To all whose world was turned upside down October 7, 2023, there is Hope.

Who Is the Messiah?

While traveling in Israel awhile back, I had an interesting conversation with one of our tour guides. As with many guides in Israel, this man’s knowledge of the land and biblical history was phenomenal (he actually knew the New Testament better than many Christians).

At one point in the conversation, I opened my Bible and read Isaiah 53 without telling him the reference. When I finished, I asked him who he thought the writer was talking about. He replied, “He was talking about Jesus, of course. Anybody would know that.” I then asked where he thought I was reading from. He answered, “From Matthew, Mark, Luke, or John, certainly.” When I told him that I had read from Isaiah the prophet, he was astounded and said, “No! Show me that!” He couldn’t believe it.

The majority of Jews today, like my tour guide, are unaware of what their own Scriptures say concerning the Messiah. This lack of knowledge has led many to reject Jesus. In the next few pages, I want to lay out the case for Jesus of Nazareth as the Messiah of Israel in hope that some, having weighed the evidence, will embrace Him as the only One in history who faithfully fulfills the Messianic description given in the Scriptures.

Hanukkah 2,000 Years Ago

Now it was the Feast of Dedication in Jerusalem, and it was winter. And Jesus walked in the temple, in Solomon’s porch. Then the Jews surrounded Him and said to Him, “How long do You keep us in doubt? If You are the [Messiah], tell us plainly.” Jesus answered them, “I told you, and you do not believe …”
–John 10:22–25

The question posed by the Jewish leaders is the question for seekers of all ages: Is Jesus of Nazareth the Messiah? To answer this, we will need to look at several things. First, the meaning of the word Messiah; second, the scriptural expectation of the Messiah, concentrating specifically on the Jews’ anticipation of the Messiah during Jesus’ time, as well as the Messianic expectation among Jews today; and finally, the scriptural portrait of the Messiah.

The Anointed One

“Messiah.” What does this word mean? Most people have heard the term even though they might not know the exact definition. Perhaps you’ve heard of someone having a “messiah complex,” or of longings from certain people for a “Messianic age” to come. If nowhere else, maybe you’ve heard portions of the great musical composition, Handel’s Messiah, performed each year at Christmastime. Anyway, the basic meaning of the word Messiah is “an anointed one.” In the Hebrew Scriptures, the term was used to describe three different categories of people. First, it described priests and kings because they were anointed with oil at God’s command. Second, it referred to the prophets because they were anointed with God’s Spirit as His chosen messengers. The third and primary reference is to the One who would come in the fullness of God’s power to deliver the people of Israel from their enemies and to establish the universal reign of righteousness from Jerusalem.

When we read the New Testament, we generally find the word Christ instead of Messiah to describe the Anointed One because the New Testament was translated from Greek, not from Hebrew. Had it been translated from Hebrew, we would read Joshua Messiah rather than Jesus Christ.

Scriptural Expectations

Throughout history, the Jews anticipated that the Messiah would come, according to God’s promise, as their deliverer. God used the Hebrew prophets to paint a picture of the Messiah so that people would be able to identify Him when He arrived.

Here’s the picture. First, the Messiah is to be a descendant of Abraham. God told him in Genesis 22:18, “In your seed all the nations of the earth shall be blessed.”

As time passed, the revelation became more detailed, and we learn that the Messiah was to come from the tribe of Judah. Abraham had a son named Isaac; Isaac had a son named Jacob; and Jacob had twelve sons. Jacob’s fourth son was named Judah, and according to Genesis 49:10, Shiloh (Messiah) comes from Judah, and to Him shall be the obedience of the people.

As we delve deeper into the Scriptures, we learn that the Messiah was to be a descendant of King David. In 2 Samuel 7:12–13, God, speaking to David, says, “I will set up your seed after you, who will come from your body, … and I will establish the throne of his kingdom forever.”

Later the exact location of the Messiah’s birth was given by the prophet Micah: “But you, Bethlehem … out of you shall come forth to Me the One to be Ruler in Israel …” (Micah 5:2). Prophesying about the same time as Micah, Isaiah declared the Messiah would be miraculously born of a virgin. He wrote, “Therefore the Lord Himself will give you a sign: Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a Son, and shall call His name Immanuel” (Isaiah 7:14).

In Daniel’s prophecy, we are told that the Messiah would be cut off—literally, that He would be executed—and that this would occur before the destruction of the second temple. We read in Daniel 9:26, “Messiah shall be cut off, but not for Himself; and the people of the prince who is to come shall destroy the city and the sanctuary.” We learn from Isaiah 53 that the Messiah would suffer and die as a sacrifice for the sins of Israel and the world. Verses 8 and 10 of Isaiah 53 read: “For He was cut off from the land of the living; for the transgressions of My people, He was stricken … Yet it pleased the LORD to bruise Him; He has put Him to grief. When You make His soul an offering for sin. …”

We are told in Hosea 13:14 that the Messiah would rise from the dead, “O Death, I will be your plagues! O Grave, I will be your destruction!” Finally, Isaiah 9:7 says that He will reign in righteousness forever, and that “of the increase of His government and peace there will be no end.”

These and many other passages give a detailed portrait of the Messiah. If this is the case, why did the Jewish leaders reject Jesus? Tragically, at the time of Jesus, Judaism had undergone a major transformation and was no longer the religious system that God had given to Moses. Instead, it had been greatly altered through the influence of the rabbis. In fact, because of the rabbinical revision of Judaism, certain aspects of the Messiah’s ministry were no longer seen as necessary. For example, under the rabbinical system the sacrifices were seen as more cosmetic than actually expiating sin. With this new understanding, Messiah dying as a sacrifice for sins would be completely senseless. Therefore, the rabbis overlooked this aspect of the Messiah’s mission and emphasized the only thing they believed they needed the Messiah to do: kick out the Romans and set them up as rulers!

According to ^[1]Rabbi David Rosen, the Jews of Jesus’ day expected the Messiah to bring an end to foreign oppression, to gather the Jewish exiles, and to establish an era of universal peace. In other words, they were looking for a political leader who would free them from their long history of oppression and bondage and fulfill God’s promises to the nation.

The rabbis who questioned Jesus in John 10 also envisioned the Messiah as the embodiment of all they held sacred. According to their view, the Messiah would meticulously uphold the written law and their oral tradition. As custodians of the law, they perceived themselves—as did many of the people—to be the most righteous and holy men of the nation. So in their minds, the Messiah would have been a glorified version of themselves.

Among all these misperceptions are scriptural passages that, at first glance, appear to be inconsistent with the more common Jewish concepts of the day. Some of the rabbis wrestled with these things, trying to make sense of them, and their confusion comes out in many of the rabbinic commentaries. For example, we read in Zechariah 9 about the Messiah coming humbly upon a donkey, but in Daniel chapter 7 it is declared that the Son of Man will come in the clouds of heaven. The rabbis read these different passages and thought, “What does this mean, and how could it say this here and say something different there?” One rabbi concluded that God was saying, if the people were undeserving, the Messiah would come in humiliation upon a donkey, but if they were deserving and righteous, He would come in power and glory.

The Scriptures seemed to reveal that Messiah would suffer, experience affliction, and possibly even die. But how could this be reconciled with the promise of an everlasting kingdom? As a result, one rabbi developed a two-Messiah theory: ^[2]One they referred to as Messiah ben [son of] Joseph, the other, Messiah ben [son of] David.

Messiah ben Joseph was also known as the Suffering Messiah. Yet he would not suffer in the way predicted by Isaiah—rejected by Israel and dying as an atonement for their sins—but rather He would be slain in battle fighting Israel’s physical enemies. The [later] second Messiah, Son of David, would come, and as some rabbis suggested, resurrect the Messiah, the son of Joseph. Regardless of whether or not He raised Messiah ben Joseph, Messiah, Son of David, would establish the worldwide kingdom of God.

To further complicate matters, many biblical passages that the ancient rabbis considered to be messianic have not been considered so since around the 11^th century AD. If you ask today’s rabbis, “How do you reconcile that some of your ancient and most revered rabbis understood certain portions of Scripture as messianic, but you no longer accept that interpretation today?” They will simply answer, “We base our final conclusion on majority consensus.” In other words, their logic is that the majority of rabbis do not believe those passages to be messianic, so they dismiss the fact that previous generations of rabbis did consider them so.

Which brings us to the next question: What is the messianic expectation among the Jewish people today?

Branches of Judaism

Out of the three branches of Judaism—Reformed, Conservative, and Orthodox—only Orthodox Jews believe in an actual Messiah who is to come in the future. The others look for a messianic age (an age of universal peace and prosperity) that will come through the collective efforts of humanity.

Orthodox Jews (including the ultra-Orthodox), are still awaiting a Messiah and hold to very distinct beliefs about who He is and what He will do. First, the Messiah will be a man like Moses—not the Son of God. In Deuteronomy 18, Moses said to the children of Israel, “The LORD your God will raise up for you a Prophet like me from your midst, from your brethren.” Based upon this statement, Orthodox Jews are looking for a Messiah who is a man like Moses. He is not supernatural, not born of a virgin, not connected to God in any special way, and He’s definitely not God incarnate. Yet, they expect this man to bring peace and prosperity to Israel and ultimately to the whole world.

Second, if you ask an Orthodox Israeli Jew, “How will you identify the Messiah?” many will answer, “We will know the Messiah because He will help us to rebuild our temple.” I have personally been given this answer when speaking to Jews in Israel. As for scriptural criteria—the biblical description of the Messiah—it is largely dismissed as irrelevant.

Because Jews throughout the ages have consistently refused to use scriptural criteria to identify the Messiah, they have, on many occasions over the centuries, put their hope in false messiahs.

Let me give just two quick examples. Around AD 132–135, approximately one hundred years after the time of Jesus, there arose a man in Israel whom the people hailed as Messiah, believing he would finally liberate them from Roman oppression. He was given the name Bar Kochba (son of a Star); his rebellion is known historically as the Bar Kochba revolt. Of course, those who believed in Jesus knew Bar Kochba was not the Messiah and did not follow him, but most of the Jews inhabiting the land at the time embraced him and followed in his revolt against Rome. Ultimately, the Roman Emperor Hadrian crushed the revolt, leveled Jerusalem, and expelled the Jews from the land. The city was renamed Aelia Capitolina, and the land renamed Palestine, in honor of the Philistines, Israel’s ancient foes.

In 1993, as I was driving through Jerusalem, all throughout the city I saw banners that proclaimed: “Messiah is coming.” The expectation was that ninety-one-year-old Rabbi Schneerson would publicly announce that he was the Messiah. Schneerson died the next year, to the dismay of his followers. Ironically, some of them claimed that he would rise from the dead! On a more recent trip to Israel, I noticed banners announcing the expected return of Rabbi Schneerson. Astonishing! These are just two examples among many, in a long history of would-be messiahs that have come and gone over the past two thousand years. Having rejected the full picture of the Messiah found in Scripture and focusing on only one aspect of his purpose—ushering in universal peace—the nation of Israel has set itself up for deception and fallen victim to false messiahs again and again. All the while, One from among them has been embraced by untold millions globally as the true Messiah of Israel and Savior of the world.

Is Jesus the Messiah?

The first thing we must ask is: does Jesus meet the scriptural criteria?

The answer is a resounding yes! In fact, He’s the only One who did, and He met it in a way that would be impossible to do today. This is another reason why the scriptural criteria are largely ignored by present-day Jews.

According to the Scriptures, the Messiah must be a descendent of David.

“Behold, the days are coming,” says the LORD, “that I will raise to David a Branch of righteousness; a King shall reign and prosper, and execute judgment and righteousness in the earth.”
–Jeremiah 23:5

Even today, orthodox Jews agree that the Messiah must be a descendant of David. But the reality is nobody on earth can prove that they are descended from David. They might claim to be descended from David, but there is no way to prove whether or not those claims are true.

Second, the Messiah had to be born in Bethlehem.

“But you, Bethlehem Ephrathah, though you are little among the thousands of Judah, yet out of you shall come forth to Me the One to be ruler in Israel, whose goings forth are from old, from everlasting.”
–Micah 5:2

A Messiah born in Bethlehem is a massive problem today since Bethlehem is no longer a Jewish city. Bethlehem is presently an Arab city under the control of the Palestinian Authority.

There is also the prophecy of Messiah’s entrance into Jerusalem upon a donkey.

“Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion! Shout, O daughter of Jerusalem! Behold, your King is coming to you; He is just and having salvation, lowly and riding on a donkey, a colt, the foal of a donkey.”
–Zechariah 9:9

This prophecy tells us that this would have had to occur at a time in history when people rode on donkeys or horseback and when riding into a city as a king on a donkey would be considered an act of humiliation. In King David’s time, riding into Jerusalem on a donkey or mule (which was the case with Solomon) was not shameful; by the time of the Roman occupation, however, a king riding on a donkey would have been considered utterly degrading.

The one point that finalizes the Jewish dilemma and reveals that Jesus is the only One who meets the scriptural criteria for Messiah is that Messiah had to come before the dispersion of Judah and before the destruction of the second temple. In Genesis 49:10, as Jacob prophesied over his sons, he said regarding Judah, “The scepter shall not depart from Judah … until Shiloh comes.” The ancient rabbis agreed that Shiloh refers to the Messiah. Jacob specifically prophesied that Judah would still exist as an identifiable nation when the Messiah arrived. During the days of Jesus, Judah was all that remained of the once-great kingdom of Israel. The rest of the nation had been dispersed in 721 BC when the Assyrians invaded the northern kingdom and led Israel into captivity to Assyria, from which they never formally returned.

Later, in 586 BC, the southern kingdom of Judah was taken in captivity to Babylon, but a remnant returned seventy years later, and Judah again became an identifiable nation and remained so until the Romans destroyed Jerusalem in AD 70. It is important to note that Daniel prophesied during the Babylonian exile that Messiah would come, that He would be cut off, and “the people of the prince who is to come shall destroy the city and the sanctuary” (Daniel 9:24–26).

Amazingly, the ancient rabbis believed the Messiah would come at the very time that Jesus came. You would think at some point someone would connect the dots and realize that the Messiah did come exactly when He was prophesied to come.

Jesus not only met the scriptural criteria, but He said He was the Messiah, and He said it numerous times. When the Samaritan woman said, “I know that Messiah is coming … He will tell us all things.” Jesus answered her, “I who speak to you am He” (John 4:25–26). When the Pharisees said, “How long do You keep us in suspense? If You are the Christ, tell us plainly.” Jesus answered them, “I told you, and you do not believe” (John 10:24–25). Jesus responded to the messianic title “Son of David,” as well as affirming to John the Baptist that He was the “Coming One.”

The point that stands out above all else is that He testified under oath before the high priest that He was the Messiah, the Son of the Living God. I find it absolutely amazing that Jesus stood before the Jewish high priest and the Sanhedrin and declared himself to be the Messiah, something no other person had or has ever done!

As the high priest questioned Him, Jesus stood silently while false accusations were made against Him. Finally, to compel Jesus to answer, the high priest said, “I put You under oath by the living God: Tell us if You are the Christ, the Son of God!” (Matthew 26:63). Jesus answered, “I am. And you will see the Son of Man sitting at the right hand of the Power, and coming with the clouds of heaven” (Mark 14:62). (Note, the Son of Man is another messianic title found in Daniel 7.)

Everlasting Righteousness and Peace

As has been said, one of the major reasons Jews reject Jesus as Messiah is because of their belief that Messiah will usher in an everlasting kingdom of peace. According to the rabbis, Jesus didn’t do that, therefore He cannot possibly be the Messiah. Jesus did, however, usher in an era of righteousness and peace for people on a personal level and will in the future bring about an everlasting universal peace. Down through the ages, millions upon millions have known the righteousness and peace that comes through faith in the Lord Jesus, many of them Jews.

I was recently skimming through a book written by a Jewish believer in Jesus. In the book, the author told the story of being at Speakers’ Corner in London’s Hyde Park (where you can literally stand on your soapbox and preach anything you want) sometime in the late sixties or early seventies. He related that while he was passing through the park, there was a man at Speakers’ Corner who was standing on a ladder boldly proclaiming his atheism. The atheist was mocking and ridiculing the Christian faith, and he said that it was a “fact” that even the Jews had rejected Jesus as the Messiah. Essentially, his argument was that if the Jews had rejected Jesus as the Messiah, then nobody else should believe He is the Messiah. He also claimed that no Jews had ever believed in Jesus.

The author was standing in the crowd listening to this man when he suddenly interrupted and said, “Sir, excuse me, can I come up on your ladder?” The atheist said, “What? What do you mean ‘come up on my ladder?’” The Jewish man answered, “Yes, I’d like to climb up on your ladder.” The atheist said, “There’s no room up here. Why do you want to come up here?” The Jewish man answered, “I want to come up there to show that you’re mistaken, because I am a Jew, I believe in Jesus, and I believe that He is the Messiah, the Savior of the world. I just thought that other people ought to see someone that you say doesn’t exist.”

The atheist came down from his ladder, and the Jewish man climbed up, and as he was speaking with the crowd, another man in the crowd spoke up and asked, “Sir, do you have another ladder?” The atheist responded, “No, why do you need another ladder?” The man said, “Because I’m also a Jew who believes in Jesus, and so is my wife, and we’d like to come up there with our friend and show you that you’re not only mistaken once, but twice.” The point is that even though much of the Jewish nation rejected the messianic claims of Jesus, many Jews have received Him—especially in the early days of the church—and many are receiving Him today.

The Suffering Servant

Every year, the Scriptures are read, in their entirety, in the synagogue. Yet one chapter of Scripture the rabbis will not allow—Isaiah 53. The reason Isaiah 53 is excluded from the annual reading is the rabbis fear that someone hearing it might be inclined to believe that it is speaking of Jesus. Of course, the New Testament applies Isaiah 53 to Jesus several times, and even the ancient rabbis believed Isaiah 53 to be messianic. It wasn’t until the 11^th century that the famous rabbinical scholar ^[3]Rashi developed a new perspective, which has held sway ever since and is the standard rabbinic interpretation. That new perspective essentially states that Isaiah 53 was not a messianic prophecy but a prophecy of the Jewish people and their suffering.

Jewish people certainly have suffered. It’s one of the great tragedies of history. Sadly, they have suffered mercilessly at the hands of so-called Christians. Nevertheless, Isaiah 53 is not speaking of the sufferings of the Jewish people and can only be misconstrued if one completely ignores the details of the text. Rashi’s justification for this new interpretation was based on chapter 53 being a continuation of the Servant Song that begins in Isaiah 49. In that passage, the prophet speaks of the servant as Israel, hence, the interpretation of Isaiah 53 being Israel. Yet, if you read Isaiah 49 carefully, you will discover that while the servant is named Israel, the task of the servant who is named Israel is to bring Israel back to God.

“Israel” was the name given to Jacob, which literally means “God prevails or governed by God.” In Isaiah 49, the person who embodies the ideal of what Israel was intended to be can only be the Messiah because He was truly the only Israelite ever completely governed by God.

To reiterate, the ancient rabbis saw these passages as messianic, but modern rabbis reject the messianic implications. Anyone who is willing to take them at face value, however, will conclude that the modern rabbis are mistaken. For those who are willing to believe, the evidence is clear, and it is available to everyone in the pages of the Gospels.

Embracing the evidence for Jesus as Messiah is not all there is to it though. You can believe something to be true yet not commit yourself to the full implications of that truth. All the time, people are coming from atheism and agnosticism to belief in God—believing that God exists—yet they are still unwilling to surrender their lives to Him. This, in many ways, is the real issue. If you become convinced that Jesus is Messiah, are you willing to surrender your life to Him? That is the question. Even as I write this, I’m thinking of the fascinating story of ^[4]Arthur Catz and his coming to faith in Jesus from a Jewish background. His experience perfectly illustrates my point. In his book, Ben Israel: Odyssey of a Modern Jew, Katz describes how after a long journey and much research, he came to believe that Jesus was indeed the Messiah of Israel. It was while reading the story of the woman caught in adultery and brought to Jesus by the religious leaders for stoning; as he read the response of Jesus, ^[5]“he that is without sin among you, let him cast the first stone,” Katz knew beyond any doubt that Jesus was Israel’s Messiah and the Savior of the world. Although this was an earthshaking moment for Katz, which he records so powerfully in the book, yet this was not the end of the struggle. There was still the issue of relinquishing the control of his life over to God, of receiving Jesus as Lord, and surrendering his will to the will of God. The ancient Rabbi’s said, ^[6]“The world was not created but only for the Messiah.” We are part of that world, and we were created to know, love, and serve Him with all our heart, soul, strength, and mind.

Conclusion

As we look at the big picture, Jesus of Nazareth is the only man in history who meets the criteria given in the Scriptures to be the Messiah. Since there are no other candidates from the past and no possibility in the future for anyone to meet those criteria, we can honestly conclude that if Jesus is not the Messiah, there is no Messiah, and any Jew waiting for the Messiah is waiting in vain.

I conclude with the question sent by John ben Zacharias to Jesus and the response he received:

“Are You the Coming One, or do we look for another?” … “Go and tell John the things you have seen and heard: that the blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have the gospel preached to them. And blessed is he who is not offended because of Me.”
–Luke 7:20, 22–23

^[1] Former Chief Rabbi of Ireland.
^[2] Rabbi Shimon ben Yohai, 11^th Century.
^[3] Rabbi Shlomo ben Yitzchak, 1040–1105.
^[4] Jewish Marxist/Atheist turned Christian Evangelist and Author.
^[5] Gospel of John 8:1–11.
^[6] SANH 98 b.

Editor’s Note: This is from Messiah, Copyright © 2024 by Brian Brodersen.

Editor’s Note: This year, Yom Kippur begins at sunset on Friday, October 11th, and ends at nightfall on Saturday, October 12th.

The Day of Atonement, or Yom Kippur, is the most solemn day in Israel’s religious calendar, a time for comprehensive purification and renewal of the covenantal relationship between God and the people. This annual observance, described in Leviticus 16, provided a way for Israel to address the accumulated sins and impurities that threatened their standing before a holy God. Central to this ritual is the high priest, who alone enters the Holy of Holies to make atonement for himself, his household, and all of Israel.

On this sacred day, the high priest first bathes, clothes himself in linen garments, then offers a bull as a sin offering for his own sins, ensuring he is cleansed before entering the holy presence of God. Afterward, the two goats described in Leviticus 16 are presented to the people. The first goat, chosen by lot, is sacrificed as a sin offering for the people. Its blood is sprinkled on the mercy seat in the Holy of Holies, purifying the sanctuary itself from the defilement caused by the people’s sins throughout the year. This act symbolizes the cleansing of both the people and the holy space, allowing God’s presence to remain among them.

The second goat, known as the scapegoat, is defined as the Azazel. The Hebrew word Azazel is only used in the 16th chapter of Leviticus. It is a mysterious word that can mean “off a cliff,” “desert place,” or even “demon.” After the high priest lays his hands on this goat and confesses all the sins of Israel, essentially transferring the guilt of the people onto the Azazel, the goat is then sent into the wilderness, bearing the people’s sins. There was a visible presentation of the complete removal of sin from the people of Israel, demonstrating that sin is not only atoned for through blood but also taken away, never to return. The use of the two goats highlights the dual nature of atonement: the need for both expiation (the cleansing of sin) and propitiation (the substitution of the animal’s life in exchange for the forgiveness and new life granted by God, as explained in Leviticus 17:11 through the significance of blood).

In this way, the Day of Atonement emphasizes the seriousness of sin and the holiness of God. It is a day of fasting, self-denial, and repentance, where the people reflect on their need for God’s forgiveness. This observance was performed once every year — to recognize the need for sacrificial atonement to cover the sins of the people and restore fellowship with God.

Hebrews 9 draws a direct connection between the Day of Atonement and the ultimate atonement made by Jesus Christ. In the Old Testament, the high priest had to enter the earthly sanctuary every year with the blood of animals, but these sacrifices could never fully remove sin. They served as a temporary covering, pointing forward to something greater. In contrast, Christ, as the true High Priest, entered not an earthly sanctuary but the heavenly Holy of Holies. He did not offer the blood of goats and bulls but His own blood, securing eternal redemption (Hebrews 9:12). Jesus, through His death and resurrection, became sin, so that we can become the righteousness of God (2 Cor 5:21) — Jesus fulfills the entire purpose of Yom Kippur. Like the first goat, His sacrifice cleanses from sin. Like the Azazel scapegoat, He took away our sins completely, offering perfect and final atonement for all humanity. Thus, the ritual of the Day of Atonement foreshadows the complete and eternal work of Jesus Christ, who removes sin once and for all.

A few summers ago, our family drove across the country and ended up visiting Yosemite National Park for a few days. On the final day, we parked at Tunnel View (which gives you the best views of the entire park; seriously, Google it!) which is literally just a stop on the side of the highway. Many people were coming and going, and a few stopped to jump out of their cars — which happened to still be running — only to snap a quick picture and keep moving on to the next stop. It was quite shocking to me how quickly people came and went, believing that twelve seconds was sufficient to take in one of the most stunning portraits of God’s creation on the planet. Some things are so astounding, breathtaking, and beautiful that they need more than just a quick glance or a fading Instagram story!

As Christ followers, many of us can manage to read through the entire book of Acts, or Romans chapter 8, or other significant passages where the Holy Spirit is mentioned throughout the Scriptures and commit the same error as those rushed tourists at Yosemite. However, a longer, second look is needed. Let’s investigate four realities of the Holy Spirit every believer must understand:

1. The Holy Spirit was Promised.

Acts chapter 2 takes place after the resurrection of Jesus, after his multiple public sightings for at least forty days, as well as after his ascension. There are 120 or so believers who were told by Jesus himself to wait in Jerusalem for the promised Holy Spirit, whom Jesus had said they would be baptized with not many days from now. He explained that the Holy Spirit would bestow the church with the necessary power to be his witnesses in both the city of Jerusalem, the greater area of Judea, and even to those outside of their racial or ethnic comfort zone (Samaria). This would not be a merely localizedreligion — this would extend beyond Jew to Gentile, and beyond Jerusalem to even the farthest corners of the earth.

Acts 2:1 says, “When the day of Pentecost arrived, they were all together in one place.”

This is the Feast of Pentecost, exactly fifty days after the Passover when Jesus died at Calvary. This feast was an occasion when the Israelite farmers brought their first fruit offerings of grain to Jerusalem, where there would be much festivity, as well as the reading of the book of Ruth. So there are about 120 believers all in one place, and notice what happens next:

2 And suddenly there came from heaven a sound like a mighty rushing wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. 3 And divided tongues as of fire appeared to them and rested on each one of them. 4 And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit gave them utterance.

We get the “firstfruits” of the Spirit’s empowering witness right in the next few verses:

5 Now there were dwelling in Jerusalem Jews, devout men from every nation under heaven. 6 And at this sound the multitude came together, and they were bewildered, because each one was hearing them speak in his own language.

This was not gibberish; these were literal, recognizable, uttered languages. This was astounding because the ones who were precisely speaking other languages and dialects were simple Galileans — not necessarily the university grads in the community!

7 And they were amazed and astonished, saying, “Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? 8 And how is it that we hear, each of us in his own native language? 9 Parthians and Medes and Elamites and residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, 10 Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene, and visitors from Rome, 11 both Jews and proselytes, Cretans and Arabians — we hear them telling in our own tongues the mighty works of God.” 12 And all were amazed and perplexed, saying to one another, “What does this mean?” 13 But others mocking said, “They are filled with new wine.”

The misunderstanding that they may be drunk came from those who heard multiple languages being spoken that they couldn’t understand. But as James and John begin speaking of the mighty works of God, the Elamite and Libyan both perk their heads up and say, “Oh wait — they’re not babbling like a bunch of drunks — I can understand them!” So Peter stands up and begins to share the Gospel, saying (verse 15):

For these people are not drunk, as you suppose, since it is only the third hour of the day. But this is what was uttered through the prophet Joel: “ ‘And in the last days it shall be, God declares, that I will pour out my Spirit on all flesh”

Peter says this isn’t from the influence of too many mimosas; this is a fulfillment of that verse in Joel which we all know: God has promised to pour out his Spirit in the last days, and we’re seeing that promise come to pass!

This isn’t the only place the Spirit was promised by God. Jesus promised the Spirit in John 7:37-38 when he described living water flowing from the heart of the one who believed in him — a reference to the Spirit who hadn’t yet been given. In John 16, Jesus promised the Spirit would come and that he would guide us into all truth. There are many more that time won’t permit, but we praise and thank the Father and the Son not only for promising the Spirit, but being faithful to sendthe Spirit to the church.

2. The Holy Spirit is a Person.

John 14:16-17 says, “And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Helper, to be with you forever, 17 even the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him nor knows him. You know him, for he dwells with you and will be in you.”

We refer to the Holy Spirit as the third “person” of the Trinity. When we refer to people, we use personal pronouns, therefore the Holy Spirit should never be referred to as “it.” Some call him the “Holy Ghost,” but I think even that terminology can imply an impersonal force, or wind. Part of what was called ‘the Arian heresy’ was to imply that only the Father was truly God and that Jesus was a created being, thus the Holy Spirit was merely an essence. The Jehovah’s Witnesses propagate this false teaching, but Scripture is pretty clear: the Holy Spirit of God has knowledge (1 Cor 2:10-11), a will (1 Cor 12:11), a mind (Rom 8:27), he loves (Rom 15:30), reveals (Acts 13:2), intercedes (Romans 8:26), teaches (John 14:26), guides (Acts 16:6-7), can be grieved (Eph 4:30), insulted (Heb 10:29), lied to (Acts 5:3), and blasphemed (Matt 12:31-32). These can only be referring to a person.

God didn’t leave us as orphans; Jesus would ask the Father for another Helper — a Person like himself. This means that the Spirit is a distinct and co-equal person of the Trinity. The Scriptures tells us that the Holy Spirit is:

• Involved in creation (Genesis 1:2)
• Involved in the incarnation (Luke 1:35)
• Involved in salvation (Ephesians 1:13-14)
• Involved in the resurrection of Christ (Romans 8:11)
• Involved in judgment (Acts 5 — Ananias & Sapphira)

How did the person of the Holy Spirit work in your salvation? Titus 3 says:

3 For we ourselves were once foolish, disobedient, led astray, slaves to various passions and pleasures, passing our days in malice and envy, hated by others and hating one another.

Paul tells Titus that this was their state prior to salvation: mentally and morally corrupt, lacking both sense as well as sensibility. Before we were in Christ, we were empty-headed, empty-hearted, deceived, enslaved, oppressed, and subjugated to malevolence and hostility. Though Paul and Titus use the pronoun “we,” he wasn’t referring only to them! This is the natural state of all unbelievers. Then we come to a radical breakthrough in verses 4-5:

4 But when the goodness and loving kindness of God our Savior appeared, 5 he saved us, not because of works done by us in righteousness, but according to his own mercy,

In stark contrast to the envy and hatred espoused by the unbelieving world, the good, loving, kind God — whom Paul emphasizes is our Savior — broke into our lawless, rebellious state of confusion. God didn’t measure our good works on one side of the scale hoping to outweigh our wickedness — NO! He didn’t tell us to look within ourselves for the answers, as if meditation, self-realization, or the enneagram would save us. God isn’t a cheerleader on the sidelines motivating us to save ourselves, because that’s impossible. We need something more than a motivator — we need a Mediator — someone to look upon our sad state of spiritual plight and come to our rescue. Paul says God appeared, and he saved us — and it wasn’t because of our works but according to his own mercy. Then notice what Paul tells Titus:

by the washing of regeneration and renewal of the Holy Spirit, 6 whom he poured out on us richly through Jesus Christ our Savior, 7 so that being justified by his grace we might become heirs according to the hope of eternal life.

There’s a radical, new beginning in the life of the previously dead-and-disobedient when Jesus Christ justifies us (which means to declare us righteous before a holy God). Notice Paul uses the same term for Jesus that he just did for God — “our Savior.” We can’t save ourselves; we must yield completely to Jesus our Savior: He has justified us by his grace and has made us inheritors of the hope of eternal life. But how did this new life begin? Paul explains to Titus that this spiritual birth happens when the Holy Spirit has been given to us. Notice we have the person of God the Father in verse 4, the person of Jesus the Son in verse 6 — and the person of the Holy Spirit here in verse 5.

Paul tells Titus the washing of regeneration and renewal came to us through the person of the Holy Spirit, whom God poured out on us richly through Jesus Christ. ‘Washing’ describes our baptism into Jesus Christ — our identification with Jesus in his death, burial, and resurrection — which is spiritual, but we commemorate this with the outward, visible sign of water baptism which speaks of an inward cleansing from the old flesh. All who are saved in Christ have been renewed and regenerated by the person of the Holy Spirit.

3. The Holy Spirit is a Provider.

There are many activities or ministries that the Holy Spirit provides to our spiritual life — but here are eight:

• Convicts (John 16:8-15)
• Regenerates (John 3:1-8; Titus 3:5; I Peter 1:23-25; James 1:18)
• Seals (Ephesians 1:13-14, 4:30)
• Indwells / baptizes believers (I Corinthians 6:19; Romans 8:9; John 14:16; I Corinthians 12:13)
• Gifts (I Corinthians 12:7-11)
• Guides (John 16:13-15)
• Produces fruit (Galatians 5:22-23)
• Fills (Ephesians 5:15-21; Galatians 5:16)

Notice the progression here: the Son proceeded from the Father, and the Holy Spirit of God proceeded from both the Father and Son to be poured out on God’s people — convicting us before we were saved, but then regenerating us, sealing us, dwelling within us and baptizing us into Christ. The Holy Spirit gives us gifts which allow us to minister to his people, and guides us to be effective for his kingdom. The Holy Spirit produces the fruit of Christ’s character as we abide in him, and fills us with the strength to walk in a manner pleasing to him.

In the fourth and fifth stanza of Come, Holy Spirit, Come! (Joseph Hart, 1759), we sing these words:

‘Tis Thine to cleanse the heart,
To sanctify the soul,
To pour fresh life into each part,
And new-create the whole.
Dwell, therefore, in our hearts;
Our minds from bondage free;
Then shall we know and praise and love
The Father, Son, and Thee.

God has been faithful to give his church the Promise of the Holy Spirit, which has nothing to do with unbiblical experiences, or feelings, or fluff — but has everything to do with the Person of the Holy Spirit, so that we would receive the Provision of the Holy Spirit — resulting in us experiencing the Power of the Holy Spirit.

4. The Holy Spirit gives Power

Jesus told his disciples in Acts 1:8 that they would receive “power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you, and you will be my witnesses…” Apart from the Holy Spirit’s power, the disciples would never have been empowered nor emboldened to share the triumph of Christ’s resurrection with those who had never heard. But the empowering doesn’t only involve the Christian’s mission. The Spirit’s empowerment begins much sooner, and closer to home. Romans 8:1-9 walks us through this transformative enabling in our sanctification.

Just as every Christian is “in Christ,” the Holy Spirit dwells within every Christian! 1 Corinthians 6 and other passages teach us that our bodies are the Spirit’s temple. God’s Holy Spirit dwells within us, giving us renewal, and when we set our mind on the Spirit we experience life and peace. This is how we live and walk — with the presence of the Holy Spirit residing within us. He has been poured out upon us and now indwells all believers. The word for a person who doesn’t have the Holy Spirit is ‘unbeliever‘! Every Christian may not speak in tongues (1 Cor 12:30 makes that easily clear), but every Christian — every single one — has the Holy Spirit. That’s both indisputable as well as comforting.

Doesn’t it strike you that the defining attribute of the Spirit of God is his holiness? Of all the adjectives to put in front of “Spirit” — it’s HOLY that God wanted us to truly grasp. He is set apart, and when we submit our lives to the work of the Holy Spirit, he produces renewal and enables us to walk in fruitful obedience.

What else does the power of the Spirit give us? In the midst of a corrupted, confusing, groaning creation, we have at least two important things:

Assurance

The Holy Spirit assures us of our sonship by adoption, testifying for us and to us that we are indeed God’s children. He has indeed not left us as orphans; God’s Spirit settles the debate in our hearts when our conscience condemns us. Like the new believers at Pentecost, we too have the firstfruits of the Spirit — the deposit given at the beginning of the harvest which guarantees that there’s much more to come. One day, we will exchange cross for crown, suffering for glory, and the not yet will merge with the already as we see the final redemption and restoration of the new heavens and new earth, with Christ consummating his glorious kingdom. For this, we have a sure hope, even though we don’t see it.

The Holy Spirit also gives the believer: Assistance

The word Jesus uses to describe the Spirit is “Paraklete,” our alongside-Helper. He helps us in our human, limited frailties to pray for God’s will even when we can’t find the right words. He picks up where human words and human knowledge fail, and he prays for us! We aren’t left to ourselves to pray, and thankfully, we aren’t left to ourselves to save ourselves. He has already foreknown, predestined, called, justified, and glorified us.

So we have assurance and assistance in our sanctification — available to us as the Holy Spirit takes up his rightful residence within us.

J.I. Packer said, “All who are realistic about themselves are from time to time overwhelmed with a sense of inadequacy. All Christians time and again are forced to cry, “Lord, help me, strengthen me, enable me, give me power to speak and act in the way that pleases You, make me equal to the demands and pressures which I face!”

Within Romans 8, we learn that belonging to Christ means to have the Spirit, but being in Christ isn’t to escape pain, pressure, or suffering. Some preach that message, “Come to Jesus and you will stop suffering!” But we know the truth of the Gospel is an invitation to “come and suffer with Christ.” In this broken and fallen creation, we will suffer. But even in the suffering, the Holy Spirit assures us of our sonship and assists us in our weakness — so in the battle we’re enabled to become more than conquerors.

Amy Carmichael once penned these thoughts:

“Sometimes when we read the words of those who have been more than conquerors, we feel almost despondent. I feel that I shall never be like that. But they won through step-by-step by little bits of wills, little denials of self, little inward victories by faithfulness in very little things. They became what they are. No one sees these little hidden steps. They only see the accomplishment, but even so, those small steps were taken. There is no sudden triumph … That is the work of the moment.”

I would add — that’s the work of the Spirit! In the small moments, when no one is around, we must yield to the Spirit’s work, the Spirit’s help, the Spirit’s guidance, the Spirit’s power. He is our divine Helper, given to the church to make us more like Jesus.

After taking a longer, second look, are you experiencing the power of the Holy Spirit in your life, believer? Are you working out your salvation in your own strength, or relying on the holy provision God has given us in the person of his Spirit? May we echo the same prayer Robert Hawker prayed:

“Blessed promise! Holy Spirit, make it happen in and upon my soul, day by day. Bring me under the continued baptisms of your sovereign influence, and cause me to feel all the sweet anointings of the Spirit sent down upon the hearts and minds of your redeemed. These are the fruits and effects of Jesus, the promise of God the Father. Yes, blessed Spirit, cause me to know you in your person, work, and power:

“I need you day by day as my Comforter.
I need you as the Spirit of truth, to guide me into all truth.
I need you as the one who reminds me of the Lord Jesus, to bring to my forgetful heart all the blessed things he has revealed to me.
I need you, as the witness of my Jesus, to testify of my wants, and of his fullness to supply.I need you as my advocate and helper, in all my infirmities in prayer.
I need you as the deposit of the promised inheritance, that I may not faint or lack faith to hold on and hold out in every dark season.
I need you, Lord. I cannot do a moment without you, nor act in faith, nor believe a promise, nor exercise a grace, without your constant hand on my poor soul.
Come then, Lord, I beg you, and let me be brought under your unceasing baptisms. Shed abroad the love of God my Father in my heart, and direct me into the patient waiting for Jesus Christ. Amen.”

References

https://hymnary.org/text/come_holy_spirit_come_let_thy_bright_bea
https://www.cslewisinstitute.org/resources/keep-in-step-with-the-spirit/
Tim Hansel, Holy Sweat, 1987, Word Books Publisher, p. 130

This summer, I was blessed to attend the Refresh Europe Conference. Over the years, it’s changed, with more time given to friendships and teaching aimed at renewal. As a person in full-time ministry, I enjoy these times more and more, as well as the encouragement they give my family. They’re a reminder of rest and grace.

On one of the days, I was lazing through the library and found an older copy of a book that was such a game changer for me: Why Grace Changes Everything. Looking at it brought back many warm memories of a simpler time in my ministry and walk with the Lord. With chapters like “The Door is Never Closed,” “No Favorites in the Kingdom,” or “Won’t They Go Wild,” I realize how much I need to remember. With time, we know that though people and situations are complex, this can leave us worn and tired until we rest on an everlasting Gospel of Grace. I’d like to remember a few of the foundational tenets of the Gospel, inspired by Galatians 1:3-5.

There’s no better place to begin than Paul’s usual greeting, Grace and Peace — the heart of the Gospel. We know this is a standard greeting, and digging into the origin of the words in their historical context brings out a rich study, but I don’t want to take it too far. This is also the heart of everything we hope to see happen in our lives. We want to know God’s unlimited and unmerited favor in every aspect of our lives. I want to experience more of that holistic life-encompassing peace meant by the Hebrew word Shalom. The Galatians had forgotten that grace is not something to be earned. Even though expectations flow from grace as understood in Romans 12:1, a reasonable worship of a life submitted to the Savior—there’s a fine line between thanking and earning. We can live in thankfulness as we seek to live in a way we know pleases God. For example, I can preach to my congregation with a heart of thankfulness as I show through a text how excellent Jesus is. Or, I can seek to earn or impress the people I preach to as if I were trying to earn their approval, as if they were my boss or some distant family member. This is the opposite of grace, leaving the pastor and congregation empty.

God’s grace isn’t like that; it’s more of a rich, eternal banquet of all that’s good. His heart was shown in the Father sending the Son, the only One who truly deserves His approval, and substituting Him for us in His sinless perfection. This brings us deep peace that doesn’t fear being found out for who we really are because we are now God’s son or daughter. All anyone could hope to have earned is already accomplished in Jesus. This requires resting, accepting, and trusting. Nor does this grace lend itself to criticism, thinking it’s all too good to be true. It’s like the cooling effects of a pool or lake on a scorching summer’s day that brings the body temperature down to more liveable levels. The body of water is greater than the person who needs cooling and welcomes all who will come. This is God’s heart toward us; Paul shares it with his readership, us, even 2000 years later. Grace and Peace to each one of you!

Next, we turn to our only hope — Redemption through Jesus. When I think about this summer living in Paris, we began with surprise parliamentary elections, something the government is still trying to recover from as I write these words. We’re still trying to navigate the special Olympic Inflation and the Open Paganism Controversy that the entire world was privileged to watch on TV. In all this uncertainty, people seem to be looking out for themselves. It’s a natural part of a society that often debates truth, knowledge, and justice. For example, every year in France, high school-aged students (Lycéens) take a nationwide Baccalaureate test to continue their university education. Part of it is a four-hour philosophy test. This year’s questions were: Can science satisfy our need for truth? Or Does the State owe (us) anything? Through these questions, we can read into what people are struggling with, and it seems there might not be a lot of hope.

The Galatians looked to the law to make them right in God’s sight because false teachers were seeking to use their adhesion to their teaching for their glory. I imagine it like head-counting, as if to say the guys with the most clout and prestige had the most followers or congregations. This goes back to trying to earn a special place of prominence, like Pastor Chuck’s chapter on being “God’s Favorite.” In Jesus, we have everything opposite. He gave Himself, the only innocent One, to buy back with what was precious (Himself), what was lost to the dishonor and shame of our sin. Martin Luther said, “The Gospel is a doctrine that condemns all sorts of human righteousness and preaches the sole righteousness of Christ. To those who accept this, it brings peace of conscience and all good things, yet the world hates and persecutes it bitterly.”^[1] If we step back, it seems almost too strange to be true. Why be hateful to the one who has made such a personal investment to save us? Jesus isn’t the distanced investor who analyzes and calmly decides where to act. He has already accomplished all that was ever necessary. Yes, this age we live in is still evil, but we have hope that it’s alive and can never be taken away from us; Jesus redeemed us, and He gave His life to secure it!

Lastly, at the risk of sounding too much like a line from Star Wars, I want to remember what brings perfect balance, unity, and renewal — giving glory to God. Here’s the danger of an “everyone looking out for themselves, fighting to prove their merit in the world” society: it makes people into their idols through covetousness. Dallas Willard puts it this way: “To allow lust (or strong desires) to govern our lives is to exalt our will over God’s. That is why Paul called covetousness “idolatry” (Ephesians 5:5; Colossians 3:5). We are the idols, in that case, prepared to sacrifice the well-being and possessions of others to ourselves.”^[2] When one person’s glory interferes with another, a struggle must ensue, or someone must back down. In this way, glory-seekers are, by nature, absolute monarchs, which is why glory-seeking allows only one winner. What happens when the only one who deserves to win isn’t present? What happens when an underserving, ambitious person succeeds? Our world is teeming with such tragic tales.

Here’s a better story that gives a weary soul life and proper rest. Jesus is worthy of glory, but He didn’t choose to seek it. He decided to pursue His Father’s glory and lose all. His glory was His cross. Therefore, His life brings glory to the Father, who in turn gives glory to the Son. He made His name so great that every knee would bow. One day we’ll see it. Then, when all glory goes to the right place, genuine balance returns because the struggle for glory is over. In as much as it’s possible today, giving glory to God opens the door to authentic renewal. It’s a celebration of grace and to borrow a favorite author’s title—that’s what changes everything.

References

^[1] Luther, Martin. Galatians. Crossway. Kindle Edition. p. 21.
^[2] Willard, Dallas. Renovation of the Heart: Putting on the Character of Christ – 20th Anniversary Edition. The Navigators. Kindle Edition. pp. 219-220.

“but his disciples took him by night and let him down through an opening in the wall, lowering him in a basket” (Acts 9:25)

Biblical narrative is full of comedic expression: characters are sarcastic (e.g., 1 Sam. 21:15); names have ironic relevance to the plot (e.g., Gen. 4:8; Abel means a momentary vapor); events are occasionally outright laughable (can anyone read 1 Sam. 19:18-24 and not laugh?). Sometimes biblical stories contain unexpected reversals that change the trajectory of a plot in an amusing way. This is the case in the story of Paul’s conversion.

In the beginning of his story, the apostle Paul resembles king Saul. However, once he began to follow Jesus, Paul’s character switches from resembling Saul to David. This is an ironic turn of events, a comedic reversal that should both amuse and inform the reader. We will briefly examine both of these analogies and draw a conclusion about its significance for the christian life.

Paul=Saul

The apostle Paul is, of course, also named Saul (Acts 13:9). Not only do these two characters share the same name, but they are both from the tribe of Benjamin (1 Sam. 9:1, 2; 9:21; Rom. 11:1; Phil. 3:5). As the first king of Israel, Saul was the most famous Benjaminite. In a culture where individuals were often named after heroes of the past, it is likely that Paul was named after his famous kinsman from Israel’s monarchy.

Beyond sharing a common name, Paul and Saul both persecuted an anointed, Davidic figure. In Saul’s life, this drama is narrated in Samuel 18-31 where he sought to kill David in his house (1 Sam. 19:11), chased him out of the city (1 Sam. 19:18), and pursued him into the wilderness (1 Sam. 22:1; 23:15, 29; etc.). Similarly, the apostle Paul persecuted Jesus, the son of David. He did this by persecuting the church, which Jesus equates with persecuting himself (Acts 9:4-5). Like Saul, Paul sought out christians in their homes (Acts 8:3), driving them from their own cities (Acts 8:1).

Paul=David

After his conversion, in an ironic reversal, the persecutor becomes the persecuted. At this point, the second analogy comes into focus: that between Paul and David. Like David, Paul, after his conversion, was persecuted. He was stoned (Acts 14:19), beaten (16:22), imprisoned (Acts 16:23), and tried in court (Acts 23-26) for his trust in Jesus. Furthermore, like David who fled into the wilderness, Saul too spend time in the desert once his persecution began (Gal. 1:17).

Perhaps the most striking resemblance between Paul and David is a certain moment when each of them fled their persecutor. In these two stories, the persecutors planned to murder the heroes, sought them out by night, but did not find them because they were lowered by allies through an upper window and fled the city (1 Sam. 19:11-12; Acts 9:24-25).

Paul Conformed to David’s Image

Why do we find this sudden, ironic switch from a Paul=Saul analogy to a Paul=David? To put it another way, why is Paul humorously transformed from Saul to David? I believe this lies in the principle that those who follow Christ begin to be conformed into his likeness (Rom. 8:29). David, the persecuted king, prefigures the son of David, Jesus Christ. As soon as Paul began to follow Jesus, he began to experience the same kind of things that the prefigured Jesus (and Jesus himself) experienced.

This reversal in Paul’s fortune is a template for our own lives. Whether an outright persecutor or an ambivalent tolerator, at whatever stage we begin to follow Christ we may begin to experience the kind of things Jesus experienced. For some like Paul, this could look like imprisonment and physically intense persecution; for others, a gentler yet-still-disruptive force will work on our lives. Regardless of what form this takes, the comedic reversal on display in Paul’s life provides an illustration of God’s preordaining one individual “to be conformed into the image of [God’s] Son” (Rom. 8:29; ESV).

One of the joys of parenthood is taking your kids to the park. I’ve always enjoyed watching children interact with each other and those they don’t know. There’s so much of human nature that can be learned, not to mention cultural differences. Now that my kids are mostly grown, those park days seem a ways off in the rearview mirror, this is until recently: my wife and I were met by a young boy hearing us speak English, and he looked us straight in the eyes and mimicked English-speaking gibberish sounds. Then, he smiled and trotted off to play with his friends. I was impressed by his ability to imitate what he heard, but it also got me thinking about the difference between mimicking and imitating.

In 1 Corinthians 11:1, Paul wrote, “Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ.” He was speaking about his ethical life within the church, having liberty and restraining himself for the benefit of others. He also talked about his spiritual life, as he refused idols but fought the good fight to bring blessing and order to the church. Imitating Paul was not a call to mimic him, which is more of an unconscious act, but to imitate, meaning thoughtful observation put into action with intentionality.

The difference between mimicking and imitating can seem thin. Mimicking is often used negatively, like kids mimicking another’s annoying habits by grossly exaggerating them to get a laugh. Imitating, at least the way Paul uses it, can mean copying or emulating, but reflection and action are at the heart of these words.

When it comes to imitating, we must know what to emulate. Mimicking, however, is a little more natural. The Corinthians mimicked or reflected their culture by dividing into factions, eating meat sacrificed to idols, or allowing disorder in the worship service. Even if Paul needed to correct some in ministry leading the disorders, chances are it wasn’t premeditated. They probably never considered the problems in such depth before Paul wrote to them. This is the power of the Word of God; it can take us out of our culture to see our behavior from His perspective. This allows transformation if we couple this with belief put into action.

My apologetics professor introduced us to a Christian philosopher who speaks about what he called the “mimetic desire”: René Girard. Girard developed his ideas in the U.S. after leaving France in the late 1950s. He spoke of how people grow and learn from birth through imitating others. This is vital to the sociability of children, who grow up to be like their parents and those around them who influenced them. As adults, the desire to belong is to conform to a culture, movement, or family that moves along seamlessly. There’s then built within our hearts, a need to fit in. This is a way of describing the “mimetic desire,” but what seems so natural that it goes unnoticed also has some downsides, notably in crises.^[1]

Within the framework of fitting in, there inevitably comes a moment when natural flow doesn’t work. Soon, the crisis moment is amplified by conflict, and emotions intensify. That’s when, through the “mimetic desire,” we try to look for culprits or scapegoats. The one not following could be easily confused with the deeper problem. We find someone annoying enough, someone who blew it, or simply someone who is out of step with the rest … They become the focus of the problem, marginalized and eliminated. One of Girard’s examples is Marie Antoinette, a foreigner who was singled out to alleviate the malaise of the French Revolution. She wasn’t a criminal and wasn’t exceptionally evil or any more immoral than anyone else. Still, her foreign accent and Austrian royal customs came to embody all that was wrong with the nation in the eyes of the starving people.^[2]

This is the danger of the “mimetic desire.” We aren’t imitating but herding or being herded against people created in the image of God. Once we find the person, movement, or group that seems to be causing our problems, we can isolate them and make them pay for the whole. When it’s done, we can be lulled into breathing easily again because we believe we’ve purged the situation. But what if the person, in their diversity, was a gift to help us see outside our cultural bias?

Girard’s ideas aren’t to be confused with crime and punishment. As a Christian, he’d put that in an altogether different category. This concerns society and culture. If we don’t allow differing voices, we can create a monotone culture of people who look, think, act, and speak alike. This is mimetism, which can undermine the Spirit’s natural way of adding diversity to the Church.

Mimicking and scapegoating will never purge the problem, even if it may release tension in a crisis moment. The problem always comes back — maybe not in the same form. Perhaps a problem was solved, but lasting relief is not possible on this side of Heaven. The problem is still humanity — it is within us — we are sinners!

When we see this mimicking happening in a group, and especially one that’s morphing into a type of prejudice-fueled scapegoating, we should be aware. One of the first things that helps us see it in others is that we are deeply entrenched in our own group. It’s the Marie Antoinette reaction. This is the time to stop. If we operate only within the bounds of our said group, we will only reason within their sphere of logic. Then, we can only cry out the slogans of our tribe, which, though they make perfect sense to us, will only be met with the slogans from the opposing group. There is only one escape—the gospel. I’m challenged by Frank Thielman’s statement, “Our efforts to limit the outreach of the gospel and the fellowship of believers to people like us and people with whom we are comfortable may show we do not actually understand the gospel.”^[3] This is a terrible reality because it goes against our natural mimetic desire to want to fit in and be surrounded by familiar people.

This is where the beauty of the gospel can come to our rescue. We don’t need to look for a scapegoat; we have the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world^[4] to purge the source of crisis. Jesus became sin so that we become righteous for God.^[5] Thus, he is the victor because he defeated the problem. The gospel helps us overcome the difficulties of mimetic desire. Because Jesus was singled out as the outsider, though as Creator, He is the ultimate insider, He takes our scapegoating tendencies and transforms them through His being the sacrificial Lamb. No more scapegoats are needed because a Lamb paid the price! In this way, we can imitate Paul thoughtfully and actively, just as Paul imitated Christ, whose letters, through the power of God, still draw us out of our cultural bias to see the One who has made everything right.

Footnotes

^[1] Joe Carter wrote this helpful article in 2012, explaining the “mimetic desire” using Christopher Nolan’s “The Dark Knight” series: https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/article/why-batman-doesnt-know-jesus/
^[2] René Girard, Le Bouc Émmissaire. Éditeur Bernard Grasset. Paris, 33-34.
^[3] Frank Thielman, Galatians. ESV Expository Commentary. (Wheaton, Illinois: Crossway, 2018), 597.
^[4] John 1:29
^[5] 2 Corinthians 5:21

In any form of storytelling, authors frequently employ modes of comparison between characters. Sometimes characters complement one another, resembling each other’s traits, actions, or other distinguishing features (e.g., Frodo and Bilbo in The Lord of the Rings). Other times characters act as literary foils to one another, each representing opposite characteristics of the other (e.g., Harry and Draco in Harry Potter, or Edward and Jacob in Twilight).

Characters who have similar features can be considered analogous or in analogy with one another. Character analogy is one tool the biblical authors used to portray characters in Scripture in vivid, three-dimensional portraits. In this short study, we will consider how the author of 1 Samuel used character analogy to craft a dynamic, multifaceted presentation of a woman named Hannah.

The author opens 1 Samuel by introducing us to a man named Elkanah. After telling us where he was from and what family he belonged to, the author gives us information about Elkanah’s immediate family, information that launches us into a character analogy. First, we are told that Elkanah had two wives: “The name of the one was Hannah, and the name of the other, Peninnah. Peninnah had children, but Hannah had no children” (1 Sam. 1:2; ESV). Does this sound familiar? A Hebrew man with two wives, one of whom is infertile?

Scripture is full of infertile wife stories. In three of these instances, the infertile wife has a rival: Sarah and Hagar; Leah and Rachel; and Hannah and Peninnah. We will focus on the similarities between Hannah and the Sarah-Hagar stories, first noting how Hannah resembles Sarah, then observing her similarities to Hagar.

Hannah = Sarah

The obvious parallel between Hannah and Sarah is their barrenness at the beginning of their stories. In fact, no sooner is Sarah (then known as Sarai) introduced into the drama of Genesis before her infertility is revealed: “Now Sarai was barren; she had no child” (Gen. 11:30; ESV). Along with the promise of inherited land, hope in God’s promise of offspring is the central motif of the whole Abrahamic narrative (e.g., Gen. 12:2, 7; 13:15-16; 15:3, 18; 17:9). Sarah’s infertility is the chief obstacle to the fulfillment of this promise to Abraham.

In her frustration, Sarah sought to gain a son by using one of her female slaves as a surrogate without thinking through the potential ramifications. Sarah gave Hagar, a slave she acquired in Egypt, to Abraham as a wife. Though the text does not indicate that Abraham explicitly mistreated Hagar (he is notably passive in this story), it is apparent that Sarah is the favored wife.

Like Sarah, Elkanah favored Hannah above her rival. This is displayed when Elkanah would “give portions [from their annual sacrifice] to Peninnah his wife,” but “to Hannah he gave a double portion, because he loved her, though the LORD had closed her womb” (1 Sam. 1:4-5).

These two points of analogy between Hannah and Sarah raise a number of questions: How similar is Hannah to Sarah? Does she have a similar temperament? Will they have similar destinies? If Hannah has a child, will he too be a great patriarch like Sarah’s son, Isaac? The character analogy raises these questions — even expectations — but a second analogy threatens to complicate the first.

Hannah = Hagar

Hannah also resembles Hagar. First, both Hagar and Hannah received announcements from a divine messenger concerning their unborn children. For Hagar, this occurred when she ran away from Sarah. While in the wilderness, an angel gave her a prophetic announcement concerning the birth of her son (Gen. 16:10-12). In Hannah’s case, Eli, the High Priest, saw Hannah’s distress concerning her infertility. Though he did not hear her prayer for a child, he nevertheless gave her a blessing: “[T]he God of Israel grant your petition that you have made to him” (1 Sam. 1:16; ESV). Functioning in the office of the High Priest, Eli is a messenger of God in a role similar to Hagar’s angel.

Second, both Hannah and Hagar were oppressed by their rivals. After Hagar conceived a child, Sarah was filled with jealousy. This drove Sarah to “deal harshly with her,” to the point that Hagar fled from Sarah’s presence (Gen. 16:6; ESV). When the angel spoke to her, he described her experience as affliction (Heb: ʿŏniy; Gen. 16:11). Similarly, Peninnah “used to provoke her [Hannah] grievously to irritate her, because the LORD had closed her womb” (1 Sam. 1:6; ESV). When describing her experience to God, Hannah too described her experience as affliction (Heb: ʿŏniy; 1 Sam. 1:11). Like Hagar’s flight from Sarah, this drove Hannah to seek solitude during her family’s annual pilgrimages.

Third, both Hagar and Hannah depart from their families to weep in solitary places. For Hagar, this takes place after Sarah bore Isaac. Abraham sent her and her child away and, once their provisions were gone, Hagar “lifted up her voice and wept” (Heb: bākāh; Gen. 21:16; ESV). Likewise, after Hannah’s family ate their sacrificial meal, she departed from her family. Going off to be alone, “[s]he was deeply distressed and prayed to the LORD and wept (Heb: bākāh) bitterly” (1 Sam. 1:10; ESV).

Finally, it should be noted that the names of both Hannah and Hagar’s sons are similar. Following the command of the angel, Hannah named her child Ishmael, “because the LORD has listened (Heb: šāmaʿ) to [Hannah’s] affliction” (Gen. 16:11; ESV). The name Ishmael means “God will listen,” a comforting name for a woman afflicted by her own family. When Hannah bore her son, she named him Samuel. Though, on the one hand, the explanation given for his name links it with the Hebrew word “to ask” (Heb: šāʾal), his name visibly and audibly resembles the phrase, “God has listened (Heb: šāmaʿ),” creating a double entendre. Therefore, the names of Hagar and Hannah’s children are respectively, God-will-listen and God-has-listened.

So, Who is Hannah?

When noticing points of analogy between two characters, it can be tempting to simplistically conclude that “this character” must be like “that character.” If Hannah is to be compared with Sarah, we might mistakenly conclude that she is jealous and prone to oppress rival women. Additionally, we might assume that she too will gain a son who will become a patriarch of a great nation, in turn making her one of the great matriarchs.

The fact that Hannah is also analogous to Hagar gives her character additional depth. While barren and favored (like Sarah), she is oppressed, driven to tears, and separate from her family (like Hagar). She contains in herself a mixture of traits from both women. The multifaceted presentation of her character makes it difficult to predict her future and the destiny of her son.

If, on the one hand, she is more like Sarah, then her son Samuel might resemble Isaac: a recipient of the Abrahamic blessing, a patriarch of Israel, one holding a central place in the memory of God’s people. On the other hand, if she is more like Hagar, then Samuel could take on Ishmael-like characteristics: blessed by God, passed over in favor of another, ultimately drifting into obscurity.

Why Bother Noticing Character Analogy?

One might ask what benefit noticing such analogies brings to our Bible reading. How does this affect one’s devotional life? What does any of this have to do with loving Jesus and loving our neighbor? I will suggest just two benefits to appreciating character analogy.

First, noticing character analogy helps us discover additional facets to biblical characters and brings others into sharper focus. In the case of Hannah, while we might initially skim over her persecution at the hands of her rival, the analogy with Hagar brings this aspect of her experience to the forefront. Additionally, at the beginning of the story, we might not expect that Hannah’s child will be anything of national significance. However, as soon as one notices analogies with both Sarah and Hagar, we realize that her son’s destiny may be like that of Isaac or Ishmael.

Second, every time an analogy is noticed between two characters, there is an invitation to re-examine and re-explore the biblical story. After reading a biblical narrative so many times, one might think they know the story and characters inside-out. However, when one notices an unexplored character analogy, one may re-read an entire narrative and consider the relevant characters with this analogy in mind. The invitation to re-read stories from a fresh perspective is a marvelous opportunity for deeper Scripture meditation as we draw near to Jesus through his Word.

In the ancient text of Leviticus, within the details of ritual and sacrifice, lies a profound truth about peace. The Peace Offering, outlined in chapter 3, verses 3, 10, and 15, transcends mere tradition, unveiling the very heart of human consciousness. Here, the choice of animal for sacrifice reflects not only the offeror’s devotion but also their socio-economic standing — a tangible expression of their commitment to peace.

The peculiar detail of this offering begins with the burning of the liver and the kidney, both organs designed to detoxify the body. Next is the fatty lobe above the kidney: in Latin, ad meaning above, and renal meaning kidney, together known as the adrenal gland, which is the source of adrenaline, the hormone of fight or flight. To sacrifice the adrenal gland is to relinquish conscious control of adrenaline, thus surrendering the rush of fear and urgency that often governs our actions.

This act, rooted in ancient Hebraic practices, speaks volumes to modern struggles. In a world consumed by adrenaline addiction, where stress and anxiety reign supreme, the Peace Offering beckons us to recognize the Presence of the Prince of Peace. It invites us to embrace Isaiah’s promise (Isaiah 26:3) that God will keep us in perfect peace when our minds are steadfastly fixed on the Lord God.

In the midst of turmoil, Jesus, our constant source of perfect peace, extends an invitation to us continually — to lay down our burdens, to surrender our anxious thoughts, and to find rest for our weary souls (Matthew 11:28-30).

Here is a promise that true peace is not found in the pursuit of an adrenaline-fueled life, but in an assurance that in quietness and confidence in Him, we find true rest for our souls (Isaiah 30:15).

As we offer our anxieties, our fears, and our very selves upon the altar of surrender, we draw even closer to the true author of peace, just like in the Peace Offering.

And his spear was in his hand… (1 Sam. 19:9; 20:33; 22:6)

Oftentimes in media, whether in film, television, music, or literature, a motif is woven throughout a story. Motif is the repetition of a concept, action, object, or other distinctive marker which carries some symbolic meaning. Out of the countless examples of motif, I think of “the girl in the red coat” who is featured in the World War II film Schindler’s List (1993). Twice in this black-and-white film, color is introduced through the red coat of a young Jewish girl, drawing our attention to this peripheral figure. Through the use of color in the midst of a sea of black and white, the red-coated girl becomes a repeated motif, inviting the audience to mull over the significance of this girl within the larger movie.

In a similar way, literary motif is one way the Holy Spirit communicates through the inspired authors of Scripture. Saul’s spear (Heb: ḥănît) is his weapon of choice, particularly in his pursuit and attempted murder of David. There are a total of five scenes featuring the spear, culminating in David’s surprising victory over Saul. In this short study, we will observe the development of the spear motif. First, we will take note of four scenes where Saul attacks another with his spear; second, we will consider David’s surprising victory over Saul; third, we will reflect on how this motif presents us with a picture both of Jesus’ victory over the spiritual rulers and his treatment of human enemies.

Saul’s Attacks

The first scene which features Saul’s spear takes place in the royal house. After David had been anointed by Samuel, the Spirit of God departed from Saul and was replaced by a distressing spirit. When Saul became distressed, it was David’s job to sooth him by playing the harp. However, this was problematized by Saul’s growing jealousy over both David’s military success and general popularity (c.f., 1 Sam. 18:6-9).

Following this, we are given the ominous report that, “While David was daily playing the harp which was in his hand, the spear was in Saul’s hand” (1 Sam. 18:10). The report of these contrasting hands set up a comparison between the peaceful presence of David, attempting to sooth the king with his harp, and the murderous tendencies of Saul with his weapon of choice. No sooner is Saul’s spear introduced into the story before Saul “hurled the spear, for he thought, ‘I will strike David against the wall,’” in his first attempted murder (1 Sam. 18:11).

Escaping this initial attack, David carried on in Saul’s service. After a series of episodes including David’s marriage to Saul’s daughter, Michal, David found himself once again playing the harp for the distressed king with “his spear (ḥănît) in his hand” (1 Sam. 19:9). In this second scene, “Saul attempted to strike David against the wall with his spear, but David eluded Saul while the spear struck the wall. Then David escaped and slipped away in that night” (1 Sam. 19:10).

At this point in the story, Saul’s spear is the tool he uses to try and destroy his competition. Though his competition is an innocent man, Saul does not hesitate to pursue death in order to rid himself of what he perceives as a threat to his throne. His spear, then, can be perceived as a symbol of Saul’s tendency to take up violent means to accomplish his goals and defeat his enemies.

The third scene featuring Saul’s spear resembles the first two, but with a twist. After two attempted murders, David kept his distance from his father-in-law. Jonathan, Saul’s son and David’s friend, attempted to mediate peace between the two. However, while Jonathan questioned the justice of his father’s actions, Saul’s rage stirred: “Then Saul hurled the spear at [Jonathan] to strike him. Therefore Jonathan knew that his father was determined to kill David” (1 Sam. 20:33).

In a moment of rage, Saul’s violent tendencies extended from his hatred for David to his own son. We see that Saul’s violence is not isolated to David, but, in what can only be described as an uncontrollable fit, it threatens anyone who stands in his way.

The final scene where Saul is shown wielding his spear is unique in a couple ways. After David fled the royal house, he came to the tabernacle where Abimelech, the high priest, resided. He asked Abimelech for aid in his flight and, after their exchange, he was sent away with food and a sword (1 Sam. 21:1-9). Unfortunately for Abimelech, one of Saul’s servants, a man named Doeg, was at the Tabernacle. Doeg reported this event to Saul which led to the eventual genocide of Abimelech’s family.

The moment of this discovery opens with this description: “Saul heard that David was discovered, and his men were with him. Now Saul was sitting in Gibeah under a tamarisk tree in a high place, and his spear was in his hand, and all his servants were stationed around him” (1 Sam 22:6). The phrase “his spear was in his hand” is identical to the phrase preceding Saul’s second attempt at David’s life (c.f., 1 Sam. 19:8). At this point, with the motif of Saul’s spear firmly established, we should expect some violent outburst on the part of Saul.

The twist in this scene is twofold. First, Saul escalates his violence. When Jonathan sought to help David, Saul attacked Jonathan. However, when Abimelech helped David, he not only sought the life of Abimelech but his entire family (1 Sam. 22:16). Second, whereas in previous scenes Saul took matters into his own hands, now Saul draws more people into his orbit of violence. Initially he commanded his guard to annihilate the priestly family (1 Sam. 22:17); then, after their refusal, Doeg agrees to carry out this murderous order (1 Sam. 22:18).

The Disarming of Saul

We see in these four scenes the way that Saul relates to his enemies. Now, in a final scene, we see exactly how David achieves victory over his homicidal pursuer. 1 Samuel 26 recounts the final encounter between Saul and David, as well as the final occurrence of the spear motif in Samuel. In fact, the word “spear” (ḥănît) occurs no less than six times in this story (1 Sam. 26:7, 8, 11, 12, 16, 22) indicating a climactic completion for this narrative thread.

The scene opens with Saul and his men camped nearby David. In the dead of night, David and Abishai, one of his commanders, snuck into Saul’s camp while he was sleeping. There they found Saul asleep “with his spear (ḥănît) stuck in the ground near his head” (1 Sam. 26:7). Abishai petitioned David to let him take Saul’s spear and strike him, but David refused. Instead, “David took the spear (ḥănît) and jar of water which was by Saul’s head, and they went their way” (1 Sam. 26:12).

After both disarming Saul of his spear and fleeing a safe distance, David called out with a loud voice to wake up Saul’s camp. Seeing that David spared his life, Saul proclaimed that he had “sinned” and acted “foolishly.” Responding to this “David answered and said, ‘Behold! The spear (ḥănît) of the king! Let one of your servants pass over and take it. And may the LORD reward every man for his righteousness and his faithfulness, since the LORD gave you into my hand today, yet I was not willing to stretch out my hand against the LORD’s anointed’” (1 Sam. 26:22-23).

In this scene, we see both the righteousness and victory of David on display precisely through his refusal to take up the spear, the symbol of conquest through one’s own violence. David never again saw Saul, and Saul, who lived by the sword (and spear), died by the sword.

Jesus Disarms the “Rulers”

The spear motif woven through these narratives present us with a vivid picture both of Jesus’ treatment of enemies and his victory over the spiritual powers. Jesus’ ethic regarding the treatment of one’s enemies was revolutionary: “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you” (Luke 6:27, ESV; c.f., Matt. 5:44). Paul picked up on this when writing to the Romans saying, “Never avenge yourself, but leave it to the wrath of God, for it is written, ‘Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord’” (Rom. 12:19, ESV; c.f., Deut. 32:35). By refusing to take up the power of the spear, David foreshadowed the ethic of Jesus. He refused to avenge himself, but trusted God to do justice with his enemy.

Additionally, like David, Jesus eluded death many times (e.g., John 7:1; 8:59; 10:31). However, recognizing that his enemy was spiritual rather than flesh and blood, Jesus gave himself up to the violence of his pursuers. By doing this, Jesus “disarmed the [spiritual] rulers and authorities and put them to open shame, by triumphing over them in him” (Col. 2:15; ESV). And what weapon were they disarmed of? The power of death!

Rather than using violence, Jesus became the object of violence by letting death do its worst to him on the cross. The powers used up their arsenal. Then, through his resurrection, Jesus rendered death powerless, disarming the rulers of their most lethal weapon. And now, because the powers have been disarmed, we can take up the song of the redeemed saying, “O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” (1 Cor. 15:55, ESV; c.f., Hos. 13:14).

Like Christ, we do not need to take hold of victory through violence. We have no need of the spear. Our victory is secure in the one who disarmed death. Now we too, as followers of Jesus, can follow his example of enemy-love: never avenging ourselves, refusing to take up the spear, and trusting God to do justice when we are wronged.

Editor’s Note: To hear more from Thomas on this subject, click here for “Messiah in the Passover,” from his Theology and Apologetics Podcast.
https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/theology-and-apologetics-podcast/id1275721027?i=1000557698279

חג פסח שמח
Hag Pesach Sameach
Happy Passover

As the Passover season approaches, Jewish households worldwide are preparing to celebrate with the traditional Passover Seder. This ancient ritual serves as a poignant reminder of God’s redemption of the Israelites from slavery in Egypt. But beyond its historical significance, Passover holds deep theological meaning for believers in Messiah.

The Passover Seder, a ceremonial meal, is centered around retelling the Exodus story in an interactive manner. It’s not just a recounting of events but an immersive experience meant to engage participants in the narrative of liberation. For believers, Passover transcends mere tradition; it serves as a vivid illustration of the gospel message and the ultimate redemption offered through Yeshua (Jesus).

Kindling the Light

A Seder will typically begin with the woman of the house kindling the Passover candles and bringing light to the Passover table. For believers in Messiah this is significant, for it was a woman, Mary, who began the redemptive career of the Messiah by giving birth to the light of the world.

“The people walking in darkness have seen a great light;
on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned’” Isaiah 9:2.

“Yeshua spoke to them again, saying, “I am the light of the world. The one who follows Me will no longer walk in darkness, but will have the light of life” John 8:12.

The First Passover

The Passover narrative, outlined in Exodus 12, recounts the ten plagues of Egypt, and culminates in the deliverance of the Israelites through the Red Sea. Central to this story is the requirement to sacrifice an unblemished lamb and apply its blood to the doorposts of their houses (Exodus 12:5-7). The blood is said to serve as a sign (Exodus 12:13) which will cause the Lord to pass over that house sparing the Israelites from the final plague of death. This act of redemption serves as a foreshadowing of the greater redemption to come through Yeshua, the Lamb of God (John 1:29).

The parallels between Old Testament types and New Testament fulfillment are striking, underscoring the continuity of God’s redemptive plan throughout history that’s revealed to us in the Word of God. The Apostle Paul, in his letter to the Colossians, emphasizes the Christological significance of these rituals, asserting that they not only serve to commemorate a historical event, but they also foreshadow the substance which is to be found in Christ:

“Therefore no one is to act as your judge in regard to food or drink or in respect to a festival or a new moon or a Sabbath day—things which are a mere shadow of what is to come; but the substance belongs to Christ” Colossians 2:16-17.

These Passover themes of slavery and redemption are continued throughout the Bible. Therefore, being in Egypt is described as being in the house of slavery (Exodus 20:2), and in the New Testament an unbeliever is described as being in slavery to sin (Romans 6:20). When God described the events of the Exodus from Egypt, He says that they’ve been redeemed from Egypt (Deuteronomy 7:8). Similarly, when salvation is spoken of in the New Testament, it’s done with the same Passover language of redemption. The Apostle Peter writes:

“… knowing that you were not redeemed with perishable things like silver or gold from your futile way of life inherited from your forefathers, but with precious blood, as of a lamb unblemished and spotless, the blood of Christ” 1 Peter 1:18-19.

It’s hard to miss the Passover parallels laid out in these verses. Just as the Israelites were redeemed from slavery in Egypt through the blood of the Passover lamb, believers too are redeemed from sin and bondage through the precious blood of Jesus. Paul makes it even more explicit when he says, “Christ our Passover is sacrificed” (1 Corinthians 5:7).

The Four Cups

At the heart of the Passover Seder are the four cups, each representing a promise of deliverance drawn from Exodus 6:6-7.

^{6 “}Say, therefore, to the sons of Israel, ‘I am the Lord, and I will bring you out from under the burdens of the Egyptians, and I will deliver you from their bondage. I will also redeem you with an outstretched arm and with great judgments. ⁷ Then I will take you for My people, and I will be your God; and you shall know that I am the Lord your God, who brought you out from under the burdens of the Egyptians” Exodus 6:6-7.

The four cups with the corresponding promises are as follows:

• The Cup of sanctification – I will bring you out
• The Cup of Deliverance – I will deliver you
• The Cup of Redemption – I will redeem you
• The Cup of Restoration – I will take you

The third cup, known as the Cup of Redemption, holds particular importance as it symbolizes the blood of the Passover lamb that secured Israel’s redemption. This cup finds its ultimate fulfilment in Yeshua, who instituted the new covenant through His blood with this third cup which is taken after the meal at Passover.

“And in the same way He took the cup after they had eaten, saying, ‘This cup which is poured out for you is the new covenant in My blood’” Luke 22:20.

During the last supper, Jesus takes the third cup declaring it to be symbolic of the new covenant in His blood, thus establishing a powerful connection between the Passover and the Christian ceremony of communion. As believers partake in communion, they not only remember Yeshua’s sacrifice but also anticipate His return, proclaiming His death until He comes again (1 Corinthians 11:26).

The Passover serves as a profound reminder of God’s faithfulness throughout history and His enduring promise of redemption. It points believers to the ultimate Passover Lamb, Yeshua, whose sacrifice brings freedom from sin and eternal life.

As we contemplate the significance of Passover and communion, we anticipate that day in the age to come when we join with the redeemed of all ages in proclaiming:

“Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive power and riches and wisdom and might and honor and glory and blessing” Revelation 5:12.

לשנה הבאה בירושלים
l’shana haba’ah b’yerushalayim
IN A COMING YEAR IN JERUSALEM

Thomas Fretwell, Founder
https://www.ezrafoundation.org/

“I am the resurrection and the life.”
—John 11:25

Jesus’ claim to be the resurrection and the life is so radical that it does not allow the hearer to hold a neutral position concerning Him. As C. S. Lewis said, there are only three possibilities with Jesus: He is a liar, a lunatic, or the Lord. Any serious consideration of His words will almost certainly force one to admit, like it or not, that He is Lord.

Jesus made this statement in response to the death of His friend, Lazarus. Death is that dreaded reality that every human being hopes to avoid but can never escape. Death is humanity’s perennial enemy and greatest fear. In fact, the Bible says that people live all their lives in bondage to the fear of death (Hebrews 2:15).

Actually, death was never a part of God’s original plan. It is something that came in because of sin. God had said to Adam, in the day that you eat of the fruit of the tree in the midst of the garden, you shall surely die (Genesis 2:17). Our ongoing inability to accept death as just another part of the human experience is to me a strong indicator that the biblical explanation of it is the right one—death is abnormal.

Think about it: no matter how young or old the person, no matter how sick or disabled, no matter how far removed from a person we might have been, there is a pang in our hearts when we hear of their passing. Millions were stricken with grief over the untimely death of pop star and cultural icon Michael Jackson, and, more recently, superstar athlete Kobe Bryant. Yet how many actually knew them personally? Why do people react so passionately to death? Because death is not right. It never was right. It never will be right. Nevertheless, it is.

The current death rate is staggering. Two people die every second, 120 every minute, more than 7,000 every hour, about 175,000 every day, 65,000,000 every year. “Death comes to young and old, rich and poor, good and bad, educated and ignorant, king and commoner. … The dynamic young businessman, the glamorous actress, the great athlete, the brilliant scientist, the television personality, the powerful politician—none can resist the moment when death will lay its hand upon them and bring all their fame and achievements to nothing. … Death is no respecter of time or place; it has neither season nor region. It can strike at any moment of the day or night, on land, on the sea or in the air. It comes to the hospital bed, the busy road, the comfortable armchair, the sports field and the office; there is not a single spot on the face of the planet where it is not able to strike.”^[1]

The philosopher Epicurus said, “It is possible to provide security against other ills, but as far as death is concerned, we live in a city without walls.”

Are there any solutions? Is man destined to go on endlessly being defeated by death? Jesus answered those questions when He stood face to face with death and said, “I am the resurrection and the life.”

Just a few days later, Jesus would meet death head on Himself in fulfillment of the prophecy: “I will ransom them from the power of the grave; I will redeem them from death. O Death, I will be your plagues! O Grave, I will be your destruction!” (Hosea 13:14).

His destruction of death would come through His resurrection. Paul the apostle would later write of Christ as the one who “abolished death and brought life and immortality to light through the gospel” (2 Timothy 1:10).

The word abolish means to put an end to. Some synonyms for abolish are: eradicate, rescind, repeal, obliterate, annihilate. Jesus Christ obliterated death! You might say, “Wait a minute. As you just stated, three people die every second. What do you mean Jesus Christ obliterated death?” There are two definitions of death—ours and God’s. Our definition of death is essentially the separation of the soul and spirit from the body. God’s definition of death is the separation of the soul and spirit from Him.

The Bible teaches that physical death is the result of spiritual death. Jesus obliterated spiritual death by bringing our soul and spirit back into conscious fellowship with God. But He also obliterated physical death by rising from the dead and becoming the first of a great multitude who will rise also. In the original order of things, spiritual death (which came through the sin of Adam) led ultimately to physical death. In the new order of things, spiritual life (which comes through faith in Jesus Christ) will lead ultimately to physical life without the possibility of death.

Again, the apostle Paul put it this way in 1 Corinthians 15, that great chapter on the resurrection:

“Behold, I tell you a mystery: We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed—in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed. For this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality. So when this corruptible has put on incorruption, and this mortal has put on immortality, then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written: ‘Death is swallowed up in victory. O Death, where is your sting? O Hades, where is your victory?’”
—1 Corinthians 15:51–55

Taken from my book:
No Like or Equal
The Uniqueness of Jesus
Copyright © 2023 by Brian Brodersen

Reference

^[1] John Blanchard, Whatever Happened to Hell? (Welwyn Garden City, UK: Evangelical Press, 1993), 46.

The haunting melody of an old hymn echoes in my soul as Resurrection Sunday draws near, its words resonating deeply: “When I survey the wondrous cross on which the Prince of glory died, my richest gain I count but loss, and pour contempt on all my pride” (When I survey the wondrous cross, Isaac Watts, 1707).

Have you surveyed the wondrous cross? You will discover that in the vast tapestry of human existence, there exists a narrative unlike any other—a narrative that holds within its embrace the power to transform, unlock the depths of our being, and unveil the very heart of God Himself. This narrative is none other than the story of the cross of Christ.

From the ancient prophecies whispered through the ages to the revelations unveiled in the New Testament, the mystery of the cross weaves its intricate threads through the fabric of Scripture, illuminating profound truths about God’s redemptive plan for humanity. It is a mystery hidden in the mists of time, yet now revealed for all who have eyes to see and ears to hear.

The Unveiling of Hidden Treasures

In his letter to the Colossians, the apostle Paul unveils this ancient mystery, declaring to the Lord’s beloved, “the mystery that has been kept hidden for ages and generations but is now disclosed to the Lord’s people. To them, God has chosen to make known among the Gentiles the glorious riches of this mystery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory” (Colossians 1:26-27, NIV).

Paul uses the term “mystery” not to confound or mystify but rather to reveal a truth that was once veiled but now made manifest. John Stott, a luminary of the evangelical movement, sheds light on this, stating, “In English, a ‘mystery’ is something dark, obscure, secret, puzzling. What is ‘mysterious’ is inexplicable, even incomprehensible. However, the Greek word mysterion differs. Although still conveying a sense of ‘secrecy,’ it is no longer tightly guarded but rather open… Put simply, mysterion represents a truth previously concealed from human knowledge or understanding but now revealed by God’s disclosure.”

Here, Paul reveals that the mystery hidden for generations past is none other than Christ dwelling within believers, offering the hope of glory.

The Inclusion of All

In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul delves deeper into the mystery of Christ, emphasizing its universal scope. He writes, “This mystery is that through the gospel the Gentiles are heirs together with Israel, members together of one body, and sharers together in the promise in Christ Jesus” (Ephesians 3:6, NIV). Paul proclaims that the mystery of Christ encompasses the Gentiles as co-heirs with Israel, united as one body through faith in Jesus Christ. This revelation underscores the inclusivity of God’s redemptive plan, embracing all into the fold of salvation.

The Suffering Servant

Long before Paul penned his letters, the prophet Isaiah spoke of a suffering servant who would bear the sins of humanity and bring about peace and healing through his sacrificial death. Isaiah writes, “But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed. We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to our own way; and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all” (Isaiah 53:5-6, NIV).

In Isaiah’s prophetic vision, we witness an astonishing glimpse across centuries, foreseeing the suffering of the Messiah who would be “beaten with many stripes” (Mark 15:15). Isaiah anticipated that it would be through these very wounds that our healing would be wrought. Drawing upon this profound truth, Peter draws attention to the voluntary nature of Jesus’ sacrifice. In embracing the burden of our sins upon the cross, Jesus opened the gateway for believers to break free from the enslavement of sin and to embrace a life of righteousness (1 Peter 2:24). Through Christ’s sacrificial act, we are not merely offered redemption but are empowered to live transformed lives, healed by the very wounds that once bore the weight of our transgressions.

Reflections on the Mystery of the Cross

As we reflect on the mystery of the cross, let us not merely marvel at its complexity or beauty but let us also embrace its transformative power in our lives. For in the cross of Christ, we find the convergence of divine love and human frailty, redemption and reconciliation, suffering and triumph.

May the mystery of the cross continue to captivate our hearts, inspire our faith, and lead us ever deeper into the immeasurable riches of God’s grace. And may we, like Paul and Isaiah before us, boldly proclaim this mystery to the world, that all may come to know the hope, healing, and salvation found only in the cross of Christ.

Editor’s Note: Dr. Hernandez’s article was previously published on March 13, 2017. This year (2024), Purim takes place from sundown March 23 to nightfall on March 24.

Imagine a holiday in which kids dress up, wander around the neighborhood in costumes, make joyous noise, and receive sweets from all over the place. No friends—I am not speaking of Halloween. Rather, I am referring to an actual biblical holiday that involves costumes, candy, and the reading of the scriptures.

“Purim” is the name of the biblical holiday celebrated worldwide by Jewish communities on the fourteenth or fifteenth of the Hebrew month of Adar—depending on whether one lives in a walled city (March 12-13 this year). Purim has been celebrated by masquerading for about the last 500 years—starting as a European tradition—despite the fact that masquerading is generally not looked upon favorably by Jewish people (cf. Deuteronomy 22:5). The reason for these festivities is simple:

Purim is a joyous day on which the Jewish people celebrate the rescue of their people group, as recorded in the biblical book of Esther.

One of the ways in which the preservation of the Jewish people is celebrated is by reading Megilat Esther (the Scroll of Esther). By reading the entirety of this biblical narrative in the synagogue or other public arena, the Jewish people are reminded of the deliverance of their ancestors from the hands of their enemies. Specifically, they are remembering their rescue from the plot of the tyrannical Persian despot, Haman. Indeed, every time Haman’s name is mentioned during the public reading of Esther, those in attendance boo and rattle noisemakers to demonstrate their displeasure with his memory (cf. Exodus 17:14). Accompanying the reading of the entire book of Esther, Jewish people celebrate with all types of festive activities, eating Oznai Haman (Yiddish: Hamentaschen), and singing typical Purim folk songs like this one:

שושנת יעקב
צהלה ושמחה
בראותם יחד
תכלת מרדכי

The people of Israel (Shoshanat Ya’akov)
Rejoiced and became overjoyed
When together they saw
Mordecai wearing royal blue

תשועתם
הייתה לנצח
ותקוותם
בכל דור ודור
ברוך מרדכי היהודי

Their salvation was from eternity
And their hope is from generation to generation
Blessed is Mordecai the Jew! Blessed is Mordecai the Jew!

In order to better understand the reason for the holiday Purim—even the word “Purim”—it is necessary to know a little bit of the history and setting of the book of Esther. The historical setting of the book of Esther goes back to about the late sixth century BC. This is when many Jewish people from the Jerusalem area were taken into exile by the Babylonians. The Babylonians were then conquered by the Persians, which brings us to the time period in which the book of Esther takes place.

The Story

The book of Esther commences by telling the story of King Ahasuerus of Persia—ruler of 127 provinces from the continent of Africa through east Asia. In the third year of his reign, this king has a grand feast in which the kingdom’s aristocrats are at the king’s palace in Susa—the capital of the Persian empire.

During this festival, King Ahasuerus calls his wife, Queen Vashti, to appear before him and his nobles in her royal crown. Vashti, for unstated reasons, refuses to come before the king, which absolutely enrages him (Esther 1:11-12). And so, based on the council of his friends, the king divorces Queen Vashti.

Upon divorcing Queen Vashti, the king misses her (Esther 1:21) and desires to marry again. The king’s servants then travel around the city gathering the most attractive maidens, so that the king might chose his next wife. This is when protagonists Mordecai and Esther appear. Mordecai is Esther’s older cousin and had raised her because she was an orphan. Esther, being remarkably beautiful, is taken into the king’s custody with other young women of the city (Esther 2:7-8).

In a noteworthy turn in the story—when Esther is taken into the custody of the king, she is explicitly commanded by her cousin Mordecai not to reveal her identity as a Jew (Esther 2:10, 20). This is an interesting point of foreshadowing for the reader. King Ahasuerus falls in love with and marries Esther, not knowing her full identity as a Jewish woman. The story could end here, except for the one question that lingers: Why would Mordecai tell Esther not to mention that she is a Jew?

The Situation

At this point in the story another character, Haman the Agagite, advances to a position somewhat akin to a prime minister role in the Persian kingdom. Upon this promotion, the king commands that all should bow down and pay homage to Haman. For reasons unexplained in the text, Mordecai not only refuses to bow down, but also reveals that he is a Jew (Esther 3:4)—doing the very thing that he commanded Esther not to do.

Those somewhat familiar with the 10 Commandments know that the second one explicitly states that you shall not make or bow down to idols. Mordecai may have admitted that he was a Jew and refused to bow down before the Persian leader because treating someone like God was where he had to draw the line. Perhaps there was a crisis of conscience (cf. Exodus 20:2–5a).

Nevertheless, Haman hates the fact that not all people will bow down to him and hates Mordecai—personally. Because of this, he develops a hatred for Mordecai’s people, whom Mordecai had implicated through admitting that he was a Jew. For Haman, it was not enough that everyone else in the kingdom bowed down to him, and it was not enough to kill only Mordecai. Haman determines to kill all of the Jewish people because of Mordecai’s rebellion (Esther 3:6). And so, Haman casts lots in order to determine the dreadful day in which all of the Jewish people would be put to death (Esther 3:7).

Many Bible readers are surprised to find that through all of these happenings, God is not mentioned. He is conspicuously absent. His name is not stated even once. At the time when the Jewish people needed God most, He is apparently nowhere to be found.

The Silence

How many times in our lives have we felt in need, desperate, physically/emotionally/spiritually destitute—and God is absolutely nowhere to be found? God seems absent. God is silent.

HERE IS A PRINCIPLE THAT WE LEARN THROUGH THE REST OF THE BOOK OF ESTHER: SOMETIMES, WHEN CIRCUMSTANCES LOOK DIRE, WHEN WE ARE GOING THROUGH DIFFICULT SITUATIONS AND GOD SEEMS TO BE ABSENT—GOD IS ACTUALLY RIGHT THERE, WORKING EVERYTHING TOGETHER FOR HIS GLORY.

Sometimes, when we have absolutely no assurance that God is concerned about a given situation, He is right there, completely involved in the situation, but not revealing the details of His work.

Here is the amazing thing that we must appreciate about the Esther narrative: God gives us, as readers, insight into a past occasion in which He is intricately involved in human affairs to carry out His purposes. It is this divine providence, that we start to see as God—without being named or officially credited with the actions—shaping the circumstances of the characters in order to accomplish His purposes.

For example, the following are specific circumstances in our story that are clearly divinely guided. In our story, it just so happened that:

Esther, out of all of the women, found favor in the eyes of the king.
Esther was a Jew.
Esther gained direct access to the king because of her position as Queen.
Esther and Mordecai were related.
Mordecai gained access to the Persian throne through Esther.

This last fact is key, because upon hearing the plans to slaughter the Jewish people, Mordecai dressed in clothes representing mourning and went to the entrance of the king’s gate. This permitted him to have access to his cousin, Queen Esther, who he convinces to help her own people—the Jews. Mordecai’s message to Esther serves as his plea for personal help and for the lives of all of his people:

“Do not think to yourself that in the king’s palace you will escape any more than all the other Jews. For if you keep silent at this time, relief and deliverance will rise for the Jews from another place, but you and your father’s house will perish. And who knows whether you have not come to the kingdom for such a time as this?” (Esther 4:13–14).

In his message, Mordecai urges Esther not to forget that she is a Jew. She too will feel the effects of Haman’s wicked plot to kill her people. But, Mordecai believes that Esther has been placed in a position of power and influence for the very purpose of helping her people through this time. Esther, in turn, communicates with the king, inviting him and Haman to a series of banquets. During the second of these banquets, Esther reveals to her husband that she is a Jew and that Haman’s wicked plot to kill the Jews would include her. This is dreadful revelation, not only to the king, but also to Haman, who pleads for his life—but to no avail. Haman is taken away and hung (Esther 7:7-10).

Nevertheless, the redemption of the Jewish people is still not complete. Using his ring, the king of Persia had sealed the edict to kill the Jews and therefore, the decree could not be overturned (Esther 8:8). This meant that another decree needed to be put into place to counteract the first (Esther 8:10-14). This new decree permitted the Jews to defend themselves against anyone who was still intent on causing them harm (in accordance with the king’s initial command). It also permitted the Jewish people to take force against their enemies over two days, which resulted in the killing upwards of 75,500 people across the Persian Empire (Esther 9:6, 12, 16).

By this, the annihilation of the Jewish people was avoided and their preservation in the Persian Empire was accomplished. Here is the irony—this salvation began on the very same day that Haman had planned for their destruction by the casting of lots (Purim). For the Jewish people, this was a cause for great celebration. And that is why the holiday of Purim was instituted.

Again, through all of this, God is not mentioned. God is apparently not present. God’s title is not stated even once. Salvation from their enemies comes for the Jewish people, and yet the pages of this book are silent as to who gets the credit. At the time when the Jewish people needed God the most, why is his name not even mentioned? Let us deal with this question for a second. The reality of our story is that, despite what some traditions might suggest concerning how honorable Esther and Mordecai are, some simple observations about them might help us to understand why God may not have been mentioned.

There seems to be no concern for the Jewish law by either of these two main characters.
Esther conceals her Jewish identity (lies by omission) when taken into the king’s court at the command of Mordecai. The implication of this is that Esther had to have violated the Torah (purity, Sabbath, food laws).
It is not until there is severe danger, and perhaps a threat from her uncle, that Esther reveals her true identity.
Esther marries a gentile king. Intermarriage with non-Jewish people is not explicitly forbidden, but we do not have any indication that the king has any intention of following the one true God of Israel.

Taking these observations into consideration, it does not seem like Esther or Mordecai are particularly concerned about following the Law that God gave the Jewish people. It does not seem like Esther or Mordecai are especially interested in inviting God into their narrative.

Despite the fact that God is not overtly present in the lives of these people, and does not plainly show up in the book, He still demonstrates His ability to control all circumstances and situations for His own glory. Why did God save the Jewish people while—quite frankly—not being invited into the story? A biblical principle that we must remember is the following: God does not save people because they are extraordinary in and of themselves. God saves people because He is a magnificent God demonstrating extraordinary love for humans, who by nature do not invite Him into their story (Romans 5:8).

This is what happened at the first Purim festival. God saved the Jewish people from their enemies—not because they were extraordinary in and of themselves. God saved them because He is an extraordinary, faithful God of integrity.

God’s Promise

You see, all the way back in the first book of the Bible, God promised a man named Abraham that all the nations of the earth would be blessed through him (Genesis 22:18). This indeed happened by God choosing Abraham’s son, Isaac, and Isaac’s son, Jacob—again, not because of anything they did, but for the purposes of God (Romans 9:6-13). As we continue to read through the Old Testament, we see that Jacob—who was renamed Israel—had 12 sons. Out of these 12 sons of Israel, his son, Judah—the name from which we get the title of the “Jewish” people—was chosen to bear the royal lineage (Genesis 49:8-10). King David came from the people of Judah, and Jesus the Messiah was a descendant of King David (Matthew 1:3-6, 16). Jesus came from the Jews, to the Jews (John 1:11-14). God was determined to carry out His promise of bringing blessing to all nations through the Jewish people by way of the person and the work of Jesus the Messiah.

One writer states it like this:

“Esther is part of a much larger story that runs all the way from Abraham to Christ and, through him, to the church. If Haman had succeeded, the Jewish people as a whole would have been destroyed, and the story of God’s saving work in and through Abraham’s descendants would have come to an end. There would have been no fulfillment in Christ, and therefore, no Gospel and no Christian church. Nothing less than that was at stake” (Barry G. Webb, ESV Study Bible, 961).

Our God is a God of integrity. He is a God who keeps His word. God’s integrity is not contingent upon human beings. Our God does not—cannot—let His word fail (Romans 9:6), and He is willing to work behind the scenes of humanity’s vain activity and inattentiveness to His work in order to carry out that which He has promised.

Purim and Christians

The book of Esther is part of our own heritage as Christians—not just because it is a small book tucked away in a part of our Bibles where books are difficult to find. Rather, it is because it is another part of the greater story of redemption, showing God’s love for humanity by bringing someone from the line of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Judah and David to save humankind from their problem of sin.

The fact that God is not mentioned at all in Esther seems to point out that it is during those times of silence—the times in which we do not overtly see God’s hand at work—that God is most active. Sometimes, God is simply in the act of preserving and saving our lives so that He might accomplish His purposes in and through us.

The preserving power of God is not limited to one people group that He used for His purposes. For Christians, Purim serves as an occasion in which we are reminded of God’s providence and sovereignty over all human lives and over our lives specifically. We are all the beneficiaries of God’s providence. As God guides all circumstances for His glory, we as humans are blessed to get a glimpse of what God does through people—including ourselves.

Amongst the many well-wishes when our first son was born in 2015 was a consistent message that slowly but surely,

“You will now come to see and appreciate a whole new side to our Father in heaven.”

At the time, the little cooing and gurgling bundle of joy did nothing but help me to understand how to love someone else in ways that I never thought possible (Psalm 103.13, for example), but, over time, I am becoming more and more awestruck at the patience and perseverance of God’s love. Let me explain…

“When he looks you in the eye and lies to you, it will break your heart.”

This next nugget of parenting wisdom seemed like something that somebody with grumpy, grouchy, and monosyllabic teenage kids would say. I did not understand why it was being said to me: the dad of the world’s most handsome, adorable, and obedient toddler. This boy went everywhere with me. He has been a daddy’s boy since day one. But, alas, the lies came. It upset me like nothing much has ever done and fulfilled the forewarning of the words above. In that moment, I just could not fathom how someone I loved unconditionally could lie to me. This person who had professed their little-legged but huge-hearted love for me again and again had now made a decision to obscure the truth to avoid trouble.

Is this how God sees me?

Am I like this?

Am I unconditionally loved yet willing to lie through my teeth when I think it would turn away trouble?

Fast forward to today and we now have two boys. Super-sleuth detective I am not, but I can tell when my sons are trying to deceive me. It seems to come so easy to them in the moment, too, which makes it all the harder to take. If I can always see it in them, how much more is the creator of the universe able to see it in me? How easy must it be for the omniscient, omnipresent, and omnipotent God to know that we are lying or being deceitful.

What kind of love keeps someone right there in the face of rebellion?

Surely this kind of behaviour would be enough to turn most loves away?

Being lied to for someone else’s self preservation or gain is pretty hard to take. Proverbs 6 makes very clear that God is not a big fan of lying either (vv.16-19). This is tremendously bad news for us who find it so easy to lie and deceive (cf.Jeremiah 17:9-10). We find ourselves, therefore, naturally and inherently doing things that contradict who God is. Simply, we sin (cf. Psalm 12, Romans 3.23).

What kind of love keeps someone right there in the face of outright rebellion?

“…a Never-Stopping, Never Giving Up, Unbreaking, Always and Forever Love.”
(The Jesus Storybook Bible)

In his letter to the Romans, Paul lists some of the things that God overcomes to be right there with us despite our failings:

“…I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor heavenly rulers, nor things that are present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
(8.38-39)

Paul could quite as easily, I believe, have written that

“…I am convinced that neither
…lies, nor deceit, nor trying to cover it up, nor continuing to lie when the game is up…
will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

God is love, as John writes (cf. 1 John 4.8) and so, simply, He is always going to be there for those that turn to Him in repentance and with faith.

“The Lord’s loyal kindness never ceases; his compassions never end. They are fresh every morning your faithfulness is abundant!”
(Lamentations 3.22-23)

“It will so happen that everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be delivered.”
(Joel 2.32)

“…while [the returning, formerly rebellious, prodigal son] was still a long way from home his father saw him, and his heart went out to him; he ran and hugged his son and kissed him. Then his son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’ But the father said to his slaves, ‘Hurry! Bring the best robe, and put it on him! Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet! Bring the fattened calf and kill it! Let us eat and celebrate, because this son of mine was dead, and is alive again—he was lost and is found!’ So they began to celebrate.“
(Luke 15.20-24)

There is now nothing we can do that will drive Him away (Romans 8.1, cf. Romans 7.21-25). The penitent heart that wants to be loved will always, always be loved.

Both my sons love me, and I love them. I love them unconditionally. I love them despite their failures and would do anything to redeem them from the consequences of their failures, if they want my help. I love them even though I know they will disappoint me again, and again, and again (and I them). I love them despite knowing that they will, I am sure, at some point in their life turn away from me in their hearts and believe they are better off alone and know better (althoughhopefully only for an exceedingly brief moment). As the Jesus Storybook Bible phrases it:

“And though they would forget him, and run from Him, deep in their hearts God’s children would miss Him always, and long for Him — lost children yearning for their home.”

Why do I love them like this, doing my earthly best to show them patience and perseverance? I love them because they are my children, I love them because they are made in my image, and I love them because of the example of our heavenly Father’s love for me (1 John 4.19).

As I’ve been teaching through Revelation this year at church, a thought has echoed in my heart: eternity is closer than we might think. By closer, I don’t mean sooner, as often we take it in our Calvary circles. I believe the Lord’s coming is imminent. I believe we need to live in expectancy, but that’s not the closeness I’ve been meditating on. I’ve been thinking more about nearness, less about time, and more about God’s presence. It’s similar to what Jesus said in Luke 17:20-21, “Being asked by the Pharisees when the kingdom of God would come, he answered them, “The kingdom of God is not coming in ways that can be observed, nor will they say, ‘Look, here it is!’ or ‘There!’ for behold, the kingdom of God is in the midst of you.”

Eternity, or the heavenly realm, isn’t so far away in distance but is close. The Kingdom is in the midst of us. I see this in Revelation, but I also see it in how Abraham communicated with God. Let me explain.

To begin, in Revelation 1:10, John worships the Lord when Jesus speaks to him.

He didn’t have any distractions like we might today. He was banished, and there was little hope for meaningful human interaction. The vision he saw of Jesus is frightening, with the eyes of flaming fire and sword coming out of his mouth. It wasn’t quite the Jesus meek and mild we remember from the Gospels! But the words we have recorded lend more in the direction that when John heard the voice, he looked over his shoulder rather than up. Jesus was right there, and he didn’t even know it, at least not until he heard the voice. The revealed presence of the Lord gives us the sense that John was never alone in worship in the first place. It reminds me of those times in worship when we felt so close to Him, as if He were in the chair next to us.

N.T. Wright explains it like this: “‘Revelation’ – the idea, and this book – are based on the ancient Jewish belief that God’s sphere of being and operation (‘heaven’) and our sphere (‘earth’) are not after all separated by a great gulf. They meet and merge and meld into one another in all kinds of ways.”^[1] As John prayed, he experienced the unfolding of the earthly sphere into the heavenly one, showing us eternity is close. It reminds me of praying with our elders about something that troubled us. We received an answer that night in a phone call, where the caller, who wasn’t at the meeting, used almost the same words we used in our prayers. It was as if he overheard our prayers; more precisely, God was closer than we realized as we prayed.

Then there’s the story of Abraham, in Genesis 18, shielding himself from the heat of the day in his tent.

The narrative begins in a way that sounds as normal as life could be in that part of the world without air conditioning, all except the fact that the Lord appeared to him in verse 1. He looked up and saw three men standing before him. Where did they come from? The text tells us that the Lord appears, but moving into what Abraham saw, we realize he was merely in the presence of three men.^[2] It’s expected that three men walking in the day’s heat would catch anyone’s eye in those conditions. It’s dangerous. But Abraham doesn’t fear for their well-being; he bows down and says, “My Lord.”

He’s not shocked by the imprudence of foreigners but sees something else. It would appear he realizes that the heavenly sphere has just melded into the earthly one. As the chapter unfolds, his conversation with the Lord weaves in and out of the dialogue. Dallas Willard brings out the same idea: “The Old Testament experience of God is one of the direct presence of God’s person, knowledge and power to those who trust and serve him. Nothing — no human being or institution, no time, no space, no spiritual being, no event — stands between God and those that trust him.”^[3]

Even in everyday events, Abraham experienced a taste of eternity. He understood he wasn’t just helping a few guys walking in the sun. In the same way, I think about those moments when talking with someone I just met, when the conversation suddenly becomes eternally significant. It’s a moment shared with the Lord when I’ve felt His close presence.

How does this work itself out in our daily lives?

There was only one John to write Revelation and only one Abraham, too. I believe it’s possible to cultivate a sense of the closeness of eternity in our lives, and it comes from a passage I was given to meditate on for the monthly CGN prayer meeting with Pastor Wayne Taylor—John 15:7-8. These two verses are taken from the beautiful passage of our daily and constant demeure in Him, the True Vine. The promise is remarkable. “If you abide in me and my words abide in you, ask whatever you wish and it will be done for you. My Father is glorified in this, that you bear much fruit and become my disciples.”

The key is abiding in Him and, practically, letting his words have such a place that they take up residence, remodel our lives, and sign the property deed. It’s a way of living in that open door to eternity. Better yet, it’s the Kingdom taking its place among us.

Yet some things can abide in us to the detriment of our fellowship with God. I’m thinking about what can reside in our hearts more than the words of Jesus and even eclipse our sense of eternity in the present. One typical example in my life is my to-do list and worries. I’m goal-oriented and can become overly focused when concentrating on an objective. Then I think of the words of Jesus and how they bring the beauty of eternity back in. “Seek ye first the kingdom of God” in Matthew 6:33.

Another example? Simple frustration and anger can cloud my judgment, if not add negative judgment to an already sensitive situation. The Lord’s words bring me back as He told us to pray, “Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors” (Matthew 6:12). One last instance? Ambition. How easy it is to let pride and ambition take me out of the heavenly perspective and right into the area of this world. And yet Jesus said, “What does it serve a man to gain the world and to lose his soul?” (Mark 8:36).

Allowing the Lord’s words to bear fruit in our hearts is much better. It’s giving place to eternity in our lives that allows dialogue with our souls. The power of this type of prayer and meditation is truly transformative. If I forgive others and ask for the Spirit’s help, I seek to be a peacemaker. If I make my goal to care for my soul and help others to gain the riches of God, I know I’ll experience more of the infusion of the eternal into everyday existence.

The Father is glorified in this type of disciple, as Jesus said, because it displays the life of our Lord through the simplicity of prayer and living. Better yet, it’s living eternity in the present physical world. In that way, I believe eternity is closer than we might think.

Footnotes

^[1] N.T. Wright, Revelation for Everyone (Louisville: Presbyterian Publishing Corporation, 2011), Kindle Edition, 3.
^[2] There’s a lot to be said about these men. It’s interesting that Augustine entertained the idea that this is a possible example of the Trinity because the text flows from the Lord appearing into the physical presence of the three men.
Augustine of Hippo, On the Trinity: Book 2, Chapter 11 (Boston: Wyatt North Publishing, 2014), 35.
^[3] Dallas Willard, The Divine Conspiracy: Rediscovering Our Hidden Life in God (New York: Harper Collins Publishers, 1998), 78.