Category Archives: Gospels Studies

03/16/2026

On the Narrative Logic of John 21

The twentieth chapter of John’s Gospel is full of climactic moments. Not only does it record the resurrection of Jesus and his interaction with Mary in the garden, but it also tells the story of Jesus’s appearance to his disciples in the upper room (On the Johannine Pentecost) and the climactic confession of Thomas a week later. The chapter ends with a clear purpose statement when John writes, “Jesus performed many other signs in the presence of his disciples that are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name.” (20.30-31) To many, these verses sound like an appropriate conclusion to John’s Gospel; for this reason, many scholars (and some readers) treat John 21 as a kind of appendix or addendum or afterthought. Although there is no manuscript evidence to support this claim, it is often argued that if chapter 20 brings the Gospel to its climactic conclusion, then why would John write chapter 21? It seems unnecessary. From a narrative perspective, John 21 is not an awkward appendix but the necessary completion of the Gospel’s story. It resolves tensions left intentionally open in chapter 20 and brings the Gospel’s themes — discipleship, love, witness, and mission — to their proper conclusion.

As I noted above, John 20 is the clear climax of John’s Gospel. Jesus is resurrected, the disciples are commissioned, and Thomas confesses Jesus as “My Lord and my God.” (20.28) This confession serves as a kind of bookend in the book that points the reader back to John’s opening where he affirms that Jesus is the Word that was with God and was God and was made flesh and dwelt among us. (1.1, 14) Following these climactic moments, it only makes sense that John’s purpose statement in verses 30-31 would bring the Gospel to its logical conclusion. This chapter proves that Jesus is the Christ of God, and that faith in Him as the resurrected one results in eternal life. The end. Or so one would think. Not only is there no manuscript evidence that John’s Gospel should end in chapter 20 (as there is with Mark’s ending, on which see here), but if John were to end his gospel with chapter 20, then there would be many narrative threads that would remain unresolved. What becomes of Peter after his denial? What becomes of the beloved disciple? What becomes of the disciples’ mission? Yes, chapter 20 concludes the narrative arc of Jesus’s identity, but chapter 21 goes on to explain what that revelation now means for the followers of Jesus.

John 21 returns the reader to the Sea of Tiberias, aka the Sea of Galilee. Narratively, this is a return to where it all began. Not only did Jesus begin his public ministry in Galilee, but he also called the first four disciples after a night of fishing on the Sea of Galilee. The scene intentionally echoes the earlier calling narrative familiar from Luke 5. After a night of fruitless labor, Jesus shows up and tells them to cast their nets on the other side of the boat. They haul in a catch that is nearly too large, and Jesus commissions them to discipleship and mission. Many interpret this scene as a regression for the disciples, a return to the life and vocation before Christ. However, in light of this parallel, this scene should be understood not as a regression, but as narrative symmetry. John intentionally returns his readers to the beginning to show that the resurrection does not erase vocation — it redefines it. Vocation that is engaged apart from radical dependence on the risen Christ is utterly futile, but when vocation is entered into from a position of dependence and obedience to the risen Christ, then it is abundantly fruitful. When we submit our vocation to the mission of Jesus, then we will reap abundant fruit and reward. Even so, the real center of John 21 is not fish, it is Peter.

Of course, all four Gospels record Peter’s three denials of Jesus on the night of Jesus’s arrest, but John is the only one who records Peter’s restoration. (Luke hints at the idea when Jesus tells him that after returning, he will encourage his brothers.) John deliberately connects the scene in John 21 back to the denial scene by noting that Jesus prepared a “charcoal fire” and the threefold repetition of the question “Peter, do you love me?” matching Peter’s three denials. Some tend to make a big deal out of the various words that are used for love in Peter’s answers, but this is overplayed. Not only were the words basically synonymous in the first century, but the idea that Peter’s love did not rise to some divine standard is wholly alien to the logic of the text. This is a threefold public restoration that corresponds to Peter’s threefold public failure. Moreover, it reveals the pastoral tenderness of Jesus. Jesus does not scold Peter; he does not call him out over his failures. He doesn’t berate or condemn him. He graciously restores Peter to ecclesial service. “Feed my lambs. Shepherd my sheep. Feed my sheep.” This commission is not merely personal therapy for Peter; it is an ecclesial necessity. John cannot end his Gospel with Peter in unresolved failure. The shepherd of the disciple group must be restored if the flock is to endure. But Peter is not the only disciple in view here either.

After his restoration, Peter noticed the disciple whom Jesus loved and he asks Jesus, “Lord, what about him?”, and Jesus responds, “What is that to you? As for you, follow me.” (21.20-22) Jesus’s point is that he has different callings for each of his followers, and that following Christ is more important than comparing callings. Peter’s calling was to shepherding and martyrdom; the beloved disciple’s calling was to abiding ministry and public/written testimony. As he writes in 21.24, “This is the disciple who testifies to these things and who wrote them down. We know that his testimony is true.” Not only is this important for establishing the credibility and reliability of John’s Gospel, but it is also a fundamental component of John’s understanding of what it means to be a disciple of Jesus. To put it another way, John 21 grounds the authority of the Gospel in eyewitness testimony while clarifying that discipleship does not look identical for all. We all serve the risen Christ, but we all serve him in different and varied ways. These verses are not just random narrative details added on to the end of the story; they are essential for completing John’s theology of discipleship.

In other words, for John, discipleship is a life that is characterized by following Jesus, loving Jesus, abiding in Jesus, and witnessing to the truth about Jesus. When we confess Christ (chapter 20), he commissions us to a life of embodied mission (chapter 21). If we truly believe that Jesus is the risen Christ (and he is), then we will follow him in whatever calling he has placed on our lives. Put differently, discipleship is the vocation of following Jesus. The risen Christ is not merely to be believed in — he is to be followed. If we say we love Christ, we will commit ourselves to and give ourselves for the care of his people. Moreover, John hints at the fact that discipleship can involve suffering. In 21.18, Jesus tells Peter, “when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands and someone else will tie you and carry you where you don’t want to go.”, and John explains that “He said this to indicate by what kind of death Peter would glorify God.” (21.19) This is part of the vocation of discipleship, too. We must be willing to follow Jesus wherever he leads; this is the kind of discipleship that Jesus is calling us all too.

However, returning to my thesis, without John 21, Peter’s denial remains unresolved, the beloved disciple’s authority is unexplained, and the future of the community of Jesus followers is unclear. In terms of John’s narrative, John ends his gospel not with spectacle but with discipleship as vocation. Chapter 20 concludes the revelation of Jesus’s identity, and chapter 21 concludes the formation of Jesus’s community. Or to put it another way, John 20 answers the question “Who is Jesus?”, and John 21 answers the question “What now?” Without this pastoral and ecclesial resolution, John’s Gospel would be incomplete. John does not end his Gospel in private mystical belief. He ends it with shepherding, witness, martyrdom, and mission. And he leaves the end of the story open when he writes, “And there are also many other things that Jesus did, which, if every one of them were written down, I suppose not even the world itself could contain the books that would be written.” In other words, the story is ongoing, and all the things that the risen Jesus will do have not yet been completed even two thousand years later. John 21 is not a loose epilogue. It brings the Gospel to its proper end — not merely with a confession of Christ, but with the commissioning of those who will testify to him. The risen Lord restores the fallen, distinguishes callings, anchors testimony, and sends his followers into a future shaped by love and sacrifice. That is not an afterthought. That is narrative completion. And it poses the question to the reader, “Will you follow Jesus?”

Leave a comment | tags: Apostolic Witness, Beloved Disciple, Biblical Theology, Discipleship, Eyewitness Testimony, Gospel of John, Historical Jesus, Johannine Community, Johannine Theology, John 20, John 21, Mission of the Church, Narrative Theology, New Testament Studies, Peter in the Gospels, Peter's Denials, Phillip Powers, Restoration of Peter, Resurrection Appearances, Sea of Galilee, Shepherding Ministry | posted in Bible Exposition, Gospels Studies

03/09/2026

On the (Un)Importance of the Gospel of Thomas

By Phillip Powers

In my last post, I argued that the apocryphal Gospel of Thomas has little to no value when it comes to the study of the historical Jesus. However, ever since the Jesus Seminar published their book, The Five Gospels, it has become somewhat common among Jesus scholars to include Thomas as another source for Jesus studies. The Gospel of Thomas is a collection of 114 logia, or sayings, that are attributed to Jesus, most of which are enigmatic and/or aphoristic in style. For example, saying 7 reads, “Blessed is the lion which becomes man when consumed by man; and cursed is the man whom the lion consumes, and the lion becomes man.” Thomas was discovered in 1945 at Nag Hammadi among some 52 other documents, most of which are from the 4th century CE. While Thomas contains intriguing sayings, its late date, its wholesale dependence on the Synoptic tradition, and its Gnostic coloring render it of very little importance for reconstructing the historical Jesus. Its primary value lies in understanding early Christian Gnostic interpretation and theological creativity, not the life and teaching of Jesus of Nazareth.

As noted above, the Gospel of Thomas, sometimes referred to as the Secret Gospel of Thomas, contains some 114 independent sayings attributed to Jesus without any kind of narrative structure or frame. Although the complete text found at Nag Hammadi in 1945 is in Coptic and dates to the 4th century CE, it also exists in three Greek fragments previously found at Oxyrhynchus around the turn of the twentieth century that date to the mid-second century CE. Some scholars argue that the oral traditions behind these Greek texts may be earlier, but this is speculation that is not supported by any physical textual evidence. The biggest difference between Thomas and the canonical Gospels is that it is completely lacking in narrative details; it contains no geographic markers, no passion narrative, and no account of the resurrection. More often than not, it simply reworks material from the Synoptic tradition. In spite of these differences, its non-narrative, aphoristic style is perhaps part of its appeal, but it is also the reason for its interpretive challenges.

This is perhaps why many, both scholars and popular readers alike, find Thomas so intriguing. It is cryptic, wisdom-oriented, less overtly theological, and resembles Synoptic style. For many, especially those who are skeptical of the canonical accounts of Jesus, Thomas reflects a non-apocalyptic, secretive, purely ethical Jesus, which is more in keeping with modern sensibilities. For example, saying 98 reads, “The kingdom of the father is like a certain man who wanted to kill a powerful man. In his own house he drew his sword and stuck it into the wall in order to find out whether his hand could carry through. Then he slew the powerful man.” Or again, saying 77 reads, “It is I who am the light which is above them all. It is I who am the all. From me did the all come forth, and unto me did the all extend. Split a piece of wood, and I am there. Lift up the stone, and you will find me there.” According to the scholars of the Jesus Seminar, these sayings represent independent (read secret) traditions not found in the canonical Gospels. However, these claims often overlook Thomas‘s dependence on earlier Synoptic material and its interpretive framing.

Estimates vary, but roughly half of Thomas‘s 114 sayings have parallel, often more primitive, versions in the Synoptics. For example, saying 54 reads, “Blessed are the poor, for yours is the kingdom of heaven.” This is clearly a restatement of the beatitude found in Matthew 5.3 and its parallel in Luke 6.20. Saying 55 reads, “Whoever does not hate his father and his mother cannot become a disciple to me. And whoever does not hate his brothers and sisters and take up his cross in my way will not be worthy of me.” This is taken from Matthew 10.37-38 and its parallel in Luke14.26-27. Saying 65 is simply a retelling of the parable of the vineyard owner found in Matthew 21, Mark 12, and Luke 20; saying 57 is simply a retelling of the parable of the wheat and tares found in Matthew 13. Other examples could be cited, but the point is clear, namely that the author(s) of Thomas have simply reworked Synoptic material, typically drawn from the Sermon on the Mount or the Kingdom sayings/parables of Jesus. Moreover, the ordering and grouping of these sayings typically mimics that which is found in Matthew, Mark, and Luke. This evidence clearly demonstrates the secondary literary dependence of Thomas and mitigates against arguments that it preserves independent oral traditions. To put it another way, if Thomas is so clearly dependent, then it cannot be used as an independent historical source in the study of the historical Jesus.

Beyond its late date and its dependence on the Synoptic traditions, another reason Thomas holds no value for the study of Jesus is its clear Gnostic leanings. Gnosticism is a second century syncretistic heresy that combined elements of Christianity with Jewish mysticism and Greco-Roman philosophy. It is primarily characterized by its dualistic worldview, its emphasis on hidden knowledge (gnosis) and spiritual ascent, and its devaluation of material reality. The Gospel of Thomas, as well as most of the other documents found at Nag Hammadi, clearly fall into this stream of thought. For example, saying 62 reads, “It is to those who are worthy of my mysteries that I tell my mysteries.” Saying 24 reads, “There is light within a man of light, and he lights up the whole world. If he does not shine, he is darkness.” Or again, saying 108 reads, “He who will drink from my mouth will become like me. I myself shall become he, and the things that are hidden will be revealed to him.” Clearly, sayings from the canonical Gospels have been filtered through Thomas’s Gnostic framework. This theological overlay makes Thomas more a reflection of early heretical Christian thoughts than of Jesus’ own teaching. While Gnostic themes are historically interesting for understanding the history of the early church, they further limit Thomas’s usefulness for reconstructing the historical Jesus.

Methodologically speaking, for a source to contribute meaningfully to historical reconstruction, it must be anchored in some kind of narrative frame, some cultural or geographic context, some chronological markers by which its historical veracity can be evaluated. The Gospel of Thomas is clearly lacking in this regard. It does not contain any of the details of Jesus’s life, his public ministry in Galilee, his conflicts with the Jewish authorities, or his passion, death, and resurrection. Without any anchoring in actual historical events like these, a collection of sayings cannot be attributed to Jesus with any real confidence. Therefore, using Thomas as a primary source in the study of the historical Jesus risks reconstructing him as an abstract, decontextualized, disconnected figure. Or to put it another way, a Jesus disconnected from historical realities can become anything and everything, except who he truly was. The Gospel of Thomas is simply too late, too dependent, and too Gnostic to be of any value in the study of the historical Jesus. Of course, this does not mean that Thomas has no value at all. After all, the Gospel of Thomas gives us an open window into early Christian theological creativity within heretical movements. It highlights the role of wisdom and of spiritual and mystical orientations in the beliefs of the early church. And it gives us insight into how the teachings of the historical Jesus were received and interpreted by one particularly Gnostic tradition. However, whereas canonical sources like the Synoptics and Paul ground their theological reflections in the reality of historical events, Thomas abstracts wisdom and secret knowledge from reality. In this regard, then, Thomas illuminates early Christian imagination and hermeneutics rather than the life of Jesus of Nazareth.

In light of the above evidence, I can only conclude that because Thomas is derivative and shaped by Gnostic and Synoptic traditions, it cannot be used as an independent source to reconstruct the historical Jesus. Sound theological reflection must be grounded in the historical realities of the person and work of Jesus. Or to put it another way, history grounds theology, and theology interprets history. The two must remain interconnected in the theological task. To neglect one or the other would necessarily lead us into either hardened skepticism or wild theological speculation. While Thomas is a great source for understanding early Christian diversity, it simply should not be conflated with the life of Jesus of Nazareth. Thomas may open a window onto early Christian imagination, but the historical Jesus stands firmly in the Synoptic Gospels and the apostolic testimony of the New Testament.

Leave a comment | tags: Apocryphal Gospels, Ascension, Beatitudes, Canonical Gospels, Didymus, First Century CE, Fourth Century CE, Gnosticism, Gospel of Thomas, Heresy, Historical Jesus, History and Theology, jesus, Jesus of Nazareth, Jesus Seminar, Kingdom Sayings, Literary Dependence, Logia of Jesus, Nag Hammadi, Narrative Frame, Oxyrhynchus Papyri, Passion, Phillip Powers, Proto-Gnostiicism, Resurrection, Sayings of Jesus, Second Century CE, Sermon on the Mount, Synoptic Gospels, Synoptic Traditions, Thomas | posted in Gospels Studies, Historical Jesus

02/23/2026

On the Jesus of History and the Christ of Faith

By Phillip Powers

One of my favorite topics in the study of the New Testament is the historical Jesus; it is an area of study that attempts to understand Jesus as he was within the context of first century Judaism. However, many who study the historical Jesus argue that the Jesus of history (the first century Jewish teacher) is not the Christ of faith (the exalted Lord proclaimed by the church). In other words, the early church’s understanding of Jesus has been embellished and augmented by influences that go well beyond who Jesus actually was and what he taught. This presupposition is one of the the primary factors that originally inspired the now century old quest(s) for the historical Jesus. Of course, we must affirm that historical investigation is indispensable for understanding the person and work of Jesus, but the hard distinction between the Jesus of history and the Christ of faith collapses under the weight of the earliest evidence. The church’s confession of Christ emerges not as a departure from Jesus, but as the historically grounded interpretation of his life, death, and resurrection. In the space that follows, I would like to defend this thesis by examining why history matters, where the split came from, and why the evidence actually favors continuity and not discontinuity.

It would seem to be readily evident that the historical study of the New Testament is essential for understanding the Christian faith. This is because Christianity makes several direct and specific claims about real events that took place in historical space and time. So understanding these events and their historical and theological significance is a matter of first importance when it comes to understanding our faith. As a case in point, when the eternal Son came incarnate in the person of Jesus Christ, he stepped into a particular place at a particular time, the fullness of time according to Galatians 4.4. In other words, the doctrine of the incarnation requires some historical understanding of the place and time when Jesus was born. In fact, the Gospels themselves are anchored in the geography, personalities, and events of the first century Palestine. The point is that if Jesus is severed from the places and times in which he lived, then we run the risk of distorting the significance of his life and teaching. More than this, we run the risk of reshaping Jesus into a man of our making, as a some kind of modern therapist or social reform mascot. The bottom line is that the hard work of history disciplines our theology and grounds it in the life of our savior as he lived it. Or to put it more simply, to confess that the Word became flesh is to confess that history matters.

The point of this is to say that historical inquiry is not the enemy of faith. The problem comes when we presume to dictate what history is allowed to contain. During the Enlightenment of the 18th Century, philosophers and historians began to doubt the details of the New Testament’s depictions of Jesus. Because of their presuppositions about the supremacy of human reason in the pursuit of truth, they were highly skeptical of the Gospels’ accounts of Jesus’s miracles, particularly his resurrection. Their skepticism resulted in an approach to history that might be called methodological naturalism, or the idea that anything that even remotely smells like it might be supernatural must be ruled out as a theological fabrication. Ultimately, their dismissal of the miracles of Jesus, particularly his resurrection, led them to conclude that the church’s high Christology, or its understanding of Jesus as the divine Lord of heaven, must be a late addition to the New Testament that has nothing to do with who Jesus was and what he did and taught during his lifetime, a conclusion which had more to do with their own presuppositions than with any actual analysis of the evidence. The real question, however, is not whether the theology of the early church developed over time (it clearly did), but the question is whether that development moved away from Jesus or unfolded from within the impact of his life and resurrection. An examination of the earliest documents clearly demonstrates that this is in fact what happened.

Now, the earliest Christian documents are the 13 letters of Paul, which were likely written between the years 49 CE and 68 CE. (The earliest of these is most likely 1 Thessalonians, and the latest is 2 Timothy.) Important for this post is the fact that several of these letters include embedded hymns and creedal material that clearly exalt Jesus as the divine Lord. For example, in Philippians 2.6, he “existed in the form of God,” and in Colossians 1.15, “He is the image of the invisible God.” In 1 Corinthians 8.6, the Apostle writes, “for us there is one God, the Father. All things are from him, and we exist for him. And there is one Lord, Jesus Christ. All things are through him, and we exist through him.” This is clearly a reworking of the Shema (Deut 6.4) which equates Jesus with the God of Israel. Even outside of Paul, in Hebrews 1.3, Jesus is “the radiance of God’s glory and the exact expression of his nature, sustaining all things by his powerful word.” And in James 5.9 (possibly the earliest document in the New Testament), he is “the judge [who] stands at the door!” The point of all this is to show that the church’s so called “high Christology” developed very early in the life of the church, and that within the context of strict Jewish monotheism. And so the question must be asked, “How did first century Jews come to worship Jesus as God so quickly?” The only possible answer is that the seeds of this belief were already present in the life and ministry of Jesus.

Of course, Jesus never articulated his identity in the language of the Nicaean Creed, but he clearly acted with divine authority. When the Pharisees ask, “Who can forgive sins but God alone?” Jesus says to the paralytic, “Son, your sins are forgiven. Get up, take your mat, and go home.” (Mark 2.1-12) When his disciples were rebuked for picking heads of grain on the sabbath, he responded, “For the Son of Man is Lord of the Sabbath.” (Matthew 12.1-8) He calmed the storms, he healed the sick, he cast out demons, he raised the dead. He equated his body with the temple, and he proclaimed a Kingdom of God that centered on his own person and work. And when the High Priest asked him if he was indeed the Christ, he responded, ““I am, and you will see the Son of Man seated at the right hand of Power and coming with the clouds of heaven,” to which the High Priest responded by accusing him of blasphemy. (Mark 14.61-64) As a side note, the title Son of Man is most likely taken from Daniel 7, where Daniel sees “one like a son of Man” approaching the Ancient of Days to be vindicated and enthroned as king. The identity of this “one like a Son of Man” is debated, but it is highly likely that Daniel understood him as (quasi) divine figure. The point is that Jesus made several extraordinarily “high” claims about himself, claims that clearly threatened the Jerusalem religious establishment and eventually got him killed.

Moreover, the church did not invent these categories out of thin air; rather, it interpreted the shock of Jesus’ life and resurrection within the context and storyline of Israel’s Scriptures. And for them, the resurrection was the decisive interpretive key. The historical plausibility of the resurrection is practically certain given the cumulative effect of the evidence. The earliest confessions assume the truth of the resurrection (1 Cor 15.3-8). The earliest disciples went from fearing for their lives in the upper room to boldly proclaiming the truth of the resurrection in the temple square. The first witnesses of the resurrection were a couple of women whose testimony would have been viewed as untrustworthy in their day. All eleven of the disciples went to their deaths preaching Christ as risen from the dead, and the apostle Paul went from hateful persecutor of Christians to the most effective preacher and missionary in the early church. In other words, the resurrection was a central component of the early church’s belief, and its exalted understanding of Jesus flows naturally from this belief. If Christ was truly raised from the dead, then he truly was who he said he was, i.e. “the Christ, the Son of the living God.” The point is that the Christ of the church’s faith is what the Jesus of history looks like after Easter. Without the resurrection, a hard divide makes sense, but with the resurrection, the continuity between the two becomes inherently plausible. Or to put it another way, the resurrection is not some theological embroidery added to the story of the historical Jesus. No, it is the primary engine of the early church’s “high” Christology.

The bottom of line is simply this, namely that the hard division between historical events and their theological significance is a false dichotomy. There simply is no such thing as uninterpreted history; all historical events are immediately interpreted. The moment something happens, it is interpreted. The question, then, is not whether theology exists, but whether it faithfully corresponds to what actually occurred. In other words, theology is not the corruption of history; it is reflection upon it. And when it comes the person and work of Jesus, the Gospel accounts are just historical testimony that has been shaped by conviction. The faith of the early church was an organic and continuous development that grew out of the life and teaching of the historical Jesus, and the earliest confessions of Christ are best understood as historically grounded worship. If we separate the Jesus of history from the Christ of faith, the our faith becomes mere myth layered on memory. Jesus came incarnate at a particular time in a concrete place, and he was resurrected and he ascended to be seated at the right hand of the Father. And this is why both the history of Jesus and the faith of the early church matter. The one worshiped in the church is not a theological invention layered upon a forgotten Galilean. He is the crucified and risen Jesus of Nazareth. There is theological development, yes. There is interpretation, certainly. But there is no canyon between the Jesus who walked the hills of Galilee and the Christ that the church confesses as Lord. There is continuity — deep, historical, and theologically unavoidable continuity between the Jesus of history and the Christ of faith.

Leave a comment | tags: Christ of Faith, Christian Origins, Continuity, Discontinuity, Early Church, Enlightenment, Faith, First Century Judaism, Fullness of Time, Hebrews, High Christology, Historical Jesus, History, Incarnation, James, Jesus Christ, Jesus of History, John, Luke, Mark, Matthew, Paul, Phillip Powers, Quest of the Historical Jesus, Resurrection, Son of Man, Theology | posted in Gospels Studies, Historical Jesus

02/17/2026

On the Johannine Pentecost

By Phillip Powers

In John 20.19-23, Jesus appears in the upper room on the eve of his resurrection, and he breathes on the disciples saying, “Receive the Holy Spirit.” This is the so-called Johannine Pentecost, and at a glance, it would seem to contradict the very clear teaching of the book of Acts that the Spirit was given on the Day of Pentecost some 50 days after Jesus’s resurrection. If the events of that first Pentecost are understood as the climactic coming of the Spirit to indwell the followers of Christ, then Jesus’ giving of the Spirit in John 20.22 would seem to indicate that John (who was present at Pentecost) was hopelessly confused about the timeline. In the space the follows, I would like to suggest that John is not confused; rather, I think that John 20 presents Jesus’ giving of the Spirit as the breath of the new creation in fulfillment of Ezekiel’s restoration promises and in turn, it grounds the church’s corporate authority to forgive in the life of the risen Christ.

Of course, scholars and pastors have tried to resolve this tension in a variety of ways throughout the history of the church, and here I will identify just four. First, some suggest that the giving of the Spirit in John 20 is a kind of proleptic gift, a partial filling, that was meant to steel the disciples until the climactic coming of the Spirit 50 days later. Others suggest that John has theologized the giving of the Spirit by temporally relocating the event to the resurrection and directly connecting it with the risen Christ in light of his own “realized eschatology”. Still others suggest that John 20 functions as a kind of apostolic commission for the disciples which establishes their role as authoritative leaders in the early church. Finally, and this is my view, but the giving of the Spirit in John 20 should be understood as the inauguration of the age of the New Covenant/New Creation. This is not in contradiction to the Book of Acts and its descriptions of the Day of Pentecost. Rather, John has compressed these events theologically by linking the resurrection of Jesus with the concept of new creation, the giving of the Spirit, and the inauguration of eschatological life. He does this by alluding to the creation account in Genesis 1-2 and the New Covenant/Resurrection account in Ezekiel 36-37.

In John 20, the scene opens “On the first day of the week” (20.1), and this temporal note is repeated in our passage in 20.19, “when it was evening on the first day of the week.” This is a clear allusion to the first day of creation in Genesis 1. In other words, with the resurrection of Jesus comes a new first day, a new creation. This allusion is further confirmed by the fact that the scene takes place in a garden (19.31), and Mary mistakes the risen Christ for the “gardener” (20. 15). This is most likely a typological allusion to Christ as the second Adam. More significantly, we are told that Jesus “breathed on them.” The Greek word here (ἐνεφύσησεν ) is a verb that only occurs here in the New Testament. In the Greek translation of the Old Testament (LXX), in Genesis 2.7, we read that “The the Lord God formed the man out of the dust from the ground and breathed the breath of life into his nostrils, and the man became a living being.” In the same way (and with same word) that God breathed life into Adam, so also the risen Christ breathes life into his disciples. This is not just incidental language; the Evangelist has utilized this rare word intentionally, because he wants to connect the resurrection of Jesus with the new creation. When Jesus breathes the Holy Spirit on the disciples, they become participants in a new humanity.

However, there is another important Old Testament allusion that stands in the background of John 20, and that is the description of the New Covenant and the story of the Dry Bones in Ezekiel 36-37. In Ezekiel 36.26-27 (also 37.14), we read,

I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you; I will remove your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. I will place my Spirit within you and cause you to follow my statutes and carefully observe my ordinances.

And in Ezekiel 37.1-14, we read where Ezekiel is commanded to prophesy to the breath to “come from the four winds and breath (ἐμφύσησον) into these slain so that they may live.” In the same way that Ezekiel stood in the midst of the valley of dry bones and the dead came to life by the “breath/Spirit” of God, so also the risen Christ stands in the midst of his disciples who are “dead/paralyzed” in fear, and breathes into them the Spirit of life. Now, in the book of Ezekiel, these chapters drip with corporate overtones, particularly in regard to the restoration of the people of Israel. The dry bones coming to life is a symbol of national (and individual) resurrection and restoration, and the Johannine Pentecost symbolizes the eschatological restoration of the people of God, such that the 12 (or 11) disciples function as the nucleus of that people as a renewed Israel. The point is that John portrays the resurrection of Jesus as the moment when the promised Spirit of restoration becomes reality.

Now, it is important here that we stop and recall what John has already said back in John 7. 39, where we read, “Those who believed in Jesus were going to receive the Spirit, for the Spirit had not yet been given because Jesus had not yet been glorified.” This is the heart of John’s theology, namely that the glorification/exaltation of Christ comes in the crucifixion/resurrection of Jesus. We know this because, Jesus said in John 12:32, “As for me, if I am lifted up from the earth I will draw all people to myself.” He said this to indicate what kind of death he was about to die.” The verbal idea of being “lifted up” refers both to the kind of death he would die but also to the idea of exaltation. Point being that in John 20, Jesus has now been glorified and so the Spirit can now be given as a sign of eschatological life.

However, there is one more problem in this passage. In verse 23, we read where Jesus tells the disciples, “If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.” Of course, this language also occurs in the Gospel of Matthew, in Matthew 16:19 in Jesus words to Peter and then again in 18:18 in the context of the Community Discourse. Clearly, this is the language of commissioning and authority, but exactly what kind of authority is in view here is debated. Some (particularly in the Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox traditions) understand these words to signify Apostolic/priestly authority to absolve sins. Others understand them to describe the authority of the church to announce the promise of forgiveness on the basis of the gospel. In my view, in the context of John 20, these words demonstrate that the Spirit-empowered community participates in the eschatological sorting of humanity. Forgiveness is determined by a person’s acceptance or rejection of the person and work of the Son (cf. John 3:18-21), but the church’s authority to forgive is part of its new-creation governance. In other words, just as the first humans were given dominion in the Garden of Eden (Genesis 1:28), so also the church as a new humanity is given Spirit-authorized responsibility as an agent of new-creation reconciliation. And John is clear that this authority is derivative, not autonomous; it flows from the risen Christ’s life and breath (i.e. Spirit).

In conclusion, then we must conclude that the Johannine Pentecost is not simply the relocation of the events of Acts 2; these are distinct narrative events serving distinct theological purposes. Whereas Acts emphasizes the public outpouring of the Spirit, the gift of tongues, and the church’s mission to the nations, John emphasizes the new creation, the restoration of the people of God, and ecclesial authority and identity. To put it more simply, John narrates the ontological beginning of the New Covenant age, and Luke narrates the Spirit-empowered expansion of the church’s mission. There is no contradiction; these are simply two theological angles on one redemptive reality. By tying his narrative to Genesis and Ezekiel, John gives us a theologically robust understanding of the significance of Christ’s resurrection. More importantly though, John 20.19-23 clearly demonstrates that the church exists because the risen Christ breathes his life into it. Its life is cruciform and Spirit-dependent, and its mission is one of reconciliation in the power of the new creation.

1 Comment | tags: Acts 2, Binding, Church Life, Creation, Crucifixion/Resurrection, Disciples, Ecclesiollogy, Exaltation, Ezekiel, Forgiveness, Genesis, Genesis 1-2, Giving of the Spirit, Glorifcation, Holy Spirit, Intertextuality, Israel, Jesus Christ, Johannine Pentecost, Johannine Theology, John 20, Loosing, New Covenant, New Creation, Pentecost, Phillip Powers, Resurrection, Second Adam, The Book of Acts, The Gospel of John, Valley of Dry Bones | posted in Bible Exposition, Biblical Theology, Gospels Studies

02/11/2026

On the Red Letters and the Authentic Words of Jesus

By Phillip Powers

Most English versions of the Bible print the words of Jesus in the Gospels in red letters. It is a tradition that goes back nearly a century. The first red-letter New Testament was published in 1899; the full Bible with a red-letter New Testament was printed two years later in 1901. The reason for this practice is relatively clear, namely to highlight the words of Jesus over against the surrounding narrative and commentary. As noble as this aim is, it can lead to some unhealthy conclusions and applications. Readers might be tempted to conclude that the red letters are more important, more valuable, and more primary than the rest of the New Testament. For example, some so-called “red letter Christians” pit the words of Jesus against the rest of the New Testament and purport to follow the social ethic of Jesus which is characterized by love and compassion rather than the more conservative theology and ethics of the Apostle Paul et al. However, if Jesus is fully God, and there is only one God, and if God inspired the whole Bible, then in a sense all of the words of the Bible, whether black or red, are the words of Jesus.

Of course, this does not mean that the actual content of Jesus’s teaching ministry is unimportant. When it comes to the quest of the historical Jesus, the details of what Jesus said and did are essential for understanding who Jesus was and what he came to do. This is why scholars of the historical Jesus developed criteria of authenticity to determine which sayings in the canonical gospels authentically come from Jesus and which ones do not. Criteria like multiple attestation, dissimilarity, coherence, embarrassment and others like these are used to decide the authenticity of each individual saying or pericope. However, more often than not, these criteria have been used to dismiss more sayings than they have proven. This is most evident in work of the Jesus Seminar and their book The Five Gospels: What did Jesus Really Say? The Search for the Authentic Words of Jesus. Instead of establishing the authentic words of Jesus, they dismissed some 82 % of the sayings attributed to Jesus in the canonical Gospels either as things he definitely did not say (black bead) or as things he did not say but that might be close to his ideas (grey bead). Even sayings that met the established criteria were dismissed as inauthentic. This proves that there was probably another criteria at play in their judgment, that being if a saying evinced a relatively high Christology, then it was not authentic in their view.

More to the point, in my recent book review of Jesus and His Promised Second Coming by Tucker S. Ferda (see here), I suggested that the search for the “authentic” sayings of the historical Jesus in the gospels is a fundamentally flawed endeavor from the outset. This is because the Gospel writers did not set out to record the words of Jesus verbatim (ipsissima verba). They did, however, attempt to convey the words of Jesus by way of summary, thematic arrangement, implication, and interpretation. In other words, they were conveying the essential substance of the words of Jesus as well as it theological significance (ipsissima vox or substantia verba). This is partly because the Gospels are based on traditions that were passed down orally from the time of Jesus until the time the Gospels were composed. Even if the composition of the Gospels is dated early, i.e. in the 40s or 50s CE, then we are talking about 10+ years that have passed from the time Jesus to the time when the sayings of Jesus were written down. The point is that if “authentic” is understood to mean the actual words that Jesus spoke verbatim as he spoke to them, then we are searching for something that will never be found.

On the other hand, we must affirm that the Gospel writers were not simply making things up as they went along, putting words into the mouth of Jesus that he never said or thought. This is sometimes compared to the children’s game of “telephone”, where the first child hears a sentence, and then passes it along to the next child by whispering in their ear, and on to the next and so on. More often than not, when the final child reports the sentence, the final version is a far cry from the original, and usually so horribly garbled as to be beyond recognition. This analogy is a caricature of the actual nature of oral transmission. Not only was the culture at the time of Jesus thoroughly oral, but the Jews in particular took the transmission of oral tradition highly seriously. The Old Testament scriptures commanded them to pass on their faith orally from generation to generation, and Jewish children were trained in this from an early age in the temple and synagogues. The faithful transmission of oral tradition was practically sacrosanct in Jewish culture, and given the recognized authority of Jesus as a rabbi, the gospels writers would never have thought to put their own thoughts and agendas into his mouth. The same could be said for so-called prophetic utterances given by the risen Jesus; these would never have been treated as on par with actual Jesus tradition. As Luke himself indicates in the opening of his Gospel (1:1-4), the Gospel writers were faithfully writing down that which they had also remembered and received.

Now, someone might object, “What about the doctrine of inspiration? Weren’t the Gospel writers inspired by the Holy Spirit and so kept from error?” And I would answer, “Yes! Of course they were!” (2 Tim 3:16-17). But inspiration is not dictation. The Gospel writers were not mindless automatons simply transcribing by rote. Here again, Luke’s introduction indicates that he had done his research, had talked to eyewitnesses, had done the hard work “to write carefully and in order.” In other words, inspiration does not negate the normal processes of research and writing. In inspiration, the Holy Spirit works in, with, and through the human author in such a way that their words are his words. Moreover, the method of inspiration varies according to the genre of the literature being inspired. Clearly, prophetic texts, “thus saith the Lord” were directly inspired speech, but historical narrative, epistles, et al. allow for the creative engagement of the human author with the work of the Holy Spirit. B. B. Warfield puts it this way in The Inspiration and Authority of the Bible,

The Scriptures, in other words, are conceived by the writers of the New Testament as through and through God’s book, in every part expressive of His mind, given through men after a fashion which does no violence to their nature as men, and constitutes the book also men’s book as well as God’s, in every part expressive of the mind of its human authors.

The point of all this is to say that the Gospel writers have faithfully conveyed to us the real and true words of Jesus even if they have not conveyed to us his exact words. So, we should not take individual sayings (or even whole pericopes) out of their narrative context and then dismiss them as wholly inauthentic. This is a fundamentally flawed method of historical and exegetical inquiry. Rather we should attempt to understand how the words and actions of Jesus fit within the context of first century Judaism and how they gave rise to the theology and practice of the early church. As to whether we should continue to print the words of Jesus is red letters, I am of mixed opinion. Further, I suspect that my views on the question will do nothing to unseat standard publishing practice. Nevertheless, we must understand that there is no portion of Holy Scripture that is more authoritative, more valuable, more transformative than any other. Whether we are dealing with the letters of Paul or with the words of Jesus in the Gospels, we are dealing with the Word of God, and it is He who is speaking to us when we read. And so we should ask the Lord to give us the ears to hear and the hearts to receive what the Spirit is saying to us.

Leave a comment | tags: Authenticity, bible, Canonical Gospels, Criteria of Authenticity, Gospel of Luke, Historical Jesus, Holy Bible, Holy Scripture, Holy Spirit, Inauthenticity, Inspiration, ipsissima verba, ipsissima vox, jesus, Jesus Christ, Jesus Seminar, Jesus Tradition, Luke, Oral Transmission, Phillip Powers, Red Letter Christians, Red Letters, Sayings of Jesus, substantia verba, Synoptic Gospels, Synoptic Problem, The Five Gospels, Verbal Plenary Inspiration, Words of Jesus | posted in Gospels Studies, Historical Jesus

02/06/2026

On Jesus and His Promised Second Coming: A Book Review

By Phillip Powers

Ferda, Tucker S. Jesus and His Promised Second Coming: Jewish Eschatology and Christian Origins. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2024.

One of the convictions that has Christians now for 2000 years is the expectation that Jesus will come again at the end of history to judge the living and the dead and to establish his kingdom on earth. This “blessed hope” (Titus 2:13) has been the confession of followers of Jesus from the very beginning of Christian history, as evidenced in the Apostle’s Creed. The problem is that this belief has somewhat of an embarrassment in the study of the historical Jesus. In other words, if Jesus truly believed that he would come again in the lifetime of “this generation” (Matthew 16:28, et al.), then either he made a simple mistake in his calculations or he was horribly deluded as to his understanding of himself and his role in the final consummation of all things. Scholars have typically followed two approaches in order to alleviate this embarrassment. On the one hand, there is a widespread consensus among critical scholars that the second coming is a belief that was created by the first followers of Jesus, and it does not go back to the historical Jesus. On the other, a large number of “evangelical” scholars have reinterpreted the coming of Jesus metaphorically/symbolically as a coming in judgment and have applied it to the destruction of Jerusalem in 70 AD.

In his most recent book, Jesus and His Promised Second Coming: Jewish Eschatology and Christian Origins, Tucker S. Ferda (Errett M. Grable Associate Professor of New Testament Exegesis and Early Christianity at Pittsburgh Theological Seminary) challenges both of these approaches by arguing that the second coming hope goes back to the historical Jesus. He advances this argument in four parts. In the first section, he considers questions related to historical and interpretive method, and he critiques certain “atomistic” approaches that attempt to sift through the Gospels in order to find the authentic sayings of Jesus and then then from them try to construct the beliefs of Jesus. In Ferda’s view, this methodological approach has it completely backward. Instead, he suggests that we should start with the beliefs of the early church as they are presented in the New Testament documents and then attempt to construct a plausible scenario that how these beliefs came to be. In the second section, Ferda considers the history of scholarship on the question of the Second Coming, and he identifies certain presuppositions and biases that have contributed to the current state of affairs. Particularly, he suggests that certain elitist and antisemitic tendences among scholars have caused them to want to distance Jesus from “outlandish” apocalyptic beliefs of Second Temple Judaism. In the third section, in keeping with the method that he outlined in section one, Ferda surveys the Gospels and and writings of Paul to demonstrate the widespread and ubiquitous belief in the Second Coming that characterized the early church, and finally, in section four, he offers a historical reconstruction of the Sitz im Leben Jesu (the life and ministry context of Jesus) which he believes explains the Second Coming beliefs of the early church and how they arose from the teaching and beliefs of the historical Jesus.

In the space that remains, I would simply like to identify two strengths and two weaknesses that stand out in Ferda’s work. First, Ferda’s critique of certain “atomistic” approaches to the study of the historical Jesus is spot on. So many reconstructions of the historical Jesus have relied on application of the so-called criterion of (in)authenticity to the saying of Jesus. In this approach, scholars utilize criteria like dissimilarity, multiple attestation, embarrassment, et al., to identify which sayings of Jesus in the Gospels are authentic . However, in practice, these criteria have led to the dismissal of more sayings of Jesus than they have authenticated. Moreover, this approach simply does not appreciate the what the Gospels actually are. They are not verbatim recordings of the teaching of Jesus; the Gospel writers were not attempting to record and convey the ipsissima verba (the very words) of Jesus. Given the literary and historical nature of Gospels, it is much more likely that they convey the ipsissima vox (the very voice) or the substantia verba (the substance of the words) of Jesus. So, the search for “authentic” sayings of the historical Jesus is a fundamentally flawed endeavor to begin with; it is not possible. Ferda’s alternative approach accounts for this by treating the Gospels as theological/interpretive history, and moving backward from how the church understood and interpreted Jesus to what Jesus likely understood and believed. In other words, it attempts to explain how the beliefs and expectations of the historical Jesus fit both within the context of Second Temple Judaism and how they give rise to the beliefs and hopes of the early church.

The second strength in Ferda’s argument has to do with his thorough and nuanced handling of messianic expectations in the Second Temple period. It is widely recognized that expectations for who the Messiah would be and what he would do were quite diverse during the time of Jesus. Of course, the liberation and restoration of Israel was foundational for these hopes, but expectations for how this would be accomplished were far from uniform. However, it seems relatively clear that book of Daniel played a primary role in the formulation of these expectations, and especially so for Jesus and his understanding of himself as the Son of Man. In his analysis of these expectations, Ferda clearly demonstrates the plausibility of Jesus’ belief in his own Second Coming. Moreover, he clarifies how notions of imminence and delay fit together in these scenarios. He writes, “It is also important to note that messianic hopes, varied though they were, frequently envisioned some kind of process of inauguration, whereby the coming of a messianic figure is climactic but does not necessarily change history instantaneously.” (390) The point is that the idea of imminence need not be equated with immediacy, and it need not preclude the idea Jesus expected an interim period between his death/resurrection and his coming in glory and power. Not only is this tension between imminence and interim present in the expectations of Second Temple Judaism, it is highly likely that it was a characteristic component of the eschatological expectations of the historical Jesus.

Overall, I think Ferda has made a strong and persuasive case for the idea that the Second Coming hope goes back to Jesus himself. Of course, this does not mean that I agree with every detail of his argument, and here I will identify two that stand out. First. while he is right to reject approaches that attempt to sift the Gospels for authentic sayings of Jesus, from time to time he still dismisses sayings that he considers clearly inauthentic. For example, he writes, “The threefold passion and resurrection predictions are highly suspect as they conveniently predict what exactly took place in Jerusalem (Mark 8.31, 9.30-32, 10.32-34, and parr.).” (327) In other words, because Jesus predicts the exact events that will unfold as to his death/resurrection, these predictions cannot be authentic sayings of the historical Jesus. This is a dismissive statement that reads more like a bias than an evidence based conclusion. Moreover, he goes on to argue that it is entirely plausible that Jesus had considered the possibility of his own death and that he likely expected to die in Jerusalem. Setting aside the question of Jesus’s understanding of his resurrection, it is not clear why Jesus could expect to die but not predict that he would be killed. Moreover, as noted above, the decision on whether a saying is authentic or inauthentic is at best not helpful and at worst irrelevant.

Secondly, as I noted above, Ferda makes a convincing case that Jesus’s understanding of imminence need not entail that the kingdom would come and that the would return within his own lifetime, especially since it is clear that he expected that he would die (rise again, and ascend). It is a truism to say that the proclamation of Jesus was characterized by the notion of imminence. However, how the notion of imminence should be understood is widely debated. Even though Ferda acknowledges the presence of a delay in Jesus’s expectations, he attempts to salvage the idea of imminence by limiting it to “this generation”, meaning that Jesus expected that he would come back within the lifetimes of his audience or a timespan of approximately 40 years. This is based on statements like the one found in Matthew 16:28, which says, “Truly I tell you, there are some standing here who will not taste death until they see the Son of Man coming in his kingdom,” or Matthew 24.34, “Truly I tell you, this generation will certainly not pass away until all these things take place.” These verses, and their parallels, are widely debated. Moreover, if Ferda’s interpretation is correct, then it is not clear how this saves Jesus from error. If he believed that he would come back within 40 years, and he clearly did not, then he was still wrong about his understanding of his coming. This is a fundamental question. Ferda doesn’t acknowledge the implications of his statements in this regard, nor does he attempt to resolve this tension. (See how I have attempted to address this problem, here.)

In the final analysis, we need not be ashamed to confess that “He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead and his kingdom will have no end.” (Nicene Creed). This is our blessed hope, and to deny this in any way is to countenance heresy. It simply will not do to explain it away as a creation of the early church, and it will not do to reinterpret it as a metaphor or symbol. Jesus is coming again, visibly, bodily, in glory and power, to establish his kingdom on earth, to vindicate his people, and to defeat sin once and for all. Tucker S. Ferda has effectively demonstrated the plausibility that the church’s belief goes back to Jesus himself. Of course, he has not answered every question, and there is still more work to be done in terms of understanding the eschatology of the historical Jesus and how it is presented in Gospels particularly but also in the rest of the New Testament. But even if every question cannot be answered or every detail explained, followers of Jesus can boldly proclaim, “Amen! Come, Lord Jesus!”

1 Comment | tags: Apocalyptic Eschatology, Christianity, Criteria of Authenticity, Daniel, Daniel's Visions, Death of Jesus, Delay, Eschatology, Eschatology of Jesus, Faith, First Century Judaism, Historical Jesus, Imminence, Interim, ipsissima verba, ipsissima vox, jesus, Jesus and His Promised Second Coming, Jesus Christ, Messianic Expectations, Parousia, Phillip Powers, Return, Return of Christ, Sayings of Jesus, Second Coming, Second Coming of Christ, Second Temple Judaism, substantia verba, The Coming of Christ, The Second Coming of Christ, Tucker S. Ferda | posted in Book Review, Gospels Studies, Historical Jesus

12/04/2025

On the Wonder of the Incarnation and Whether Mary Knew

By Phillip Powers

Christmas really is one of my most favorite times of the year. I love the decorations, the gifts, the parties, and the church Christmas programs, but most of all I love the music. The traditional Christmas carols, the sacred Christmas hymns, they just give me all the feels when it comes to Christmas; in the car, at home, at church, you will almost always find me listening to Christmas music during the month of December. And one of my most favorite Christmas songs is the song “Mary, Did You Know?”, and my most favorite arrangement of the song is performed by Mark Lowry with the acapella group Voctave singing backup (posted above). Mark Lowry wrote the lyrics in 1985 when he was asked to write a script for a church Christmas play, and the lyrics were put to music in 1991 by Buddy Greene. Of course, it has been recorded by many varied recording artists over the years, both secular and sacred, and it is sung and played regularly during Christmas programs in churches all across the United States and, no doubt, around the world.

However, every year it seems, I read some renewed or repeated criticism of the song on social media. Some attempt to dismiss the song theologically, citing the Annunciation and the Magnificat as evidence that “she knew”. I have even seen some who have attempted to go line by line through the song to give a yes or no answer to each rhetorical question. Similarly, those in the Roman Catholic tradition take issue with the suggestion that Mary needed to be “delivered” and “made new” because of their (erroneous) beliefs about the sinlessness of Mary. Others argue that the song is mawkish, sappy, and infantilizing, that it is “the most sexist Christmas song ever written,” or that it “treats her like a clueless child.” Still others dismiss the song simply because it is overplayed and/or poorly performed by well-meaning church members during the Christmas season as “special” music. And to be honest, when I read criticisms like these, I just shake my head and wonder how we have lost our wonder at the miracle of the incarnation.

Biblically, it is true that Luke presents Mary as a paragon of faith. When she is confronted by the angel Gabriel with the news that she will conceive by the Holy Spirit and give birth to the Son of God, she responds with simple faith, “See, I am the Lord’s servant. May it happen to me as you have said.” (Luke 1.38) And her Magnificat (Luke 1.46-55) clearly indicates that she understood that this was a pivotal moment in the unfolding of God’s plan of redemption for the world. However, we also know that at one point during his earthly ministry, she came with her other children to try to hide Jesus away because they thought he was an embarrassment to the family. (Mark 3:31-35, parallels Matthew 12.46-50, Luke 8.19-21) Time and again, the Gospels detail how the first followers of Jesus struggled to fully understanding the significance of who he was and what he had come to do, and we should assume that Mary would have been no different. We know that Mary treasured and pondered all these things in her heart, but the Bible is clear that the first followers of Jesus, including Mary and his brothers, grew in their understanding of the person and work of Jesus over the course of his life and ministry and that they did not understand him in full until after his resurrection and the coming of the Spirit.

The point is that we should not underestimate the richness of what it means for God to become flesh. When Jesus was born in the Bethlehem 2000 years ago, there was already plenty of theological and cultural expectations as to what he was supposed to be and do. But Jesus turned those expectations on their heads, and he demonstrated that he is a Messiah who cannot be fit into a preconceived box. And as his followers, we should never lose our wonder at this fact. Jesus will always be more than we could possibly hope to comprehend; we will never have him fully figured out. Even when we reach glory, we are told that “He had a name written that no one knows except himself.” (Revelation 19.12) This means that even then there will be more to learn and understand about him when he returns as glorious king. We must never lose our wonder at the person and work of Jesus. Even the things we think we know about him pale in comparison to the fullness of his glory.

And so, when we hear the song “Mary, Did You Know?” this Christmas season, we shouldn’t try to dissect it theologically. We shouldn’t dismiss it because of its musical style, its tone and perspective, or even its emotionality. We should allow it to spur our reflections, to feed our wonder, to drive us to worship the God who became flesh for our sakes, who suffered and died in our place, and who is coming again to receive us unto himself. The song is an artistic, poetic reflection on the miracle of Christmas and the sheer mystery of the incarnation. Mary was in a unique position to feel the weight and wonder of it all, and at Christmas, it is right for us to enter into her experience, to ponder anew what it must have been like, and to fall down in worship of the God who became flesh. This Christmas, let us rekindle our wonder. Let us stand in awe and silence, and let us rejoice in the fact that we have a savior who came to heal our brokenness, to free us from sin, and to restore in us the joy of living in his presence. He is Emmanuel; He is God with us!

Leave a comment | tags: Advent, Annunication, Awe, Bethlehem, Christmas, Christmas Carols, Christmas Hymns, Christmas Programs, Emmanuel, Faith, Gabriel, Glory of Christ, God, Gospel, Holy Spirit, Hope, Incarnation, jesus, Jesus Christ, Jesus is King, Magnificat, Mark Lowry, Mary, Mary and Joseph, Mary Did You Know, Phillip Powers, The Birth of Jesus, Virgin Birth, Wonder, Worship | posted in Devotional, Gospels Studies, Historical Jesus, Spiritual Formation, Worship & Liturgy

04/03/2023

On the Events of Holy Week

By Phillip Powers

The events of Holy Week stand as the climax of the public ministry of Jesus in the Gospel accounts. All four of the Gospel writers devote almost half of their material to these events. Clearly, they intended for this story to stand at the center of our reflection on the person and work of Jesus. However, for most modern Christians, the events of Holy Week receive only a passing nod. Of course, we look forward to Easter and the cultural dressings that accompany it, and most churches emphasize the resurrection of Jesus on Easter Sunday, whether through song, sermon, or drama. But other than that, the final week of our Lord’s life mostly goes unacknowledged in the reflection and devotion of many people who call themselves His followers. As the Apostle James would say, “My brothers and sisters, these things should not be this way.” (James 3.10) The person and work of our Lord Jesus Christ should be the central focus of our reflection, not only during Holy Week, but every week of the year, because He is the never ending source of the sustaining grace that we need to live as His followers. So, in the space that follows, I would like to briefly sketch out the daily events of Holy week, so that we may grow in our understanding of what He accomplished on our behalf.

Palm Sunday
On Palm Sunday, Jesus made His triumphant entry into Jerusalem. This was His official presentation before the Jerusalem religious establishment as the long-awaited Messianic King. Matthew informs us that this event is the fulfillment of the prophecy of Zechariah 9.9 (Matthew 21.4-5), and we have this confirmed by the shouts of the Galilean pilgrims who sang “Hosanna” (Mark 11.9-10). However, as elated and joyous as the crowds were that day, we know that there is darkness on the horizon. Even as He was approaching the Holy City, He paused to weep over their lack of faith (Luke 19.41-44). It is likely that many of those who joined in the procession that day expected that this would be the day when Jesus would overthrow the Romans and establish Israel as an independent kingdom, and yet His disciples knew that He had already predicted three times that He would be crucified in Jerusalem. So, even as the disciples celebrated the arrival of Messiah, they waited with bated breath as His public ministry began to approach its primary purpose.

Monday
The last thing Jesus did on Sunday before retiring to Bethany for the night was to inspect the Temple (Mark 11.11), and in the subsequent scenes, the Gospel writers make it clear what He found there. On Monday, as they were heading back into the city, Jesus happened upon a fig tree that appeared to be fruitful, but finding it empty, He cursed it. It subsequently withered. In between these scenes, we have the familiar story of the temple cleansing. The implication is clear; the temple (and the Jerusalem religious establishment that it represents) was fruitless and empty. Though it had all the right external dressings, it was empty of any and all spiritual substance. And so, in what can only be described as a public act of prophetic judgment, Jesus clears the temple and begins to teach the people. This act was the final straw for the Jewish religious leaders, and from that point on, they began to look intently for a way to kill Him.

Tuesday, the “Day of Controversy”
On Tuesday of His passion, Jesus returned to the “scene of the crime”, so to speak, and as He was walking through the Temple, various factions representing the leadership of the Jewish religious establishment began to question him. The first question that they ask is the most telling and sets the tone for the rest of the day. “By what authority are you doing these things? Who gave you this authority to do these things?” they asked, in what was clearly an accusatory manor. It is obvious that their questions were not in earnest, and each successive interaction reveals their scheme with more clarity. But as the “Day of Controversy” unfolds, Jesus ably avoids their traps, and in the process, He exposes the true nature of their problem. Time and again, He brings the discussion back to the Scriptures, exposing the stubborn refusal of His opponents to submit to their authority. In other words, their problem is not with Him per se; rather, it is with the authority of God which He represents as Messiah. His is an authority that they all but refuse to submit to, and it is this refusal that ultimately provokes Jesus to condemn of the Temple and all that it represents in the Olivet Discourse. In this discourse, Jesus turns the attention of His disciples away from the religious, political, and nationalistic hopes of the Jewish religious establishment to a hope that culminates in His return in glory to establish the Kingdom of God once and for all.

“Silent” Wednesday
Wednesday of Holy Week is known as “Silent Wednesday”, because the Gospels are practically silent as to the activity of Jesus and the Disciples on that day. It is most likely that they spent the day in Bethany with Mary, Martha, and Lazarus enjoying the limited time that they had left to be together. It is also likely that it was on this Wednesday, as they were sharing a meal together in the home of Simon the Leper, that the woman with the alabaster jar came to anoint Jesus (Mark 14.3-10). Immediately, Judas raised the alarm that this valuable commodity had been wasted when it could have been sold and the profits given to the poor. But, when his concerns were seemingly dismissed by Jesus, it was the final straw. Apparently, this event was the breaking point for Judas, and immediately, he went out to plot with the Jewish religious leaders to betray Jesus for 30 pieces of silver. This is why this day is also known as “Spy” Wednesday.

Maundy Thursday (See also “On Maundy Thursday”)
On Thursday morning, Jesus instructed His disciples on where they could prepare to celebrate the Passover, and later that evening, Jesus arrived at the location where He would celebrate His Last Supper with them. The evening began with Jesus donning the apparel of a servant and washing the disciples feet. Using this action as an object lesson, Jesus went on to teach them in the Upper Room Discourse (John 13-17) about a New Commandment, “that you should love one another.” This is why we call it “Maundy” Thursday; the name comes from the Latin mandatum which means command, “a new commandment.” During the course of the evening, Jesus predicted that the disciples would betray Him (even Peter would do so three times before the rooster crowed), and Judas left to prepare for his act of betrayal. The evening concluded with the sharing of the bread and cup as symbols of His body that was about to be broken and His blood that was about to be shed for the forgiveness of sins as the inauguration of the New Covenant. After their meal, they adjourned to the Garden of Gethsemane, and while the disciples slept, Jesus prayed three times that “this cup” (by which He meant His passion) would pass from Him. Shortly thereafter, the mob arrived, Judas completed his betrayal with a kiss, and Jesus was arrested.

Good Friday
After His arrest, Jesus was carried away to the house of the High Priest where He was subjected to a sham trial in the darkness of night. The fix was in, as they say, as one by one witnesses were brought in to make false accusations against Him, and yet, throughout it all, He remained quiet. At first light, they brought Him before the Roman authorities, because the Jewish religious leaders lacked the authority to put anyone to death, and after being examined and found innocent by both Pontius Pilate and Herod Antipas, the religious leaders stirred up the crowd to call for His death. So, Pilate offered them a choice; he would release Barabbas the murderer or Jesus, the so-called King of the Jews. Again, the religious leaders stirred up the crowd, and they called for the release of Barabbas and for the crucifixion of Jesus. Pilate gave them what they asked for; he turned Jesus over to the Romans soldiers to be mocked and beaten, and then they led him away to be crucified. At the top of Golgotha, they nailed him to a cross and crucified him between two criminals. The soldiers cast lots for His clothes, and the Jewish religious leaders mocked him. At about three in the afternoon, He cried out with a loud voice “It is finished” and yielded up His Spirit to His Father. The Roman soldiers pierced His side with a spear to confirm that He was dead. Joseph of Arimathea requested His body and buried it in his own personal tomb before the start of the Sabbath at sundown.

Holy Saturday
The Gospels are mostly silent as to the details of Holy Saturday. Of course, it was the Jewish sabbath, a day dedicated to rest and to the worship of God, but for the followers of Jesus, this day was probably not very restful, to say the least. After all, they had just watched in horror as their beloved Master was wrongfully accused, unjustly convicted, and tragically executed. Jesus was dead, and it appeared that all their hopes had died with Him. He was supposed to be the Messiah, the prophesied and anointed King who would establish the Kingdom of God on earth, and He had been murdered, seemingly defeated by the worldly powers that be. Sure, he had predicted His own death and resurrection, but it is clear that they had no understanding of what that might mean until after all these things had taken place. On this Saturday, they were most likely overcome with grief and despair, and on top of that, there was the fear that what happened to Him might yet happen to them as well. And so, it is most likely that they spent the day locked behind closed doors cowering in terror. It was a dark day indeed, and yet, we know looking back that His death would not be the final word, that light and hope were still on the horizon. But this is the nature of Christian discipleship; sometimes we must endure the depths of the darkness before we ever begin to see the light of hope.

Resurrection Sunday
On the first day of the week, Sunday morning, at daybreak, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome went to the tomb to anoint His body for burial; there hadn’t been time to do so on Friday due to the haste of getting Him buried before the start of the Sabbath. As they made their way to the tomb, they began to wonder how they might roll the stone away. However, when they arrived, they found the stone had already been rolled away, and when they looked inside the tomb, they were met by an angelic being who informed them of what had taken place. “Don’t be alarmed,” he told them. “You are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has risen! He is not here.” (Mark 16.6) Immediately, and with the angel’s express instruction, they returned to the city to inform the disciples of what they had seen. Of course, Peter, along with John ran off to see it for themselves, and finding it as the women had said, they were amazed at what this could mean. But Mary Magdalene stayed behind at the tomb, crying and confused. A man approached her, and at first, she did not recognize Him, assuming Him to be the gardener. “Sir, if you’ve carried him away, tell me where you’ve put him, and I will take him away.” (John 20.15) But when He called her by name, she immediately understood that this man was none other than her Lord and Savior. Later that day, He appeared to all of them in the upper room, even though the door was still locked, comforted them with the peace of His presence, and commissioned them to proclaim all that they had seen and heard.

If you are like me, and you have been raised in church, this may seem like the same ole’ story that has been told and retold too many times to count, but we must remember that this is the greatest story that has ever been told. These events are the pendulum upon which the course and destiny of human history hangs. The story of Jesus, especially His death and resurrection, are the foundation of God’s redemptive work in the world, and it is the very soul of our salvation. As followers of Jesus, we must never tire of hearing it, telling it, reading it, and singing it; we must never cease to be amazed at the wondrous work of Jesus on our behalf. And so this Holy week, let us echo the words of that great hymn writer, who wrote,

Tell me the story of Jesus
Write on my heart every word
Tell me the story most precious
Sweetest that ever was heard
~Fanny Crosby, “Tell Me the Story of Jesus”

For further study, see
On the Annual Celebration of Christmas and Easter
On the Crucifixion and Why It Matters at Christmas
On the How the Death of Jesus Changed Everything
On Why Christians Still Need the Gospel
On Remembering the Gospel
On Jesus’ Understanding of His Death
On the Season of Easter

See also:
Cook, William F., III. Jesus’s Final Week: From Triumphal Entry to Empty Tomb. Nashville, TN: B&H Academic, 2022.

Leave a comment | tags: Crucifixion, Disciples, Easter, Fourth Gospel, Good Friday, Gospel, Holy Saturday, Holy Week, Jerusalem, Jesus Christ, Judas, Maundy Thursday, Palm Sunday, Passion Week, Passover, Phillip Powers, Pilate, Resurrection, Silent Wednesday, Synoptic Gospels, The Gospel of John, The Gospel of Luke, The Gospel of Mark, The Gospel of Matthew, Triumphal Entry | posted in Gospels Studies, Historical Jesus, Worship & Liturgy

03/07/2023

On the Beauty of the Fourfold Gospel Witness

By Phillip Powers

It is truly a manifestation of the grace of God that there are four accounts of the life of Jesus in the New Testament. They are rightly called theological history, because each one of them details the life of Jesus in a way that emphasizes and highlights particular aspects of who He is and what He has done for His people. While any one of them may have been sufficient on their own to convey the pertinent historical facts of His life, the four of them together paint a beautiful multilayered tapestry that has sparked the reflection and devotion of His followers now for two millennia. In the space that follows, I will sketch out the contours of that tapestry by discussing the particular emphases of each Gospel.

According to the documentary hypothesis, Mark wrote his gospel first based on the memoirs of the Apostle Peter. The vast majority of Mark’s gospel is reproduced in both Matthew and Luke, but this does not mean that Mark’s Gospel is incomplete, redundant, or lacking in historical and theological value. This value is seen clearly in the very first verse of his work, “The beginning of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.” Functioning somewhat like a title or purpose statement, this verse is packed with theological significance. It tells us that Mark’s work is a “gospel”, a word that means good news; it also states clearly that this good news has to do with Jesus, the messianic Son of God. That this is the primary way that Mark wants his audience to see Jesus is confirmed following His death, when a Roman Centurion says, “Truly, this man was the Son of God.”

However, what makes Mark’s gospel so compelling is that this truth is hidden throughout most of the Gospel. The so-called messianic secret, in which Jesus repeatedly instructs people not to make His identity known, stands in stark contrast to the bold affirmations at the beginning and end of Mark’s Gospel. This is probably because Mark wants his readers to understand that the messianic identity of Jesus is defined by His death on the cross for sin. Almost half of Mark’s gospel is dedicated to the events of Passion week. Whereas the first ten chapters are quickly paced and action oriented, the final six slow down to something like a snail’s pace in detailing the events of the final seven days of Jesus’ life. This is why many have considered Mark’s gospel to be an apology or a defense of the cross that was likely written for Christians in Rome shortly before the persecutions of Nero.

Of course, though chronologically prior, the Gospel of Mark is not ordered first in the New Testament canon; that pride of place belongs to the Gospel of Matthew, and it is easy to understand why. Not only does Matthew’s Gospel begin with a genealogy that traces the lineage of Jesus through David to Abraham, it also includes an infancy narrative that captivates those who read it. However, this is part of Matthew’s unique purpose to show that Jesus is the Son of David, Son of Abraham. Not only does this connect the New Testament back to the Old Testament, it also would have been particularly important if Matthew was writing to Jewish Christians, as many suppose. For Matthew, Jesus is the fulfillment of God’s covenant promises, both to Abraham and to David; he is the long awaited Davidic messiah, heir to the throne of God’s Kingdom, and the one who mediates the blessings of the Abrahamic Covenant.

More than that though, for Matthew, Jesus is a new and better Moses. This is evident in the many ways that the events of the first four chapters recapitulate the life of Moses. On top of this, Matthew has structured His gospel around five primary discourses, a fact that likely refers back to the five books of Moses. In the same way that Moses was the mediator of the Law under the Old Covenant, likewise, Jesus is the mediator of the “law” under the New Covenant. This is confirmed in the Great Commission, where Jesus commands His disciples to “teach all that I have commanded you.” The phrase “all that I have commanded you” most naturally refers back to the content of the five primary discourses in Matthew’s Gospel. Because of this, many consider Matthew’s Gospel to be a handbook on discipleship, a manual that instructs us in what it means to follow Jesus.

The Gospel of Luke rounds out the “Synoptic Gospels”, and like Matthew, it begins with a beautiful retelling of the Christmas story. However, what stands out in Luke’s infancy narrative is the role of the Holy Spirit. Of course, many consider Luke to be the theologian of the Spirit par excellence in the New Testament, not least of which is due to the continued role that the Spirit plays in Luke’s second volume, the Book of Acts, otherwise known as the Acts of the Holy Spirit. Luke’s emphasis on the role of the Spirit is largely due to his desire to present Jesus as the Spirit anointed messiah. This is confirmed in chapter 4 of Luke’s Gospel, when Jesus reads a passage from the Book of Isaiah, which says in part “The Spirit is upon me.” After He sits down, He says, “Today, this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.” In other words, Luke wants us to see that Jesus is the spirit anointed Messiah who has finally come to pour out the blessings of the Messianic jubilee. According to the passage from Isaiah, chapter 61, these blessings are primarily manifested in the compassionate healing of those who are blind, deaf, mute, etc, and throughout Jesus’ ministry, Luke repeatedly details the compassion that Jesus demonstrated during his healing ministry. For Luke in particular, Jesus is a man of sorrows, well acquainted with grief, bearing the burdens and ailments of many.

In addition to this, a large portion of Luke’s unique material is dedicated to Jesus’ final journey toward Jerusalem. In Luke, chapter 9, we read that “He set his face like flint to go to Jerusalem;” this simply means that the final journey of Jesus to Jerusalem to be crucified was purposeful and intentional on the part of Jesus, so that “the scriptures might be fulfilled.” The fulfillment of God’s plan for salvation history is a primary emphasis in both Luke’s Gospel and in the Book of Acts. In other words, Jesus was not a victim of circumstance or the maniacal plots of evil men; He was delivered up according to the predetermined plan of God from before the foundations of the world. Luke wants his audience to understand that everything that happened during the life of Jesus from his birth to his death, resurrection, ascension, and session is the fulfillment of God’s eternal plan to redeem humanity from their sins. In fact, in the final chapter of Luke’s gospel, we read on more than one occasion that “all that was written in the Law, the Prophets, and the Psalms must be fulfilled.”

Last, but certainly not least, is the Gospel of John, and the relationship between John and the synoptics is a question that has bewildered many throughout the centuries. This is mostly because John begins His gospel with a striking description of the eternal Word, God the Son, who came incarnate and “dwelt among us”. Clearly, “the disciple whom Jesus loved” wants his readers to understand that this Jesus was no ordinary man; He is the incarnate God man, the Word made flesh, and as he indicates at the end of His gospel, “These things are written so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, and by believing, have life in His name.” The deity of Jesus practically jumps off of the page in John’s gospel, not the least of which is because of the several “I am” statements that are found throughout the book, the most profound of which is “Before Abraham was, I am.” Of course, these “I am” statements refer back to the divine name which was revealed to Moses at the burning bush, and so indicate a startling awareness in the mind of Jesus of His own divinity.

Of course, in the service of this purpose, John structures His gospel around seven specific miracles, or, as he calls them, “signs.” If John did, in fact, write two to three decades after the synoptics, then it seems clear that he did not believe it necessary to record all that Jesus began to do and teach; he even confesses that to do so would require more books than could be humanly conceived. But these seven signs were singled out by John because they advance His thesis that Jesus is the Christ. From the turning of water into wine to the raising of Lazarus from the dead, every one of these signs demonstrate a particular aspect of Jesus messianic identity and so prove that He is the Christ, the one who gives and sustains life in all those who are filled with His Spirit.

In the final analysis, it seems clear that if one of these four gospels were lost or removed from the canon, the followers of Jesus would be at a severe disadvantage. Each and every one of them is necessary for us to appreciate the multi-faceted beauty of the person and work of Him who is called Christ. From the earliest centuries of the Christian movement, these four evangelists have stood together in chorus, singing not in unison but in harmony, and because of this, the followers of Jesus have a sure and certain foundation upon which they can stand as they attempt to follow Christ and be more like Him.

Leave a comment | tags: Evangelists, Four Gospels, Fourfold Witness, Fourth Gospel, God the Son, Jesus Christ, John, Luke-Acts, Mark, Matthew, New Testament, Phillip Powers, Son of David, Son of God, Son of Man, Synoptic Gospels, The Ascension, The Cross, The Death of Jesus, The Gospel, The Gospel of John, The Gospel of Luke, The Gospel of Mark, The Gospel of Matthew, The Resurrection, The Session of Christ | posted in Gospels Studies, Historical Jesus

02/22/2023

On the Spiritual Discipline of Fasting

By Phillip Powers

According to the Christian calendar, today is Ash Wednesday which marks the beginning of the liturgical season of Lent. I have previously written on the season of Lent here and here, so I refer you to these posts for my thoughts on the season of Lent and its spiritual value. Of course, the primary spiritual practice that is traditionally associated with the observance of Lent is the spiritual discipline of fasting, but, even outside of the season of Lent, the spiritual discipline of fasting is a valuable practice for those who wish to be more like Jesus. However, in our consumeristic culture, the discipline of fasting is a spiritual practice that is rarely, if ever, engaged in the Christian life, and this is much to our loss. The witness of Holy Scripture and of church history is replete with examples of men and women whose engagement in the spiritual discipline of fasting had meaningful and abiding value in their walk with Christ. If this is true, why then are we so resistant to this biblically grounded and historically proven discipline of the Christian life?

Part of our resistance may stem from the fact that we simply do not understand what the spiritual discipline of fasting is all about. Because our pulpits are almost completely silent on the topic, the only kind of fasting with which we are familiar has to do with nutrition, weight loss, or some other physical or medical concern. For this reason, our consideration of the question of fasting is primarily focused on the physical aspects of the practice. What to eat, when to eat, how much to eat, we are practically consumed with our need for physical nourishment. Of course, this is very purpose of the spiritual discipline of fasting, to expose our complete and total dependence on food for the production of energy and the cultivation of physical health. In the same way that our bodies are dependent on physical nourishment, so also our souls are dependent on spiritual nourishment for the cultivation of spiritual health and vitality. The purpose of the spiritual discipline of fasting is to teach our souls to hunger and thirst for spiritual food in the same way that our bodies hunger for spiritual food. As Jesus says in the Sermon on the Mount, “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.” (Matthew 5.6)

Another reason for our reluctance to practice this discipline, and perhaps a more fundamental one, is simply our aversion to anything that might cause us discomfort. As creatures, we love our comfort, our ease, our physical pleasure, and we resist, sometimes vehemently, any kind of activity or behavior that might take away our comfort, even temporarily. Simply put, we don’t like pain, and going without food, even if it is just for one meal, can cause some quite unpleasant physical side effects. But we must be willing to entertain the possibility that this pain is good pain, that some temporary physical discomfort could be beneficial if it results in lasting spiritual benefit. Based on the clear scriptural and historical evidence, we must conclude that this is the case. In the same way that physical exercise is often associated with aches and pains in the short term, we all know that regular exercise habits lead to a higher likelihood of physical health in the long run. So, rather than avoiding the temporary discomforts of the spiritual discipline of fasting, we must learn to embrace these as a pathway to long term spiritual health. As the Apostle Paul writes in 1 Timothy, chapter 4, verse 8, “For the training of the body has limited benefit, but godliness is beneficial in every way, since it holds promise for the present life and also for the life to come.”

However, the primary reason for why we should relearn the value of the spiritual discipline of fasting is simply this, namely that our Lord expected us to engage in it. Of course, in the Sermon on the Mount, he did say “when you fast” and not “if you fast” (Matthew 6.16), but his expectation for His disciples is even more clear in Mark, chapter 2. In verse 18 of that chapter, the disciples of the Pharisees and the disciples of John the Baptist come to Jesus to ask Him why His disciples do not fast. Apparently, their lack of practice in this area did not go unnoticed, and so, Jesus explains that they cannot fast while “the bridegroom” is with them, by which He clearly refers to Himself. “But the time will come when the groom will be taken away from them, and then they will fast on that day.” (Mark 2.20) The footnote in the NET Bible indicates that this is a veiled reference to His death, a prediction that He would make more clearly following Peter’s confession at Caesarea Philippi (cf. Mark 8.31, 9.31, 10.33). So, here Jesus is looking forward to the time when His disciples will live without His physical embodied presence, and “they will fast on that day.” In other words, one way that we commune with the risen and ascended Christ is through our submission to His Spirit in the discipline of fasting.

Of course, we must hasten to add that while Jesus may have expected that His disciples would fast, He did not expressly command them to do so. So, our lack of engagement in this spiritual discipline can in no way be construed as sin. However, if we have no driving desire to be more like Jesus, no deep longing to commune with Him by the Spirit, no genuine affection for Christ and His glory, then we may need to consider whether we know Him at all. The Scriptures are clear that to know Christ, to sit in His presence, is far better sustenance than any physical nourishment that food may offer. This is why Jesus told Martha that Mary had chosen the “better meal” (Luke 10.42, author’s translation). This is the irony, namely that fasting is feasting. In other words, the spiritual discipline of fasting is one way by which we feast on the sustenance that comes from Christ.

So Jesus said to them, “Truly I tell you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life in yourselves. The one who eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day, because my flesh is true food and my blood is true drink. The one who eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me, and I in him. Just as the living Father sent me and I live because of the Father, so the one who feeds on me will live because of me. This is the bread that came down from heaven; it is not like the manna your ancestors ate—and they died. The one who eats this bread will live forever.”
John 6.53-58

Leave a comment | tags: Ash Wednesday, Comfort, Disciples, Disicpleship, Fasting, Feasting, Food, Godliness, Good Pain, Hunger, Jesus Christ, Lent, Nourishment, Phillip Powers, Physical Need, Righteousness, Sermon on the Mount, Spiritual Disciplines, Spiritual Food, Spiritual Need, Thirst | posted in Gospels Studies, Historical Jesus, Practical Theology, Spiritual Formation

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Category Archives: Gospels Studies

On the Narrative Logic of John 21

On the (Un)Importance of the Gospel of Thomas

On the Jesus of History and the Christ of Faith

On the Johannine Pentecost

On the Red Letters and the Authentic Words of Jesus

On Jesus and His Promised Second Coming: A Book Review

On the Wonder of the Incarnation and Whether Mary Knew

On the Events of Holy Week

On the Beauty of the Fourfold Gospel Witness

On the Spiritual Discipline of Fasting

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