Tag Archives: Already and Not Yet

On Eschatology in the Book of Hebrews

One of the major themes of the Letter to the Hebrews is the theme of perseverance. But perseverance unto what? What is the destination toward which we are heading? Hebrews paints an extraordinarily “heavenly” picture. We share in a heavenly calling (3.1), we have tasted the heavenly gift (6.4), we desire a heavenly country (11.16), and we have come to the heavenly Jerusalem (12.22). All of this can create the impression that Hebrews replaces earthly and creational hope with an essentially spiritual, heavenly destiny. On the other hand, the strong fulfillment language found throughout the book can be pushed toward the opposite mistake, namely treating the eschatological horizon of Hebrews as if it were essentially exhausted by Christ’s first coming and other first-century events. But, in my opinion, neither of these extremes adequately captures the eschatological vision of the Book of Hebrews. Rather, Hebrews presents Christian existence as participation in an eschatological salvation that has genuinely begun through Christ’s death, resurrection, exaltation, and heavenly priesthood but awaits a future consummation at his return. That consummation cannot be reduced either to events surrounding the first century or to an immaterial heavenly existence, for Hebrews directs believers toward Christ’s future appearing, the resurrection and judgment of the dead, the final shaking of creation, and humanity’s inheritance of “the world to come.”

The author of Hebrews introduces this “world to come that we are talking about” in 2.5, and he immediately quotes from Psalm 8. Psalm 8 is a prayerful reflection on humanity’s God-given dominion over creation. In other words, it speaks of creational realities and of humanity’s God-intended vocation. The eschatological hope envisioned here is therefore not an abandonment of humanity’s creational vocation but its ultimate realization. And the author of Hebrews is clear that this vocation is fulfilled in the second Adam, Jesus Christ. Jesus fulfills humanity’s vocation, having been crowned with glory and honor because he suffered death (2.9). Yet Hebrews immediately acknowledges an obvious tension: “At present, we do not yet see everything in subjection to him.” The promise of Psalm 8 has not yet reached its complete realization in human experience. What we do see, however, is Jesus, who has already entered into the glory and dominion for which humanity was created. His exaltation therefore anticipates the destiny of those who belong to him. The “world to come” is the world in which humanity’s creational vocation, already realized in the exalted Christ, will finally become a reality for redeemed humanity. From the outset, then, Hebrews presents an eschatological hope that is both already realized in Christ and still awaiting its full realization in the world to come.

This is exactly why we can speak of the “already” in the phrase “already and not yet.” The “last days” began when the Son came incarnate to earth, died on the cross, and rose again (cf. 1.1–2). “He has appeared one time, at the end of the ages, for the removal of sin by the sacrifice of himself” (9.26). The turning of the ages, then, is not merely a future expectation; it has already occurred through the saving work of Jesus Christ. Indeed, believers have even “tasted the powers of the coming age” (6.5). This is possible because Jesus has already entered the heavenly sanctuary on our behalf (9.11–12, 24) and has taken his place at the right hand of God (1.3; 8.1). Consequently, the blessings associated with the world to come have broken into the present through the exalted Christ. Christians can presently draw near to the throne of grace (4.14–16), enter the presence of God through the blood of Jesus (10.19–22), and participate in realities belonging to the coming age. In this sense, the eschatology of Hebrews is genuinely inaugurated. The future has become present in Christ without thereby ceasing to be future.

And yet there is still a future hope. As the author writes in 9.28, “so also Christ, having been offered once to bear the sins of many, will appear a second time, not to bear sin, but to bring salvation to those who are waiting for him.” The Day is approaching (10.25), and “he who is coming will come and will not delay” (10.37). Likewise, there remains a promised rest for the people of God into which believers must still strive to enter (4.1–11). Nor is this future expectation limited to Christ’s return. Hebrews includes “the resurrection of the dead and eternal judgment” among the foundational realities of the Christian faith (6.2), while the faithful who have gone before us have “not received what was promised,” so that “they would not be made perfect without us” (11.39–40). In other words, whatever first-century fulfillments Hebrews may encompass, its eschatological horizon exceeds them. Christ has accomplished the decisive work of salvation and presently reigns at the right hand of God, but the salvation secured by his first appearing still awaits its consummation at his second. The “already” of Hebrews is therefore substantial, but it does not eliminate the “not yet.”

Of course, as I stated above, Hebrews paints an extraordinarily heavenly picture of salvation. However, it is important that we distinguish between the heavenly location and source of our salvation and the ultimate nature of our salvation. A heavenly sanctuary does not imply eternal disembodiment, nor does present access to heaven require an ultimate escape from creation. As we saw in Hebrews 2 and its quotation of Psalm 8, our salvific destiny concerns humanity and “the world to come.” The goal is the realization of humanity’s God-given vocation over creation, a destiny already realized in the exalted Christ but not yet realized in us. Moreover, Hebrews 6.2 explicitly retains “the resurrection of the dead” as part of its eschatological expectation. Even Abraham’s desire for a “better country—a heavenly one” (11.16) must be read within this broader eschatological horizon rather than as a Greek-style escape from embodiment. The country is heavenly because it is prepared by God and belongs to the order of his promised salvation, not because salvation requires the abandonment of created existence. Indeed, Hebrews immediately associates this heavenly country with the city that God has prepared for his people. In other words, Hebrews has a heavenly Christology without an ethereal eschatology.

This is made clear when the author quotes Haggai 2.6: “Yet once more I will shake not only the earth but also the heavens” (Heb 12.26). In other words, final judgment has cosmic dimensions. God’s eschatological purpose is not merely private souls arriving in heaven. It involves the shaking of the created order and “the removal of what can be shaken—that is, created things—so that what is not shaken might remain” (12.27). Significantly, the emphasis is not simply upon destruction, but upon what remains after the shaking. As believers, we are therefore “receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken” (12.28). The contrast is between the present order, which remains subject to God’s eschatological shaking and judgment, and the permanent kingdom that God will establish beyond that judgment. This is the “world to come” toward which the author has been directing our attention: the promised order in which the purposes of God, already realized in the exalted Christ, reach their final and unshakable realization. The consummation envisioned by Hebrews therefore encompasses creation, judgment, kingdom, and the destiny of redeemed humanity. Its hope is not escape from the created order, but participation in the permanent order that remains when God finally shakes heaven and earth.

This already-but-not-yet tension explains why Hebrews so frequently describes the Christian life in terms of pilgrimage and perseverance. Abraham looked forward to “the city that has foundations, whose architect and builder is God” (11.10), while the patriarchs confessed that they were “strangers and temporary residents on the earth” because they desired the better and heavenly country God had prepared for them (11.13–16). Christians similarly have no enduring city here but “seek the one to come” (13.14). Yet this pilgrimage does not mean that believers are searching for a salvation they have not yet encountered. Jesus has already entered the heavenly sanctuary as our “forerunner” (6.19–20), opening the way into God’s presence for those who belong to him. Christians therefore live between promise and consummation. We already possess access to the heavenly realities secured by Christ, but we still journey toward the final inheritance of those realities in the world to come. This is precisely why perseverance matters so much in Hebrews. Christians belong to the world to come before the world to come has arrived in its fullness. We therefore press forward in faith because the destination toward which we journey has already been secured by the Christ who has gone before us.

So, we return to the opening question: perseverance unto what? Hebrews calls believers to persevere because the salvation inaugurated by Jesus Christ has not yet reached its consummation. We await his second appearing, the resurrection of the dead and final judgment, the promised rest, the city that is to come, the unshakable kingdom, and ultimately the “world to come” over which redeemed humanity will share in the destiny already realized in Jesus Christ. Hebrews therefore allows us neither to collapse its eschatological expectations into events surrounding the first century nor to transform its heavenly language into the hope of an immaterial existence removed from creation. Instead, its eschatology is grounded in what Christ has already accomplished and directed toward what God has yet promised to accomplish. Hebrews 2 captures this tension remarkably well: “At present, we do not yet see everything subjected to him,” but “we do see Jesus” already crowned with glory and honor (2.8–9). Christians therefore look upward because Jesus is already enthroned in heaven, but we also look forward because the world over which the enthroned Son reigns has not yet become what God has promised it will be. Until then, we persevere, following our forerunner and awaiting the world to come.


On the Kingdom of God and this World

In my opinion, one of the most profound scenes of Jesus’s passion is his examination before Pilate in John 18:28–40. In the middle of this scene, Jesus makes a startling statement: “My kingdom is not of this world. If my kingdom were of this world, my servants would fight, so that I wouldn’t be handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not from here” (John 18.36). This statement is pregnant with significance for understanding the nature of the kingdom Jesus preached, but it is often misunderstood. When Jesus says, “My kingdom is not of this world,” many understand him to mean something like, “My kingdom has nothing to do with the earth.” This can create the misconception that the Christian hope is ultimately to escape the physical world for an immaterial heavenly existence. But is this what Jesus is really saying? To answer that question, we must distinguish between two others: Where does Jesus’s kingdom come from, and where will it ultimately be manifested? Jesus’s kingdom is not an immaterial or purely spiritual kingdom removed from the earth. Rather, its origin and authority do not derive from the present world order, and it will ultimately be manifested in its fullness when Christ reigns over a renewed creation.

However, in order to understand this, we must first consider Jesus’s statement in its immediate context. The question Jesus is answering sets the scene. Pilate asks, “Are you the King of the Jews?” (John 18:33). In response, Jesus does not deny the implication of the question, but he uses the opportunity to clarify the nature of his kingdom: “My kingdom is not [from] this world.” The preposition (ἐκ) indicates the source or origin of Jesus’s kingdom, not its geographical location or ultimate destination. In other words, Jesus does not mean that his kingdom has nothing to do with this world, that it will never exist upon the earth, or even that it is purely spiritual. Rather, Jesus is saying that his authority does not stem from the world’s powers and that his kingdom does not operate according to the world’s principles and values. This is why he goes on to say, “If my kingdom were of this world, my servants would fight, so that I wouldn’t be handed over to the Jews.” If his kingdom were a kingdom derived from this world, then his servants would advance it according to this world’s methods. But his kingdom is from above, even as he is from above. It is defined by a different set of priorities and values. Or, to put it another way, Jesus’s point concerns the origin and character of his kingdom, not the permanent exclusion of the earth from its rule.

This distinction between the kingdom’s heavenly origin and its earthly significance is consistent with a larger pattern in John’s Gospel. Earlier, Jesus tells his opponents, “You are from below; I am from above. You are of this world; I am not of this world” (John 8:23). The language closely parallels Jesus’s description of his kingdom before Pilate. Yet when Jesus says that he is not “of this world,” he obviously does not mean that his mission has nothing to do with the world. Jesus comes from above precisely in order to enter this world and accomplish God’s saving purposes within it. His heavenly origin identifies the source of his identity and authority without removing his mission from the earthly sphere. The same is true of his kingdom. Because it is not “from this world,” Christ’s kingdom does not derive its authority from earthly rulers like Pilate or advance through the coercive power by which worldly kingdoms maintain their rule. Its authority comes from God and therefore confronts the fallen world’s values rather than conforming to them. A kingdom that is not from this world, then, need not be a kingdom that has nothing to do with this world. Indeed, the larger biblical story reveals that God’s purpose is not to abandon the world he created, but ultimately to redeem and renew it.

In the beginning, God created the physical world and all it entails, and then he pronounced it to be “very good.” When sin entered the picture, however, it corrupted God’s good creation. But rather than simply abandon what he had made, God set in motion a plan to redeem the created order and restore what was lost in the garden. This is why Paul says that creation itself longs to be “set free from the bondage to decay into the glorious freedom of God’s children” (Rom. 8:21). Significantly, Paul connects the liberation of creation with the redemption of our bodies (8:23). The Christian hope, therefore, can be summed up in one word: resurrection. Jesus was raised bodily, and those who believe in him await a resurrection in which our mortal bodies will be glorified. (On Christian hope as resurrection rather than simply “going to heaven,” see here.) Our hope is not for some kind of disembodied existence, nor is it to be saved from material creation. Rather, we await the glorification of our bodies so that we might live as embodied creatures within a restored creation. The biblical story does not move from creation to the abandonment of creation, but from creation through fall and redemption to new creation.

This is ultimately how the kingdom of God will be manifested on earth, i.e., in a new creation; this is the goal of the Bible’s story. In Revelation 21:1–3, we read of a new heaven and a new earth, and a new Jerusalem coming down out of heaven to earth. John records it this way: “Then I heard a loud voice from the throne: Look, God’s dwelling is with humanity, and he will live with them. They will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them and will be their God” (Rev. 21:3). The direction of this movement is significant. God’s people do not permanently leave the earth to dwell with God somewhere else; God comes to dwell with his people in a renewed creation. This vision brings to fulfillment Isaiah’s earlier expectation of “new heavens and a new earth” (Isa. 65:17) and the declaration in Revelation that “the kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Lord and of his Christ, and he will reign forever and ever” (Rev. 11:15). Christ’s reign, therefore, does not culminate in the abandonment of the created world, but in God’s reign being fully manifested throughout a renewed creation. The present world order characterized by sin, rebellion, death, and corruption passes away, but God’s purposes for his creation do not. The kingdom is not from this world, but it is ultimately for this world—not the world as presently corrupted by sin, but the world judged, renewed, and brought completely under the reign of Christ.

Of course, this does not mean that Christ is not already reigning. Christ does not have to wait until the new creation to become King. He is King, and he is seated at the right hand of the Father, where he reigns over his church by his Spirit through the Word. His kingdom is already present, and his authority is already real. Through his death, resurrection, exaltation, and the giving of the Spirit, Christ presently reigns. We call this inaugurated eschatology, or the already and the not yet. (On inaugurated eschatology in the preaching of John and Jesus, see my post here.) The kingdom of Christ has already begun, but it has not yet reached its full realization. However, it is important to note that just because Christ’s kingdom is already present, this does not mean that it is a purely spiritual kingdom. It is presently manifested on earth through his church, and one day it will be consummated throughout the new creation. The difference is not between a spiritual kingdom now and an earthly kingdom later, but between a kingdom already inaugurated and a kingdom not yet consummated. The kingdom that has already broken into the present through Christ will therefore reach its appointed goal when his reign extends in all its fullness throughout a renewed creation at his return. (On the already and the not yet of the Kingdom, see Thinking Theologically here.)

So, we can now return to that profound scene with which we began. Pilate looks upon what appears to be a powerless Jewish prisoner and asks, “Are you the King of the Jews?” Jesus’s answer is that he possesses a kingdom, but that his kingdom is “not from this world” (John 18:36). Far from denying his kingship or consigning his kingdom to some immaterial spiritual realm, Jesus identifies the divine source and radically different character of his reign. His kingdom does not originate from the fallen powers of this world, nor does it advance through their methods of coercion and violence. The Christian hope, therefore, is neither the establishment of Christ’s kingdom through worldly political conquest nor an escape from the physical world into an eternal disembodied existence. Instead, we await the return of the King, the resurrection of the dead, the judgment of evil, and the renewal of creation, when the reign that already belongs to Christ will be manifested in all its fullness. Jesus’s kingdom is not from this world because its authority, power, and character come from God. But that does not mean that Christ intends to abandon the world to sin, death, and decay. The King who once stood before Pilate will return to renew creation and manifest his reign over all things. The kingdom is not from this world, but God’s purpose is ultimately to bring this world, renewed and restored, under the reign of its rightful King.


On Thinking Theologically (Weekend Vlog)


On the Preaching of John the Baptist and Jesus

Have you ever wondered why all four Gospels begin the story of Jesus’s public ministry with the ministry of John the Baptist? Could it possibly be because John came preaching, “Repent, because the kingdom of heaven has come near!” (Matt. 3.2), and Jesus began his own ministry by preaching, “Repent, because the kingdom of heaven has come near!” (Matt. 4.17)? They begin their preaching with virtually the same message. What, then, is the relationship between the preaching and ministry of John the Baptist and that of Jesus? Sometimes John is treated as little more than a necessary but largely preparatory prelude to the more important ministry of Jesus, almost as though his primary purpose were simply to baptize Jesus and then disappear from the story. But the Gospels reveal remarkable continuity between the preaching of these two figures. Jesus’s preaching stands in fundamental continuity with John the Baptist’s proclamation of the approaching kingdom, repentance, salvation, and judgment; yet it also develops John’s message by announcing that the kingdom has become present in Jesus’s own ministry while its final judgment remains future. The transition from John to Jesus, therefore, is not a transition from one eschatological message to another, but from the announcement of what God is about to do to the inauguration of that promise in Jesus himself. To understand this development, however, we must first consider what John was actually announcing.

Of course, John the Baptist’s preaching is fundamentally eschatological. He appears in the wilderness announcing, “Repent, because the kingdom of heaven has come near!” (Matt. 3.2). The nearness of God’s kingdom means that Israel has reached a decisive moment in the history of salvation, and repentance is the necessary response to what God is about to do. Indeed, John warns his hearers not to presume upon their covenantal identity: “Don’t presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our father’” (Matt. 3.9). Instead, they must “produce fruit consistent with repentance” because “the ax is already at the root of the trees” (3.8, 10). John’s proclamation therefore contains both salvation and judgment. On the one hand, he announces the coming of one more powerful than himself who “will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire” (3.11). On the other hand, this Coming One already has “his winnowing shovel” in his hand and will separate the wheat from the chaff, burning the latter “with fire that never goes out” (3.12). John therefore stands at the threshold of Israel’s eschatological expectation, announcing that God’s promised intervention is no longer located in some distant future—it has drawn near. His call to repentance, promise of the Spirit, and warning of judgment all derive their urgency from this conviction. Most importantly, however, John does not present himself as the one who will accomplish these things. His entire proclamation points beyond himself toward the Coming One through whom God’s promised salvation and judgment will arrive.

The preaching of Jesus stands in basic continuity with the contours of John’s message. As noted above, Jesus also comes proclaiming the nearness of the kingdom and the need for repentance. In Matthew 4.17, Jesus declares, “Repent, because the kingdom of heaven has come near!” repeating verbatim the proclamation of John (Matt. 3.2). Similarly, Mark summarizes Jesus’s preaching: “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near. Repent and believe the good news!” (Mark 1.15). The point is that Jesus retains John’s basic eschatological framework: kingdom, repentance, salvation, judgment, restoration, and accountability before God. He does not correct John by suggesting that his expectation of judgment was mistaken or that Israel’s eschatological hopes were misguided. On the contrary, Jesus repeatedly warns of a coming judgment, whether in his teaching concerning Gehenna (Matt. 10.28), the separation of the righteous and wicked (Matt. 13.40–43), or the future judgment of the Son of Man (Matt. 25.31–46). We must therefore resist the simplistic dichotomy that John preached judgment while Jesus preached grace. Both proclaim salvation and judgment as dimensions of God’s coming kingdom. The fundamental difference between their preaching must be located somewhere else. The question is not whether Jesus abandoned John’s eschatological message, but what happened to that message once the One whom John announced actually arrived.

In Matthew 11.2–3, John sends messengers to Jesus to ask him, “Are you the one who is to come, or should we expect someone else?” We are not told exactly what prompted John’s question, but the apparent disconnect between his preaching and Jesus’s actual ministry was likely part of the equation. John had proclaimed the nearness of the kingdom alongside warnings of impending judgment, yet the ministry of Jesus did not seem to indicate that such judgment had arrived. This is why Jesus’s answer to John’s question is so significant. Rather than simply answering yes, Jesus points to the fruit of his ministry: “The blind receive their sight, the lame walk, those with leprosy are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor are told the good news” (Matt. 11.5). These signs reflect the expectations of eschatological restoration found throughout the Book of Isaiah (especially Isa. 35:5–6; 61:1–2). The healings, exorcisms, forgiveness, restoration, and proclamation of good news therefore demonstrate that Israel’s promised salvation has begun. John announced what God was about to do; Jesus points to what God is now doing through him. Here we encounter the essential development from John’s preaching to that of Jesus: John announces the Coming One; Jesus announces and embodies the arrival of the kingdom because he is the Coming One. The transition from John to Jesus is therefore the transition from eschatological expectation to eschatological fulfillment. The promised blessings of the kingdom have begun to enter the present through the ministry of Jesus. But if the blessings have arrived, what has happened to the judgment John so urgently announced?

John had proclaimed that the ax was at the root, that the winnowing fork was in the Coming One’s hand, and that the chaff would be burned with unquenchable fire. Yet Jesus heals, forgives, restores, eats with sinners, and proclaims good news. What is important to remember, however, is that John was not wrong: judgment is coming. Rather, the ministry of Jesus brings greater clarity to the temporal structure of John’s eschatology. The kingdom has arrived in the earthly ministry of Jesus, but final judgment has not. This distinction is illustrated particularly well in Jesus’s sermon at Nazareth in Luke 4. There Jesus reads from Isaiah 61:1–2 and then proclaims, “Today as you listen, this Scripture has been fulfilled” (Luke 4:21). Interestingly, however, Jesus’s reading stops with “the year of the LORD’s favor” and does not include the following phrase, “the day of our God’s vengeance.” We should probably not build too much upon this omission alone, but it fits the larger pattern of Jesus’s ministry remarkably well. The promised blessings of Israel’s restoration are being inaugurated in the present, while final judgment remains future. This does not mean that Jesus abandons John’s expectation of judgment. As noted above, Jesus repeatedly warns of a coming judgment and associates its consummation with the future coming of the Son of Man in glory. Judgment has not disappeared from God’s eschatological program; Jesus has revealed that the kingdom’s saving blessings enter history before its final judgment arrives.

The point is that John’s basic expectations were correct. The Coming One would bring salvation, the Spirit, restoration, and judgment. But the earthly ministry of Jesus reveals that these realities do not all arrive simultaneously in their consummated form. The preaching and ministry of Jesus operate according to what is often described as the “already and not yet,” or inaugurated eschatology. This simply means that in the earthly ministry of Jesus, the kingdom of God was already present even though its final consummation remained future. For example, Jesus declares, “If I drive out demons by the Spirit of God, then the kingdom of God has come upon you” (Matt. 12:28). His ministry of healing, exorcism, forgiveness, and restoration therefore demonstrates that God’s saving reign had already broken into history. Yet Jesus continues to speak of realities that remain future: the resurrection of the dead, the return of the Son of Man, final judgment, and the consummation of God’s kingdom. The kingdom is therefore genuinely present without yet being present in its fullness. Salvation has been inaugurated, while final judgment and consummation remain future. This is not a rejection of John’s preaching but its clarification and fulfillment. The Coming One has arrived, just as John announced, but Jesus reveals something John did not fully articulate: his first advent inaugurates the promised salvation of the kingdom before his return brings that kingdom to its consummation in final judgment.

In the final analysis, the preaching of Jesus neither abandons nor merely repeats the preaching of John the Baptist. Both proclaim the nearness of God’s kingdom, call Israel to repentance, announce the arrival of eschatological salvation, and warn of coming judgment. This is why Matthew can summarize their preaching with precisely the same words: “Repent, because the kingdom of heaven has come near!” (Matt. 3:2; 4:17). Yet those words take on a new significance when spoken by Jesus. John stands at the threshold of fulfillment, announcing that the kingdom is near and pointing forward to the Coming One who will bring it. Jesus is that Coming One, and through his preaching, healings, exorcisms, forgiveness, and restoration, the saving power of the kingdom begins to enter the present. The transition from John to Jesus is therefore the transition from eschatological expectation to eschatological fulfillment—not yet fulfillment in all its fullness, but fulfillment genuinely inaugurated in history. John announces that God’s kingdom has drawn near; Jesus announces and demonstrates that in him its saving power has begun to arrive. Salvation has entered the present, while final judgment remains ahead, awaiting the return of the King who first came proclaiming good news.


On Thinking Theologically (Weekend Vlog)


On the Unfinished Finished Work of Christ

In light of this being the week of our Lord’s passion, it is interesting to note that one of the last things that he said before he gave up his Spirit on the cross was, “It is finished.” (τετέλεσται, John 19.30). With this powerful word, Jesus declared that his work on the cross in making full atonement for sin was completed, and “bowing his head, he gave up his spirit.” It must have been a powerful scene, and no more pregnant words have perhaps ever been spoken. However, the problem is that even though Christ finished his work, sin still seems to run rampant in this world. If it is finished, why, we might ask, is the world still broken, still full of pain and suffering and sin and death? Because of this, we might be tempted to suggest that his work is unfinished. Many Christians struggle to hold together what has already been accomplished and what still remains. However, what we must realize is that Christ’s work is finished; it is fully accomplished in its foundation, but not yet fully realized in its effects. In this post, I would like to consider this tension by offering just a few thoughts on what Christ accomplished in his first coming and what waits to be realized at his second coming.

In one sense, then, it is completely accurate to say that the work of Christ has been fully accomplished, and there are at least three aspects of his work that are completely finished. First, atonement has been accomplished. When Christ died on the cross, he made the full and final payment for our sin. In systematic theology, this is called penal substitutionary atonement. In other words, this means that Christ paid the penalty (penal) that we deserve (substitutionary) for our sin. (On the fact that this was Christ’s view of his death, see here.) He died the death that we deserve by dying in our place. But he did not stay dead; he rose again on the third day. This is the second aspect of Christ’s finished work, namely that victory over death has been secured. When Jesus walked out of the grave on the third day, he defeated death and disarmed Satan of his power. Death no longer has hold over those who are in Christ. We need not fear, we can have hope, even in the face of death. (On hope in the face of death, see here.) And lastly, by dying on the cross, Christ finished his work of establishing righteousness. In other words, his finished work on the cross is now the ground upon which God grants our justification, when we place our faith in Jesus. He lived a perfect life, he died an innocent death. And his righteousness is imputed to us by faith. We are made right, declared innocent, because of Christ’s finished work. This is the gospel. Nothing needs to be added to what Christ accomplished; his work is complete, sufficient, and final. It is not partial, not provisional. It is finished!

Moreover, his finished work on the cross inaugurated several important realities in which we now live. For one, the Kingdom of God has been inaugurated. Forty days after his resurrection, Jesus ascended into heaven to be seated at the right hand of the Father, and he is now reigning with all authority on earth as it is in heaven. (Matt. 28.18) He is not waiting to become King; he is already reigning as King. And he does this by his Spirit. This is the second reality in which we now live, namely that Christ has sent his Spirit to indwell his people. The Spirit mediates Christ’s real presence in and among his people. He is the down payment, the seal, and the guarantee of our faith. And he is actively working in us to make us more like Jesus. And lastly, but certainly not leastly, new life has begun. When we place our faith in Christ, the Spirit regenerates us. He brings to life what was once spiritually dead, and we are born again. In this way we are new creatures in Christ. The old has passed away, and behold the new has come. (2 Cor. 5.17) New creation realities are already at work in us through the Spirit. In these ways, the future has already broken into the present through the risen Christ, and we live in these future realities even now.

And yet, in spite of all of this, several aspects of Christ’s work remain unfinished. Perhaps most clearly, sin still remains in the world. We have been saved from the penalty of sin, but we have not yet been saved from the presence of sin. Our world is saturated and polluted with sin at every turn. People are burdened down with sin and its consequences. Our relationships suffer, bodies are diseased, conflict and turmoil abound at every level of our society. Sin continues its reign of terror nearly unchecked. In addition to this, death still operates in this world. This world reeks with the stench of death; it fills our nostrils everywhere we turn. Our loved ones get sick and die. Accidents and tragedy take lives too soon. Christ has been raised, and death has been defeated. But death still reigns in our mortal bodies, and we ache and groan for that day when death will be no more. Thirdly, the created order groans under the weight of humanity’s sin. When our first parents fell, the creation itself was subjected to futility and decay. The idyllic paradise of Eden was lost to the corruption of sin. And lastly, justice and restoration are yet to be realized. Injustice abounds in our society. From all appearances, the weak get weaker and the strong get stronger. There is no real justice; there is no real peace. Wickedness and evil seem to grow day by day. What is wrong is celebrated as right, and what is right is condemned as wrong. The world is turned upside down, and we long for the day when justice will flow like rivers and when peace will rest upon the earth. And we cry out with the Scriptures, “How long, O Lord? How long?”

In theological parlance, this tension between the finished and the unfinished work of Christ is often referred to by the shorthand phrase “already/not yet”. It simply means that God’s plan of redemption for the world has already begun, has already been inaugurated, but has not yet been fully consummated. The work of Christ’s first coming is finished. He died on the cross, he rose again the third day, he sent his life-giving Spirit. But we are still waiting for the work of his second coming, namely the resurrection of the dead, the final judgment, and the new creation. This is the tension in which we now live, and in this tension, we must avoid two extremes. First, we must avoid living as if nothing has been finished. We must learn to rest in the finished work of Christ. We have been forgiven; we have been indwelled by His Spirit. We can have peace. On the other hand, however, we must not live as if everything is already complete. We do live under the burdens of sin and death; we do long for justice and peace. And we can have hope. The work of Christ is finished in its accomplishment, but it is unfinished in its application to the whole of creation. And so, we wait faithfully as Christ has instructed us.

And this is the point, namely that this tension is not ultimately about stages of fulfillment, though that is certainly the best framework for understanding it. Ultimately, this tension is about Christ. His work is unfinished because his story is not over. (On my argument for the centrality of Christ in our eschatological reflection, see here.) In other words, the same Jesus who said, “It is finished” is the same Jesus who is coming again to make all things new. The same Jesus who died on the cross is the same Jesus who is coming again in glory. Or to put it another way, the second coming of Jesus is not a different work; no, it is the completion of the same work that he began 2000 years ago. The second coming completes what the first coming began, because Christ himself is the fulfillment of all our hopes. Our hope is not just about what Christ has done and will do; it is about Christ himself. It is about his presence. In John 14.3, Jesus promised that he would come again and receive us unto himself, that where he is there we may be also. And so, the unfinished nature of Christ’s work is not a failure of the first coming, but the promise of the second. He is our blessed hope.

And so, yes, we live in the middle of this tension; we live in between the already and the not yet. We are already forgiven, but we are still struggling. We are already alive, yet we are still dying. We are already redeemed, yet we are still waiting. We are waiting to be set free from the presence and the corruption of sin once and for all. This is the lived reality of the Christian life—caught between what has been accomplished and what has not yet been revealed. And I suggest that we must embrace this tension with open arms, because it is only when we embrace this tension that we will be able to hope without denying the pain of our sufferings, that we can be confident without giving into naive triumphalism, and that we can have patience without being paralyzed by despair. If we collapse this tension in either direction, we lose something essential. Either we deny the reality of our present struggle, or we forget the certainty of our future hope. This is the ground that we must stand on, the already and the not yet. We do not live as those waiting for Christ to begin his work, but as those waiting for him to complete it.

When Jesus said, “It is finished.”, he surely meant it. Christ’s work is finished, and yet, it is not yet finished completely. It is finished in its foundation, but it is unfinished in its consummation. We are waiting for the full glory of Christ and his work to be finally revealed on earth. And even in acknowledging the unfinished aspects of Christ work, we must affirm that the work of the cross is not undone; it is unfolding. The resurrection is not isolated; it is expanding. And one day, we will all be raised to meet him in the air, and from that point on, we will always be with the Lord. This is our hope, namely that the Christ who finished his work on the cross is coming again to bring it to final completion. Even so, come quickly, Lord Jesus! Maranatha!


On Christological Eschatology

If you have followed my blog for any amount of time or if you have perused through the topics and tags, then you have probably noticed that eschatology is a primary interest of mine, both academically and pastorally. However, this area of theological reflection often evokes a mixed bag of responses and reactions. Some are quick to debate the various questions and details related to timelines, rapture debates, and millennium questions, while others are prone to avoid the questions altogether. I would suggest that neither one of these responses to the doctrines of the last things is healthy. Moreover, when we are so focused on identifying our particular eschatological system, whether dispensational, premillennial, amillennial, or postmillennial, we run the risk of displacing Jesus from the center of the question. This is not to say that these systems are wrong per se, but it is to say that we are often in danger of missing the forest for the trees as it were. Our eschatology is only as sound as our Christology. Every question about the end ultimately reduces to the question: Who is Jesus, and what is he doing? In other words, our eschatological views must be inherently Christological before they are anything else.

Christological eschatology is the conviction that the person and work of Jesus Christ are not merely part of the end times—they are the interpretive center of all eschatology. Of course, this does not mean that it is unconcerned with the unfolding of future events like the final judgment or the general resurrection. Eschatological reflection will always entail some understanding of the events that are yet to unfold, as Scripture itself directs our attention to these realities. However, Christological eschatology asserts that these events derive their meaning and significance from Christ and his work. They are not self-interpreting realities, nor are they ultimate in themselves; rather, they are the outworking of what God has already accomplished in and through Jesus. In this way, Christological eschatology is not event-centered nor system-centered, but Christ-centered. It refuses to treat the end as a sequence to be mapped or a system to be mastered and instead understands it as the fulfillment of the redemptive work of Christ. It is simply the view that every eschatological question ultimately revolves around the person and work of Christ in bringing redemption to the world.

In many ways, viewing our eschatology as centered on the person and work of Christ is simply a way of embracing the interpretive horizon of the New Testament. The New Testament authors consistently orient their eschatological claims back to the person and work of Jesus. For example, in 1 Corinthians 15, when Paul is addressing the question of the resurrection, he grounds his argument in the fact that Christ has already been resurrected from the dead. He is the first fruits of our resurrection; because Christ has already been raised, we will be raised. (On the logic of the resurrection, see here.) Or again, when the Gospel authors talk about the nearness or the presence of the Kingdom, they speak of it in relation to the presence of Christ. Because Christ is King, his coming to earth marks the beginning of the Kingdom age. This is why we regularly speak of the already and the not yet. The Kingdom has already been inaugurated at Christ’s first coming, and it will be finally consummated at his second coming. In other words, the already/not yet framework is grounded in Jesus himself. Jesus is not just a participant in the end; he is the turning point of history. The end does not merely arrive with Jesus. In a real sense, it begins with him.

We miss this emphasis when we become too focused on other eschatological questions. Both at the popular and at the academic level, we are quick to obsess about timelines, to speculate about sequences, and to read Scripture backward through our preferred eschatological systems. Entire interpretive frameworks are often constructed around the ordering of events, the identification of signs, or the alignment of prophetic texts with contemporary developments. None of these questions are unimportant in themselves, but they can easily assume a controlling role that they were never meant to have. When this happens, the center of gravity in our eschatology subtly shifts. When eschatology becomes primarily about events, charts, and sequences, Christ becomes secondary. Jesus becomes just another piece in the system rather than the center of the system. He is treated as a necessary component within a larger structure, rather than the one in whom that structure finds its meaning and coherence. And when a system can be mapped without reference to the living Christ, then it has already gone off track. At that point, eschatology risks becoming an exercise in speculative reconstruction rather than a theological reflection on the redemptive work of Christ. The question is not whether we have constructed a coherent system, but whether our understanding of the end is actually centered on the person and work of Jesus.

Now, there are several aspects of Christ’s person and work that ground our eschatological reflections. First, as I’ve already noted, Jesus is the Risen Lord. In other words, if eschatology begins with resurrection (and it does), then because Jesus has already been raised from the dead, the future has already broken into the present. We have been spiritually raised with Christ to walk in newness of life, and one day, we will be raised physically to walk hand in hand with him in glory. Second, and this has already been noted as well, but Jesus is the Reigning King. After his resurrection, he ascended into heaven to be seated at the right hand of the Father where he is currently reigning in glory. In this sense, the Kingdom is not merely a future reality; it is present now as he reigns over his people by his Spirit through his Word. He is coming again to reign on earth, but his present enthronement should shape our expectations. Third, Jesus is the Coming Judge. In other words, the final judgment is not some abstract threat. No, it is a personal reality that is tied to Christ authority. As the ancient creeds confess, he is coming to judge the living and the dead. The judge is the crucified and risen Christ. And finally, Jesus is the Center of Restoration. Or to put it another way, the new creation is not a system reset, it is the union that we now have with Christ being finally fulfilled on earth as it is in heaven. My point is that every eschatological hope—resurrection, judgment, kingdom, restoration—finds its coherence in the person of Jesus.

So, rather than asking “when is the rapture?” or “what is the millennium?”, we should be asking questions like, “What does Jesus’s resurrection mean for the future?”, “What does his kingship imply about the present?”, and “What does his return reveal about judgment and restoration?” These are not different questions so much as they are better-ordered questions. They move us away from speculative sequencing and toward theological reflection on the person and work of Christ. In other words, the question is not first what happens next, but what does Jesus’ work mean for what happens next? This shift in emphasis reorients the entire task of eschatology. It forces us to begin not with a timeline but with an event—the death and resurrection of Jesus—and to interpret the future in light of that reality. It reminds us that the resurrection is not merely a past miracle, but the decisive intrusion of the future into the present, the beginning of the end itself. Likewise, the present reign of Christ is not an abstract theological claim, but the governing reality that shapes how we understand the present age. And his return is not simply the final item on a prophetic chart, but the personal culmination of God’s redemptive purposes in the world. When we ask our eschatological questions in this way, Christ is no longer assumed in the background—he stands at the center.

This is not just some theological word game; this change has direct pastoral and theological payoff. Most importantly, it grounds our hopes for the future in a person and not in a system. This is our “blessed hope, the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ.” (Titus 2.13) We don’t have to have all the details figured out down to a T, so to speak; we simply have to trust in the one who has promised to make all things new. More than this, though, it produces stability in the midst of disagreement. The disagreements among eschatological systems are myriad, but in theory, we can all agree that Christ stands at the center of the eschatological program. I would go as far as to say that we must agree on this, as a matter of Christian orthodoxy. Our common hope in Christ should unify believers across all our eschatological differences. Our eschatology should bring us together not drive us apart. And finally, this reorientation in our eschatological reflection centers us on questions of discipleship rather than speculation. By focusing on Christ and his work, we are better able to wait patiently and faithfully as he has commanded us, instead of worrying about the details. The point is that the doctrines of eschatology are not meant to produce anxiety about the future, but confidence in the One who holds it.

Ultimately, the end times are all about Jesus. This may sound cliché, but it is the biblical emphasis. The New Testament does not give space to unnecessary speculations about the end times or invite us to lose ourselves in the details of timelines and sequences. Rather, every eschatological vision must revolve around the person and work of Jesus Christ. He is the one who is coming back to make all things new. He is the one who is coming back to receive us unto himself, that where he is there we may be also. He is the one who is coming back to set us free from the presence of sin once and for all and to bring God’s redemptive purposes to their final fulfillment. And so, the end of all things is not a timeline to decode, but a person to behold—the crucified, risen, and reigning Christ.


On Training in Godliness

TEXT

6 If you point these things out to the brothers and sisters, you will be a good servant of Christ Jesus, nourished by the words of the faith and the good teaching that you have followed. 7 But have nothing to do with pointless and silly myths. Rather, train yourself in godliness. 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. 9 This saying is trustworthy and deserves full acceptance. 10 For this reason we labor and strive, because we have put our hope in the living God, who is the Savior of all people, especially of those who believe.

~1 Timothy 3.14-16

Title: On Our Training for Godliness
Text: 1 Timothy 4.6-10
Series: 1 Timothy: God’s Design for a Healthy Church
Church: Redeemer Baptist Church, Jonesboro, AR
Date: October 19, 2025


On Jesus was Born to Reign

TEXT

26 In the sixth month, the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, 27 to a virgin engaged to a man named Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. 28 And the angel came to her and said, “Greetings, favored woman! The Lord is with you.” 29 But she was deeply troubled by this statement, wondering what kind of greeting this could be. 30 Then the angel told her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. 31 Now listen: You will conceive and give birth to a son, and you will name him Jesus. 32 He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give him the throne of his father David. 33 He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and his kingdom will have no end.”

34 Mary asked the angel, “How can this be, since I have not had sexual relations with a man?” 35 The angel replied to her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. Therefore, the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God. 36 And consider your relative Elizabeth—even she has conceived a son in her old age, and this is the sixth month for her who was called childless. 37 For nothing will be impossible with God.” 38 “See, I am the Lord’s servant,” said Mary. “May it happen to me as you have said.” Then the angel left her.

Title: On Jesus was Born to Reign
Text: Isaiah 9.6-7, Luke 1. 26-38, Matthew 2.1-12, Revelation 11.15-19
Series: Promises Fulfilled
Church: Redeemer Baptist Church, Jonesboro, AR
Date: December 29, 2024


On Apocalyptic Eschatology and Christian Theology

In a frequently repeated statement, Ernst Käsemann famously said that “Apocalyptic was the mother of all Christian theology.” Not as well-known is that two years later, Käsemann clarified what he actually meant by “apocalyptic”: for him, it referred to “eschatology,” or in his words, “the expectation of an imminent Parousia.” Personally, I would define apocalyptic eschatology a bit more broadly. Apocalyptic eschatology is the belief that this present age is irredeemably corrupted by sin, that God is coming to intervene in a final judgment on the wicked, and that at that time he will vindicate the righteous and deliver them into a new of age of eschatological salvation that is both personal in the sense of resurrection and cosmic in the sense of renewal. The question remains, however, as to how this perspective might rightly be considered to be the “mother of all Christian theology,” and in the space that remains, I would simply like to offer a few brief explanations for this claim.

First, apocalyptic eschatology revolves around the final, climactic visitation of God to the earth. In the Old Testament, this visitation was often referred to as “the Day of the Lord.” In fact, there were many “days of the Lord” in the Old Testament, all of which function as typological portends of the final Day of the Lord when God comes in eschatological glory and power. Christian theology believes that this final Day of the Lord began when God came to earth in the incarnate Lord Jesus Christ. He was to be called Emmanuel, which is translated “God with us.” (Matthew 1.23). And the Lord Jesus himself said of Jerusalem, “you did not recognize the time when God visited you.” (Luke 19.44) This is exactly the point, namely that the coming of Christ in his incarnation was the beginning of the apocalyptic visitation of God to the earth. Of course, we know that He is coming again in glory and power to bring to consummation that which he began in His first coming, but the point here is that in Christ, God himself came in climactic apocalyptic visitation.

And this brings me to the second reason why apocalyptic eschatology is the mother of all Christian theology, namely that the first coming of Christ to the earth as a baby in a manger marked the beginning of the end of this corrupt present age. In New Testament theology, this is commonly referred to as the already and the not yet, namely that God’s plan for the final redemption of his people has already begun in Christ but it is not yet complete. Consequently, we live in this in between time of already and not yet, already saved, already filled with the eschatological spirit, already living under the blessings of God’s eschatological salvation in part, but we await the time when Christ will come again to consummate, or to bring to completion, that which he began by his death, resurrection and ascension. This is why Peter, in his Pentecost sermon, can say, “And it will be in the last days, says God, that I will pour out my Spirit on all people.” (Acts 2.17). The underlined phrase marks a change that Peter has applied to his source text (Joel 2.28), which simply says, “After this.” Peter understood that in Christ the last days had begun, and we have been living “in the [apocalyptic] last days” now for 2000 years.

But what about the final judgment of the wicked? Isn’t this something that is still yet future? How can we say that the apocalyptic judgment of the wicked began in Christ at his first coming? The answer is that this is exactly what we must say, as Jesus says in John 12.31-32, “Now is the judgment of this world. Now the ruler of this world will be cast out. As for me, if I am lifted up from the earth I will draw all people to myself.” The verb here, “lift up”, means to lift up on high, to exalt, or to raise to dignity and honor. This is why it is so ironic that John goes on to add the explanatory note, “He said this to indicate what kind of death he was about to die.” (John 12.33) The death of Jesus on the cross is nothing less than his enthronement. By his death, he judges the wickedness of this world and its ruler; He exposes the sinfulness and the ultimate fate of those that would reject him. This is why we can say that the final judgment began in Jesus, because a person’s response to the crucified and risen Christ will determine their eternal fate. In the death of Christ, judgment has begun, and it will be meted out when “the lamb who was slain,” as the Revelation calls him, returns in glory and power.

Finally, apocalyptic eschatology is the mother of all Christian theology because in Christ eschatological salvation has come. Salvation is inherently and irreducibly an eschatological concept. Saved from what, we might ask? We are saved from the eschatological wrath of God toward sin. And in Christ this salvation has broken into this present age and been made available to all those who respond to Christ in faith. This is why Peter refers to Joel’s prophecy to explain the coming of the Spirit at Pentecost, as we saw above. We have been filled with the eschatological Spirit, the seal and sign of the new age. We are new creatures, the fruit of a new creation, in Christ because of the Spirit. This is why the Apostle Paul can say, “Blessed is the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us with every spiritual blessing in the heavens in Christ.” (Ephesians 1.3) Every spiritual blessing, every blessing of the age to come is already ours in Christ. We have been saved. We are being saved. And we will be saved. Apocalyptic salvation has already begun in Christ, and we are partakers of it by His indwelling Spirit.

So, I agree with the sentiments of Ernst Käsemann as expressed above. Apocalyptic eschatology is the mother of all Christian theology, because in Christ the apocalyptic visitation of God has come. All of the rest of our theology must be derived from this point, that the climactic work of God for the salvation of His people and His world has come in Christ. This is the Gospel; this is the good news of our salvation. In Christ, God himself has broken into this present age to redeem his people from their sin and set us free from its bondage, its corruption, even its very presence. And this is why we can have hope.


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