In his book God of Sense and Traditions of Non-Sense Sigve K. Tonstad, professor of biblical interpretation at Loma Linda University in California, tackles some of the most difficult questions connected with the thorny issue of suffering, evil, and the goodness of God. Tonstad is a master of words. He employs lavish language and writes with almost poetic fervor. He is well acquainted with theological and philosophical traditions that have shaped the discussion at hand and skillfully uses classical pieces of literature (such as the iconic story of the Grand Inquisitor in Dostoevsky’s epochal book The Brothers Karamazov) and pivotal cases of history (from Roger Williams to Auschwitz) to illustrate the impasse we are facing.

In twenty-one chapters Tonstad builds his case. He first sets the stage by pointing out the deficiencies in traditional theological explanations of evil by recourse to the most excruciating example of maliciousness—the Holocaust. He also points out neglected aspects of biblical teaching that have led to distorted perspectives, such as the denial of the involvement of demonic angels and Satan in the great controversy between good and evil. His affirmation of the reality of Satan and demonic forces at work in much of the evil we see in this world is positive and well taken (pp. 36–52, 245ff, 289–290). It is indeed a pity that much of theology has left out the role of Satan when dealing with the evil in this world. Tonstad’s intimate knowledge of various theological positions results in some unusual comparisons, such as the interesting association of the church father Origen with Bart Ehrman (pp. 53–56), that are enlightening. Tonstad’s vast knowledge of biblical, theological, and nonbiblical literary sources allows him to creatively weave different strands of thought together. This makes interesting reading and learning. It is strangely surprising, however, that he does not mention Victor E. Frankl, a prominent survivor of Auschwitz and other Nazi concentration camps. Frankl is the founder of the Third Viennese School of Psychotherapy, the school of Logotherapy. In his book Man’s Search for Meaning Frankl gives helpful perspectives on freedom and responsibility in light of our gravest existential challenges. The discussion in Tonstad’s book would have been enriched from Frankl’s insights. While Tonstad skillfully weaves interesting aspects together, this strength turns out to be a weakness at the same time. In almost every chapter the reader finds Tonstad presenting an interesting point, but then jumping to another aspect, elaborating other details while his initial thought fades. This constant back and forth between contending positions in almost dialectical fashion does not foster easy understanding. Fascinating details are often presented at the cost of the flow of his argument. This makes the book cumbersome to read.

Throughout the book Tonstad is unafraid to ask tough questions. His proposed solutions to those questions, however, are not always convincing. Tonstad is adamant in affirming the value of human freedom and repudiates any use of coercion as a tool of divine action. With exegetical skills he plows through major biblical stories that depict God as acting in seemingly strange ways and tries to make sense out of something that is difficult to understand. Where God is depicted as someone who employs retributive justice or uses divine power to accomplish His plans, Tonstad provides alternative readings of the biblical text. Sometimes his creative new interpretations are driven more by his perspective of divine justice and goodness than by the actual text of Scripture. While there are some interesting insights to be gained, not all of his attempts to reread and reconstruct the biblical narrative are equally valid. What is said of Gerhardsson’s interpretation of the Gospel of Matthew (cf. p. 269) could equally be said of Tonstad’s biblical exegesis: it is brilliant, but at times speculative!

Throughout the book there is a recurring thought that sticks with the reader: unquestioning obedience is too simplistic. For Tonstad unquestioning obedience is not the biblical ideal. It is undoubtedly reasonable and good to try to better understand what God is really saying. Yet, we created beings will not always be able to explain everything in God’s dealing with us. But for Tonstad obedience in the absence of understanding is deplorable (pp. 231–237 and passim). While there is certainly some sad truth to his statement that “the worst evil in the world has been committed in the name of obedience” (p. 234) we have to remember that some of the most noble acts in history have also been accomplished in the name of obedience. The latter is an aspect strangely absent in Tonstad’s reasoning. He misses the fact that obedience can also be motivated by love rather than just by understanding and that obedience is an expression of a relationship. If obedience is only legitimate and acceptable when I understand it fully (p. 278), my understanding quickly becomes the norm for what is right and wrong. This, however, does not adequately take into consideration the noetic effects of sin on our human understanding and reasoning!

Furthermore, Tonstad repeatedly disparages the idea of (divine) judgement and retribution. He flatly states that “justice . . . is not found in retribution” (p. 261). God certainly does not exercise personal vendettas, yet He is capable of a robust and effective opposition to all evil and sin. Tonstad’s peculiar perception of the nature of God, that categorically excludes any divine force to oppose evil, leads him to some questionable and unfortunate conclusions. While coercion surely is not God’s way of dealing with us (p. 350 and passim), Tonstad misses the point that in God’s dealing with sin there is also an aspect of divine justice that needs to be realized and executed in the face of relentless and unflinching evil. Justice is a fundamental aspect of human existence that resonates with our sense of fairness and needs to be upheld. Tonstadt is correct that there is demonic activity at the end of time, but to state that the eschatological scenes in the book of Revelation “cannot be ascribed to divine agency” (p. 377) and that they only “describe demonic horror and not divine terror” (p. 390) and that “the seals, trumpets, and bowls represent mind-numbing exposés of demonic activity” (p. 391) does not do full justice to the biblical text. To argue, as Tonstad mistakenly concludes, that the book of “Revelation portrays the end of evil as self-destruction” (p. 394) so that “it is not fire from without that brings an end to the evil power but evil in her midst” (p. 394) because evil is “causing its own destruction” (p. 394, cf. 395, and passim), distorts the biblical picture and does not take the tenacity of sin seriously enough. Here Tonstad is close to the late A. Graham Maxwell, to whom, according to his own words, he owes the most for the rough contours of this book (p. xi). Tonstad is fully aware that “this might disappoint many who are convinced that the texts speak of punitive action that is alleged to be necessary for justice to be served” (p. 395). He knows that if the words of Revelation 20:9, “fire came down from heaven and consumed them” (Rev 20:9), were to be taken straightforwardly “all the images of self-destruction [that were proposed by Tonstad] will be for naught, and our theology of the end of evil will be terribly compromised” (p. 396). Yes, indeed, that would be the case. And it is not just Revelation 20:9 that challenges Tonstad’s interpretation. Other biblical passages, among them Malachi 4:1–2, Thessalonians 1:7–9, and 2 Peter 3:10–12, could be mentioned.

While Tonstad wants to maintain some nebulous notion of judgment (p. 395), his interpretation raises significant questions about the nature of judgment and God’s involvement in it. This has wide-ranging implications for several biblical doctrines as well as for our understanding of the nature of God and the biblical teaching of the wrath of God. To claim that sin will be eradicated by means of self-destruction and that evil is not destroyed but rather “implodes” (p. 394) because of its own evilness raises some important questions: does that not leave the solution of the sin problem ultimately to Satan and sinners, who will eventually self-destruct, rather than to God who alone is able to overcome sin? Would God still be the author and finisher of our salvation, if sin eradicates itself? Furthermore, would God truly be sovereign, omnipotent, good, and worthy of our adoration if He were indeed not able to respond resolutely and robustly to the problem of sin at the end of time? What does such a revisionist view of the nature of God and his judgment mean for the sanctuary doctrine and the biblical understanding of salvation? Tonstad seems to lean more toward a moral influence theory of salvation than a biblical substitutionary atonement. While the issue of human freedom is crucially important in the Bible and Jesus certainly helps us to correct human misunderstandings of God, Jesus was not just “sent in order to overcome human misperceptions of God—and with it the alienation and fear arising in the wake of such misperception” (p. 303), as Tonstadt proposes. Jesus also came to die in our place so that we can be reconciled with God.

These significant theological problems cast a dark shadow over a book that otherwise brims with fascinating ideas.