Tag Archives: The Resurrection

On Eschatology and the Beatific Vision

In my last episode of Thinking Theologically (see here), I reflected on the nature of the Christian’s hope in the face of death. Do we simply go to heaven when we die, or is there something more for which we are waiting? (See also my post, “On Christian Hope: Heaven or Resurrection,” here.) The point of all this is that we must recover the priority of resurrection and new creation in contemporary evangelical eschatology. Christian hope is not simply “dying and going to heaven.” We await bodily resurrection and the renewal of creation. However, there is a danger of swinging the pendulum too far in the other direction, as it were. A beautiful renewed earth, embodied existence, culture, work, relationships, and the like are genuine eschatological goods—but are they the highest good? What are we to make of the traditional doctrine of the beatific vision, the idea that the final blessedness of redeemed humanity consists in seeing and enjoying God forever? After all, Paul can say that to depart and be with Christ is “far better” (Phil 1:23). So, which is it? I would submit that the Christian eschatological hope is neither merely resurrection and new creation nor an immaterial vision of God detached from creation. Rather, the resurrection of the body and renewal of creation provide the embodied setting for the beatific vision, in which redeemed humanity reaches its final blessedness by dwelling in the unveiled presence of the Triune God.

Of course, the Christian hope is irreducibly bodily. This cannot be denied. In Romans 8:23, Paul reminds us that “we also groan within ourselves, eagerly waiting for adoption, the redemption of our bodies.” In the same way that Christ was raised bodily from the dead, so we too, as his people, will one day be raised in glorified bodies. His resurrection is the pattern for ours. This is the logic of the resurrection. (On which, see here.) Salvation, therefore, does not culminate in the permanent separation of the soul from the body. God created human beings as embodied creatures, and his work of redemption restores the whole human person rather than liberating the soul from embodied existence. This is important for how we understand the beatific vision. To say that our final blessedness consists in seeing and enjoying God does not require us to abandon the bodily character of Christian hope. The redeemed who see God will be resurrected human beings, restored to the embodied existence for which God created them. The beatific vision is not the replacement of embodied human existence; it is the perfection of embodied human existence in the presence of God.

Neither, by the way, does embracing the beatific vision require us to abandon our concept of a renewed creation. In Romans 8, Paul deliberately connects the liberation of creation with the glorification of God’s children. Creation presently “groans” under its bondage to decay, even as we ourselves groan while awaiting the redemption of our bodies (Rom 8:21–23). The two hopes belong together. Just as God will redeem our bodies from death, so creation itself “will also be set free from the bondage to decay into the glorious freedom of God’s children” (8:21). The biblical hope, therefore, is not the abandonment of the created order but its renewal. This trajectory reaches its culmination in Revelation 21, where John sees “a new heaven and a new earth” and the New Jerusalem descending “out of heaven from God” (Rev 21:1–2). The direction is significant: redeemed humanity does not permanently escape upward from creation; rather, God’s heavenly reality comes down to transform the dwelling place of humanity. Resurrection and new creation thus belong together as essential dimensions of Christian eschatological hope. But this raises an important question: what ultimately makes this renewed creation the blessed existence for which Christians hope? A renewed creation is essential to Christian hope, but the biblical story does not reach its climax merely by telling us that everything has been made new.

What, then, constitutes the supreme glory of the new creation? John provides the answer almost immediately: “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 great hope of the new creation is therefore not merely that death has been defeated, the curse has been removed, or creation has been restored—glorious though each of these realities will be. Its supreme glory is the presence of God himself. Indeed, this is the destination toward which the entire biblical story has been moving. Humanity begins in Eden dwelling in the presence of God. After the entrance of sin and humanity’s exile from his presence, God nevertheless dwells among his covenant people through the tabernacle and temple. In the incarnation, the Word himself “dwelt among us” (John 1:14), and through the Spirit God now dwells among his people in the church. Yet each of these anticipates the consummation, when God will dwell immediately and permanently with redeemed humanity in the new creation. The glory of the new creation is not ultimately that everything has been made new, but that the God who makes all things new dwells there with his people.

Yet Revelation goes even further. The promise is not merely that God will dwell with his people, but that “they will see his face” (Rev 22:4). Here we arrive at what Christian theology has traditionally called the beatific vision. The word “beatific” refers to blessedness, and the doctrine describes the final blessedness of redeemed humanity as consisting in the immediate knowledge and enjoyment of God himself. This hope appears throughout the New Testament. Jesus promises that the “pure in heart” will “see God” (Matt 5:8). Paul explains that although we presently see “only a reflection as in a mirror,” we will one day see “face to face” (1 Cor 13:12). Likewise, John declares that when Christ appears, “we will be like him because we will see him as he is” (1 John 3:2). Of course, none of this means that finite creatures will somehow become capable of comprehending the infinite God exhaustively. The Creator-creature distinction remains. Rather, the redeemed will know and enjoy God with an immediacy, purity, and fullness impossible in the present age. We presently know God truly, but our knowledge remains mediated and incomplete. In the new creation, faith will finally give way to sight. The highest blessing of the age to come is therefore not merely that we will live forever, but that we will live forever in the unveiled presence of God.

We should not, therefore, think that we must choose between resurrection and the beatific vision, as though one represented a properly biblical hope while the other reflected an overly spiritualized view of salvation. The New Testament holds them together. We will see God as the resurrected and glorified human beings he created and redeemed us to be. Our resurrected eyes will behold Christ, our ears will hear the worship of the redeemed, and our glorified bodies will inhabit the renewed creation in which God dwells with his people. Indeed, the closing chapters of Revelation bring all these realities together. John sees a city, a river, the tree of life, the nations, the servants of God, and the throne of God and of the Lamb (Rev 21–22). Yet at the center of this renewed creation stands the remarkable promise that God’s servants “will see his face” (22:4). New creation is not an alternative to heaven because heaven comes down. Resurrection is not an alternative to seeing God because we are raised to enjoy God as whole human beings. And the beatific vision is not an escape from creation because God’s unveiled presence is the supreme glory of the new creation.

This is why Scripture can speak of God himself as the inheritance and supreme good of his people. The psalmist declares, “LORD, you are my portion and my cup of blessing” and confesses that “in your presence is abundant joy; at your right hand are eternal pleasures” (Ps 16:5, 11). Likewise, Psalm 73 asks, “Who do I have in heaven but you? And I desire nothing on earth but you” (73:25). Such language does not diminish the goodness of God’s created gifts. Rather, it places those gifts in their proper order. We should certainly look forward to a renewed creation free from death, suffering, and the curse. We should look forward to resurrected bodies, restored relationships, and the fullness of human life as God intended it. But none of these things constitutes our highest good apart from God himself. Indeed, Revelation describes the New Jerusalem as having no temple because “the Lord God the Almighty and the Lamb are its temple,” and needing neither sun nor moon because “the glory of God illuminates it” (Rev 21:22–23). The greatest gift God gives his people in the new creation is ultimately himself. Every other eschatological good finds its proper place within that supreme and everlasting good.

What, then, is the Christian’s ultimate hope? It is not simply that our souls go to heaven when we die. Neither, however, is it merely that our bodies will be raised and we will inhabit a renewed creation forever. We await the return of Christ, the resurrection of the dead, the renewal of creation, the removal of death and the curse, and, above all, the unhindered presence of God himself. Resurrection describes the embodied form of our final salvation. New creation describes its created setting. The beatific vision describes its supreme blessedness and end. This is precisely the picture with which the biblical story concludes: “There will no longer be any curse. The throne of God and of the Lamb will be in the city, and his servants will worship him. They will see his face” (Rev 22:3–4). Christian hope is therefore gloriously earthly without being earth-centered and gloriously heavenly without being disembodied. We await resurrection and new creation because God intends redeemed humanity to live forever as the creatures he made us to be. But the supreme glory of that life will not be merely that death is gone, creation is renewed, or our bodies have been raised. It will be that we will see his face. The new creation is the world of our eschatological hope, but God himself is its object.


On the Curse of Death and the Hope of Resurrection

TEXT

12 The iniquity of Ephraim is bound up;
His sin is stored up.
13 The pains of childbirth come upon him;
He is not a wise son,
For it is not the time that he should delay at the opening of the womb.
14 Shall I ransom them from the power of Sheol?
Shall I redeem them from death?
O Death, where are your thorns?
O Sheol, where is your sting?
Compassion will be hidden from My sight.

15 Though he flourishes among the reeds,
An east wind will come,
The wind of the Lord coming up from the wilderness;
And his fountain will become dry
And his spring will be dried up;
It will plunder his treasury of every precious article.
16 Samaria will be held guilty,
For she has rebelled against her God.
They will fall by the sword,
Their little ones will be dashed in pieces,
And their pregnant women will be ripped open.

~Hosea 13.12-16 (NASB95)

Title: On the Curse of Death and the Hope of Resurrection
Text: Hosea 13.12-16
Series: Hosea: A Love Story Like No Other
Church: Redeemer Baptist Church, Jonesboro, AR
Date: July 13, 2025


On the Beauty of the Fourfold Gospel Witness

It is truly a manifestation of the grace of God that there are four accounts of the life of Jesus in the New Testament. They are rightly called theological history, because each one of them details the life of Jesus in a way that emphasizes and highlights particular aspects of who He is and what He has done for His people. While any one of them may have been sufficient on their own to convey the pertinent historical facts of His life, the four of them together paint a beautiful multilayered tapestry that has sparked the reflection and devotion of His followers now for two millennia. In the space that follows, I will sketch out the contours of that tapestry by discussing the particular emphases of each Gospel. 

According to the documentary hypothesis, Mark wrote his gospel first based on the memoirs of the Apostle Peter. The vast majority of Mark’s gospel is reproduced in both Matthew and Luke, but this does not mean that Mark’s Gospel is incomplete, redundant, or lacking in historical and theological value. This value is seen clearly in the very first verse of his work, “The beginning of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.” Functioning somewhat like a title or purpose statement, this verse is packed with theological significance. It tells us that Mark’s work is a “gospel”, a word that means good news; it also states clearly that this good news has to do with Jesus, the messianic Son of God. That this is the primary way that Mark wants his audience to see Jesus is confirmed following His death, when a Roman Centurion says, “Truly, this man was the Son of God.” 

However, what makes Mark’s gospel so compelling is that this truth is hidden throughout most of the Gospel. The so-called messianic secret, in which Jesus repeatedly instructs people not to make His identity known, stands in stark contrast to the bold affirmations at the beginning and end of Mark’s Gospel. This is probably because Mark wants his readers to understand that the messianic identity of Jesus is defined by His death on the cross for sin. Almost half of Mark’s gospel is dedicated to the events of Passion week. Whereas the first ten chapters are quickly paced and action oriented, the final six slow down to something like a snail’s pace in detailing the events of the final seven days of Jesus’ life. This is why many have considered Mark’s gospel to be an apology or a defense of the cross that was likely written for Christians in Rome shortly before the persecutions of Nero. 

Of course, though chronologically prior, the Gospel of Mark is not ordered first in the New Testament canon; that pride of place belongs to the Gospel of Matthew, and it is easy to understand why. Not only does Matthew’s Gospel begin with a genealogy that traces the lineage of Jesus through David to Abraham, it also includes an infancy narrative that captivates those who read it. However, this is part of Matthew’s unique purpose to show that Jesus is the Son of David, Son of Abraham. Not only does this connect the New Testament back to the Old Testament, it also would have been particularly important if Matthew was writing to Jewish Christians, as many suppose. For Matthew, Jesus is the fulfillment of God’s covenant promises, both to Abraham and to David; he is the long awaited Davidic messiah, heir to the throne of  God’s Kingdom, and the one who mediates the blessings of the Abrahamic Covenant. 

More than that though, for Matthew, Jesus is a new and better Moses. This is evident in the many ways that the events of the first four chapters recapitulate the life of Moses. On top of this, Matthew has structured His gospel around five primary discourses, a fact that likely refers back to the five books of Moses. In the same way that Moses was the mediator of the Law under the Old Covenant, likewise, Jesus is the mediator of the “law” under the New Covenant.  This is confirmed in the Great Commission, where Jesus commands His disciples to “teach all that I have commanded you.” The phrase “all that I have commanded you” most naturally refers back to the content of the five primary discourses in Matthew’s Gospel. Because of this, many consider Matthew’s Gospel to be a handbook on discipleship, a manual that instructs us in what it means to follow Jesus. 

The Gospel of Luke rounds out the “Synoptic Gospels”, and like Matthew, it begins with a beautiful retelling of the Christmas story. However, what stands out in Luke’s infancy narrative is the role of the Holy Spirit. Of course, many consider Luke to be the theologian of the Spirit par excellence in the New Testament, not least of which is due to the continued role that the Spirit plays in Luke’s second volume, the Book of Acts, otherwise known as the Acts of the Holy Spirit. Luke’s emphasis on the role of the Spirit is largely due to his desire to present Jesus as the Spirit anointed messiah. This is confirmed in chapter 4 of Luke’s Gospel, when Jesus reads a passage from the Book of Isaiah, which says in part “The Spirit is upon me.” After He sits down, He says, “Today, this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.” In other words, Luke wants us to see that Jesus is the spirit anointed Messiah who has finally come to pour out the blessings of the Messianic jubilee. According to the passage from Isaiah, chapter 61, these blessings are primarily manifested in the compassionate healing of those who are blind, deaf, mute, etc, and throughout Jesus’ ministry, Luke repeatedly details the compassion that Jesus demonstrated during his healing ministry. For Luke in particular, Jesus is a man of sorrows, well acquainted with grief, bearing the burdens and ailments of many. 

In addition to this, a large portion of Luke’s unique material is dedicated to Jesus’ final journey toward Jerusalem. In Luke, chapter 9, we read that “He set his face like flint to go to Jerusalem;” this simply means that the final journey of Jesus to Jerusalem to be crucified was purposeful and intentional on the part of Jesus, so that “the scriptures might be fulfilled.” The fulfillment of God’s plan for salvation history is a primary emphasis in both Luke’s Gospel and in the Book of Acts. In other words, Jesus was not a victim of circumstance or the maniacal plots of evil men; He was delivered up according to the predetermined plan of God from before the foundations of the world. Luke wants his audience to understand that everything that happened during the life of Jesus from his birth to his death, resurrection, ascension, and session is the fulfillment of God’s eternal plan to redeem humanity from their sins. In fact, in the final chapter of Luke’s gospel, we read on more than one occasion that “all that was written in the Law, the Prophets, and the Psalms must be fulfilled.”

Last, but certainly not least, is the Gospel of John, and the relationship between John and the synoptics is a question that has bewildered many throughout the centuries. This is mostly because John begins His gospel with a striking description of the eternal Word, God the Son, who came incarnate and “dwelt among us”. Clearly, “the disciple whom Jesus loved” wants his readers to understand that this Jesus was no ordinary man; He is the incarnate God man, the Word made flesh, and as he indicates at the end of His gospel, “These things are written so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, and by believing, have life in His name.” The deity of Jesus practically jumps off of the page in John’s gospel, not the least of which is because of the several “I am” statements that are found throughout the book, the most profound of which is “Before Abraham was, I am.” Of course, these “I am” statements refer back to the divine name which was revealed to Moses at the burning bush, and so indicate a startling awareness in the mind of Jesus of His own divinity. 

Of course, in the service of this purpose, John structures His gospel around seven specific miracles, or, as he calls them, “signs.” If John did, in fact, write two to three decades after the synoptics, then it seems clear that he did not believe it necessary to record all that Jesus began to do and teach; he even confesses that to do so would require more books than could be humanly conceived. But these seven signs were singled out by John because they advance His thesis that Jesus is the Christ. From the turning of water into wine to the raising of Lazarus from the dead, every one of these signs demonstrate a particular aspect of Jesus messianic identity and so prove that He is the Christ, the one who gives and sustains life in all those who are filled with His Spirit. 

In the final analysis, it seems clear that if one of these four gospels were lost or removed from the canon, the followers of Jesus would be at a severe disadvantage. Each and every one of them is necessary for us to appreciate the multi-faceted beauty of the person and work of Him who is called Christ. From the earliest centuries of the Christian movement, these four evangelists have stood together in chorus, singing not in unison but in harmony, and because of this, the followers of Jesus have a sure and certain foundation upon which they can stand as they attempt to follow Christ and be more like Him.


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