel: we had to kill God for us to finally realize the cancerous extent of our Egos. When the Roman soldier looked up and blurted, “Surely this was the Son of God,” the gospel writers were suggesting that the issue humans struggle with is we think we control and dictate God for others. The first converts would have understood this and, after facing their bronze serpents, finally found peace and freedom.

“The grace of God is not opposed to effort, it is opposed to earning. Earning is an attitude; effort is an action.”

Dallas Willard

1 John 1:5-10 makes it clear that the result of the Gospel John preached is the ability to walk in the Light without condemnation (Romans 8:1) and to confess our sins freely together so we can be healed. This is not “propitiation” to an angry God out to prove us all wrong. This is propitiation between insecure humans – we demand payment even from God, but God is not that way. The sacrifice of Christ was meant to help us with His one commandment: to love one another as He loved us. If PSA teaches us something it’s that forgiveness is never free: it requires sacrifice and feels like death.

Let’s sit with that and be real with ourselves – no one else is here: How hard is it to forgive someone who has crossed you? Once you have a grudge, especially a well-deserved one, how much “propitiation” does it take for you to finally be willing to forgive them? Do you ever avoid forgiving people like the plague? Are there conditions to your forgiveness? Would you invite them over for dinner? Is it easier to make judgments about a person and keep them at a distance? What about politics, religion, and your family? What about the controversial topics tearing our nation apart? What about “doctrine”?

To risk being redundant, we humans demand propitiation – not God. Even the way we look at the word “justice” is from an upside-down, egoic perspective. We have to be able to understand everything – the rest we blanket over with assumptions. Our sins are real and wreak havoc in the relationships we interact with: from family to work to politics. We demand our pound of flesh while defending our position. Paul said Jesus has broken down the “middle wall of partition” between Jews and Gentiles, creating one new humanity and reconciling both groups to God (Ephesians 2:14). American Christianity builds walls and burns bridges, and all for “theological” reasons.

By reducing hilastērion to a simple criminal justice mechanism, PSA oversimplifies Paul’s bigger concept, avoids the human condition, and also ignores the radical subversiveness of the biblical Gospel message. The Evangelical version requires an entire Systematic Theology to support it with equally ambiguous and oddly specific doctrines. PSA ignores the rest of the human being that needs atonement. Sharing from experience, we have a lot more issues than just a hanging criminal charge. Instead, PSA flips the atonement of Christ on its head and makes it a tool for judging people so “we” can feel safe and justified. Penal Substitutionary Atonement is a watered-down version of the Gospel, one that is easier to have faith in than actually dealing with our sins and mortality.

In cultures that prized legal transactions, Paul’s invocation of hilastērion turns that logic on its head and exposes that every Emporer has no clothes. It suggests that the power of the Cross is not in satisfying an abstract requirement for punishment but in inaugurating a new covenant—one defined by agape love, relational renewal, and the transformative love of God for today’s Creation.

C. Beyond a Transaction: The Covenant and Community in ἱλαστήριον

Seen in its proper context, ἱλαστήριον challenges the idea that salvation is merely an individual transaction to gain entry into a future concept not yet here (another blog post for another time). Instead, it underscores the communal and spiritual dimensions of atonement. In the Old Testament tradition, Yom Kippur sacrifices were not about erasing individual guilt through a punitive payment so God could be happy with us again. It was about providing a common narrative and means for individuals, families, and communities to seek atonement. It demanded allowances for the “stranger” and “alien” (i.e. pagans and Gentiles) as a continual reminder that we are all strangers and aliens. This was how Israel, and the Church, would mature in love to become a kingdom of priests. 

This provided a way to sort through the tensions arising among the individual and the interconnectedness of the collective society. Yom Kippur, like the New Testament, was not meant to be viewed from the top level down but from the subjective individual up. Atonement was for every person and all people, and never to enable Ego’s oppression of another human being. God always speaks in ways that cut between bone and marrow, blood and genetics. This, by the way, is one way Jesus (the logos) “fulfilled” (telos) the Law.

The Temple and the Law were tutors, instructing people through atonement in their lives and as a holistic community. Atonement was about restoring healthy people and relationships (“fellowship“) through a common spiritual language and model with their God. It’s always human selfishness and insecurity that gets in the way of such things. In this light, Jesus’ death becomes the means by which God reestablishes a living, breathing community—one that is called to embody divine love and justice in a world marred by division and injustice.

This perspective invites us to consider a more participatory and present understanding of salvation, one where the believer is not a passive recipient of abstract legal satisfaction, but an active participant in a renewed relationship with God and with one another. Such a view resonates powerfully with the radical teachings of Jesus, who repeatedly demonstrated that His mission was one of healing, liberation, and inclusive community. Such a perspective would authentically and organically do what a lot of church programming has been failing to do.

Truthfully, Penal Substitutionary Atonement only works within a well-defined Systematic Theology. It’s propped up with other oddly specific and reductionistic concepts that, once you pull any one thing out, the whole house of cards topples. PSA is logically inconsistent with an honest and historical understanding of Scripture.

II. Historical Development: From Anselm to the Reformation

Understanding the modern prominence of PSA requires us to trace its historical origins. Far from being a timeless or biblically inherent doctrine, PSA emerged from a specific historical context—a context steeped in medieval honor codes and later reframed by the legalistic sensibilities of the Reformation.

A. Anselm’s Cur Deus Homo and the Feudal Code

In 1098, Anselm of Canterbury penned Cur Deus Homo, a treatise that reimagined atonement through the lens of feudal honor. Anselm argued that humanity, in its sinfulness, had dishonored God, and that Christ’s death was necessary to restore divine honor by satisfying the offended sense of justice. This model, while innovative, was deeply embedded in the social and legal codes of medieval Europe, where honor and satisfaction were central concepts.

Anselm’s vision didn’t emerge from a careful reading of the Old Testament sacrificial system; rather, it was a philosophical response to the cultural milieu of his day. The Catholic Church had turned Atonement into something you could buy. His feudal framework transformed the atonement into a penal transaction—a moral and legal debt that needed to be paid in full. For many, this explanation provided a seemingly coherent rationale for the otherwise incomprehensible reality of Christ’s sacrifice. However, it still fell for the same trap of turning Jesus into our image of Kings and Lords – a concept Jesus had already turned upside down.

B. The Reformation and the Rise of Penal Substitution

Fast forward to the Reformation, and we see Anselm’s ideas reinterpreted through the prism of Renaissance rationalism. Figures like John Calvin further developed the concept of penal substitution, aligning it with the retributive justice systems of their time. It was at least different than the Catholic Church. Calvin’s Geneva was a place where the language of law, punishment, and guilt was not only common but even celebrated. In such a context, of course, the idea that Christ paid off God’s assumed wrath as a legal requirement for salvation made sense then. It was both politically compelling and culturally resonant.

It shouldn’t surprise us then that Geneva, just like other Christians in the third and fourth centuries, would use Christ as a means to execute humans. This clearly shows the theological failure of such systems and should make modern Churches pause and reflect on how they use their “gospel” as a weapon for enmity instead of reconciliation. PSA is an old idea that isn’t old enough.

It’s also important to note that the Reformation’s adoption of PSA marked a significant departure from earlier patristic views. Early church fathers such as Irenaeus, Athanasius, and Gregory of Nazianzus emphasized themes of Recapitulation, Christus Victor, theosis, Moral Influence, and others—understandings of atonement that stress Christ’s victory over personal sinfulness and the potential for human transformation into the likeness of God in entirely different frames. These perspectives celebrated the cross not as a site of divine wrath but as the ultimate redemption through God’s self-giving love. It also remembers that Atonement wasn’t completed at the Cross, but at the Resurrection and is an unfolding reality we are to carry in our lives.

“The atonement is not a matter of divine bookkeeping, but of divine self-giving.”

Jurgen Moltmann

Today, when it comes to Atonement Theories, PSA is not the only theory – it’s just the loudest one. I think, individually, we all understand that the Atonement of Christ was not just a transaction. Evidence of other Atonement Theories shows up in our worship songs when we praise Him as Lord and Savior, or how we have victory in Him. The problem with most PSA die-hards is that it is the only Atonement they accept and enforce.

Substitutionary Atonement, without the Western criminal justice assumptions of our time that were non-existent then, still works, deals with our sins, and plays well with others. From René Girard’s Scapegoat Theory to N.T. Wright’s New Revolution & restorative atonement with major Christus Victor undertones, and Jorgan Moltman’s Crucified God to the Christian Mystics’ Self-Nullification and Divine Union, there is a much deeper discussion than what’s found within the echo chambers of most Evangelical churches. Penal Substitutionary Atonement is just the spoiled child making the most noise and needing a lot of love.

III. The Biblical Vision of Salvation: Community, Liberation, and Cosmic Reconciliation

The narrow lens of PSA distorts the richness of the Gospel. We’ve just thrown out a bunch of other theories and perspectives. Instead of going through all of them or rearticulating a lot of what’s already been covered, a discussion about “What is ‘salvation’?” would help us leave this post asking better questions. This touches on a lot more concepts than just “salvation”: righteousness, justification, sanctification, Heaven and Hell…Systematic Theology works like that. A thorough reading of both the Old and New Testaments reveals a vision of salvation that is fundamentally individual, communal, participatory, and simpler. 

A. Salvation in the Old Testament: Yeshua as National Liberation

In the Hebrew Scriptures, the concept of salvation (yeshua) is never an individualistic legal transaction; it is, rather, a corporate restoration. Salvation was about a group of people in the Old Testament being saved from an outside threat and restored to prosperity. The Exodus narrative stands as a testament to this view: God’s liberation of Israel from Egyptian bondage was not merely an act of divine forbearance, but a comprehensive reordering of community, identity, and destiny. Through acts of deliverance, God established Israel as a covenant missional community—called to live out justice, mercy, and righteousness. The Torah was about establishing a covenant of Blessing and Life, and avoiding Cursing and Death – kind of like the Gospel.

Prophetic writings further underscore this communal vision. Isaiah 45:17 proclaims that Israel will be “saved by the Lord with an everlasting salvation,” a promise that encompasses not only personal deliverance but the restoration of a people. God told Ezekiel, “I will put my laws into their minds, and write them on their hearts ,and I will be their God, and they shall be my people” (Ezekial 36:26). Zechariah 9:9, with its vivid imagery of a righteous and victorious king, reinforces the idea that salvation is intertwined with the establishment of a just and peaceful society.

Jesus, in His earthly ministry, consistently reclaims this vision “My house will be called a house of prayer for all nations” (Isaiah 56:7). In Luke 4:18-19, He announces the Kingdom of Heaven with language steeped in Old Testament prophetic tradition: to bring good news to the poor, freedom to the oppressed, and the year of the Lord’s favor. Salvation was no longer dependent on your relationship to the “winning side”, but available now and to anyone. Here, the message is not about individual guilt or penal satisfaction to avoid distant eternal damnation but about the holistic liberation of individuals and communities into the Kingdom of Heaven now.

Salvation and freedom are when we are saved from ourselves. It’s also the cost to follow Jesus, one He warned us to count beforehand (Luke 14:28-29).

B. The New Testament: A Radical Inversion of Legalistic Salvation

The New Testament builds on these themes of communal and cosmic salvation but isolates the frame on the individual conscious holon (c.f Ken Wilber)⁵. Paul’s letters offer a vision of redemption that is less about satisfying a legal debt and more about participating in the transformative life of Christ. Over and over again, Paul’s invitation is for people to die to themselves just as he dies every die. This is about Ego, or rather Ego-Death, and we finally live in a moment in history we all can fully understand it. In passages like Romans 6:4 and Galatians 2:20, Paul emphasizes that believers are “crucified with Christ” and “raised to walk in newness of life.” These statements are not legalistic formulas for escape from punishment but declarations of a profound, participatory union with the risen Lord that frees us from our worst enemy – ourselves.

“The atonement is God’s way of absorbing evil and returning good.”

Greg Boyd

Moreover, Paul’s theology of reconciliation—as seen in Colossians 1:15-20—encompasses a cosmic scope, from which we get out of ideas of Recapitulation and Christus Victor that appear in our hymns and choruses. Here, the atonement is described as how God is “reconciling all things to Himself through Christ’s blood.” This language shatters the narrow individualism of PSA by asserting that Christ’s sacrifice mends not only the relationship between God and humanity but also the fractured bonds within creation itself.

C. The Cross as a Symbol of Divine Solidarity

Perhaps the most striking counterpoint to PSA is found in the very nature of the cross. Rather than depicting a divine courtroom where punishment is handed down, the cross stands as the ultimate symbol of God’s solidarity with both the suffering and the sinners. In a world that often equates power with domination, the cross upends this dynamic by revealing a God who identifies with the broken and the downtrodden. James Cone’s seminal observation—that “the cross is God’s solidarity with the oppressed” (and I’d add the perpetrator) —captures this reorientation perfectly. We’re all guilty and all victims of each other.

Christ’s death is not a transactional payment to satisfy divine justice; it is the profound act of entering into human pain, suffering, and isolation in order to bring about healing, hope, and transformation. It was the catalyst that began a revolution against Ego. Such an understanding of the cross invites us to see atonement as an invitation to communal participation in the redemptive work of God—a call to live out a life of justice, mercy, and radical love. It’s also a call to seriously get our crap together. Self-honesty, empathy, and brave acts of being truthful in love, hypothetically, would become the hallmark of such a Gospel-centric people.

IV. The Theological and Pastoral Implications of a Restorative Gospel

The implications of rejecting a purely penal model in favor of a more holistic, biblical vision of atonement are profound—both theologically and pastorally.

When God the Father is depicted as demanding a punitive sacrifice to satisfy His wrath, the relational nature of the Divine becomes distorted. His nature becomes duplicitous and distant. The image of God as an angry judge in need of appeasement undermines the biblical portrayal of God as loving, compassionate, and intimately involved in the lives of His people. NT Wright, Sarah Coakley (a Feminist theologian), and others have been warning that PSA risks portraying God as a cosmic abuser, with the Son cast in the role of a sacrificial victim rather than as the embodiment of divine love and intention.

By contrast, a holistic and biblical model of atonement—one that sees the cross as a means of both individual reconciliation and cosmic healing—allows us to understand the divine frames of justice and mercy as God sees it. This view does not ignore the reality of sin and brokenness; rather, it confronts these realities head-on by offering a path to renewal and transformation. In this light, the cross becomes not a site of wrath but a beacon of hope and healing, a sign for our own Egos about the “cost” of this salvation.

“The church has no meaning apart from the message, and it has no message unless it lives it and proclaims it.”

Francis Schaeffer

The Impact on Pastoral Care and Spiritual Formation

The ramifications of a shame-based, egoic, punitive theology extend far beyond seminary debates; they touch the very core of pastoral care and spiritual formation. It forms the assumption that ministers think about”ministry” from within. We stand on centuries of manmade assumptions and the work it has done. Research in neuroscience and psychology has shown that spiritual practices steeped in guilt and shame can exacerbate anxiety, depression, uncertainty, and self-loathing. Science has also “proven” other things humanity already knew, like acceptance, honesty, mindfulness, peace, love, and spirituality.

We all know from practice that Ego has an easy time thriving with a white-washed Jesus mask, tucked behind the established walls of “church.” When believers internalize a message that emphasizes inherent unworthiness, the transformative potential of the Gospel is lost in a mire of condemnation. When our only objective is to get people into “Heaven,” it becomes a competition to see whose Ego is best at it.

Alternatively, embracing a biblical model of atonement highlights individual restoration and opens all communities for healing. Restorative practices—echoing the biblical concept of metanoia, or transformative repentance—promote an environment where believers are encouraged to confront their brokenness, seek forgiveness, and experience genuine transformation. The pastoral task, then, becomes one of guiding individuals and communities toward a relational encounter with God—a God who offers not condemnation, but an invitation to a renewed, vibrant humanity (i.e. atonement).

“Cheap grace is the deadly enemy of our Church. We are fighting today for costly grace.”

Dietrich Bonhoeffer

This broader vision of atonement carries significant implications for the Church. When the Gospel is reduced to a formula of sin and punitive satisfaction, it risks alienating those who are already marginalized—those for whom shame and guilt have become an overwhelming burden. By recovering the biblical vision of communal shalom, the Church can reclaim its role as a prophetic community that embodies God’s justice, mercy, and love in every dimension of life.

The Church is called not to be an institution that merely disseminates doctrine, but a living body that challenges cultural norms and speaks truth to meaning. This should have real, psychological, spiritual, and practical impacts on people’s lives, communities, industries, the sciences, and how we do business. By embracing a Gospel that is both intellectually robust and individually integrated, we open the door to a renewed witness—one that speaks to the heart of human experience and points toward a future where grace triumphs over retribution. It’s individuals worshipping in Spirit and Truth and living out Truth in Love. It’s also solidly grounded in Scripture. If we haven’t noticed, pastors, the World and the Church could use it.

“The pastor is not a religious professional whose primary skill is to help people be religious but a Christian brother or sister whose primary calling is to follow Jesus.”

Eugene Peterson

An Invitation to Evangelicals: Searching Scripture and Ourselves

If this multifaceted critique of Penal Substitutionary Atonement began to sift a previously assumed solid foundation, the challenge becomes clear. The Church, and every individual within it—from parishioners to ministers—must be willing to engage in a thoughtful, honest search of the Scriptures and of our own hearts. In many ways, we need more “heretics” now more than ever. The task is not to reject the passion of the Cross but to frame it accurately within the context of God’s radical love and biblical narrative, as Sciprture and reason would have it.

“Heretics are the new leaders. The ones who challenge the status quo, who get out in front of their tribes, who create movements.” 

Seth Godin

This invitation is both a pastoral and a parishioner call to action. It requires us to ask difficult questions and have even tougher conversations: Do we want a faith that reduces the Gospel to a transaction—a formulaic accounting of sin and penalty? Or do we desire a faith that celebrates the transformative power of divine solidarity—a Gospel that invites us into a living relationship with the God who heals and restores? Are we willing to admit the influence of Ego on our theology and practice?

By challenging the assumptions embedded in PSA, we are not abandoning tradition – far from it; we are reclaiming the ancient fullness of a Gospel that is as pre-historic as it was revolutionary. In the pages of Scripture, the narrative of atonement is not one of cold legalism but of passionate love—a love that dares to enter into the depths of human suffering, stand in solidarity with the oppressed, hold to Truth, and offer life and connection. It is the antidote to Ego, arrogance, apathy, and hatred.

Let us, therefore, commit ourselves to a rigorous and honest engagement with Scripture. Let us explore the depths of ἱλαστήριον, not as a token of divine wrath, but as a symbol of divine mercy—a mercy that transforms sin into opportunity, isolation into communion, and despair into hope. In doing so, we honor not only the historical witness of the early Church but also the living, dynamic revelation of God in Christ.

Conclusion: Embracing a Gospel of Radical Love and Renewal

The cross of Christ is not a dark ledger marking humanity’s debts; it is the radiant intersection of divine mercy and human possibility. As we have seen, a close reading of the Scriptures—examining the layered meaning of terms like ἱλαστήριον through the biblical narrative—reveals an atonement that is less about punitive satisfaction and more about the restoration of relationship. The historical trajectory of atonement theology, from Anselm through the Reformation and beyond, shows that the penal model is neither the only nor the most biblically faithful interpretation of the Cross or the Resurrection.

Instead, we find in the biblical narrative a call to embrace a more holistic, personal vision of salvation—one that sees God’s redemptive work as a cosmic reconciliation that mends the fractures of our broken world beginning from where we are. The Gospel invited us not to see the world from a sinner’s perspective but from the Divine perspective⁶. This vision calls us to participate in a Gospel that is transformative, restorative, and rooted in the love of a God who is not distant or wrathful but deeply involved in the pain and promise of our human experience.

There are two, at least, Gospels in America, and one of them is off. However, the facade has fallen and all of our bluffs have been called. It’s an exciting time when we can’t argue ourselves out of it.

Or we could keep trying.

*Footnotes

1. The concept of Hell in Christian theology has been debated for centuries. While the traditional view of Eternal Conscious Torment (ECT) has been dominant in Western Christianity, alternative interpretations such as Annihilationism and Universal Reconciliation have gained traction in recent years. Annihilationism, supported by theologians like John Stott and Edward Fudge, posits that the unsaved will cease to exist rather than suffer eternally. This view is based on biblical passages that speak of destruction and perishing, and isn’t the only view (e.g., Matthew 10:28, 2 Thessalonians 1:9). ↩︎
2. The Greek term ἱλαστήριον (hilastērion) appears only in Romans 3:25 and Hebrews 9:5 and is used to translate the Hebrew כַּפֹּרֶת (kapporet), the mercy seat on the Ark of the Covenant. In Paul’s letter to the Romans, hilastērion is not deployed to depict an act of divine retribution or the mere appeasement of God’s wrath; rather, it signifies the means by which Christ’s sacrificial death ushers in a new covenant of reconciliation. Paul presents the atonement as a profound demonstration of God’s love and justice—God’s righteous judgment is satisfied not by a vindictive outburst, but by a self-offering that restores believers to a loving relationship with Him. Likewise, Hebrews employs hilastērion in the context of the sanctuary to illustrate that the mercy seat is about cleansing and restoration rather than punitive punishment. In this way, the biblical use of hilastērion underscores that atonement transcends any narrow, penal substitutionary framework centered solely on God’s wrath; instead, it is a holistic act of divine mercy designed to renew fellowship between God and His people. ↩︎
3. In Scripture, God’s wrath is never a capricious, vindictive outburst but a righteous, corrective force—an expression of divine truth and love designed to confront sin and restore order. Just as a loving parent may become indignant when witnessing the oppression or callous behavior of a child, God’s anger arises when humanity becomes stubborn and indifferent to injustice. This wrath is not about spite or control; rather, it is a necessary, transformative emotion that drives believers toward repentance and renewal (cf. Exodus 34:6–7; Psalms 6:1; Isaiah 48:9). This biblical portrayal asserts that while God’s wrath against sin is real, it functions to communicate His unyielding commitment to holiness and justice. It serves as the divine impetus that challenges us to address the sins we hide from ourselves—a call that, when met with humility, leads to a deeper, restorative relationship with God and others. ↩︎
4. The story of the bronze serpent is found in Numbers 21:4-9. After leaving Egypt, the people immediately complained about not having fresh water. They specifically blamed Moses for it. So, God sent a plague of venomous serpents (“seraphim“). When the Israelites were bitten by venomous snakes in the wilderness, God instructed Moses to make a bronze serpent and set it on a pole. Those who looked at it were healed, prefiguring Christ’s crucifixion according to John 3:14-15. ↩︎
5. From Ken Wilber’s integral perspective, a holon is an entity that is simultaneously a complete whole in itself and an integral part of a larger system—a concept originally drawn from Arthur Koestler’s work on the “Great Chain of Being.” In the context of Christian Atonement Theories, this idea reframes atonement as more than a legal or transactional remedy for sin; it becomes a dynamic, holistic process in which each believer, while fully whole as an individual, is also an essential component of humanity as a whole. Thus, the redemptive work of Christ not only addresses the individual condition of sin but also restores the integrity and unity of the entire community, reflecting a divine order in which every part is both autonomous and yet inextricably linked to a greater whole. This is a good beginning point for a working definition of “holy”. ↩︎
6. The concept of adopting a “God perspective” is not unique to Christianity but also appears in other spiritual traditions. In Christianity, thinkers like Meister Eckhart have emphasized the transformative process of detaching from the ego in order to align oneself with the divine will, noting that true union with God requires transcending the self (Eckhart, The Complete Mystical Works). N.T. Wright also speaks to this idea, suggesting that Christians are called to see the world through the lens of Christ, allowing His life and teachings to reshape their perspectives and actions (Wright, Simply Jesus). This aligns with Dallas Willard’s notion of spiritual formation, which involves a deep, inward transformation of the heart and mind through the Holy Spirit, moving beyond ego-centeredness toward a life modeled after Christ (Willard, The Divine Conspiracy). Similarly, in Buddhism, the concept of “Buddha nature” encourages letting go of self-centered attachments in pursuit of enlightenment, a shift towards compassion and interconnectedness. Psychological research supports this, highlighting how overcoming ego-driven behavior through mindfulness and empathy leads to healthier relationships and greater well-being (Siegel, The Developing Mind). ↩︎