Did Jesus Really Die For Your Sins?

A lot of us were taught that Paul’s gospel was about punishment transfer. But what if he was telling a much bigger story—one about union, not substitution?

“Even if you were the only person on earth, Jesus would have died just for you.”

“Every one of your sins drove the nails into his hands.”

“You deserved the cross. Jesus took your place.”

These are the kinds of things many of us heard growing up.

And for a while, they felt powerful. Personal. Urgent.

But they also carried a heavier message underneath:
That Jesus died instead of us to satisfy a wrathful God.
That sin demanded blood. That someone had to pay. And Jesus stepped in.

And oh—by the way—you’re the reason it happened.
Because you’re so sinful, so broken, that even an all-powerful, all-loving God apparently had no other option but to kill his own son.

That theology is called penal substitutionary atonement—and for many of us, it was presented as the gospel. Almost always using the words of Paul.

But… is that actually what Paul meant?

---

Paul Said “Jesus Died for Our Sins.”

Yes, Paul said it:

• “Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures.”

• “He became sin who knew no sin…”

• “He redeemed us by becoming a curse for us.”

But that doesn’t automatically mean “in our place” or “as punishment.”

The Greek word often translated for (hyper hēmōn) usually means:

“On behalf of,” “for the sake of,” or “to benefit.”

So was Paul describing a legal transaction—or something else?

---

Oh, And—What Did Paul Mean by “Sin”?

If you grew up evangelical, “sin” likely meant:

• Doing bad stuff

• Breaking moral rules

• Especially around sex, substances, and swearing

And you probably heard Romans 3:23:

“For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.”

Which got interpreted as:

“Everyone’s done something wrong, so everyone’s guilty, and someone has to pay.”

But in context, Paul’s making a much bigger point.

Romans 1–3 is about Jews and Gentiles—two groups arguing over who’s righteous.
Paul’s argument is:

• Gentiles have sinned

• Jews have sinned

• → Therefore, all have sinned

He’s not moralizing.

He’s equalizing.

This isn’t a catalog of your personal sins—it’s a theological sledgehammer breaking down the boundary between groups.

And his concept of sin? It’s not a list of personal infractions.
It’s a cosmic condition—a power we’re trapped in.
A fog. A fracture. A kind of death.

---

Paul’s Main Focus Was Union, Not Substitution

Paul’s deepest theme isn’t payment—it’s participation.

“I have been crucified with Christ…”
“We were buried with him…”
“It is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me…”

He’s not saying, “Jesus was punished so you don’t have to be.”
He’s saying, “Somehow, you died with him—and something new began.”

That’s not a courtroom transaction.

That’s mystic transformation.

---

So Where Did Penal Substitution Come From?

Not from Paul.

And not from Jesus.

It came much later:

• About a thousand years after Paul, Anselm reframed the cross as satisfying God’s honor.

• About fifteen hundred years after Paul, Calvin turned that into a legal drama: sin as crime, Jesus as substitute.

• And sometime around two thousand years after Paul, you were handed the remnants of that system—absorbing a gospel shaped by Anselm, Calvin, and a thousand other preachers who made it all about your personal, damnable sin.

---

Does the Bible Teach Penal Substitution?

A quick walk from Leviticus to Revelation

Leviticus (The Sacrificial System)

Yes, there were sacrifices. But they were about ritual purity, not punishment.

Even the Day of Atonement (Leviticus 16) used two goats:

• One was sacrificed

• One symbolically “carried” the people’s sins into the wilderness

It wasn’t about satisfying wrath. It was restoration through ritual.

---

Isaiah 53 (The Suffering Servant)

“He was pierced for our transgressions…”

But Isaiah also says, “we thought he was stricken by God”—implying that may have been our projection.

It’s poetic and complex, but it doesn’t clearly teach Penal Substitutionary Atonement. Though, I can see how you can get there if you want.

---

John’s Gospel (The Lamb of God)

Yes, Jesus is called the “Lamb of God”—but John’s Gospel was written decades after Paul, and it’s loaded with symbolic meaning.

The lamb isn’t being punished. It’s tied to Passover, liberation, and new beginnings—not divine wrath. It has to die, sure. But as punishment? Maybe not.

---

Hebrews (Once-for-All Sacrifice)

Hebrews uses temple imagery to show Jesus as both high priest and final offering.

But it’s not about punishment—it’s about ending the whole system of sacrifice.

---

Revelation (The Slain Lamb)

The lamb in Revelation conquers not through wrath, but through love and suffering.

It’s not legal theology. It’s apocalyptic poetry. A vision of hope, not payment.

---

So… Is It in the Bible?

Sacrifice? Yes.
Substitution? Sometimes.
Punishment? Rarely—if ever—and never as a fully formed doctrine.

As I’ve said before, you can make the Bible say almost anything if you try hard enough.

So if you’re looking for a system where God needs to sacrifice—let’s be honest, kill—someone perfect in order to forgive you for being imperfect?

Sure. With enough time, creativity, and theological duct tape, you can piece that together.

But in my opinion?
That’s just not much of a historical theme.
And it’s a pretty strange place to land if you're trying to call something “the gospel” of the historical Jesus—or of Paul.

---

So... What Do You Think, Joe?

Thanks for asking.

I don’t see Paul teaching penal substitution.
I see him trying to describe something mystical, transformational, and deeply personal.
Something that changed him—and could still change his readers.

But look, I could be wrong.

Plenty of smart, sincere people read Paul differently. And maybe they’re right.

But here’s what I’ve come to believe:

I no longer need the Bible—or Paul—to say what I already want to believe.
I try to understand what they were trying to say in context.
And if it conflicts with where I’ve landed, that’s okay.

As someone who’s reconstructed into some kind of post-modern, post-critical, mystic Christian, I care deeply about what Paul believed.
It matters to me. He deserves my full attention.

But in the end, this is my faith.
Not his.
Not Calvin’s.
Not Billy Graham’s.
Not the faith of whoever first walked me down the “Roman Road.”

And if you’re reading this, I wish for you the same thing:

Find your own faith—or lack thereof.
Learn from the past. Learn from anyone you can.
Learn from me, even.

But don’t give anyone the authority to decide what you believe.
Not Paul.
Not Calvin.
Not Billy Graham.
And—for the love of all that is good and holy—not me.

I’m just a guy in a coffee shop with a MacBook Air and some free time.

You’re you.

You are free to be you.

And maybe—just maybe—
You were destined to question your way back to who you’ve always been.