Sometimes the old story is the one we need to hear again and again.
For my entire life, I have longed to be loved, yet feared I am unloved.
I do not mean to suggest that my life has been nothing but misery. My life has been marked by love, from the parents who raised me, to the many friends and family who have supported me over the years, to the love of the God who first set his favor upon me. Yet, despite this, I have often felt unloved.
This feeling has various sources: the constant menace of a society that presents an ideal I cannot match, the genuine rejection I have experienced in word and deed, and the whispers of the devil who would hold me in chains. From such springs flow the river of my thoughts, churning and breaking, constantly troubled. The reality of love is overwhelmed by a tidal wave of doubt. I must cling to the rock of ages, which tells me always who I truly am.
This is the central conundrum at the heart of Elyse Fitzpatrick’s newest book, Unloved: The Rejected Saints God Calls Beloved. “Over the last fifty years, I have had far too many conversations with fellow believers that could be summed up in the question, ‘Am I loved?’,” Fitzpatrick writes. “The sad truth is that many Christians don’t know for sure” (pg. 9).
As people united to Christ, we belong to a God who is love. His affection for us is eternal and defines all our dealings with him. We are justified, united, beloved. But in this present age on earth, we are marked by experiences in which we have not been loved. The world declares us “unloved,” while God declares us “beloved.” Which voice will we heed?
We are what Fitzpatrick calls the “unloved beloved,” and as she explains in her book, the difference between feeling unloved or loved is the difference between law and gospel.
The Meritocracy
Fitzpatrick writes that, “We are people created for love,” and thus it is only natural that, “We want to be beloved” (pg. 12). However, we tend to assume that God’s love operates in the same way as human love. Americans often pride themselves on living in a meritocracy where success is gained in exchange for performance, and we project that notion onto God, hoping that if we follow his law perfectly, he will love us. This leads us to believe either that God must not love us or that he owes us earthly success in exchange for our obedience.
“Many have been taught that a relationship with God is reciprocal, like the one you have with your employer: you put in a good day’s work, and your employer responds by giving you a raise, or at least by not firing you. While this is true in the workaday world, it’s antithetical to God’s kingdom” (pg. 10).
Meritocracy is in Fitzpatrick’s crosshairs throughout the book. “No, a meritocracy isn’t good news for sinners,” she argues. “In fact, it’s terrifying” (pg. 17). While she acknowledges that “striving to be obedient is not wrong,” she observes, “for many of us, it leads to believing that God is obligated to bless us” (pg. 16). That can create a crisis of confidence when we experience suffering, or when we don’t feel that we are in God’s favor. “If these trials cause you to automatically go inward and begin questioning what you’ve done to disappoint God, you are living under the demands of a meritocracy” (pg. 16).
Meritocracy is another term for the law, but the gospel speaks a better word to us, telling us our sins are forgiven, the righteousness of Christ is credited to us, and we have the eternal favor of God. “Our relationship with God is based solely on the work of Jesus Christ,” Fitzpatrick assures us (pg. 20). To be justified before God is “to be completely forgiven and to be counted perfectly obedient” (pg. 17). Thus, if God judges in terms of merit, it is the merit of Christ standing in our stead. “So, maybe God’s kingdom really is a meritocracy after all: one where Jesus earned our merit and then died for our demerit” (pg. 17-18).
In Christ, we are completely, truly, eternally beloved. But as Christians, we live in the already and not yet. We must still struggle with the world, the flesh, and the devil on this earth, and they flood our ears with a different message. As sinner-saints in the here and now, we are unloved, but in the eyes of the eternal God, we are loved. Thus, Fitzpatrick calls us the unloved beloved, and she uses several biblical examples to demonstrate her point.
Much of the book is a consideration of the lives of Hosea and Gomer; Abraham, Sarah, and Hagar; the woman at the well; Tamar and Judah; Naomi, Ruth, and Boaz; and David and Bathsheba. In each case, she shows us how they were unloved by the world, either because their behavior was truly sinful, or because they were perceived to be sinful or forsaken by God. Then she demonstrates how they were subjects of God’s love, and how the word of the gospel presents us with a very different picture: these outcasts of the present age are the faithful saints of the world to come.
“It’s hard to fathom how the messages of ‘work hard,’ ‘do good,’ and ‘earn your way into God’s favor’ could claim to find their origin in the same book that records story after story of people of faith who endured endless suffering,” she writes. “And not only did many of them suffer, but many were also denigrated for their faith” (pgs. 133-134). Indeed, the very fact that they were imperfect, shamed, and rejected ought to encourage us, for it demonstrates God’s love for sinners and his ability to use them for his purposes:
These are our forefathers and mothers in the faith. And though it might seem like bad news, it is actually such good news for sinner-saints like us. In fact, it’s the best news we could ever receive, because it means that our standing with the Lord doesn’t depend on how well we do, how consistent our faith is, or how righteously we live. Everything depends on the grace of the Father, and the love of the Son, and the work of the Spirit. Nothing about salvation depends on you (pg. 143).
Clinging to Love
There is nothing truly groundbreaking in Unloved, because the message Fitzpatrick has for us is the same gospel that has resounded from the beginning. In fact, one passage reminded me of the late Rod Rosenbladt’s lecture, “The Gospel for Those Broken by the Church.” Fitzpatrick acknowledges, “Yes, the ex-vangelical/none movement is growing. But it isn’t because Jesus or the gospel message has let people down. It’s because our message has been the bad news of a meritocracy. And who would want that?” (pg. 30). Sometimes the old story is the one we need to hear again and again.
There have been several recent books calling us to rethink women in Scripture, such as Vindicating the Vixens: Revisiting Sexualized, Vilified, and Marginalized Women of the Bible, edited by Sandra L. Glahn. Fitzpatrick engages in similar work. Her lengthy assessment of Bathsheba’s culpability (or lack thereof) in her initial sexual encounter with David echoes constant social media debates of the past few years, and while it is no doubt a comfort to survivors of sexual abuse, it is perhaps incidental to Fitzpatrick’s overall argument that we are loved whether we commit a particular sin or not. But the examples are generally helpful and support the notion of gospel triumphing over law.
This is a more accessible volume than some academic works on the market. With discussion questions at the end of each chapter, it could be used by study groups or for personal reflection. Given how apt we are to return to the law and doubt that we are loved, we could use many reminders like this one offered by Elyse Fitzpatrick.
