Tag Archives: Christianity

On the Gospel of the Kingdom and the Gospel of Jesus Christ

When Jesus stepped onto the scene in Galilee following the arrest of John the Baptist, he began preaching, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near. Repent and believe the good news!” (Mark 1.15). His message focused on the arrival of the kingdom of God, the fulfillment of Israel’s prophetic hopes, and the call to repentance in light of God’s decisive action in history. Throughout the book of Acts and his epistles, however, the Apostle Paul repeatedly preached the gospel of Jesus Christ. His message emphasized the death and resurrection of Jesus, justification by faith, the forgiveness of sins, and the hope of resurrection. At first glance, these emphases can appear quite different. Jesus seems to proclaim the kingdom, while Paul proclaims Christ. Indeed, some scholars have argued that Paul transformed the original message of Jesus into something fundamentally different, shifting the focus from the kingdom of God to the person of Jesus himself. But are these really two different gospels? Must we choose between the message of Jesus and the message of Paul? It is my contention that the apparent tension disappears when both are understood within the broader framework of biblical eschatology. Far from proclaiming competing messages, Jesus and Paul announce the same good news from different vantage points within the unfolding drama of God’s redemptive plan.

Scholars of the historical Jesus are virtually unanimous in recognizing that the kingdom of God stood at the very center of Jesus’s preaching ministry. For example, in Matthew 4.23, we read, “Now Jesus began to go all over Galilee, teaching in their synagogues, preaching the good news of the kingdom, and healing every disease and sickness among the people.” Or again, in Matthew 24.14, Jesus declares that “this good news of the kingdom will be proclaimed in all the world as a testimony to all nations, and then the end will come.” For Jesus, the kingdom is nothing less than the reign of God breaking into history to accomplish his redemptive purposes. It is the fulfillment of Old Testament prophetic hopes such as those found in Isaiah and Daniel. Isaiah envisioned a time when God would restore his people, forgive their sins, defeat their enemies, and bring salvation to the nations. Daniel likewise anticipated the coming of the Son of Man, to whom would be given an everlasting kingdom that would never pass away. These hopes converge in the preaching of Jesus. The kingdom involves the liberation and vindication of God’s people, the defeat of evil, the forgiveness of sins, and the establishment of God’s righteous rule over all creation. In other words, Jesus did not merely announce a message of individual personal salvation; he announced the arrival of God’s long-promised reign and the fulfillment of Israel’s eschatological hope.

However, it is important to remember that Jesus never separates the kingdom from himself. He is the one true and rightful king, God’s anointed Messiah, and wherever the king is, there the kingdom stands. This is why Jesus could say to the Pharisees, when they asked him about the coming of the kingdom, “For you see, the kingdom of God is in your midst” (Luke 17.21). The kingdom was in their midst because the King himself stood among them. In other words, the kingdom is inseparable from the identity and mission of Jesus. This reality is evident throughout the Gospels. In the Son of Man sayings, Jesus identifies himself as the one who will receive dominion and an everlasting kingdom in fulfillment of Daniel 7. Likewise, in the kingdom parables, the growth and consummation of the kingdom are tied directly to his own ministry and mission. The same connection appears in the triumphal entry, where Jesus deliberately presents himself as Israel’s promised king, and again at the Last Supper, where he speaks of the coming kingdom in the context of his impending death. Far from being an unfortunate interruption of the kingdom program, the cross stands at its very center. Jesus understood that God’s reign would be established through his suffering, resurrection, and exaltation. The kingdom does not arrive apart from the King; it comes precisely through the saving work of the King himself.

This is precisely where the Apostle Paul enters into the discussion. Throughout his missionary ministry and epistles, Paul repeatedly proclaimed the good news of Christ’s saving work. In 1 Corinthians 15, he summarizes the gospel in its most basic form: Christ died for our sins, Christ was buried, Christ was raised on the third day, and Christ appeared to many witnesses (1 Cor. 15.1–8). At first glance, this emphasis on the death and resurrection of Jesus may appear quite different from Jesus’s proclamation of the kingdom of God. However, such a conclusion overlooks the fundamentally royal character of Paul’s gospel. Paul is not merely interested in what Christ accomplished; he is equally concerned with who Christ is. Again and again, he identifies Jesus as the promised Son of David, the Messiah, and the exalted Lord. For example, in Romans 1, Paul describes the gospel as being “concerning his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord, who was a descendant of David according to the flesh and was appointed to be the powerful Son of God according to the Spirit of holiness by the resurrection of the dead” (Rom. 1.3–4). Notice the royal language. Jesus is the Davidic king promised in the Old Testament, and his resurrection is the moment of his public vindication and enthronement. The point, then, is that Paul’s gospel is not less concerned with the kingdom than Jesus’s gospel. Rather, Paul focuses on the King through whom God’s kingdom has been established and through whom its blessings are now extended to the nations.

But the question remains: why the difference in emphasis? Why do Jesus and Paul sound so different in their proclamation of the gospel? The answer is that they stand at different points within the unfolding drama of redemptive history. The earthly ministry of Jesus occurs before the cross, before the resurrection, and before the ascension. He ministered primarily among Jews in Galilee and Judea, and therefore proclaimed a message that resonated deeply with Israel’s scriptural hopes and expectations. His preaching announced that the kingdom of God was at hand and that the promises spoken by the prophets were beginning to find their fulfillment. In other words, Jesus proclaimed what God was about to accomplish through his own person and work. Paul, by contrast, preached after these events had already occurred. He knew the crucified and risen Christ not merely as a future hope, but as a historical reality. Having encountered the exalted Lord on the road to Damascus, Paul devoted his ministry to explaining the significance of Christ’s death, resurrection, and exaltation for both Jews and Gentiles. Thus, Jesus announces the arrival of the kingdom, while Paul explains how that kingdom was established through the saving work of its King. The difference, then, is not one of substance but of historical perspective. Jesus proclaims the fulfillment that is coming; Paul proclaims the fulfillment that has come.

Of course, Paul is fully aware of the reality and significance of the kingdom of God. In fact, kingdom language appears throughout both his preaching and his letters. For example, in Colossians 1.13, he writes that God “has rescued us from the domain of darkness and transferred us into the kingdom of the Son he loves.” Notice that for Paul the kingdom is not merely a future hope; it is a present reality into which believers have already been brought through their union with Christ. Likewise, when Paul arrives in Rome at the end of Acts, Luke tells us that “from dawn to dusk he expounded and testified about the kingdom of God” (Acts 28.23), and concludes the book by describing Paul as “proclaiming the kingdom of God and teaching about the Lord Jesus Christ” (Acts 28.31). Significantly, Luke treats these two subjects as complementary rather than contradictory. The same pattern appears in 1 Corinthians 15.24–28, where Paul describes the consummation of history as the moment when Christ delivers the kingdom to the Father so that God may be all in all. The point is that Paul never abandoned kingdom theology; rather, he interpreted the kingdom through the death, resurrection, exaltation, and future return of Jesus. For Paul, the kingdom remains central because the King remains central.

In the final analysis, then, we can say that Jesus announced the kingdom, while Paul explained how that kingdom was established through the person and work of Christ. Jesus proclaimed its arrival; Paul proclaimed its accomplishment. Yet beneath these differing emphases lies a profound theological unity. Both Jesus and Paul understood God’s saving work as the fulfillment of Israel’s long-awaited hopes. Both proclaimed the reign of God breaking into history to accomplish redemption. Both understood forgiveness of sins, salvation for the nations, and the resurrection of the dead as essential features of God’s eschatological plan. The difference is not that Jesus preached one gospel and Paul another, but that each proclaimed the same gospel from a different vantage point within the unfolding drama of redemption. Jesus announced that the kingdom had drawn near because the King had arrived. Paul proclaimed that the kingdom had been inaugurated because the King had died, risen, and been exalted to the right hand of God. Thus, the gospel of the kingdom and the gospel of Jesus Christ are not rival messages but complementary perspectives on the same redemptive reality. To separate the kingdom from the King is to misunderstand Jesus, and to separate the King from the kingdom is to misunderstand Paul. Both stand together in proclaiming the fulfillment of God’s promises in Christ.

Ultimately, this discussion reminds us of the profound unity of the New Testament witness. Too often, Jesus and Paul are set against one another, as though they were proclaiming different messages or pursuing different theological agendas. Yet the testimony of the New Testament is remarkably consistent. The God who promised to establish his reign through Israel’s Messiah has done exactly that in the person of Jesus Christ. The kingdom that Jesus announced is the same kingdom that Paul proclaimed, and the salvation that Paul explained is the same salvation that Jesus came to accomplish. Rather than forcing a choice between the message of Jesus and the message of Paul, we should allow each to illuminate the other. When we do, we discover a single gospel centered on a single Savior, through whom God is fulfilling his promises and reconciling the world to himself.


On Whispers of Revolution: A Book Review

Bird, Michael F. Bird. Whispers of Revolution: Jesus and the Coming of God as King. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2025.

When we confess that Christ is King, we are tapping into a longing that goes back to the very beginning of creation. Adam and Eve were placed in the garden of Eden to serve as God’s vice-regents, to rule and to establish his dominion in the world. Of course, our first parents failed when they succumbed to the deceptions of the serpent, and from that point on, the story of the Bible revolves around God’s plan to reestablish his dominion in the world. In a new book entitled Whispers of Revolution: Jesus and the Coming of God as King, Michael F. Bird applies this lens to the person and work of Jesus of Nazareth. Bird is Deputy Principle and Lecturer in Theology at Ridley College, Melbourne, and he is the author of over 30 books, including the award winning The Gospel of Lord: How the Early Church Wrote the Story of Jesus. In this book, Bird argues that Jesus was driven by the conviction that through his words and work, through his mission and message, God was unveiling his kingship in a way that would rescue Israel and eventually restore the whole world.

Bird’s essential thesis is that the life and ministry of Jesus is best understood within the context of Jewish restoration eschatology. Jewish restoration eschatology is simply the hope that one day God would bring an end to Israel’s exile, restore their national and spiritual life as his people, and through them bring the nations into submission under his rule. This hope is grounded in the visions of the canonical prophets, and it serves as the foundation for the theology and worldview of Second Temple Judaism. For Bird, this worldview “provides the key to understanding Jesus’ mission, aims, self-understanding and hope.” (56) With this lens in view, then, Bird goes on to walk through the Gospel accounts to show how the details of the Jesus earthly ministry fit within this framework. Along the way he discusses topics such as, the birth and early life of Jesus, Jesus’ self-understanding of himself as Messiah, his teaching about the Kingdom of God and other topics, his interactions with his contemporaries, his’ last days in Jerusalem, and his death and resurrection. In all of this, God is coming, coming as king. He concludes, “Jesus himself started the whisper of this revolution, one involving a reordering of power, Israel’s regathering, the redemption of the Jews, the defeat of Satan, and the renewal of creation.” (300) However, this good news could not remain a whisper; it had to be shared, repeated, declared, argued, and even shouted afar. And this is exactly what Jesus instructed his followers to do.

In terms of strengths, Bird is particularly helpful when he is discussing the place of historical Jesus studies in relation to New Testament Theology. After all, Jesus did not write any of the books that we have included in the NT canon. Technically, the NT Documents are written about him, but none of them were actually written by him. So, we may rightly speak of the theology of Matthew or Luke or Mark or John, but can we also speak of the theology of Jesus himself? Bird suggests that the study of the historical Jesus is a necessary prolegomena o our study of NT theology. Jesus is the church’s primal theologian, and it is his teaching, his ministry, his life and death that stands at the heart of the New Testament. Therefore, we cannot simply relegate historical Jesus studies to the domain of historians alone; no, the study of historical Jesus is a fundamental component of the theologians toolbox when it comes to understanding the theology of Paul or John or Matthew or Peter or James. Bird writes, “Jesus was the first theologian of the Jesus movement, and his is the creative mind behind so much of the church’s generative tradition.” (15-16) This means that the theology of the NT should find its impetus, not exclusively but at least initially, on the lips of Jesus of Nazareth. He goes on to write that, “the study of the historical Jesus is a reminder that the ‘word became flesh’.” (17). In other words, if we truly believe that our faith in grounded in the historical realities of Jesus life and ministry, death and resurrection, then we must give the study of the historical Jesus its proper place when it comes to understanding the New Testament.

One minor reservation that I have concerns Bird’s relatively frequent appeal to the Gospel of Thomas. Thomas is a mid-to-late second-century sayings collection comprising 114 logia attributed to Jesus, many of which exhibit clear literary and thematic dependence upon Synoptic tradition. While some scholars continue to argue that Thomas may preserve independent and possibly early Jesus traditions, the case for its independence remains highly contested. In numerous instances, the parallels suggest secondary development rather than primitive preservation, and several logia reflect theological trajectories consistent with the emerging Gnostic or proto-Gnostic tendencies. To be clear, Thomas is an important witness to the reception and reinterpretation of Jesus’ sayings in the second century. However, its value for reconstructing the historical Jesus is, in my view, extremely limited. For that reason, Bird’s approximately twenty-two references to Thomas—nearly half the number of his citations of the far more substantial and canonically received Gospel of John—feel somewhat disproportionate. While these references do not materially affect his overall thesis, a more restrained use of Thomas would have strengthened the historiographical clarity of the argument.

Whispers of Revolution is not a fifth gospel but at the same time it is not merely a gospel harmony. It is historically grounded, insightful, and clarifying reconstruction of Jesus within the context of first century Judaism and its hopes for restoration. And insofar as the historical study of Jesus of Nazareth is “indispensable for religious scholarship and the life of Christian faith” (14), Bird’s book is both accessible and academically rigorous. It will be a great benefit both to lay Christians who want to understand Jesus and the gospels better and to scholars who are looking for a clear and coherent understanding of Jesus to which they can correlate their own work. And so, I would gladly recommend this book, and if I were ever to teach a course on the life of Jesus or the Gospels, I would require it for my students. When Jesus was with his disciples at Caesarea Philippi, he asked them, “Who do people say that I am?”, and then, more importantly, he asked them, “Who do you say that I am?” This is the fundamental question we must all be able to answer. Bird has answered it: Jesus was a messianic prophet of Jewish restoration in fulfillment Old Testament hopes. While Jesus was certainly more than this, he was certainly not less, and Whispers of Revolution is a great book for those who want to understand the life and times, the ministry and message of Jesus as he himself might have understood it.


On Jesus and His Promised Second Coming: A Book Review

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!”


On the Beauty of the Church’s Worship

Several months ago, Matthew Barrett, then a professor at Midwestern Baptist Theological Seminary, announced that he was leaving the SBC to become Anglican. Shortly thereafter, he took a position as Research Professor of Theology at Trinity Anglican Seminary, and he and his family joined St. Aidan’s Anglican Church in Kansas City. He detailed his reasons for making this change in an article on his blog/newsletter, Anselm House. Basically, he suggests that the SBC “officially rejected” Nicene orthodoxy, that the SBC values image over external (read episcopal) authority, and that the “baptist” hermeneutic is ultimately individualistic in its rejection of infant baptism. Though I find these criticisms to be greatly flawed and wholly inaccurate as representations of Baptist theology and ecclesiology, it is not my purpose to respond to them here. This has already been done by several others who are more capable than me. (For example, see Denny Burke’s response here.)

Rather, I would like to respond to another component of Barrett’s argument for Anglicanism, that being the beauty and and antiquity of its liturgy. After giving a rather glowing description of the elements and order of an Anglican worship service, including pictures, he goes on to write, “What a comfort to tell our kids, “The way we are worshipping is how Christians have worshipped across history. It’s really, really old. You are participating in the church universal.”” Now, let me just say that I have no small appreciation for high church liturgy. I have previously written on the use and value of the lectionary, the Christian calendar, and church tradition. I think there is much that modern churches, with their consumeristic performance based, emotion driven worship services, could learn from these practices. However, to say that “Anglicanism is the most beautiful representation of classical Christianity” is surely to place preferences of form over matters of substance.

The fact of the matter is that the early church’s worship was simple; it revolved around Word and Table, fellowship and prayer. As we read in Acts 2.42,  “They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching, to the fellowship, to the breaking of bread, and to prayer.” Beyond this, we simply do not know what worship services in the early church consisted of. We have scattered liturgical details and other descriptions throughout the New Testament, but we do not have an official liturgy for the early church. Did they sing psalms? Probably. Did they read the Scriptures? Definitely. Did they pray together? Likely. Did they observe the ordinances of baptism an the Lord’s Supper? Clearly. Did they recite early kinds of creedal statements? Possibly. Of course, as the church grew, more formal liturgies were understandably developed, especially in the second and third centuries, and by the fourth century, there seems to have been a common or shared understanding of what the worship of the church should include and how it should progress. But, contrary to Dr. Barrett’s claim above, there is simply no proof that the Anglican liturgy is “how Christians have worshipped across history.” No doubt there are many similarities, but there is likely just as many differences that vary across place and time.

However, the more basic point that needs to be underscored here, I believe, is that the church’s worship, no matter what form or style it is expressed in, is beautiful. When God’s people gather together to sing His praise, to hear from His Word, to intercede in prayer for one another, to commemorate the Gospel is baptism and eucharist, there is simply nothing that is more beautiful, nothing more majestic, nothing more glorious. The voices of the saints singing and praying and confessing and expositing the great works of God in Christ as one gathered and united body in the Spirit is the most beautiful thing in this world. Of course, as I noted above, this beauty has sadly been lost in many churches today; we have turned the church’s worship into a show. We have exchanged beauty for spectacle, truth for emotion, participation for entertainment, and this is especially so in churches that do not come stand in the line of high church traditions. But, the point is that it is narrow minded and arrogant to suggest that one particular form or tradition of worship is the most beautiful, the most ancient, the most formation to the exclusion of all others.

In the Book of Revelation, John writes, “After this I looked, and there was a vast multitude from every nation, tribe, people, and language, which no one could number, standing before the throne and before the Lamb” (Revelation 7.9). This vision of the diversified and redeemed people of God standing before the heavenly throne praising God should help us to understand the beauty of the church’s worship. We do not all sing with one voice, we do not all worship in the same way. Every tradition, every culture, every community has its own way of worshiping God, and this is beautiful. The glory of God in Christ cannot be wholly encapsulated in just one worship tradition, but wherever there are genuine believers who are gathered together to worship God in Spirit an truth, this is beautiful. Every church has its own liturgy, whether it be formal or informal, but when we prioritize the form of our worship over the object of our worship, then we have missed the mark. Christ is the focus of our worship, there is no way that we could ever find enough ways to magnify and exult in His glory.


On the Priorities of the Gospel

TEXT

21 After these events, Paul resolved by the Spirit to pass through Macedonia and Achaia and go to Jerusalem. “After I’ve been there,” he said, “It is necessary for me to see Rome as well.” 22 After sending to Macedonia two of those who assisted him, Timothy and Erastus, he himself stayed in Asia for a while.

23 About that time there was a major disturbance about the Way. 24 For a person named Demetrius, a silversmith who made silver shrines of Artemis, provided a great deal of business for the craftsmen. 25 When he had assembled them, as well as the workers engaged in this type of business, he said, “Men, you know that our prosperity is derived from this business. 26 You see and hear that not only in Ephesus, but in almost all of Asia, this man Paul has persuaded and misled a considerable number of people by saying that gods made by hand are not gods. 27 Not only do we run a risk that our business may be discredited, but also that the temple of the great goddess Artemis may be despised and her magnificence come to the verge of ruin—the very one all of Asia and the world worship.”

28 When they had heard this, they were filled with rage and began to cry out, “Great is Artemis of the Ephesians!” 29 So the city was filled with confusion, and they rushed all together into the amphitheater, dragging along Gaius and Aristarchus, Macedonians who were Paul’s traveling companions. 30 Although Paul wanted to go in before the people, the disciples did not let him. 31 Even some of the provincial officials of Asia, who were his friends, sent word to him, pleading with him not to venture into the amphitheater. 32 Some were shouting one thing and some another, because the assembly was in confusion, and most of them did not know why they had come together. 33 Some Jews in the crowd gave instructions to Alexander after they pushed him to the front. Motioning with his hand, Alexander wanted to make his defense to the people. 34 But when they recognized that he was a Jew, they all shouted in unison for about two hours, “Great is Artemis of the Ephesians!”

35 When the city clerk had calmed the crowd down, he said, “People of Ephesus! What person is there who doesn’t know that the city of the Ephesians is the temple guardian of the great Artemis, and of the image that fell from heaven? 36 Therefore, since these things are undeniable, you must keep calm and not do anything rash. 37 For you have brought these men here who are not temple robbers or blasphemers of our goddess. 38 So if Demetrius and the craftsmen who are with him have a case against anyone, the courts are in session, and there are proconsuls. Let them bring charges against one another. 39 But if you seek anything further, it must be decided in a legal assembly. 40 In fact, we run a risk of being charged with rioting for what happened today, since there is no justification that we can give as a reason for this disturbance.” 41 After saying this, he dismissed the assembly.

~Acts 19.21-41

Title: On the Priorities of the Gospel
Text: Acts 19.21-41
Series: The Book of Acts
Church: Redeemer Baptist Church, Jonesboro, AR
Date: October 20, 2024


On Resurrection and De-dustification

It is common in Biblical studies to suggest that the doctrine of the resurrection is a late development in Old Testament theology. Of course, the clearest Old Testament affirmation of this belief is found in Daniel 12.2, where we read, “Many who sleep in the dust of the earth will awake, some to eternal life, and some to disgrace and eternal contempt.” While the dating of Daniel is a much debated question, this verse certainly stands as a clear affirmation of the doctrine of a general resurrection possibly from as early as the exilic period. But is it possible that the doctrine of resurrection has a much longer presence in the Old Testament. I would suggest that it does, and I would base this suggestion, at least in part, on the words of David in Psalm 16, verse 10, where we read, “For you will not abandon me to Sheol; you will not allow your faithful one to see decay.” In this psalm, David is  seeking divine protection because he has remained loyal to God, and he is praising God for his rich blessings with full confidence God will vindicate him and deliver him from death.

Now, this particular verse is quoted twice in the in the Book of Acts in defense of the resurrection of Jesus, once by Peter in Acts 2.27, and once again by Paul in Acts 13.35. Of course, their appeal to this verse raises all kinds of questions regarding the interpretive methods of Luke and the other apostles, but suffice it to say here that there is no need to suggest that they have misinterpreted it. They haven’t read something into it that wasn’t actually there in the first place. No, they have rightly understood the implications of David’s words, and by way of typological prediction, they have applied these words to the Messianic Son of David, Jesus the Christ. David genuinely believed that that God could and would deliver him even from death, so while the doctrine of resurrection is not spelled out explicitly, we have ample reason to believe that David held some conception of physical life after death. This is why he says, “you will not allow your faithful one to see decay.”

However, Peter’s explanation here deserves our attention. In Acts 2.29, he says, “Brothers and sisters, I can confidently speak to you about the patriarch David: He is both dead and buried, and his tomb is with us to this day.” Likewise, Paul explains similarly in Acts 13.36-37, “For David, after serving God’s purpose in his own generation, fell asleep, was buried with his fathers, and decayed, but the one God raised up did not decay.” Jesus was only in the grave for three days; there simply wasn’t enough time for his physical body to see decay. But David’s bones turned to dust a long time ago, as it is written, “All are going to the same place; all come from dust, and all return to dust.” (Ecclesiastes 3.20) This dusty fate is part of God’s curse on human sin, as we read in Genesis 3.19, “For you are dust, and you will return to dust.” It is a fate that awaits us all. So, we must ask the question: was David wrong in his expectation that his body would not see decay? Was he wrong in his hope for a bodily resurrection?

The answer to these questions must be a resounding, “May it never be.” David was not wrong to believe that God could and would deliver him even from the depths of death itself, and even though his physical body has long returned to the dust from whence it came, one day, his body will be raised new, perfectly whole and completely glorified. This is the hope of resurrection; it is the hope of de-dustification. As the Apostle Paul writes in Romans 8.11, “And if the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead lives in you, then he who raised Christ from the dead will also bring your mortal bodies to life through his Spirit who lives in you.” Or again, in Philippians 3.21, “He will transform the body of our humble condition into the likeness of his glorious body, by the power that enables him to subject everything to himself.” If God can create man from the dust and breath the breath (the Hebrew word is the same word sometimes translated Spirit) of life into him so that he becomes a living soul, then he can certainly raise our bodies from the dust and give them eternal physical life by His Spirit.

In other words, far from being some late postulate in Old Testament theology, the idea of resurrection has a long standing place in Old Testament thought. It goes back at least to the time of David and the monarchy, some 1000 years before the time of Daniel and the exile, and it possibly goes back farther than that (but that is a topic for another time.) The point here is simply the Christian hope, nay, the biblical hope, is for nothing less than the perfected glory of bodily resurrection. As Jesus himself says, “a time is coming when all who are in the graves will hear his voice and come out—those who have done good things, to the resurrection of life, but those who have done wicked things, to the resurrection of condemnation.” (John 5.28-29) Maranatha!

For further study, see:
On the Logic of the Resurrection
On Christian Hope: Heaven or Resurrection
On Resurrection and the Path of Glory

See also,
Chase, Mitchell L. Resurrection Hope and the Death of Death. Short Studies in Biblical Theology. Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2022.


On Historical Context in Galatians

It has been said on more than one occasion that “A text without a context is a pretext for a prooftext.” The point is that faithful bible reading must take the historical and literary context of the text into consideration. God spoke through real people living real lives with real questions, and in order to understand His Word, we must read it on its own terms, that is to say we must seek to understand it as it would have been understood by its intended audience. We must put ourselves into their shoes, so to speak, and look at things through their eyes. Then, and only then, will we be able to draw the parallel applications that transform our own lives. However, in the academic study of the New Testament, historical reconstructions of the life and times of the biblical audience can sometimes feel overly speculative and somewhat disconnected from the actual text. This is why, no matter how sophisticated our historical reconstruction may be, we must ask the question, “How does this help me to understand the text better?,” because at the end of the day, biblical studies is an irreducibly textual endeavor.

I recently had this point reiterated to me by a brother who is preparing to teach Paul’s Letter to the Galatians in our adult Sunday school class. Of course, the basic situation in Galatians is pretty straightforward. The newly converted Gentile Christians in Galatia are facing social and theological pressure from a group of Jewish “Christians” to be circumcised, so that they can truly be part of God’s (Jewish) people. This is a position that the Apostle Paul simply will not countenance under any circumstances; in fact, he condemns it outright in some of the harshest language in all of the New Testament. “As we have said before, I now say again: If anyone is preaching to you a gospel contrary to what you received, a curse be on him!” (1.9) Of course, Paul goes on in the letter to give historical and theological arguments against the position in question in chapters 3-4, and then he uses chapters 5-6 to emphasize those virtues and habits of character that truly distinguish someone as belonging to the people of God. In other words, the message of the letter is pretty clear.

However, we must ask whether or not this is all way can say about the situation in Galatians, particularly as this relates to chapters 1-2 and their relationship with the events in Acts 9-15. In these first two chapters, Paul gives a brief history of his own salvation and his relationship with the Jerusalem church; his point is that his gospel is not based on the traditions of men, but on the supernatural revelation of God himself in the person of Christ on the Damascus road. But the correspondence between Paul’s testimony and the events in Acts is less than clear to say the least. Of course, there are some that would say that the two are inherently incompatible, and to attempt any kind of combined reconstruction is hopeless and probably not even necessary. But for those of us who hold convictions regarding the inerrancy of the Scriptures, this is simply not an option. We must ask questions regarding the text’s larger coherence with the New Testament witness, especially when that text addresses events that are recorded by another author. For example, is the Jerusalem visit that Paul mentions in 2.1-10 to be understood as corresponding his visit at the Jerusalem council as it is recorded in Acts 15, or is it the famine visit that is mentioned in Acts 11? Who are these “men from James” (2.12), and what is the purpose of their visit in Antioch? Are they part of the circumcision party? Why would Peter withdraw from table fellowship from the Gentile Christians after his transformative experience with Cornelius (Acts 10)? And the list could go on.

I don’t have the answers to all of these questions, but in the space that follows, I would like to suggest a brief timeline that attempts to reconcile Galatians 1-2 with the events of Acts 9-15. In academic scholarship, this position is known as the Southern Galatia Theory, and it is associated with names such as F.F. Bruce and Richard Longenecker, to name but a few. In general, this theory posits that the Letter to the Galatians was written around 47-48 AD to the churches that Paul started during his first missionary journey (Acts 13-14) in the southern region of the Roman province of Galatia. The alternative view, known as the Northern Galatia Theory, argues that the Letter to the Galatians was written around 56-57 AD from Ephesus to ethnic Galatians in the north, the former kingdom of Galatia. Due to space considerations, I will not lay out this opposing theory in detail.

The timeline for the Southern Galatia Theory flows as follows: AD 34 – Conversion of Paul (Galatians 1.13-16, Acts 9.1-19), AD 34-37 – Paul in Arabia and Damascus (Galatians 1.17, Acts 9.19-22, 27), AD 37 – Paul visits Jerusalem after three years (Galatians 1.18-20, Acts 9.26-29), AD 37-47 – Paul in Syria and Cilicia (Galatians 1.21-24, Acts 9:30-31), AD 47 – Paul visits Jerusalem after 14 years (Famine Visit) (Galatians 2:1-10, Acts 11.27-30), AD 47-48 – Paul’s first missionary journey (Acts 13:1-14:28), AD 48 – Peter visits Antioch and confronts Peter (Galatians 2:11-14), AD 48 – Paul writes the Letter to the Galatians, AD 49 – Paul speaks at the Jerusalem Council (Acts 15.1-29), AD 49-51 – Paul visits the Galatian churches on his second missionary journey (Acts 16-18), AD 52-57 – Paul’s visits the Galatian churches on his third missionary journey (Acts 19-21).

This theory seems to be the most widely accepted in New Testament scholarship today, but we must return to the initial question of this post, namely, “how does this help me to understand the text better?” Again, this is the fundamental question; no matter how insightful and innovative our reconstruction may be, if it does not shed greater light on the meaning of the text, then it is nothing more than pointless speculation. In particular, I think the early date offered by this theory helps explain the actions of James and Peter in chapter 2. At this point in the history of the early church, the inclusion of the Gentiles was still a relatively new phenomenon. The details were still being worked out in the lives of real people on the frontlines of the church’s ministry. So, yes, even after Peter’s incredible experience with Cornelius, it is still possible for him to waiver under the social pressures of the circumcision party. Perhaps he thought his actions in Antioch would somehow hinder the evangelistic effort among the Jews in Jerusalem.

Moreover, it explains the apparent hesitancy of James and his representatives. Of course, James will go on to give the final argument against the requirement of circumcision at the Jerusalem Council, and he will write the apostolic letter detailing the council’s decision (Acts 15.23-29). But, perhaps at this moment, before the council, he was still considering the question. We don’t know, and we may never know. But for any theory to be considered probable, it must explain the evidence better than all the other possible explanations, and I believe that the Southern Galatia Theory does just that. Moreover, it shows us that the authors of Scripture were real fallible human beings. James, Peter, Paul – they were just ordinary men who God chose to use in extraordinary ways. They didn’t get everything right all the time, but they were “men [who] spoke from God as they were carried along by the Holy Spirit” (2 Peter 1.21), and in so doing, the produced the inerrant words of Holy Scripture. Thanks be to God for His incredible grace!


On the Dead Sea Scrolls and the Reliability of the Bible

One of the most important advances in Biblical Studies in the last 100 years has clearly been the discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls. Thanks to the curiosity of a young Bedouin shepherd, the first scrolls were discovered at Qumran in 1947. Over the next ten years, hundreds of papyrus fragments were found in some eleven caves in the area containing various biblical and extra biblical writings dating from 200 BCE to 100 CE. The general consensus has been that these represent the religious views of a sect of early Judaism known as the Essenes, known previously only through the writings of Josephus. Over the past 50 years, the study of these scrolls has provided valuable insight in the religious thought world of Jesus, Paul, and the first Christians, and comparative studies are now basically the norm in New Testament monographs and the other academic publications.

In this post, I am not interested in the content of the Dead Sea Scrolls, as fascinating as the material may be; I am more interested in the textual transmission of the scrolls, particularly as that might be compared to the textual transmission of the biblical text. It is truly a wonder of God’s providence that the Dead Sea Scrolls were preserved they way that they were. They were likely buried in the caves prior to the Jewish War (66-70 CE), and then subsequently abandoned when the Essene community was destroyed by the Romans. Thanks to the arid and dry climate of the area around the Dead Sea, these scrolls were preserved in glass jars for over 2000 years. However, they do show the signs of their age. They mostly consist of fragmentary pieces, and even the larger documents are missing significant parts due to decay (see the picture above, for one example). This means that translating the scrolls into English for modern study is mostly piecemeal at best. Large portions of the text must be reconstructed through textual emendation and scholarly conjecture, in order to make the text readable and understandable.

For example, one paragraph from The Temple Scroll (11QT) reads,

On the fifteenth day of the month …[the corresponding] grain offering [and drink offering, all on] the altar, an offering by fire, of s[oothing odour to YHWH. On] the second [day:] twelve young bulls, [two rams, four]teen [lambs] and on he-goat [for a sin offerin]g [and the corresponding gr]ai[n-offering and drink-offering] according to the statue concerning the young bulls, the ram[s], the lambs [and] the he-goat; it is an offering by fire, of soothing odour to YHWH.

The braketed text in the quote above indicates where the text has been conjecturally emended and filled in by the translator. The point is that as valuable as the scrolls are, the condition of the text is partial, fragmentary, and dependent on scholarly interpretation and emendation.

By contrast, the textual tradition of the biblical text is far more substantial and stable. The earliest portions of the New Testament that are extant today can be dated to within in a century of the actual writing of the documents themselves, and the earliest complete manuscripts that we have today are removed by only 2 or 3 centuries from the time of the New Testament. Further, we have over 5000 extant manuscript witnesses to the text of the Bible, in addition to ancient versions, liturgies, and quotations in the church fathers. The point is that through the discipline of text criticism (see my post here), we can reconstruct the text of scripture with 99% accuracy, and any questions that do remain are mostly of peripheral concerns and have no bearing on the actual meaning of the text. Unlike the Dead Sea Scrolls, the biblical text is not fragmentary and dependent on emendation; no, it is stable, clear, and firm in it is manuscript foundations.

This then is an even greater wonder of God’s providence as he has preserved His Word throughout the centuries. He has graciously and providentially watched over His Word, and He has not left himself without a witness. This should give us a great amount of confidence and faith in the textual foundations of our faith. The text of the Bible has been preserved and passed down by God’s providence through the ages, so that we might have reliable witness to His revelation of Himself in Christ. Where would we be if the text of the Bible had been hidden in desert caves for over 2000 years? I shudder to think of the possibilities. When we read the Bible, we should give great thanks that God has not left us as blind to grope in the darkness hoping we might find Him. No, he has spoken clearly, firmly, and faithfully, so that we might know Him even as we are known. Thanks be to God!

For further study, see:
Geza Vermes, trans. The Complete Dead Sea Scrolls in English. Revised Edition. London: Penguin Books, 2011.


On the Ascension as a Christian Holiday

According to the Christian calendar, Thursday, May 9, 2024 marked the celebration of our Lord’s ascension, because it marks 40 days after the celebration of His resurrection, which we celebrated on March 31, 2024. (See Acts 1.1-11) But for many Christians, who are not part of more liturgically minded traditions, I would surmise that this “holiday” likely came and went without any fireworks or fanfare. For most folks, it was probably just another Thursday, which like all Thursdays was likely filled with the normal day to day responsibilities of professional and personal life. The question, then, that must be answered here is why celebrate the Ascension at all? Should it be considered a “holiday” on the pale with Christmas and Easter? Or is just another ritualistic trapping of church tradition that has been held over from ages now past? In the space that remains, I would like to suggest that Ascension Day is in fact a Christian “holiday”, because it is an opportunity to reflection on and celebrate another aspect of the person and work of Christ, particularly his session at the right hand of the Father.

Etymologically, the word “holiday” comes from the Old English word hāligdæg, which literally means “holy day”, and it was originally used to refer solely to days that were set aside for religious observance. These original “holy-days” are laid out in in the church’s annual calendar. For more on the traditional Christian calendar, see my post here. The point, however, is that a holiday is first and foremost a time for celebration and reflection on what Christ has done on our behalf. Of course, this significance is mostly all but lost on the secular society in which we now live, but as Christians, we have an opportunity to recover this particular significance, especially on days that otherwise have no cultural significance. I would submit that the Ascension is just such an opportunity.

But it is necessary to ask what an Ascension holiday would even celebrate. Sadly, for most Christians, the ascension of our Lord Jesus is somewhat of an after thought. It pales in significance to other aspects of His work, e.g. crucifixion, resurrection, return. While all of those are primary for understanding the person and work of Christ, the ascension is no less significant for our reflection on what Christ has accomplished for our salvation. The ascension celebrates the enthronement of Christ at the right hand of the Father. It is the fulfillment of the most quoted Old Testament verse in the New Testament, Psalm 110:1, which says “The Lord says to my lord: ‘Sit at my right hand until I make your enemies a footstool for your feet.’” He is now seated at the right hand of God, reigning in power until such a time as He should come again to finally defeat sin and establish His kingdom on earth.

The reality that Jesus is seated at the right hand of God is rich with significance for the devotion, reflection, and worship of Christians today. From this, we understand that Christ intercedes for his people (Hebrews 7:23-25), that he rules over and guides His church (Ephesians 1:20-23), that He will come again to receive us unto Himself (John 14:2-4). The present session of Christ is vital for our understanding of the ongoing ministry of the resurrected Christ, but so many churches, so many Christians for that matter, give it such short shrift. The Ascension holiday calls us back to an understanding of Christian time, to the perspective that all of the cycles and rhythms of life should revolve around the Gospel. Jesus Christ – His person and His work – should stand at the center of Christian living, and holidays like Ascension Day, just like Easter and Christmas, call us to focus on the centrality and necessity of Christ and His work.

Of course, there is no prescribed ritual or formula for observing the Ascension. It could be as simple as a private devotion, giving some time to the reading of relevant biblical texts, to meditation and prayer. On the other hand, it could be observed with a church service dedicated to the theme in which we sing and pray together and hear a sermon on some aspect of its significance. It may mean that someone who is a member of a church that does not observe the holiday looks for a more liturgically oriented church that does. It is perfectly fine to visit and participate in other Christian worship traditions, but, of course, we must use discernment in this. Families could set aside a time for family bible study and worship in which the story and significance of the ascension is related to children or other family members. It could even include the observance of the Lord’s supper, for Jesus promised us, “I will not drink from this fruit of the vine from now on until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father’s kingdom” (Matthew 26.29). And when we observe the Lord’s Supper, we “proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.” (1 Corinthians 11.26)

The point of all this is to say that Ascension Day is another opportunity to extol the worth of Christ Jesus, to proclaim his powerful name, to relish in His sustaining grace that is constantly at work on our behalf. And there simply is no other person in our lives who deserves to be celebrated in this way. We celebrate birthdays, anniversaries, and other Hallmark holidays; these things order our lives. Wouldn’t it be better to order our lives around the person and work of Christ, so that we are constantly reminded of the great salvation in which we share. I think so.

For further study, see:
Schreiner, Patrick. The Ascension of Christ: Recovering a Neglected Doctrine. Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2020.


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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