Tag Archives: Eternal Life
On Messianic Sonship in the Gospel of John
In my previous post, I argued that in the New Testament the title “Son of God” should be understood primarily as royal and messianic before it is understood in fully developed theological terms. However, because of its clear emphasis on the divinity of Jesus, many assume that the Gospel of John moves away from this historical and messianic framework. In this post, I want to suggest that John does not abandon these categories; on the contrary, he deepens them in order to reveal what it truly means for Jesus to be the Messiah. Or to put it another way, John presents Jesus in continuity with Jewish messianic expectations, while also showing that this messianic sonship entails a uniquely intimate and divine relationship with the Father that exceeds what was previously anticipated. The question, then, is not whether John’s understanding of Jesus is messianic, but what kind of messianism he presents.
In his purpose statement, John writes that “these are written so that you may believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God.” Here again, the grammatical construction is significant. The term “Christ” (or “Messiah”) stands in apposition to the phrase “Son of God,” meaning that the two expressions are placed side by side, with one defining or clarifying the other. In this context, to confess Jesus as the Messiah is to confess him as the Son of God. This same connection appears at the beginning of the Gospel of John. In John 1:49, Nathanael declares, “You are the Son of God; you are the King of Israel.” The parallelism in these lines again equates divine sonship with messianic kingship, but more importantly, these two statements function as bookends to the Gospel, framing John’s presentation of Jesus from beginning to end. The point, then, is that John does not abandon the messianic meaning of “Son of God.” Rather, he affirms it at the structural level of his narrative. To believe in Jesus as the Messiah is to believe in him as the Son, and this understanding stands in direct continuity with the Synoptic presentation explored in the previous post.
This same connection appears at the midpoint of the Gospel of John. In the account of Lazarus in John 11, after Jesus declares that he is “the resurrection and the life,” he turns to Martha and asks, “Do you believe this?” She responds, “Yes, Lord; I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, who is coming into the world.” This confession is loaded with Christological significance. Not only does it once again place “Messiah” and “Son of God” in apposition, reinforcing the connection we have already seen, but it also adds a further layer by describing Jesus as “the one who is coming into the world.” This language resonates with broader biblical expectations of a coming deliverer—one who is sent by God and arrives to accomplish his purposes. It echoes themes associated with the coming figure of Daniel 7 and the one who comes in the name of the Lord in Psalm 118. Taken together with John 1:49 and 20:31, this confession strengthens the pattern: to be the Son of God is to be the Messiah, the King of Israel, the one sent into the world. In other words, John clearly preserves and reinforces the traditional messianic categories that were already in circulation.
Of course, conceptions of the Messiah in the literature of Second Temple Judaism were far from uniform. Expectations were diverse and often overlapping rather than monolithic. Some traditions emphasized a royal figure in continuity with the promises to David, drawing on texts like 2 Samuel 7 and Psalm 2, where the Messiah is understood as the anointed king who would rule on God’s behalf. Others envisioned a more prophetic figure, in keeping with the promise of a prophet like Moses in Deuteronomy 18, one who would speak God’s word with unique authority. Still others anticipated a more exalted or even heavenly figure, shaped by texts like Daniel 7, where the “Son of Man” is portrayed as receiving dominion and glory from God himself. The point is not that these expectations were clearly defined or neatly separated, but that Jewish messianism already contained a range of categories capable of accommodating a figure of significant authority and even transcendent status. This is important for reading the Gospel of John. When John presents Jesus in elevated terms, he is not abandoning messianic categories or importing something foreign into the tradition. Rather, he is drawing on a rich and developing matrix of expectation already present within Second Temple Judaism and showing how these strands converge in the person of Jesus.
Now, as I argued in my previous post, in the Synoptic Gospels the idea of sonship is primarily representative. As the Messiah, Jesus stands as God’s appointed ruler on earth, the true king who embodies and fulfills the role that Israel and her kings failed to carry out. But in the Gospel of John, the concept of sonship is taken further. The relationship between the Father and the Son is not merely one of representation, but of participation. That is, the Son does not simply act on God’s behalf; he acts in a way that is inseparably bound up with the Father’s own activity. This is made clear in passages like John 5:19, where Jesus says, “Truly I tell you, the Son is not able to do anything on his own, but only what he sees the Father doing. For whatever the Father does, the Son likewise does these things.” The claim here is remarkable. It is not merely that the Son imitates the Father, but that his actions are perfectly coordinated with and reflective of the Father’s own work. The same idea appears in John 10:30: “I and the Father are one.” In other words, the Son does not merely represent the Father as his agent; he shares in his work in a unique and unparalleled way. This is not a departure from messianic sonship, but a deepening of it—one that begins to press beyond simple representation into a more profound unity between the Father and the Son.
At this point, it is helpful to introduce a category that has received significant attention in recent scholarship, namely the Jewish concept of agency. In the ancient Jewish world, an agent functioned as a representative of the one who sent him. The basic idea was that “the one sent is as the sender,” meaning that the agent could speak and act with the authority of the one who commissioned him. This framework helps explain much of the language in the Gospel of John, especially the repeated emphasis that Jesus is the one “sent” by the Father. He speaks the Father’s words, performs the Father’s works, and carries out the Father’s will. In this sense, Jesus clearly fits within recognizable Jewish categories of agency. And yet, as the Gospel unfolds, it becomes evident that his sonship cannot be fully contained within that framework. Jesus does not merely speak for God; he speaks as one who uniquely knows the Father. He does not simply carry out God’s works; he does what the Father himself does. The point, then, is that while the category of agency is helpful, it is ultimately insufficient. The Son does not merely act on God’s behalf—he acts with God’s authority in a way that is inseparably bound up with the Father himself. In other words, John presents a form of agency that is intensified to the point of revealing something more about the identity of the Son.
According to John, this is precisely why opposition to Jesus intensifies. In John 5:18, we read, “This is why the Jews began trying all the more to kill him: not only was he breaking the Sabbath, but he was even calling God his own Father, making himself equal to God.” This observation is significant because it shows that the implications of Jesus’s claims are drawn from within the narrative itself. John does not import the idea of divine sonship from some external philosophical framework; rather, it emerges organically from the way Jesus speaks about his relationship to the Father. What is particularly striking is that Jesus does not correct this interpretation. Instead, in the verses that follow, he deepens it. He speaks of doing whatever the Father does, of giving life as the Father gives life, and of exercising judgment as the Father does. In other words, the claim to sonship entails participation in divine prerogatives that belong to God alone. The response of his opponents, then, is not a misunderstanding but a recognition of the implications of his words. They perceive that Jesus is not merely claiming to be God’s representative, but is placing himself in a unique relationship of shared authority with God. The point, then, is that in John’s Gospel, messianic sonship presses beyond representation into a form of equality that raises unavoidable questions about the identity of the Son.
And this is why Jesus is uniquely able to reveal the Father. In John 1:18 we read, “No one has ever seen God. The one and only Son, who is himself God and is at the Father’s side—he has revealed him.” There is a well-known textual question here as to whether the verse should read “the only begotten God” or “the only begotten Son.” While the evidence favors the reading “the only begotten God”, what is most striking is that both readings point in the same direction: John is describing a relationship between the Father and the Son that is without parallel. The Son stands in the closest possible relation to the Father—“at his side”—and precisely for that reason he is able to make him known. This is not simply the language of a prophet who speaks on God’s behalf; it is the language of one who knows God from within that relationship. Jesus makes this point explicit in John 14. When Philip asks, “Lord, show us the Father,” Jesus responds, “The one who has seen me has seen the Father.” In other words, the Son does not merely communicate information about God—he reveals him. The Son is uniquely qualified to make the Father known because his identity is inseparably bound up with the Father himself.
As in the Synoptic Gospels, the identity of Jesus as the Son reaches its fullest expression in his death, but in the Gospel of John this moment is framed in a striking way. The crucifixion is not merely suffering; it is glorification. In John 12:32, Jesus says, “As for me, if I am lifted up from the earth I will draw all people to myself.” The language of being “lifted up” carries a deliberate double meaning. On the one hand, it refers to the physical lifting up of Jesus on the cross. On the other, it points to exaltation, to being lifted up in glory. For John, these are not separate events but one and the same reality viewed from different angles. This is confirmed in John 13:31, where, immediately after predicting his betrayal, Jesus declares, “Now the Son of Man is glorified, and God is glorified in him.” In other words, the cross is not a contradiction of Jesus’s identity as the Son—it is its revelation. The glory of his sonship is displayed precisely in his obedience, his self-giving, and his willingness to suffer. The Son is most fully revealed not in avoiding the cross, but in embracing it.
And the resurrection brings this trajectory to its proper conclusion. After seeing the risen Jesus and placing his hands in his wounds, Thomas responds with the climactic confession, “My Lord and my God!” (John 20.28). This is not merely an emotional outburst; it is the narrative’s decisive answer to the question that has been building throughout the Gospel of John: Who is this Jesus who claims to be the Son of God? Thomas’s confession brings together the strands that John has been developing from the beginning. The one who is the Messiah, the Son of God, is also rightly confessed as Lord and God. In this moment, the identity of Jesus is not revised but fully recognized. The resurrection does not introduce something new; it confirms and unveils what has been true all along. As such, the arc of the Gospel reaches its climax in the full acknowledgment of Jesus’s identity, echoing the claims of the opening prologue. The Son who was sent into the world is revealed to be none other than God himself, now seen, known, and confessed in the risen Christ.
So, to bring all of this together, we can now see the full trajectory of the title “Son of God” across the canon. In the Old Testament, sonship is grounded in covenant and kingship. Israel is called God’s son, and the Davidic king is identified as God’s son, functioning as his appointed ruler and representative. In the Synoptic Gospels, this category is sharpened and focused in the person of Jesus, who is confessed as the Messiah, the Son of God—the one who fulfills the role that Israel and her kings failed to carry out. But in the Gospel of John, this messianic sonship is not abandoned; it is brought to its fullest expression. John shows that the Messiah is the Son in a deeper sense than previously expected. The Son does not merely represent God’s rule; he participates in the Father’s work, shares in his authority, and uniquely reveals his identity. In other words, John does not move beyond messianism into something else entirely. Rather, he reveals what messianism was ultimately pointing toward all along. The royal Son of the Old Testament and the messianic Son of the Synoptics find their fullest meaning in the one who is not only God’s appointed king, but the Son who stands in a unique and unparalleled relationship with the Father.
What all of this means, then, is that the confession that Jesus is the Son of God is not merely a doctrinal statement to be affirmed, but a reality to be believed and lived. In the Gospel of John, belief in the Son is consistently tied to life. To believe in him is to receive life, to enter into a relationship with the Father, and to know God as he truly is. This is because the Son is the one who uniquely reveals the Father. He is not simply a messenger who brings information about God; he is the one in whom God is made known. And so to come to the Son is to come to the Father. At the same time, this confession is grounded in the unfolding story of Scripture. The title “Son of God” begins in the Old Testament as a royal and covenantal designation, is sharpened in the Synoptic Gospels as a messianic identity, and is brought to its fullest expression in John, where the Son is revealed in a uniquely intimate and participatory relationship with the Father. To confess Jesus as the Son of God, then, is not only to affirm his role as Messiah, but to recognize him as the one who stands at the very center of God’s redemptive purposes, the one who makes the Father known, and the one in whom we find life.
For further study:
Reynolds, Benjamin E., and Gabriele Boccaccini, eds. Reading the Gospel of John’s Christology as Jewish Messianism: Royal, Prophetic, and Divine Messiahs. Ancient Judaism and Early Christianity. Leiden: Brill, 2018.
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On Christian Hope: Heaven or Resurrection
It is commonplace in American Christianity to hear people talk about going to heaven when they die. For most people, this is the promise of the Gospel, that if you believe in Jesus for the forgiveness of sin and live a morally good and ethical life for the most part, then you will get to go to heaven when you die. This is usually conceptualized as a kind of purely spiritual (nonmaterial, nonphysical) existence of some kind (think halos, harps, and clouds). However, this is a far cry from the biblical picture of eternal life. First, eternal life is not simply a limitless quantity of life that we experience when we die, though it certainly includes this; rather is a certain quality of life, i.e. the life of the messianic age, that we begin to experience even now in part on this side of glory. But, more importantly, the Christian vision for life after death is for a resurrected embodied life. This is a crucial aspect of the biblical understanding of salvation, but it is so often neglected, ignored, or outright denied. And so, since this is the week in which we celebrate the resurrection of our Lord Jesus, I would like to use the space that follows to explore the biblical foundation of the biblical hope for resurrection.
First, we must affirm that human beings were created as composite wholes, that is with a body and a soul. Some theologians would argue for a tripartite division, i.e. body, soul, and spirit, but the point remains the same, namely that the body is essential for what it means to be human. In Genesis, chapter 2, verse 7, we read, “Then the Lord God formed the man out of the dust from the ground and breathed the breath of life into his nostrils, and the man became a living being.” In other words, when the “spirit of life” (the Hebrew word for “breath” can also be translated as “spirit”) entered into the body made of dust, the first man became a living being. Both components were necessary to complete the first man; therefore, to exist as spirit only would be an incomplete, non-human existence. This is why the incarnation was necessary; as the author of Hebrews argues in chapter 10, verse 5 (quoting Psalm 40.6 LXX), “Therefore, as he was coming into the world, he said: You did not desire sacrifice and offering, but you prepared a body for me.” In order to redeem humanity, it was necessary that the Son of God should become fully human, body and soul, and if He was anything less than fully human, then the redemption He secured would be incomplete. Or to put it another way, that which He did not assume, He cannot redeem. And the only way that the body can be redeemed from death is through resurrection.
Of course, this leads right into the second biblical foundation of our resurrection, namely that Jesus Christ was resurrected bodily from the dead. A cursory reading of the Gospel accounts of our Lord’s passion leads to the inescapable conclusion that Jesus died bodily, He was raised bodily, He ascended bodily, and He will return bodily. He was no mere apparition or ghost; He was not some kind of spirit only being that appeared at random. In the Gospel of Luke, we read that Jesus ate with the disciples after His resurrection, both on the road to Emmaus and in the upper room, and in the Gospel of John, we read that He invited Thomas to touch the holes in His hands and in His side. So, while His resurrected body was different in many ways, there was still a corporeal continuity to His bodily existence both before and after His resurrection. Moreover, and perhaps more importantly, the Apostle Paul argues that the physical bodily resurrection of Jesus is the lynchpin of the Gospel. “And if Christ has not been raised, your faith is worthless; you are still in your sins.” (1 Corinthians 15.17) In other words, the bodily resurrection of Jesus was necessary for our salvation to be complete. It was not only necessary for Him to die physically for our sin, but it was also necessary for Him to be raised physically to new life. The bodily resurrection makes His work of redemption complete, and because He has been raised, He is able to offer resurrection life to those who trust in Him.
Consequently, this is the third biblical foundation for the Christian hope of resurrection, namely that the bodily resurrection of Jesus is the ground and promise for the bodily resurrection of those who have trusted in Him. Because He has been raised bodily, we who have trusted in Him will also be raised bodily. This is the inescapable logic of our union with Christ. As the Apostle Paul argues in the Letter to the Romans, chapter 6, verse 5, “For if we have been united with him in the likeness of his death, we will certainly also be in the likeness of his resurrection.” Or again, in 1 Corinthians, chapter 15, verse 20, “But as it is, Christ has been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep.” The fact that He is the “first fruit” necessarily implies that there will be more fruit to come, and it is clear that the fruit Paul is envisioning in this context is the bodily resurrection of those who have been united with Jesus by faith. So, the promise of the Gospel, the Christian hope, is not merely going to heaven when we die; it is nothing less than resurrection from the dead. “For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, in the same way, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have fallen asleep.” (1 Thessalonians 4.14)
So, while the idea of going to heaven when we die sounds nice and comforting, the truth of the matter is that those who ignore or deny the future resurrection of the body really have no hope at all. All they really have is a vague notion of something resembling hope, which is really no better than an empty wish. It has no substance, no grounding in biblical realities at all. Disembodied existence as spirit only is not true life, at least not life the way that God intended it for humanity. God alone is spirit, and we are His creatures. The desire to shed the flesh and exist as pure spirit is a desire that comes from pagan philosophy and not from the Bible. The true biblical Christian hope is far better. It is nothing less than the fullness of embodied life that God always intended for humanity. It is eternal life, resurrected life, in the presence of God forever. In other words, the promise of the Gospel is not so much that we will get to go up to heaven when we die, but that heaven will come down to us when Jesus comes again to establish His kingdom on earth once and for all. This is the blessed hope, the Christian hope.
See also:
Chase, Mitchell L. Resurrection Hope and the Death of Death. Short Studies in Biblical Theology. Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2022.
Wright, N.T. Surprised by Hope: Rethinking Heaven, the Resurrection, and the Mission of the Church. New York, NY: HarperOne, 2008.
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On Eschatology and the Gospel
The study of Eschatology in the church is usually met with two distinct responses. On the one hand, some become so consumed with an over fascination that it drives them to unhealthy speculations, and on the other hand, others are so filled with apathy and distaste that they would rather neglect its doctrines altogether. Recently, I heard about one church that spent eighteen months studying the Book of Revelation, and there is nothing wrong with that per se. However, to the external observer, it could appear as if this subject is more important than the Gospel itself. This is perhaps part of the reason why this area of theological reflection is so often met with such varied and disparate responses; we have failed to demonstrate clearly how these truths are connected to the saving work that God has accomplished in and through His Son, Jesus Christ. We have become so bogged down in controversial matters like tribulations, raptures, millenniums, antichrists, and the like, that we have lost the point that these events bring the promises of the Gospel to completion.
At its core, the Gospel is about how God has solved, is solving, and will solve the problem of sin. Of course, sin is first and foremost a personal individual problem; human beings are corrupted by and enslaved to sin, and because of this, they deserve to spend eternity in hell under the wrath of God. However, in the Gospel, Jesus Christ took upon himself the punishment that we deserve; He died in our place, satisfied the wrath of God, and declared, “It is finished!” Now, by grace through faith in Him, we are forgiven of our sin, clothed in His righteousness, and promised eternal life. But sin is also a cosmic problem, because all of creation has been polluted by and cursed because of sin. As the Scriptures explain,
For the creation eagerly waits with anticipation for God’s sons to be revealed. For the creation was subjected to futility—not willingly, but because of him who subjected it—in the hope that the creation itself will also be set free from the bondage to decay into the glorious freedom of God’s children.
~Romans 8.19-21
In the beginning, when God created the world, all was very good, but with the fall of mankind, sin and its consequences have hopelessly poisoned God’s good creation. This world reeks with the stench of death and decay; where there was once life and beauty, there is now sickness and death. But in the gospel, God is making all things new; he is restoring and recreating the paradise that was lost. In the Book of Revelation, chapters 21-22, we read of a new heaven and new earth which is completely free of sickness and death, heartache and pain, tear and loss. It is a world that is completely free from the stain of sin in every way. It is not just the Garden of Eden restored, it is the Garden of Eden made better.
In other words, the Gospel is inherently and irreducibly eschatological, because not only have we been set free from the penalty of sin, not only are we being set free from the power of sin, but one day we will be set free from the very presence of sin. Until then, we live in the tension of the already but not yet, already forgiven of our sin, already free from sin’s tyranny, but not yet free from its temptations and habituations in our daily lives. We rightly long for the day when the problem of sin and its effects will be no more; this is our blessed hope. And this is why the study of Eschatology should not be viewed as a distraction from the proclamation of the Gospel. On the contrary, the doctrines of Eschatology are so intricately and intimately woven into the fabric of the Gospel, that if we neglect or ignore them, we truncate the Gospel message, empty it of its power, misconstrue the nature of its promises.
This is not to say that the study of Eschatology is always done correctly. Certainly, there are many who have engaged this subject matter in improper or unhealthy ways that have shifted the focus or missed the mark. Eschatology is one of those areas in the study of which it is possible to miss the forest for the trees. There are many details and questions that fall into this category that could become a distraction. However, this does not mean that we should omit the study of it altogether, because Eschatology is fundamentally about hope, the hope of a world free from sin. This is the wonder of our salvation, not only that we have been forgiven of our sin and have received eternal life, but that the work of Christ in salvation has put something into motion that will completely transform the world as we know it.
For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people, instructing us to deny godlessness and worldly lusts and to live in a sensible, righteous, and godly way in the present age, while we wait for the blessed hope, the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ.
~Titus 2.11-13
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On the Parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus
TEXT
19 “There was a rich man who would dress in purple and fine linen, feasting lavishly every day. 20 But a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, was lying at his gate. 21 He longed to be filled with what fell from the rich man’s table, but instead the dogs would come and lick his sores. 22 One day the poor man died and was carried away by the angels to Abraham’s side. The rich man also died and was buried. 23 And being in torment in Hades, he looked up and saw Abraham a long way off, with Lazarus at his side. 24 ‘Father Abraham!’ he called out, ‘Have mercy on me and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, because I am in agony in this flame!’
25 “‘Son,’ Abraham said, ‘remember that during your life you received your good things, just as Lazarus received bad things, but now he is comforted here, while you are in agony. 26 Besides all this, a great chasm has been fixed between us and you, so that those who want to pass over from here to you cannot; neither can those from there cross over to us.’
27 “‘Father,’ he said, ‘then I beg you to send him to my father’s house— 28 because I have five brothers—to warn them, so that they won’t also come to this place of torment.’
29 “But Abraham said, ‘They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.’
30 “‘No, father Abraham,’ he said. ‘But if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.’
31 “But he told him, ‘If they don’t listen to Moses and the prophets, they will not be persuaded if someone rises from the dead.’”
~Luke 16.19-31
Title: On the Parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus
Series: Who is Jesus? A Study of the Gospel of Luke
Church: South Caraway Baptist Church, Jonesboro, AR
Date: May 08, 2022
Faith seeking Understanding 