Tag Archives: Typology

On Christ as the Fulfillment of the Psalms

One of the richest books in the Old Testament, in my opinion, is the Book of Psalms. It is a collection filled with the prayers and songs of Israel throughout her history, and it holds immense value for the devotional life of the church today. When we read the Psalms, we are drawn into the devotional, emotional, and personal experience of faith in ways that touch every part of our lives. And this is good and right. But the Psalms are not only expressions of faith, whether Israel’s or our own. They are also filled with expectations that reach beyond themselves. The Book of Psalms gives voice to Israel’s experience, to her covenant relationship with God, and to the life of faith more broadly, but it also creates categories that are not fully resolved within Israel’s history. In other words, the Psalms cry out for fulfillment, and it is my thesis that that fulfillment is ultimately found in and through the person and work of Jesus Christ.

In terms of the Old Testament canon, the Book of Psalms consists of prayers and songs that reflect the people, events, and experiences of Israel’s history. They provide a kind of covenantal reflection and royal theology that flows directly out of that historical context. However, the Psalms consistently reach beyond their immediate setting to realities that are eschatological in nature and central to God’s redemptive purposes. For example, in Psalm 22, we encounter the figure of the righteous sufferer—one who endures deep emotional and physical suffering through no fault of his own. While the superscript attributes the psalm to David, the experience described surpasses anything we can clearly identify in his life. Similarly, Psalms 2 and 110 present a vision of Israel’s ideal king: one who is anointed by God, victorious over his enemies, and who reigns with perfect righteousness and justice. Yet no king in Israel’s history, David included, fully embodies this portrait. Likewise, Psalm 1 sets forth a picture of perfect obedience that distinguishes the righteous from the wicked—an ideal never fully realized in Israel or in our own experience. The point is that the realities these psalms describe extend far beyond any one historical figure. They are not exhausted by the past; they point forward. This is why we can say that they cry out for fulfillment.

What I am saying is that the Psalms present us with a kind of tension; they describe ideals that are a far cry from the lived experience of the faithful, both then and now. The righteous sufferer suffers, but he is ultimately vindicated. The ideal king reigns, yet the nations still rage against his authority. The faithful worshiper trusts in God’s covenant promises, but the world remains broken and filled with sin. In other words, these themes are not fully resolved within the Psalter itself; they point beyond its pages and look forward to the decisive intervention of God. Or to put it differently, the Psalms do not simply describe reality as it is; they long for its restoration. There is a deep and persistent yearning throughout the Psalms for God to act on behalf of his people, to fulfill his promises, to judge the wicked, and to vindicate the righteous. This has been the cry of God’s people from the time of the fall until today. We know that something is wrong with the world as it is, and we long for the day when God will set things right and restore creation to what it was always meant to be. This is the heart of the Psalms.

Of course, it is clear in the Gospels that Jesus knew the Psalms well; no doubt he had read, heard, and memorized many of them throughout his life. But Jesus does not merely quote from the Psalms; he inhabits the realities that they describe. For example, when he is hanging on the cross, he cries out in quotation of Psalm 22.1, even as he bears the weight of his work in making atonement for sin. (On the cry of dereliction, see here.) This is not simply a cry of anguish, but an identification with the righteous sufferer whose vindication is anticipated in that psalm. Or again, in his debates with the religious leaders, he quotes Psalm 110.1 in reference to the identity of the Messiah (Matt. 22.41–46). But this is not merely an abstract theological question; it cuts to the very heart of Jesus’s identity as David’s Lord and the one who shares in the authority of God himself. Likewise, after telling the parable of the vineyard owner, Jesus quotes Psalm 118.22–23 about the stone the builders rejected, applying it directly to his own rejection by the religious leaders (Matt. 21.42–46). Many commentators suggest that these quotations function in a way similar to the Jewish practice of remez, where a single verse evokes the broader context of the entire psalm. The point is that Jesus read the Psalms as speaking about himself and his mission. He is not merely borrowing their language; he is revealing their fulfillment, embodying in his own life, death, and resurrection the realities toward which they ultimately point.

This is most clearly seen in the accounts of Jesus’s passion. I have already mentioned his quotation of Psalm 22, but he also alludes to Psalm 31.5, “Into your hands I entrust my spirit.” In addition to this, the Gospel writers present Jesus as inhabiting the experience of the righteous sufferer described in Psalm 69—one who is mocked, rejected, and consumed with zeal for the house of God. Even in the details of his crucifixion, we see the Psalms shaping the narrative, as John notes that not one of his bones was broken, in keeping with Psalm 34.20. These are not random correspondences; they are theological claims. The cross is the place where the unresolved tensions of the Psalms converge. The suffering of the righteous one, the apparent triumph of the wicked, and the trust of the faithful all meet in this moment. And yet, even here, lament is not the final word. In the midst of suffering, there is trust; in the midst of humiliation, there is the promise of vindication. In other words, what the Psalms anticipated, the cross of Jesus embodies. The cries of the Psalter are not silenced at Calvary; they are fulfilled there, as Jesus bears the full weight of suffering while entrusting himself completely to the Father.

And these kinds of connections between the person and work of Jesus and the Psalms are not unique to the Gospels; they are found throughout the New Testament. The apostles consistently interpret the Psalms in light of Christ. For example, in Acts 2, Peter quotes Psalm 16 in defense of Jesus’s resurrection, arguing that David’s words, “You will not abandon my soul to Hades or allow your Holy One to see decay,” cannot ultimately refer to David himself, since his tomb remained among them. Rather, the psalm finds its true fulfillment in the resurrection of Jesus. Likewise, in Acts 4, when the early church faces opposition, they quote Psalm 2 to interpret the raging of the nations against Jesus as the outworking of God’s sovereign plan. And again, in Acts 4:11, Peter cites Psalm 118.22 about the stone the builders rejected and applies it directly to Christ, a move he likely learned from Jesus himself. The author of Hebrews goes even further, repeatedly drawing from the Psalms to establish the superiority of the Son over angels, priests, and kings (e.g., Psalms 2, 8, and 110 among others). These examples could be multiplied, but the point is clear: the New Testament does not treat the Psalms merely as background; it treats them as prophetic and forward-looking. This fulfillment is not always a matter of direct prediction, but often of pattern and typology. The apostles read the Psalms as finding their true meaning in Christ, a hermeneutic grounded in Jesus’s own words that “everything written about me in the Law of Moses, the Prophets, and the Psalms must be fulfilled” (Luke 24:44).

In other words, Christ is the true singer of the Psalms. He is the true righteous one of Psalm 1; he is the true king of Psalm 2. He is the true suffering servant of Psalm 22, and on and on we could go through all 150 psalms. What the Psalter describes in part and in shadow, Christ embodies in fullness and in reality. He fulfills the Psalms both perfectly, in himself, and representatively, for us. That is to say, he is not only the one who perfectly lives out the life of trust, obedience, and righteousness described in the Psalms, but he is also the one who does so on behalf of his people. He stands in our place as the faithful worshiper, the obedient son, and the righteous sufferer who entrusts himself fully to the Father. This means that the Psalms ultimately belong to Christ before they belong to us. We do not begin with our own experience and read ourselves into the Psalms; rather, we begin with Christ and understand the Psalms through him. Only then, as those united to him by faith, do we find our place within their words.

This means that we must read the Psalms as Christians. Yes, we should still read them devotionally; yes, we should still make them our own in the discipline of prayer as we pray through the Scriptures. But we pray them as those who are united to Christ by faith; we pray them in him and through him. This means that our laments are joined to his laments; our cries of suffering are not isolated expressions, but echoes of the righteous sufferer who has gone before us. Likewise, our hope for vindication and deliverance is not grounded in uncertain circumstances, but in the sure reality of his resurrection. When we pray the Psalms, we are not merely expressing our own emotions; we are participating in the life of Christ himself. He gives shape to our prayers, depth to our suffering, and certainty to our hope. This is why we do not outgrow the Psalms; rather, we grow into them. We learn to read them more deeply in, with, and through Christ, finding that what once seemed distant or unresolved now finds clarity and fulfillment in him.

So, yes, the Psalms cry out for fulfillment, and Christ is the answer to their call. They give voice to the longings, tensions, and expectations of God’s people—longings for justice, for deliverance, for a righteous king, for the vindication of the faithful. Yet these cries are not left unresolved. They are not left hanging in the pages of the Old Testament. Rather, they find their resolution in Jesus. In his life, death, resurrection, and exaltation, the realities anticipated in the Psalms come to their fullness. The righteous sufferer is vindicated, the true king is enthroned, and the faithful worshiper is perfected. What the Psalms express in hope, Christ accomplishes in reality. To read the Psalms rightly, then, is not only to hear the voice of Israel, but to hear the voice of Christ—and to see that what they longed for, he has fulfilled.

For further study:
Ash, Christopher. The Psalms: A Christ-Centered Commentary. Four Volumes. Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2024.


On Hosea, Matthew, and Authorial Intent

In my previous post, I argued that our hermeneutic for interpreting the Bible must be grounded in the conviction that what God intended to say in the Scriptures is accurately and faithfully conveyed in what the human authors actually wrote, and for most of the Bible, this seems to be rather clear. The question, however, arises when we come to texts in the New Testament that seem to interpret the Old Testament against the grain of the author’s intent. If we believe that “scripture interprets scripture” (see my post, here), then it would makes sense to suggest that we should follow the interpretive principles of the Apostles, and if they were not bound by a strict conception of authorial intent, then perhaps we should jettison this hermeneutical ground in our interpretive efforts as well. This then is the point that must be proven, namely that the New Testament authors did in fact disregard the human author’s intent when they interpreted the Old Testament. Of course, to examine every place where the New Testament author’s quote from or allude to the Old Testament would require far more space than is available here, and this work has already been done by many fine scholars in the field. I recommend Commentary on the New Testament use of the Old Testament, edited by G.K. Beale and D.A. Carson. But in lieu of that, I would like to explore one text as a test case for the thesis that the New Testament authors ignored the principle of authorial intent in their use of the Old Testament, that being Matthew’s use of Hosea 11.1 in chapter 2, verse 15 of his Gospel.

After they were gone, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream, saying, “Get up! Take the child and his mother, flee to Egypt, and stay there until I tell you. For Herod is about to search for the child to kill him.” So he got up, took the child and his mother during the night, and escaped to Egypt. He stayed there until Herod’s death, so that what was spoken by the Lord through the prophet might be fulfilled: Out of Egypt I called my Son.

~Matthew 2.13-15

The book of the prophet Hosea is a story of love and betrayal; set against the backdrop of Hosea’s own marriage to the adulteress Gomer, throughout the book, God repeatedly rebukes the northern Kingdom of Israel for scorning His grace, rejecting His love, forgetting His covenant, and playing the whore with the false gods of Baal. And so, in chapter 11, and verse 1, we read, “When Israel was a child, I loved him, and out of Egypt I called my son.” In these verses, God is looking back on the Exodus experience of His people as the initial overture of His love for Israel; as He goes on to say in verse 4 of that chapter, “I led them with human cords, with ropes of love. To them I was like one who eases the yoke from their jaws; I bent down to give them food.” It is clear that these verses are operating on the paternal imagery of parenthood. In the same way that parents nurture their newborn children, so also God nurtured His “son” Israel by bringing them out of Egyptian slavery, providing for them in the wilderness, and leading them into a land flowing with milk and honey. Even in spite of their repeated betrayal, God goes on to say in verse 8, “How can I give you up, Ephraim? How can I surrender you, Israel? How can I make you like Admah? How can I treat you like Zeboiim? I have had a change of heart; my compassion is stirred!” This chapter is a beautiful picture of the tenderness and mercy of God toward His rebellious son, and even though, the people of Israel will suffer His discipline, it holds out the hope that God has not ceased loving His people.

Now, in chapter 2 of the first canonical Gospel, Matthew connects the flight of the Holy family to Egypt to the words of Hosea 11.1, “so that what was spoken by the Lord through the prophet might be fulfilled: Out of Egypt I have called my Son (quoting Hosea 11.1b). But if the prophet Hosea wasn’t making a direct messianic prediction in the text in question, as we saw above, then how can the Egyptian flight of Mary, Joseph, and Jesus properly be considered a fulfillment? The answer is that this is a fulfillment by way of typology not prediction. Part of Matthew’s portrayal of Jesus is to show that He is the long awaited “prophet like Moses” (c.f. Deut 18.15-19), and he demonstrates this by highlighting the ways that Jesus recapitulates the story of Moses. A few examples should suffice. When Moses was born, Pharaoh killed all the Hebrew boys; when Jesus was born, Herod killed all the Jewish boys. According to 1 Corinthians 10.1-2, Moses had a baptism experience in the Red Sea, and Jesus was baptized in the Jordan River. Moses and the Israelites spent forty years in the wilderness; Jesus spent forty days in the wilderness. Moses went up on Mount Sinai to receive the Law; Jesus went up on a mountain to give the law (Sermon on the Mount). There are five books of Moses (Pentateuch); there are five discourses of Jesus’ sermons in the Gospel of Matthew. And “out of Egypt, I called my Son.” Based on this evidence, it is reasonably clear that the fulfillment that Matthew sees in the text of Hosea 11.1 is typological. Even as Israel was God’s typological “son”, Jesus is the true and better messianic Son of God.

In the final analysis, rather than violating the principle of authorial intent in his use of Hosea 11.1, the typological connection drawn by Matthew actually affirms the authorial intent of Hosea. And still, the question remains, “what of God’s intent in Hosea 11.1? When He inspired Hosea to write “out of Egypt, I called my son,” did he know that Matthew would take it in a different direction?” Of course, it is a theological truism to say that God knew the theological connections that Matthew would draw when He inspired Hosea to write, and so it is not wrong to say God “intended” more than Hosea understood at the time. However, this doesn’t mean that His intent stands in contradiction to or competition with the intent of Hosea. We must assume that God’s intent in Hosea 11 was to spark His people to repentance by reminding them of the great depths of His love that was demonstrated in the events of the Exodus, especially because the words of Hosea 11 are reported by the prophet as the very words spoken by God. (This is the Lord’s declaration, Hosea 11.11) Whatever “fuller sense” that we may understand from Hosea’s words, it must be grounded in the inspired intent of the human author, and this is exemplified in Matthew’s use of the text to explain the flight to Egypt.

But there is something that Matthew’s use of the Old Testament can teach us about our own interpretive efforts, namely that our hermeneutic for understanding of the Old Testament must reckon with the person and work of Christ. As Jesus himself affirms, “everything written about me in the Law of Moses, the Prophets, and the Psalms must be fulfilled.” (Luke 24.44) In other words, we have not done our full interpretive work in the Old Testament if we fail to consider how the text points to or is fulfilled in Jesus. If our understanding of the Old Testament would be accepted in a Jewish synagogue, then we haven’t understood the text Christianly. However, this does not mean that we can disregard the principle of authorial intent; we must still labor within the boundaries of literary and historical context before we can consider the broader canonical and theological implications. At the very least, our understanding of the human author’s intent must function as the true and necessary foundation upon which we stand as we seek the illumination of the Spirit in understanding the theological and applicational implications of the text for our lives in Christ. This is a thoroughly Christian understanding of how to interpret the Bible.


On the Problem of Eschatological Imminence

I love Christmas music, both the secular and sacred. When I hear it on the radio, in retail stores, or even in church, it just brings back all the wonderful memories of this time of year from my childhood. So, as the song goes, it’s the holiday season, so hoop-de-do and dickory dock. That means that Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s are right around the corner, and most of us are preoccupied with decorations and presents, parties and planning, and all of the other details that fill our minds during this time of year. But for Christians, this time of year is an invitation to reflect afresh on the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. Traditionally, the season of Advent consists of the four Sundays that lead up to the celebration of Christmas, and it is a time when we are invited to look back on the first coming of Jesus at the incarnation even while we look forward to the second coming of Jesus. For more on this, see my post here.

However, most discussions of our Lord’s second coming always ends up with the same plaguing question, “So, when is he coming? When will it be?” This is a question that has plagued the people of God since the days of Jesus’ earthly ministry, and even before. We can read in the Psalms and prophets of the Old Testament where the people of God cried out in agony wondering, “Lord, how long will the wicked—how long will the wicked celebrate?” (Psalms 94.3), or “How long will you judge unjustly and show partiality to the wicked?” (Psalm 82.2), or even “How long, Lord, must I call for help and you do not listen or cry out to you about violence and you do not save?” (Habakkuk 1.2). This has been the longing of the people of God throughout history, that He would act finally and climatically to put an end to sin, vindicate His people, and establish His perfect reign on earth.

A quick review of the New Testament and what it says about the second coming of Jesus would seem to indicate that these prayers have been answered. In those hallowed pages, we read promises like, “In the same way, when you see all these things, recognize that he is near—at the door.” (Matthew 24.33), and “Look, I am coming soon, and my reward is with me to repay each person according to his work.” (Revelation 22.12), and  “The God of peace will soon crush Satan under your feet.” (Romans 16.20). Words like soon, near, at hand, quickly seem to indicate that the consummation the people of God had waited for so long was imminent and about to be realized, perhaps even within the first century. The reality, of course, is that those words were written some 2000 years ago, and we are still waiting for the return of Jesus in glory and power. This, then, is the problem. What are we to make of the New Testament’s promises of imminence, in light of the fact that we are still waiting for His coming some two millennia later?

There are really three options for answering this problem; however, one of them is out of bounds for those who hold orthodox convictions about the person of Christ and the nature of the Bible. Essentially, this option simply concludes that Jesus and His followers were wrong in their expectation. In other words, Jesus had promised and they believed that He would return in power and glory in the first century, i.e. within their lifetimes, and they were just wrong. But this solution charges both Jesus and the authors of Holy Scripture with error, which is something orthodoxy simply cannot abide. We confess that the Scriptures are wholly inerrant, that the authors of both the Old and New Testaments were kept from error by the Holy Spirit who inspired them. Their words are the very words of God himself; therefore, if they lied, he lied, but he cannot lie. Moreover, we confess that Jesus was God the Son incarnate, the very embodiment of truth. He lived a sinless life in complete obedience to God’s Law; therefore, He cannot and did not lie in anything He said. So, we cannot conclude that Jesus or the Apostles were in error in any way.

Another solution to the apparent problem of eschatological imminence is to reinterpret what Jesus and the New Testament authors meant by His coming. In other words, they did not understand His coming to mean the visible bodily return of Jesus to the earth in power and glory to judge the wicked and vindicate the righteous at the end of time. Rather, when they referred to His coming, they were simply referring to His coming in judgment on the people of Israel who rejected and murdered him, a judgment that was fulfilled when Jerusalem was destroyed by the Romans in 70 AD. This view is usually referred to as preterism, and there is certainly more to it than the definition given here. But its central tenet is that all of the New Testament’s predictions and descriptions of our Lord’s second coming are fulfilled in the first century. The strength of this view is that it seeks to maintain the relevance of the New Testament’s promises of imminence for the biblical audience, and rightly so. However, the conclusion that His coming refers to something other than a visible bodily coming is anticlimactic and unconvincing to say the least. As the church has confessed for nearly two millennia, so also must we affirm that, “He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead and his kingdom will have no end.” (Nicene Creed)

The final solution, and the one that is most commonly accepted, is to reconsider what the Bible means by its promises of imminence. In other words, temporal qualifiers like near, soon, quickly, and at hand may not necessitate immediate fulfillment in the lifetime of Jesus and His first followers. This is even more likely when we remember that typological fulfillment is a typical characteristic of God’s comings throughout biblical history. Moreover, this is exactly how the question is answered within the New Testament itself. In Second Peter chapter 3, Peter addresses this very objection, “Where is his ‘coming’ that he promised?” (2 Peter 3.4). He gives a couple of different answers to this objection, the examination of which is beyond the scope of this post. However, in verse 8, he writes, “Dear friends, don’t overlook this one fact: With the Lord one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years like one day.” In this verse, Peter is saying that eschatological imminence must be considered from the eternal perspective and not from a temporal one; the meaning of words like soon, near, quickly, and at hand must be measured from the perspective of the one who gave the promise to begin with. Of course, some might object that this verse should not be used as a kind of trump card that dismisses the biblical promises of imminence, and they would be right. However, whatever is meant by eschatological imminence, our understanding of those promises must be consistent with the principles outlined in Second Peter chapter 3, because there are no contradictions in the Bible.

In light of this discussion then, we may conclude that the Bible’s promises of eschatological imminence are just as relevant to the people of God today as they were when they were first given. His coming is near; it is at hand. He is coming soon; he is coming quickly. This means that the people of God must live in a constant state of ready expectation and eager anticipation, because this is our blessed hope, “the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ.” (Titus 2.13). And while we wait, may we find ourselves consistently faithful, until we hear those wonderful and precious words, “Well done, good and faithful servant. Enter into the joy of your master.” As our Lord himself said, “Blessed is that servant whom the master finds doing his job when he comes.” (Luke 12.43)


On Three Views for Interpreting the Olivet Discourse

TEXT

24 As Jesus left and was going out of the temple, his disciples came up and called his attention to its buildings. He replied to them, “Do you see all these things? Truly I tell you, not one stone will be left here on another that will not be thrown down.” While he was sitting on the Mount of Olives, the disciples approached him privately and said, “Tell us, when will these things happen? And what is the sign of your coming and of the end of the age?”

Text: Matthew 24-25, c.f. Mark 13, Luke 21
Series: Eschatology: A Study of the End Times
Church: South Caraway Baptist Church, Jonesboro, AR
Date: September 7 , 2022


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