Tag Archives: Return of Christ

On Eschatology in the Book of Hebrews

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


On the Kingdom of God and this World

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


On Thinking Theologically (Weekend Vlog)


On 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 Errors of Full Preterism

Full preterism, or consistent eschatology as it is sometimes called, is the belief that all of the Bible’s prophecies regarding the consummation of God’s plan for the redemption of humanity, including but not limited to the second coming of Jesus, the resurrection, final judgment, and the establishment of the new heavens and the new earth, occurred in 70 AD when the Romans destroyed the temple in Jerusalem. This event in their understanding marked the eschatological transition from the Old Covenant to the New Covenant, meaning that no further fulfillment is necessary. The new has come; it is really and truly here to its fullest extent. There is no need for any further act of God to complete his redemptive purposes in the world.

Now, let me be clear, this position is complete and utter heresy. It is a false gospel, because it denies the essential orthodox belief that “He will come again to judge the living and the dead” (Apostle’s Creed). It denies “the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come” (Nicene Creed). These denials among others put the views of full preterism wholly outside the boundaries of historic Christian orthodoxy. In the space that remains here, I would simply like to outline a few of the methodological and theological errors that are typical of this view, and then I will conclude by reaffirming the orthodox Christian hope.

The first error of full preterism is that they have a conspiracy theory view of hermeneutical method. In other words, their interpretations are based on a string of loosely related or even unrelated texts that are tied together by the occurrence of similar words. Of course, they would claim that they are following the principle of sola scriptura, namely that “scripture interprets scripture,” but I would submit that this is a theological conviction for biblical interpretation not a hermeneutical method for biblical interpretation. (See my post here). In stringing texts together the way that they do, they completely disregard concerns for the text’s historical and theological context and the author’s flow of thought. Instead, they flatten out the distinctive emphases of particular texts by smashing them together to say that same thing. More often than not, their exegesis comes across like someone throwing paint against a wall and then concluding they’ve painted Mona Lisa.

A second error of full preterism is that they hold to a gnostic view of the human person. Gnosticism is a heresy from the second century CE that suggests that Christ came to save us from this evil material world so that we could throw off the limits of our physical bodies and exist eternally as pure spirit. Of course, there is much more to it than this simple definition, but its weakness is that it disregards God’s design for human beings as embodied souls. We were made with a body and a soul, and to exist without either one of these is to be incomplete from the biblical point of view. This is why the resurrection of the body is such a primary doctrine; we are not merely transformed spiritually, we will be transformed physically when He comes again. Full preterism denies the future bodily resurrection of both the righteous and the wicked, and they suppose that when we die, we either go to heaven or hell to continue on as a “spiritual” being for eternity.

Thirdly, full preterism has an adoptionistic view of the incarnation. Adoptionism, or dynamic monarchianism, is a heresy from the third century CE that suggests that the divine logos came upon the man Jesus as his baptism, left him at his crucifixion, but then came upon him again at his resurrection. In other words, the man Jesus was “adopted” by God at his resurrection. The view of full preterism is not unlike adoptionistic Christology because they seem to believe the body of Jesus was only necessary during his earthly life. Often they suggest that his body was burnt up, or maybe it disappeared, at His ascension, so that He no longer has a body in heaven now. In other words, the son “adopted” a body for as long as he needed it, but then, when he no longer needed it, he discarded it. Along with the gnostic notions discussed above, this position negates the necessity of the resurrection. Why did Jesus even have to be resurrected from the dead with a body? Why not just rise as pure spirit? Here again, this view cannot explain the glorified body of Jesus, because it makes the incarnation temporary.

A fourth error that is part of the full preterist view is that they seem to have a fatalistic view of human history. Since they view this world as it is now as the “new heavens and new earth,” they have no expectation for any kind of renewal or transformation of the created order. According to this view, sin, death, disease, heartache, and the like will continue in perpetuity, eternally, without end. The only escape from the harsh realities of this world is when we die and go to heaven. But a renewed earth free of the corruption of sin and death is not in the purview of full preterism. This is fatalistic, because it essentially says that this is how the world is and this is how it will be. Nothing will ever get better, paradise will never be restored. Among others problems, this perspective denies the original purity and goodness of God’s creation and God’s intent to restore creation to that state of purity and goodness.

The final error that I see with full preterism, and perhaps the greatest, is that it offers a hopeless view of the Gospel. The reason for this is that it does not offer a final and full defeat of sin. Sure, the penalty of sin has been paid on the cross, and Satan has been defeated. But according to the full preterists, Satan and sin continue to run free forever. There is no final end to sin; there is no final defeat of Satan, no final judgment of the wicked. These things continue into perpetuity. The fact of the matter is that this is not the Gospel. Christ came, yes to pay the penalty for our sin, but also to free us from sin, and not only us, but the entirety of His creation. This is why the creation groans with yearning for the revelation of the sons of God (Romans 8.19-22). We look forward to a world that will be free of the domination and corruption of sin, free of the decay of death, where there will be no more tears, no more pains, no more heartaches. This is hope. This is the Gospel. And so we say, “Amen! Come, Lord Jesus!” (Revelation 22.20)

For further study:
On Christian Hope: Heaven or Resurrection
On Eschatology and the Gospel


On the Theological Unity of Daniel’s Visions

The unfortunate reality today is that the bulk of biblical scholarship on the Book of Daniel is mired in the abyss of higher critical presuppositions, not the least of which is a thoroughgoing rejection of predictive biblical prophecy as such. Because of this the Book of Daniel is viewed as a composite work that was compiled in the middle second century BCE in the midst of the Maccabean Crisis. This view would seem to be supported by the linguistic and generic divisions that exist within the text. Linguistically, chapters 2 thru 7 are written in Aramaic while chapter 1 and chapters 8 thru 12 are written in Hebrew; similarly, though not an exact correspondence, chapters 1 thru 6 comprise the court tails while chapters 7 thru 12 consist of the visionary material. The conclusion then of most biblical scholarship on Daniel is that the eschatological expectations of Daniel are essentially a contradictory hodgepodge of ex eventu (after the fact) depictions of the actions of the Seleucid King Antiochus IV Epiphanes.

Of course, to defend the book’s 6th century Danielic authorship would go beyond the limits of this medium, but in the space that follows I would like to briefly demonstrate the essential unity of Daniel’s visions. The clearest indication of this unity comes in the correspondence between Nebuchadnezzar’s dream in chapter 2 and in Daniel’s vision in chapter 7. While these chapters come from seemingly disparate parts of the book, they both present a sequence of four kingdoms followed by the establishment of the Kingdom of God. Of course, critical scholarship widely identifies these kingdoms as Babylon, Media, Persia, and Greece. This is mostly because they understand the actions of the fourth kingdom, and particularly the little horn, to be fulfilled in the actions of Antiochus IV Epiphanes during the Maccabean Crisis from 167-164 CE. I will come back to the identification of these kingdoms in a little bit, but suffice it to say here that it is difficult to see how Daniel’s expectation for the establishment Kingdom of God is fulfilled in this time period. The subsequent period of Hasmonean independence which followed was a far cry from the grandeur of Daniel’s expectations.

This is especially so when we turn our attention to Daniel chapter 9; in that chapter, Daniel is praying about the end of the exile, and he receives an answer from the angel Gabriel, which reads,

Seventy weeks are decreed about your people and your holy city—to bring the rebellion to an end, to put a stop to sin, to atone for iniquity, to bring in everlasting righteousness, to seal up vision and prophecy, and to anoint the most holy place.

Daniel 9.24

It seems rather clear that these seventy weeks span the timeframe from Daniel’s day (“from the issuing of the decree to restore and rebuild Jerusalem” in verse 25) to the time of final consummation, the time of “everlasting righteousness”. Because of this, we may presume then that the seventy weeks of Daniel 9 cover the same span of time as the visions of Daniel 2 and 7.

Now, the key to identifying the four kingdoms mentioned in Daniel’s sequence would seem to come in Daniel chapter 8. In that chapter, Daniel sees a vision of a ram with two horns, one longer than the other, and a goat whose large horn was broken off and replaced by four smaller horns. Again, the angel Gabriel gives the interpretation.

The two-horned ram that you saw represents the kings of Media and Persia. The shaggy goat represents the king of Greece, and the large horn between his eyes represents the first king. The four horns that took the place of the broken horn represent four kingdoms. They will rise from that nation, but without its power.

Daniel 8.20-22

This interpretation indicates that the second kingdom in Daniel’s sequence should be understood as the unified Kingdom of the Medes and Persians. It is described as a ram with two horns, one longer than the other (8.3) and as a bear which was raised up on one side (7.5). The third kingdom, then, should be understood as the Kingdom of Greece which is represented, of course, by Alexander the Great and the Diadochi, the four generals who followed him. They are variously described as a goat whose large horn was broken off and replaced by four smaller horns (8.8) and as a leopard with four wings and four heads (7.6).

This understanding is confirmed in Daniel chapter 11, where we read,

Three more kings will arise in Persia, and the fourth will be far richer than the others. By the power he gains through his riches, he will stir up everyone against the kingdom of Greece. Then a warrior king will arise; he will rule a vast realm and do whatever he wants. But as soon as he is established, his kingdom will be broken up and divided to the four winds of heaven, but not to his descendants; it will not be the same kingdom that he ruled, because his kingdom will be uprooted and will go to others besides them.

Daniel 11.3-4

The rest of chapter 11, then, goes on to detail the various campaigns of the “King of the North” and the “King of the South”, which describes the various conflicts between the Seleucids and the Ptolemies during the Third and Second century BCE respectively. The point of all this is to say that Daniel’s sequence of four kingdoms is best understood to refer to the progression of empires from Babylon to Medo-Persia to Greece and finally to Rome*. Of course, it must be noted that while the Roman Empire corresponds to Daniel’s fourth kingdom, it doesn’t completely fulfill it. That fulfillment comes ultimately in the eschatological kingdom of the beast, which is described in Book of Revelation, but this is a topic for another time.

By way of conclusion, then, Daniel’s visions reveal a remarkable and multifaceted unity in their expectation despite their seeming disparities. Daniel chapters 2, 7, and 9 give the overarching flow from Daniel’s day to the establishment of God’s Kingdom, and chapters 8 and 11 zoom in on the specific actions of the second and especially the third kingdom. More importantly, this understanding lays the foundation for the typological connection that Daniel draws between the third and fourth kingdoms, specifically between the actions of Antiochus IV Epiphanes and the eschatological little horn of the fourth kingdom. In addition, it helps us see how Daniel’s eschatological paradigm serves as the foundation for the message and ministry of Jesus, especially the Olivet Discourse, and for the message of the New Testament, particularly the Book of Revelation.

Of course, the most important aspect of all of this is the certain promise of God’s victory over His enemies and the enemies of His people. Our hope rests not in earthly powers, nations, or empires, but in the Kingdom of God and in His promised Messiah. That Messiah came incarnate 2000 years ago. He lived a perfect life, and then, He died on the cross for sin and rose again. Forty days later, He ascended to be seated at the right hand of the Father, and He left us this promise, that in the same way he ascended, he will also one day descend in glory and power (Acts 1.11). This is our glorious hope, and so we pray, “Amen, Come, Lord Jesus! (Revelation 22.20)

For further study, see:
Hamilton, James M. With the Clouds of Heaven: The Book of Daniel in Biblical Theology. New Studies in Biblical Theology. Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity, 2014


Slow To Write

"let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger."

lovegavehope

Just another WordPress.com site

Jared Cornutt

Pastor | Speaker | Writer

Denny Burk

A commentary on theology, politics, and culture

G3 Ministries

Events + Resources for the Local Church

Biblical Reasoning

Biblical and Systematic Theology According to the Scriptures

RetroChristianity

Reclaiming the Forgotten Faith

SBC Voices

Southern Baptist News & Opinion

Lucid Theology

Thoughts on words, books, theology, and life.

Baptist21

A pastor-led voice for Baptists in the 21st century

Center For Baptist Renewal

The Personal and Professional Blog of Phillip Powers

The Pastor's Well - Pastor Well

The Personal and Professional Blog of Phillip Powers

Articles - AlbertMohler.com

The Personal and Professional Blog of Phillip Powers

The Gospel Coalition

The Personal and Professional Blog of Phillip Powers