The latest podcast from Bart Campolo is an interview with a man who deconverted from the Christian faith only to convert back later. He refers to his time out of faith as atheism.
I am always suspicious of this declaration while simultaneously being hesitant to doubt the declaration. I was a Christian for about 30 years and many Christians interpret my leaving as evidence that I was never one in the first place. Would I not be doing the same thing to doubt his conclusion?
Perhaps.
Still, I wonder if it is merely a misnaming of an event.
I live in Salt Lake City and I know a number of folks who have deconverted from Mormonism. However, not all of them became Atheists. Many ended up in some other Christian denomination. Others slipped into less definable spiritualities focused on energies, crystals, and auras.
There is a difference between leaving "A" faith - and leaving faith. For about a year or so after I left Christianity, I researched other religions. Yes, I had left Christianity... but I had to be something... right?? My belief in the supernatural and "something else" being out there was not gone. Even once I had made the mental transition to atheism, it took a while before my heart and the superstitions burned into my psyche were on board.
So, when I listened to Josh's story... I don't hear a once atheist. I hear a guy who became less than dazzled by his faith... had his 40 days in the wilderness... and then landed in a different version of his faith.
I suppose people can be atheists and convert back to faith.
But, more often than not, I think describing one's transition time as "atheism" just adds drama and street cred to the story (whether the teller is intentionally doing so or not).
The following article was printed in Youth Specialties a few years back. Many Christians thought Bart's views were heresy, so the article was pulled. The Journal of Student Ministries hosted it for a while, but they seem to have dropped it as well. All that to say, I would link if it were out there, but since it doesn't seem to be, I am going to paste it here.
It may or may not be heretical, but I am in complete agreement with Bart.
______________________________
The Limits of God’s Grace
Written by Bart Campolo
A few years ago, after being politely asked to depart early from yet another speaking engagement for giving the wrong answer to a question about the limits of God’s mercy, I decided it wasn’t fair to keep sneaking up on unsuspecting Evangelicals.
Strange as it seems to me, I know all too well that to proclaim a God compassionate enough to seek the rescue of every one of his children—and powerful enough to pull it off—is a dangerous scandal to such folks. In a very real way, they don’t even hope for universal salvation. After all, without the fear of their unsaved loved ones’ eternal damnation, how would they motivate one another for outreach and missionary service?
And yet, almost everywhere I go, I meet people—especially young people—who are not motivated at all by such fear. On the contrary, these people are utterly horrified by the notion of a Heavenly Father who essentially says to his children, “I love you, but if for any reason you fail to accept that fact before your mortal body expires, I will kill and torture you for all eternity.” Especially if that same Heavenly Father holds in hand all the reasons the children do or don’t accept in the first place.
These are the people who ask me the questions that used to lead to my early departures, and who write me letters and emails like this one:
Dear Bart,
This might be kind of weird, but I have a question for you.
I lived and worked among the poor with Mission Year in the inner-city of Atlanta last year. When you came to visit my team, you told a story about how when you first started working in rough neighborhoods, you got to know a girl who was gang-raped as a nine-year-old and—after her Sunday School teacher told her God must have allowed it for a reason— rejected God forever. Because you believed God was indeed in control, and because you believed that girl’s lack of faith doomed her to eternal damnation, you decided that God must be a ‘cruel bastard.’ You sort of said the words inside my head out loud, words I had wanted to say for a long time.
Anyway, after putting this off for almost a year, I want to know how you reconciled that. How did you make it from, “God is a cruel bastard” back to “I can trust him”? I can’t seem to make that leap. Sometimes I begin to really trust him, but as soon as I think about my past abuse and those I know and love who are bound for Hell, it just doesn’t add up. I want to know the God you know—who apparently allows for horrible things in this world to happen, yet remains pure and holy and trustworthy and faithful and loving.
I don’t know if any of this makes sense to you, but as I was wrestling with it again today I was reminded of you and hoped you might be of some help.
Sarah
Dear Sarah,
Thank you for writing to me. Over the past few years, I have become convinced that yours is actually the single most important question in the world. As Rabbi Harold Kushner observes, “Virtually every meaningful conversation I’ve had with people about God has either started with that question or gotten around to it before long.” While I am sure my answer will not be as eloquent as his, I will do my best.
First of all, while I certainly believe my most cherished ideas about God are supported by the Bible (what Christian says otherwise?), I must admit they did not originate there. On the contrary, most of these ideas were formed during that difficult time I described to you, when I was suddenly disillusioned by the suffering and injustice I discovered in the inner-city—I suddenly did not trust the Bible at all. At that point, for the first time, I realized that people’s lives don’t depend on whether or not they believe in God, but rather on what kind of God they believe in. I also realized, for better or worse, that the only evidence I could rely on was that which I saw for myself.
What I saw then, and still see now, is a world filled with dazzling goodness and horrific evil, love and hate, beauty and ugliness, life and death. In the face of such clear dualities, it seemed to me then, and still seems to me now, that there are but a handful of spiritual possibilities:
* There are no spiritual forces. The material universe is all. Our lives bear no larger meaning, and those who hope for more hope in vain. In this case, considering that nine year-old rape victim, I despair.
* There is only one spiritual force at work in the universe, encompassing both good and evil. This world is precisely as this force wills it to be, and everything—including the rapes of children— happens according to its plan. In this case, again, I despair.
* There are two diametrically opposing spiritual forces at work in the universe, one entirely good and loving and the other entirely evil. Satan (or whatever one chooses to call that evil force) is most powerful and therefore will utterly triumph in the end. The suffering of that poor little girl is but a foretaste of the complete suffering that is to come for us all. In this case, of course, I despair.
* There are two opposing spiritual forces at work in the universe, one entirely good and loving and the other entirely evil. God (or whatever one chooses to call that good and loving force) is most powerful and therefore will utterly triumph in the end. The suffering of that poor little girl—evil’s doing—will somehow be redeemed, and she herself will be healed as part of the complete redemption and absolute healing that is to come for all of us. In this case—and in this case alone—I rejoice and gladly pledge my allegiance to this good and loving God.
I cannot prove or disprove any of these possibilities, of course, based on the evidence of my experience. What I know with certainty, however, is the one that makes me want to go on living, the one I choose for my own sake, the one I deem worthy of my allegiance.
I may be wrong in this matter, but I am not in doubt. If indeed faith is being sure of what we hope for, then truly I am a man of faith, for I absolutely know what I hope to be true: that God is completely good, entirely loving, and perfectly forgiving, that God is doing everything possible to overcome evil (which is evidently a long and difficult task), and that God will utterly triumph in the end, despite any and all indications to the contrary.
This is my first article of faith. I required no Bible to determine it, and—honestly—I will either interpret away or ignore altogether any Bible verse that suggests otherwise.
This first article of faith was the starting point of my journey back to Jesus, and it remains the foundation of my faith. I came to trust the Bible again, of course, but only because it so clearly bears witness to the God of love I had already chosen to believe in. I especially follow the teachings of Jesus because those teachings—and his life, death, and resurrection—seem to me the best expression of the ultimate truth of God, which we Christians call grace. Indeed, these days I trust Jesus even when I don’t understand him, because I have become so convinced that he knows what he’s talking about, that he is who he says he is, and that he alone fully grasps that which I can only hope is true.
Unfortunately for me, God may be very different from what I hope, in which case I may be in big trouble come Judgment Day. Perhaps, as many believe, the truth is that God created and predestined some people for salvation and others for damnation, according to God’s will. Perhaps such caprice only seems unloving to us because we don’t understand. Perhaps, as many believe, all who die without confessing Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior go to Hell to suffer forever. Most important of all, perhaps God’s sovereignty is such that although God could indeed prevent little girls from being raped, God is no less just or merciful when they are raped, and those children and we who love them should uncritically give God our thanks and praise in any case.
My response is simple: I refuse to believe any of that. For me to do otherwise would be to despair.
Some might say I would be wise to swallow my misgivings about such stuff, remain orthodox, and thereby secure my place with God in eternity. But that is precisely my point: If those things are true, then God might as well send me to Hell. For better or worse, I simply am not interested in any God but a completely good, entirely loving, and perfectly forgiving One who is powerful enough to utterly triumph over evil. Such a God may not exist, but I will die seeking such a God, and I will pledge my allegiance to no other possibility because, quite frankly, anything less is not worthy of my worship.
Please, don’t get me wrong. I am well aware that I don’t get to decide who God is. What I do get to decide, however, is to whom I pledge my allegiance. I am a free agent, after all, and I have standards for my God, the first of which is this: I will not worship any God who is not at least as compassionate as I am. If Mahatma Gandhi and my young friend who got gang-raped are going to Hell because they failed to believe the right stuff, then I suppose I am too, for the same reason. John Calvin—or Jerry Falwell for that matter—may well be right after all, but if they are I would rather cling to my glorious hope than accept their bitter truth just to save my own skin.
You can figure out the rest. I don’t hate God because I don’t believe God is fully in control of this world yet. Heck, God is not fully in control of me yet, even when I want God to be—so how could I possibly believe that God is making all the bad stuff happen out there in the streets? I don’t hate God because I believe God is always doing the best God can within the limits of human freedom, which even God cannot escape.
On that last point, consider for a moment the essential relationship between human freedom and love, and then consider the essential identity between love and God. If God is love and made us for love in God’s image, then God had no choice but to make us free, to leave us free, and to win us over to his Kingdom as free agents (which, evidently, is a long and difficult task). So God did, I believe, and so God will.
I don’t hate God because, although I suppose God kmows everything that can be known at any given point in time, I don’t suppose God knows or controls everything that is going to happen. I also don’t hate God because in more than 20 years on the street, I have seen too much of evil (and too much of my own, moving-in-the-right-direction but-still-pretty-doggone-sinful nature). I don’t hate God because it seems to me that this world is a battleground between good and evil, not a puppet show with just one person pulling all the strings. I don’t hate God because the God I have chosen to believe in isn’t hateable, and because I refuse to believe in the kind of God that is.
Now here is the good news: I may be entirely wrong, but even in my darkest hours, my God of love hasn’t stopped speaking to me. On the contrary, I hear God’s voice in places I never did before, always saying the same things, one way or another: I am with you. I’m sorry about all the pain. It hurts me, too, especially when my little ones suffer. I have always loved you, and I always will. Do the best you can, but don’t worry. Everything will be all right in the end. Trust me.
And I do. And I hope you will, too, sooner than later.
Your friend,
Bart
Of course, to believe in God the way I do is to change all the rules of ministry—especially of youth ministry. I still do my best to convince young people to accept Jesus as their personal Lord and Savior, but not because I’m afraid God will damn them to Hell if they don’t. On the contrary, I want the kids I love to follow Jesus because I genuinely believe following Jesus is the best kind of life. Eternity aside, I want them to be transformed by the Gospel right here and right now, for their sakes and for the sakes of all the lost and broken people out there who need them to start living as Jesus’ disciples. After all, the sooner we all start following Jesus by feeding the poor and freeing the oppressed, the sooner God’s will shall be done on earth as it is in Heaven.
Most of all, however, I evangelize people because, having discovered that they are the beloved children of my beloved God, I don’t want them to suffer one minute longer than they have to without knowing that most wonderful fact of life.
And I stay in the inner city, in spite of all the suffering and injustice I see here every day, because I can. No longer do I blame God for what is beyond his control or hate God for so much pain his little ones endure. Even in the midst of such ugliness, I can stay here because I am full of faith. I may not be sure of what I know anymore, but I am absolutely certain of what I hope for, and most of the time I manage to live in that direction.
I stay here for one more reason, of course: In places like this, nobody asks you to leave early because you can’t find the limits of God’s grace.
It is always interesting to me that many Christians get uncomfortable if you emphasize the love of God too much. They always want to toss in a "but".
Yes, God loves you but there is justice. Yes, God loves you but have you repented? Yes, God loves you but what about your sin?
Yes, but... Yes, but... Yes, but...
My boss always bristles in a staff meeting when someone says "Yes, but". She says the but nullifies the Yes. It is an oxymoron.
I have been flirting with Universalism over the past few years. Universalism believes in the complete reconciliation of God and man. As Julian of Norwich said in the 14th century “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well…” Somewhere along the way Universalism ceased to be a flirtation. It became a truth I see throughout scripture.
Romans 5:10For if, when we were God's enemies, we were reconciled to him through the death of his Son, how much more, having been reconciled, shall we be saved through his life!
Notice the two events here? Reconciliation and Salvation. I always saw them as the same thing, so why is Paul separating the two? I believe it is because we are reconciled. Period. So what is Salvation? I believe it is the process of becoming like Him.
Jesus said, "I have come that you might have life, and have it to the full".
Peter said that we are to work out our salvation. That verse never made sense to me earlier in my faith. Why did I need to work out a gift? I see now that I do not have to. The gift is reconciliation! AND God wants to gift us again by re-making us into the likeness of his Son.
God's love for me does not depend on me. His acceptance truly is unconditional. Now I am invited to move on in Him.
This makes sense to every parent. You want your child to become all they can. You want them to love and be loved. What could they do to make you turn away?
Not a thing.......
That doesn't mean we will not discipline or be disappointed with our children.... but turn away?
Never!
The Father of the prodigal eagerly awaits the return of the son.
Bart Campolo reminds us that 1 Cor. 13 is not a passage about romantic love. It is a passage about GOD! According to 1st John, God IS love! So let's read 1 Cor. 13 as it describes God.
God is patient
God is kind
God does not envy
God does not boast
God is not proud
God is not rude
God is not self-seeking
God is not easily angered
God keeps no record of wrongs
God does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth
I think I need to separate myself, once and for all, from the term Evangelical. Not because it is so bad, but because it mis- communicates as much as it communicates. Anyone from Tony Campolo to Jerry Falwell could be called an Evangelical. It is too broad.
To be honest, it has also become too negative. Evangelicals are often associated with being obnoxious and unkind. As I look at the attitudes and rhetoric of many Evangelicals, I am struck by how much they resemble the Pharisees of the Gospels.
For example, Tony Campolo recently had kind and hopeful things to say regarding prostitutes and homosexuals. This made a lot of Evangelicals uncomfortable. Here is a response from one of the naysayers:
"What does [Campolo] mean by referring to prostitutes and homosexuals as "precious children of God"? The bible calls people who love worldliness and reject Him his enemies (John 3:18, James 4:4), they are children of wrath (Eph. 2:1-3). Also it says in Psalm 7:11 that God is angry with the wicked everyday. The bible also says that those who practice these things will not inherit the kingdom of heaven (Eph. 5:3-6). These are hard truths found in scripture. I find no pleasure in this. I guess I just do not understand what Campolo means here."
The thing is, technically, the Pharisees were not wrong; but they had a horrible attitude about people. Jesus was willing to put the rules on hold for the sake of people. The gentleman I quoted above would have been the first to pick up a stone and throw it at the prostitute. Did Jesus consider prostitutes his enemy? Did prostitutes consider Jesus an enemy?
I have been following the reactions of Evangelicals about Bart Campolo's article "The Limits of God's Grace". I loved the article, but there are MANY who hate it. They call Bart a heretic, an idolater... and then they get nasty. Personally, Bart has become my spiritual hero. (Click here for a great message by him)
The reaction of much of the Evangelical community toward Bart and his father Tony, is similar to how the Pharisees reacted to Jesus. The Campolos befriend the untouchables and sinners... just like Jesus. They put people over dogma... just like Jesus. They irritate the religious community... just like Jesus!
Coming out of the closet seems to be very chic'. Gays started it, but now everyone is doing it. It seems more and more people are taking a look inside, poking around the dark places, trying to find out who is really in there.
For me, when I poke around, I find a very unorthodox theologian. It makes me nervous to see that staring back at me, but it sure explains a lot.
I suppose this unorthodoxy started only a few years after my conversion. I was 18 and working/schooling at a ministry down in Texas. Some friends and I went to hear a preacher who was known for his hard/no compromise message. He was a talanted speaker, and he had the audience mesmerized. He just didn't seem happy. In fact, I was quite sure he was angry. He went on and on about luke-warm christians and counterfiet conversions.
Then suddenly, he got happy. He started to talk about judgement day. He described in detail the suffering that would be waiting in Hell for those who mocked God and his children. I am not sure, but I think he started salivating at this point. He couldn't wait for sinners to get their portion of this.
I left that night perplexed. I believed in eternal damnation, but I never hoped it on anyone. Is God angry? Does he get as excited as this preacher did about sending people to Hell?
After this, I started to notice how much time my brothers in Christ spent on who was going to Hell. They often said they were burdened over the souls "pouring into the Pit". They would say, "It breaks my heart that my neighbor is going to Hell", but then through conversation I would realize that they did not even like that neighbor. Was it really breaking their heart?
It seemed Hell was just one more item to show others that, "My God is better than your God, my faith is better than your faith".
I started to question Hell. In a previous post, I pasted a letter that I had written years ago to a number of my friends in which I shared my wrestlings.
In addition to the items I put in that letter, becoming a Father has really made me question Hell. What could Kathryn or Jacob do? What could they possibly do that would make me inflict such violence on them?
Brian McLaren's son said, "Dad... either Christianity is true and almost everyone I love is going to burn in Hell forever, or it's not true and life is meaningless."
This is the set of options Christianity presents the world with, but is that the God of Hope?
McLaren says that he struggles with being a pacifist. He says that, more accurately, he is a pacifist sympathiser.
I think that is how I feel about Universalism. I cannot, theologically, completely commit to it - but I sure want to. This quote from Bart Campolo summarizes how I feel lately..
"If indeed faith is being sure of what we hope for, then truly I am a man of faith, for I absolutely know what I hope to be true: That God is completely good, entirely loving, and perfectly forgiving, that God is doing all that He can to overcome evil (which is evidently a long and difficult task), and that God will utterly triumph in the end, despite any and all indications to the contrary.
This is my first article of faith. I required no Bible to determine it, and—honestly—I will either interpret away or ignore altogether any Bible verse that suggests otherwise.
This first article of faith was the starting point of my journey back to Jesus, and it remains the foundation of my faith. I came to trust the Bible again, of course, but only because it so clearly bears witness to the God of love I had already chosen to believe in. I especially follow the teachings of Jesus because those teachings—and his life, death, and resurrection—seem to me the best expression of the ultimate truth of God, which we Christians call grace. Indeed, these days I trust Jesus even when I don’t understand him, because I have become so convinced that He knows what He is talking about, that He is who he is talking about, and that He alone fully grasps that which I can only hope is true.
Unfortunately for me, God may be very different than I hope, in which case I may be in big trouble come Judgment Day. Perhaps, as many believe, the truth is that God created and predestined some people for salvation and others for damnation, according to His will. Perhaps such caprice only seems unloving to us because we don’t understand. Perhaps, as many believe, everyone who dies without confessing Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior goes to Hell to suffer forever. Most important of all, perhaps God’s sovereignty is such that although He could indeed prevent little girls from being raped, He is no less just or merciful when He doesn’t, and both those children and we who love them should uncritically give Him our thanks and praise in any case.
My response is simple: I refuse to believe any of that. For me to do otherwise would be to despair.
Some might say I would be wise to swallow my misgivings about such stuff, remain orthodox, and thereby secure my place with God in eternity. But that is precisely my point: If those things are true, God can give my place in Heaven to someone else, and go ahead and send me to Hell. For better or worse, I am simply not interested in any God but a completely good, entirely loving, and perfectly forgiving One who is powerful enough to utterly triumph over evil. Such a God may not exist, but I will die seeking Him, and I will pledge my allegiance to no other possibility, because, quite frankly, anything less is not enough to give me hope, to keep me alive, to be worth the trouble of believing."
