Historical Views of Salvation: From Penal Substitution to Christus Victor

Jackson: Hey Lena, I was thinking about that classic church sign you see everywhere—the one that says "God sent his Son to die for us." It’s such a standard phrase, but when you actually stop to look at the Greek word often translated as "atoning sacrifice"—hilasmos—it opens up this massive rabbit hole.

Lena: It really does! And it’s funny you mention that, because for many people, the "standard" view is this legal one: that God had to pay a debt to himself or satisfy his own wrath. It feels a bit paradoxical, right? Why would God need to pay himself?

Jackson: Exactly! It’s that "payment to himself" logic that feels so strange. Was it always seen as a legal transaction, or did the early church have a totally different perspective?

Lena: That’s the hook. Before the legal models took over, there were views about cosmic victory and even the idea that Jesus was preparing the human soul for eternal life rather than just paying a fine. So, let’s explore how we moved from a ransom paid to the devil to the legal theories we hear today.

Jackson: You know, Lena, that "payment to himself" paradox we just mentioned—it actually explains why the very first major theory of atonement wasn't legal at all. It was more like an action movie. They called it Christus Victor, or the Ransom Theory. And get this—in the early days, they didn't think the debt was owed to God. They thought it was owed to Satan.

Lena: Right! It’s a completely different starting point. If you look at the landscape of the first few centuries of the church, the dominant metaphor wasn't a courtroom—it was a battlefield or a prison break. The logic was that humanity had effectively sold itself into slavery to sin and death, and therefore, Satan held the "legal" deed to human souls.

Jackson: So, if Satan holds the deed, God has to buy us back? That’s where the word "ransom" comes in, right? Like in Mark 10:45, where it says the Son of Man came to give his life as a ransom for many. But here is the part that always trips me up—if God is all-powerful, why is he negotiating with the devil? Why not just kick the door down?

Lena: That’s exactly what theologians like Origen and Gregory of Nyssa had to wrestle with. They believed God was so just that he wouldn't even steal back what the devil had "rightfully" earned through human sin. So, a deal had to be struck. But—and this is the "action movie" twist—it was a bit of a sting operation. They used a "fishhook" analogy.

Jackson: A fishhook? Wait, explain that. Who is the bait and who is the hook?

Lena: Okay, so imagine Jesus’s humanity is the bait—the tasty morsel that Satan wants to swallow. Satan sees this perfect, righteous human and thinks, "If I can kill him, I’ve won the ultimate prize." But hidden inside that humanity is the "hook" of Jesus’s divinity. Satan gulps down the bait, but because Jesus is actually God—the source of life itself—the "stomach" of hell can't hold him. By trying to claim someone he had no right to—since Jesus had no sin—Satan loses his legal claim over everyone else.

Jackson: That is wild. It’s almost like a divine loophole. I love that quote from John Chrysostom in the fifth century—he said that Hell "took a body, and discovered God. It took earth, and encountered Heaven." It’s this idea of Satan being blindsided by something he couldn't see. But I can see why later thinkers started to get uncomfortable with this. It makes God look like a trickster and Satan look like a legitimate business partner.

Lena: Exactly. By the time we get to the Middle Ages, people started asking: "Does the devil really have rights that God is bound to respect?" It felt beneath God’s dignity to be "paying off" a rebel. And that’s the pivot point. If the debt isn't owed to the devil, but something still feels "broken" in the universe, who is the debt owed to?

Jackson: That brings us right to the transition toward the legal view. If we move away from the "cosmic ransom" paid to an enemy, we start looking inward—at God’s own nature, his honor, and his justice. It’s a shift from "God vs. Satan" to "God’s Justice vs. Human Sin."

Lena: And that shift changes everything about how we perceive our own value and our own guilt. It takes the focus off being "captives" who need a liberator and starts turning us into "debtors" who need a benefactor. But as we’ll see, that "benefactor" model eventually gets very, very intense when it hits the Reformation.

Jackson: It really does. But before we get to the "wrath" part, we have to look at the "honor" part. It’s like the intermediate step between the Ransom Theory and the Penal model we know today. It’s the world of knights, lords, and infinite offenses.

Lena: To understand why the legal view started to win out, we have to step into the shoes of Anselm of Canterbury. We’re talking late eleventh century—around 1098 when he wrote Cur Deus Homo, which literally means "Why God Became Man." He basically looked at the Ransom Theory and said, "This is nonsense. The devil is a robber, not a landlord."

Jackson: Right, he wanted a more "rational" explanation. But his version of "rational" was heavily influenced by the feudal system he lived in. Think about it—in a world of lords and serfs, "honor" was the glue that held society together. If a serf offended a lord, it wasn't just a personal spat; it was a violation of the entire social order.

Lena: Precisely. Anselm argued that sin is essentially "withholding from God what is his due." By sinning, humans have insulted God’s infinite honor. And here is the kicker: because God is infinite, an insult against him has infinite weight. A finite human can't pay back an infinite debt. It’s like trying to pay off a billion-dollar loan with a nickel.

Jackson: So, we’re stuck. We owe a debt we can't pay, but justice demands it be paid. This is where the "God-Man" logic comes in, right? Anselm says only a human ought to pay it—because humans caused the mess—but only God can pay it—because only he has the "infinite capital," so to speak.

Lena: Exactly! That is the "Satisfaction Theory." Christ’s death isn't a punishment in Anselm’s eyes—and this is a really important distinction for our listener who find the "wrath" part strange—it’s a voluntary "gift" or "reparation" that has so much value it balances the scales. It’s about restoring God’s honor, not necessarily venting God’s anger. It’s a subtle but massive difference.

Jackson: It’s interesting you say that because it feels much more like a civil lawsuit than a criminal trial. It’s about "making it right." But you can see how the "legal" DNA is already there. Once you start talking about "debts" and "satisfaction," you’re only one step away from talking about "laws" and "penalties."

Lena: And that’s where the Protestant Reformers like Luther and Calvin come in a few hundred years later. They took Anselm’s "honor" framework and translated it into the language of the courtroom. Instead of a medieval lord whose honor is slighted, they saw a Supreme Judge whose Law is broken. In their view, justice doesn't just need a "gift"—it needs a "punishment."

Jackson: That’s the "Penal Substitution" view that has become so dominant in modern evangelicalism. The idea that the law says "the soul that sins shall die," and since God is a perfect judge, he can't just let it slide. So Jesus steps in and "takes the rap." He becomes the lightning rod for the punishment we deserved.

Lena: And this brings us back to that "strange" feeling our listener mentioned—the idea of God paying himself. In the Penal model, it’s often framed as the Father punishing the Son. Critics like Steve Chalke have even called this "cosmic child abuse," which is a really polarizing phrase, but it highlights the tension. How can a loving Father demand the torture of his innocent Son to satisfy his own requirement for justice?

Jackson: It’s a tough one. Proponents of this view, like J.I. Packer, argue that we have to see it through the lens of the Trinity—that God isn't punishing a "third party," but that God himself is bearing the cost. But for many people, that still doesn't quite resolve the "strangeness." It feels like God is a slave to a law that is even higher than he is.

Lena: Right! Is there a "Law of the Universe" that says blood must be shed, and even God has to follow it? Or did God invent that law? If he invented it, why can't he just change the rules? These are the questions that led other thinkers to look for a "third way"—one that wasn't about ransoms to the devil or legal payments to God, but about something happening inside us.

Jackson: And that leads us to the "Moral Influence" view, which is almost the polar opposite of the legal model. It’s less about what happens in the "divine courtroom" and more about what happens in the human heart.

Lena: While Anselm was busy with his "honor" theory in the twelfth century, there was another guy, Peter Abelard, who thought the whole legal framework was missing the point. He looked at the cross and didn't see a debt being paid; he saw a love story being told.

Jackson: Abelard is such a fascinating figure. He basically said, "Look, God didn't need to be 'bought off' or 'satisfied.' He’s God! He’s already loving." Abelard’s "Moral Influence" theory suggests that the whole purpose of Jesus’s life and death was to show us just how much God loves us, in order to melt our cold hearts and move us to repentance.

Lena: It’s a very "subjective" view. In the legal model, the change happens in God’s "books"—he switches our status from "guilty" to "innocent." In Abelard’s model, the change happens in us. We see Christ’s sacrifice, we’re overwhelmed by that kind of self-giving love, and that "influence" is what actually saves us because it turns us back toward God.

Jackson: It’s like the ultimate "lead by example" strategy. I mean, we see this in the New Testament too—passages that talk about Christ leaving us an "example" so that we can follow in his steps. But the critique of this view has always been: "Is that enough?" If I’m drowning in the ocean, and someone stands on the shore and shows me a beautiful demonstration of how to swim, that doesn't necessarily get me out of the water.

Lena: That is exactly the classic pushback. Critics of the Moral Influence theory say it turns Jesus into just a "good teacher" or a "tragic hero" rather than a Savior. If there isn't an actual "transaction" or a "victory" over death, then the cross is just a really sad, really powerful piece of performance art.

Jackson: But it’s interesting because this view really took off in the modern era, especially with liberal theology. It appeals to people who find the idea of "blood sacrifice" or "divine wrath" primitive or even immoral. It’s a "cleaner" version of Christianity that focuses on ethics and social justice.

Lena: And that’s where the Unitarians come in. Our listener asked specifically about them. For a long time, Unitarians have leaned heavily into this "Exemplar" or "Moral Influence" model. Since they don't believe Jesus is the second person of a Trinity—but rather a uniquely inspired human or a subordinate divine being—they don't see his death as an "infinite payment" for sin.

Jackson: Right, because if he’s not God, he can't pay an infinite debt. So for them, Jesus is the "pioneer" or the "scout" who shows us what a life perfectly aligned with God looks like. His death is the ultimate proof of his integrity and his commitment to the "Kingdom of God"—a kingdom based on love and egalitarianism, not power.

Lena: I was reading about William Ellery Channing, the "apostle" of American Unitarianism. He preached that the goal of "atonement" is "at-one-ment"—reconciling human character to God’s character. It’s not about changing God’s mind about us; it’s about changing our minds about God. They believe God is already a loving Father who doesn't need to be "appeased" by violence.

Jackson: So in that view, the "payment" isn't to God’s wrath. If there’s any "price," it’s just the cost of living a radical life in a violent world. Jesus dies because he refuses to stop loving and preaching the truth, and that sacrifice is what "saves" us by inspiring us to do the same.

Lena: It’s a very "human-centric" model. But it’s not the only alternative to the legal view. There’s another one that is much more "mystical"—the idea that Jesus wasn't just an example, but a "Physician" who was actually repairing the human soul from the inside out.

Jackson: That’s the one our listener mentioned—the idea of "cleansing" or "preparing the soul." It’s less about a courtroom and more about a hospital. Let’s dive into that "healing" model, because it’s one of the oldest views in the book.

Lena: If the legal view is a courtroom and the Moral Influence view is a classroom, this third view—often called the "Physical" or "Therapeutic" model—is a hospital. This was huge for the early Greek Fathers like Athanasius. They didn't see sin as just a "crime" or an "insult"—they saw it as a disease. Specifically, the disease of mortality and corruption.

Jackson: That’s a really helpful shift in perspective. If sin is a disease that’s literally rotting human nature, then you don't need a judge to "forgive" the disease; you need a doctor to "cure" it. Athanasius argued that when God became human in Jesus, he "infused" human nature with his own life and immortality.

Lena: It’s the idea of "Recapitulation"—which sounds like a technical term, but it’s actually beautiful. Irenaeus of Lyons used it back in the second century. He said Jesus "re-lived" the human story, but he did it right this time. Where Adam failed, Jesus succeeded. By going through every stage of human life—including death—he "sanctified" the whole experience and "cleansed" it.

Jackson: So, when our listener asks if there are views where Christ "cleansed" or "prepared the human soul," this is exactly what they’re hitting on. In this model, Jesus goes into the "darkest rooms" of human existence—suffering, abandonment, and death—and by his presence there, he lightens them up. He’s not "taking a punishment" so much as he is "absorbing the poison" and neutralizing it.

Lena: Exactly! Think of it like a master artist restoring a damaged painting. The painting isn't "guilty"—it’s just broken. The artist has to painstakingly clean away the grime and fill in the cracks. For Athanasius, the "grime" was death itself. Because God is Life, when he enters into death, death basically "shorts out." It can't handle him.

Jackson: This is why the Resurrection is so much more central in this view than in the legal model. In the legal model, the "work" is mostly done on the cross—the debt is paid. But in the Healing model, the Resurrection is the "recovery." It’s the proof that human nature has been successfully "re-booted" into eternal life.

Lena: And this model also avoids that "internal Trinitarian violence" problem where the Father is pitted against the Son. Here, the Father, Son, and Spirit are all "Team Physician." The Father sends the Son out of love to "rescue" the children from a sickness they can't cure themselves. There’s no "wrath" that needs to be "vented" on an innocent victim.

Jackson: It’s interesting how this overlaps with some modern views too. I’ve heard people describe it as "solidarity." Jesus stands in solidarity with the marginalized, the suffering, and the dying, and by "joining" us in our mess, he makes it possible for us to "join" him in his life.

Lena: It’s a very "ontological" salvation—meaning it’s about a change in our very being, not just our legal status. But that still leaves the question: if these "healing" and "victory" models were so popular in the early church, how did the legal view end up winning the "theological arms race" in the West?

Jackson: That’s the million-dollar question. It wasn't just a random accident. There were specific historical and cultural "pressures" that made the legal model feel more "correct" to people in Europe for a thousand years.

Lena: It’s a bit like how a certain genre of music becomes the "standard" for a while. Let’s look at why "Penal Substitution" became the litmus test for orthodoxy in so many churches, and what was lost in that process.

Jackson: So, Lena, we’ve looked at the Ransom Theory, the Honor Theory, and the Healing model. But let's get into the "why"—why did the legal, penal model become the "heavyweight champion" of atonement theories, especially in the Protestant world?

Lena: It’s a fascinating bit of historical sociology. Think about the timing. The Reformation happened right as the modern "nation-state" was beginning to emerge in Europe. Systems of law and order were becoming the primary way people understood how the world worked. If you wanted to explain the universe, you used the language of the law.

Jackson: Right, and John Calvin himself was a trained lawyer! You can see that DNA all over his Institutes. He took the medieval "Honor" model and tightened it up with the precision of a criminal prosecutor. For him, the universe was a giant courtroom, and God was the "Perfect Judge."

Lena: And in a courtroom, you can't just have "reparation" or "healing"—you need a "verdict." The Reformers were also reacting against the Catholic system of "penance" and "works." They wanted a version of salvation that was "final" and "certain." If Jesus "paid the full penalty" for your sins, then there’s nothing left for you to do. It’s a "finished transaction."

Jackson: That "certainty" is incredibly appealing. It’s the "Get Out of Jail Free" card that actually holds up in court. If the price has been paid, you can't be tried for the same crime twice—what theologians call "double jeopardy." This gave people a huge sense of psychological relief during a very turbulent time in history.

Lena: But here’s the trade-off—and this is what critics like J. Denny Weaver point out. When you focus entirely on the "legal transaction" of the death, you tend to ignore the life of Jesus. The teachings, the healings, the social radicalism—all of that just becomes a "prelude" to the main event: the execution. It reduces Jesus to a "sacrifice" rather than a "leader."

Jackson: Exactly. It’s like watching a three-hour movie and only caring about the last five minutes. And this is where that "strange" feeling comes back. If the goal is just "paying a debt," why did God bother with the Sermon on the Mount? Why did he care about the poor? In the legal model, those things are almost "extra credit."

Lena: And it also creates a very specific image of God the Father—as someone who is "bound" by his own justice to punish someone. It makes God look like he has a "wrath problem" that he can't control unless he sees blood. That’s the "Vengeful Autocrat" image that many people today—like our listener—find so alienating.

Jackson: It’s interesting that many Protestant churches today treat this specific theory—Penal Substitution—as a "litmus test" for being a real Christian. If you don't believe in the "payment of wrath," they say you’re "denying the cross." But as we’ve seen, for the first thousand years of Christianity, most people didn't see it that way!

Lena: Right! They were perfectly happy with Christus Victor or the "Healing" model. The "legal view" won because it fit the political and legal climate of Europe, not necessarily because it’s the only way the Bible describes it. In fact, the Bible uses all of these metaphors—ransom, sacrifice, healing, example—side-by-side.

Jackson: It’s like a kaleidoscope. Depending on which way you turn it, you see a different facet of the same event. But if you glue the kaleidoscope in one position, you lose the full picture. So, let’s look at what happens when we "un-glue" the legal view and let those other perspectives back in—especially the ones that focus on "victory" and "cleansing."

Lena: This brings us to a really cool contemporary movement called "Narrative Christus Victor." It’s basically a modern "remix" of the oldest view, and it answers a lot of the questions about "violence" and "payment."

Jackson: You mentioned "Narrative Christus Victor," and I love that term. It’s this idea developed by people like J. Denny Weaver. It takes that old "Satan was defeated" idea but strips away the "paying a ransom to the devil" part. Instead, it frames the cross as God "unmasking" how violent human systems actually are.

Lena: It’s a brilliant shift. Instead of God "demanding" a violent sacrifice, this view says that we—the religious and political systems of the world—were the ones who demanded the violence. God sends Jesus as a gift of love and peace, and the "Powers and Principalities" of the world can't handle it. They react with the only tool they have: death.

Jackson: So the "sacrifice" isn't something God wants; it’s something God endures. And by going through it and then rising from the dead, he shows that the "power of death"—the ultimate weapon of every tyrant and every "evil force"—is actually empty. It’s like he "broke" the weapon of the enemy by letting it hit him and then just standing back up.

Lena: I love that. It’s a "non-violent" atonement. It suggests that Jesus wasn't "paying God off"—he was "liberating" us from our addiction to violence and fear. If you’re no longer afraid of death, then the "Powers that Be" have no leverage over you. That’s the "victory."

Jackson: This connects so well to what our listener asked about "preparing the soul for eternal life." In this view, the "cleansing" is actually the removal of fear. By going ahead of us through the "door" of death and coming back, Jesus "clears the path." He shows us that death isn't a wall; it’s just a hallway.

Lena: And this is where the "mercy" comes in. We talked about that Greek word hilasmos earlier. While it’s often translated as "propitiation" (appeasing wrath), it’s also closely related to the "mercy seat"—the lid of the Ark of the Covenant where God "met" humanity. If Jesus is the "mercy seat," he’s not the "victim" of God’s anger; he’s the "place" where God’s mercy is most visible.

Jackson: It’s a much more "relational" view. It’s about reconciliation, not just "bookkeeping." It reminds me of the "Governmental Theory" too—this idea from Hugo Grotius that the cross was a "demonstration" of how serious sin is, meant to uphold the "moral order" without necessarily needing every single "sin-debt" to be paid in blood.

Lena: Right, Grotius was trying to find a "middle way" between the legal view and the "Moral Influence" view. He said, "Look, God is a good governor. He wants to forgive us, but he also needs us to know that the Law matters." So the cross is a "solemn warning" and a "display of grace" at the same time.

Jackson: It’s like a "public service announcement" for the universe. But even then, some people find it a bit too "staged." They want something more "organic"—something that actually changes the "wiring" of the human heart.

Lena: And that’s where we get into the "Practical Playbook" for our listener. If you’re someone who finds the "legal payment" model strange or even repulsive, how do you actually "use" these other theories in your own life? How do they change the way you wake up in the morning?

Jackson: Because at the end of the day, a theory of "atonement" is really a theory of "how do I get right with the universe?" And that’s something everyone is trying to figure out, whether they’re religious or not.

Lena: So, if we step away from the "courtroom" for a minute, what does it look like to live out these other models? Let's take the "Healing" model. If you see sin as a "wound" and Jesus as the "Physician," then your spiritual life isn't about "paying back a debt"—it’s about "physical therapy."

Jackson: I love that analogy. It changes the goal. Instead of checking off boxes to make sure you’re "innocent," you’re looking for "growth" and "vitality." You’re asking, "Is my soul becoming more 'alive'? Am I becoming more 'immortal' in the sense of being filled with God’s life today?" It’s a "health-focused" faith rather than a "guilt-focused" one.

Lena: And what about the "Christus Victor" model? If the cross was a victory over the "powers of darkness," then your job today is to live like someone who is already "liberated." If death has lost its sting, then you can take risks for love. you can stand up to "bullies" or "unjust systems" because you know they don't have the final word.

Jackson: It’s a "courage-based" faith. And for our listener who was interested in the Unitarian view—the "Exemplar" model—that’s a call to "integrity." It’s about looking at the "way" of Jesus—his radical kindness, his refusal to play the "power game"—and trying to "imitate" that in your own neighborhood. It’s "salvation by character."

Lena: I think that’s a really powerful phrase: "Salvation by character." It means that the "work" of Christ isn't just something he did "for" you; it’s something he does "with" you and "through" you. It’s the "cleansing" of your own motivations and the "preparation" of your own soul for a life that is "eternal" in quality, starting right now.

Jackson: It also changes how we look at "mercy." If God isn't a "wrathful judge" who needs to be "bought off," then we don't have to be "wrathful judges" toward each other. If God’s justice is "restorative"—meaning it’s about "making things right" rather than "punishing the wrong"—then our own sense of justice should be about "healing" too.

Lena: "Restorative Justice." That’s a huge concept in social science right now, but it has these deep theological roots. It’s the idea that when someone "sins" or "breaks a rule," the goal shouldn't be to "make them suffer" in proportion to their crime, but to "restore the relationship" and "repair the harm."

Jackson: Which is exactly what we see in the "Mercy Seat" imagery. It’s a "meeting place," not a "beating place." So, for our listeners, maybe the "takeaway" is that you don't have to force yourself to believe a theory that feels "strange" or "immoral" just because it’s the "dominant" one in your culture.

Lena: Absolutely. You can "shop around" the history of the church! If the "Legal" model doesn't work for you, try on the "Ransom" model (the "Action Movie" version) or the "Healing" model (the "Divine Physician" version). They’re all part of the tradition. They’re all "orthodox" in the broad sense of the word.

Jackson: It’s about finding the metaphor that actually "connects" you to the Divine. Because "Atonement" is just a fancy word for "At-one-ment." It’s about ending the "separation." And there are many different "bridges" that can get you across that gap.

Lena: And once you cross that bridge, you realize that the "price" wasn't about God "demanding" something from us—it was about God "giving" everything to us to show us that we were never really "lost" in the first place.

Jackson: We’ve covered a lot of ground, Lena. From fishhooks and feudal lords to divine doctors and "Christian witches" in the Unitarian tradition. It’s a lot to process!

Lena: It really is. And I think the big "aha" moment for me is realizing that there isn't just "one" view of salvation that "won" because it was the only true one. The "Legal View" won because it had a really good "marketing team" in the legalistic culture of the West, but the other views never really went away.

Jackson: They’re like "underground rivers" that keep popping up. And it’s so important to remember that these are all metaphors. None of them are "the thing itself." The "thing itself" is the mystery of how a finite, messy human can feel "at one" with an infinite, holy Divine.

Lena: "At-one-ment." I think that Tyndale, who coined the word "atonement" in the sixteenth century, really hit the nail on the head. He was trying to find a way to express "reconciliation." And reconciliation is always "relational." It’s not just a "transaction" on a spreadsheet.

Jackson: So, to our listener who was puzzled by the "payment to himself" logic—you’re in good company! Even the great theologians of history found that a bit "strange" and spent centuries trying to find better ways to say it. Whether it’s Christ "cleansing" the soul or "defeating" the fear of death, the goal is always the same: "life more abundant."

Lena: It’s about "preparing the soul for eternal life," like you said. And "eternal life" isn't just a "duration" of time—it’s a "quality" of being. It’s living in a way that is so aligned with love and truth that even death can't "interrupt" it.

Jackson: I love that. "A life that death can't interrupt." That’s the "victory." And that’s the "cleansing." It’s the removal of everything that isn't love.

Lena: So, as we wrap things up, I’d encourage everyone listening to reflect on which of these metaphors feels "truest" to your own experience. Do you feel like a "captive" who needs a "liberator"? A "patient" who needs a "physician"? Or maybe a "prodigal" who just needs to see the "father’s love" to come home?

Jackson: There’s no "wrong" answer. Each of these theories is a "tool" to help us understand a reality that is ultimately beyond words. And sometimes, you need a different tool for a different season of your life.

Lena: Exactly. So, thank you for coming on this "theological deep dive" with us. It’s been a blast exploring these "golden heresies" and historical twists.

Jackson: It really has. We hope this gives you some "food for thought" as you navigate your own journey toward "at-one-ment." Take some time to sit with these questions—maybe look up that word hilasmos for yourself—and see where the rabbit hole leads you.

Lena: Thanks for listening, everyone. It’s been a pleasure.