Dr. Will RYan | EXPEDITION 44

G. P. Wagenfuhr and Amy J. Erickson

Introduction

In The Sabbath Gospel, G. P. Wagenfuhr and Amy Erickson offer a constructive and, at points, disruptive proposal: that Sabbath is not merely an ethical category within Scripture but the hermeneutical and ontological center of the gospel itself. Their work situates Sabbath within a broader narrative framework that reorders time, reframes divine sovereignty, and reconfigures the nature of salvation. In doing so, they join a growing chorus of scholars who resist reductionist soteriologies and seek to recover the relational, covenantal, and cosmic dimensions of biblical theology.¹

The volume is ambitious. It attempts to relocate theological discourse away from abstract metaphysical starting points and toward the lived, narrative reality of God’s engagement with creation. The authors’ central contention—that Scripture presents a “Sabbath gospel” in contrast to humanly constructed “gospels of rest”—places their work in conversation with Walter Brueggemann’s socio-theological readings of Sabbath, John Walton’s functional ontology of creation, and Gregory Boyd’s cruciform account of divine action.²

Time, Narrative, and the Two Ages

Wagenfuhr and Erickson’s framing of Scripture as a “tale of two times” is one of the book’s most generative contributions. Time, they argue, is not a neutral container but a theologically charged medium shaped by competing sovereignties.³ This resonates strongly with Second Temple Jewish conceptions of “this age” and “the age to come,” as well as with Pauline apocalyptic categories in which time itself is enslaved under hostile powers.⁴

Their claim that time is qualitative rather than merely quantitative aligns with Brueggemann’s insistence that Israel’s calendar reflects a counter-imagination to imperial temporality, particularly in its resistance to endless production and accumulation.⁵ Likewise, their emphasis on time as relational and formative finds support in biblical narrative theology, where identity is shaped not by abstraction but by participation in God’s story.⁶

The authors’ reading of Genesis 1–11 through this lens is particularly compelling. They interpret the movement from Eden to Babel as a transition from divinely ordered time to humanly constructed temporality, a shift marked by increasing autonomy and fragmentation.⁷ This trajectory mirrors Walton’s argument that Genesis is concerned with functional order and sacred space, suggesting that Babel represents not merely disobedience but a misdirected attempt to establish sacred order apart from God’s presence.⁸

Babel, Empire, and the Illusion of Unity

The treatment of Babel stands as one of the book’s strongest exegetical and theological achievements. Rather than reducing the narrative to moralism, Wagenfuhr and Erickson situate it within a broader ANE context of temple-building, cosmic geography, and political consolidation.⁹ The tower is not simply a monument but a symbolic center of power, an attempt to mediate divine presence through human construction.¹⁰

This reading aligns with ancient Near Eastern evidence regarding ziggurats as cosmic axes and with Mircea Eliade’s observations concerning sacred space as the “navel of the world.”¹¹ Yet the authors extend this insight by framing Babel as an archetype of empire—an enduring pattern in which human societies seek unity through uniformity and control.¹²

Here the influence of Jacques Ellul is evident, particularly in the critique of technological and political systems that claim autonomy and inevitability.¹³ The authors’ suggestion that modern appeals to diversity can function as mechanisms of homogenization is both provocative and worthy of further exploration.¹⁴

Importantly, God’s response to Babel is interpreted not as arbitrary punishment but as a redemptive disruption of false unity. The confusion of languages introduces diversity as a safeguard against totalizing systems, anticipating the reconciled plurality of Pentecost.¹⁵ This reading coheres with Acts 2, where linguistic diversity is not abolished but transformed into a medium of communion.¹⁶

Sabbath as Gift and Gospel

At the heart of the book lies its redefinition of the gospel. Against what the authors describe as the “dream-home gospel”—the human impulse to construct environments of stability and control—they present Sabbath as a gift that cannot be produced or possessed.¹⁷ This reframing challenges both secular and ecclesial assumptions, calling into question the ways in which Christian practice can mirror the very systems it seeks to resist.

This emphasis on gift resonates with the broader biblical theme of grace as unmerited favor, as well as with theological traditions that emphasize participation over transaction.¹⁸ The authors’ insistence that the gospel reforms desire rather than merely behavior echoes Augustine’s account of disordered loves and aligns with contemporary discussions of formation and discipleship.¹⁹

Moreover, their portrayal of Sabbath as liberation from systems of exploitation reflects Brueggemann’s characterization of Sabbath as an act of resistance against Pharaoh-like economies.²⁰ In this sense, Sabbath becomes not only a theological concept but a political and social reality, challenging structures that perpetuate inequality and oppression.

Sin as Power and Household

The book’s hamartiology further strengthens its argument. By framing sin as a power that organizes entire “households” of existence, Wagenfuhr and Erickson move beyond individualistic accounts and recover a more holistic biblical perspective.²¹ This approach finds strong support in Pauline theology, where sin is depicted as a reigning force that enslaves humanity.²²

Their description of sin as an economy of death, exploitation, and corruption aligns with Second Temple Jewish literature and with modern theological accounts of systemic evil.²³ It also provides a coherent framework for understanding the relationship between personal sin and structural injustice, a connection often neglected in traditional theology.

Hesed and the Reorientation of Theology

Perhaps the most controversial aspect of the work is its critique of classical theological starting points, particularly the emphasis on aseity. Wagenfuhr and Erickson argue that Scripture does not begin with abstract descriptions of God’s essence but with covenantal relationship, encapsulated in the concept of hesed.²⁴

This claim is not without merit. The Hebrew Bible consistently portrays God in terms of faithful action within history, and the repeated covenant formula underscores the relational nature of divine identity.²⁵ Their reading of Exodus 3:14 as a statement of reliability rather than metaphysical being is provocative and finds some support in narrative interpretations of the text.²⁶

Nevertheless, their critique risks oversimplifying the theological tradition. Classical doctrines of divine attributes were developed not to replace relational theology but to articulate it within a coherent metaphysical framework.²⁷ As scholars such as N. T. Wright have argued, the task is not to abandon ontology but to integrate it within the biblical narrative.²⁸

Sovereignty, History, and Divine Action

The authors’ treatment of divine sovereignty reflects a desire to avoid determinism and to preserve the integrity of human agency. Their depiction of God as “invading” history with Sabbath suggests a dynamic interaction between divine and human action.²⁹

While this approach has pastoral and theological appeal, it raises questions regarding the nature of providence and the extent of divine control. The tension between sovereignty and freedom remains unresolved, and further engagement with classical and contemporary discussions would strengthen the argument.³⁰

Christological and Eschatological Considerations

Although Christ is present throughout the work, the book’s primary focus remains on structural and thematic elements. A more explicit integration of Christology would enhance the authors’ proposal, particularly in relation to:

the cross as the dismantling of Babel-like systems
the resurrection as the inauguration of Sabbath rest
the Spirit as the agent of Sabbath participation

These themes are implicit but could be developed more fully in dialogue with New Testament scholarship.³¹

Conclusion

The Sabbath Gospel represents a significant contribution to contemporary theological discourse. Its strengths lie in its:

narrative coherence
exegetical depth
and willingness to challenge entrenched assumptions

By centering Sabbath within the gospel, Wagenfuhr and Erickson invite readers to reconsider not only their theology but their way of life. Their work calls the church to embody a form of existence that resists the logic of Babel and participates in the rest of God.

In an age marked by restlessness, fragmentation, and control, this vision is both timely and necessary. It reminds us that the gospel is not a system to be mastered but a gift to be received—a Sabbath into which we are invited to dwell.

PURCHASE HERE

Notes

Wagenfuhr and Erickson, The Sabbath Gospel, 1–10.
Walter Brueggemann, Sabbath as Resistance (Louisville: WJK, 2014), 1–20.
Wagenfuhr and Erickson, 85–89.
Gal 1:4; Rom 12:2.
Brueggemann, Sabbath as Resistance, 25–40.
Craig G. Bartholomew and Michael W. Goheen, The Drama of Scripture (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2004).
Wagenfuhr and Erickson, 83–86.
John H. Walton, The Lost World of Genesis One (Downers Grove: IVP, 2009).
Wagenfuhr and Erickson, 83–84.
Ibid.
Mircea Eliade, The Sacred and the Profane (New York: Harcourt, 1959).
Wagenfuhr and Erickson, 84–86.
Jacques Ellul, The Technological Society (New York: Vintage, 1964).
Wagenfuhr and Erickson, 84.
Ibid., 86–87.
Acts 2:1–13.
Wagenfuhr and Erickson, 27–30.
Eph 2:8–9.
Augustine, Confessions, trans. Henry Chadwick (Oxford: OUP, 1991).
Brueggemann, Sabbath as Resistance, 44–60.
Wagenfuhr and Erickson, 87–88.
Rom 5:12–21.
1 Enoch; Jubilees.
Wagenfuhr and Erickson, 27–28.
Exod 6:7; Lev 26:12.
Exod 3:14.
Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae.
N. T. Wright, How God Became King (New York: HarperOne, 2012).
Wagenfuhr and Erickson, 28.
Kevin J. Vanhoozer, Remythologizing Theology (Cambridge: CUP, 2010).
Ben Witherington III, Jesus the Sage (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1994).

Baptism, then, is not what produces salvation. It “saves” in that it reflects a heart decision: a pledge of loyalty to the risen Savior. In effect, baptism in New Testament theology is a loyalty oath, a public avowal of who is on the Lord’s side in the cosmic war between good and evil.

Michael Heiser, The Unseen Realm

Baptism is important. In many ways, I think it is the purest example still intact today of what it meant to make an allegiant statement as they did in Jesus’ day. I am often asked what do you say when you baptize someone? People question as if there is some kind of magical phrase or potion that comes with Baptism. It probably won’t surprise you that I don’t really like the usual repetition of words that often come with baptismal “services”. You have probably heard a pastor proclaim something like, “in obedience to our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, and upon your profession of faith, I baptize you in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.” It’s not that I have a big problem with these words, but my issue is more that the repetition of liturgy from scripture today probably wasn’t really what the authors had in mind here and in other similar situations such as the Lord’s prayer. But that doesn’t make it wrong to do so either. The words of baptism are important whether you see the act as a sacrament or more of an allegiant profession of faith. Nearly everyone sees baptism as an outward sign of a decision that has happened in the head and the heart. It’s the best picture of Biblical 1^st century allegiance still found within our modern western culture.

“Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life.” Romans 6:3-4 ESV

We usually think of life at baptism, not death. We want to think joy and often in western thinking death is not joyous, but Paul’s culture (yes, I continue to arguably allude that Paul wrote Romans or at least had it penned) didn’t think like this. Death was often honorably esteemed and eventually everyone would die.

So why does Paul choose to use the phrase baptized into death? We need to consider how first century followers viewed baptism. Within Judaism, but also other religions baptism was a standard practice of renewal or cleansing.

Without venturing too far into this, baptism in the New Testament signifies an allegiant lifelong commitment (purification) similar to what God asked of Abraham in the covenant of circumcision. There are several connections that are important there.

At the time when this was written, the Greek term (which we transliterate “baptism”) was also a verb used to describe violent acts like drowning. We also see this similar usage in Luke 12:50 and several other places in the Bible. The author wants the reader to consider complete (possibly even violent) death of the old life. All that a person was, any influences you may have been under, any oaths of allegiance, and claims to who you were, even to the point of what you might have been completely immersed (water drowning metaphor) into that kind of living (antinomianism). Paul says it is now dead, all of it.

That’s why when Jesus says the centurion in Matthew 8 has more faith than anyone else (I have not found anyone in Israel with such great faith) it was likely a death sentence, and the centurion was ready for that. He literally was ready to give up his oath of allegiance and life spiritually, but also physically. (That would have been the natural consequence for a centurion that placed their allegiance to anyone other than the emperor.)

When we choose to bury all that was us, we in turn accept new life in Christ pledging the reciprocal dance of grace. I have used this expression several times in the book. [The Roman writer] Seneca explains the image of three dancing connected by grace: a benefit ‘passing from hand to hand nevertheless returns to the giver; the beauty of the whole is destroyed if the course is anywhere broken’ (Seneca, [De Beneficiis, meaning “On Favors”] 1.3.3-4). The “three graces” picture visually represented how grace was understood to function in the first century Greco-Roman world in which Paul wrote. Grace (charis) originated with a generous giver usually thought of as the Benefactor. Often the Benefector was introduced to one in need by a mediator. The gift was then accepted by the recipient (client) who in his or her thankfulness and gratitude in turn extended the gift (grace) to others, and this in turn benefited the original giver. The recipient in many ways became a representative of the Benefactor to those in the Benefactors society. Coaching or mentoring towards what the Benefactor desired was often nurtured through the mediator to the recipient. It became a continual relationship between the three entities. In this unbroken circle, everyone was understood to benefit. In this sense, God works through Christ in us as we freely receive the gift and continue to give all of it to others as they are then introduced in the same way through the mediator to the father. Everything is freely given.

We often use the word “adopted” when describing our new relationship in Him. In the Greco Roman Empire adopted beings could not be disowned as natural born children could be. When you were “adopted in” you were guaranteed the new life promised to you by those that gave the pledge to adopt. You were an heir that could not be passed over in terms of inheritance. It was a new covenant that was cut for you. It was a free will reciprocal agreement even though it seemed like the party adopting had everything to lose and nothing to gain; but as we all know with children that isn’t the case. The blessing is reciprocal.

Baptism is a confirmation to lifelong allegiant faith, a way of life given to king Jesus. An entrance into a beautiful, joyful, reciprocal dance of grace but starts by putting to death “all” that you were. You are no longer your own but His, a new creation by which your very life is an image of His whom you belong. He is in you and your life is a temple that bears His name. Your very essence is to bear the light of Jesus and extend that gift to others. This is not of yourself but only in the grace of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

In life you are now set apart to serve. The Hebrew word ‘abad (עבד) can be translated as “to work,” “to serve,” or “to worship.” This is the word that is used to describe the original mission for humankind.

In essence, through baptism, we return to our cosmic calling. In faith, we worship as we serve. All that we are, we are in Christ.