🧩 The Finnish Theologian Who Made Space for My Mystical Side
The missing piece that made my weird spiritual past make sense.
This is the sixth post in my series, “Grace Between the Lines”—a journey through the beautifully strange overlap between theology, mystical spirituality, and the books and ideas that have shaped me along the way.
If this series had a theological heart, this might be it. This is where the gap between my current Christian theology and my former life as a spiritual-but-not-religious wanderer finally makes sense. Where mystical longing finds solid ground in the flesh-and-blood reality of Jesus Christ. If you’ve ever felt torn between the freedom of spiritual exploration and the rootedness of Christian tradition—this one's for you.
In case you missed the previous posts in the series…
Intro - ✨ This Time, It’s Not a Comeback — It’s a Reconciliation
Post #1 - 📚 Did You Hear the One Where the Lutheran Pastor Walks Into the Metaphysics Aisle?
Post #2 - 📺 How a PBS Mystic Became My Spiritual Gateway Drug
Post #3 - 💔 When I Drifted
Post #4 - ✨ If Channeling Freaks You Out, Let’s Talk About Paul
Post #5 - 🔥 Is A Course in Miracles Heretical?
🧣 I Didn’t Expect Mysticism to Wear Wool
I first encountered Tuomo Mannermaa in seminary, somewhere between a Lutheran confessions course and a lukewarm coffee in the refectory of the Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago during my first year. I had been assigned his book Christ Present in Faith, and something about it felt different. I wasn’t sure what to expect from a Finnish theologian with a name that sounded like an obscure type of birch bark tea. But then he started talking about real union with Christ—like, actual ontological union—and I leaned in.
His theology blew me away. I already loved Lutheran theology for its honesty, its emphasis on grace as God’s initiating move, and its freedom from spiritual ladder-climbing. But this? This was something more. This wasn’t just "You’re forgiven." This was, "You’ve been mystically united with Christ… Now!" It wasn’t just about where you’ll end up when you die. It was about what’s happening in your very cells in this instant.
And then, as seminary tends to do, I was swept away. Theological speed dating, basically. Just when you’re really starting to connect, you’re moved along to the next systematic thinker. So Mannermaa sat on the shelf.
Until about a month ago, when I took a week off and let myself read whatever I wanted (yes, apparently this is what nerds do with their vacation time). I picked up a book about Mannermaa called Union with Christ: The New Finnish Interpretation of Luther by Robert Jenson and Carl Braaten—two theologians I trust. And suddenly, I was back in the deep end.
As I read, I kept thinking: This is speaking the same language as A Course in Miracles, only with more Jesus and fewer metaphysical detours. There was mystical resonance. There was deep Christological grounding. These two parts of my story—parts that I never thought would be joined—were coming together. And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like I had to hide or shelve one part of myself to hold the other.
🌀 Mysticism, Union, and the Big Theological Gap
When I was training as a New Thought minister, I often felt like Jesus was the elephant in the room. Mentioning him once or twice was fine, even poetic. But too much Jesus? That was a problem. And yet, the more I read—Rob Bell, Richard Rohr, Thomas Merton, Cynthia Bourgeault, and other expansive and contemplative Christian writers, the more Jesus seemed to be the heartbeat of the whole thing.
It became more and more apparent that Jesus wasn’t just a really nice guy or wise teacher on par with Brené Brown or Steve Jobs. He was the Word made flesh. A cosmic Christ who knew my name.
Eventually, I left New Thought ministry and wandered back through Catholicism before landing in the ELCA. But that meant I had to put all my woo-woo mystical stuff—especially ACIM—on the shelf. Seminary was already a stretch for someone with my spiritual résumé, and I didn’t need to give the candidacy committee another reason to raise their eyebrows.
I immersed myself in Law/Gospel theology. I studied the confessions. I learned to preach grace with grit. And I’m grateful for that season. But I also knew there was a whole chapter (or maybe a whole part) of my spiritual life that had been boxed up and taped shut.
Then I read Braaten and Jenson on Mannermaa.
Suddenly, it was like God lowered a drawbridge, pointed across it, and said, "Alrighty, kid... you’re ready now."
🔄 Theosis Without the Bypass
Mannermaa’s big idea was deceptively simple: faith unites us with Christ in a real, participatory way. Not just intellectually. Not just legally. But mystically, ontologically.
It’s not that we imitate Christ. It’s that we are drawn into him. United with him. Transformed by his life, death, and resurrection. Not just conceptually, but actually.
In New Thought circles, the goal is to think positive thoughts. (Because negative ones are said to manifest everything from flat tires to existential dread. I once accidentally manifested a parking ticket and a spiritual identity crisis in the same afternoon, but that’s neither here nor there.) There’s a time for that, no doubt. But this framework can make it hard to engage the messy, embodied reality of sin, suffering, and the crosses we all bear in life. Pain becomes something to mentally override instead of something to be met with presence, compassion, and grace.
Mannermaa doesn’t bypass. He doesn’t hand you a shortcut around pain. He leads you through it, right through the center, where Jesus meets us in our most human places. Where grace isn’t abstract; it’s enfleshed. It’s not pie-in-the-sky. It’s the center of gravity at the earthiest places.
This is theosis without the spiritual ladder. Not climb-to-God theology, but descend-with-Christ mystery.
🌿 Grounded Mysticism, Lutheran Roots
Reading Union with Christ, something clicked. I realized I didn’t have to choose between abstraction and doctrine. Between mysticism and orthodoxy. I could be a Lutheran pastor with mystery in my bones and Christ at the center—not floating above it all, but walking with people, questions and all, through the mud of it.
Mystical union is not a side quest… It’s the heart of the gospel.
Mannermaa helped me name the thing I was already feeling but didn’t have language for: that mystical union is not a side quest… It’s the heart of the gospel. And it’s not about escaping the world. It’s about being joined to the One who has already entered it all and called it beloved.
🔜 Up Next
Next week: I’ll share how I now read A Course in Miracles; not as someone looking for escape, but as a pastor who has found a home in traditional Christianity.
Still Along the Way,
Jonas
P.S. I’d love to hear your thoughts! What bridges have you found between mystical longing and theological grounding? (Paid subscribers get to join the comments and keep the conversation going. That’s where the good stuff happens. If you’d like to go deeper but can’t swing the price of a paid subscription, let me know and I’ll set you up, no questions asked.)