The Couch: psychology theology culture

This Sunday, I have the great privilege of teaching on the doctrine of adoption to our Core Theology class here at the Ridge.  It is the final class in the series, and, as I have come to discover in my studies, it is perhaps the most important – yet scarcely covered – doctrine in the Church.

J. I. Packer had this to say about the theology of adoption:

Our understanding of Christianity cannot be better than our grasp of adoption… If you want to judge how well a person understands Christianity, find out how much he makes of the thought of being God’s child, and having God as his Father. If this is not the thought that prompts and controls his worship and prayers and whole outlook on life, it means that he does not understand Christianity very well at all.

It appears we have no easy task at hand, and it appears I had a gaping gap in my understanding of my faith.  I have learned that Packer is very right in his assertion concerning the primacy of this theological understanding, and I pray that you gain at least a glimpse of the profound joy and warmth I have encountered over the past few weeks in my study of Paul’s most beautiful metaphor.  To put it succinctly, I have enjoyed this time with my Father, the God of the universe.

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Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed by thy name…

The primary relational metaphor God uses in accordance with his human creation is that of a Father.  “Adoption” is a word Paul uses five times to describe our relationship to the Father.  Trevor Burke, in his work, Adopted Into God’s Family, says this:

When we turn to the writings of the apostle Paul, the word ‘adoption’ is always employed metaphorically (never literally), and has no equal or parallel in the New Testament.  Adoption graphically and intimately describes the family character of Pauline Christianity, and is a basic description for Paul of what it means to be a Christian.

Taking the importance of the subject, one would think our collective theological community would have a pretty unified grasp of the doctrine, but there has been much debate about how adoption fits with other foundational soteriological doctrines.  For example, Radmacher writes of adoption as being the, “relational side of justification.”  This implies that adoption is not a separate doctrine, but a part of the doctrine concerning our legal declaration of righteousness before God.  Dr. Burke’s work is helpful again, as he says that, “even though adoption is related to justification, it is nevertheless an act of God’s grace different, distinct from, and additional to justification…adoption emphasizes aspects of the believer’s relationship to God that are not present in justification.”

Not only is there a misunderstanding concerning adoption being a subsection of justification, but there is also the tendency in our theological community to see adoption purely as a sterile judicial term – even if it stands apart from justification.  But as any adoptee or adopting parent will tell you, the process and declaration of adoption is loaded heavy with emotion.  Parents bringing their child home from an orphanage in Africa are not simply waiting for the court system to declare them the new legal guardians.  They are longing to embrace their baby boy.  A child in central Texas that has bounced around in the foster system is not eagerly anticipating the day in which they can be declared by the court to have a new name.  They are burning from the inside out, desperate to have a family to call their own – to be loved, cherished, and honored with all the benefits of being a daughter to someone.

Adoption, theologically and naturally, is awash with tears of joy that are meant to capture the eschatological imagery of God, the Father, dwelling among his children.  And we must embrace this emotionality when discussing adoption in order to fully grasp what Paul was saying when he used the metaphor.  Only then, can we allow this truth to invade our own stories of adoption so that we can live more fully as sons and daughters of the living God.

To put it concretely, a metaphor is a grammatical tool used to link two separate ideas together, which conventionally do not go together.  The functional result is an allowance for both ideas to abstractly interact with one another.  In our case of adoption (no pun intended), the two ideas or things interacting with one another is that of God and humans.  Paul metaphorically explains this creation-divine relationship in terms of the relationship of a father to his sons and daughters.  But not only does it present a picture of a father to his child, the adoption metaphor sheds further light on the idea of the sons and daughters being born of a different family, apart from God, the adopting Father.  This has huge implications in terms of our inheritance as believers.  We are not literally God’s children.  We are his creation.  But through our adoption we have been given full rights and benefits of living as a child of God; i.e. all the rights and benefits afforded to Christ.

Now, with a definition in hand, there are two contexts that must be explored to theologically squeeze all the juice out of this grammatical figure of speech.  That is, a metaphor has a literary context and a social context.  The literary context is key to making sure a metaphor is being employed in the literature.  Dr. Burke expounds on this nicely:

If we consider the phrase ‘my Father is the gardener’ (John 15:1) in the Johannine literary context, we can see that it is clearly being used as a metaphor.  John is not literally speaking about horticultural methods.  However, in a different context the same expression…would be a literal statement.

Again, we are not literally God’s offspring, thus the literary context shows us that a metaphor is being used.  Now the socio-historical context must be explored.

Every writer writes in a specific time and place in history.  Thus, Paul’s social framework is crucial to fully comprehending what he meant when he used the adoption metaphor.  On the flip side, we are also reading the text in a specific time and place in history.  Our socio-historical context may carry with it very different thoughts and emotions concerning adoption.  What Paul meant must be understood before we can apply it to our own time.  Looking at Paul’s context, we see that each church in which he wrote concerning adoption was geographically under Roman authority and rule.  Thus, some observations about a Roman background can be made.

One observation of Paul’s historical setting is that adoption was employed as a means of carrying on Roman imperial lineage.  Specifically, Nero, the Roman emperor that so heavily persecuted Christians, was adopted by Emperor Claudius just four years prior to Paul’s letter to the Roman church.  But adoption was not exclusive to royalty or the elite.  In ancient Roman culture adoption was also the means by which the average male family head could ensure an heir as well.

Another reason for adoption in the ancient Roman world was the continuance of the Roman family’s sacral cult.  Dr. Burke writes, “Of paramount importance to every Roman household was family worship; indeed, the ancient Roman world was awash with gods and each god was venerated in accordance with ancestral customs.”  Meaning, each male head had to ensure that the ancestral cult worship continued down the family line, and if no natural son were available, one would be adopted.

It is clear that Paul utilizes the metaphor knowing that his audience would be very familiar with the actual practice of adoption.   By so doing, he could draw on the richness of the metaphor while also communicating his own theological insights concerning our adoption as sons and daughters of God.  Let us now turn our attention to the five passages where the metaphor is mentioned.

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Wayne Grudem writes, “[adoption is the] act of God whereby he makes us members of his family.”  From the passages in which Paul utilizes the metaphor, three particularities about this act of God emerge:  The Plan, The Process, and The Promise.

Ephesians 1:5 illuminates the Father’s ultimate plan of redemption through the adoption of his creation.  It reads, “He predestined us to adoption as sons through Jesus Christ to Himself, according to the kind intention of His will…”  From the preexistence of creation, the Father intended a grand story in which his Creation would be brought into the fellowship of a divine “family.”  Each of us has been created in order to have a relationship with the God of the universe, and his primary way of relating to us is through the metaphor of being our Father.

This process of adoption, therefore, involves the following participants: the Father, the Son, the Spirit, and us.  Galatians 4:1-7 and Romans 8:15 show us that the Father is adopting us out of slavery into the freedom of being his child, which happens through our belief in his Son, Jesus Christ.  And our belief is not an act of our own accord, but a moment of grace that occurs by the power of the Holy Spirit.

Once we are brought into the family as sons and daughters, we have been afforded all the rights and benefits as if we were God’s actual children.  And the inheritance passed down by the King of Kings is unfathomably rich.  What the doctrine now shows us is that Paul is speaking in terms of what has been called, “already, not-yet” theology.  Romans 8:23 explains that, while we already have been given the benefits of living as God’s child, we have yet to experience the full reward, which is the redemption of our bodies.  Only when Revelation 21 is fulfilled will we truly be able to bask in the glory of what it actually means to be adopted into God’s family.

So what applications can be drawn from a proper understanding of the doctrine of adoption?  In no particular order, it seems that 4 primary applications take shape.

As members of God’s family we now have a moral responsibility to live in a way that is honoring to the Father.  The divine family has a certain character that is exemplified in the one true Son, and it is our charge to follow his lead.

Second, there is tremendous freedom associated with being adopted by God.  Knowing that we have, and one day will yet, inherit the keys to the Kingdom should set us free from the anxieties and fears of this world.  Said another way, our present and future adoption should lead us into a more eternal perspective.

Third, holding the keys to the Kingdom in our hands must compel us to tell others of the Father’s desire to adopt them as well.  Christ died on the cross so that ALL might be saved.  Our lives must be lived with a purpose of bringing more people into the divine family that we have so gracefully been given ourselves.

And finally, a family has unity.  Being that we are all now brothers and sisters in Christ, under the care of the Father, our interaction should always reflect a familial tone of love and grace.  Petty arguments and disputes have no place in a healthy family.

In conclusion, it is clear that adoption is the essential doctrine of which Paul explains what it means to be a Christian.  We were orphaned by our own sin, and the Father, in his infinite love, has brought us back into relationship with him.  Yet, we are not merely to be subjects in the King’s realm.  We are members of his royal family.  As such we have been given an inheritance that will last for all of eternity.

Now, let us begin to live like it…

The title of this post is important.  I have used the word “toward” because I want to capture the idea that I am merely attempting to move in a certain direction.  In no way have I arrived at what I concretely believe, and in no way can I distinctly describe where it is I am even going.  Knowing the general direction is a good as I could possibly hope for at this juncture, and I simply pray that I can arrive at enough outposts along the way to clearly explain the journey.  Today, I am at such an outpost, so I want to at least begin the discussion of my travels thus far. 

Existential psychology is a therapeutic framework largely rooted in secular understanding (by secular, I mean non-Christian).  However, many of the great existential thinkers historically have been followers of Jesus.  Soren Kierkegaard, for example, has been stated to be the father of existential thought, and his Christian faith is clearly at the center of his writings.  Nearly all existential thinkers, Christian and non-Christian alike, note Kierkegaard’s texts as being primary for an existential understanding.

Other theologians such as Paul Tillich and Rudolph Bultmann have contributed much to the realm of Christian existentialism, and while their theology is of the liberal bent, their work in the field must be studied deeply.  John Macquarrie and Karl Barth are two more theologians that have blazed substantial trails down the path I am traveling; but, as with all writing, we must read these works carefully and critically.

So, why has the Christian community seemingly lost its foothold in the realm of existential study, when it is clear that we have been among the pioneers in the field?  Has liberal theology or the names of those that have contributed to Christian existential thought scared most of us off the trail?  Or has the work of the secular realm been all too successful in excluding our voice from the conversation?

If my hypothesis is correct – that is, if a Christian existential therapy is the most Biblical and impactful therapeutic framework available to counselors and their patients, then we must push our understanding in this realm into unchartered territory.  We must run the risk of being labeled liberal.  We must do the painstaking work of integrating conservative theology with depth psychology, knowing that we will be attacked on both flanks.  Secular psychology will mock us, and evangelical theology will fear us, but these are not reason enough to depart from our present course.  Even if we do not arrive at our destination, let us pray that we at least extend the boundaries for those that come after us.

Let’s begin with a definition to guide the post.  Irvin Yalom, in his seminal book, Existential Psychotherapy, offers this definition, which we will adopt for our present study, “Existential psychotherapy is a dynamic approach to therapy, which focuses on concerns that are rooted in the individual’s existence.”  He continues:

The existential position emphasizes a different kind of basic conflict: neither a conflict with suppressed instinctual strivings nor one with internalized significant adults, but instead a conflict that flows from the individual’s confrontation with the givens of existence.  And I mean by ‘givens’ of existence certain ultimate concerns, certain intrinsic properties that are a part, and an inescapable part, of the human being’s existence in the world.

Yalom categorizes these inescapable givens as: death, freedom, isolation, and meaninglessness.  With all due respect to the greatest academic contribution in the field of existential psychotherapy, I am going to substitute my own labels for these categories that I hope will capture Yalom’s intent, while at the same time add nuance and clarification to the present discussion.  Thus, instead of death, freedom, isolation and meaninglessness, let us say: death, freedom, relationship, and meaning.

At first glance, these changes appear unnecessary, but, as we shall see, substituting relationship for isolation is a substantial shift.  And stating the positive “meaning” in place of the negative “meaninglessness” offers a subtle but extremely influential change as well.

Now it is important to note, that while the nature of these posts has more of an academic flair, I am still going to maintain the buffer of length with each installment in an attempt to keep the discussion clear and concise.  My hope is that it will one-day grow into something worth submitting or publishing to the academic community, but for now I offer it on the blog as a way of clarifying my own work as a Christian existential therapist – even if I am not fully aware of what that entails yet.

For the purpose of this present post, let us simply conclude with these thoughts.

We are created in the image of The Creator.  As a result we are intensely complex beings.  No psychology textbook could fully explain the wondrous beauty of our makeup, and no theology textbook could detail in sum all the aspects of what it means to be made in the imago dei.  Walking through the often-jangled mess of life requires a counselor (it indeed requires us all) to acknowledge this complexity inherent in our existence.

In order to follow Christ’s example we must be willing to acknowledge the innate anxiety we all feel concerning death.  Christ met the anxiety many times, most profoundly of which was in the garden at Gethsemane.  Furthermore, we have been created with volition.  Each of us has the freedom to engage with God as coauthors in life as our stories interact with and fulfill God’s story of redemption for a broken world.  As Christians, and specifically, as Christian therapists, we must be able to embrace this reality in order to carry out the work of our lives.  And the work of our lives always happens in the context of community.  Dealing with the existential anxiety of isolation causes us to move toward these meaningful relationships.  Thus, the astute Christian therapist must be able to philosophically engage broken people in a broken world who are desperate to find satisfying companionship.  They must be able to comprehend what meaningful community is and what it looks like, beyond a surface-level idea of satisfaction.  And this can only happen with an existential understanding of meaning, and why meaning is important in life.

It is no small task, and the path seems to have been grown over in some places.  But perhaps we will not find it to be as unfamiliar as we think.