Christian universalist literature

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FenderPriest

Puritan Board Junior
I've been revisiting Madeleine L'Engle's A Wrinkle in Time, and after doing some reading on her I was surprised to discover that she was a Christian Universalist, much like George MacDonald. It got me wondering how I should think through benefiting from her life and work. I distinctly remember buying and then reading A Wrinkle in Time on a road trip when I was a boy, and it ignited my imagination! There's a sense in which she captures a beauty and joy and "dancing-ness" about the world around us that's left a deep mark upon me. However, I find it very curious that these two authors (L'Engle and MacDonald - I'm sure there are more, I simply know these two) were great story tellers, influenced by Christianity in a profound way, continue to influence Christian thinkers, and yet seemed to severely miss the mark in terms of Christian orthodoxy in their universalist affirmations. Have you thought through this issue? How do you think through benefiting from someone who professed Christ, missed the mark so profoundly in their confession, and yet reflect such a deep mark of the Biblical world in their writing? (And, for that matter, how does one think through the salvation of someone who professes to be a Christian Universalist? Or maybe that's a different question altogether...)
 
Is it really so surprising? I mean, there are completely non-Christian people who have had profoundly positive effects on the world through their literature.

As far as Christian universalism goes, there has always been a strong current of it in Christian theology, except where suppressed by force, particularly among those who write about God's love. Gregory of Nyssa is probably the most respectable Christian universalist, but Origen the most notorious. It's undeniable, though, that Origen is the single most influential figure in the development of Eastern Christianity. In recent times, two of Christianity's most prominent theologians, Karl Barth and Hans Urs von Balthasar, at least hinted toward universalism. The fact that they were so different in many other ways points to a resonance between universalism and late modern intellectual culture. C. S. Lewis too was a 20th-century figure who, although not a professional theologian, profoundly influenced Christian culture, and his writing suggests at least a more inclusive view of salvation than general orthodoxy allows.

You seem to be treating this occurrence - a somewhat unorthodox writer having profound insights into life and even spirituality - as an anomaly. I don't think it is. Spiritually beneficial and refreshing literature does not seem to be contained in the boundaries of any single confession, or even within the bounds of Christian orthodoxy. Yet, it may be fair to point out that the points on which these authors are most profound are where they line up with orthodoxy, even if in other aspects of their life they do not.
 
How far does a Christian Universalist have to dig before we drop the word Christian from their title? I don't know but have found most have other issues that define them as really not being believers in the real Jesus.
 
I would add that if we take the atonement and the renewal of all things seriously we're going to end up wrestling with Universalism at some level. That's not to say that universalism is orthodox, simply that we should extend charity to those whose calvinism turns optimistic.
 
I can't help but wonder if these folks have never come to grasp the reality and extent of the effects of sin. Without sin as a factor, it would be easy, I guess, to create a perspective of the world that is full of joy, beauty, and dancing-ness. It might make for some uplifting reading, but it's fiction.

And Fiction is something that orthodoxy is not.
 
You seem to be treating this occurrence - a somewhat unorthodox writer having profound insights into life and even spirituality - as an anomaly. I don't think it is.
I'm not. I think Phillip captures the direction of my question though:
I would add that if we take the atonement and the renewal of all things seriously we're going to end up wrestling with Universalism at some level. That's not to say that universalism is orthodox, simply that we should extend charity to those whose calvinism turns optimistic.
It's the "calvinism turned optimistic" that strikes me as my surprise. I don't think it's true, nor what Jesus believes, but it's certainly a wrestling that many seem to get stuck in. That's where my questions come in about how to benefit and understand that type of compulsion in literature, especially when many great writers get stuck in that place.

Also, something that might help here that I just stumbled upon, and another that I remembered. Douglas Wilson did a little Q&A about George MacDonald's universalism here that's quiet helpful, especially his comments about the "aura of holiness" that Lewis found in MacDonald. The thing I remembered is a question I asked Wilson that he answered here.
 
Lessons from an Inconsolable Soul Learning from the Mind and Heart of C. S. Lewis - Desiring God

You might enjoy this Piper essay, originally preached at a pastors conference. While about Lewis, it applies to other authors as well. ( I enjoyed MacDonald novels, and Chesterton). This is just a snip from the start:

My approach in this talk is personal. I am going to talk about what has meant the most to me in C. S. Lewis—how he has helped me the most. And as I raise this question, as I have many times over the years, the backdrop of the question becomes increasingly urgent: Why has he been so significant for me, even though he is not Reformed in his doctrine, and could barely be called an evangelical by typical American uses of that word?

He doesn’t believe in the inerrancy of Scripture, 1 and defaults to logical arguments more naturally than to biblical exegesis. He doesn’t treat the Reformation with respect, but thinks it could have been avoided, and calls aspects of if farcical. 2 He steadfastly refused in public or in letters to explain why he was not a Roman Catholic but remained in the Church of England. 3 He makes room for at least some people to be saved through imperfect representations of Christ in other religions. 4 He made a strong logical, but I think unbiblical, case for free will to explain why there is suffering in the world. 5 He speaks of the atonement with reverence, but puts little significance on any of the explanations for how it actually saves sinners. 6

In other words, Lewis is not a writer to which we should turn for growth in a careful biblical understanding of Christian doctrine. There is almost no passage of Scripture on which I would turn to Lewis for exegetical illumination. A few, but not many. He doesn’t deal with many. If we follow him in the kinds of mistakes that he made (the ones listed above), it will hurt the church and dishonor Christ. His value is not in his biblical exegesis. Lewis is not the kind of writer who provides substance for a pastor’s sermons. If a pastor treats Lewis as a resource for doctrinal substance, he will find his messages growing thin, interesting perhaps, but not with much rich biblical content.

The Ironic Effect of Reading Lewis

So you see the kind of backdrop there is for this message. How and why has C. S. Lewis been so helpful to me when I think he is so wrong on some very important matters? Why don’t I put Lewis in the same category as the so-called “emergent” writers? At one level, the mistakes seem similar. But when I pose the question that way, it starts to become pretty clear to me why Lewis keeps being useful, while I think the emergent voices will fade away fairly quickly.
 
It's the "calvinism turned optimistic" that strikes me as my surprise. I don't think it's true, nor what Jesus believes, but it's certainly a wrestling that many seem to get stuck in. That's where my questions come in about how to benefit and understand that type of compulsion in literature, especially when many great writers get stuck in that place.

Well I think it's because they so emphasize the "Yes" of God in the person and work of Jesus Christ. Where we would disagree is in our twin emphasis upon the "No" of God to sin. I think I can appreciate a universalist because I understand what they don't: they describe the right joy but without a reason. For if everyone is saved, then what was there to be saved from? For there to be salvation, there must be damnation.
 
For if everyone is saved, then what was there to be saved from? For there to be salvation, there must be damnation.

I don't think this follows logically. Damnation can be a temporary stage superseded by salvation. That's how it works for all people who experience salvation. People are saved from their own damnation, not anyone else's, so there is no need for anyone to be damned so that other people could be saved. There is no a priori reason why God could not have elected everyone to salvation. Augustine said that damnation is necessary to show God's justice, whereas salvation is necessary to show God's mercy. But our Reformed doctrine of the atonement undercuts that reasoning: the justice of God was fully and satisfactorily demonstrated at the cross.
 
But our Reformed doctrine of the atonement undercuts that reasoning: the justice of God was fully and satisfactorily demonstrated at the cross.

But in the cross we have God's Yes and God's No in the same event. Justice and mercy both---but what of those who deny this? Those who answer "No" to God's "Yes"? As Reformed, we also confess that redemption is particular.

Of course I don't think that for X number of saved there must be Y number of damned, but all the same, there is no salvation without damnation, no mercy without judgment, no love without wrath, no Christ without a cross. There must at least be the peril of damnation such that salvation is necessary. I can't save a person from drowning unless they are in deep water.
 
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