John Sanders and Divine Providence
All who journey to open and relational theology ponder providence. Theologian John Sanders offers one of the most thorough and best-known theologies of providence written from an open and relational perspective. His book, The God Who Risks, has as its subtitle, A Theology of Divine Providence.
I am currently writing a book on providence, randomness, and evil. In it, I proffer my own version of open and relational theology – what I call “essential kenosis.” My version is similar to Sanders’s, but it also differs in important ways.
The following essay is my summary of Sanders’s overall theology of providence. These are issues on which we agree. In subsequent blog essays, I highlight areas of disagreement to contrast Sanders’s views with my alternative open and relational theology proposal.
A Risk Model of Providence
Sanders understands providence as “the way God has chosen to relate to us and provide for our well-being.” He offers a “risk model of providence,” which says God voluntarily decided to create a world with free creatures. When creating in this way, God made a covenant to be open to creatures. This covenant “is not a detailed script but a broad intention that allows for a variety of options regarding precisely how it may be reached.”
As an open and relational theologian, Sanders rejects the idea that God constantly controls others. “God grants humans genuine freedom to participate in this project, and he does not force them to comply.” Creating genuinely free creatures meant God losing the ability to control all creatures all the time.
God acts providentially, but the divine plan has “a broad intention with flexible strategies that allow for a variety of options.” God works with his creatures, seeking to obtain various goals. In this providential activity, “God genuinely enters into dynamic give-and-take relationships with humans, loving them, providing for them, and soliciting their collaboration in the fulfillment of God’s purposes for creation.”
God’s providence involves risk, which means God “does not get everything he desires,” says Sanders. But this is the nature of love, because “love takes risks and is willing to wait and try again if need be.” Love may result in deep interpersonal relationship. But it may also be scorned, as creatures reject God’s invitation. This does not make God helpless, because “there is much the lover can do,” says Sanders. “But success is not guaranteed.”
The risk model of providence will not appeal to everyone, Sanders admits. Some believers prefer guarantees. But the alternative to a risk-taking God is some form of theological determinism. Outcomes are guaranteed only if God controls others entirely and fails to take risks. Robots can be trusted to comply, but free creatures may hinder divine plans.
Sanders affirms open and relational beliefs about God’s knowledge and relation to time. “God is everlasting through time,” he says, “rather than timelessly eternal.” God knows all that can be known given the sort of world God chose to create. But the future is not entirely knowable, because it is contingent upon creaturely choices. This is what Sanders calls “dynamic omniscience.” In this view, “God knows the past and present with exhaustive definite knowledge and knows the future as partly definite (closed) and partly indefinite (open).”
The Language of Love
Love motivates Gods’ providential activity. “Love is the preeminent characteristic of God,” says Sanders. And “the commitment to love his creatures and bring them into a reciprocal relationship of love is fundamental to God.” God does not give up on covenantal commitments but responds with a strategy for redeeming each situation. Sanders believes that “God loves his creatures and desires to bless them with all that is in their best interest.” The relationship God offers “is not one of control and domination but rather one of powerful love and vulnerability.”
Some criticize open and relational theologians for using creaturely analogies when talking about the Creator. The technical word for this practice is “anthropomorphism,” which means “human-like.” Open theists use images, analogies, and language to describe God, who is not a creature.
Sanders answers this criticism by saying biblical writers use anthropomorphic language. Consequently, biblically-oriented open and relational theologians feel warranted for following this biblically-derived practice. Furthermore, scripture reveals that God like us in some respects but not in others. Our language describes at least something about who God truly is. This is especially true if, as the Bible says, we are created in God’s image.
The clearest revelation of God comes in Jesus Christ, himself human. Sanders makes a strong Christological case for open and relational theology. “If Jesus is the ultimate revelation of who God is and what humans are supposed to be in relationship to God,” he says, “then we should pay particular attention to the way divine providence works in the life of Jesus.” If we look to Jesus, says Sanders, “we see the genuine character of God, who is neither an omnipotent tyrant nor an impotent wimp.”
Jesus reveals that God intimately relates to us by giving and receiving love. “God is intimate and near, not remote or disengaged,” says Sanders. Because creatures affect God, the evangelical emphasis on “a personal relationship with God” is correct. God’s way is to respond to creatures and be receptive to what they say and do.
According to the witness of Jesus, God opposes evil. “If Jesus is the paradigm of providence,” says Sanders, “then God is fundamentally opposed to sin, evil, and suffering.” Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection reveal that “God is not the all-determining power responsible for sending everything, including suffering, on us.” Rather, “the way of God is love.” “The almighty God wins our hearts through the weakness of the cross and the power of the resurrection,” says Sanders. “Love does not force its own way on the beloved.”
Conclusion
Up to this point in my summary of Sanders’s version of open and relational theology, I completely agree with him. I might articulate some points slightly differently. But we both endorse main themes of open and relational theology. We agree on so much!
I firmly believe many Christians are confused about issues of providence. And Sanders’s version of open and relational theologies can go a long way toward alleviating that confusion. I recommend The God Who Risks!
As I said at the outset, however, I disagree with Sanders on some issues. My primary disagreement pertains to his view of how God’s love, power, and failure to prevent genuine evil are related. I will address this in subsequent blogs.
John Sanders, The God Who Risks: A Theology of Providence, rev. ed. (Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity, 2007 [1998]).
Comments
The God Who Risks made me cry when I read it. It was my first encounter with a thoroughly worked out open theology. In my view, it made God so much more awe inspiring then one who ran a puppet theater.
I remember well reading through Sander’s book. I was so angry as I read through the book while in the Missional Leadership MA at NNU. It stretched me in ways I did not think possible. My stretching was quite painful and through it all Tom, you helped me walk through. I am grateful for the time spent reading Sanders, but I most appreciated how Love is articulated in an open and relational theology. I look forward to see how you will deal with the issue of evil and God.