Marching for Allah (6): speaking into a Muslim world-view

[This is the final post in a series about a clash of rationalities: read parts 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5.]

This then is the goal of speaking to Muslims: to find ways to penetrate Muslim rationality with the rationality of the gospel. Many times Christians recoil at theological conversations with Muslims, because in every topic the Muslim evangelist seems to have the upper hand. We don’t talk about the trinity, because we can’t explain it. We don’t talk about the cross because it seems foolish. Many of us don’t talk much at all; hoping instead that our loving actions might win our Muslim friends. Perhaps. But I would suggest that talking is exactly what we need to do—and talking precisely about these difficult topics that best expose the difference in rationalities. This is because Muslims, like Christians, are who they are because of the way they think about God.

It has been widely assumed in missiological circles that the way we do theology will depend on our culture. But recently, theologians are starting to see that the reverse relationship is equally true: much of our culture depends on the way we think about God. Robert Letham discusses this idea in some length in Holy Trinity.¹ He argues, for example, that Islamic cultures tend towards social uniformity and political totalitarianism because that is the way Allah is. Political power in the Islamic world is shaped, as it is in the west, by understanding of divine power.

At the core of the Islamic idea of God is the doctrine of Tawhid: that God is one. Unlike the unity in the Christian doctrine of the trinity, Tawhid is complete singularity. There is no way to penetrate the “inside” of Allah: no way to understand god as he is in himself.  Allah is utterly transcendent, and utterly unknowable. What Muslims do claim to know, however, is the revealed will of Allah for us. Islam is not about knowing God, Islam is about knowing what God wants us to do, and then submitting. That is the meaning of the word Muslim. It is the human role to glorify, honour, obey, worship and praise Allah.

Since Allah is sovereign, glorious and transcendent, Allah must be seen this way in every sphere of life. In theology, the task becomes not wrestling and asking hard questions. There is no historical-critical enterprise examining the reliability of the Quran in Islamic theological schools. Rather, the theological task is submission and obedience—oriented to knowing the will of Allah for us. In politics, when a society’s basic account of reality is structured around submission to a supreme being, then the idea of democratic parties with multiple competing voices is always going to be a tough sell—a foreign imposition at best. So is a separation of church and state. In the sphere of personal relationships, the shame-based culture fits very well. It makes perfect sense to honour those who honour Allah. It makes utter sense to value relationship, nobility, and peace; living life contentedly in the place we were created to be. The idea of Dhimmitude also makes complete sense: that non-Muslims must be seen to besubject to Islam, Allah must be honoured by them also.¹ After all, Allah is sovereignly glorious over everyone. In all of life, from politics to family, from science to theology, Allah must be honoured. Allah must be seen to win.

Consider the difference that Christian theology makes—the Christian church in its better, more self consistent moments. Consider that the Father of Jesus Christ would humble his own son; that Christ would become man so that we might penetrate the unknowable God and discover the inner nature of the Father. This doesn’t just make a difference to our theology. We think about reality differently because of this. All of a sudden, true power is power to serve others self sacrificially: just as the Son of Man came not to be served, but to serve. True being is in relationship: existence for another, just as Christ loved us and gave himself for us. Consider how much changes when you see God not through the lens of glory, but through a theology of the cross. That God would be humbled and shamed in this way, cast into the despair of a grieving parent. What might it mean for our dialogue with Islam that God the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ doesn’t always have to be seen to win?

Christians must talk more, not less about these things with Muslims. We must get a solid handle on the doctrines of the trinity and atonement; and we mustn’t be afraid to speak of them with our Muslim friends. When we respond to events like yesterday’s protest march it not only matters that we say something, and not remain silent, but it matters just as much the way that we say it. The Islamic world has come to our doorstep, to our shame I might say (should we rather not have gone to theirs?) But with them they have bought a message of victory: that Allah will triumph, and that he suffers no rivals, that above all Allah must be honoured. Our response must not be Islamic. Even though Christians do need to speak, we don’t need to shout louder. We don’t need to insist that the whole world honour Christ with the dignity due to him.

A time will come for that; when every knee will bow, and every tongue will confess that Jesus is Lord to the glory of God the Father. That is something that God will do. For now, however, we might have to be prepared to lose, prepared to pick up our cross. We might have to acknowledge that there is in fact nothing rational we can say, but then say it nonetheless. Allah may have his day, while Christians continue to meekly proclaim a nonsensical trinitarian God, a dishonoured, crucified savior, while we love our enemies, and pray for those who persecute us. All of this is utter foolishness to them, but there is a hidden wisdom to it through which the Spirit of God might quietly work. We aren’t going to be able to boisterously commend a crucified God.

Christians suffer in this world, ask my Nigerian student. But more than that, suffering is a part of God’s plan for salvation. Satan has his day. The powers of this world overcame the Son of God, nailing him to the cross. Allah’s day is Friday. But it is only one day, and you can’t tell on Friday who wins. Allah may be honoured by all and Christ may be in the grave; but the true God doesn’t always need to appear victorious. The victor will only be known three days later. We live on that Saturday in between. We do not yet see all things subjected to Jesus. Rather we worship, proclaim and honour a crucified God, who bore our sin—and shame—in his own body on the tree. He did it to show us the inner heart of the God who suffers with us. He did it to win forgiveness for the meek and humble, and for those that hunger and thirst for a righteousness that they didn’t see in the placards of the protest march. If it is a message that is foolish, then so be it: we will be foolish. For vindication we must wait. But we wait with altered rationality; with a hidden wisdom. We wait with patience and eager expectation, for Sunday.