On "Love Wins" (aka Longest. Post. Ever.)

To preface: This is just a slice of one person’s reactions to this book. But it is my blog, so I guess I can say what I want. Still, if you have not read Love Wins, but are planning to do so in the near future, I might encourage you to first go do that, and then come back and read my thoughts on it. It is good to go into things with an open mind. 

In any case, if you read this blog entry, I ask that once you start, you finish it (I mean, maybe not in one sitting… I do recognize that it’s really really long). Otherwise, you might get an incomplete picture of my opinion of this book. I made sure to read the entire book for the same reason. If you really just can’t get through it all without getting distracted or falling asleep or your laptop battery running out, then go down to the “In Conclusion…” section towards the end, which is the summary of how I feel about all this. Thanks!

P.S. You'll notice that in places where I reference or quote parts of the book specifically, I've noted page numbers. This is for anyone who wants more context, and the numbers refer to the hardcover edition of the book.

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So, this week I finished Rob Bell’s oh-so-controversial book, Love Wins. I started annoyed with his writing style, but open to seeing where I fell on the wide spectrum of opinions that I’ve heard or seen expressed—in person, in the media, on facebook—about this book and the statements Bell makes in it. I starting taking notes as I reacted to things—the better to process and recall my thoughts on what I truly find a muddled train of thought (but not just in this book; there’s a reason Jesus Wants to Save the Christians is lingering, unfinished, on my bedside table). The first thing I wrote down, a couple of chapters in, was my conclusion (never swayed, though I did finish the book) that Rob Bell may be better at analogy than theology.

Sometimes the claims he makes are based on somewhat tenuous logic. Towards the start of the third chapter, Bell makes the assertion that reference to “the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob” after their lifetimes is proof that God is still their God after death (p. 65-66). While I happen to agree with his conclusion (that God is still with them, that that relationship continues past this earthly lifetime), I have serious issues with the reasoning which he used to get there—if you drive by and point out “my great-grandma’s house” to a friend, but your great-grandma died when you were a child, you’re not trying to indicate that she still lives there. So it’s hard to identify exactly the issue with Bell’s reasoning—because while the conclusions may be true, being loose with logic in reasoning is a dangerous slippery slope to similarly loose logic leading to less theologically sound conclusions. Perhaps it’s even more concerning that he first applies this sort of logic to a conclusion that most Christians would consider theologically sound—the notion that God is still our God after death—because it sets a stage of trust, or at least of finding it hard to identify exactly what makes you uncomfortable about his line of justification.

Later in that same chapter, though (the one entitled “Hell”), Bell makes statements that resound deeply with me: “I tell these stories because it is absolutely vital that we acknowledge that love, grace, and humanity can be rejected. From the most subtle rolling of the eyes to the most violent degradation of another human, we are terrifyingly free to do as we please. God gives us what we want, and if that’s hell, we can have it. We have that kind of freedom, that kind of choice. We are that free.” (p. 72) He’s making a statement about the kind of hell-on-earth that we are very capable of creating for ourselves, and asserts that that’s the “hell” Jesus and others in the Bible are speaking of much of the time.

The problem is, Bell makes so many assumptions about what people meant in various circumstances—he uses knowledge of Hebrew and Greek language nuances to explain multiple meanings for a term, but rather than provide these options and leave room for questions, for an evolving understanding, for that nuance and uncertainty to remain, he takes Biblical interpretation from one clear-cut, black-and-white end of the spectrum to the other. He dismisses one traditional understanding because it is only one of multiple possible interpretations and thus can’t be known to be true, only to instead declare that the other possible interpretation is the one that is true.

All I could think while reading some such statements is that even Jesus’ closest companions and confidants, the people who were around him more than anyone, were frequently confused when trying to understanding the meaning of his parables and teachings—so who does Rob Bell think he is?? How is he so sure that “that wasn’t what [Jesus] was talking about”? (p. 81)

Back to the aforementioned section where Bell talks about the earthly mess we can make for ourselves by choosing division and violence instead of love and grace—it felt like a stretch, like he decided he wanted to write a book about hell, and maybe even decided that it would get more publicity or sell better if it was a little controversial—when really he could have made the same comment in a book about the ten commandments or the teachings of Jesus. Again, I have no beef with a basic premise on which he bases his claims—that God is really good at allowing us natural consequences (as I remarked to friends just the other day), and gives us guidelines for our own protection and best life—but take issue with the logic he uses to apply this to the statement that hell is not a real place (you can quote me interviews all day long. You can send me a link to a video where Bell claims he’s not a universalist. But those really all sound to me like they are by someone other than the person who wrote the book that I just read). Whatever it is that he’s trying to get across would be a lot more compelling if he wasn’t stretching his reasoning so far.

Which is sad, because there’s so much truth hiding here: “Often the people most concerned about others going to hell when they die seem less concerned with the hells on earth right now, while the people most concerned with the hells on earth right now seem the least concerned about hell after death… There are individual hells, and communal, society-wide hells, and Jesus teaches us to take both seriously. There is hell now, and there is hell later, and Jesus teachers us to take both seriously.” (p. 78-79) Which is a great statement… except that Bell doesn’t. He doesn’t take the hell-later part seriously, and he could have used these statements instead as part of a convicting call to action for all of those Christians who are hung up only on morality and salvation, and not focused on being the healing hands of Jesus to the hurting people of this world.

Some things I jotted down without comment, because they are merely thought-provoking, like when Bell points out that when Jesus talked about hell, it was to the religious, the people in the “in” crowd (p. 82)—it was a warning for believers about how they were living their lives, not a conversion scare tactic. And that’s certainly not how hell is painted in the church today.

At other times, I get the outcry of those who call Bell heretical. He seems to write off the devil with dangerous levity, with statements like “whoever and whatever [Paul] means by that word ‘Satan’…” Seriously, Rob Bell? How do you know Paul wasn’t referring to, you know… Satan?

Bell has claimed in interviews—some of which I’d read, or skimmed anyway, prior to reading the book—that he isn’t a universalist. Or rather, he offers one definition of what might be meant by a “universalist,” and says that he isn’t that. But in Love Wins, he asserts that after death, people get infinite time and chances to turn toward God—and furthermore, that they inevitably will do so, because God is just that irresistible (p. 106-107). He claims that love is incompatible with force, which is why he’s not a “universalist” (no one will be forced to be saved), but camping out at someone’s doorstep for all eternity until they just have to give in and love you back, sounds like pretty much the same thing to me. Which is fine, you know… that’s up to him, and me, and you, to decide how we feel about that notion. But at least have the guts to call it what it is, controversy be damned. Bell also claims—and who could argue with his sentiment?—that it’s difficult to imagine a “scenario in which somebody is pounding on the door, apologizing, repenting, and asking God to be let in, only to hear God say through the keyhole:  ‘Door’s locked. Sorry, If you had been here earlier, I could have done something. But now, its too late.’” (p. 108) But it does bring to mind the parable of the ten virgins. Food for thought.

Bell’s apparent willingness to define truth based on what is the most appealing, rather than what is the most true, is rather disturbingly captured in his statement that “it’s important that we be honest about the fact that some stories are better than others,” after which he goes on to state that a story that involves eternal hell “isn’t a very good story.” (p. 111) Now again, my big issue here is not even with Bell’s conclusions—because unlike him, I am okay with leaving room for further understanding and confusion and nuance, so I don’t feel I really need to set a firm stance on how I feel (but more about that later)—but with his expressed motivations and methods for arriving at them.

At times, Bell’s logical maneuvers are so bizarrely far-fetched that all one can do is scratch one’s head and declare aloud, “are you kidding me??” Case in point: his claim that John’s numbering of signs performed by Jesus, and that after the first seven there’s “one more sign” in John’s gospel, the resurrection (even though John doesn’t number that one or call it a sign—go ahead, look it up—and even though he does actually mention that Jesus performs “many other signs” post-resurrection (Matthew 20:30), which would definitely bump the number well past 8 signs) …which Bell asserts is a reference back to the 7 days of creation, but the fact that there are 8 signs means that a new week is starting (because, you know, there’s only 7 days in a week), and the start of a new creation. (p. 132-133)

[scratches head] Are you kidding me??

To reiterate: conclusion is fine; methodology/train of thought in getting there is at times distressingly bizarre.

To continue my synopsis (or rather, my random string of occasional thoughts/reactions):

Page 152: love.

(A discussion on how nearness can at times produce distance—Christians can become so anesthetized to Jesus that they are unable to see him as the “stunning, dangerous, compelling, subversive, dynamic reality that he is,” while people newly introduced to the gospel can find themselves relieved and joyful at having a name for the reality they already sensed.)

Page 154: not so love.

(Explains that, yeah, sure, Jesus said he was the way and the truth and the life and that no one comes to the Father except through him… but you know, he didn’t actually say how that happens. Like, the people might not even want to go through him, but that’s still how they’re getting saved. So much for Bell’s rejection of a saved-whether-you-want-to-be-or-not definition of universalism.)

Page 160: Yes.

(Bell reminds us that “it is our responsibility to be extremely careful about making negative, decisive, lasting judgments about people’s eternal destinies.” Remember this point, because I’m going to talk about it more, below, where I give my own response to all this.)

My biggest issue with the point of view Bell puts forth in Love Wins is that it appears to be a rewriting of God to fit our conceptions of who he’s “supposed” to be, or who we’d like him to be.

            p. 175: “Just what kind of God is behind all this?”              “Because if something is wrong with your God…”

Now, sometimes who we want God to be is indeed who he is, because that longing is based on something real about how we were created and hard-wired, and we are sensing that somewhere along the line, our traditions of understanding about God have gone slightly off track from who he Is. But so many other times we come to God and the scriptures with our own preconceived notion—based on what’s convenient for us, or what’s popular, or what the unique societal messages of our time would happen to agree with—that we want God and his word to fit neatly into. I don’t know for sure which category Bell’s attempt falls into—if he hits the nail on the head, or is grasping at straws—but in either case, it’s the attempt in itself that is concerning to me.

Bell even appears to throw in a pre-emptive defense against those who will object to his book: “For some, the highest form of allegiance to their God is to attack, defame, and slander others who don’t articulate matters of faith as they do.” (p. 183) It’s ok, Rob Bell. When you speak truth, people react, sometimes strongly. When you speak non-truth, people react, sometimes strongly. But you shouldn’t go into something like this thinking people won’t react, let alone discouraging them from doing so. Each of us needs to figure this out, not just listen to what someone tells us about how it is. This is not a 6-degrees-of-separation thing with God. God wants each of us to connect in direct relationship with him, and to dig deep to get what he’s trying to tell us. Now, that doesn’t mean we should attack, defame, or slander, and yes, I’ve seen some of that in reaction to this book—but thoughtful, healthy contemplation and discussion, whether in agreement or otherwise—and yes, I have seen a bit of that too—is not only to be expected, but is important. People need to get thinking, not just be spoon-fed.

IN CONCLUSION…

I think Rob Bell is better at analogy than theology. I think he is at times exceptionally good at connecting scripture to life, and at compelling to action and change. But I think he set out on a dangerous journey when he set about trying to justify the points he makes in this book—I don’t just mean in terms of this book itself, but in terms of the kind of liberties he appears willing to take with interpreting scripture, and the stage that sets for the next book, or the next.

Perhaps even more relevantly than whether or not I find his journey dangerous, I just plain find it unnecessary. Here’s the crux of the matter: “The point then, as it was now, is Jesus. The divine in flesh and blood. He’s where the life is.” (p. 129) Exactly. So why say any more, Rob Bell?

When people—and I get this from non-Christians, but from believers as well—ask me what I think about whether such-and-such group of people will get into heaven or if so-and-so is currently burning in hell—I simply tell them that I don’t spend too much time thinking about that, because it isn’t up to me. It simply is not up to me to determine what happens to that former political leader who said he was a Christian but did a lot of bad stuff, or this great Muslim humanitarian, or that remote village of people who don’t have Bibles, after they die. And I don’t even have any way of knowing, because I don’t know what goes on between any particular person and God.

And even if I did know, would it change anything?

I don’t love God because he helped me dodge the bullet of going to hell when I die. Even typing that, that looks ridiculous in every sense of the word. I love God because he loves me as much as he has ever loved anyone, and has given me an amazing world to live in, and has made incredible sacrifices for me, and has made a plan for me, and is the one constant who has never let me down and never will.

And so if I had the opportunity to talk to that dictator, or that humanitarian, or those remote villagers, about God, it wouldn’t be just because I wanted to add a few more souls to the “saved” list. It would be because “God’s version of our story… is a brutally honest, exuberantly liberating story, and it is good news.” (p. 171-172) It would be because I wanted them to truly get the love story that is the Bible, and understand why God sets certain boundaries in place for us, and to experience what “life to the fullest” looks like. And it doesn’t matter if someone calls themselves a Christian or considers themselves “saved” or not, I still want those same things for them (and for me, too).

Rob Bell really does seem to get it at points: “When the gospel is diminished to a question of whether or not a person will ‘get into heaven,’ that reduces the good news to a ticket, a way to get past the bouncer and into the club. The good news is better than that.” (p. 178-179) So let’s stop spending all our time thinking about something that we don’t have any control over. I don’t need to define who gets in, who doesn’t, or what that “in” even refers to in the first place. I know I’m set. I’m not concerned about what happens to me after this life. I might not know all the details, but I also know I’m not going to get to know all the details till I get to that point, so I’m not really fussing about it. I know that God is good, and God will still have me after I breathe my last breath, and that’s all I really need to know. I’m not chasing after God’s heart to be saved, but because of all he has done for me, in this life and after, and because of how much better he knows what’s best for me while I fumble my way through this life.

So yes, love wins. Then again, I didn’t need this book to tell me that.