Sincerely, Your Spiritual Mentor

I have often longed for my own personal trainer, not so much for getting in better physical shape but for better understanding the whats and hows of Christian faith.

To some degree, such training is the aim of those like me, who teach theology in a formal setting. But we can only accomplish so much in a 15-week class period. Parents, too, are (hopefully) striving to train children in the faith without sounding overly preachy.

Whatever my own relative success or failure in either arena, I’m convinced that one of the best ways to pass on the faith is through extended conversation with a wise mentor.

In Letters to a Future Saint: Foundations of Faith for the Spiritually Hungry, theology professor Brad East turns to this model, offering a distinctive blend of theological instruction and spiritual mentorship.

East’s book offers 93 such letters, covering the whole of Christian doctrine, from the nature of the Trinity to the unfolding of the last things, while providing clear teaching on the Incarnation, Christ’s atonement, the church, sacraments, the Christian life, prayer, and more.

East’s intended audience is young Christians whose faith is sincere but relatively “untutored.” He addresses the recipient of his letters as “future saint,” drawing attention to the fact that, while we are saints right now, our full sainthood, or holiness, awaits the return of Christ.

East hopes his instruction will help prod us further down the path of sainthood. In short, his book seeks to catechize readers, not in a typical question-and-answer format but by giving brief, thoughtful explanations of central themes—and thorny issues—within Christian theology.

What, according to East, is Christianity all about? The answer, quite simply, is Christ. In these letters, that is more than a banal statement. In every section of the book, East makes it clear that being a Christian is about looking to Christ. It’s about gazing at the beauty of Christ that makes costly discipleship worth it. It’s about knowing and loving Christ, and being the people of Christ.

East writes in an ecumenical spirit, drawing from historic church tradition and seeking to articulate a brand of “mere Christianity.” He will ruffle some feathers here and there, perhaps, with his positive views on evolution, support for infant baptism, and regular talk of “saints.” His aim, however, is to present what most Christians can get onboard with.

Along the way, there are several theological gems that I will mention only in brief. First, in East’s discussion of the image of God, he supplements standard accounts of this doctrine by suggesting that the imago Dei is expressed as we live out of Christ’s threefold office of prophet, priest, and king. In this sense, the image of God shines brightest in the imitation of Christ, who is the image of God.

Second, East gives clear reasons for Christ’s ascension, that most neglected aspect of the Lord’s redemptive work. Christ ascends in order to (1) send the Spirit, (2) be glorified, and (3) continue his work as priest, among other things.

Third, East faces head-on a question many have asked: What’s the practical value of knowing the doctrine of the Trinity? His response can be summed up like this: The Trinity matters because God matters. If you want to know God, you must know the Trinity. Further, the Trinity matters because the gospel only makes sense (and is good news) if God is triune. No Trinity, no gospel. It doesn’t get more practical than that!

Importantly, East digs beneath these and other matters of theology to consider our broader “family history,” rooted in the relationship between the church and Israel. This is a complex relationship that invites perennial debate. But East is deliberate in linking the church’s identity to Abraham and Israel. “If you want to know God,” East counsels, “start here.” Or, more poignantly, “If you want to know God, you must know Christ. If you want to know Christ, you must know the Jews.”

Even one of East’s summaries of the gospel has Abraham and Israel at the center. If “you had to sum up the gospel with a single word,” he asks, “what would it be? My choice: adoption. Gentiles are adopted as Abraham’s children, and all people, gentiles and Jews both, are adopted as God’s children. To be adopted by one is to be adopted by the other.”

One more comment on the Israel-church relationship: East cautions against viewing Israel’s history as merely a history of failure. He argues, first, that “Israel’s history is like the history of every other people, because it is an altogether human history. It contains glories and triumphs alongside defeats and disasters.” On top of this, there are many examples of mighty faith in Israel’s history. These are the models we are encouraged to remember in Hebrews 11.

By remembering our solidarity with Israel, we can avoid viewing Israel as a botched experiment in holiness and the church as a merciful upgrade. “We must not say,” writes East, “that the Jews were God’s people and now (Christian) gentiles are God’s people. That involves a callous, in fact disastrous, revision of God’s story, his own word, his very heart.”

If Letters to a Future Saint were a typical theology primer, it would be difficult to accommodate some of the practical or existential questions East addresses so admirably. My favorite practical foray is his treatment of doubt.

He first describes our cultural moment: “Doubt is in vogue. It’s often held up as a kind of ideal. … I’ve heard more than a few ministers say that no Christian is a serious follower of Jesus until he or she has seriously doubted the truth of the gospel.”

To this, he responds pungently, “What a bunch of baloney.” He acknowledges what’s good about the pro-doubt impulse: the way it validates questions, creating space for disagreement in nonessential areas, and removes shame from Christians who ask them. East cautions, however, that while doubt is normal for Christians, it is not required for Christian maturity. For some it’s a “way station,” but it’s never a “landing spot.”

We are after faithfulness and maturity, not more questions. “Martyrs,” in East’s fine phrasing, “don’t die for a question mark.” Rather than valorizing doubt as such, East concludes with an invitation to “keep asking questions. Never stop. But ask questions in search of the truth.” 

Given the personal and introductory nature of the book, you might not expect to find nuanced discussions of tough theological and philosophical topics. Yet East does not shy away from these, even though the book is avowedly for newer believers.

One example is his treatment of how God creates through the agency of human “creators”—as in the case of human conception. He writes in a simultaneously theological and devotional key:

What we discover, when God works his will through us, is this. Far from a violation of our freedom or a coercion of our wills, we find ourselves more fully alive—happiest, freest, holiest. We are, by a great mystery, our truest and deepest selves. When we cling to our lives and our wills, we lose them. When we lose them in God, we receive them back in unlosable form.

This relates to how East addresses the difficult issue of moral responsibility in a fallen world. He shows that God has every right to hold us responsible for sins resulting largely from a sinful disposition we received from Adam. Just as a person genetically disposed to addiction and drunkenness is responsible for killing someone in a drunk driving accident, we remain responsible for our sins, despite inheriting the legacy of original sin.

As a theologian, I could nitpick about the strange flow of the book. It begins with a focus on discipleship, worship, and prayer, then proceeds to discuss Abraham and Israel before finally turning to particular doctrines. In fact, no formal treatment of the Trinity appears until the 52nd letter! 

If this were a standard theology textbook, that might be a point against it. But East’s placement is actually a touch of pastoral wisdom. In earlier parts of the book, he has assumed and, in many ways, waxed eloquent on the Trinitarian nature of Christianity. He pictures his readers having been baptized into the Trinitarian faith. They’ve come to know Jesus and received the Spirit, and they pray to the Father on that basis.

So, rather than beginning with Trinitarian puzzles to solve, he begins with our discipleship and our story (which is Israel’s story). Along the way, he’s developing a picture of God as creator, redeemer, and covenant partner. By the time we get to the Trinity, then, we have a deeply personal and experiential portrayal of God, one that prepares us to receive the picture of God in three persons as something other than a cold, mathematical formula.

This pastoral judgment brings us back to the question of theology’s form. In other words, what is the best way to teach theology and pass on the Christian faith? While East’s book may not answer that question decisively, it does demonstrate that sage letters are an effective and engaging option for training the next generation of saints. 

Uche Anizor is associate professor of theology at Biola University’s Talbot School of Theology. He is the author of Overcoming Apathy: Gospel Hope for Those Who Struggle to Care.

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