Appendix G
Andrew Remington Rillera's Lamb of the Free reaches its most ambitious chapter in chapter 7, titled "When Jesus's Death Is Not a Sacrifice." Here, Rillera takes on what he considers the strongest texts in the arsenal of penal substitutionary atonement and attempts to dismantle them one by one. He engages Romans 3:25–26, 2 Corinthians 5:21, Galatians 3:13, Romans 8:3, 1 Peter 2:24, and several passages from Hebrews. His goal is bold: to demonstrate that none of these texts actually teaches what defenders of PSA have long claimed they teach. Rillera argues that these passages have been misread through a theological lens that was imported into them rather than drawn from them.
I want to say at the outset that Rillera's engagement with these texts is linguistically serious. He is not writing a popular polemic; he is interacting with genuine lexical research, and some of his observations deserve careful attention. But as I hope to show in this appendix, his overall project — stripping these texts of any sacrificial, atoning, or substitutionary significance — requires a pattern of special pleading, selective engagement with scholarship, and an artificially narrow reading strategy that the texts themselves resist. When we examine the evidence as a whole, we find that sacrificial, penal, and substitutionary themes are more deeply embedded in the New Testament witness than Rillera allows.
My thesis in this appendix is straightforward: the cumulative weight of the key New Testament atonement texts — spanning Paul, Peter, Hebrews, and John — confirms that the earliest Christians understood Jesus' death in genuinely sacrificial, substitutionary, and penal terms. This does not exclude the participatory and liberative dimensions that Rillera rightly emphasizes. It simply means that substitution and participation are both present in these texts, and removing one to make room for the other distorts the New Testament's own witness. As argued extensively in Chapters 8 and 9 of this book, the exegetical case for penal substitutionary atonement rests not on any single proof-text but on the interlocking testimony of multiple passages, authors, and theological frameworks across the New Testament canon.
Romans 3:25–26 is, by almost universal acknowledgment, the single most important Pauline passage on the atonement. Paul writes:
"whom God put forward as a propitiation [hilastērion, ἱλαστήριον] by his blood, to be received by faith. This was to show God's righteousness, because in his divine forbearance he had passed over former sins. It was to show his righteousness at the present time, so that he might be just and the justifier of the one who has faith in Jesus." (Romans 3:25–26, ESV)
Rillera devotes substantial space to this passage, and his central argument is striking: hilastērion in Romans 3:25 does not mean "propitiation," "expiation," or "mercy seat." Instead, drawing on the lexical work of Daniel P. Bailey, Rillera argues that hilastērion is best understood as a Greco-Roman conciliatory votive gift — a public token of reconciliation, like the altars and monuments that Octavian erected after the civil war to advertise his clemency toward former enemies.1 On this reading, God "set forth" Jesus publicly as a demonstration of his goodwill toward hostile humanity — not as an atoning sacrifice, but as a reconciliation gesture analogous to political diplomacy in the Roman world.
I want to give Rillera credit where it is due. His engagement with Bailey's lexical research and with the Metropolis inscriptions is genuinely interesting. The inscriptions from that city in Asia Minor, situated between the biblical cities of Ephesus and Smyrna, do provide evidence that hilastērion functioned in some Greco-Roman contexts as a conciliatory or reconciliation offering.2 And Rillera is right that Paul was writing to a Roman audience that included Gentile ex-pagans who would have been familiar with such concepts. These are not trivial observations.
However, Rillera's argument suffers from several serious weaknesses that, taken together, undermine his conclusion.
First, Rillera downplays the Jewish and LXX background of hilastērion. The word hilastērion appears twenty-seven times in the Septuagint (the Greek Old Testament that Paul and his readers knew well), and in the overwhelming majority of these occurrences, it refers to the kapporet (כַּפֹּרֶת) — the "mercy seat" or cover of the Ark of the Covenant, the place where atonement was made on the Day of Atonement.3 Rillera acknowledges this usage but then dismisses it, largely following Adolf Deissmann's argument that if Paul had meant the ark lid, he should have been more explicit, and that it is unlikely his ex-pagan audience would have recognized an LXX allusion.4
But this argument underestimates the theological literacy of Paul's audience. Paul's letter to the Romans was addressed to a mixed community that included both Gentile and Jewish believers, as well as God-fearing Gentiles who were deeply familiar with the Scriptures of Israel. Paul's entire argument in Romans 1–3 is saturated with Old Testament language and concepts — the wrath of God (1:18), the law (2:12–29), the faithfulness of God (3:3–4), and the citation of a catena of Old Testament texts in 3:10–18. The idea that Paul would suddenly shift to a purely Greco-Roman frame of reference at the climactic moment of his argument — the revelation of God's righteousness in Christ — stretches credibility. As William Lane Craig observes, the debate over the precise linguistic meaning of hilastērion has unfortunately diverted attention from the conceptual necessity of propitiation in Paul's thinking. Whatever word Paul used, the context demands that Christ's death provide the solution to the problem described in chapters 1–3: God's wrath upon and condemnation of humanity for sin.5
Key Point: Even if one were to grant elements of the "votive gift" interpretation, the broader context of Romans 3:21–26 — with its language of "blood" (haima, αἷμα), "passing over former sins" (paresis, πάρεσις), and God's "righteousness" (dikaiosynē theou, δικαιοσύνη θεοῦ) in a judicial sense — points unmistakably toward an atoning, sacrificial framework. The blood language in a Jewish context carries sacrificial weight that cannot simply be dissolved into "violent death" or "political reconciliation."
Second, Rillera's votive-gift reading cannot account for the blood language. Paul does not merely say that God "set forth" Jesus as a hilastērion. He says God set him forth as a hilastērion "by his blood" (en tō autou haimati). In the sacrificial system, blood is the God-given means of atonement: "For the life of the flesh is in the blood, and I have given it for you on the altar to make atonement for your souls, for it is the blood that makes atonement by the life" (Lev 17:11, ESV). When Paul introduces blood into the hilastērion statement, he activates the entire sacrificial world of the Old Testament. Votive gifts in the Greco-Roman world did not characteristically involve blood. The combination of hilastērion and haima pushes strongly toward a sacrificial reading, not a diplomatic one.6
Third, Rillera's reading cannot adequately account for the paresis language. Paul says the hilastērion was set forth "because in his divine forbearance he had passed over former sins" (3:25b). The word paresis (πάρεσις), which means "passing over" or "leaving unpunished," raises a problem that only a propitiatory or expiatory reading can solve. If God had simply been passing over sins without dealing with them, this would compromise his justice. The hilastērion — the atoning sacrifice of Christ — is what demonstrates God's righteousness by showing that those unpunished sins were not simply ignored but were dealt with in Christ's blood. A conciliatory votive gift does not solve this problem. A gift of reconciliation advertises goodwill; it does not address the judicial problem of unpunished sins. Paul's argument requires a judicial solution, not merely a diplomatic gesture.7
Fourth, the wider Pauline context confirms the propitiatory reading. Just a few verses later, Paul writes: "Since, therefore, we have now been justified by his blood, much more shall we be saved by him from the wrath of God" (Rom 5:9, ESV). Here the connection is explicit: Christ's blood justifies us (expiation — dealing with sin) and saves us from the wrath of God (propitiation — averting divine judgment). As Craig notes, the first clause expresses expiation and the second propitiation, confirming that hilastērion is a multivalent metaphor in Paul's usage, carrying both dimensions.8
Now, the famous debate between C. H. Dodd and Leon Morris on whether hilastērion means "expiation" (dealing with sin) or "propitiation" (averting God's wrath) is relevant here. Dodd argued that the biblical hilaskesthai word group had shed its propitiatory connotations and referred only to the expiation of sin, not the propitiation of God. Morris responded with a thorough examination of the linguistic evidence and demonstrated that Dodd had underestimated the wrath of God in both the Old and New Testaments and had artificially separated expiation from propitiation. As John Stott summarized, the biblical understanding is that God is not merely concerned with removing sin (expiation) but with dealing with the offense that sin creates against his holy character (propitiation). Yet the extraordinary feature of the biblical doctrine is that God himself provides the means of propitiation. He is both the subject and the object of the atoning action. This is not pagan propitiation, where humans seek to appease an arbitrary deity. This is divine self-propitiation, where the God who is rightly offended by sin provides, at his own cost, the remedy for that offense.9
Rillera, by opting for the votive-gift reading, effectively sidesteps this entire debate. But he cannot sidestep the theological problem that Paul is solving. If hilastērion is merely a reconciliation gesture, then Paul has failed to explain how God can be "just and the justifier" of sinners (3:26). The justice of God requires more than a public relations campaign; it requires a genuine dealing with the problem of sin and guilt. That is precisely what the sacrificial, propitiatory reading provides.
Fifth, Rillera's treatment of 4 Maccabees 17:22 actually undermines his case more than it supports it. Rillera cites 4 Maccabees 17:22 as a parallel to Romans 3:25, noting that the Maccabean martyrs are described as a hilastērion. He uses this to argue that the term can function outside a strictly sacrificial framework — the martyrs were not literally sacrificed on an altar. But what Rillera does not adequately address is the broader context of 4 Maccabees. The martyrs' deaths in 4 Maccabees are described in explicitly atoning and substitutionary terms. The text declares that through the blood of those devout ones and their death as an atoning sacrifice, divine Providence preserved Israel that had previously been mistreated (4 Macc 17:21–22). The very passage Rillera cites uses hilastērion in conjunction with blood and death — exactly the combination we find in Romans 3:25. If anything, 4 Maccabees strengthens the case that hilastērion in the Jewish world of Paul's day carried sacrificial and atoning connotations, even when the "sacrifice" in question was not a literal temple ritual.39
Sixth, the "just and the justifier" clause (3:26) demands more than a votive gift. This is perhaps the most theologically decisive point. Paul says that the hilastērion demonstrates God's righteousness "so that he might be just and the justifier of the one who has faith in Jesus." The problem Paul is solving is not merely relational hostility between God and humanity — a problem that a reconciliation gesture could theoretically address. The problem is judicial: How can a righteous God, who has rightly condemned humanity for sin (1:18–3:20), also justify the ungodly (4:5) without compromising his own justice? This is the theodicy of the cross. A votive gift advertises goodwill, but it does not satisfy justice. It does not explain how God can declare sinners righteous while remaining righteous himself. Only a propitiatory sacrifice — one that genuinely deals with the offense of sin against God's holy character — can do that. The hilastērion in Romans 3:25 is the answer to the question of divine justice, not merely the answer to the question of divine friendliness. As Jeffery, Ovey, and Sach observe, the dual assertion that God is both "just" and "the justifier" requires a mechanism by which justice is satisfied even as mercy is extended. Penal substitution, in which Christ bears the judicial consequences of sin on behalf of sinners, provides exactly that mechanism.40
I should be clear about my own position here, which is developed fully in Chapter 8 of this book: hilastērion carries a rich, multidimensional meaning. It likely evokes the mercy seat (the place of atonement), propitiation (the satisfaction of divine justice), and expiation (the removal of sin) — all at once. The beauty of Paul's word choice is that it holds all these dimensions together. What hilastērion does not mean — and what Rillera's reading cannot establish — is a merely diplomatic gesture with no sacrificial, atoning, or judicial content.10
Rillera's treatment of 2 Corinthians 5:21 follows a similar strategy: acknowledge the text, then reinterpret it in a way that eliminates any substitutionary or sacrificial content. The verse reads:
"For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God." (2 Corinthians 5:21, ESV)
Some scholars have argued that hamartia (ἁμαρτία, "sin") here functions as a reference to the ḥaṭṭāʾt — the sin offering or purgation offering of the Levitical system. The Septuagint frequently uses the phrase peri hamartias (περὶ ἁμαρτίας) to translate the Hebrew term for the sin offering. Rillera, drawing on the work of Dominika Kurek-Chomycz, argues that this sin-offering interpretation fails because: (a) the meaning of hamartia would have to change dramatically within the space of a few words; (b) the contrast between "sin offering" and "righteousness of God" is unclear; and (c) hamartia appears here without the preposition peri, which is the standard LXX formula for the purgation offering.11 He further notes that the immediate context is dominated by economic and reconciliation language — "not counting people's sins against them" (5:19) — rather than sacrificial imagery. Therefore, Rillera concludes, there is "insufficient exegetical warrant to support the claim that Paul is talking about sacrifice, let alone atonement here."12
Let me acknowledge that Rillera's observation about the absence of the preposition peri is a legitimate textual point. And I would agree that the sin-offering interpretation, while possible, is not the only way to read hamartia here. But here is where Rillera makes a critical mistake: he treats the sin-offering question as though it were the only issue at stake. If hamartia does not mean "sin offering," Rillera seems to think, then the verse teaches nothing about substitution or atonement. This is a false inference.
Even if we set aside the sin-offering interpretation entirely, 2 Corinthians 5:21 still teaches a substitutionary exchange. The structure of the verse is unmistakably one of interchange: Christ, who "knew no sin," was "made sin" — so that — "in him we might become the righteousness of God." This is a two-directional transfer. Something that was ours (sin) was placed on Christ; something that was his (righteousness) was given to us. Regardless of whether sacrificial language is directly in view, the logic is substitutionary: Christ bears what we should bear, and we receive what only he possesses.13
The Great Exchange: The verse's structure — "he made him to be sin... so that in him we might become the righteousness of God" — presents what John Stott called "the great exchange." Christ takes our sin; we receive God's righteousness. The hina (ἵνα, "so that") clause marks the purpose: the exchange is the means by which our new status is accomplished. This is substitutionary logic at its core, whether or not the sacrificial category is directly invoked.
Rillera's alternative reading — that God "made Jesus to participate in the sinful human condition" — effectively reduces 2 Corinthians 5:21 to an incarnation statement rather than a cross statement. But Paul uses an aorist verb (epoiēsen, ἐποίησεν — "he made"), which points to a specific event, not to the ongoing state of the incarnation. The most natural referent of this aorist is the cross, not the birth of Christ. God made Christ to be sin at a specific moment — at the cross, where sin was dealt with decisively.14
The patristic tradition overwhelmingly reads this verse in substitutionary terms. Fr. Joshua Schooping has demonstrated that St. John Chrysostom's commentary on 2 Corinthians 5:21 is explicitly and unmistakably penal and substitutionary. Chrysostom writes that God "suffered Him that did no wrong to be punished for those who had done wrong," and that Christ died "as one cursed," connecting this text directly with Galatians 3:13. Chrysostom sees no tension between the substitutionary content of the verse and its pastoral or participatory implications. The "great exchange" — the righteous one made sin, sinners made righteous — is, for Chrysostom, precisely the engine of the gospel.15 Rillera does not engage with Chrysostom's reading. This is a significant omission, given that Chrysostom is arguably the most widely respected exegete in the Eastern tradition.
Simon Gathercole's analysis of this passage in Defending Substitution is also instructive. Gathercole acknowledges that Morna Hooker's "interchange" model rightly captures some of what is happening in 2 Corinthians 5:21 — the "in him" language does point to union and participation. But Gathercole demonstrates that interchange and substitution are not mutually exclusive. The interchange has a substitutionary structure: Christ does something "for us" (hyper hēmōn, ὑπὲρ ἡμῶν, 5:21a) that we cannot do for ourselves, and the result is that "in him" we receive a new status (5:21b). The "for us" is the substitutionary ground; the "in him" is the participatory result. Rillera treats these as alternatives; Paul treats them as aspects of the same reality.16
We should also notice the immediate context. In 2 Corinthians 5:14–15, Paul writes: "For the love of Christ controls us, because we have concluded this: that one has died for all, therefore all have died. And he died for all, that those who live might no longer live for themselves but for him who for their sake died and was raised." The phrase "one has died for all, therefore all have died" is a substitutionary statement that generates a participatory consequence. Christ dies for (hyper) all — substitution — and therefore all have died — participation. The two are linked by a "therefore" (ara, ἄρα), not an "or." Rillera's insistence on separating substitution from participation in this very passage runs against the grain of Paul's own logic.
There is one more point worth pressing. Rillera's emphasis on the reconciliation language in the context (5:18–20: "God was reconciling the world to himself... not counting their trespasses against them") is well taken — reconciliation is indeed the overarching theme. But reconciliation and substitution are not incompatible categories. In fact, Paul grounds the reconciliation precisely in the substitutionary exchange. How does God reconcile the world to himself? By not counting their trespasses against them (5:19). And how does he accomplish this non-counting? By making the sinless one to be sin on their behalf (5:21). The substitutionary exchange in verse 21 is the mechanism by which the reconciliation of verses 18–20 is achieved. To strip 5:21 of its substitutionary content is to leave the reconciliation without a foundation — a reconciliation achieved by nothing in particular, a forgiveness with no basis in justice. As Stott recognized, the wonder of 2 Corinthians 5:21 is that it holds together the costliness and the gratuity of grace: God does not simply overlook sin (which would compromise his justice), nor does he simply punish sin and leave us condemned (which would abandon his mercy). Instead, he transfers sin to the sinless one and righteousness to sinners, accomplishing both justice and mercy in a single, breathtaking act.41
Galatians 3:13 is one of the most explicitly substitutionary statements in the New Testament:
"Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us — for it is written, 'Cursed is everyone who is hanged on a tree.'" (Galatians 3:13, ESV)
Rillera's strategy here involves two moves. First, drawing on the work of Daniel Streett, he argues that "becoming a curse" is not about curse-transfer (as in the scapegoat ritual) but is simply language for becoming "an object of derision" or "an accursed spectacle" — the kind of language used in Jeremiah for people who become objects of horror and scorn.17 Second, Rillera argues that Jesus simply shared in the cursed condition that already characterized Israel under the law — he was "born under the law" during a time when the Deuteronomic curses were Israel's lived reality — and that it was his resurrection, not his substitutionary death, that broke the curse and brought blessing.18
I want to concede that Rillera's first point has some lexical basis. Streett is correct that "becoming a curse" or "becoming an object of cursing" can function as a general idiom for suffering disgrace and rejection. And I would agree that crude models of "curse-transfer" — as though a quantifiable substance called "curse" were mechanically transported from one entity to another — are inadequate.
But Rillera's reading runs into a fundamental problem: it cannot account for the specific logic of Paul's argument. Paul's argument is not merely that Jesus experienced cursedness alongside Israel. His argument has a precise substitutionary structure: (1) We were under the curse of the law (3:10, citing Deut 27:26). (2) Christ became a curse for us (hyper hēmōn, ὑπὲρ ἡμῶν) (3:13a). (3) The result is that we are redeemed from the curse (3:13a). The logic is: we were under a curse → Christ took the curse → we are freed from the curse. This is precisely the logic of substitution: one bears what the other would otherwise bear, and the result is the other's release.19
The preposition hyper (ὑπέρ) is critical here. As Simon Gathercole has demonstrated at length, hyper with the genitive in Pauline atonement statements consistently carries the sense of "for the benefit of" and, in many contexts, "in the place of." The "for us" language in Galatians 3:13 is not merely describing solidarity or sympathy. It is describing a benefit that accrues to "us" precisely because Christ stood where we stood and bore what we would otherwise have borne.20
Rillera's Ezekiel Analogy Backfires: Rillera compares Galatians 3:13 to Ezekiel 4:4–6, where the prophet lies on his side and symbolically "bears the punishment" (ʿāwōn, עָוֹן) of Israel and Judah. But this analogy actually undermines Rillera's argument. In Ezekiel 4, the prophet is explicitly said to bear the ʿāwōn — a word that encompasses both "iniquity" and "the punishment for iniquity" — of the people. If Rillera wants to invoke Ezekiel as a parallel to Galatians 3:13, he is invoking a text that describes bearing another's penalty. The parallel points toward substitution, not away from it.
Rillera's emphasis on the resurrection as the means of curse-breaking also contains a logical gap. He writes that "the blessing comes not by forever banishing a once pure victim that has had a curse unloaded onto it, but rather by the one who overrules and annuls the power of the curse through resurrection."21 This is a genuinely important insight about the role of the resurrection — and one that defenders of PSA should take more seriously than they sometimes do. But Rillera presents this as an alternative to substitution, when it is actually a completion of it. The death and the resurrection are a tandem in Paul's thinking: the substitutionary death bears the curse; the resurrection vindicates and liberates. Paul himself makes this distinction in Romans 4:25: "He was delivered over for our trespasses [penalty-bearing → substitutionary] and raised for our justification [vindication → liberating]." The death and resurrection have different, complementary soteriological functions. Substitution applies to the death-as-curse-bearing; vindication applies to the resurrection-as-liberation. Rillera is right that the resurrection matters profoundly. He is wrong to think that the importance of the resurrection eliminates the substitutionary character of the death.22
William Lane Craig makes a powerful philosophical point about this passage: the substitutionary logic of Galatians 3:13 is not a later theological imposition but the natural reading of the text's own argumentative structure. If Christ merely shared in our cursed condition without bearing it in our place, then the connection between his curse-bearing and our liberation from the curse becomes unintelligible. Solidarity with the cursed does not, by itself, remove the curse. What removes the curse is someone qualified to bear it doing so on behalf of those who cannot bear it themselves — and then being vindicated by God as proof that the curse has been exhausted.23
Paul writes in Romans 8:3:
"For God has done what the law, weakened by the flesh, could not do. By sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh and for sin [peri hamartias, περὶ ἁμαρτίας], he condemned sin in the flesh." (Romans 8:3, ESV)
Rillera makes two arguments against reading this text sacrificially or substitutionarily. First, he notes that the phrase peri hamartias — which is the standard LXX rendering of the Hebrew ḥaṭṭāʾt offering — should not be read as a sacrificial reference here because Paul personifies Sin as an active agent throughout Romans 5–8. Sin "reigns" (5:21; 6:12), "rules" (6:14), "enslaves" (7:14; 6:14–22), "deceives" (7:11), and "kills" (7:11). On Rillera's reading, Paul would have to suddenly shift from treating Sin as a personified power to using the same word in a technical sacrificial sense — an unlikely move. Second, Rillera notes that the verb katakrinō (κατακρίνω, "to condemn") is a judicial term, not a sacrificial one. In the Levitical system, the purgation offering does not "condemn" sin; it "makes atonement" (exilaskomai). Therefore, Rillera concludes, the language here is about God defeating and condemning the personified power of Sin through Christ, not about an atoning sacrifice.24
These observations are not without value. Rillera is correct that Paul personifies Sin throughout Romans 5–8, and we should take this literary device seriously. But several points need to be made in response.
First, Paul is fully capable of operating with multiple conceptual frameworks simultaneously. The claim that Paul must choose between "Sin as personified power" and "sin offering" is a false dichotomy that underestimates Paul's theological sophistication. Paul frequently layers metaphors — legal, sacrificial, military, economic — within the same passage. There is no reason he cannot evoke the sacrificial background of peri hamartias while also maintaining his broader narrative of Sin's defeat as a personified power. Indeed, the combination is theologically brilliant: God deals with Sin-the-power precisely by means of a sin-offering sacrifice. The sacrifice is the means; the condemnation of Sin is the result.25
Second, even on Rillera's own reading — God condemned Sin in the flesh through Jesus — the logic is still substitutionary in structure. God sent his own Son "in the likeness of sinful flesh." That is, Jesus entered the domain where Sin reigns. And God condemned Sin there, in the flesh of Christ. Jesus stood where sinners stand — in the domain of Sin-ruled flesh — and God pronounced judgment on Sin in that very location. The condemnation fell where Jesus was, not where we are. This is substitutionary geography: Christ occupies our place under judgment so that we might be freed from condemnation. Romans 8:1 — "There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus" — only makes sense if the condemnation has fallen somewhere else. It fell in Christ's flesh.26
Note: Rillera acknowledges that "the concept of substitution is used here," but he insists the substitution is "between Jesus and the law; not Jesus for other human beings."27 This is an oddly narrow reading. Paul's point is that what the law could not do — liberate people from sin and condemnation — God did through his Son. The beneficiaries are "us" — human beings who are now freed from condemnation (8:1). The substitution has anthropological, not merely nomic, significance. See Chapter 9 of this book for the full exegetical argument.
Rillera's treatment of 1 Peter 2:24 is perhaps the most revealing of his hermeneutical strategy. The verse reads:
"He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, that we might die to sins and live to righteousness. By his wounds you have been healed." (1 Peter 2:24, ESV)
Peter is drawing directly on Isaiah 53, the Suffering Servant passage — one of the most important Old Testament texts for understanding the atonement (see Chapter 6 of this book for the full exegetical treatment). Rillera's argument is that the context of 1 Peter 2 is paradigmatic, not atoning. Peter introduces Jesus in 2:21 as a "pattern" (hypogrammos, ὑπογραμμός) — an example for believers to follow. Therefore, Rillera argues, the language of "bore our sins" in 2:24 should be read as part of this paradigmatic framework: Jesus is the supreme model of the Suffering Servant lifestyle, and we are called to follow his example by bearing the sins of others against us in a Christ-like way.28
Rillera puts the point starkly: "Substitution, by definition, precludes any sort of participation, whereas an 'example' by definition does require participation/imitation. And vice versa, participation by definition is not substitution."29 He concludes: "The logic is not: Jesus died so I don't have to. It is: Jesus died and I will too."30
This argument has a certain rhetorical force, but it rests on a definition of substitution that no serious defender of PSA would accept — namely, that substitution and participation are mutually exclusive by definition. As I argue at length in Appendix H and in Chapter 24 of this book, this is a false dichotomy. The New Testament consistently holds substitution and participation together, and Peter does exactly this in 1 Peter 2:21–24.
Let us look at what Peter actually says. In 2:21, he introduces Jesus as an example (hypogrammos) — an example of what? Of righteous suffering. Peter's readers are slaves enduring unjust treatment, and he points them to Christ as the pattern of innocent suffering. So far, so good — Rillera is right about the paradigmatic context. But then Peter describes the content of what Jesus did as this pattern, and the content is substitutionary: "He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree" (2:24a). This is not an example we can follow. We cannot bear the sins of all humanity in our bodies on a tree. This is something Jesus did uniquely, in our place, that we could not do for ourselves.31
The purpose clause is decisive: "that we might die to sins and live to righteousness" (hina + subjunctive). The hina (ἵνα, "so that") marks the purpose of Christ's sin-bearing. He bore our sins so that we might die to sins and live to righteousness. His sin-bearing produces our liberation. This is not merely exemplary; it is causally effective. Christ's bearing of sins accomplishes something for us that his example alone could not.32
Gathercole's precise definition of substitution is helpful here: substitution means that Christ does something in our place that we cannot do for ourselves, with the result that we benefit from what he has done. First Peter 2:24 meets this definition precisely: Christ bore sins that were ours, in his body, with the result (marked by hina) that we are freed from sin's dominion and enabled to live for righteousness. The substitutionary action is the basis for the ethical transformation that follows.33
What is remarkable about 1 Peter 2:21–24 is precisely that it holds substitution and exemplarism together in the same breath. Jesus is both the pattern of righteous suffering (2:21) and the one who bore our sins in our place (2:24). The pattern-following is the participatory dimension; the sin-bearing is the substitutionary dimension. Peter sees no tension between them because substitution and participation are not competitors — they are companions. The substitutionary sin-bearing creates the conditions for the participatory life of righteousness. As Jeffery, Ovey, and Sach observe, the logic is: precisely because Christ bore our sins (substitution), we are now free to die to sins and live to righteousness (participation in a new way of life).34
One more observation is worth making. Rillera appeals to Clement of Rome's quotation of Isaiah 53 (1 Clement 16:3–16) as evidence that the earliest post-apostolic reading of Isaiah 53 was purely exemplary, not substitutionary. But Rillera overstates his case here. Clement's point in 1 Clement 16 is that Jesus provides a model of humility — and this is indeed the contextual purpose of his citation. But Clement is not denying the substitutionary content of Isaiah 53; he is applying one dimension of it (the exemplary) to his pastoral situation. The fact that Clement uses Isaiah 53 as an example of humility does not mean Clement believed Isaiah 53 only teaches humility. This is the same fallacy we see in Rillera's reading of 1 Peter: the presence of a paradigmatic or exemplary application does not exclude substitutionary content. A text can function simultaneously as a theological statement about what Christ accomplished (substitution) and as a pastoral model for how Christians should live (participation). Indeed, this is exactly what we find in the earliest Christian use of Isaiah 53 across the New Testament and into the early church.
Rillera's treatment of Hebrews, found primarily in chapter 6 of Lamb of the Free, is one of the more sophisticated portions of his book. His central claim is that Hebrews presents a "participatory atonement, not a substitutionary atonement."35 He builds this case through several interlocking arguments: (a) the death/slaughter of the sacrificial animal has no independent ritual significance in the Levitical system — what matters is the blood rites and the presentation of life in God's presence; (b) following David Moffitt, Jesus' atoning work in Hebrews is not primarily his death on the cross but his presentation of his blood (his indestructible life) in the heavenly sanctuary; (c) Hebrews conceives of believers as co-priests who share in Jesus' high priesthood, bearing his reproach and entering the heavenly sanctuary after him; (d) therefore, the atonement in Hebrews is fundamentally participatory — something we share in, not something done in our place.36
I want to acknowledge that Rillera's participatory reading of Hebrews captures something genuine and important. Hebrews does emphasize participation. Believers are "holy brothers and sisters who share in a heavenly calling" (3:1). They are invited to "draw near" to the throne of grace with confidence (4:16; 10:22). They bear Jesus' reproach "outside the camp" (13:13). These are participatory realities, and they should be taken seriously. Rillera is right to highlight them.
But Rillera's either/or framing — participatory not substitutionary — cannot be sustained by the text of Hebrews itself. Consider the following:
Hebrews 9:26 declares that Christ "has appeared once for all at the end of the ages to put away sin by the sacrifice of himself." This is not participatory language. We do not "put away sin by the sacrifice of ourselves." Christ does something unique, singular, and unrepeatable. Hebrews 9:28 adds: "Christ, having been offered once to bear the sins of many, will appear a second time, not to deal with sin but to save those who are eagerly waiting for him." The language of "bearing the sins of many" — drawn from Isaiah 53:12 — is substitutionary. Christ bears sins that are not his own, and he bears them once, in an unrepeatable act.
Hebrews 10:10 states: "We have been sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all." The passive voice ("we have been sanctified") and the instrumental phrase ("through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ") indicate that our sanctification is accomplished by Christ's sacrifice, not by our participation. We are the recipients, not the co-agents, of this particular act. And the "once for all" (ephapax, ἐφάπαξ) language that runs throughout Hebrews (7:27; 9:12, 26; 10:10) is inherently non-repeatable and non-participatory in its referent. We do not offer ourselves once for all to bear the sins of many. Only Christ does this. That is substitution.37
Both/And, Not Either/Or: Hebrews holds substitution and participation together in a clear and beautiful pattern. Christ does something for the people that they could not do for themselves — he puts away sin by his sacrifice, he bears the sins of many, he sanctifies us through the offering of his body (substitutionary). And then he opens the way for the people to draw near, to enter the holy of holies, to bear his reproach, to share in his priestly work (participatory). The substitution comes first; the participation follows. As argued in Chapter 10 of this book, the "once for all" sacrifice is the foundation upon which the entire participatory structure of Hebrews is built.
Rillera's claim that the death of the animal has no ritual significance — and therefore Jesus' crucifixion is not the atoning moment — proves too much. Even if we grant Moffitt's argument that the blood presentation in the heavenly sanctuary is the focal point of atonement in Hebrews (and this is debated), the fact remains that the blood must come from somewhere. The "offering of the body of Jesus Christ" (10:10) and the "blood of Jesus" (10:19) both presuppose his sacrificial death. You cannot have blood presentation without bloodshed. The death may not be the only significant ritual moment, but it is a necessary one — and Hebrews consistently treats it as such. To separate Christ's death from his atoning work in Hebrews is to perform a surgery that the text does not invite.
Furthermore, Hebrews 2:17 states that Jesus was made like his brothers "in every respect, so that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God, to make propitiation [hilaskesthai, ἱλάσκεσθαι] for the sins of the people." This is explicitly propitiatory language. The author of Hebrews is saying that Jesus' high priestly work involves making propitiation — dealing with sin in a way that addresses the offense against God's holiness. And this propitiatory work is done "for the sins of the people" — their sins, not his own. The "for" language here is beneficiary and representative: Jesus does something regarding the people's sins that the people cannot do for themselves. This is substitutionary propitiation.
Hebrews 7:27 reinforces this: "He has no need, like those high priests, to offer sacrifices daily, first for his own sins and then for those of the people, since he did this once for all when he offered up himself." The contrast between the Levitical priests (who must offer for their own sins) and Jesus (who has no sin of his own) highlights the unique, vicarious character of Christ's offering. He offers himself — not for his own sins, for he has none, but for the sins of others. The Levitical priests participated in a system of ongoing sacrifices that could never definitively resolve the problem of sin (10:1–4). Jesus, by contrast, offers a single, unrepeatable sacrifice that accomplishes what the entire Levitical system pointed toward but could never achieve. This "once for all" quality is precisely what makes Christ's sacrifice substitutionary rather than merely participatory: it is something done for the people that they could not do for themselves, and it does not need to be — indeed, cannot be — repeated by those who benefit from it.
Rillera's chapter 7 represents an impressive but ultimately unsuccessful attempt to strip the key New Testament atonement texts of their sacrificial and substitutionary content. Let me summarize what we have found:
In Romans 3:25–26, Rillera's votive-gift reading of hilastērion cannot account for the blood language, the paresis problem, or the broader judicial context of Romans 1–3. The sacrificial, propitiatory reading — encompassing both expiation and propitiation within a framework of divine self-giving — remains far more compelling.
In 2 Corinthians 5:21, even without the sin-offering interpretation of hamartia, the verse teaches a substitutionary exchange. Christ is "made sin" so that we might "become the righteousness of God." The patristic tradition — including Chrysostom — reads this in explicitly penal and substitutionary terms. Rillera's participatory-only reading reduces the verse to an incarnation statement and cannot account for the aorist verb or the purpose clause.
In Galatians 3:13, the substitutionary structure of Paul's argument is clear: Christ became a curse for us (hyper hēmōn), and the result is our redemption from the curse. Rillera's solidarity reading cannot explain why Christ's sharing in our cursedness would liberate us from it. The resurrection completes substitution; it does not replace it.
In Romans 8:3, even on Rillera's own reading, the logic remains substitutionary in structure: God condemned Sin in the flesh of Christ, not in our flesh — and the result is that "there is now no condemnation" for those in Christ (8:1). The peri hamartias language likely carries sacrificial overtones, though Paul operates simultaneously with multiple conceptual frameworks.
In 1 Peter 2:24, Peter holds exemplarism and substitution together in the same passage. Christ is the "example" of righteous suffering (2:21) and the one who "bore our sins in his body on the tree" (2:24). The purpose clause (hina) shows that his sin-bearing is causally effective, not merely illustrative.
In Hebrews, the "once for all" sacrifice language is irreducibly substitutionary — something Christ did uniquely that we do not and cannot repeat — even as the letter also invites rich participatory engagement with Christ's priestly work.
What emerges from this survey is not a choice between substitution and participation, but a recognition that the New Testament authors held both together without any sense of contradiction. Paul, Peter, and the author of Hebrews all present Jesus' death as both something done for us in our place (substitution) and something that generates a new reality in which we participate (union, discipleship, co-suffering). The "for us" and the "in him" are not competitors. They are two sides of the same coin.
It is worth pausing to reflect on Rillera's methodology, because it reveals a pattern that recurs throughout Lamb of the Free. In each case — Romans 3:25, 2 Corinthians 5:21, Galatians 3:13, Romans 8:3, 1 Peter 2:24, Hebrews — Rillera identifies a plausible alternative reading, shows that the traditional reading is not the only possibility, and then concludes that the traditional reading is wrong. But "not the only possibility" is not the same as "incorrect." In each case, the alternative reading he proposes creates more problems than it solves. The votive-gift reading of hilastērion cannot explain the blood language or the paresis problem. The participatory reading of 2 Corinthians 5:21 cannot explain the aorist verb or the exchange structure. The solidarity reading of Galatians 3:13 cannot explain why Christ's sharing in the curse would liberate others from it. The purely paradigmatic reading of 1 Peter 2:24 cannot account for the hina clause. And the participatory-only reading of Hebrews cannot account for the "once for all" sacrifice language. In every instance, the substitutionary reading provides a more complete and more internally coherent account of the text.
I also want to note something that Rillera's readers might not realize: the breadth of scholarly opinion that he does not engage. Rillera interacts with a thoughtful selection of scholars, but his engagement with major pro-PSA scholarship is quite thin. Leon Morris's landmark study The Apostolic Preaching of the Cross — which remains the most comprehensive lexical study of atonement vocabulary in the New Testament — receives minimal attention. John Stott's The Cross of Christ, one of the most influential evangelical treatments of the atonement, is not meaningfully engaged. William Lane Craig's Atonement and the Death of Christ, which provides both a rigorous exegetical treatment and a philosophical defense of PSA, is absent from the conversation. Henri Blocher's work on the atonement, Thomas Schreiner's important contributions, and I. Howard Marshall's careful analysis of the substitutionary dimensions of the cross are largely overlooked. This is not a minor gap. A book that claims PSA has "no scriptural anchor" needs to engage seriously with the scholars who have spent careers anchoring it in Scripture.42
Finally, I want to reiterate a point I have made throughout this book: the version of PSA that Rillera critiques is often not the version that the best defenders of PSA actually hold. When Rillera describes substitution as a model in which "God pours out wrath on an innocent victim" or in which the Father punishes the Son in a way that divides the Trinity, he is describing a caricature that John Stott, William Lane Craig, and I all reject. The PSA I defend in this book — and especially in Chapters 19 and 20 — is one in which the Triune God acts in unified, self-giving love. The Son voluntarily bears the judicial consequences of human sin, not as an unwilling victim but as the self-substitution of God. The Father does not pour out rage on the Son; the Father and Son together, in the unity of the Spirit, absorb the consequences of sin so that humanity might be freed. This Trinitarian, self-substitutionary understanding of the atonement is both more faithful to the biblical texts and more theologically coherent than the caricature Rillera attacks. And it integrates naturally with the participatory, liberative, and exemplary dimensions that Rillera rightly values.43
Rillera is a serious scholar, and his work has the virtue of forcing defenders of PSA to sharpen their arguments and attend more carefully to the actual language of the texts. But his central project — demonstrating that PSA has "no scriptural anchor" — fails when tested against the cumulative weight of the New Testament evidence. The anchor holds. Sacrificial, penal, and substitutionary themes are not later theological impositions onto the text. They are woven into the very fabric of the earliest Christian proclamation. As I have argued throughout this book, especially in Chapters 8, 9, 10, and 19, the cross of Christ is the place where divine justice and divine mercy meet, where the penalty of sin is borne by God himself in the person of the Son, and where a new humanity is created through the exchange of sin and righteousness. This is not a theory to be embarrassed by. It is the gospel itself.38
1 Andrew Remington Rillera, Lamb of the Free: Recovering the Varied Sacrificial Understandings of Jesus's Death (Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, 2024), chap. 7, "When Jesus's Death Is Not a Sacrifice," under "Romans 3:25–26" and "Hilastērion as a Greco-Roman Conciliatory Gift." Rillera draws extensively on Daniel P. Bailey's lexical research. ↩
2 Rillera, Lamb of the Free, chap. 7, "When Jesus's Death Is Not a Sacrifice," under "Hilastērion as a Greco-Roman Conciliatory Gift." The Metropolis inscriptions are discussed in connection with Octavian's reconciliation gestures after the civil war. ↩
3 David L. Allen, The Atonement: A Biblical, Theological, and Historical Study of the Cross of Christ (Nashville: B&H Academic, 2019), 29–35. Allen provides an extensive discussion of the kapporet and its significance in the sacrificial system. See also Leon Morris, The Apostolic Preaching of the Cross, 3rd ed. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1965), 144–74. ↩
4 Rillera, Lamb of the Free, chap. 7, under "Hilastērion as Ark of the Covenant Lid?" Rillera cites Deissmann's observation that if Paul had meant the ark lid, he should have said the cross was the hilastērion, not that Christ himself was. ↩
5 William Lane Craig, Atonement and the Death of Christ: An Exegetical, Historical, and Philosophical Exploration (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2020), chap. 2, "Sacrifice," under "Propitiatory Sacrifices." Craig argues that the protracted debate over the linguistic meaning of hilastērion has diverted attention from the conceptual necessity of propitiation in Paul's argument. ↩
6 John R. W. Stott, The Cross of Christ (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2006), 167–72. Stott discusses the inseparability of blood language and sacrificial significance in the biblical tradition. See also Allen, The Atonement, 30–32. ↩
7 Craig, Atonement and the Death of Christ, chap. 2, "Sacrifice." Craig notes that Paul's crowning statement concerning Christ's atoning death comes against the backdrop of his exposition of God's wrath and condemnation in Romans 1–3. Something in the exposition must solve this problem. ↩
8 Craig, Atonement and the Death of Christ, chap. 2, "Sacrifice," under "Propitiatory Sacrifices." Craig writes that given the manifold effects of Christ's blood, hilastērion is doubtlessly a multivalent metaphor connoting both expiation and propitiation. ↩
9 Leon Morris, The Apostolic Preaching of the Cross, 3rd ed. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1965), 125–85. Morris's rebuttal of Dodd is widely regarded as decisive in establishing the propitiatory dimension of the hilaskesthai word group. See also Stott, The Cross of Christ, 167–72, who summarizes the debate and argues that God himself provides the means of propitiation — a divine self-propitiation that is the opposite of pagan appeasement. ↩
10 For the full exegetical treatment of Romans 3:21–26, see Chapter 8 of this book. Allen, The Atonement, 29–36, provides a thorough analysis of the hilastērion terminology and its theological significance. ↩
11 Rillera, Lamb of the Free, chap. 7, "When Jesus's Death Is Not a Sacrifice," under "2 Corinthians 5:21." Rillera draws on Dominika Kurek-Chomycz's argument that the sin-offering interpretation fails because of the absence of peri and the lack of cultic imagery in the immediate context. ↩
12 Rillera, Lamb of the Free, chap. 7, under "2 Corinthians 5:21." ↩
13 Simon Gathercole, Defending Substitution: An Essay on Atonement in Paul (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2015), 39–42. Gathercole's evaluation of Hooker's interchange model demonstrates that the interchange has a substitutionary structure, even when participatory "in him" language is present. ↩
14 Stott, The Cross of Christ, 147–51. Stott's discussion of "the great exchange" in 2 Corinthians 5:21 emphasizes the aorist tense and the event-character of the verse. See also Chapter 9 of this book. ↩
15 Fr. Joshua Schooping, An Existential Soteriology: Penal Substitutionary Atonement in Light of the Mystical Theology of the Church Fathers (Olyphant, PA: St. Theophan the Recluse Press, 2020), chap. 17, "Penal Substitution: St. John Chrysostom's Commentary on 2 Corinthians 5:21." Chrysostom writes that God "suffered Him that did no wrong to be punished for those who had done wrong" and describes Christ as dying "as one cursed." This is unambiguously penal and substitutionary language from one of the greatest exegetes of the Eastern church. ↩
16 Gathercole, Defending Substitution, 39–45. Gathercole distinguishes between the substitutionary ground ("for us") and the participatory result ("in him") in 2 Corinthians 5:21. ↩
17 Rillera, Lamb of the Free, chap. 7, "When Jesus's Death Is Not a Sacrifice," under "Galatians 3:13." Rillera draws on Daniel Streett's argument that "becoming a curse" is idiom for becoming an object of scorn and derision, as in Jeremiah. ↩
18 Rillera, Lamb of the Free, chap. 7, under "Galatians 3:13." ↩
19 Craig, Atonement and the Death of Christ, chap. 4, "Divine Justice." Craig discusses the substitutionary logic of curse-bearing in Galatians 3:13. See also Gathercole, Defending Substitution, 15–22, on the meaning of hyper in Pauline atonement statements. ↩
20 Gathercole, Defending Substitution, 15–25. Gathercole provides a comprehensive analysis of the substitutionary force of hyper with the genitive in Paul's letters, especially in atonement contexts. ↩
21 Rillera, Lamb of the Free, chap. 7, under "Galatians 3:13." ↩
22 Thomas R. Schreiner, "Penal Substitution View," in The Nature of the Atonement: Four Views, ed. James Beilby and Paul R. Eddy (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2006), 67–98. Schreiner argues that the death and resurrection are complementary soteriological events: the death bears the penalty, the resurrection vindicates and liberates. See also the discussion of Romans 4:25 in Chapter 9 of this book. ↩
23 Craig, Atonement and the Death of Christ, chap. 9, "Penal Substitution: Its Coherence." Craig's philosophical analysis demonstrates that solidarity alone cannot account for the transfer of benefit in Paul's atonement statements; substitutionary logic is required. ↩
24 Rillera, Lamb of the Free, chap. 7, "When Jesus's Death Is Not a Sacrifice," under "Romans 8:3." ↩
25 Allen, The Atonement, 52–55. Allen argues that peri hamartias in Romans 8:3 carries sacrificial overtones even in a context where Sin is personified, because Paul layers multiple theological frameworks within the same argument. See also Leon Morris, The Epistle to the Romans, PNTC (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1988), 301–4. ↩
26 Stott, The Cross of Christ, 150–52. Stott discusses the connection between Romans 8:1 ("no condemnation") and 8:3 ("condemned sin in the flesh"): the condemnation fell on sin in the flesh of Christ so that it need not fall on us. ↩
27 Rillera, Lamb of the Free, chap. 7, under "Romans 8:3." ↩
28 Rillera, Lamb of the Free, chap. 7, "When Jesus's Death Is Not a Sacrifice," under "1 Peter 2:24 and the Suffering Servant from Isaiah 53." ↩
29 Rillera, Lamb of the Free, chap. 7, under "1 Peter 2:24 and the Suffering Servant from Isaiah 53." ↩
30 Rillera, Lamb of the Free, chap. 7, under "1 Peter 2:24 and the Suffering Servant from Isaiah 53." ↩
31 Steve Jeffery, Michael Ovey, and Andrew Sach, Pierced for Our Transgressions: Rediscovering the Glory of Penal Substitution (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2007), 72–78. Jeffery, Ovey, and Sach provide a detailed analysis of 1 Peter 2:21–25, demonstrating that the paradigmatic framework does not exclude substitutionary content. ↩
32 Gathercole, Defending Substitution, 18–20. Gathercole's definition of substitution — Christ does something in our place that we cannot do for ourselves, with the result that we benefit — is precisely met by 1 Peter 2:24. ↩
33 Gathercole, Defending Substitution, 15–25. ↩
34 Jeffery, Ovey, and Sach, Pierced for Our Transgressions, 74–78. ↩
35 Rillera, Lamb of the Free, chap. 6, "Jesus, Purgation Sacrifices, and the Day of Decontamination," under "Participatory Atonement in Hebrews." ↩
36 Rillera, Lamb of the Free, chap. 6, under "Participatory Atonement in Hebrews" and "Kipper in Hebrews." Rillera draws on David Moffitt's argument that the atoning action in Hebrews is Jesus' presentation of his living blood in the heavenly sanctuary, not his death on the cross. ↩
37 Allen, The Atonement, 60–68. See also I. Howard Marshall, Aspects of the Atonement: Cross and Resurrection in the Reconciling of God and Humanity (Colorado Springs: Paternoster, 2007), 51–62, on the "once for all" language in Hebrews and its substitutionary implications. For the full treatment, see Chapter 10 of this book. ↩
38 For the comprehensive integration of these themes — substitution, participation, propitiation, expiation, and victory — see Chapter 24 of this book, "Integration: A Multi-Faceted Atonement with Penal Substitution at the Center." ↩
39 See the discussion of 4 Maccabees 17:21–22 in David A. deSilva, 4 Maccabees: Introduction and Commentary on the Greek Text in Codex Sinaiticus (Leiden: Brill, 2006), 253–57. DeSilva notes that the martyrs' deaths are presented in explicitly atoning and sacrificial terms, including the language of hilastērion combined with blood and death. Craig, Atonement and the Death of Christ, chap. 2, "Sacrifice," also discusses the relevance of 4 Maccabees for understanding Paul's use of hilastērion. ↩
40 Jeffery, Ovey, and Sach, Pierced for Our Transgressions, 60–67. The authors argue that the "just and the justifier" formula in Romans 3:26 requires a mechanism by which divine justice is satisfied in the very act of justifying sinners. See also Chapter 8 of this book for the full treatment. ↩
41 Stott, The Cross of Christ, 147–51. Stott's treatment of 2 Corinthians 5:21 emphasizes that God does not simply forgive without a basis in justice; the substitutionary exchange provides the foundation for reconciliation. See also Allen, The Atonement, 55–58. ↩
42 Leon Morris, The Apostolic Preaching of the Cross, 3rd ed. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1965); Stott, The Cross of Christ; Craig, Atonement and the Death of Christ; Henri Blocher, "The Sacrifice of Jesus Christ: The Current Theological Situation," European Journal of Theology 8 (1999): 23–36; Thomas R. Schreiner, "Penal Substitution View," in The Nature of the Atonement: Four Views, ed. James Beilby and Paul R. Eddy (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2006), 67–98; I. Howard Marshall, Aspects of the Atonement: Cross and Resurrection in the Reconciling of God and Humanity (Colorado Springs: Paternoster, 2007). ↩
43 On the Trinitarian self-substitution model of PSA, see Stott, The Cross of Christ, 133–63, especially his chapter on "The Self-Substitution of God." See also Chapter 20 of this book, "The Love of the Trinity in the Atonement — Against 'Cosmic Child Abuse.'" Craig, Atonement and the Death of Christ, chap. 9, "Penal Substitution: Its Coherence," and chap. 10, "Penal Substitution: Its Justification," provide the philosophical framework for understanding how substitution is morally justified when the substitute acts voluntarily and when the penalty is borne by God Himself. ↩
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