Tag Archives: Second Coming

On the Unfinished Finished Work of Christ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


On Christological Eschatology

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


On 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 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.


On the Logic of the Resurrection

The New Testament is clear that the Christian Gospel rises and falls on the historical factuality of this truth, that Jesus Christ truly lived, truly died, and truly rose again. There simply is no way around it; as the Apostle Paul writes, “If there is no resurrection of the dead, then not even Christ has been raised; and if Christ has not been raised, then our proclamation is in vain, and so is your faith. … And if Christ has not been raised, your faith is worthless; you are still in your sins.” (1 Cor 15.13-14, 17) Jesus had to truly die in our place to satisfy the wrath of God toward sin, and he had to truly be raised from the dead in victory over sin and death. The work of Christ in His death and resurrection is the means by which he secures our salvation; His death achieves for us our forgiveness, and His resurrections assures us of our life eternal.

However, the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus is more than simply a historical event; it is more than merely a transaction between the Father and the Son. No, the logic of the Gospel is that the work of Christ in his crucifixion is the pattern for our life as well. By faith, we are united with Christ; we have died with him to sin and we have been raised with him in newness of life. (Romans 6.4-5) This is the logic of the Gospel, namely that His death becomes our death and his resurrection becomes our resurrection. In the space that follows, I would like to spend just a few brief moments reflecting on the implications of this essential principle of the Christian Gospel.

On the one hand, we participate in his death and resurrection spiritually, which means we experience it through the indwelling of His Holy Spirit. This happens at the point of conversion; when someone trusts in Christ, they die with Him to the tyranny and slavery of sin, they die with Him to the old self and its fleshly desires. “For we know that our old self was crucified with him so that the body ruled by sin might be rendered powerless so that we may no longer be enslaved to sin.” (Romans 6.6) Consequently, they are, then, indwelt by the Holy Spirit who gives life. As Paul goes on to write, “Now if Christ is in you, the body is dead because of sin, but the Spirit gives life because of righteousness.” (Romans 8.10) We are renewed and transformed by the Spirit that we might walk in righteousness and holiness before God and others in this life. This is what it means to be resurrected with Him spiritually; as Paul says elsewhere, “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has passed away, and see, the new has come!” (2 Cor 5.17) This is the good news of the Gospel.

However, we must also affirm that we will participate in his death and resurrection physically. This is also essential to the logic of the Gospel. Death is the consequence of sin and its corruption in a fallen creation. As the author of Hebrews writes, “it is appointed for people to die once—and after this, judgment.” Every human being, saved and unsaved, will die physically, but those who die in Christ will also be resurrected physically.  The Apostle Paul writes, “the dead in Christ will rise,” (1 Thess. 4.16) or again, “the dead will be raised incorruptible, and we will be changed.” (1 Cor 15.52) In the same way that he was raised in a glorified and perfected physical body, so also we will be raised in a glorified and perfected body. “We know that when he appears, we will be like him because we will see him as he is.” (1 John 3.2) This is the hope; this is the promise. This is the logic of the Gospel. “Just as we have borne the image of the man of dust, we will also bear the image of the man of heaven.” (1 Cor 15.49)

Of course, we may be tempted to conclude that the position that I have sketched out here is hopelessly illogical. How can it be possible that we must die and be raised both spiritually and physically? This seems like a contradiction in terms. How can Paul claim that we have been raised with Christ but then claim that we will one day be raised with Christ. I believe the answer to this apparent contradiction lies in the New Testament reality of the already and the not yet. In fact, I believe that this hermeneutical principle is fundamental for understanding the New Testament in general. In Christ, the last days have already been inaugurated. The fulfillment of God’s work of salvation has begun in the person and work of Christ. Christ has been raised from the dead as the “firstfruits”, and he has given us the eschatological indwelling of the Spirit. We already live the life of the age to come, aka eternal life, and we stand redeemed under the promise of the New Covenant.

And yet, we understand that the full consequences of the redeeming work of Christ have not yet been completely realized. We await the day when he will come again in power and glory to do away with sin once and for all, and it is then that we will be raised in glorified bodies. This is how the Apostle Paul describes the order of the resurrection, “Christ, the firstfruits; afterward, at his coming, those who belong to Christ.” (1 Cor 15.23) Yes, those who are in Christ by faith have already been made new; we are already regenerated by the indwelling Spirit,. But we await the day when our faith will be made sight. “We ourselves have the Spirit as the firstfruits, [yet] we also groan within ourselves, eagerly waiting for adoption, the redemption of our bodies.” (Romans 8.23) Christ is risen; he came up out of the grave – physically, bodily, gloriously, and one day we too will be raised from the dead physically, bodily, and gloriously.

The point of all this is to say that the inherent logic of Christ’s resurrection requires the physical bodily resurrection of believers. To deny this truth is to deny the gospel itself. We cannot have a gospel, we cannot have a salvation, we cannot have a redemption, that does not find its completion in the physical bodily resurrection of those who have been united with Christ by faith. One article I recently read sums up this truth by saying, “The end of the work of God, as regards man, is the glorification of his restored and sanctified nature—body and soul—in eternity. Without this, salvation and restitution would be incomplete. The adoption cannot be consummated without the redemption of the body.” Or to put it more sharply, a gospel that denies the physical resurrection of believers at the physical second coming of Christ is a false gospel, as the Apostle Paul would say, “If anyone is preaching to you a gospel contrary to what you received, a curse be on him!” (Galatians 1.9)

For further study, see:
On Christian Hope: Heaven or Resurrection
On the Ground of Christian Hope
On Eschatology and the Gospel
On Grief and Hope


On Love as the Heart of Christmas

TEXT

Dear friends, let us love one another, because love is from God, and everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. The one who does not love does not know God, because God is love. God’s love was revealed among us in this way: God sent his one and only Son into the world so that we might live through him. 10 Love consists in this: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the atoning sacrifice for our sins. 11 Dear friends, if God loved us in this way, we also must love one another. 12 No one has ever seen God. If we love one another, God remains in us and his love is made complete in us. 13 This is how we know that we remain in him and he in us: He has given us of his Spirit. 14 And we have seen and we testify that the Father has sent his Son as the world’s Savior. 15 Whoever confesses that Jesus is the Son of God—God remains in him and he in God. 16 And we have come to know and to believe the love that God has for us.

God is love, and the one who remains in love remains in God, and God remains in him. 17 In this, love is made complete with us so that we may have confidence in the day of judgment, because as he is, so also are we in this world. 18 There is no fear in love; instead, perfect love drives out fear, because fear involves punishment. So the one who fears is not complete in love. 19 We love because he first loved us. 20 If anyone says, “I love God,” and yet hates his brother or sister, he is a liar. For the person who does not love his brother or sister whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen. 21 And we have this command from him: The one who loves God must also love his brother and sister.

~1 John 4.7-21

Title: On Love as the Heart of Christmas
Text: 1 John 4.7-21
Church: South Caraway Baptist Church, Jonesboro, AR
Date: December 17, 2023


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


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.


On Psalm 119.81-88 (Kaf)

81 I long for your salvation;
I put my hope in your word.
82 My eyes grow weary
looking for what you have promised;
I ask, “When will you comfort me?”
83 Though I have become like a wineskin dried by smoke,
I do not forget your statutes.
84 How many days must your servant wait?
When will you execute judgment on my persecutors?
85 The arrogant have dug pits for me;
they violate your instruction.
86 All your commands are true;
people persecute me with lies—help me!
87 They almost ended my life on earth,
but I did not abandon your precepts.
88 Give me life in accordance with your faithful love,
and I will obey the decree you have spoken.

We now come to the eleventh stanza of Psalm 119 (Kaf/Kaph – כ‎, final form – ך), and with this stanza, we are halfway through the longest chapter in the Bible. This is somewhat appropriate since the theme of this stanza concerns waiting. “How many days must your servant wait?” (verse 84a) In the same way that this psalm requires endurance and perseverance to read and work through, so also the life of faith requires endurance and perseverance. Or, to borrow the title of Eugene Peterson’s book on the Psalms of Ascent (120-134), the Christian life is A Long Obedience in the Same Direction. As the subtitle of the book states, Peterson uses these psalms to reflect on “discipleship in an instant society”. As a culture, we are addicted to instant gratification, and the proliferation of social media with its “likes” and “follows” has only made this incessant need more consuming. We desperately need to relearn what it means to wait, to persevere in faith, to appreciate delayed fulfillment. But, of course, waiting is not easy; it is not fun. Most of the time, it is hard, and this is the struggle that our psalmist is wrestling with in these verses.

It would seem that he is facing intense persecution for his devotion to God and His ways. As he writes in verse 86, “people persecute me with lies; they almost ended my life on earth.” This is because “they violate your instruction, but I did not abandon your precepts.” (verse 85) Clearly, the psalmist is facing opposition, ridicule, even the threat of physical harm because of his commitment to the Word and ways of God. Sadly, this is the reality of living in the already but not yet. As believers in Christ, we are already citizens of His kingdom; we live by a set of standards and convictions, principles and values, that stand in complete contradiction to the kingdom of this world. This inevitably leads to conflict with those who are on the outside of the faith, which results in ridicule, ostracism, and eventually outright persecution. The more that we obey the Word of God, the more that we will face criticism for it. As the Apostle Paul puts it in Second Timothy, chapter 3, verse 12, “In fact, all who want to live a godly life in Christ Jesus will be persecuted.” This is a lived reality for our psalmist.

And so, understandably, our psalmist cries out to God, “How many days must your servant wait? When will you execute judgment on my persecutors? When will you comfort me?” (verse 84) This prayer has been the prayer of the people of God for the entirety of history. Every moment, we wonder, “How long, O Lord? How long until you will come to do away with sin, vindicate your people, fulfill your promises, and establish your perfect rule on earth? How long?!” This is our heart’s deepest and truest longing, as our psalmist says, “I long for your salvation.” Of course, salvation here, as our psalmist envisions it, is a much more robust concept than we usually understand. As a post-reformation, post-enlightenment, westernized people, we have been conditioned to understand salvation in individualistic terms. We generally think of salvation as the forgiveness of sin, the removal of guilt, and inheritance of eternal life (when we die). But for our psalmist, salvation is vindication; it the victory of God over those who would oppose Him and His people. However, these two understandings of salvation are not in contradiction. The Bible presents the work of Christ in redeeming His people as a both/and, as an already/not yet. We have already received the forgiveness of sin resulting in eternal life, but we are also waiting for the day when Christ will come again to defeat sin and Satan once and for all and establish His Kingdom on earth.

This is our blessed hope, and as our psalmist writes, “I put my hope in your word.” Our psalmist understands that hope is the source of the strength that is necessary for waiting, and the promises of God found in His Word are the foundation of hope. It is hope that empowers our psalmist’s unflinching obedience in spite of the persecution that he is facing. This is why he prays in verse 88, “Give me life in accordance with your faithful love, and I will obey the decree you have spoken.” The word that is translated as “faithful love” here is the Hebrew word חֶסֶד (hesed), and according to Darrell Bock, it encompasses “all the positive attributes of God: love, covenant faithfulness, mercy, grace, kindness, loyalty–in short, acts of devotion and loving-kindness that go beyond the requirements of duty.” It is variously translated as “faithful love, lovingkindness, loyalty, etc.”, and it refers to His promise keeping devotion to His covenant people. Our psalmist is confident that God will keep the promises of His Word, because that is who He is. He is a promise keeping God, and this is the ground of hope for our psalmist. It is what empowers him to step out in obedience expecting that it will result in the abundant life.

In many ways, the Christian life is a life lived in between, a life of the already but not yet, a life of waiting. We understandably wonder how long we will have to wait for the promises of God to be fulfilled, but there is a question that is more important than this. And that question is simply this: how shall we wait? Will we wait in faithfulness and obedience strengthened by our confident hope in the promises of God’s Word? Or will we give in to the pressures of the world as it seeks to conform us to itself? There will certainly be times when our waiting will be difficult, when continuing in faithfulness will feel pointless, when our hope will appear to be in vain. But these are the times that we must renew our faith in God and the promises are found in His Word and live in light of them. Then and only then will hear those most blessed words on that final day when our Lord Jesus says, “Well done, good and faithful servant! You were faithful over a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Share your master’s joy.” (Matthew 24.23)

For further study:
Introduction
Psalm 119.1-8
Psalm 119.9-16
Psalm 119.17-24
Psalm 119.25-32
Psalm 119.33-40
Psalm 119.41-48
Psalm 119.49-56
Psalm 119.57-64
Psalm 119.65-72
Psalm 119.73-80


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